Birds Eye View

I grew up in a smallish town and always daydreamed.  I fantasized about becoming a movie star like Lana Turner or Marilyn Monroe.  My colorful thoughts fed my courage and I wounded up 3000 miles away from my family.  I set my sights on the stars and everything that sparkled with it and I managed to land on a nice sturdy cloud.  It's still fabulous, I've done it my way so far and the cloud is like my favorite pillow sometimes I get lost in it probably still dreaming about the stars.  My life as of late has been filled with magical twists and turns and I met my fairy godmother, she's lives in Malibu.  In fact I have met a lot of women recently that really inspire me.  They lift me with their life story, experience and wisdom.  It's refreshing and forcing me to be all that I can be.  I know that sounds cheesy but living in a big city you encounter all walks of life and to quote Mama bear I have chosen to associate with a few that weren't of my "ilk".  Mom's are always protective and of course they all want the best for their children but the way I swallow her judgement and regurgitate it as the following, "it's just hard to find like minded creative, supportive people, ones that want to take a turn watering the plant and don't have to be the one's getting all the water all the time."  I've been the thirsty one before and it's not always fun.  Now, I feel like I'm swimming in blue gatorade.

I've been caring for three dogs lately.  They are my Christmas companions.  I sit with them on the couch next to the tree with white lights listening to music and I have to tell you there isn't anywhere else I would rather be.  It is peaceful.  I am still.  Gearing up for 2012.  Sometimes you have to do the solo act thing for a while until you re-cast the ensemble players.  There is a knowing in it, if you really listen, you figure out which way to go.  Like the birds in the sky that fly south in the wintertime, you can learn to do that with your thoughts.  Close your eyes, let them fly, elevate, go to places like I did as a little girl with the stars and when you open them  you're exactly where you should be.

Fallen First Love

I grew up near a park that was near a library.  The park had a gazebo it was a forest green color.  You had to be careful inside of it because the the wood was rotting and the floor boards creaked when you walked on them.  It was surrounded by copious amounts of pine trees and it was set in the shade, the smell was divine.  When I sat on the ledge I felt fancy and romantic.  I think of it now and it feels cool and safe.  It was my childhood and it shaped me.

The first boy that ever held my hand went to my Catholic school.  He ran track, played baseball, basketball and looked like Matt Damon.  We used to take the same route home from school and he would say naughty things as he walked behind me.  He scared and infuriated me so one day I marched into the principals office and tattletaled.  The principal was a nun and her name was Sister Mildred she always wore navy blue and her office smelled because she sat there and passed gas all day long.  As I spewed verbatim what he said to me she huffed and puffed and at one point I thought her head would spin all the way around and I would burst into flames for repeating such things reserved for the dark.

After ratting him out, Mr. Bad Boy changed his tune and I would catch him stealing glances at me.  When I caught him he would smile.  He was a grade ahead and all the girls liked him.  House parties were becoming popular and they all wanted him there.  He threatened not to attend their soirees if I wasn't invited, needless to say I  got lots of invitations.  The parties were chock full of punch and Journey tunes and it was where I discovered how to slow dance.  With my arms wrapped around Bad Boy's neck our hormones raged and we would have epic make out sessions.  The kisses would last three or four songs and Steve Perry singing "Who's Cryin Now" was our favorite because it went on and on.

One day when we were walking home we took a detour and ended up heading toward the gazebo.  As I stepped up into it he grabbed my hand.  I let him keep it.  He walked me to the center and turned me toward him.  He asked me to be his girl, my insides tickled and I buried my head in his chest and managed to squeak out a yes.  I felt so grown up.  I held his hand for the next five years and fell more and more in love with him.  We were going to save ourselves for marriage.  He was a gentleman.  He set the bar for me and I have yet to come close.  When I think of him, I am grateful that I was able to share my love that way.  It has happened once for me so far, some people never get the chance and well...some people settle. 

It ended tragically of course.  He got into drugs and alcohol and at the ripe old age of 16 I found myself on one end of my rotary phone talking to a counselor and trying to get him a bed in a State rehab.  I grew up fast,  I learned to mother and the love I knew disappeared in the blink of an eye.  I felt my breath leave and I gulped air.  I had lost him and lost what we had together, it changed me just like the gazebo in the park.  A family friend saw him on the bus recently, he was missing teeth.  I stopped her from telling me more I didn't want to imagine him that way.

When you have gone down a path like that all of the shenanigans that silly men pull just seem like an annoyance. (Like the time a boyfriend of mine pointed out a Paris Hilton look a like and said "I could never afford a girl like that" suddenly I felt like I came off the discount rack.  What an idiot he was !).  They end up being like a fly that you can't get rid of.  Their slights and jabs are pretty much amateur hour because no one can come close to that heavy weight ring.  You end up with these fleas because of a feeble attempt to recreate the magic you found once upon a time.  Once Upon A Time always has a The End.  

I have started to make the best of the chapters in between.  They have taken me to places stored in the back of my memory and some I have never been.  I always like to start a new book.  I can't wait to find out what's inside.  

I end up by the sea shore turning to the first page.

Once Upon A Time....

Shade Inc.

I had a therapist tell me once, "this behavior has become your new normal," and by behavior she meant the "what about me, it's all about me" mentality of those I chose to surround myself with.  When you are in the trenches of Hollywood it's like going into battle.  You must put on mental and emotional armor to protect the sacred gift that brought you here in the first place, your talent and with talent comes sensitivity and that's the chink in the armor that needs to be tweaked.  A friend said to me the other day, "don't be a victim of your own character traits", I pondered for a minute and thought about how I actually tried to become less sensitive which did nothing but made me feel like there was something wrong with me.  The key is to wear my sensitivity like my favorite dress only on special occasions around a chosen few.  Otherwise the unanswered calls, broken promises, backhanded compliments and blatant disregard make up too heavy of a cross to bear for this girl who wandered off from the flock and carries her dreams in a pouch.

Now the Mama of that flock made sure to put a tag on my wing AND with her newly discovered text messaging skills can stalk me to find out the latest on Demi and Ashton.  Yep, it's true.  In between my ten jobs and building my empire I will get various missed calls, start to panic, rush to call her back only to be asked "so what's going on in Hollywood?"  And according to her there are three levels of Hollywood: Douchebag/Cheeseball Hollywood, Working Actor Hollywood, and Elite Hollywood.  I have been peddling my wares for quite some time now and it gets to the point where one wonders "will it all pay off?"  There have been many a day where I have hung my head trying to rearrange my strategy, reinvent my outlook and crack the code only to feel like, NO in this business hard work does NOT matter.  I have seen both men and women marry or date for money, fame, position, and stability.  I have seen con artists at their finest getting whatever they want by being super charming and making you feel like the only person in the room.  They reap tremendous material rewards, drive fast cars, wear expensive shoes and get 500 dollar highlights.  And they are the most miserable people I have ever met in my life.  Now I am no saint, I have hung out with a person or two and gone to a swag gifting suite when everything about it felt wrong.  It was shiny and exciting but it was also vapid.  The common denominator in all of this glitz and glamour is the lack of love.  There is no love, no self respect, no integrity.

I choose love, always have and this sometimes makes life difficult because it can be a very lonely path especially when surrounded by the walking wounded.  In the early days of my stint here in Hollywood I sat on the sidelines and cheered for the wrong team.  They were people that didn't deserve it or were too broken to appreciate it. (I picked them, I know, I know.) The success they achieved was always fleeting and temporary.  It wasn't real, it was an illusion based on the lies they were telling to get what they wanted.  When you witness this, it sorta scrambles your brain and  you have to swim to shore without a life jacket.  You learn your lesson and never again go into those murky waters without it.  There have been too many close calls.

Getting back to my Mama's breakdown of Hollywood.  A strange phenomenon has occurred.  I have been catapulted into the realm of Elite Hollywood.  It feels like nothing short of a miracle and just when I thought I toiled in vain, I got out of my own way and stood at the front line of my hard work.  The little girl that used to dance to the opening credits of Happy Days on Tuesday nights wants to shout from the mountaintops and tell you everything.  Who, where, how, what.  But I can't.  It took me so long to get here and it's too precious.  It is the beginning of all the years gelling together and the cement forming between the blocks.  When you breathe this rare air, your word means something and kindness is a virtue.  Making the right choice and being on time are normal.  There are no takers only givers and the love flows abundantly all the way to the ocean view. When I look back I quickly whip my head around to move forward.  I will never go back there.  It's like when you meet a really sweet guy who opens your door and recognizes your intelligence, suddenly the out of work poet is no longer appealing and the people concerned with being cool and going to right parties are a snooze fest.

Yet they are coming, the phone is ringing and there is a manic interest in my whereabouts.  Its just so obvious that I cringe and wonder in horror if when I was hanging on by a thread, did I ever exhibit such ghastly manners?!

So I will remember my manners and practice proper phone etiquette when the "can't be bothered's" ring me to exchange pseudo pleasantries.  It is usually a precursor for wanting something and it is a personality trait of those grappling to "make it" without any respect for the art of it all.  They will be greeted with the following, courtesy of my favorite Ruelism:
"Thank you for calling Shade Inc.  Please hold................................................................ forever.
Goodbye!"