love hurts, whether it's right or wrong.

Don't always try to understand, don't always try to explain.

.....

When I started writing this blog a few days ago, I had just spent 6 hours on a bus in Jamaica. Bob Marley played through the speakers the entire way there, and entire way home. I heard the song 'Don't worry, Be Happy' 28 times. I counted. Either Bob Marley doesn't have a lot of songs to choose from, or Mr. Marley himself was staring down at me from the clouds giving me some friendly advice.

I've made some mistakes in my life. If I said that I hadn't, I feel like a big, blinking, cartoon like light would pop up above my head that said 'LIAR'.

I've taken my frustration out on people who haven't deserved it. I've littered. I've burnt every possible type of food in the toaster, stove, and microwave. I've run over a handicap parking sign - Oops. I've given advice that I haven't taken myself. I've forgot to take chances. I've made someone cry. I've given up on people. I've given up on myself. I've hated someone I didn't even know. I've taken someone for granted. I've stolen pens from hotels, restaurants, and stores after using them. Purely by accident though - I promise. I've said I'd call and forgot. I've gotten mad at someone for doing the same to me.

We've all made mistakes in our lives, but I think the biggest mistake that I've made, and keep making, is holding on to someone who doesn't want to be held on to.

I'm good at letting people go.

Insert cartoon 'LIAR' light above my head here.

I'm not. At all. Once I've let my giant, double concrete wall down and let you see a glimpse of who I really am, I will have a hard time letting you go. I don't do that with many people. It takes a long, long time, and it's really hard for me to do. But, every once in a while, someone comes along that I knock the wall down for because I know that if I don't, then I risk losing them, and I feel like they're too important to take that sort of chance on. People who don't always know the right things to say when I'm sad, but try anyways. People that I know will blow dry and comb my hair when I'm too exhausted or hungover. People who don't give up even when things are shitty, because it's worth it to try and fix. People who are worth letting see who I really am.

I think my best friend Jen said it best when she said there's 'Internet Devan', and then there's "Real Devan'.

Most people won't ever see anything more then Internet Devan. I feel like she's my alter ego, with amour and super powers that have the ability to block any sort of emotion that could possibly hurt her. She's strong, confident, and nothing phases her. She hangs out at fancy parties, with fancy people, wearing fancy dresses, drinking fancy little drinks out of fancy little martini glasses. She travels. She models. She hangs out with celebrities. And backstage at concerts. She has her life allllll figured out, and people are jealous, because she has the world in the palm of her hand, to do whatever she wants with it.

Real Devan? She's not really a fan of internet Devan. She feels like they're far too different to ever really be friends. Real Devan doesn't have the proper armour to shield herself from getting hurt by people. She's a homebody. Her favourite place is her bed. Preferably with someone laying next to her, but currently an oversized stuffed animal sleeps on the pillow next to her. She only wears makeup once or twice a week. You probably wouldn't recognize her without it. She thinks she's prettier without makeup on, though. She drives the same car that she got when she was 17. She named it. She won't tell you what she named it because it's embarrassing. She spends a lot of the day driving and singing, badly, with the wrong lyrics, to songs most people have never heard of. She quotes songs that pull at her heartstrings. She spends her free time daydreaming about what she'd like her life to be, blogging, and listening to those songs she so poorly sang while - on repeat. She drinks tea. Peppermint, uncaffienated tea to be exact - every day, and every night. She's wishes she was good at something - baking, humming on tune, playing the guitar - anything. She lives to travel. The only time she feels like she's doing the right thing is when she's standing, or sitting in front of a camera or interviewing someone. She knows that she most likely will never get to do the one thing she loves as a full time career - she hasn't given up - but she's really close. She used to wish on stars, with hopes that it would be enough to make something come true. She doesn't have a close group of friends. She's envious of people that do. She doesn't get invited to fancy parties, because people get the two Devan's confused, and always assume she already has plans - she's most likely sitting at home, wishing someone would text her. She models because it's the one time that she gets to be someone else for a couple hours and clear her mind. She's 5'1. She realizes there's no hope of her being a runway model, and she's totally okay with that. She's usually lonely, but she covers it well. She tries to smile when she's sad, because she'd rather help other people then burden people with her problems. She knows there's got to be more to life then this, she's just waiting for her time to figure it all out. She wishes more people would take the time to actually get to know this side of her.

I've learnt a lot this year. More then I bargained for, and more then I expected, and more then I wanted to. I'll chalk it all up to an experience that will make me a better person in the long run, or some bullshit like that. One thing I did learn, is that sometimes people who care about you still make mistakes, and that mistakes don't always define a person. And sometimes they do. Its up to you to figure that one out, though.

Yes, I've made some mistakes, but I'm learning along the way. I think. I hope I am. I'd like to believe that I'm a good person, and that I try really hard to make the people that are in my life happy, and feel loved - and that's all I need in return.

And for anyone who's ever assumed, judged, or hated me without actually taking the time to know the real me?

Fuck you.

I made a list of New Years Resolutions this year.

Here goes nothing, 2012.

1.) Take chances, even if it means putting your heart on the line and getting hurt.

2.) Daydream less, do more.

3.) Say yes, more then no.

4.) Let go.

5.) See the world.

6.) Don't mix the past with the present and the future.

7.) Knock things off my bucket list.

8.) Take my own advice, follow my instincts.

9.) Love more. Worry less. Don't over analyze. Give up when you're supposed to. Try harder when you're supposed to. Spend time with the people who give a shit.

10.) Re read this list anytime I'm feeling sad, and instead be thankful, and know that I can make the changes that will make me happy.

xoxo, dev

I'll never ask for anyone, but you.

"Just because she smiles, doesn't mean she's happy. She smiles because she's hopeful, she has faith & she's strong."

Whenever I start to write a blog, I always have a clear idea of what I want to blog about. This is the first time I'm attempting to.. well, just write, about whatever's going on in my pretty little pint sized head. I'll warn you in advance, there's a lot, and I'll apologize in advance if it's messier and more jumbled then normal. Sometimes you need to let your head get a little jumbled and messy to realize that you have some sorting out to do.

To find ourselves, we must first lose ourslves.

I'm in love with so many places in the word. There's cities, and countries, but I always feel a bigger connection with things like small diners, and tea shops and certain rooms in the homes of people I love. I'm in love with the the feeling of comfort. I'm positive it's one of the top feelings out there, as it takes a lot to make a person feel it. There's one room that I miss terribly. It has dim lighting, and red walls, and there's Christmas lights hanging over the bathroom, which I may never of understood, yet always enjoyed. It's cluttered, yet spacious, and there's every color of plaid shirt thrown across the floor. The air is always cold, borderline freezing, but under the covers I always felt warm, and safe. I spent a lot of time there. Comfort.

How to Be Alone,

Remember that at any given moment,

There are a thousand things

You can love

Dorthy said it best of all though, out of all the places in the world, there's no place like home. I'm curled up in my bedroom right now. As curled up as is possible that is, to still be typing on my laptop. My entire room is lit by candles. None of them compliment each others smell, yet it somehow works. There's vanilla, and gingerbread, and mulberry. Mulberry confuses me, because it smells like a flower, yet sounds like it should be a fruit. I like it, whatever it is.

I miss my apartment in Chicago. When the leaves start to fall out here, and the weather starts to feel chilly and windy and you can smell that summer won't be back for another 9 months, I miss Chicago. I always had a candle lit in my apartment. It smelled like cupcakes, and when it'd be down to the last bit of the wick, I'd take a bus all the way downtown to get another of the exact same candle. It never crossed my mind to pick up two at the same time, so that I wouldn't have to take that long, dreaded ride downtown, but now that I think about it, I never actually dreaded that ride, and I think that I sort of looked forward to it. The top of the candle was covered with sprinkles that would burn away like the rest of the candle once you lit it. My roommate tried eating some of the sprinkles once. They were made out of wax. I feel like this was one of those 'if it seems too good to be true, it most likely is' situations.

I used to hate candles. People that didn't know me well would always buy me candles for my birthday and Christmas and random holidays. I'd either throw them out, or re-gift them to someone who could appreciate them. It wasn't that I didn't want to like them, but I'm terrified of fire, and the thought of having to be within a few inches of a tiny flame was more then my anxious little heart could handle. I still panic for a second when I flick the switch on the lighter these days - but I do it anyways. I have a feeling that that's some sort of strange metaphor for my life, right there.

Life. At any given moment, it feels like my own life and everyone around me's life is being thrown around, upside down, tied in a knot and then scattered on the ground. I realize I just rhymed right here. That was bad. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. This blog is really just going to be filled with apologizes for my gibberish.

Looking at my own life, and the people around me, I debate if we ever really figure it out. If life ever gets normal, simple, and people are every genuinely happy for longer then a moment. Maybe we just let things upset us too easily, and people disappoint us too quickly. What I have learnt, is that we need to make ourselves happy, before we let someone else make us happy. You can't solely rely on another person to make you happy, because if for some reason they walk away.. you're.. for lack of better words, fucked.

We let other people affect us too much. Sometime's you need to let go, and sometime's it's hard.

Move along.

Move along, move along, move along. Isn't that an All American Rejects song? We hold on to the past so often that we miss out on everything good that's right in front of us, and forget to live in the present and move towards the future.

We all know this,

yet we do it anyways.

Don't let being damaged be the reason that you miss out on being happy.

Smile. Smile even when you feel sad. Laugh. Over little things. Giggle, chuckle, smirk, and laugh. Cry. Happy Tears. Sad ones. More happy ones then sad ones, though. Tell people what they mean to you. Give someone a chance. Make someone else smile. Make today the day that you do all the things that you planned to put off until tomorrow. Have faith. Have trust. Get hurt. Move on. Learn. Love again. Let go. Give up. Cross something off your bucket list. Cross everything off your bucket list. Pick up your phone and make a call. Make a new bucket list. Jump into something headfirst. Not literally. Forgive. Forget. Regret. Live with it. Move on. Remind someone you care. Let go if you don't. Stay in bed all day. Stay up all night. Watch the sun rise. Watch it set. Start over. Give someone a chance. Turn a bad day into a good one. Love.

Live. Live. Live,

Start now.

this house screams of memories and half-written songs, with the chance of completion depending on love.

She never gives out, and she never gives in, she just changes her mind.

I'm flying to LA., and all that keeps playing in my mind is that annoying, yet awesome, 'Drinking in LA' song by Bran Van 3000. If you don't know what song I'm talking about, I've been so kind as to post the link to it so that you can listen to it, and feel like you're here next to me! Only you're not.

http://youtu.be/pZ9KfKx8PmM

You may not be sitting next to me, however, an older man who has been snoring for the past 2 hours, is. He's also taking up the entire arm rest. I'm all about sharing, but really, the WHOLE arm rest? Is this necessary? You're asleep dude, probably dreaming about rainbows and gumdrops, and I'm uncomfortably curled up into a ball, trying to pretend that your snoring is a part of a poorly rehearsed orchestra performance. It's safe to say that due to my lack of arm rest space, that I am now losing my mind.

I do feel like I have more of my mind left then the guy sitting across the isle from me though, who's been laughing to himself the entire flight.

At first I was thinking, hmm, maybe he has a split personalty - Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde style. Or maybe he's escaped from the loony bin and someone is going to stroll down the isle at any moment to put him back in his white straight jacket.. but eventually, I noticed he had a book in his hand that he appeared to be reading and laughing at.

I keep glancing over at at him and trying to read the book title, because judging by the way his whole body shakes as he reads it, it must be a really really good book. You have to be careful when glancing, creeping, people watching, whatever you want to call it, though - too long of staring and accidental eye contact often leads to unwanted small talk and exchanging Facebook names. Not long enough staring means you need to keep glancing over in attempts to see whatever you're trying to look at. You know that feeling when you know someone's watching you? Well, it's not just you that feels that. They feel you staring, and just before you can look away.. BAM, eye contact, small talk, exchange facebook names. I'm not really in the mood to chat, so I guess the hilarious book will always remain a mystery to both you and I. Sorry guys.

I travel a lot.

People always ask me 'Why'… 'How'? Well, I'll tell you how. Find place I want to go. Look up flights. Book flight. Go.

Okay, I know that's not exactly what people mean when they ask.

I try and manage my money wisely, or at least the best I can. Which means there's not really any room for hookers and blow, but that's alright... I guess.

I don't spend my money on jeans that cost half as much as a flight to somewhere warm, and I still have the same car that I've had since I was 17. I don't buy expensive jewellery and shoes, I don't go to bars and spend $10 on a martini, and I don't have an apartment with a beautiful view of the city. I try and work extra shifts on the side as often as I can, which means missing out on birthdays and special events sometimes, and missing spending time with my friends, which yes sucks, and yes, sometimes has to happen. I guess it's a matter of a person's priorities - yes, I LOVE going and getting my nails done and shopping, but I know that I need to do those things in moderation so that I have money to do the thing that makes me happiest - travelling.

Unfortunately for me, although a lot of people talk about wanting to travel places, but it's not a high priority in their lives, which is totally fine, there's so much people have to spend their money on.. rent.. bills.. insurance, definitely understandable, sometimes I just get bummed about going places alone because it's always more special when you get to share the experience with someone else. I mean, I always have friends in the destination I'm going to, but sometimes it's nice to sit beside someone on the plane who you know their last name and birthday, instead of a stranger who snores.. and drools. Oh right, forgot to mention, he was drooling. He woke up while I was writing that and I feel bad that he may of done the creep stare and glanced at my notebook that I'm writing in right now and saw that. Snoring, people can forgive themselves over. Drooling.. not so much.

Anyways, back to what I was saying about travelling alone. A really good friend of mine was actually supposed to come on this trip with me - in fact, it was her idea that we go. She bailed a couple weeks before we were supposed to go. She gave me some poor excuse as to why she couldn't go, an excuse that I no longer believe is true. I think that was the worst part - that she couldn't even tell me why she actually wasn't coming anymore. People are so much more forgivable when they're truthful. Anyways, that's all I'm going to say about that matter. I could talk about how hurt and disappointed I was about it, and how she's a bad friend, but sometimes in life, it just is what it is, and it this case, that's exactly what it is.

On that note, if you're someone who's reliable, fun, follows through with what you say you want to do, and you've caught the travel bug like myself, hit me up! I'm always looking for travel buddies :)

Day 2.

Well, friends, I'm in LA now. It's different though this time. It looks the same, and it smells the same.. but something's missing. It's bitter sweet being back here - I truly love this city, but this city also holds irreplaceable memories that I shared with someone who made me feel like the most important and beautiful girl in the world, a feeling that I, and most people long for. On the flip side, this is the same boy who told people that I got mauled by a tiger when people would ask why we broke up. #idiot #douchebag #Couldn'tYouThinkOfABetterStory

Eh, you win some, you lose some, right?

My hotel's perfect. It's small and cozy. It has floor to ceiling windows that lead onto a balcony. I often daydream about someday moving into an apartment that looks similar to this. And someday, I will. I want to say that this trip has restored my love for this city, but I never lie, so I don't want to say it has. Then again, it's only been two days. Tomorrow's another day.

Day 3.

Laying by the pool. I wish my tan always looked this good. I've walked so much today that I could eat two entire jars of Nutella and not even begin to feel guilty about it. There's an older man, who's with what I'm assuming is his granddaughter. He's walking around the pool, picking out any leaves that he sees floating around in it. There's like, 7 tiny leaves, but he doesn't seem to be going anywhere until he's picked every last one of them out. His grandaughter keep's saying 'I have to pee, I have to pee!' as she floats around the water.

His grandaughter is now silent, and is just swimming around the pool. Ew. At moments like this, I'm glad I can't swim and avoid pools.

Day 9.

My love for LA has been completely and utterly restored. It was a shaky start, but by about Day 3, I rememebered why I was so in love with this city to begin with. The sun. It's hot, but not unbearable. The wind. It's soft, and soothing and it makes the nights perfect. The beaches. They're filled with locals and tourists alike, smiling and laughing and soaking in the sun. The sand. I could spend the entire day with my toes in the sand, burrying and unburrying my legs, rubbing the sand onto my arms, and pretending it's a luxuroious spa exfoliation. The best thing about LA is the air. There's something about LA air. I have a lot of troubles breathing on a daily basis due to allergies, asthma, and an undiagnosed breathing problem that specialists can't seem to decide on if it's due to heart or lung problems and sneaks up on me at inconvient times.

I can breathe in LA. Perfectly. For such a supposedly smoggy city, the air feels fresh, and clean. After playing with my feet in the sand all day, I could happily spend the next day outside, simply smelling the air.

Probably one of the coolest things I saw while in LA was a Flash Mob. Some of you have probably seen this tv show before, hosted by Howie Mandel. This guy wanted to propose to his girlfriend, so he contacted the show. What they do, is train hundreds of dancers over a period of a week I believe it is. Then they took the unsuspecting girlfriend all throughout West Hollywood and normal looking peeople (who are the trained dancers) out of no where, start jumping off railings and running out of stores to do a choregraphed routine (usually hundreds of them). This happens everywhere she goes, until she ends up at her final destination, where he proposed. It's really hard to explain how intense, and overwhleming, and amazing a Flash Mob is - so if you haven't seen one before, check out this video below so you have an idea - it's worth it.

(at the begining, the guy wanted to throw her off so there's so extra stuff, go to about 2 mins in if you want to skip it)

http://youtu.be/eJWlavnM6b0

As I experienced this and watched this happen, I literally sat there bawling my eyes out. I watched the dancers, and the girlfriend, and the guy trembling as he sang to her, and confessed how much he loved her - amd all I could think of is, what does a person do to make someone want to do all this for somebody? How amazing of a person must she be, to have someone who loves her so much that he wants to put in so much effort to prove that to her? It's so mind boggling to me - and maybe this is because I've actually never been in a relationship where someone's told me they love me. Is that.. weird? I think that I'm love worthy.. but then again, I thought soy milk came from an animal, so maybe I'm also wrong about this one.

I want to end this blog by saying thank you to some few important people in my life, just in case they don't know how much they're appreciated and loved. No need to list names - you know who you are, and thank you. Thank you to the ones who have been around for years, thank you to you few that I've just become close with these past couple of the months. Thank you for making me smile, and believing in me at the times when I forget to. Thank you to the people who I haven't even had the chance to close to for being so supportive and believing in me as well. I can't say enough how much that means. Thank you for letting me be myself, and laughing at my dumb jokes, comments, and questions. Thank you for not judging when my hairs not styled, my makeups not done.. and I look borderline homeless. Thank you to my boyfriend, who can drive me insane, and then back to sanity in a matter of seconds. Who's stuck by my side, when I'm not sure even I would of. Who puts a perma grin on my face as soon as he holds my hand. Who's never ignored a moment when I need him. Who's become so much more then just my boyfriend, but my best friend as well.

Thank you.

#Life #Los Angeles #LA #Love #Manchester orchestra #Travel #Dr. Jekylll and Mr.Hyde #Flying #Billy joel #LAX #Canada #Houseboating #Friendship #Friends #Memories #Facebook

and while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me, "The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return"

...

One step forward, and two steps back.

...

I've always wondered why popcorn bags have specific instructions on which side needs to be facing 'up' when you put it in the microwave. "THIS SIDE UP" it says, in big, bold, angry looking letters. What happens if you put the other side up instead? Will it burn? Not pop? Blow up? I'll get back to you on this one.

I don't have the best luck with microwaves for some reason. My parents have put our butter in the fridge for as long as I can remember.. and for as long as I can remember, every time I pull out the rock hard butter from our fridge and it tears my toast apart, I think, why can't we just leave it on the counter at room temperature like normal people do. On one particularly frustrating day I decided I should just put it in the microwave for a few seconds to soften it up so I could enjoy my toast, and that's just what I did. I also left the tin foil wrapping on it. It started sparking.. and then set on fire.

Here's to hoping I have better luck with popcorn.

So, I've got a question for you guys.

What do you say when people ask you 'where do you want to be 5 years from now'?

When people asked me this when I was 16 I could answer descriptively, thoroughly and without a second thought. This is because I had my life planned out for the next 5 years. I was going to finish high school with honours, I was going to go to college, I was going to do something memorable and life changing after college and people were going to know who I was. I've always been good at planning and organizing things to my liking - although people who have seen my bedroom and car may disagree about the organization thing.

Just as planned, all of the things I had set for myself happened. I graduated high school with scholarships. I instantly enrolled myself into college to take a course that would hopefully get me my dream job of being an entertainment host. I embarked on a life changing journey after college that I will be able to tell stories from for the rest of my life. I made a name for myself, and people know who I am.

There's never been a doubt in my mind what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to work in the entertainment industry. At the end of college, my teachers advised me and my classmates to start working in a small town and at a small company - they told us this way we could pay our dues and make our mistakes there and learn from them. I remember standing in the hallway of my school and being disgusted at the idea of having to move to another small town - something I'm far too familiar with and have had to do all my life. I remember looking at my teacher who told us this and saying "maybe some people will do that, but I plan on making my mistakes in front of the world". That was a pretty big statement coming from me of all people. I was this tiny, quiet girl who hardly spoke unless asked a question - the youngest of my class and fresh out of high school when I started the course. I didn't even know if I was allowed to say that, but I did anyways. He wished me luck with a smirk on his face, as though he expected to see me working behind the scenes of some unknown production company for the next 10 years of my life. It's funny how one look and a cocky smile from someone can be all the motivation you need to get something done.

Fast forward my life a few months.

I knew I wanted to work at a big company and I knew I wanted to work outside of Canada, so the search began. I looked into a few potential places, but when I came across 'The Jerry Springer Show' website I knew that was exactly where I wanted to work. To this day, I don't know why I chose Springer, or why they chose me. We did a couple phone interviews since I wasn't able to just fly out there for an interview. I remember the girl who interviewed me saying 'You sound really sweet.. do you think you're going to be able to handle this job?' I told her I could handle anything.. and the job was mine. If I had any idea what my job would consist of, maybe I would of chosen my words differently. Or maybe I wouldn't of.

About 6 weeks later I was packing up my life to move to Chicago. I wasn't scared or worried about anything - I've never had a problem meeting new people or adapting to my surroundings - that changed as soon as I moved into my apartment. My apartment was in a predominantly black neighborhood. By this I mean, I was the only white girl in my entire neighborhood. Nobody would talk to me, smile back when I smiled at them, and when I'd go to the grocery store, nobody would even make eye contact with me. To the right of my apartment was the ghetto. I don't think you went there unless you actually had a death wish and wanted to die. Or unless you wanted to film the sequel to 8 Mile. And then die. My dad thought it'd be funny for us to drive down there one day when he came to visit. I'm going to assume he thought it was less funny once we actually got there, seeing as he didn't even stop at red lights until we got out of the area. To the left of my place were beautiful, historical mansions like I've never seen before - Mohammed Ali owned one of them. I had a couple weeks before I started work, so I did tons of sight seeing, maxed out my credit card within the first week, and started to believe that maybe love at first sight did exist - I was SO in love with this city.

(picture i took while I was at the aquarium one night)

I felt a tiny bit intimidated walking into the NBC Universal building downtown Chicago for my first day of work. The building felt very sterile and empty as I walked in, however once I got to the Springer offices there were people running around and yelling into cellphones and it felt very warm and bright. I was wearing cute high heels and shorts and had spent an hour on my hair because I wanted to make a good first impression. I met my boss. She seemed super sweet and smiley. She explained that each week I'd be working on a team. There'd be the producer, an assistant producer, and a production assistant. Every week would have a travel day. On travel days we'd go to the airport and pick up the guests. A lot of the guests were flown in from Michigen, Texas, and Alabama. The number one thing was to keep the guest happy. Each show cost them about $50,000 to put on, so if the guests were unhappy and wanted to go home we were screwed. Every travel day we'd get a credit card. We'd take the guests out to do whatever the wanted to do. Literally anything they wanted, they got. We'd go shopping, out to eat, and sight seeing. Kirsten told me to just treat them like you would any normal person, and to be honest, a lot of the guests were pretty fun and somewhat normal. She told me not to ask them why they were going on the show during our time together, and if they asked me any questions about why they were on the show (some of them would be told lies to get them to come on the show) to say I didn't know - which was true. They kept us in the dark about everything until show day.

My first day was a 16 hour day. My feet were actually covered in blood from my high heels, and that was the first and last time I ever bothered doing my hair for work. They didn't waste any time before they threw me into chaos. They made me run around the city looking for clothes for the show that day. It was absolute madness. I never realized that finding a 4XL tank top and cardigan would be so damn hard. I also didn't realize that when I walked into the green room to drop off the clothing I was going to see a very.. very large women being spray painted blue as she stood beside a blow up pool.. filled with creamed corn. She was on the show to confess her undying love for her uncle, Billy Bob. She said she loved him so much that she was willing to paint herself blue and swim in corn - and so she did. At the end of the day I had taken 27 cabs and had 33 calls on my phone from my producer, in which he screamed at me over everything from getting him the wrong coffee, to getting the wrong color of blue jeans. I went home that night and fell asleep wondering how I was going to make it through my next day.

Things never got easier or more 'normal'.. but eventually nothing shocked me anymore and I started to look forward to seeing what each ridiculous day would hold. I hung out with midgets, strippers, tranny's and pornstars on a daily basis. I took limo's with child molesters for them to get lie detector tests to be revealed on the Steve Wilko's show. (I worked on his show half the week as well.) I bought myself Starbucks at least three times a day with the company credit card. I took people with animal costume festish's out for dinner, and took troubled teens out shopping and to wander around the city, trying to impact them as much as I could in a few hours I spent with them. I bonded with hicks from the sticks, pro wrestlers, and Kenny, a regular on the show, who had no legs and scooted around on his skateboard by using his hands. I rode the elevator with Jerry Springer himself on a daily basis. I hung out with the guests after the show, always proud of them for the strangest things - whether it was because they agreed to go to rehab for their drug addictions on the Steve show, because the dead beat dad finally decided to step up to the plate, or because they jumped into their animal suits and confessed their very strange feelings for their aunts and uncles. Only in the Springer world are you rewarded for being weirder then the person next to you.

I wish I could write about everything I experienced in the time that I was there. I grew. Unfourtunately not in height, but I became independent, confident and mature.

One night in the windy city, I got frustrated over being the only one of my friends that wasn't 21 and having to stay in every weekend alone. I went to the craft store, bought $30 worth of paint, pens, and laminating paper, and spent 7 hours on a Friday night making myself a fake ID. That ID got me into every bar in that city, and I never got questioned once. My gf Nikki came to visit and I made her one as well. We went out, she drank too many margerta's at a skechy little Mexican resturant, puked behind a cupcake shop, and then we decided we were going to walk 36 blocks to a tattoo parlour so she could get a tattoo - and she did. One night I got stuck in the worst snowstorm that Chicago had seen in years. The buses had stopped running and EVERY single cab had someone in it. I walked for about an hour, soaking wet, crying and stranded downtown Chicago. Th nearest place that'd be open on Midnight on a week day was about 60 blocks away. FInally one of my girlfriends managed to catch an empty cab and come and get me and save me from possibly catching hypothermia. I met people that contributed to memories that I'll cherish for the rest of my life.

My work visa ran out, and since I'm Canadian, that meant my time in Chicago had run out as well. And that was that. I accomplished the last thing that was on my list of goals for myself.

I think this is when I got stuck, and have been since I stepped off that plane back home. They say you leave a little piece of yourself everywhere you go, but when I look back at pictures, I realize I left a little too much of me in Chicago. I left behind smiles, and laughter, and inside jokes, newfound and lifetime friends, and my newfound self. When I came home, I forgot to make a new set of goals for myself, and since then I think I've just been drifting, hoping one day I'd get to go back to the city that made me so happy. I think it's safe to say that I'm pretty miserable and uncontent with every aspect of my life, the last couple of months expecially, so it's time to start focusing on what's going to make me happy in the longrun, instead of focusing on trying to make sure everyone else in my life is - I don't see them doing the same for me.

So here it is. It's pretty simple. It's pretty general. And for the first time in my goal making list history, it's pretty realistic.

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1.) Enroll back into college.

2.) Find a job and career that I love more then I hate.

3.) Have someone in my life that cares about me as much as I care about them.

4.) Live in LA.

5.) Have the satisfaction of knowing my ex is as miserable as he left me. Preferably in the way of weight gain, balding, and four children from different girls.

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6.) Be famous. Marry rockstar. Have puppies.

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Hey, I said pretty realistic, not entirely.

Until next time,

xoxo,

Devan.

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