I grew up overnight on that day, Dec. 27, 2007.
I go from being hugely hopeful and entertaining to. . . really not. I'm not manic depressive, but I can really go to the darker side.
I think I'm under the radar enough where I don't think I'm typecast as anything yet, so I'm pretty free and clear.
It's a sleepy, wonderful, idyllic town but there's a curse on it from 100 years ago,. . . The people who died in this kind of boating accident have come back to take their revenge.
I can't afford security. I can't afford a gated house. So, I feel a little vulnerable. I wish some laws would come into play.
I remember the audition process for Xena: Warrior Princess; I was driving there and I was listening to The Cranberries' "Dreams," so I was thinking of that audition again recently with the sudden passing of Dolores O'Riordan, Cranberries singer. And I remember that song, I was like, "Okay, I can do anything" as I was driving onto the lot at Universal.
I do turn down things that I feel aren't right for me, like when it's some kind of adolescent thing that might typecast me, but I'm not worried about it.
The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.
I try to write my own music. It's a good way of de-stressing.
I don't think I've actually drunk a beer for 15 years, except a few Guinnesses in Dublin, where it's the law.
Our Sheffield and London homes are worth well over a million but the bank owns most of them - we are mortgaged up to the gills.