When I was in middle school, I got it into my head that I wanted to be an actress. Movies would be fine, but I really wanted to be on a sitcom, something similar to Boy Meets World or 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter. I liked how both the actors themselves and the characters they played seemed so down-to-earth and I decided that was my new career path. An annoying, younger brother type on the show named Simon would be the icing on the cake -- just write it into my contract -- because what sitcom doesn't have that?

I grew up in northern New Jersey, not very far from New York City. This gave my parents ample opportunities to research acting schools in that area, and before I knew it, they found one that wasn't outrageously expensive that I could attend on the weekends. It was important to them that acting school didn't take away from my 'normal' education, even though I was convinced at this point that I would soon just have a tutor on set.

My introduction to acting school began with attending an informational seminar about what we could (and couldn't) expect from this school, what their expectations of us were, and other various acting and media information that boggled my 13 year old mind. I just wanted to graduate and start my sitcom. Where was the sense of excitement? The hustle and bustle I associated with Hollywood? It felt more like a stuffy presentation by a guest speaker at my middle school that no one cared about.

After sitting through their informational meeting, they had us a memorize a short commercial and recite it for them so they could see our 'acting.' The products and topics we were given depended on our age, and I was lumped in with the group that got to talk about how much we "Love Skippy Peanut Butter!' Not very earth-shattering stuff, but I guess it wasn't absolutely horrendous because they said I had 'potential' and recommended a few courses for me to take. I honestly think my 'potential' was more about what my parents had in their wallet and were willing to shell out for these classes, but hey, I was in.

My very first course was an introduction to improvisation if memory serves and my first class was taught by a member of The Platters. He was very nice and professional, but by our second class, we were informed he would no longer be our teacher and was replaced by a young, good-looking guy from Australia. This made going to my classes pretty hard, as I was already a shy kid and acting in front of cute guy made it even worse. Thankfully, I wasn't the only girl who thought he was pretty dreamy and to his credit, he seemed pretty used to it and wasn't phased in the slightest.

I remember enjoying the class and learning a few cool things, but overall I don't think it was worth the money my parents paid. In all honesty, this class was on par with the acting class I took at my local recreation center in my hometown. My dreams of becoming a big Hollywood star -- an acting prodigy if you will -- were starting to fizzle. I urged my parents to do more, find something else, whatever it took for me to become a star. I mean, I already had a whole new wardrobe I wore to school, much to the confusion of my friends, who couldn't understand why I was getting so dressed up for school. 'Well, I go to acting school now, so...' was my usual answer, whatever that was supposed to mean.

My persistent urging soon led my parents to sign my brother and I up with a talent agency in Long Island. She was a well-known agent apparently and had more than a few child stars under her belt. I remember my mom picking my brother and I up early from school one day to go and meet the agent. She needed to see us in person before she signed us. I remember being terrified and that terror only escalated when I heard her tell a girl that was in her office before us that she would need to get the tiny, minuscule, nearly invisible scar on her head fixed with plastic surgery if she wanted to succeed in this business. When the girl walked out, she couldn't have been more than 16 and I was beginning to rethink my Hollywood aspirations.

I can't really remember what the agent told me, but I remember meeting with many more professionals over the next two years -- including other agents and photographers to get head shots -- and none of them were very nice. I was too short to model, my blue eyeshadow was dated, my hair too frizzy, I dressed too grown-up for my age, I dressed too young for my age. Everyone and everything contradicted everyone and everything else; it was exhausting and not very good for my self-esteem as I was just entering my teenage years.

I took one more course after that first improv class and it was even more frustrating than the first. There was only one other girl and one other boy besides me taking the class. The boy left after two classes and the girl was older than me and more interested in the modeling classes the school offered. The teacher didn't seem very professional and more than once he made me uncomfortable because of the creepy way he talked to the older girl in the class with me. I'll never forget the last day of class; both the older girl and I recited our monologues for the umpteenth time and the teacher actually dozed off in his chair. I think he was hungover, but I'm not 100 percent sure. I just remember being sad and disappointed and realizing that even though my diploma left the room with me, my desire to become an actress didn't.

If you hadn't already guessed, I didn't become famous and get my own sitcom. The only parts I got were a blink- and-you-miss-it scene in Sex and the City where you can only tell it's me because of my mane of curly hair, a small extra role in the movie Bad Company and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and an awkward photo shoot of me eating a bean burrito that was supposed to be in a health textbook (I have no idea if it ever made it in there and honestly never really made an effort to find out). In fact, my brother, who never attended the 'prestigious' acting school I did, got more extra roles in movies and TV shows than I did.

Those small roles I got weren't very exciting either; you usually spent four or more hours in a 'holding' room with other extras, had to re-do the scene you were in countless times until the director was happy, and most of the actors and actresses weren't that friendly. The most exciting thing that ever happened to me was changing in a limo before they were about to start filming a scene for Sex and the City and maybe bumping into Kate Winslet in between takes of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Honestly, it could have been a stunt double, I'm not even sure.

After the disappointing acting classes ended, I decided that pursuing acting wasn't for me. While I didn't really learn much from the lackluster teachers and poor material the acting school used, I learned something much more important: I honestly didn't even really enjoy acting. It was repetitive and boring, and the best part about my classes was getting to go to NYC on the weekend. I'm glad I figured that out before my parents spent even more money on classes that I was never going to put to any use. After all, I had already decided at that point that the world needed another paranormal investigator and could my parents please buy me an electromagnetic field detector?

We'll save that story for another day.