Everytime I sign in to write I really have no idea what is going to get put on the page. I just try to be and let the words flow. I dragged my behind out of bed and stumbled to my local cafe, toting my computer, I am now one of those people that writes at a coffee shop. I have to say, I'm kinda the worst person to wait on. The servers here wander around aimlessly and I just want take their apron and do their job. I'd probably make about 150, this lunch shift and I could do it with my eyes closed. I better drink some more of my coffee and stop being so judgey, they are trying.
I live in a Hasidic Jewish neighborhood and I am always amazed at these young girls with 4 kids trailing behind them. My street is chock full of beautiful families and they seem to have an inherent joy, something to be said for tradition. In the back of my mind I always wondered if I would be one of those traditional people. For a brief moment, I thought maybe I would marry my first love but life took us in different directions. When we were walking home from school one day, the owner of the local pizza shop asked him if he wanted a job. He was really smart and a promising athlete in school. He dropped out and took the job. He still works there. When I go home I always think about going to that pizza shop but I chicken out. I don't want to see what time has done to him.
I had a brief Hollywood marriage once, it lasted a little over a year. It was very unglamorous. One of those things where it was over before it began. When I talked to my Catholic priest about it, he asked me if I was married in the church, I said no. "Great, then it wasn't valid, you are free to remarry." I'll take that. Pretend like it never happened. That works for me. I always thought it never really counted anyway, there wasn't any unity or husband, wife like behavior. We got together and made a ton of cash, that was the extent of it. He was a shmuck, I left and the rest is history. It brought me to my knees though. Reboot my entire life. I wanted to leave Los Angeles, but I knew in the end that wouldn't make me happy so I moved to the Valley. That's kind of like moving away. It's a whole different ballgame.
When I left, I took my clothes and that's it. I slept on the floor for a year in a converted garage. One day, my only friend that survived the bomb that went off in my life, told her husband that I didn't have a bed. The next day there was a brand new one propped up against my door. I started crying and that's when the healing began, for the first time in a long time I felt cared for. From that point on I slowly started to venture out into society, usually to my friends couch where I would eventually collapse in tears. At one point she looked at me from her computer and said "just cry" and I did, I just wept it all out of my system. My agent started sending me on auditions and guess what, I started booking. I booked a huge modeling job that took me to New York, it was fabulous and I was getting stronger and stronger everyday.
I remember the first time I laughed. I was working for a director and his wife. Me and the housekeeper had become friends and she was helping me tie plexiglass to the bottom of the gates. They had just gotten a puppy and didn't want it to escape. It was a tedious job and it was pouring rain out. She saw me fumbling and poked her head out, "You need help." "Yes, please." I said. We attempted to tie these plastic pieces and it wasn't working, finally they came crashing down into the puddle in the driveway. We erupted in laughter, crying giggles as we stood there in the rain. She looked at me and said "this is good, you're laughing , you're getting better." Sometimes I needed others to point out that I was moving forward because it was very hard for me to see.
So now I sit and write at this coffee shop, the food isn't very good and I complain about the service, but at least I have a voice again. There is lots of traffic on Beverly Blvd. now and I am eyeing my favorite boutique across the street. I want a new dress but I have to pay for the shuttle to the airport tonight so that's a big fat no. I gotta figure out what to do with this writing, I'm thinking about a screenwriting class at UCLA, I've always wanted to take one. Maybe my words will unlock my future. I remember Bruce Springsteen said ones that his "writing was his key to the world".
I've got my key, now I just have to find the right door.
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