Little Falcon Heene and the Hot Air Balloon

Yes, I know I'm late on this one, but my uncle sent me the comic strip this morning and it reminded me of how I felt last week.  When the story first came on the radio, I immediately thought, "That kid isn't even in the balloon.  He's somewhere else."  I thought this because of the movie 12 monkeys, and the kid was supposed to have fallen into a well, but he was really hiding in the barn.  Movies and television have made me skeptical.  I'm great at solving the case, but occasionally, my judgement gets cloudy.

The more the story played, the more I decided that really, this poor 6 year old kid had plummeted to his death.  I was so sad for him!  I couldn't imagine this poor little guy, all alone in some make shift contraption and just scared and missing his parents.  This story really started to pull at my heart strings and I said a prayer that the object that fell from the balloon wasn't him.  I mean, I was a woman invested in the safe return of this kid.  So then why did his safe return seem cheapened?  I'll tell you why.  Because you can't tell people that a kid climbed into a balloon, flew away, the balloon was recovered with no kid in it, and then all of a sudden recall that something fell from the balloon.  Thursday afternoon was emotionally draining!  And then, after all of this, after all that we were put through, the kid turns out to be in an attic.  No.  Unacceptable.  The only acceptable way for this to turn out was that the search party found him, and yes, he had fallen, but had somehow magically bounced from tree branch to tree branch and then landed without a scratch on him.  That was how the story should have ended.

Do we know why the parents built a hot air balloon?  Was it because of the movie "Up"?  Did they want to go to Argentina?  I'm just so confused about all of it.  And why were they on "Wife Swap"?  Anyway.  We're all glad that little Falcon is home safe and we're all glad that he didn't have to experience the terrible journey that we all thought he was on.  Now Falcon, don't you pull a stunt like that again.  Next time I'll come to Colorado and spank you.

Edrei's Preschool Graduation Day

Yeah, you read right.  Edrei's Preschool Graduation Day.  Let me just go ahead and explain this one to you.  From time to time, I like to Google myself and see what pops up.  I've found that if I search "Edrei", that things about other people named Edrei will pop up.  If I search "Edrei Hutson", then my Facebook fan page is the first thing that comes up.  Well, I decided to start to search for me in other places.  Today, it just so happens that I was on youtube and saw an opportunity for an "Edrei" search.  Needless to say, the preschool graduation thing caught my eye immediately.  I don't quite remember what was running through my mind, but I'm sure that I knew it wasn't me.  

I clicked on the link and my suspicion that it was someone else was confirmed.  I will go ahead an encourage you to check out little Edrei's preschool graduation.  Actually, no, don't do that.  It's pretty boring.  

When I was on myspace, I would periodically do a search for my name, and it went from 4 pages to 7 pages to 11 pages.  I stopped looking after that because it became depressing.  Edrei's are coming out of the wood work!  There seem to be a lot of Asian and Hispanic people named Edrei.  It's all very interesting.  I was first confronted with this issue when I moved to Philly 4 years ago.  I went to the bank to open a bank account and the woman pronounced my name correctly.  I was surprised so I said, "Wow.  No one ever gets my name right."  What she said in response blew my mind, "Oh, well I have a friend named Edrei."  What!  Obviously it seems absurd that I would think that I was the only one...but you've all met me...I thought I was the only one!

I wonder if we have any of the same personality traits.  I like to think that having a unique name plays a huge roll in making me the person that I am today.  For instance, I am great with names.  I remember names and you better believe that I am going to pronounce it correctly.  My name is Edrei, not Ed or Eddie or some other variation.  Granted, once I know and love you, then you can give me whatever nick name you want.  But when I first meet someone, I don't want him/her asking me what else they can call me.  You can call me Edrei, just like everyone else.  Because of situations like that, I am very sensitive to names, and when I meet someone with a unique name, I make sure that I pronounce it correctly.  You'll be surprised at how many people will give you a nick name just because they are used to everyone butchering their real name.  Well not on my watch, new friend.  Your name is safe with me.

I think I got off on a rant somewhere.  Sorry about that!  Please do not let this discourage you from naming your children after me.  

Practicing Hypocrisy

I guess I should start by letting you know that I don't believe in motorcycles.  Not that I don't believe they exist, but that they are dangerous and people shouldn't ride them.  I didn't just make this decision out of impulse; it is well thought out.  When I was 22 or 23 I rode on the back of a Harley, and I'll admit, it was frightening at first but then it turned into great fun.  Regardless of all of that, it's still dangerous.  

I drove a conversion van, yeah, the van with the carpet on the walls, blinds and curtains on the windows, over sized reclining chairs and the bench that converts into a bed.  And while I would cruise around calmly in this over sized vehicle, I was immediately freaked out any time I saw a bike.  That's right, a bicycle, motorcycle, and I'm sure I would have been freaked out by a tricycle.  People who ride motorcycles always say that they are safe drivers and they'll be fine, and I'm sure that they are, but what about the people on the road who aren't and will accidentally hit you?  

So yesterday I was getting ready to run an errand with my cousin and he said, "Let's take the bike."  And I tried to fight it, but he was dead set on taking the bike out.  Luckily, this is one of those 3 wheeled motorcycles, a Can Am Spyder.  Yep, it looks just like the picture.  So I was sitting on the back of this bike and I was scared for my life!  My cousin was driving so fast!  I looked at the speedometer a few times, and no, we really weren't going fast, but when your only safety is you holding on to a couple of handles, then 60 miles an hour is way too fast.  There were a couple of times when I thought that I was going to die, but I just prayed and held on tight.  Everyone was staring at us.  People in cars were smiling and waving at us, I didn't wave back because I had to hold on for dear life.  Other bikers would pull up next to us and comment on the bike.  It really is a cool bike.  It gets up to 200 miles an hour, so I'm thankful that we didn't do that....

I decided that riding on the back of the bike reminded me of riding on the back of a jet ski.  That was super scary too, but driving the jet ski was the most fun.  So, I get it.  I get what the hype is about with motorcycles, I just think they are so dangerous and I am a hypocrite for getting on one.

Life Altering Events

Every now and again something will happen that takes your life to the next level.  Up until this point, my life has been heightened by what I like to consider "normal" things, such as travel, food, books, music, etc.  These normal things have helped to shape me and make me who I am today, and they are considered normal because I have access to them whenever I please.  

Well, this morning I was faced with an opportunity to heighten my life again.  I stood there staring at the shower in my cousin's room and knew that once I stepped in, there was no turning back.  Did I want to do this to myself?  Once you have experienced nice things, it's hard to go back to what you had before.  I can't go back to VHS now that I have DVDs.  I can't go back to Nintendo after having played a Playstation 3.  And now, now I have to go back to bad showers after having experienced the most amazing shower of my life.  

Every shower I've ever had, up until this point, was considered the best shower of my life as long as it met the criteria: the proper temperature and the proper amount of time.  Simple, right?  It doesn't take a lot to have an amazing shower.  So, what about this shower that I had today made it so special that I have to blog about it?  Picture this: 3 shower heads coming out of the wall, plus a detachable massaging shower head and a rain fall shower head from above.  Also, there was a water temperature control gage.  One by one, I began to turn knobs in the shower, and one by one something started to spray the perfect temperature of water.  I knew even before I got in there that I was making a huge mistake.  And as I stood there, not wondering if I had gotten all of the shampoo out of my hair or all of the soap off my body, because with water hitting you from every angel, you don't have to worry about those things, I started to think of every shower I had had in the past and how they just didn't compare.

Sadly, I turned off the water and then spent another 5 minutes just standing in there, wrapped in my towel.  Oh, I think that I failed to mention that this shower also doubles as a steam room.  It has the tile bench that you could sit on and steam, if you wanted to.  I did not.  I thought that it would be best for me to not become delusional and start to pretend that I could afford luxury items like this.  One day.  One day I will have an amazing shower like that, and then every shower will once again be the best shower ever.

Mixed Emotions

My last day of work was on August 20th.  Since then I have just been enjoying my free time.  I started off making great use of that time by working out everyday and doing some reading and writing, but lately I've found that I'm just laying around wasting away.  I told my dad yesterday that I feel like I'm just sitting around depending on other people for survival and I hate that!  I moved to Philly with nothing and I made it work, so why is this different?  I keep telling myself that I should stop complaining and be grateful that I have family who is able and willing to help me.  But I need more than that.  I guess I'm just worried that if things don't happen for me soon, I will start to be a burden and then people will regret helping me.  I am kind of annoying.

While reading an acting book this morning I started to realize something; my friend BB and I are working on a screen play and one of the characters was really hard for me to develop because I had no way of connecting with her and her situation.  These past few days have really given me a sense of the struggle that is similar to what this character is dealing with.  Well, mine is less severe than her situation, but it's a start.

I will admit that as I go through trying times, I do my best to live in the moment and commit my feelings to memory because I have no way of knowing if I will need to summon it for a future role or for a character I'm writing.  The only thing about living in the moment is that you are forced to experience the pain.  Perhaps this system is flawed.  LOL.  Sigh.  This too shall pass.

Who Is It?

I've been staying with my aunt for the past few weeks, and since being here, I've learned more about Michael Jackson than anyone. My aunt is a fanatic; my cousins even call her obsessed. Well, yesterday we were on youtube watching all of Mike's old videos, and when we came to "Who is it", my aunt told me something I did not know. This song was written for us. Now, I remember hearing the song when I was in middle school and loving the beat and singing to it like someone had wronged me, but when I heard my aunt describe the true meaning, I felt ashamed. It's not very often that I am forced to feel total remorse for something that I've done. The last time I remember feeling this way was when I poured salt on a slug as a child. I just stood there crying and my dad asked me how I felt and what I learned from that. This was that same type of feeling.

Obviously I didn't know Michael Jackson, and obviously I never personally did anything to the man, but in some obscure way, I did. In some obscure way, we all did. I fed into the hype that he was bleaching his skin because he wanted to be white. While I never believed that he molested those kids, I did believe that he had psychological issues and many other things wrong with him. The man was human. He was flawed just like the rest of us. I listen to the lyrics of "Who is it" and I feel as though I failed as a Christian. My only job is to live like Jesus lived, and I'll tell you, Jesus would not have passed judgement on that man.

Read the lyrics, listen to the song. We loved him and left him and offered up no explanation.

http://www.elyrics.net/read/m/michael-jackson-lyrics/who-is-it-lyrics.html

The fear of insects is called "entomophobia". There is no specific fear of cockroaches.

But I don't have a fear of insects; I have a fear of roaches. A bug is just a bug, but a roach, a roach is offensive and will cause me to shake and consider moving.

I was with my cousin and his friend at a Taco Bell by USC on Friday. They were talking at the counter and I went and sat down at a table to make some phone calls. While I was sitting there talking, a guy across from me started talking about a roach and how gross it was. He started walking towards me and I looked at his face and followed his gaze to the floor. What I saw was so disturbing and imprinted in my brain that I couldn't close my eyes for several hours after without seeing it's horrible figure. Talk about being shook up! This roach was easily, EASILY, 3 inches long. Yeah, that's the length of my cell phone. Not only was he abnormally large, but he seemed like he was raised up on hydros. He seemed semi elevated off the ground. The man walked right over and stepped on him. Crunch. I promise you that had I eaten anything that day, I would have vomited it up immediately. IMMEDIATELY. I felt so ill. All I could think about was getting out of there and thanking God that I wasn't getting anything to eat.

We got back in the car and my cousin started to talk about how that roach looked as though it had evolved. I was just sitting in the back seat shaking. We dropped my cousin's friend off and he asked me if I was ready to get something to eat. I could have cried. I was still so shaken up. It was too much. Too much. Believe me when I say that I don't deal with tini tiny roaches and I definitely don't deal with genetically mutated roaches. I spent the next hour just being unhappy.

Addicted to Dexter

I know, I know. I was gone for a long time. You'll have to forgive me, but I wasn't feeling very motivated. I don't know what's been going on with me, but it seems as though I've hit a stagnant patch. Not only have I not been writing to you, but I haven't been writing in my journal or working on any of my movies. I just feel kinda blah right now. Like I'm just laying around and waiting to see what is going to happen as opposed to me actually getting out and trying to make something happen. Well in the midst of all my blah-ness, I discovered that my aunt has Showtime. Yeah, I don't know how I managed to miss that. Needless to say, once I discovered the hidden treasure, I immediately went to On Demand, and fuled my addiction.

When I left Philly, I had only seen through Season 2 and I was craving Season 3, but it wasn't out on DVD yet. So imagine my surprise when I realized that not only was it available, but it was available in the comfort of my own home and I didn't have to wait for the discs to arrive. And really, this is when bad things happen. I watched nothing else between Sunday afternoon and Monday, stopping only to eat, sleep and use the restroom. And then, as if God knew that I could use a pick me up, Season 4 was made available to me. What! So, I watched the first 3 episodes of Season 4, and now I sit here, sad, because I must wait until Sunday to see the next episode. That kind of sucks. I'm thinking of taking on a new series. The Tudors is a Showtime show...any thoughts?

Animals With Eating Disorders

I was eating lunch with my aunt the other day and she tossed a fry to a bird. Several birds swarmed around the fry, and my aunt tossed out a few more fries. I turned to her and said, "Auntie. You know good and well that you shouldn't feed those birds fries. We're not even supposed to be eating fried food!" I then proceeded to tell her about the obese squirrels that my friends and I had encountered while camping at the Grand Canyon.

There were signs every where that asked us politely to refrain from feeding the animals. We found a nice spot on our hiking trail to set up our picnic. No sooner than we sat down did two morbidly obese squirrels come scurrying/waddling up to us. Needless to say, we promptly ignored the pleas from the sign and started to feed the squirrels Cheetos. In hind sight, that may not have been the nicest thing to do.

In keeping with the theme of animals who should not be eating fattening foods, I have decided to attach this email I got yesterday. Please enjoy!

A seagull in Point pleasant Beach, NJ has developed the habit of stealing Doritos from a neighborhood convenience store. The seagull waits until the manager isn't looking, and then walks into the store and grabs a snack-size bag of cheese Doritos. Once outside, the bag gets ripped open and shared by other birds. The seagull's shoplifting started early this month when he first swooped into the store in Point Pleasant Beach, NJ, and helped himself to a bag of Doritos. Since then, he's become a regular. He always takes the same type of chips. The manager thinks it's great because people are coming to watch the feathered thief make the daily grab and run, and that's good for business, and especially since customers have begun paying for the seagull's stolen bags of Doritos because they think it's so funny. However, the manager did say, 'This is New Jersey , and if that seagull starts to grab a 6-pack of 'Bud' to go along with the Doritos, I may have to put a stop to it.'

A Common Occurance

Hello All! I found myself kidnapped again yesterday. My friend pointed out that this is something that seems to happen to me on a regular basis.

I had a job interview yesterday, so my aunt took me. Afterwards we went over to my cousin's new house to help him move. Helping him move turned into us spending the night and me being stranded without a computer. It wasn't all bad though. I was able to see more of LA and reinforce my blossoming love for this city. I saw some of the mansions of Beverly Hills and the view of city from Mulholland Drive. This place is so beautiful.

It always takes me a while to get over the "I made a mistake and never should have moved" phase. After yesterday, I can say that that phase has passed.