Pest Control

My eyes popped open like they were spring loaded. I laid there motionless.

*rustle rustle*

I sat straight up. Rocket launched my torso to meet a 90 degree angle with my legs.

*Rustle bang bang rustle*

I lurched forward on all fours. Quick. Stealthy. And perched at the end of my bed. Tilted my head in the direction of the noise. Body rigid. Breath stopped.

Silence...

Silence...

*BANG. Rustle. BANG. Rustle.*

What. The. Shit.

I looked to the corner of my room and saw the box from my new space heater shift slightly. Then again. First thought: Aliens. Second thought (more rational, I think): ...Mouse.

Dun dun dunnnn...

Ever since they started construction on the new laundromat downstairs we've had a few sightings of some surprisingly cute, but definitely unwanted mice. After a few pantry items were found with teeth marks, I cleaned out the kitchen of anything mouse-accessible and filled only some traps with edibles.

But it's like the damn things are evolved! They are smart as all-get-out. Deliberately avoiding anything made of black plastic that could bring about their downfall.

However...apparently, they are not immune to falling into open boxes. You have GOT to be kidding me.

I slowly climbed down off of my bed, aware of every creek made from my bare feet. Ever so delicately I walked towards the box. Gathering courage from somewhere deep inside I gradually peeked over the edge...When suddenly, “Oh Shit!!!”

I screamed and jumped back as it leaped up against the side of the box, seemingly coming right for my face. It slammed hard against the side of the box with a thud, followed by radio silence...I started to walk toward it again when, SLAM!

...unbelievable.

I spent the next half hour on the phone with my night owl father as he pep-talked me into getting close enough to the box without freaking out and screaming obscenities to close it up and tote the little fucker downstairs for a release into the wild. I felt like I should tag his ear before he scampered off behind the garbage bins.

There are a couple lessons in this here story:

1. Mice have ups. Turns out those little bastards can jump. Beware.
2. Even the smartest can fall into a trap sometimes

And recently, I have to tell you, I've felt an odd kinship with that adorable yet disgusting little mouse in the box. You see, there's been something else other than the extra holiday 5 weighing on me. For some reason, my birthday this past year didn't effect me, but the turn of the calender made things very real. THIS year, 2013, I will turn 30. And that is terrifying.

I started off January feeling trapped in this monumental feeling. Dwarfed by this 2000 lb, 30 yr old gorilla swinging from the highrise above my head. I've fallen into thinking that I “should have” this and “should have done” that. ...but I don't, and I haven't.

It was jabbing at my ribs. One would think that it would force me to action, but instead somehow it created a debilitating stillness. It captured my ambition and produced an inability to act, for fear of running out of time for “acceptable” failure.

(Not to mention dealing with the mere number. 30. Hell, I still feel 17. I should be hiding my alcohol from my parents and studying for my Social Studies test. How am I going to be 30?!)

But, unlike the mouse, I've nothing but myself to get me out of this rut. This feeling. I must simply force myself to action. I set up meetings, work on shows, write, audition, whatever. Just move.

It's easy to get into comparison mode. I mean hell, the Olsen twins were TV's Michelle before they could even walk. Kirsten Dunst and Julia Stiles have careers (I mean, really?!). I would have blown Anne Hathaway's Rachel Getting Married out of the water.

...but that's not MY path. So, I've got to accept mine without judgment or negativity. Bitch-slap my brain into submission, settle in and enjoy the process. However long it takes...

But that does not mean that I coast. Hell. To the. No. I work. I work, and I question little. Because, lets be honest, the really good questions have no answers.

So, aside from rescuing disgusting rodents from death by cardboard box, I've been quite the busy bee. Christmas time came and went, and I finally found myself in the Holiday Spirit after snuggling a puppy, decorating a tree and forcing my family into wearing stupid hats for a photo-op:

Both my father and Lincoln wanted to kill me...

 Then came New Years. My friends and I, rather than spend shit loads of money on a mediocre night on the town, decided to have a nice little old school style slumber party (And, no, boys. We don't actually pillow fight. Sorry to blow up your 13year old wet dream).

NYE. Pillow Fight not included.

Now, I'm full speed ahead with the nutrition business. It's almost ready for release into the universe and I can't wait because right now I feel so selfish holding onto it. Which I guess is a great way to feel about one's entrepreneurial efforts.

Sneak Peek! Rachel and me. ...coming soon!

I'm rehearsing a full length show for the end of February. It's a big undertaking, so I'm working hard on that. Also going to be doing a monologue night in Mid February. I was partnered with a killer playwright and I am so pumped to see what he comes up with for me. We met over coffee to get to know one another and chatted about life and family and the scariest way we can think of to die. ...just another business meeting...

So, while I'm trying to relax into the timing of my life, my goals are not slacking. 95% of my resolutions from last year were met within the first 6 months, I plan on repeating that success rate but times a million (that doesn't mathematically make sense...but you know what I mean.)

I have big freakin' plans, my friends. I will not be trapped by the pestering “shoulds” of 30. You heard it first.

I've done a lot in my 29.25 years. And truth be told, I'm loving life. Which is really the ultimate goal anyhow.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna shut the hell up and get to work. :)

(p.s. I wish you all a killer 2013! Health and happiness and amazing things.)