I am not like you

November 17, 2019 by Dixie Perkinson in life

I haven’t pruned in awhile. I was in New York with my family visiting my cousin before he graduates from college. Feeling proud of him and sorry for my dumb-ass. Why didn’t I graduate from college? I went to DePaul University Theatre School in Chicago and didn’t get invited back after my second year due to its arbitrary cut system. It’s not like I did anything wrong, other than apparently sucking at acting. Or was there another reason? Thinking about it, I was definitely not the worst actor in my class. Some of those students partied a ton and didn’t know how to act, yet still got invited back. So what was it? I never got any answers from them, but deep down I always thought my school didn’t want me because of who I was deep down…a misfit/loner/weirdo.

No More Korn

September 08, 2019 by Dixie Perkinson in life

I hate getting older. I hate everything about it. The slow metabolism, the wrinkles, the added cellulite, the loss of hopes and dreams. But what’s the alternative? Death? Um…no thanks. I’ll take failure with a side of bingo arms.

Middle Finger Up

June 12, 2019 by Dixie Perkinson in life, thoughts

I’ve been wanting to cut my hair short now for years. However, I feared I wasn’t able to make such a drastic change due to my mediocre acting career. Sure, famous people dye and cut their hair all the time, but could I? What will my agents think? Do I need to ask them for permission? I don’t want to confuse the casting directors. They get flustered so easily. Actors are a dime a dozen. Don’t make it difficult. Also, I didn’t feel skinny enough, pretty enough or young enough to pull it off. Even a couple of days before my hair appointment, a male acquaintance said, “No, don’t! Women aren’t attractive with short hair.” Thanks for your unrequested input, asshole. I did it, anyway.

The Dark Side of Fertility...Muahaha!

January 12, 2019 by Dixie Perkinson in life

Oh hey. Happy New Year. We’re all getting older. Our metabolisms are slowing down. It’s getting harder and harder to lose weight every year. Plus, we’re one day closer to death. Cheers!

That Time My Dad Got Arrested (Part 2)

October 21, 2018 by Dixie Perkinson in personal narrative

I stood there. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, as I was watched my father, slouched over in handcuffs, being taken away by two police officers above from my bedroom window. The cops were both a head shorter than my dad, even with his incriminating posture. My dad was quite militant about our postures. Shoulders up. Chest out. But I guess, at this moment, it wasn’t important to stand up straight. They escorted him down our hardened gravel driveway into one of the seven police cars along our house. An older, overweight officer was readily standing there. He opened up the back seat door, and guided him inside. My dad did not glance up to my window to look for me, to tell me that everything was going to be okay with a nod or a reassuring squint. Rather his head was down. His face seemed tight with anger. The fat officer closed the car door. Then they drove off. And just like that my dad was gone…

Falling

October 14, 2018 by Dixie Perkinson in life

I’m taking a break this week from writing about my childhood woes because I want to get current. I know I’m choosing to do so, but hot damn it’s hard to face your past head on in a public platform.

The Bone (Part 3)

August 26, 2018 by Dixie Perkinson in personal narrative

I inadvertently felt protected by going home with this stranger. My hand clasped in his, my safety too. We walked less than a minute to his funky place, but cool/funky since it was in the Marigny Section of the French Quarter where all the artists lived. The Bone pulled out a key to unlock his white wooden gate. And then I remembered, I made out with a boy who lived upstairs. We went to high school together.

First Day of Middle School

August 15, 2017 by Dixie Perkinson in personal narrative

6th grade didn’t started off that well. On the first day of school my best friend, Amy, wanted to try out the brand new zip line that our school had built over the summer, and I most certainly did not. It was a metal zip line that was probably only 15 feet long and 7 feet high. In order to “zip,” you had to grab the handle and jump off a platform that then would propel you swiftly to the other side. I was afraid of heights, even little ones. I hated anything fast that I couldn’t control. But most discernibly, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold my own weight. My upper body strength was pretty grim. What can I say? I wasn’t the energetic sporty type. In fact, during free time, I was more of the hide out in the shrubs while daydreaming of a different life type. Amy, on the other hand, was athletic and exceedingly social with boys. I would describe Amy as a slutty tomboy if that makes any sense. She wore jean shorts, never dresses, and she must have gotten her period over the summer because she had a rack-attack going on. She confidently was aware of it too. I on the other hand, while I had received my period over the summer as well, was still wearing a white training bra. I had definitely gotten hairier and smellier though. I, too, was aware of my bodily changes but they had made me quite insecure. I wished I had Amy’s confidence or cup size.