so this gal is taking a road trip to L.A. june 28th. can't wait.
well, i can't lie to myself...of course i wanted to go to lexington. of course i did.
but it would have been too hard (for obvious reasons.) so much history there. perhaps in the fall, i'll be able to go, but for now time apart is needed; things just would not work. so much cruelty has been said and things just need to dissipate. if we're meant to be friends, it'll happen.
veering back to my trip, though: this will be my first road trip without my parents. odd, huh? i've traveled everywhere in the states, but mostly with them!
STAY POSITIVE SAMMY. and finish your fucking awesome (so far) song.

i am so grateful for everything i have. in the end all you have is your family and your girlfriends. mommy, daddy, jordynne, tiffany, afomia, sudie, kristen, charlotte, no matter what, you are the greatest support and i know you love me. i love you too.  if times are ever rocky between me and any of you, i know there's unconditional love underneath it all.


anyway, to those who love me, thank you for giving me inspiration, listening to me banter about random things, and just being there. i unfortunately am not super woman, as i'd like to be, and i do have feelings, so i appreciate your understanding.  i am always there for you. if you need a shoulder to cry on, a passionate hug, some cigarettes to calm your nerves, or an impromptu photoshoot, or a good old bitching from me to your worst enemy, or a night drive, or a song, or a run to taco bell, or a back scratch/arm scratch, or SOMETHING, i'm here. suppressing things doesn't get anyone ANYWHERE. i've spent too much of my life trying to deal with all my feelings and bury them until they don't exist anymore but all it does is create bitterness. i don't get why i did it when i KNEW talking about something made me feel a little better. or crying it out. or something. but no, i had to be a robotic girl who never shed a tear or told anybody anything. well, what i've learned since being back from london is that your family is always there in your heart. whether they've untimely left you, or are miles away, or can't even communicate with you, they are in your heart. for people who complain that they have no one to talk to, yes you do. i bet your parents would be thrilled to talk to you person to person, no bullshit. and your parents will love you more than any lover will. of course it's different, i understand this--the quality of love is different, but the quantity will never be matched to those who brought you into the world. i hate kids, but i sure as hell can appreciate parents. and siblings. and those wonderful friends who were once strangers in our lives. isn't that absolutely nuts?

i know this whole entry is just one big hallmark card. but who cares. i mean what i say. i don't give bullshit answers or say low insults to someone just to get a reaction. i'm angry, i'm angry and exhausted. but i'm also trying to be better everyday and be grateful and be happy. i try to be happy, but my efforts haven't paid off yet.

i know my faults.
but i am not a bad person.
i do not take things for granted because in an instant, they can be ripped out of your life; they can gut you entirely and make you bleed until you ask for mercy. 


i hate to say this, but i don't think i'm capable of trusting a relationship for a very, very long time.

the four letter word.

there are times where i don't think anybody will be ever be in love with me. maybe they'll want to sleep with me or have me around to be the obligatory crazy person who rolls their eyes and says bitchy commentary, but i don't think it's possible for anyone to be in love with me. not to say i'm not loved by many. but in love, romantically, is another story.  only one person i'm aware who has felt that way for me and they're not anymore and it has only been one person. all my life, nobody else has expressed a deep passion for me that i've actually believed. i don't expect to have a sea of desperate fish clinging onto me in a wave of blind infatuation, i just want to be appreciated. is that so hard? i'm not crazy, i'm actually quite stable and intuitive.  ha... i think.
god, the very thought of all this sickens me. who cares about love? seriously? it'll just fuck you over in the end. people with big hearts, endless compassion for certain others, and sexual desires only if there is a true connection--those people get hurt the most. i will never understand people who can just casually fuck each other. call me old-fashioned, but it's true, and hey, i fucking love sex! but it's got to matter.
i've had the yearning to change my ways, go on dates, maybe talk to a few people at once, but it simply is not me. i am 100% loyal into whomever i invest my time. i figure, my standards are already so high, i'm never going to date a fool. with this mindset, however, i drive myself into this volatile agony. should i entertain the inevitable course that fate brings? or should i attempt to change myself? i don't even believe in fate, really. things happen because they just fucking happen, and the problem is that we humans try to concoct up these reasons behind why things turn out the way they do, but it's just a never-ending shit show of haughty opinions and theories.
i don't know what's going on with my demeanor. there's a part of me that feels renewed and happy. i can't say i've felt this version of happiness before. coming from london, i felt at peace with myself. coming back from dallas, i feel uneasiness and insecurities that i swear i had completely obliterated. when i view my interactions with others from a bird-eye perspective, i see a genuine person. if anything, i'm genuine. and i've got enough integrity to feed a small village of baddies.
to veer subjects (somewhat), how can you have trust and faith in someone when they don't give you any reason to bestow such a sacred goodness to them? there's a question i've been circulating through my mental facilities as of late: would you rather be hurt by the person you love the most, or trust the most? it took me a while to come up with an answer.  and the answer is love, i'd rather be hurt by love than trust.  my reasoning? giving your trust to someone is pretty much the most precious goodness (i know, lame, but i seriously cannot think of any other word) you can give. and it insults your intellect, your sense of judgment, and your gut instinct when someone you trust hurts you. sometimes love is purely blind and you have no grip of ethical or logical reasoning behind it, that's why it is love. though it hurts, it somehow is able to get away with subtracting a stable answer.

"Why were you in love with them?"
"I don't know, I just can't explain it."
"Why do you trust them?"
"Because we've got an inner dialogue between us, thriving with connectivity."

now i'm rambling. i'm just trying to make sense of the foreign thoughts penetrating my brain. see? normally i'd laugh at the usage of the word penetrate, because i'm undeniably silly, but shit--i don't have a sense of humor right now.
going back to the interaction with others bit, i'm constantly surveying my behavior. how it comes off to others and how i feel about it. and i also ponder, would i want to have a friend like myself? yes, yes i would. because i am loyal. i will never leave a friend drowning in misery. with that said, i have to do what's best for my sanity as well.
i've lost the map with this blog entry--i'm stumbled upon many issues, and of course, never wading in them long enough to gain some feeling of closure with my words.
i guess at the end of the day, it saddens me that i'm human--that i feel human feelings and do human doings. how easy it would be if i didn't need the affection of someone. but i suppose that would be boring. and i'm far from boring.

it’s very hard to describe your love for a pet to some people. i come across a lot of individuals who like their pets, but only a few rare ones who adore and unconditionally love them. i’ve had my little wolfgang (weezy) for about four and a half years. not nearly enough time to enjoy his shining presence. weezy’s always been a little slow, perpetually snotty, but his love and affection has always been unwavering. and the cat does not age!  he still looks like a kitten. constantly rolling around, stealing chips out of my hand, letting me dress him up. he’s the only cat i’ve met that isn’t terrified of the vaccuum cleaner or of ANY animal. in march, his snot/weezing behavior got worse and he was soon diagnosed with untreatable cancer of the sinuses. a large tumor has formed in the middle of his forehead, pushing and puffing his eyes apart to the point where he cannot see any more. the cancer has also eaten away the bridge of his nose and he can only breathe from his mouth, causing massive drooling. to see my poor baby undergo this disease is the most heartbreaking thing, because there is absolutely nothing that can be done for him. he has brought me and others so much joy; my only regret with him is that i didn’t take him to nursery homes or hospitals, because he truly has this remarkable charm to him. ask anyone who’s met him. he could have been the #1 therapy cat. and/or tv cat. he’s so fucking adorable.

the difficult and true trial of rationality has been deciding if we should euthanize him or let him slowly slip into an eternal slumber at home. honestly, i’m amazed he’s lasted this long—he’s a trooper. he has moments where he’s excited to eat, he runs down the stairs to greet people, and always seeks out the company of someone. but now, he’s started to hide. this was the point where i knew his suffering was becoming unbearable and it would be selfish to keep him any longer.  
i’m well aware that i’m describing weezy and his conditions as if he was a person, and that would totally freak some people out. but those of you who cherish your pets, i know you understand. 

weezy just turned five today and this is also my last night with him. 
i love you forever my little baby. 

late night stipulations

on paper, on facebook, on whateverthefuckyouwant, my life looks shiny and dandy.  i love being an actor, because i can fucking fool almost everybody that my life is indeed shiny and dandy.
i've got to have a sense of humor, or else i'd be the most melancholy person ever.  and i will NOT glorify the depressed artist stereotype.
the tricky thing is, my life really is great, if you think about it, but it's totally not at the same time.  that doesn't even remotely make any sense--i am well aware of that--but somehow it is my reality.
i've reached a strange point in my life, a point where i have shed off layers and grown new, thick, durable, wise skin. i'll tell you right now, i'm a hell of a lot smarter than i was even 6 months ago.  but my hunger for success has literally been infused in my soul like a goddamn tumor and it is all i can think about.  i don't want any of this petty lifestyle shit.  i am sammy fucking rios and i know i've got a fuckload of talent and insight and creativity that needs to be unleashed.  college is great, i don't regret one bit of it, but i can't say i'll be sad when i graduate.  it's time for a change in my life.  i just have to kill it this last year.  FUCKING KILL IT.

i know i've already bitten off more than i can chew for this fall semester, including:

-being a T.A. for a lower level theatre class
-taking an independent study with Will Power
-being in Crave
-directing How To Disappear Completely And Never Be Found
-being in DTC's Christmas Carol
-working in the recruiting office
-applying for a Meadow's Exploration Award
-directing Yours Truly

...lord, and this is before the semester has even started.  once it starts, things will only pile on.  i drive myself crazy with how much i do.  but i drive myself crazy with nothing to do.  the second one is worse.  obviously.
as far as matters of the heart go, i really need to be single for a while.  although i find comfort in the arms of a few lucky (yeah, i said it) people, it makes you appreciate it more when you don't constantly have that comfort.  also, i don't settle.  i don't waste my time.  and i will not have my heart broken again (not if i can help it.)  ha, i make myself laugh.  "i will not have my heart broken."  i have no right to say that; who the fuck HAS their heart broken by choice?

things i need to do/maintain:

-eat (as crazy as that sounds, waking up at 2 pm = no breakfast, no lunch, junk food that just meshes into beer and dinner, which brings me to my next point:)
-not wake up at 2 pm
-outline Yours Truly
-tone up my body
-keep in contact with those i care about (i'm bad about that.)
-keep trying to grow my hair out/NOT chop it off
-save up enough money for my trips to kentucky/florida/california
-GO THROUGH ALL MY FUCKING CLOTHES AND SELL ALL THE SHIT I DON'T WEAR
-crack down on music
-make a website for myself (procrastinating big time on that...)
-BE A BETTER HUMAN BEING

sanctity.

bored in this city called san antonio

laying here

DECOMPOSING

You know, it’s pretty self-indulgent and arrogant when people deem their lives momentous enough to document the actions and events of their days. If you take a personal diary, for instance, I suppose you could say journaling is a way of expressing our ‘inner feelings and deepest secrets’. In my opinion, it’s a way of making our lives seem more important than they really are, because we are desperate to concrete memories, to lay out a path of past events so we can look back in fond recollections…sheesh, this is starting to sound like my theatre history essay for Krapp’s Last Tape. Anyway, I digress, I meander, I veer off… I look at my argument above, I process it, I know why I feel that way about memories and the documentation of them, and I fucking throw it out of the window, because the past few months of my life have been the most enlightening rite of passages in ways I could have never predicted or anticipated. My whole life I’ve always searched for inspiration, total self awareness, ecstasy…things of that nature. I’m hungry for creating something completely of this world; I can’t even fathom what that something is or what it entails, but that’s the mystery and beauty of my drive. In addition to all of that mumbo jumbo, I’ve always admired England—pretty much everything about it. I had this image, this romantic, idealistic image of me walking down the streets, cigarette in hand, clicking shoes since I walk so damn hard, soaking in the city through every one of the fives senses. This image had to become my reality, thus igniting the sparks of my love for England. My worst enemy is wading in stagnant waters, going through daily routines of expected productivity; it’s amusing that I have this fear, because I’ve never truly fallen victim to it. Being at SMU has opened so many doors for me—I’ve discovered my love for playwriting, I’ve made not just friends, but family, and I’ve grown in ways I’m not particularly good at articulating (that’s fun to say, isn’t it?) When the whole STUDY ABROAD idea became within actual reach, I hesitated to let myself wholly fall into its arms. There were concerns about missing out on a semester at SMU, risking my relationship (at the time), and being forgotten. Ha, that last one is hilarious, hilaRIOS. Excuse my moment of vanity, but Sammy Rios is not forgotten. And see? That was totally unnecessary, but I’m trying to be as honest as I can with this whole remembrance of BADA (because yes, that’s what this whole thing will eventually be about, I just like long ass introductions.) I remember the night before I left, I was having doubts about going—that right there is worthy of being shot in the foot, because this has turned to be the most supreme thing for me. I’m prepared to be unable to answer the question “What did you learn being abroad?” simply for the fact that I can’t accurately express it in conversation. I’ll try to here, I really will try. To put it plainly, BADA is theatre camp. It’s unlike most study abroad programs, where a university hosts your generally easy classes, you meet local students, and you have ample amount of time to explore the city/party your nuts off. Yeah I know I’m generalizing something I haven’t even undergone, but you have to understand the difference. We’re talking straight up theatre conservatory classes from 9-6 for 8 weeks, going home when it’s already dark, and continuing to do the work at home. Memorizing a million things at once, diving into serious character work, trying to deal with the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual exhaustion that anyone in theatre knows comes with the challenge. Now, there’s plenty of room for fun, and unfortunately I was late in the game experiencing that, because in addition this being the best time of my life, it was also the absolute worst. Let me reiterate and capitalize, THE ABSOLUTE WORST. Heartbreak to the extreme, let me tell you. I won’t go into major details about the situation, but I spent a good chunk sulking over affairs in America. I’ve said this before: I hate how much time I wasted being sad, but if that’s what it took for me to come out the other side completely shining, then it was worth it. People always say “Have no regrets” and it’s like, ok, that’s impossible, but in all actuality, you can’t, because things happen as they happen, and you will try to come up with your own reasons behind why they happen in order to ease your wary mind, but you’ll never truly know. It’s out of your hands. Life is going to occur whether you like it or not and it’s your responsibility to deal with it the most mature way you can. So, even though I had those moments of wanting to quit the program and fly back home, that’s simply how I felt at the time. I can’t regret it—I can realize how ludicrous it was, but I can’t regret it. Okay, life lesson with Sammy is over. Back to the program. So, you get thrown into a group of theatre kids, all with overbearing personalities, and you’re expected to coexist. I always take a long time to warm up to people, because I like to survey my peers and essentially let relationships happen as they may. It’s easy to coerce a relationship with a person; I tend to find that less effective. You have to sorta filter out the people you aren’t compatible with, so you don’t waste your time. That’s terrible, right? How can a person like me think that’s ok? But in the end, it’s unforced chemistry between people, survival of the fittest, AND in this business, it’s who you know. So maybe I do possess a crude outlook on friendships, but I’m able to say the friends I made in BADA are meaningful, they aren’t surface relationships, and that’s all I can ask for. One thing that has changed for me: being able to affect other people’s lives for the better while making it your own experience. I’m not sure that sentence entirely made sense. Let me try to explain: yes, I care about myself a lot, maybe more than most people care about themselves, but what right do I have to make that proclamation without knowing how much people care about themselves, thus proving HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT MYSELF and how highly I take my own opinion. I am well aware of my strengths and weaknesses, I know how my heart works, I can be quite selfish. With that said, I care so much about people. Genuine care and interest. Being at BADA has only heightened that care, I’m able to put my needs aside in order to help someone and it’s out of the true wanting to help that person. It’s not for me at all and it’s an altruistic beauty. I know I can be a bitch sometimes, but it’s only out of tough love. I suppose you could say TOUGH LOVE is my motto in life. Tough, pure love. People will come in and out of your life and you have to be grateful for the time you have with them, and make it the best. Okay, life lesson number two done. Sorry, not trying to get all philosophical on you. Let’s talk about London. Life overseas, on all ends of the spectrum, differs on every level (that was redundant.) The city is effortlessly romantic, crowded with fast-paced individuals, an optimistic cynicism (ha, don’t ask me what that means), and has this uncanny knack for grabbing your heart. I know I’ll return to London. I know it won’t be same, because I won’t be with the same group of people, but the city will remain the same—it’s timeless in a sense. You don’t really notice too much construction; they’re not tripping ahead of themselves in order to have the best and baddest buildings that America seems to crave. Things I’ll miss: the importance of tea, digestives, the parks, Yumchaa, the pull switches for the bathrooms, the tube, EAT tuna melts, going to the lockers to refill my water bottles, getting 3 Stella ciders for 5 pounds, the muzzle dog in Regents, the entirety of Modern Physical, those two days of final showings of Shakespeare scenes/monologues, Waitrose brand pesto (a gift from above), the busyness of Picadilly Circus, the ice cream truck in front of BADA…the list could go on forever. I hate how sentimental I get, but I secretly love it. Passionate people are a double-edged sword and I don’t really think you can be in theatre without the sheer passion so it looks like we’re all in it for a lifetime of overwhelming emotions! Hurray! It’s why we do it though, aren’t I right? It’s bizarre: I maintain this feeling of closure just by writing this all down. It’s hard to process that last Friday night, I was with all of my newfound family and now we’re all scattered across the world again. It’s a tough thing to deal with, especially after the high of all of the shows going up and the wonderful gathering after Tristan and Yseult. I find myself trying to unearth a better word than bittersweet, but I’m not sure there is one. That night may be the one of the strangest nights I’ve ever had, and you gotta understand, I’ve had a lot of strange nights. I wonder though, am I being dramatic? I can only speak for myself about this program, but I have this inkling that everyone feels somewhat like this. There’s an emptiness in my heart for London, but at the same time it’s filled with the best memories. I sound like the biggest sap in the world, and you know what…I probably am, but I could fucking care less. I’m not one to hang on things or live in the past, and this won’t be any different. I’ve grown so much as an actor, a woman, a friend—I’m ready to take what I learned and kill it my senior year and continue to kill it my entire life, because I’m not afraid to say that I’m going places anymore. For everyone in BADA, I wish you the best of luck and you can always come to me if you need anything. And for everyone at SMU thinking about going to BADA, you are truly in for the paramount experience of your young adult life if you choose to make it that way. There’s a reason they even offer study abroad programs during college—it’s the best time in your life to go. Thank you to everyone, especially a handful of you and you know who you are, who committed themselves to this intense program.

Damn. I feel like I could write a book about this, but sometimes less is more, in the words of Chris Cook’s writing prompt.

i can't wait to wear shorts and no jacket.

i can't wait to see all of my beautiful friends.

in two weeks...

...this girl is off to london.

i'm trying to make an unwavering point to journal my pre-departure concerns. i get to soak in two weeks of being home; it's safe to declare two weeks a perfect time at home.

yesterday i ate at my first hibachi grill. as we were browsing through the menu, a chef at another table had this entire performance prepared (i have to say, he knew what he was doing) and at the end, he tried aiming shrimp into people's mouths. i just so happened to look over and he totally hit this woman in the eye. i suppose i was in a giddy, delirious state from the night drive to san antonio, because this small moment struck me as the funniest thing ever. it was great.

anyhow, i put a jar of olive oil mayonnaise into my hair tonight, let it sit for about 50 minutes, washed it, pinned it, blow dried it, and BAM! SOFTEST HAIR EVER. i can't believe it. after all the shit i've done to it, this mayonnaise replenished my brittle, color-demaged, tangled dread-like curls to the light, bouncy ringlets they were once upon a time. fucking awesome.

okay i'm tired of writing.

lord have mercy i was a mega bitch today, i apologize!