Bon Voyage [again]

Ah shit. The cursor is blinking at me again.

How do I start [over]?

[VIMH(c): …]

Thanks for nothing, asshole.

Well first, let me say sorry for the cliffhanger [again]. While part of me delighted in the symmetry of it, after starting my blog almost exactly one year ago in the same fashion, and while I’d like to pretend I did it on purpose, really my flight was just boarding and I had to go.

Somehow scored the exit row on this flight so. already winning today.

Where am I going?

Miami. [Party in the city where the heat is on. #WillSmithisacrazyscientologistnow]

After my trip last summer, I thought long and hard about what I was doing with my GD life. Yes, I am first and foremost an actor–that part of my identity is solid. But the intense depression that enveloped me after returning to my serving job in the city was due to more than just a lack of Vitamin D and the loss of my lady pirate tan [although this definitely was a large part of it].

My trip made me realize how much boating is a part of me, and how I need to make it a larger part of my life. As cliche as it may sound, I don’t have another way to say it: I need the sea.

Now, being rent-poor and destitute as a single lady pirate living in NY [guys it’s not at all like Friends], my resources are a bit limited as far as this goes. BUT. If I could find a way to do it as a job…

After hanging with our hired captains last summer, I thought about how fucking cool it is that they make a living making boat deliveries and charters, etc. The cold, hard truth is that all actors need a back-up plan, and food service is NOT an industry I want to find myself in much longer as I generally don’t enjoy having my soul sucked out of my asshole day in and day out. Idk maybe that’s your thing but it sure ain’t mine.

So why couldn’t I try to make a career out of my other passion? I mean, as an actor, I entered  into literally the hardest industry ever, why not choose another incredibly difficult industry to jump into?

[VIMH(c): We’re never going to have money, are we?]

Le sigh. Sorry Mom & Dad.

Now, to be honest, since I had this thought, I haven’t been very proactive, mainly because IDK MAJOR LIFE SHIFTS AND SHIT.

I had mentioned to Anne [remember her? our captain from last summer?] that this was something I was interested in, and so how lucky was I to get an email from her a few weeks ago saying that our hired captain, John [remember him? he took us across the Gulf?], had hired her to do a delivery with him and would I like to go?


Nah. No thanks.


So here I am, on Delta flight 2175 en route to Miami, as crew on the Sea Eagle, whose final destination is St. Thomas, BVI. [BECAUSE WHO NEEDS TO PAY RENT? LOLZ]

Our journey will take approximately 3 weeks, weather permitting, and will take us through the islands of the Bahamas until Turks and Caicos, where we will go offshore for approximately 5 days to Puerto Rico [sharks and storms and shipwrecks oh my].

So, I decided to dust off the domain and come back to fill y’all in as we go along.

Simultaneously, back in NYC, I am actually pursuing my other passion, as my blog material from last summer is being adapted into a play with original music. It is intensely personal, as you can imagine, and so I’d like to think that I am being brave two times at once. Go figure.

I will be performing a reading of the show, She is a Shipwreck, in NYC when I come back to dry land, and then in RI this summer, but more about the show later.

For now, we’re about to land in Miami and I’ll soon be instructed to turn off and stow all electronic devices, so I shall sign off. Can’t wait to meet Sea Eagle and start this ridiculous adventure.

Stay tuned, salty dawgs.


She’s Baaaaack

Fish[c]e and Cowardi[sh]ce

[yeah, that title is a stretch]

Hi World.

Long time no talk.

About 9 months to be exact. Enough time to grow a tiny human inside of me and birth it into the world. JK of course I didn’t do that because babies are gross and frightening as HELL.

I digress.

For those of you that were following along on our trip, I left all [7] of you in a pretty unfair way, and for that, I apologize. [SPOILER ALERT: We DID make it to Texas, and we DIDN’T die in the Gulf on our 55-hour offshore escapade like my abrupt drop off the earth made it seem.]

The trip was actually spectacular, as we were enGULFed [see what I did there] in both the natural beauty of the wide open gulf [sunrises and sunsets, rainbows and rainstorms], and simultaneously enGULFed [lolz i’m so clever] in a different kind of beauty provided by human ingenuity, the product of which manifested itself in the oil rigs that lined the channel that we traveled.


Rainbow, meet Sunset. Gulf of Mexico, August 28.

At night, the rigs lit up brilliantly, a runway of sorts. In the capable hands of our captains, John and Bryan, the lady pirates were able to sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

[How did that feel, you ask? To have to give up control to a couple of *men* after a summer that would make the suffragettes proud, defying every chauvinistic asshole in the south that said, “THREE LADIES? WHERE IS THE MAN???”

I won’t lie. It felt a bit like cheating. But on the flip side, it felt a bit like being the brave ladies we were, and knowing when something was beyond our expertise, and deciding that instead of worrying that we would be run over by a container ship crossing the channel in the night, we’d have a little vacation of our own. After all, we had fucking earned it.]

And a ride it was. Six foot swells rocked and taunted us, beautifully clear skies providing false hope for a calm passage. Even with the stabilizers, our couch was once again in the middle of the galley, crockpot full of chili in the sink for stabilization.

On the second day, I slept in [relative term. read: until about 8am] and woke up to the violent thrashing of our big girl and screaming. SCREAMING. SHIT.

I run upstairs expecting to see the engine room on fire or a giant great white shark-monster chomping on the back end of Black Powder. [are there great whites in the gulf? idk probs] Instead, reaching the top of the stairs to the pilot house, I was greeted by John, riding out the violent bucking of our big girl and, a big smile on his face, “WE’RE CATCHING FISH!!!!”

Indeed we were. Bryan, a ridiculously experienced fisherman, had our severely underprepared-for-the-fish-monsters-of-the-gulf fishing gear out in the water and my mom had a tuna on her line. [i think. i honestly don’t remember what kind of fish it was. are there tuna in the gulf? idk probs. remember this was a whole baby ago.]

When I tried my hand at this whole fishing thing, I snagged something so big it broke the line and we lost our good lure. Bryan said I hooked a wahoo. Look them up on wikipedia, those guys are huge and they’re CRAZY. [remember when we weren’t allowed to use wikipedia as a source? dumb]

Anyway. That night I got in trouble cause I was being dreamy and fell asleep under the stars on the bow but John and Bryan had no idea I was out there and I could very well have fallen overboard and no one would have known and in hindsight it was pretty stupid but omg those stars tho

Pulling into Galveston, as was fitting for this trip of ours, though we had beautiful weather all day, a torrential DOWNPOUR was what we were awarded with, visibility destroyed and hair soaking wet. FUCK YOU GALVESTON.


Soaking. Wet. But arrived.

My dad met us on the dock and, in true lady pirate fashion, we drank to our success.

End of story?


Is that what you want to hear?

Then there you go. There’s a cute little surface-scraping story about our cute little boat trip in which nothing life-altering happened.

[VIMH(c): remember me, bitch?]

All too well, VIMH, all. too. well.

[VIMH(c): tell them. tell them why you didn’t finish your story]

Full disclosure. I’m at the airport right now, at 9am, 3 hours early for my flight because JFK was supposed to be a shit-show but it was totally fine and therefore I am 3 hours early and so obviously I found the bar and a couple screwdrivers and I’m buzzing before the clock hit double digits. Why am I at the airport? Ah. That’s my reason for writing but we’ll get to that. ‘Cause suspense and stuff.

So why didn’t I finish?

It was too overwhelming. I made personal discoveries along the last few legs of that trip which I briefly discussed in my final entry but which rocked my world in a way that I didn’t know how to confront at the time.

So. My bad.

When I started off writing this blog I promised a level of honesty that I was incapable of following through with.

So instead I did what any good writer would do, and stopped writing.

[VIMH(c): Coward.]

Yeah, I guess so.

I came back from our trip a changed human. Unsure and afraid. So, I blew my life up again. I am now divorced from a man who loved me so and who tried so hard to show me that I could live his way, and force happiness when in fact, I had discovered that I could not. In hindsight, I did not do it in the right way. I dragged it out, again cowardly awaiting his revelation of the fact which I already knew: that we weren’t right for each other any more.

A product of my illness? Time will tell, but I don’t think so.

I achieved a clarity of mind on our trip unlike anything I’d felt before or I’ve felt since.

Yes, we were young. 16 and 17 when we started dating, we married at only 22 and 23. At the time, we were convinced that there was nothing else in the world for us. To be fair, at the time, we were also convinced that Lost was the best TV show that could ever exist [when it’s clearly Newsroom or Homeland] and also that life would bring us endless opportunity and bliss. LOLZ

I do believe that people come in and out of each others’ lives for a reason. [i’ve heard it said… sorry the musical theatre nerd in me will always prevail ] I do not regret one second of my marriage or my relationship with my ex-husband. I believe that we were meant to survive our 20s together. And survive we did. And though he should have left me years ago, he stuck through it and for that he deserves an award. He’s a catch, ladies. Find him in LA and line up.

We split up the pups and so my summer with Copernicus will be one I will treasure forever.


Copernicus on the bow. Keeping watch. Gulf of Mexico, August 29, 2016.

OK. Now that THAT’S over and I’m crying in public at this hotel bar, sitting next to an empty screwdriver and an entire bachelorette party…

Why did I resurrect myself from the grave and come back to grace you all with my presence?

Well, I’m doing something stupid again.