What I learned in 2016 is...

WHAT I LEARNED IN 2016 IS... IS... IS IIIIIIISSSS

Man, what a year, right? It's sucked, a lot. So much. But thinking back, I'm pretty sure I said that at the end of 2014 too, and 2015. Maybe as far back as 2012 and 2013, but I tend to not think about those years too hard. But the point is, was this year any worse, really?

Me thinking about 2016

And like, yeah, kinda. It really sucked. I mean, we lost Bowie, PRINCE, Carrie Fisher, Alan Rickman, Leonard Cohen. George Michael, on Christmas of all days, the day when he is most significant. The day after we lost Carrie Fisher, her mother, Debbie Reynolds passed away. Gene Wilder! For fuck's sake we lost Gene Wilder! Like, how do you continue. And not to mention all the other shit that happened this year, Brexit, Trump, countless shootings, I don't really want to go on, you were there, you know what happened and who we lost.

But I'm not content to just wallow in the filth of this year, I want to pull something from this year, I want to make it better, maybe just for me, but maybe for you too.

WHAT I LEARNED IN 2016 IS:

Carrie Fisher taught me to be proud of my mental illness, and advocate for myself. She taught me that I can still kick ass and kill space slugs while struggling with inner demons. Most importantly she taught me that I can go out on a high note, such as revealing I had sex with Harrison Ford and then blissing out like a champ.

David Bowie taught me there's no right way to be a man, and there is no right way to be proud of my body. He taught me that makeup can still be just as masculine as a beard. He taught me that being beautiful doesn't make my dick any smaller. 

Alan Rickman taught me it's never too late to chase my dreams. Alan Rickman's first film was at age 41! And that was Die Hard as Hans Gruber. How badass is that? To not be in a film until you're 40 and then be one of the most iconic movie villains of all time. It's never to late to start doing what you're passionate about, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Gene Wilder taught me how important it is to make people laugh. And how strong of a tool comedy could be, Gene Wilder died my first day in Boston, and I resolved myself to make more people laugh, in the absence that he created.

Leonard Cohen taught me that it's okay to be beautiful, poetic, and even sappy, as long as there is sincerity behind it. What has made songs like Hallelujah, Chelsea Hotel No. 2, Anthem, and countless other Cohen songs so immortal is the sincerity behind them, and to have that sincerity in my own life.

Donald Trump taught me that what I do is important. Haha, no, not with anything he's ever said or done. But with the fact that people need to work and stop him. People need to call him out, and fight against him. Speak out. And as a writer, as an actor, as a person with a fucking soul, I can do that.

In 2016, I learned where I am meant to be, the type of people I'm supposed to surround myself with, the things I am meant to be doing, and who I want to be.

2016 wasn't a banner year for me. I hit some of my lowest points, I did some pretty terrible and lousy things, but you know what? You fucking no what? None of this "New Year, New Me" Thing. I want to just be a better me. There are people who love me, so I shouldn't become a new person and risk losing them, what I need to do is become a better me, to thank them for being loyal and standing by my side. For being with me, I should be better, not just for them, but for me. Because I have to live with me, and I plan on living with me for a long ass time.

I want to better myself, in honor of those we lost, for the people who love and stand by me, and most importantly, for myself. I think I've said that a lot on the 80 something posts I've made on this blog, and I mean it every damn time. Just know that I am always working to better myself. I am always trying to be a better me and make better choices. 2016 may not showcase that perfectly, but know if I hurt you this year, I am deeply sorry. I am, and I will do anything I can to make that better in 2017. 

My New Year's Resolution is just to be a better dude. Be someone that would be missed if I suddenly and tragically perished in 2017. I want to do justice to all my friends and family, who love me, even though I am a problematic mess, know that I am your problematic mess. 

I learned this year that I'm allowed to be a work in progress, I learned that I don't have to be perfect, but I can try and be better. I'm only 18, I'm not meant to be a complete human being yet, and the best thing I can do for myself is to love myself and to keep trying to be better, and to forgive myself.

I am lucky enough to have so many strong and supportive role models in my day to day life. Good men who are caring and loving and strong. And powerful women, who teach me to love myself and others. I am lucky to love and be loved back. And I will continue to do so until the day I die. 

Thank you for reading, everyone. It means so much, everytime.

Happy New Year.

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

Die Snake, Die

When I was a boy, I remember going looking for snakes and other reptiles with my father. My father is a man who vastly enjoys finding and protecting reptiles and amphibians. I was never the enthusiast, I've always been more of an indoors kid anyway, but there was something always deeply unsettling to me about snakes. And this discomfort would well up every time I was around them.

But I wasn't afraid.

I couldn't be afraid. 

How could I be afraid of something my father so clearly loved?

 So I would hold the snakes and I would search for the snakes. The hunt for the snakes continued, even with my apprehension.

Now I could never tell my dad that I was uncomfortable, he loved snakes. I didn't want to dissapoint him. And I wanted to love snakes too, even though every time I saw one I suddenly became deeply uncomfortable. And I was a scared kid, heights, new food, breaking rules, other people, girls, boys, being late, being wrong. But not of snakes, no, never of snakes.

As I grew up two things happened, I got over a lot of my fears: I rode zip lines high above the ground, ate new foods, broke countless rules, met new people, dated girls, kissed boys, I became a very late person, I spend a lot of my time being wrong, I stopped being so afraid. The second thing that happened, was I saw way less snakes.

I still was afraid of things, needles, spiders, death, but everyone has phobias.

But not as many as before. And I wasn't was not in no way afraid of snakes.

As I grew older I would find my own interests, new interests, and not accompany my father on his snake hunts.

Do you ever go a long time without really thinking about things? 

For instance, as a writer who lives in Boston, snakes aren't a big priority on my mind. And so it was a really long time before I ever thought about snakes. I would think about grades, I would think about boys, and girls, I would think about rock music, I would think about how Michael Bublé is just the straight man's Rufus Wainright. I would think about new stories, but not snakes, and I didn't have to, again, I live in a city. The closest thing I see to a snake is a rat's tail when I'm on the train too late at night. So snakes never grazed my mind, and I never had to think about my totally-non-existent-fear-of snakes-that-I-was-in-no-way-afraid-of.

But one day we had to give presentations in my speech class, and a girl Ana gave a speech on why snakes shouldn't be killed as much as they are and feared as much as they are.

And I began to panic, and feel fear.

Holy shit: I'm afraid of snakes.

I've spent my whole life ignoring the fact that I am fucking terrified of snakes. 

And it's not my dad's fault, I just wanted to impress him, but holy shit snakes make me so afraid and uncomfortable.

And I know what you're thinking. "No shit Bailey, you're afraid of snakes. Why am I reading this?"

But hold with me, I promise there is a point here.

And it fucked with me, it rattled me (pun intended) because I have been able to repress for so long that the idea that snakes terrify me out of sheer stubbornness, and how long we're able to lie to ourselves and put off self-confrontation. And it also shook me that I felt so ashamed suddenly that I was afraid of snakes. I'd watch my younger siblings go after them with such zeal and I'd always move too slow to catch them. I'd always be caught off guard, I'd always jump- just a little. But I'd never admit I was afraid. 

Now repression is nothing new to this blog, I talked about it last year with my David Bowie post and the tale of losing my virginity. But this isn't trauma, this is just me lying to myself for so many years, and for what point? Did I feel that this is where I needed to be manly? Is this what I needed to be masculine about? Why? I've never been the most masculine of people, so why is it that I still felt the need to be masculine then? Why did I feel the need at that moment to be false and strong?

Masculinity, specifically toxic masculinity has been something I've railed against for such a long time. This idea that men can't and aren't allowed to express emotions without being labeled as weak or wimpy has been such a disgusting idea to me for so long. And there are so many things that "men aren't allowed to do" It's so weird to people that I want to learn to knit, or I think there are better songs for women in musical theater for women. I like Ke$ha and Taylor Swift, I cry, a lot. I love clothes shopping, I like talking about how I feel. I think that traditional men's clothing should be more interesting like women's clothing. As a cis-male I have three choices in underwear style. I couldn't even name all of the cis-female underwear styles. I love Gilmore Girls and rom-coms. 

But I'm still sometimes trapped in this box of not being able to self-express. Even with all my fucking forward thinking and free will I still get caught up in toxic masculinity. I'm at times really afraid to tell people how I feel, or be vulnerable. Sometimes I'm afraid to be affectionate.

For instance I have a friend who I kinda had a falling out with, who I really want to reconnect with, but I'm so afraid of the vulnerability in asking to talk again and hanging out, that I still haven't done it. I have hard times telling my parents things (like the fact I have a new girlfriend, surprise!) And I shouldn't, I don't want to live trapped by this fear of expression and vulnerability. 

The fist time the idea of being a feminist was introduced to me was when I was a junior in high school, and I realized that it was something for me too. Being a feminist not only meant fighting for women's equality, but also against toxic masculinity. It meant I don't have to fit into any sort of strict category to be considered a "man." And that was a really important lesson to me.

Being in Boston made me a little freer from that fear, because people are so expressive and accepting and varied there. It's not like back in Newfield where I was called "faggot" for the one time I talked about liking "Love Actually." And that's not even a super feminine thing! Love Actually is just a really good movie. And I liked penis long before I saw that movie. But I digress, I'm freer in Boston than I was at home, but I'm still not totally free. I still struggle with the things I've been taught in society.

I struggle with opening up at times, and talking about my feelings when there are consequences to how I feel. For instance, in class we could be looking at a picture of a man and I could go, "That man is hot!" But if I sat next to a man I found attractive I'd have a much harder time telling him. When you add stakes to feelings, then I'm shit out of luck. I don't want to be like that anymore. If I can ride ziplines nearly a mile long or cliff dive or risk my life with little worry, I should be able to tell people how I feel. And I'll start now:

 Dad, I'm afraid of snakes. I always have been, I'm sorry

I guess what I'm saying is that the expectations of others, be it my father expecting me to be okay with snakes, or society expecting men to be tough and emotionless, is a toxic cycle. If the snake represents the idea of masculinity in this drawn out metaphor, then sorry Ana, and I'm sorry dad, but I say:

Die snake, Die.

<3

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

(In no way do I endorse the actual killing of real snakes)

All in all, You're Just Another Brick in the Wall

I was going to put the blog on hiatus, work on other projects, and take some time for myself, but now is not the time for that. I want to, I need to say something.

Those of you who are friends with me on social media have seen me talking about it all night/day. But I feel the need to just write this, even if it's just for myself. Even if this helps not a single person other than myself, I will write it.

This is an incredibly frightening time, I cried this morning for my sister. A young girl in a conservative town who is gay. And I'm sorry Cam if I'm not supposed to talk about it, but I'm doing it right now. I cried this morning thinking about her, and the world she now lives in. The people who would oppose her now have had their vileness reaffirmed. But I so desperately pray we go past that. We don't do that. But we see the wrongness that has been exposed in our country, that we as people, not, as a government or as parties, but we as a collective people can join together and make this world a better, kinder, and more accepting place to live.

I know that Donald Trump is a symbol of everything that frightens and hurts so many people I love, and myself. But I promise you are not alone. I promise you deeply, from the bottom of my heart, you are not alone.

I've seen people I idolize crumble in the face of this new world we live in. I talked to my father as if one of us were dying. I watched Stephen Colbert lose the will to make jokes and light of this situation. I felt myself be swallowed by hopelessness as the numbers rolled in. And even when I finally went to bed 12 hours ago at around 3:30, I saw that Donald Trump had won, and I didn't believe it. I hoped that if I went to bed I could wake up in a slightly new reality, that the moment where I read the words was a dream, brought on by the stress of the night, but it was not. And as I awoke the next morning, that was confirmed.

Now I am not here to spread hate, or anger. I refuse to hate the people I know who voted for what they believe in. I can't do that. And maybe that comes from a place of privilege and if so I am so sorry, I do not mean to perpetuate that. What I want to perpetuate is love, and understanding and forgiveness. I've watched hell erupt on Earth the last 24 hours. I woke up yesterday having a panic attack about the election. And I refuse to push that on to others.

I can't promise everything will be okay, and I refuse to send out empty promises. But I know that I still believe that this isn't over yet. The race maybe over, but the world, it is not. We will persist. We will move on, we will fucking survive. We will find love and compassion. We will protect the people we love, we will still find a way to be on the right side of history.

There will be people who want to come out as their true selves. As gay, or trans, or bi, or pan, or asexual, or anything else, and they are now in a society that has leaders who are against that. And I just need everyone to know who reads this, you are not alone. You are never alone, you will never be alone. There will always be someone to love and accept you, I promise. Even if you are now in a world that doesn't seem like it, I promise this hell will pass. This fucking hell will pass.

We can do better, America. This isn't who we are. This isn't what we stand for. I promise you that it is not. And I'm so sad, and sad isn't even the right word, I'm so disenchanted to see that this is who and what we have representing us as a nation, but I hold on to hope that we will be better, that we can be better. That this isn't over yet. Tomorrow the sun will rise, the sun will always rise, and one day, the sun will once more rise on a world that I can be proud of.

The city of Boston is quiet today, strangely quiet for this city. But the city is in mourning. Maybe we as a city aren't perfect, but this isn't fucking what we stand for. Maybe Hillary Clinton wasn't perfect, but that woman has been shit on too much by the American people to be as evil as she has been made out to be. I just can't believe it, maybe I'm wrong but I need to believe that there is good in her. Because the man in fucking charge is not a man I can find good in.

I believe in you America, you fucked up, but this isn't who you have to be. You can rise above this, you can be more than this. You can move past this and become the ideal you so tightly cling to. You can be a haven and a utopia for all peoples. I believe in the greater good, and the basic good in all people. And after last night, that's hard. But I believe we're more than this. As a country, as a people, I believe despite our differences, we can be more than this.

I believe in a better tomorrow, I want you to know, whoever is reading this, that I believe it will be okay, and that someday, we will be able to look back and be proud of who we were and what we did when the world went to shit.

I don't have the answers, but I do have hope. And for now, that will have to suffice.

I love you America, you let me down but I still love you.

You're more than this.

Fuck Hate.

Love.

Stay strong

<3

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

The Bisexual Agenda

I've been debating how to write this post for the last six months, but I feel maybe it's finally time seeing as it is national coming out day.

For those of you who have missed the memo, I'm bisexual.

I know, crazy. The guy with 18 exes is also into dudes, and that's hard to swallow (heh) but bear with me, and I'll tell you my tale.

I started questioning my sexuality the November of my junior year. And I told two people, and then spent the greater part of a year trying to repress it. I'd make jokes about how hot the Avengers were, but for the most part, I was unable to come to terms with my sexuality. It took a lot of alcohol (ahh, underaged drinking) and a willing gay friend on a warm summer night for me to finally come to terms with something I had been battling for a year. I was overjoyed, and very drunk. I texted my two best friends and I told my girlfriend.

She was less enthused.

Not that she wasn't supportive, but it's hard to hear that your boyfriend got drunk and kissed a dude. I'm sorry about that.

But it was nice to finally be able to come to terms with a part of myself that I had been in turmoil over for a long time. But then there was the challenge of coming out. Something that frightened me to no end. I teased it on the blog a little,I told my friends, I told my sister, I told my new at the time girlfriend, I told my dad when he asked, he told my mom. Finally, December 28th, 2015 I came out on my blog. It was a hard thing to admit, because in my head, I was defined by my girlfriends. Coming out meant letting go of a part of me I had so long defined myself by. But I've been glad about it ever since.

At my graduation party I kissed a guy I had been flirting with for lord knows how long. But for thsoe of you who follow along at home, that was right after the big break up, and I was emotionally unstable. Too unstable at the time for a relationship. He was willing to hook up, and part of me really wanted to, but a larger part of me was afraid. I didn't want my first time with a guy to go like my first time with a girl, and end up hurting me. I didn't want to have it be a hook up, but I wasn't in the place for a relationship. And then I ended up in one anyway. Whoops.

A lot of my summer was me using my emotional instability as an excuse to hurt people, and I really regret that. But I've done my best to make amends, and I've finally said the things that I lacked the ability to say at the time, so I move past it.

Being bisexual is in itself a new problem. It's not really understood, and it's seen by some as a fad. It's seem by some as a phase. Some people try to quantify it or split it into being part straight and part gay. But it's not, it's being attracted to two genders. It's not part straight part gay, it's not a percentage, it's bisexual. I have a type for guys and a type for girls. And it's not something I want really commented on. It's a very personal subject that I'm still understanding myself. There's no real guidebook for being straight, and there is less of one for being bi. While that does not excuse the mistakes I've made, I hope it will give some people cause for patients and compassion.

I'm young, I'm still figuring it out.

I'm Bailey S. Fox, I'm 18 years old, and I'm bisexual and proud. Every day I wear my bracelet with the bi colors. I mourned the gay men shot in Orlando this summer. I mourn the gay men killed in the middle east. I am hurt every time more anti-lgbtq laws are passed. I am hurt when being bisexual is removed from lgtbq causes. I am hurt when tv shows can't admit characters are bi, or when being bi is a punchline.

Happy coming out day, everyone.

And for those of you reading who are still in the closet, you are loved. You are strong. Do not feel fear to be who you are, but do not feel shame for staying in the closet. Just know the people who truly love you, will always love you, no matter what.

Thank you for reading.

Love,
Bailey S. Fox

Boston, a Love Letter to Home.

It's been a while since I've posted, over a month actually. Whoops.

The intersection of my narcissism and my nostalgia can be found at the Facebook feature "On this day." And as I've gone back the last two or so week, I am constantly reminded of one fact:

This kid, wanted to fucking die. Not like edgy humor wanted to die, but regularly had thoughts that it might be better to just not exist.

And that's a really hard memory to come to terms with. It's one thing to kind of objectively talk about it, but to be reminded and to see photos reminding you how depressed and how much you screamed for love and attention on the internet it kind of disturbing. It upsets me in a very specific way. I'd run through the woods to try and free myself from this turmoil. I'd spend hundreds of dollars over the course of months to get out of the house because there was this manic frenzy in me that wouldn't let me stay home. I had to keep running, running from myself. And I tried to write it away, I tried to justify it. "I am a chaotic being. I thrive on change and movement. I find my rhythms in the live syncopation of the world." And that's still true, to an extent. But it was me trying to justify, trying to run from a deeper truth, I wasn't happy. And I tried to hard to be happy, and I'd never let myself get there. I was so afraid of other people, I was so bricked into my space into the wall that the idea of moving and perhaps collapsing the metaphorical wall paralyzed me with fear. So I ran, I ran from myself.

The whole year I kept running. I ruined a relationship because I couldn't be happy in the moment, I kept having to create a perfect future for us, and I pushed her away. Then I started another relationship that almost entirely existed in running away from the last one that had such a imagined future we barely knew ourselves in the present. I kept running, and kept overlooking my mistakes. I ran so much that weeks later entire things would come crashing down on me, I didn't fully break down from my second to last relationship until I was in my last one. And that was so stupid of me, I never would let myself stop long enough to feel. I kept running myself ragged. At one point I was so bad over the summer I worked myself until I literally collapsed from exhaustion. I was scaring myself, but I didn't know how to stop. I ran and I ran and I ran. And I kept trying to justify it to myself and to the world.

And that stemmed from this insecurity, this inability to be alone.

I would spend way too much time worried about what to wear, or how I looked, or how I sounded, or how I acted. There were so many layers between me and the world. And I preached emotional honesty and expression to my friends but I didn't even know how to open up to them for help. The help I needed. It would only come out in these breakdowns that were erratic. And this all was only a year ago. I wrote these posts about fear and my break up and my pain, only a year ago. And I spent so much of that time repeating my mistakes and hurting people. I've pushed away people who I love so much out of fear and impulsiveness and bad choices. And I've tried to right my wrongs, but people are still hurt, and people have that right to be hurt, because I fucked up. And here I am, for the upteenth time writing about it. And at one point, it doesn't matter what I write anymore, because I say the same shit.

So why am I doing it then?

Because in Boston, things are different. I wear my glasses regularly, most of the time now. Something I was too self conscious to do back home. I've worn outfits that would put last year's Bailey in a panic attack. I spend time around my friends in pajamas, which sounds banal but its something I couldn't do before. I'm taking active steps to produce my work. I'm sharing and talking about my writing, I'm auditioning for everything I can, I'm making new friends, I'm standing up for myself, I'm taking new risks, and I'm living in the moment. I'm expressing my feelings and taking steps to coexist with them, I'm trying to be a better person, I'm trying to be someone who stands up for himself and what he believes in. I'm trying to do all those things I kept swearing I would do. I'm going out and seeing the city, I'm chasing my dreams with ferocity, I'm failing with glory, I'm trying my hardest. I'm doing my best to make my family proud, but I'm doing it for me. I'm doing this because a year ago, that boy, screaming and sobbing hysterically in his father's car because he wanted to die. That boy who took a chance and stayed around and put himself out there, I'm doing this for him. I'm doing this so what I preach to my friends isn't empty rhetoric. I'm doing this so that boy who took a chance and decided to hold out a little longer, I'm doing this all so it was worth it.

I'm writing this and doing this for everyone who has doubted if it's worth it. Because a year ago I had nothing. I hated myself, I wanted to die, all my friendships were floundering. But I fixed them, I made new close friends, I met new people and let myself love and be loved and take risks, and I fucked up, so grandly, but I did it, and now I'm trying to do this right, I'm learning from my mistakes. I'm living my life and making the risk worth it. I'm trying to show people that the risk is worth it, because it does get better, it does improve, life is worth it.

I'm doing it for this kid.

Who would go home that night and cry himself to sleep.

I'm doing it for my family and for my friends who believed in me when I couldn't believe in me. For every fight and screaming match, I'm doing it for those. 

I'm doing this because that kid, would in just a short time meet so many people who would help him learn, and help him relearn, time and time again, that it was worth it. 

This post isn't me admonishing home, or praising Boston. Because Boston would not, could not, be what it is without all the lessons I learned from home, I had to do everything I did, and learn everything I did, and go through all that shit, for Boston to be able to be the amazing opportunity it is for me. My work and life in Boston, is a love letter to home.

I know this is a very personal post, and maybe even too personal for some, but I'm writing it so people know, that someone has gone through it, and come out the other end of it stronger and better for it. 

I'm doing it.

Thank you for reading.

I love you all.

It's worth it. Don't forget that.

<3

Bailey S. Fox

With Love.

I in my unyielding arrogance, I have decided to write a farewell letter, kind of like a farewell address, like a president, except I'm not president of anything, as Sara Barellies will sing you, I'm not king of anything either.

If you go back and examine my last four years you will see a long endless list of contradictions and mistakes and anxiety. Mostly anxiety. I want to say that I did my best, but I'll admit, there were many times I could have done better, I could have been better. There have been times I could have made different choices, ones that wouldn't have hurt me, or hurt others. And I regret not making those choices, because never once have I wished to hurt anyone. My only solace is that through the chaos I have created, I have come out happy, and intact, for that I am thankful. If you give monkeys eternity and typewriters they'll compose the complete works of Shakespeare, if you give me long enough, order too, shall arise from my chaos.

I can only hope that with time, people who care to remember me, will remember me fondly, I know this sounds more like a suicide note than me saying goodbye to my home, but to be frank with myself and everyone, I have no long term plans to return to Ithaca and Newfield, or even really New York. I've known this is not where I belong, and that's okay, I've made my peace with it. I've done the best and all that I can do with this home, and now it's time to move on to the next one. I'm thankful for everyone I have had the privilege to meet, you've all done so much for me, I'm not sure I can ever repay all of you.

To the adults I've met, thank you. Thank you for teaching me, thank you for guiding me. I wouldn't have made it this far without you.

To my friends, I know I haven't always been the best or the easiest, but you've helped me be the best me I can be. Thanks, team.

To people who I've hurt, I'm sorry, I hope one day you'll forgive me. I've tried to do all that I can do to make amends.

I look back on my time in Ithaca with pride, I know that if I could go back, I'd make new mistakes, and wanting to go back and change the past is dumb. All in all, I'm very happy with who I am and where I am as a person. I've done my best.

Someone once told me during an argument over whether Aaron Burr was a good person or not that it's a matter of perspective, and that I myself might be the villain in someone's story, which was a kinda shitty thing of them to say in retrospect, but I understand their point. I've done my best to be a good person, but I know that I have fallen short before. I acknowledge this, not in seeking pity or anything, but in hopes that I can in the future, in Boston, hold myself to a higher standard. And one day, look back, and know that I did my best, and I got it right.

What am I leaving behind in Newfield/Ithaca? I'm leaving my name on a plaque in the high school, I'm leaving behind friends, family, a dozen jobs, the streets I wandered, I'm leaving behind the stories people will tell of me, of Denny's and fallen slides. I'm leaving behind a younger sister and brother who will shine more brightly than I ever could here, and I'm proud to say that. I'm leaving behind a smattering of younger friends who I hope in some way, I have changed their lives for the better. It's hard to say what I have left behind. "Legacy, what is a legacy? Sowing seeds in a garden you will never see." I'm not sure how often I will return to home. I will return to cheer on my friends, the people I love.

I have learned to be at peace with my emotions, or at least the fact that I feel them. I have accepted the fact that I cry, I have accepted that I am quick to anger, I have accepted that I love hard, I have accepted that I am easily distracted, I am flighty, anxious, I have accepted that I love flower prints, I love hearts, I love. I accept that I love.

When all is said and done, I am proud of what I have done, because I did my best, and as I've been told, by best is enough.

So in conclusion, what's the point? The point is that I have loved. That is what I have to be proud of, I love. I love without fear, I love without question, I love. I try to tell the people I love that I love them. I'm so thankful for each person I have met, every interaction, everything. Every bit of my legacy I have left behind here, has been because of my love. My love of performing, of attention, of music, of people, of intimacy, of everything, of being alive. I'm so thankful for each moment I was permitted to exist, I wouldn't give any of them up. I was so privileged in my time here, I'm so thankful. Thank you. What made it all worth it, every tear, ever moment of pain, every angry moment, every anxiety attack, everything, was the love behind every damn moment.

The reason I am who I am is because I love. I will never apologize for that. I may not have always been right, but I have always loved.

Love is love is love is love is love is love is love.

Damn it.

My advice to everyone, is love more. Tell the people you love that you love them. Love everything, everyone, every moment you can. No amount of repeating it will ever make it mean less. Because love is not something that can go away, it's not something that has a finite supply, love can't stop, won't stop. Love.

Thank you to everyone who has ever loved me back.

Thank you to everyone who let me love them.

Thank you.

I'll make you all proud.

I promise,

I'll write again from Boston. Because even though this is goodbye, this is not the end of my story. This is just the beginning. I'm going to do everything I can, I'm going to change the damn world. I'm going to save the damn world.

Watch me.

Thank you for reading. <3

Love,
Bailey S. Fox

Love,

Happiness is

It's hard to say what happiness is, because it's really a concept. I can see a small child smile on the street and be happy for a moment, but on a larger scale, I could be miserable. From what popular culture taught me, it's either a warm gun or daytime and nighttime, there's a lot of conflicting messages.

I want to be happy, but being happy is a lot scarier than being sad. Because sadness can't be taken away from you. There's no mourning the passing of a sad time in your life. But when you're happy, happiness can be taken away from you. And happiness can be romanticized to the point of impossibility. If you look back on a lot of your good memories they do that thing like at the end of Inside Out where they're both sad and happy. Or any combination of emotions, really, but that doesn't flow into the narrative I'm trying to write into here, does it?

A huge theme of my summer has been happiness, and chasing it. From the breakup, to thinking I never wanted another relationship, to then accidentally going on a date, to a new relationship. From parties, to friends, to concerts, to work, to writing, to walking, to seeing Hamilton, to any other number of things I haven't written in this list. I've spend the summer, for the first time in my life, doing things for my own sake, and honestly it's been the best summer of my life.

I'm not bending over backwards to try and make someone else happy, I'm not in love with an idea, I'm not being miserable for the sake of it, I'm loving the people I love, and most importantly loving myself.

Happiness is a tricky thing, last night, I talked my best friend out of suicide.

And I'm happy that I did it.

I wasn't happy in the moment, I was stressed and afraid and there was so much at stake, but with the help of her other friend, her parents, and a few others, I helped ensure the world was able to benefit from my friend's continued existence. I helped ensure I was able to benefit from it as well. There was not a moment I regretted helping. There was nothing that I thought was too much, I never felt my friend a burden. Only a friend, my best friend, who I knew would do anything for me.

And I'm happy I did that, I love to help people, it's what I do. I'm almost always willing to help anyone, always, I hope that my writing helps people. I write for me, it helps me understand and deal with how I feel, but I always home that my writing helps others. I hope that they know that they're not alone in this world with how they feel. That somewhere, someone else is feeling what they feel. And that they feel better about this.

Another example of the mixed bag is me coming out as bisexual, on one hand I felt this huge wave of relief when I did, I felt like I was being honest with myself, finally. On the other hand, I was met with a lot of new questions from people, a lot of new expectations I didn't know how to deal with. A lot I didn't know, I still don't. But I'm happy I did it, the effort I go through is worth the satisfaction I have of knowing I can be honest with myself and people about who I am.

I want to make a difference, in the world. I want my words to change something, even just one person's life. To make it better. I want people to know that I love them.

Because you need to claim happiness for yourself, you need to give your permission to feel happy, you need to forgive yourself for being happy. You have to accept that it's scary, that you can lose it, but that's what makes it worth feeling and having, because nothing gold can stay, ponyboy. But who the hell wants anything less? Go chase your bliss, claim it. I believe in you.

And that's really easy for me to preach from behind my computer screen. It's easy for me to idealize it, like it's that easy. I know it's not, I honestly know it's not. When I get bad, I stop sleeping, I stay up late, I get up early, I skip meals. I run myself down, pushing my soul against a grinder, it's my way of hurting myself because I feel I don't deserve happiness, health, or safety. And I have to rely on my friends to pull me out of that, because I can't do it myself. I'm too afraid. Because again, I can have that happiness, but I might lose it.

But I think that's why I stayed with my ex when things went down hill, I thought it's what I deserved. I thought that was going to be the happiest I was allowed to get. My emotions were tied to her whims, it was a roller coaster. I was a yo-yo. What I learned that it's better to be miserable on your own accord than rely on another for your happiness. I hold no ill feelings against my ex, because she too deserves happiness, and if anything, we were making each other miserable. I hope she's doing well.

Anyway, back on subject, happiness is a slippery thing. And that's what makes it valuable, if we were able to be happy all the time, then it'd be much less worthwhile. Happiness is not a destination. You can't follow the treasure map, ecstasy does not mark the spot, happiness is something you always have to work for, and you're not always going to be happy, and that's okay. It's okay to not be happy, but you deserve happiness. You shouldn't appease others at the cost of yourself. Other people shouldn't be relying on you for their happiness, you make yourself happy, other people can worry about themselves. Love one another, do nice things for one another, but make yourself happy first and foremost.

I think we should all tell each other we love each other more. Tell the people you love that you love them, every second. Not even because it might be the last time you get to, but because you deserve to be honest with how you feel. And they deserve to know how you feel. Love, tell the world you love, wear your heart on your sleeve and be proud of it. Do not become hard in this shitty world, be vulnerable, be loving, because that is strength. Take chances, be stupid, be naive, be young, be virtuous, be late, be on time. Be whatever the hell makes you happy. The world will be a better place, you can make the world a better place, love.

Stay alive, do not just exist but live. The world is a beautiful place, you're a beautiful people, the world deserves you, and you deserve the world. It's worth it to be alive. I promise.

And

I need to claim happiness for myself, I need to give myself permission to feel happy, I need to forgive myself for being happy. I have to accept that it's scary, that I can lose it, but that's what makes it worth feeling and having, because nothing gold can stay, ponyboy. But who the hell wants anything less? I'll go chase my bliss, I'll claim it. I believe in me.

I am trying to be happy, every day.

I love you all,

Chase your bliss,

Love,

Bailey S. Fox

Being Alive

So I guess this post opens at the close (I've been rereading harry potter lately,) because last night, my (now) ex dumped me. (Don't worry this isn't going to be all about the break up, there's a larger point here.)

I have a lot of feelings about it, but also a larger understanding that it was for the best. We were quite literally about to head opposite directions in life, and in the end the strain would have ruined the longest and the most stable and happy relationship I've ever had. And so, she had both the brains and the balls to end it before it was ruined.

And it hurts, I'll tell you it hurts. I went to bed last night hoping I'd wake up and it was a dream. (Spoiler, unless this is a Christopher Nolan movie or an Episode of Doctor Who, it wasn't a dream) And so I woke up, and that was the reality in which I now lived. And I don't want to go into the break up, not really. She initiated it, it was a kind and peaceful break up, and I cried. I cried a lot. But it was good, I needed to, too often I bottle my emotions up and I don't let myself feel and then four years later I have to announce to my parents and the world I lost my virginity at 14 to a girl who cheated on me because it was still ruining my life. So I'm killing the hydra at its source and I'm talking about it now.

It hurt, it still hurts, 20 hours later. It will hurt tomorrow and likely for a while. I'm taking time off from dating, not because I think it's right but I'm emotionally incapable of dating right now. I'm being shitty to my friends because I feel incapable of making most decisions. I don't know what I want, I don't know what I need to ask for to ask for help. I don't know how to ask for help because I don't know what will help me.

Truthfully I want her back. But I know that won't fix things. I know that won't fix me.

I think people think I'm a lot more emotionally open than I am, but it's truthfully very hard to open up to people on an intimate level. Like and tell people how I feel. I can write this blog because no one who reads it is really going to attack me, or what have you. It's a safe space where I can express a certain level of emotional honesty without having to be intimate about it. If that makes any sense.

Anyway, part of a break up is people, (And thank you to everyone who has checked up on me, it means the world to me. I just honestly am at such a loss on what to ask for in terms of help. I don't know what I need and I don't know what to tell you.) asking how you are and how they can help. And like I just said. I don't know how to ask for help, I don't know what will help. Time, I guess. Time will help. Honestly despite all the people around me who love me, I feel very alone. Because the one girl who I wanted to be with the most, knew, and for the best, that we couldn't remain together.

And it's hard, because this was the first time, that I thought maybe, it wouldn't end. That she was who I was supposed to be with forever. And that wasn't the case. And while that's such a high school thing, it's still a thing I felt, and it was real and valid to me.

It's for the best, I know it is. I'm leaving, and I've wanted to leave my whole life and now I can, no strings attached. But what hurts most is when you wanted that string there.

I want everyone to know, that I will be okay. I know in my heart I will get past this, I just need time. I need time and to keep moving forward. And one day, I will wake up, and I will realize that I am over it, and the pain is gone. Because I'm sad, and the pain is there, but the pain is not my mood, it's just something I carry with me, I live my life continuing to do what I do every day, and I carry the hurt with me and I exist and I feel other emotions at the same time. And one day, I'll come back to ground zero, or maybe I'll find a new one. Maybe this is a reboot for me. Maybe like how in Archer they keep like "Rebooting" the series every season, that's just what's happening. I'm forced into new circumstances and I have to do what I always do and that's power through and kick ass.

It's not like last time, I'm not broken, I'm not suicidal, I'm not self destructive. I'm okay, I'm just sad, and in time I won't be sad. And until then I pray everyone has the patience to let me be sad. I don't need to be fixed. I just need people to love me and tolerate me until I'm back to the smartass we all know and love. I'll get there, just give me time.

I'm okay because I know part of love is opening yourself up completely and accepting the risk you'll be hurt. And I was hurt, but I wouldn't trade this pain for anything in the world. What I learned and what I now have, it's worth the pain. I learned, I grew, I like tea now, I can appreciate Shakespeare, I read Pride and Prejudice, I came out as bisexual. I learned to open up and surrender myself to one person. Someday, someday I will be able to do it again. All these things, they're worth the pain because in the end they made me a more interesting and better person. They made me who I am, and I'm happy with who I am. The pain will pass, this too shall pass, but me, I won't. I'm here for good.

I was told last night, this is a blessing in disguise, that this is for the best. Because this made me who I am, and while I hurt now, I get to present this new kickass Bailey to Boston, and change the whole damn world if I please.

For now, I'll keep writing, and I'll keep doing my best.

Thank you all for reading.

Thanks for being my therapist, internet.

I love you,

love,

Bailey S. Fox <3

(Now Ex, if you read this I'm sorry, I know you hate when I'd write about you, but this is how I cope and I needed this.)

Dreams like Ziggy and Legs Like a Sausage: A Examination of Self Image

On this blog I have often spoken of how I feel about myself emotionally, but I have yet to really go down the rabbit hole of my physical self image reflection. Mainly because I'm not sure anyone wants to hear another whiny white boy talk about issues that for the most part affect others more. There is way more pressure on women to look good than there is men, and I'm acknowledging that now. I do not dispute that at all, but right now I'm going to talk about my image issues, I am not a woman and therefore cannot speak for them. I can only speak for myself.

I've always admired the audacious styling of such rock stars such as David Bowie or Prince, but perhaps I feel I lack the physique, no one wants to see a 190 pound hairy kid wearing skin tight clothing. No one is fighting for me to wear less than I do already. No one wants me to wear less.

I only wear a certain type of jeans because it's the type I've decided makes my legs look the least misshapen and fat. I often adjust my sitting position to make my thighs look less large. I never look forward to swimming in mixed company because I'm afraid of what other people are going to think of how I look. I spend at least twenty minutes choosing an outfit trying to find one that I like in the morning. Clothes that perhaps yesterday I loved today make me feel frumpy and fat. I'm afraid every day people are going to find me fat and unappealing. Which is stupid, I have a girlfriend, I shouldn't care about what I look like, and yet I do. I agonize over it.

It's why I so often post pictures of myself. My vanity is a way of covering my crippling body image issues. I never dress down in public. A handful of people have ever seen me in sweatpants. I need the positive feedback on my looks to feel good looking.

My prom photos while wonderfully taken made me think I look like I've gained weight (which I probably have, I don't know) and I look awkward. There are old pictures of me more acne ridden than I am that if I saw today would probably cause me to break down crying. I'm so obsessed with how I look that it makes me late in the morning. I often go through three or four outfits until I can stand to go out. I have a long torso and shirts that fit me around often aren't long enough so if I raise my arms my hairy and chubby belly shows itself and often invokes some form of response, this response often makes me want to curl into a ball and die.

I want so badly to dress more outrageously, but there is this tightness in my chest that blossoms when I imagine people's responses. Clothes shopping with me is often an event or an ordeal as I constantly ask and crave feedback waffling back and forth on choices and I'm really probably annoying to shop with.

I once saw a video of me and the view of me from the side made me feel so bad I put in hourly reminders into my phone to fix my posture so I'd avoid looking less like an idiot. I doubt anyone cares how I look from the side but me, I'm sure no one but I care, but I am afraid that people do. And it kills me.

It feels like modern fashion is tailored for men with tiny waists and small thighs and dainty ankles. It feels like the only non mockable men on the beach are the ones who have flat stomachs. I can't dress in the trendy fashions, they don't come in my size, they don't fit my body. It's bullshit. But it's bullshit that paralyzes me with fear. So what's more ridiculous, the system or the boy who is trapped by it even if he knows it's bogus? I know people don't care that much, yet I still can't bring myself out of the shadow of my own god damn fears. It's painful as hell.

I'm not sure it will ever go away. I usually have to take my glasses off to talk to people because I'm afraid of how I look in them, even though I love them.

I'm afraid of how I look, I don't know if I'm ever going to be good enough to be an actor, I don't know if my skin will be smooth enough, my teeth white enough, my waist small enough. It's so much fear that I have, fear I don't know how to control.

Maybe I'll grow out of it. I don't know, I've had it as long as I can remember.

I didn't write this for pity, I didn't write this for compliments. I wrote this so that other people, people who struggle with this, boys, girls, everyone in between, anyone who struggles with this, knows they're not alone. And even I with all my crazy acts and stupid stories, I fear how I look. It drives me mad. Yet I persist, and so can you. I believe in you.

Thank you for reading.

I love you.

-Bailey S. Fox

Who is Bailey S. Fox; Redux

A year ago today I wrote a post aptly titled: Who is Bailey S. Fox? In preparation for this post I have not read that post. But, I feel it's time to write a new one, as it has been an action packed year.

A year ago when I wrote that post I was not yet a month into the relationship I was in at the time, I had just seen my all time favorite band, and well, I was a different person. I suppose it's redundant to say that between my 17th and 18th year on this rock orbiting the sun I have changed, change is inevitable really, but I think this is perhaps my most significant year of change.

I have often spoke of change, change in who I was, and if anything, 17 was a year of change. I had to answer for a lot of my actions. I couldn't hide behind anything anymore, I had to own up to who I was, and who I wanted to be. I spent a portion of it in the deepest depression I had ever actively known and in all honesty I encountered suicidal thoughts. It was a hard and trying time in my life, but thanks to those around me I saw my way through it.

I revealed my biggest secret to my parents and admitted that I lied to them about losing my virginity.

I had to deal with my worst break up. I had to learn to take care of myself, I found a work ethic, I wrote a script, I swallowed my pride, I started standing up for what I believe in, I came out as bisexual.

17 was a crazy year, and that wasn't even all of it.

So it begs the question: who the hell am I anymore?

And it almost seems a stupid question to ask, because the short answer is that I am Bailey Fox Olmstead, I live at 147 Horton Newfield New York, I am an 18 year old writer and actor and I plan on being those two things (As well as many other things) for the rest of my life.

I guess what I've discovered is this control over who I am and what I do, I finally feel happy with who I am on the whole, and sure I have my moments of self doubt as chronicled on this blog, but I really think that I've kind of (For the time being) gotten this whole me thing figured out.

So that raises a new question: what is the point of this blog?

I'm no longer constantly going through crisis after crisis, I've moved on from that point in my life, and I find myself trying to figure out the direction of the blog. It's been a close companion these three years, but 2016 has found a shocking absence of blog worthy events. I don't feel the need as often to sit at my desk and type "I am writer: read me roar"

I don't feel the need to constantly assert myself in the digital format. And I feel it is a time for a soft reboot of the blog, something more essay based, something sometimes less rant and more personal narrative. I'm not sure, perhaps in a month perhaps in six I will feel the need to jump back into the old flow, perhaps my life will fall to shit and I'll need to write all the time. I'm not sure, and so by no means is this the end of the blog. It's a soft reboot, you're going to see some new content on here starting soon. Perhaps some poems or short stories, I don't know. I'll figure it out.

I find myself at a different place in my life, and it's a different place than I thought I'd be at, there was a time where my role in the friend sphere was "Oh shit we had better call Bailey, he hasn't spoken to us in six hours, he's either dead or in trouble." But that's no longer the case. I'm taking care of myself and others. Now I'm the one making the texts and phone calls to see if my other friends are alright. I'm making sure everyone gets dinner and goes to bed at a reasonable hour. Most nights I'm asleep by ten. And it's weird not being the reckless one anymore. Not making people worry about me, I mean, I keep busy, working and writing, but at one point my life became less about who the next girl would be and where the next adventure would come from and more about making myself happy.

Now that's not to say that I don't go our seeking adventure at times, but if I'm in for a night, it's not the end of the world, and I'm perfectly content staying in and reading and writing.

Now this is by no means a "I'm better than you because I stay in and read while you go out and party" Because truthfully if you called me right now and invited me to a party this weekend I would love to go, I still love going out. But, if I don't go out I'm still perfectly happy. The point is that while I enjoy those situations they are not the source of joy. The joy comes from me, from my work, from my friends, from my loved ones, from my girlfriends. This is what drives me, I'm not just someone living for the weekends.

And I understand this isn't what works for everyone, and I want everyone to chase their bliss. Whatever fulfills you, do it. I'm not here how to tell anyone how to live, I'm not here to tell you that I'm better for my way, because someday I might wake up and realize that I'm wrong. Find what makes you happy, but understand that it might change, and always be willing to adapt.

I've fallen out of touch with many people, and that's alright. Because people come and go, and the people who I don't talk to as much, just know I still love you and think about you quite often. And I'd love to hear from you. And know it's okay to fall out of touch with people, we're busy and I'm shitty at texting.

I am a man made of many stories, but all my best stories have yet to be told. So I sit here, the man with heart shaped sunglasses, a happy man, and perhaps for the first time in writing this blog, I have become a fulfilled one. And I thank those around me for it. I thank the people in my life who love and support me. I thank you all for reading this. And I'd like to thank the weird assortment of various religious statues in my room for not cursing me. I'd also like to thank Harrison Ford for being dreamy. I'd like to thank my parents for making all the right mistakes to make me who I am, I'd like to thank the academy, I'd like to thank Chris Carter for creating a cool character for me to be named after, and I'd like to thank viewers like you. Chase your bliss, I love you all.

<3

-Bailey S. Fox

The Odyssey of Bailey S. Fox

Hey Guys, it's been awhile.

And truthfully it's because I haven't known what to say, not really. Truthfully I thought about ending the blog, worrying it had outlasted its use and was past it's prime. But as you'll learn with this story you'll learn my knee-jerk reaction isn't always right.

I've been incredibly busy the last month, I did a show, and then another, saw Caitlin do a show, and Now I'm in between show weekends, with two more performances to come. After this I have a brief respite of time before my next show starts.

Caitlin and I had been very busy, and as it happens we hadn't seen each other outside a theater for more than a month, and it was starting to take its toll. And things had gotten harder, and as my knee-jerk reaction is when things get emotionally harder I got prepared to do my classic move, to grow emotionally inert and distant so that way when she dumped me it wouldn't hurt as much, you know, that old chestnut. To let everything fall apart, because trying to keep things together opens me up more emotionally and then if it goes wrong I get more hurt. It's easier to be a bastard.

And so there I was in bed, 12:30 in the afternoon, my first day off in weeks and I was ready to watch it all crash and burn if need be.

By one o'clock I decided I couldn't do it.

I couldn't let it all fall apart.

I couldn't be the bastard.

Not anymore.

I gave too much of a damn.

Fantastic, so what the hell was I gonna do about it?

I Googled the time from my house to the bus station, because I could take a bus to up by Caitlin's house. I could show up, no big presents, no cheesy lines, just me. I wasn't going to hide behind some kind of show, I was going to go on my own volition on my own two legs and hope it was enough.

Google maps told me it was 7.68 miles from my house to the station.

2 hours and 38 minutes.

That was doable.

By 1:05 I was belting songs in the shower.

By 1:30 I was on the road.

I had my leather jacket that I really only wore cause it made me feel cool.

I had my heart shaped sunglasses for a very similar reason.

I had music in my ears and a giddiness in my heart that had been lacking for some time.

The moment I came up with the idea and saw the length of time I knew in my gut that it was the right thing to do, I just knew, I had no question in my mind this was the right choice. This girl was worth the walk, this relationship was worth the risk of heartbreak.

I set off calling into my house that I was leaving and the Odyssey began.

I know I had my end goal in mind but it wasn't really tangible, like I didn't know if I thought I 'd actually make it. I didn't know what to think, not really. I just knew I had to keep going forward and what happens would happen. I had all and no control at the same time. It was liberating. I was going under my own power. I had no one to answer to, Caitlin had no idea I was coming. I just went, I went for me, this was something I had to do for me, not for anyone else. I mean, yes I went to make things right with Caitlin and continue to put in the work necessary for a relationship to function, but I went for me. If any of that makes sense. This was for my own peace of mind and to better myself. I could have banked on waiting and hoping I'd see Caitlin soon enough and everything would still be alright. But I had the means and the motive and legs be damned, I went.

It was overcast, it wasn't pretty out, yet it felt perfect. I took this picture about two miles into my exodus.

There was something serene about it all, spring had not yet come yet the winds were mild and the day was pleasant enough. I couldn't overstate how ecstatic I was. After this bend in the curve pictured above it was literally just all downhill from there I just had to make it. Something like 3 miles in I grew dehydrated, it would take me until 4 miles to get to a subway where I purchased a water. Between that and the beginnings of my dehydration several people I knew stopped and asked if I wanted a ride, and while a ride would have been logical I had the desire to do it myself. I had the need to do it myself, so ignoring the queer looks they gave me as I politely refused the ride I kept on foraging ahead. While two hours and thirty eight minutes is a considerable amount of time, it never felt too long. I felt like I was going at a perfect pace, I had no stress to arrive anywhere on time. I still felt in my gut that this was the right choice.

Around 4:16 I made it to the bus station, I had made good time, only a few behind the projected arrival time. And I made it in time to catch the 4:28 bus up to the mall and on the final leg of my trip. Now this was the tricky part of my trip as I had to finesse out if Caitlin was home or not and if she wasn't when she was, so I took refuge in a strip mall about two or three miles from her house. A place I could find wifi and an outlet to charge my phone. And I found just that. I was still optimistic, and as I walked into a bakery the song "Someone to Watch Over Me" by George Gershwin was playing. Now that may seem insignificant but that song was featured in the first show we ever acted in together and it was the way we met, so I was really feeling this whole thing. I hunkered down in the back and waited to hear from Caitlin. 

After 20 minutes I heard on of her favorite songs come on the radio, and I'm not exaggerating as I went to text her this she responded. She was doing laundry, assuming she was at home I ran out and began the last leg of my journey. But she didn't know how long she was going to be doing laundry before she went off to go to the store. So fearing that I'd miss my chance if I didn't fess up, I admitted the whole thing to her. To which she told me that she was in the laundry mat in the strip mall I had just ran out of, and spent the last twenty minutes.

It's funny how impulsiveness works out. On one hand it had led me to that strip mall, on the other it had run me out. And I had to run back.

But hey, it all worked out. 

She really appreciated the effort.

It was nice to see her again.

It was worth the walk.

My phone tells me all in all I walked 8.3 miles that day, which isn't THAT much but it's still a significant amount. I walked across a town and a city to get to her, that counts for something.

My father and friends were very supportive of the escapade, saying they were proud of me for making the effort and my dad admitted he would have done the same at my age.

There was a profound sense of fulfillment I found in my adventure, having done something for me and having it go well.

Someone asked what I had learned in my adventure, and I learned that sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the people you love, but if they love you just as much it won't seem like a sacrifice. I learned that I have to do more things for me than just buy myself food. That life is better when you're an active participant and don't let the raging sea of the universe and fate throw you about. And that sometimes it's worth risking hurt because giving a damn is always more rewarding than being a miserable bastard.

Not to exaggerate but it was kinda life changing.

It was a good day.

My legs hurt like a mother though.

Thank you for reading.

I love you all.

Stay golden <3

I linked it above but if you were wondering some of the music I filled the 2 hours 38 minutes with I made a playlist, the rest of the time was filled with podcasts or even silence.

Take care of yourself, you deserve it.

And take a chance and find someone worth giving a damn about and walking 8.3 miles for,

It's the best thing in the world.

Yours,

Bailey S. Fox <3

P.S.

I forgot to mention that Caitlin's mom is in NYC and while there found Han Solo and Princess Leia M&M's and she got them for Caitlin and I respectively which is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me and really just the best show of outside faith in our relationship.

Just You Wait

Today I'm talking about Hamilton: An American Musical.

This has been one of the biggest things in my life as of late, and I feel I should tell my tale of.
I remember the first time I heard of it. I was opening Buffalo Wild Wings listening to my favorite podcast, My Brother, My Brother, and Me.

You know who else is a big MBMBaM fan?

Lin Manuel Miranda.

And he was a guest, and it came up on the podcast, I was so excited. He was so cool on the podcast, so humble and real. Human, he gave me the courage I needed to launch myself back into the world of acting and writing.

To tell you the truth I was considering quitting. My last show had been Fiddler on the Roof, and it hadn't been the best for me. I felt alienated by the cast. I screwed up a show. I felt talentless. There was this makeup girl who knew me before I knew her and she was not my biggest fan.

And had it not been for Lin Manuel Miranda's guest spot on MBMBaM I'd be in a different place right now. I wouldn't have been George Banks in Mary Poppins, or any subsequent role I had after. I wouldn't be close to any of the people I am now. I wouldn't have convinced that makeup girl that I was an alright guy.

So let's fastforward a year-ish. And Hamilton the Musical is released on Amazon. And I'll tell you, that changed my life right then and there.

Alexander Hamilton was a protagonist unlike anyone I had ever experienced.

He was flawed. He was afraid. Alexander Hamilton by way of Lin Manuel Miranda was this braggadocios man, an explosion of humanity. He wasn't some kind of invincible tower, he wasn't machoman. He was human, he felt, he cried, he loved, he feared. He was arrogant and argumentative. He was angry and heroic and brave and brash. He made mistakes and he shaped America. I suddenly found this courage within me that I didn't know lie there. 

I'm self-obsessed. I'm arrogant. I can be condescending, I can be over-reactive, I can be pretentious, long-winded, annoying, sappy, foolish, impulsive, alienating, I can be all kinds of things.
And Alexander Hamilton taught me that is okay.

That doesn't mean I can't be a hero, that doesn't mean I couldn't change the world, that doesn't mean I'm not a good man with potential to reach my dreams.

Alexander Hamilton taught me my words were something to be proud of, a tool, a weapon, a power, not some second-rate sissy ability that I had because I'm lousy at athletics.

There is this righteous passion, this conviction that Hamilton has as a character. And I don't think there is a better way to showcase this than in hip-hop. This isn't something you can just belt, this is a man who wrote more in half a life then most men wrote in a lifetime, you need the rapid-fire syncopation rhythms of hip-hop to do it. And sometimes it's traditional musical theater, but Hamilton really is something else entirely.

This might be less about the music and more about the ideas and what I learned. It's more personal than song by song, 46 songs are quite a lot to do a play by play on.
Hamilton possess this need to prove himself to everyone to the world.
"...this obnoxious, arrogant, loudmouth bother..."
I mean, that's me.

I have a lot of good ideas, and I am confident they're good ones. I'm flying by the seat of my pants. I'm making it up as I go along. I'm just doing my best and I'm here to change the whole damn world.
There are so many lessons I've learned from Hamilton.

Let's bring back the angry makeup girl who hated me.

Her ringtone is "My Shot" From Hamilton. 

Three months after I discovered this fact we'd stand in my driveway arguing over whether Aaron Burr was a good man or not. It would be one AM when this fight took place.

If you haven't picked up on this yet the angry makeup girl is Caitlin.

She argued, and the music proved that villains are a matter of perspective. Aaron Burr became "The villain in your (Hamilton's) Story"

And that changed my perspective on things a bit. Maybe the people I view as the villains in my life, as melodramatic as that sounds, are just people I have the wrong perspective on.

Reality is subjective, no one can really give you an unbiased account, we all remember our own stories in a biased point of view. And it's easy to argue that at many times Hamilton became the villain in other's stories, and perhaps I'm the villain in other's stories. You don't get to decide "Who lives, who dies, who tells you story."

There are so many times throughout Hamilton that I relate to it.

"Eliza, I don’t have a dollar to my name
An acre of land, a troop to command, a dollop of fame
All I have’s my honor, a tolerance for pain
A couple of college credits and my top-notch brain"

I'm not here to say that I'm the smartest, but I will admit and brag that I'm clever, and I work hard to gain knowledge and give myself the most information I can. I am broke as hell and I mean jack squat to the world right now. I have nothing to offer except the clothes on my back and my wits. 

But again it's that desire, that drive, that hunger for more. For fame, for notoriety, to change the world.
The hunger to make a difference, to make a wave, to matter. 

I am the speck screaming at the universe that I matter.

I have the arrogance to believe that I, Bailey Olmstead, a nobody from nowhere can change the world.

I have the arrogance to believe that I, Bailey Olmstead, will be more than I am, more than what I have, I can rise above status and situation and create something, maybe not a whole country, but I'll be damned if I go quietly into the night.

The worlds gonna know my name.

Just you wait.

There is a reason this has blown up in the way it has, because the message of the underdog is an American story, Hamilton is an American story.

I'm not the only one this musical has made feel the way it has, and that's the idea.
On July 20th I will be going to New York City to see Hamilton, and I can't wait for my life to change once more. 

I'm going to need a lot of tissues.

There is a picture online of the first time Lin Manuel Miranda performed Hamilton, all those years ago. When he said the now iconic words "My Name is Alexander Hamilton" They had to pause for laughter, it was so ridiculous to people. Sunday night they had to pause for the screaming applause.
"They will laugh, keep writing." Lin tweeted to a young aspiring writer.

That hit home.

That really did.

I've spent a lot of time as the butt end of a joke, but hey, My Name is Bailey Olmstead, I'm only 17 but my mind is older. And I think I can do this, I know I can do this. 

I'm going to change the world.

Just you wait.

Sincerely,

Not Quite 1001 American Nights

It's been 2 years, 12,000+ views, 70 posts, over 100,000 words, hundreds of bad puns, and the constant emotional support of you, my friends and audience who read these. Thank you all, now and forever. What on Earth could I write about after two years? Well, I'm here to write about the one thing, depending on who you ask, I'm either the foremost expert in, or the least qualified person to ask.

They say to be considered and expert on anything you have to be at it for 10,000 hours.

Which is why this week I'm talking about relationships.

I know what some of the older readers are going to say (Dad, I'm typing at you here.) But, I think I have as much right to talk about his as I have had every other topic, so let's get down to it.

In this blog I have written about many girlfriends, and had others through out the course of my existance, and it's weird to me to be someone who is defined by that fact. Because to me it makes up such a smaller portion of who I am, but if you've met me in the last 5 years most likely the first words out of your mouth would have been "oh, you dated Insert ex's name here." And there is legitimacy to that, I really have dated a lot of people, 17 if you go by the Trumansburg count. And that's something I'm more ashamed of that I let on a lot of the time, I'm not ashamed of the women I've dated, and I won't ever be, because regardless of the comentary and thoughts of others, at one point or another I really did have feelings for these women, healthy or not, and therefore I shouldn't be ashamed.

No one should make you feel ashamed for how you feel/felt.

And in these five years, 17 girls, and any other number of psuedo/almost/near miss relationships I've had, I've learned a lot. And that's what I'm here to talk about.

Date someone who makes you feel good about yourself.

Duh.

Right?

I feel like John Mulaney and I are the only two people who missed out on that memo, but I have date women who have made me hate myself, adn only in time and growth have I learned that. I guess since I hated myself and I thought I was a piece of shit I also assumed that the women I date were supposed to reinforce that thought. As the book Perks of Being a Wallflower  so rightfully said, we accept the love we think we deserve.

Just remember, you're better than that.

I'm better than that.

Don't date a cheater.

Duh.

Right?

Context.

But seriously, that is a concious choice, and if they made it before they're likely to make it again and while redemtion is possible, the odds certainly aren't in your favor.

Don't leave your friends for them.

If they ask you to choice them or your friends, choose your friends, your freinds aren't going to sleep with their ex boyfriend instead of seeing your concert and hearing your sweet ass solo.

Listen, you're going to be hurt in relationships, that's a given.

No one gets out of this world in one whole peice, but you can't let that screw up what you have now, I've been a closed off guy. I've walled myself up to the world and it's a miserable and lonely existance, the idea of becoming a jaded old man is really tempting, but you know what, if you ask me, I'd rather wear my heart on my sleeve than ever building more walls.

There are a lot of reasons to be with a person and marry them and everything.


I know that I am infact, not married and will not be for several years, that does not mean I haven't learned something about it.

There are a lot of reasons to spend the rest of your life with someone, but make sure for the love of god, make sure it isn't something that is going to change, because if that's the foundation and it crumbles, then it all goes to shit.

I throw myself into relationships, and sometimes, most of the time it's not to my advantage, but I also know that it's a lot harder to undo the walls than it is to repair the damage left by not having them in the first place. Over the years I constructed a me that wasn't me, and that's a werid thing to think about. And I sti here before you all and the me-est me I have ever been. I've left behind the fear, I've left behind the arrogance and the anger. I've left behind a lot, and I've lost a lot but I've gained so much that I'd give it up all over again to keep what I have.

It's okay to leave too through.

The only thing worse than a failed relationship is staying around too long. As most of you know I have lost myself many a time trying to save people who don't want to be saved. It's okay to leave. Please, especially if it's for your own good. No matter the residual guilt, it's alright to leave, this is the hardest lesson I've had to learn.

I've been with people because I was lonely, I've been with people because I was impulsive, I've been with people because I was horny, I know I'm hippocritical here, but I also have learned from my mistakes. I know it's easy to look at me and only see a serial dater, but I stand here, adn I will attest to the death that I cared about these people, every last one of them. And while I have had relationships notorious throughout the county I do not regret them because they have made me into who I am today, and I think I'm a good guy.

The girl I'm with, Caitlin (Hi cait!)

She's spectacular, and she's the whole world to me. And I  have to remember the lessons I've learned with her. Specifically not to be a pretentious dick. Relationships are a lot of work, and I've been doing my best not to let this one crumble into disrepair. And I think I've done a really good job, I think it's going really well. I know it is. It's the best I've ever known.

I think being in love is offering to give up everything you have to be with the person but being safe in knowing that you won't have to. I have that.

I also know that I am me with or without whatever S/O I have.

And it's hard, as someone with 16 exes who just came out as bisexual, because a lot of people (mom) have called me out and questioned me, because like, I've dated so many girls how on Earth can anyone be expected to believe I'm also attracted to men?

On the other had I fear that my guy friends think I'm hitting on them when I'm just trying to be nice, regardless of what genitalia I am into I'm a really nice guy.

I also think the most important thing I've gained is female friends that I don't want to date or sleep with or anything. Female friends who are jsut friends, like every other friend I have, and I think it's dumb that people say you can't have friends of the gender you are attracted to.

It's dumb.

Society is dumb.

The virginity construct is a dumb idea, but until as a society we all let it go, then we will never be free of the irreparable damage it can cause.

Look at this kid, that's me four years ago Monday, he is two weeks away from losing his virginity and changing his life forever. That kid is someone totally different from who I am now and it's insane to me to think that we're the same person.

Listen kid, keep your head up, you'll figure it out someday. Until then, keep writing. 

And listen a lot of you might have gone through something similar, some of you might not want relationships, and I get that. All of you are perfect, no matter what you prefer.

I'm still learning and I'm still making mistakes. But hey, I think there is something special about this one.

I love her, I really do. I think I got it right this time, I really do.

Thank you for two successful years, when I stared this I couldn't imagine this level of love, success, or readership, thank you all. You're all wonderful people!

Also happy Valentines Day!

See you next week!

Godspeed.

I love you all.

<3

Sincerely, 

Bailey S. Fox