The Days of My Life

The Days of My Life

I’m pretty sure that all of my problems can be traced back to this perm.

Growing up, I had one simple dream: To be Hope Brady from the soap opera Days of Our Lives. (If you haven’t heard of Days of Our Lives, you are obviously 12 years old and shouldn’t be reading this blog. You should be doing your homework. But if you’re an adult and get the chance, Google it. It’s been around for like 100 years and it’s AMAZING.)
Hope Brady had everything I wanted to have: great hair, skinny thighs, lots of friends and the town dreamboat, Bo Brady.

Thanks to my awesome grandma, I was introduced to Hope Brady and soap operas at the impressionable young age of five. And so began a life of unrealistic expectations and disappointment.

When I was old enough to realize that I was never going to be Hope Brady, like it was physically impossible for me to be her, I decided to shift my focus to a more attainable dream: becoming a famous actress. How hard could that be, right? I’d move to New York City, take a few classes, pay my dues working in community theater for a couple years and then get discovered by a big-time director while walking in the West Village.

Except it wasn’t that easy. After nearly a decade in Manhattan, I was no closer to my dream than the day I left the small Connecticut suburb I grew up in for the big city. So I decided it was high time I came down to earth and set a more realistic goal. I would make all those years of mental illness, bad boyfriends, odd jobs and missed opportunities work for me: I would write a memoir! And what better way to achieve a dream of writing a book than to start a blog. Am I right? Actually, this is probably a huge waste of time …

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