A Decade of Changing Lives

As I've stated many times before, I've lived about 12 lifetimes in this short 30 years I've been on this Earth. Because I've lived so many lifetimes, it's sometimes hard for me to see the way some things just "ARE" if you know what I mean.

Like the way I affect people.

Apparently I've changed lives (sometimes for the better) on many occasions I've not been aware of. I mean, its always interesting to find out that someone you knew in school had a crush on you back then, but that's not what I'm really talking about here. A friend of mine Ive not seen in about a year now was one of those people. He admitted to me that he had a 'thing' for me back when we worked together.

No, I'm talking about something deeper; something more profound.

I once was the manager of a restaurant in Arkansas. One of my waitresses didn't have any confidence in herself. Heather admitted to me a while back that the reason shes now successful and actually went to college was because of me. She desperately needed someone to believe in her, and that's when she met me. At first we butted heads, but eventually we grew fond of one another and even grew to love one another like family. She also admitted that had it not been for me telling her about my own mistakes, she would have dropped out of High School in her senior year.

In May of 2006 I got a telephone call from a dear old friend of mine whom I once worked for. Ive not worked for Vic in several years now, and yet he remembered me the second he was in a pinch. He knew that he had a friend in me; someone who would bail him out and do about anything for him if he needed it done.

Vic is the owner/manager of Colombos Restaurant in Eagle Rock CA. Hes a wonderful guy and a great boss. I was amazed that I left that much of an impression on him that he would call ME as soon as he needed a hand! He assured me that he would make it up to me, but he has no idea what it meant to me just to have him ask me for a favor; to know that he trusted me to help him when he needed it. Hes already made it up to me without knowing it.

I've had others come to me over the years and tell me that they had made some drastic, life changing decisions because of me. Somehow I had inspired them to make a change they had been putting off, or they had opened their eyes to seeing things in a whole new light they never thought was possible before meeting me or reading some of my blogs throughout the years (for those who don't know, I used to blog often on Myspace).

A friend I've known MANY years on another social networking site has been miserable in their marriage for over 13 years. After talking with me, getting to read some of my blogs and realizing through my writing that life was indeed too short to waste it being miserable, they decided to get a divorce. Though it's still a struggle to pay the bills, my friend is now much happier in their life and I couldn't be happier for them.

I wouldn't ever tell someone to go get a divorce, but perhaps my blogs are like reading a "self improvement" book or listening to the audio tapes on the drive to work in the mornings. Somehow I inspired this friend to do something to better their own life. If that happened to be a divorce, then at least they're better off.

There's one time in particular that stands out in my mind though... I hadn't been on Myspace for very long, so it had to be in 2003 that this instance happened. Someone wrote to me, telling me that they had stumbled across my page by accident. They saw a quote I had listed on my page that they identified with. After many weeks of thinking about it, they wrote that quote down on a sticky note and stuck it to their fridge. Then they did another the following week and stuck it to their rear view mirror. Before long, he had them posted at work, on the bathroom mirror and on the microwave. He then told me the story of what had happened and why he posted those notes everywhere.

When his wife told him she wanted a divorce, it was the most devistating day of his life to date. He had just recently lost both of his parents in a car accident and she had been there for him the whole time. He knew as he sat at the funeral that even though he had no family left (no Aunt, Uncles, Cousins or Grandparents) his wife and two children would always be there for him. When she crushed that, depression took over and wiped denial clean out of the way. He moped around the house in his stained underwear, not caring about anything or anyone when she left him. She took the kids and disappeared. He went to court to fight for custody, but her family had a lot of money where as his did not. She had a college education, he didn't. Her family were all still living, where he was all alone in the world. Needless to say, she got custody of the children in the end and moved out of the state.

Depression got worse for him. One night as he sat checking his emails, he decided to write a suicide note on his computer and leave it for his ex-wife to find when his body was discovered. He had nobody else left in the world and hadn't seen his kids in months. He had just lost his job. What else in the world was there to live for? He had lost everything precious to him in a matter of two months.

To my Wife -

I've loved you since the moment I saw you. I needed you and you were there for me. I've never wanted anything more in my life than to make you and the children happy. Now that I've failed at that, I feel there's nothing more for me in this world.

I leave you everything I've ever owned, if you want it. Our wedding video is still in the VHS case - I lied to you. I didn't want you to take it because I wanted to see you when you still loved me. I watch it almost every night before I go to sleep. Our wedding photo album is under my pillow. My favorite picture of you is taped to the dash of my truck.

What I'd give to hold you in my arms just once more. Perhaps I didn't tell you enough, but I loved you my whole life. I love you still. Coming home to you was a pleasure and I looked forward to it each day.

If any part of you still loves me, do not cry for me. I'm free from the pain and
I'm with my family now.

I'll always love you,

Gary.

He decided to see if his wife had a Myspace account so he could send her the note he had typed up rather than having her perhaps never see his words of love to her in his final hour. Her name was a common one, and happened to be EXACTLY my legal first and last name. She looked a little like me and he clicked on the picture, thinking the thumbnail was of his wife.

"I'm a fighter. I grow kinder for those who love me. I grow
stronger for those who don't. And I grow wiser as I learn the
difference."

As simple as those words were, those were the words that saved Gary's life. Those were the words that formed the quote on my Myspace page. Gary leaned forward in his recliner and read those words to himself again and again. Finally he read them aloud once.

With a couple of clicks, the suicide note disappeared and he went up to his bedroom. He pulled the photo album out from under his pillow and stuck it in a box. He tossed the wedding video in with it. Then he found the glasses he had saved from every Bubba Gump Shrimp Company they had visited together and tossed them in the box, no longer caring if they broke. He knew at that moment that he needed to grow stronger and wiser, because being kinder was only a slice of the pie.


From my words, he learned that he needed a balance of all things. He needed to be kind, strong and wise - that none was worth anything without the other.


Gary started the next day looking for a job. His new attitude and outlook helped him to land a savvy career in Radio, where he started on his first day with the first sticky note stuck to his microphone. The sticky notes catapulted. People at work asked him about the note, and suddenly Gary was becoming the inspirational speaker for his office. People went to HIM for advice, and he always kept a positive light and an uplifting spin on everything. Eventually he went back to school and got an MBA.

Gary's now remarried to a wonderful woman who loves him dearly. He makes plenty of money and gets to fly his kids out to see him quite often. Their mother still retains primary custody of them, but he went back to court and fought. He has summers and holidays. That works out quite nicely for Gary, now that he's got another little one on the way with Michelle.


Gary contributed all of the changes to me. He said that quote was just the floodgate, opening his eyes to whole new ideas and adventures waiting around every turn. If I could understand so much about life at such a young age and after having been through so many trials in my own life, the least he could do was give it one more honest shot.


So, congrats to Gary and Michelle. All the best to you, you certainly deserve it.

Ode to the Cinedome, Riverdale UT

When we first moved to Utah, I remember coming over the hill and hitting Riverdale road. Off to the right of the main road was a theater we instantly nicknamed the Dolly Parton theater. Cars were parked around its perimeter for a Sunday afternoon showing of Aladdin that November. Snow was visible on the mountains in the distance, and it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.


I was only 12 years old the first time I saw the Cinedome. I knew instantly that I would eventually see a movie there, and the following year Jurassic Park was released. We went as a family. It was the first time we had all seen a movie together in many years. I'll never forget seeing the teeth of T-Rex closing in around me on the curved screen. I jumped a little and grabbed my mothers arm as she sat next to me. I remember her smiling and almost chiding me a bit.


"Oh Honey, it's just a movie," she said. This came from the woman who knew Gremlins gave me nightmares for weeks when I was younger. I was tough for her though. I didn't let her know it scared me as much as it did. I tried to keep the incident with Frankenstein in mind whenever I was scared. I knew it was "just a movie" and kept my startled jumpiness to a minimum.


I always thought I would end up going to the Cinedome on a date, but sadly that never happened. My parents didn't like the idea of me dating really, and the only guy they ever approved of was 8 years older than me when I was 16 years old. To their credit, Eric had lied and told them he was only 5 years older than I was, the exact age difference between my Mom and Dad.

Eric wasn't much of a "going out" person. His idea of a good time was riding a bull named Yellow Dog and drinking Coors Light at home. Eric gave me my first full beer. It was horrible, but I drank it because I didn't want him to think I was just a little girl. I hated it.


There was a house over behind the Cinedome where a photographer lived. He used to do the portraits for all the High School seniors in the area. He had the most amazing lawn I think I had ever seen, but his view was of the back side of the Cinedome. I can't imagine he ever had any true love for the place.


Behind his house though was a hillside covered in lush trees that led down a sewage drain we all called "the creek" and straight to a park. I spent about 80% of my free time at the park, climbing the hill up behind the Cinedome and pretending to climb the bricks that jutted out from the joints of the building.


I remember once I had a couple of friends come over to 'hang out' with me, since we were getting to old to 'play' outside. I had been grounded for something; it seems like I rarely had any free time because I spent most of my time being grounded. Mom told them I couldn't come outside, but she said it was ok for me to tell them that myself. I went out and told them to meet me at the park, I would be there shortly.


"No," Trent said, "You'll get in trouble, won't you?"


"Who cares," was my response. "I'm always in trouble anyway. What does it matter anymore? I don't care. What else can they do to me at this point?"


"Are you sure," Doug asked.


"Yeah, I'm fine."


"Ok," they said in unison, sounding doubtful.


"See you later," I shouted loudly for my mother's benefit.


They headed straight for the park and I headed straight for the back door. They weren't 200 yards away when I caught up to them. We walked straight to the park.


We were sitting on a bench when I saw a familiar little blue Dodge car turn the corner. My mother had known instinctively where to look for me. I darted into the nearby woods and started to make my way up the creek. The boys were right behind me.


"Hey," my mother shouted. "Where's Manda?"


"I don't know," Trent said from the other side of the tree where I was hiding. "You said she couldn't come out."


"Don't you lie to me," she shouted back at him. He stood defiantly looking at her. I could feel the tension in the air. He knew we were in trouble. We had been found. Trent turned to look at Doug who stood a few feet away. Doug looked at Trent. Audible swallows of salivating mouths could be heard. They gulped in unison. Trent looked back at my mother. Finally, knowing she wasn't going to get anywhere with them, she pulled away and drove off around the corner.


The boys and I made a mad dash up the hill, running over the muddy bank as quickly as we could. We had planned on finding refuge inside the Cinedome. The boys both had money and were going to take me to a movie. I couldn't wait! We came over the top and burst through the foliage straight into my mothers waiting car. I knew I was in trouble.


I got into the passenger seat after facing her grinding teeth and icy glare. As we pulled away she let fly with one of her physical tantrums all over the top of my head. At one point she popped me in the nose and it began to spew blood profusely. She didn't even slow down. She just aimed at the top of my head and my stomach again. The boys, having seen this from the back view, called the cops as soon as they got home.


We got a visit from the cops that night. I had been grounded even more severely and was being forced to go to bed at 8:30 that night. I was dressed for bed and ready to hit the sack when the doorbell rang. My Dad answered the door and shouted down to me.

"Manda!" he called out. He sounded amused. "You have a visitor."

I walked the steps up to the front door, puzzled. Dad had NEVER let me have a visitor if I was in trouble before, and even if I wasn't in trouble I couldn't have visitors after dark - even at 16 years old. I peeked around the door and saw two uniformed Officers standing there.

"Young lady, are you ok?" One of them asked me. "You have a couple of concerned friends out there who were afraid you were in trouble."

"Tell them what you did," my Dad urged me.

"I snuck out of the house when I was grounded," I told them quietly.

"But you look ok."

"Yeah, I'm ok. But I'm even more grounded now."

"You'd be worse than that if you were my kid," he answered. My father gathered a deep-down belly laugh at that. They said good night and closed the door. Nothing more came of the incident.

I never did end up going to the Cinedome with Trent or Doug, or indeed anyone but my own family that one time to see Jurassic Park. I always wanted to have that chance, but collectively since I moved away at 18 years old, I've only been back for a total of 2.5 months in the past 13 years.

Now the curtain closes for the Cinedome for the last time. They plan to tear it down soon. I know that I don't have as many memories there as so many other people, but the fact that it was one of the few constants in my life durring my time in Utah has always stood out like a beacon, reminding me that some things are solid enough to stick around forever.

It's unfortunate that it won't be around forever though. Then again, nothing really is.

Cinedome, you will be missed.

Hair-Story

I often get questions about my hair these days.

People ask if I've ever had long hair, or if I have always had short hair and ever thought of growing it out. I often try to explain the lengths of my hair over the past decade, but at this point it's been short for over 6 years and I'm quite used to it. Don't get me wrong, I've often thought of growing it back out, but each time I try, it gets to my collar of my shirt and starts to bother me. I think if I could get it past that point, my hair would survive. But yes, I've had very long hair most of my life.

(See left and below).

I had short hair as a kid once... and was teased for it

mercilessly. I had gotten the idea after the movie "All Dog's Go To Heaven" came out after the character Ann Marie (see character on the right). My hair was long and constantly tangled. Mom and I decided it was time for a hair cut, so she put it all in a pony tail and braided it down. Then she put it in another ponytail at the bottom and chopped away. The braid was removed and put into a plastic bag for my father. He still has it somewhere.

Mom cut it off at such a crooked angle that we really didn't have many options. It was either the "Ann Marie" cut, or short like a boy's hair cut. I had gone through that in Kindergarten and earned the nickname George (I'll save that for another day). I really didn't want to go through that again, so Ann Marie it was.

Several years ago Dad retired from the military and got a job working on the base painting missile trucks. One of the guys that worked with him had a very long ponytail nearly the same color as my hair. He had the brilliant idea to take that ponytail with him to work one day. He then grabbed a pair of scissors, held the ponytail in one hand and the scissors in the other. Then he tugged on the guys ponytail, sliced a bit off of MY ponytail, and held my ponytail out for the guy to see it. He said the man's eyes got as big around as saucers and he started to scream. He reached back and discovered his own ponytail was still in tact. I'm sure he wanted to kill my father for that one.

When I was 17 my mother pulled me into the bathroom and dyed my hair blond. She told me that she had never really liked my hair color. It went to a bright carrot orange, so she dyed it blond again and it came out Strawberry blond.

That summer I got my first ever modeling job, working as a Runway Model at a "Back to School" fashion show on the military base. I was shy, but that job started to bring me out of my shell. Several years later when I moved to California, I found myself working with a photographer during my first photo shoot ever (see above). The photographer, Christopher, was rather inexperienced and this was the best picture we got from the shoot, but I've always loved this shot.

I've had several different colors used in my hair over the past few years. To the left is a photo of me right after the Extreme Makeover show cut several inches off of the bottom in 2004. They feathered it along the sides and gave me bangs after giving it a rich chocolate brown color. I didn't have the heart to tell them, but that was the exact same haircut I had in 1998, and I had cut it myself. Even the color matched the old photos of my hair from 6 years before. It just wasn't enough of a change for me.

In the mean time, I had gotten married. My new mother in law had once been a very talented hair dresser before a car accident messed up her back. She couldn't do it all day anymore, but a hair cut once in a while didn't hurt her. I asked her for a big change - and she obliged. We cut it off rather short, had it layered and feathered around my neck, and tried to color it back to red. It was so dark from the Extreme Makeover show that it really didn't take, but I was so in shock over the length of my hair that I wasn't focused on the dark color. It was an alien feeling, running my hands through it and finding my fingers slipping free just at the neck.

People seemed to think that the dark color suited me, so I stuck with it for a couple of months. I stuck with the length too, but having to put it up in little poofy pigtails I called Panda Ears in order to work food service was rather annoying. I decided once more that it was time for another change. I went back to Sue and asked her to cut it once more, this time to get rid of it all.

If I hadn't cut my hair the last time I never would have gotten any of the modeling jobs I ended up with. The short, red hair suited me, but was also edgy, pixie-ish and feminine with my facial features. Immediately I was picked up by several photographers for my unusual look. I was a rare thing - a girl with short hair, a girl with red hair, and a girl who didn't look Butch because of the length. Richie Bravo was the first photographer, and within days I was working with several others, including Jack Fleming Photography and D'Jef Photo Styles. Fleming has since made quite the name for himself.

I've played around with my hair a bit, trying to grow it out and then deciding to chop it all off again. I've had bangs, I've had

none. I've gone from brunette to blond and then back to red again. I've played around with my hair a lot, but pretty much consistently for the past 6 years it has retained this primary style and color, just with a few minor variations. I even tried the "Ann Marie" thing again once... and decided that it suited me even less in

adulthood than it did when I was a kid. It was a very short time

before I let that one grow out and got rid of the Duck Tail.

My hair has always been a way of expression for me. People tell me that I should grow it out, that I should cut it off, that I should do this or that or get a perm or get extensions or shave my head. Well, it's my hair and I do what I like with it. It's a part of me and I'm grateful that I even have hair. I'm glad I have a way to express myself and my own personal style without resorting to something like tattoos or piercings.

And now, I've done this style for long enough...

I think it's time for another change.