When The Blind Horse Found me

I remember when the blind horse found me.  I stood in Malibu, overlooking the ocean  in the middle of a dirt corral.  There was a  woman with long hair to her waist , she told me to close my eyes.  "Just breathe and be still, don't grasp,  don't try, just let go." I remembered seeing a horse with blinders on, off in the far distance.  He had lost his eyes in a recent fire.  I stood there in the hot sun as the thoughts raced behind my eyelids.  "Do I chase after things, why do I care what they think?  I can't believe that person lies and cheats and lives in a beautiful house in the hills, why do good things happen for mean people, I really liked her shoes, I can't afford them,  I wonder if Ill ever buy a house,  I want that perfume, how did I ever like that guy, I was so lucky to know her, that homeless person's foot looked like it was going to fall off, I'll only ever eat pasta in Italy, I really love my new mattress,  that guy at Starbucks was a babe I wonder if he thought I was pretty, I need to change that low tire on my car, I want to go to NYC and see a play, "  And so on and so on. "I want to be better, why do i worry, I really miss him, she was a terrible friend why did I waste my time, I need to go to church, maybe I'll try the Buddhist temple, I want to lose ten pounds, I need to pay my power bill, I want to try that Thai spot in Silverlake, I want Michelle Obama arms"  I mean you get the gist.  I felt a breeze and a nudge on my right shoulder.  I opened my eyes. The sweet blind horse was rubbing my cheek with his.  My eyes filled with tears and I turned to pet him. He was gentle and kind and just wanted love.  Like all of us huh?  The woman with the long hair and and the cowboy boots smiled.  "you let him find you, good things will find you."  Despite myself and my thoughts, he found me.

White Basket, Cuban Melody

I once owned a white wicker basket.  It would hold my various lotions and potions that smelled of my favorite flowers and sweet berries.  How luxurious!  Little did I know the same white basket could be used to hold a small container of milk, orange juice, a hot meal in a tin and a small salad of carrots, cheese and Russian dressing.

As I held my basket of barely there nourishment, I rang the doorbell of a home that had chipped yellow paint.   Al answered the door.  He didn't have a nose.  Just an open sore with almost dried blood.  His eyes met mine.  "Good Morning." he said.  I tried not to stare.  My heart felt sore and I asked him how his day was going.  "I've seen better."  I handed him his one hot meal for the day and he smiled.  "Can't wait to see you tomorrow."  "Ok," I said, my eyes never leaving him until I backed up so far I almost fell off the stairs.

I turned to walk away and choked back my tears.  I opened the door to my chauffeured mini van and Carmen, the driver noticed my state.  "Cancer" she said.  I couldn't get the image of his face out of my brain.  "He has no family, he owns his house and the government will probably take it when he passes."  She put the car in drive and turned left, turning up the music, a melancholic Cuban ballad and we were off to our next client.  This was my first day volunteering at the Senior Center in Hollywood to work off a speeding ticket I didn't have the money to pay for.  If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.

The Chicken Line

I met Savannah Thomas at the corner of Hollywood Blvd. and El Centro.  He was a not so young black man that pulled up to the crosswalk on his blue bike.  He asked me if I had a Merry Christmas and I said "yes, how about you?"  Well, that was it, he walked with me 15 blocks and did not stop talking.  He moved to Los Angeles in 1981 from Savannah, Georgia.  He was a small time hustler who sold double A batteries and made a daily weed run to Skid Row.  "They know me down there so that's where I go for the deal."  The right side of his mouth was missing teeth and the ones on the left were brown.  I asked him where he lived.  He was homeless because of drugs.  "I'm a weed smoker and I smoke crack 4 times a year."  I wanted to believe him but I'm just not that naive anymore.

The streetlights popped on and it was around 6 o'clock.  He stopped me and made me look at him so he could tell me he liked talking to me.  He said my eyes were shiny and I had good hair.  "Why don't you meet me at the chicken line on Sunday at 4pm."  "The chicken line?" I asked.  He said some older white man got busted for laundering money, about 2 million and somehow got off by telling the judge he would give back to the community.  So every Sunday he feeds El Pollo Loco to hundreds of homeless people.  They line up in front of the YMCA in Hollywood.  Savannah said that I should definitely come because with my look I could probably get a job working the chicken line.   I told him I already had a job.  "You're a responsible one." he said.

We finally bid our goodbyes and I promised half heartedly that I would show up on Sunday.  Part of me really wanted to.  I was curious.  I turned toward my destination and my heart ached for him.  Drugs robbed him of his potential.  I wish I knew him when he first moved her and I could have been his friend and told him he was too good for the pipe but it got the best of him.  At least fate didn't get him like his cousin Terry T. who joined a gang and was in a shoot out at a high school in the Valley.  He survived but got life without parole.  Savannah had a deep sadness in his eyes when he told me.  "He made a choice and sacrificed his life for that choice."

I wonder if Savannah knows he has made a choice too.

Yelp I've fallen and I can't get up. Not.

Disclaimer: "Any resemblance to persons or places portrayed is just happenstance, yada, yada, yada"

I put the trusty ole apron back on, threw my hair up in a messy bun and kept it moving.   I mean I can practically wait on people with my eyes closed.  Which is what I mentally do anyway.  Dreaming  of sunshine and some house in the hills or maybe a trip to the Venice film festival.  Someday right?  There is always the hope of someday.

 This time wearing the apron is different, it's not like once upon a time in Hollywood when you worked with your friends and kvetched about your auditions or the cute new guy behind the bar.  Times are a changing.  Gone are the days of "hey, how was your day off?"  Now it's the dreaded earbuds cancelling one from humanity where hellos fall on voluntary deaf ears.  I refuse to wear the earbuds because I don't want to be part of the crowd.  It's my curse.  Never conform.  I like smiles and gossip and mutual dramatic complaint about the long hours and lousy tips.

And this dreaded Yelp, the villian in my story.  A big gelatinous hairy mole on the back side of society.  I pretty much know how you feel when you leave me 10.00 on 200.00.  Do you really have to go into some dark room and stare into a screen and spew venom about us being out of your effing favorite spaghetti and meatballs.  It's popular.  Get over it.  Maybe stand up straighter, iron your shirt and invest in some eye cream, it may make you smile more.  I'm not interested in your attention seeking opinion.  Nobody cares.  And if they do, they are pretty much a d*#k just like you.  Why not throw on an apron and a fit bit so you can make your 10,000 steps a day and smile for 6 hours all the while asking "any allergies?"  Take your vegan, (i'm a part time vegan, I love vegans, this all for dramatic effect) gluten free, allium (its a garlic and onion allergy, I had to look it up, God help me!) ass and your novel length Yelp review and stick it where the sun doesn't shine.  I mean really?  Have you been to a soup kitchen?  Or a homeless shelter?  People are suffering.  They don't have the luxury of time or a computer or an opinion for that matter.  All of these things are a privilege.  A privilege that you take for granted so you can get your jollies off by posting one star.   One star!  Gross.

I once worked for a chef in Los Angeles, he was world famous, a master top chef.  He told us "if I catch any of you reading Yelp, you are fired."  I loved it! A rebel.  My kind of guy.

Just give me the blue hairs.  Please.  The retired ones, that saved their pennies and learned some manners.  They look you in the eye and there is a sparkle, a kindness in their smile.  They ask how you are doing and compliment your effort.  Nothing is a "nightmare" or "I just can't".  It is all civilized and human and tied up in a pretty bow with a big fat tip.  And the biggest perk of all they have never even heard of Yelp.  "What is that?" they ask and are completely appalled by the answer.   "How rude!"  I agree.

Spilt Soda and Ex-Lovers

I love my street, I think I live on the prettiest street in Los Angeles.  Sycamore trees abound and I get drunk on the cool night blooming jasmine air.  Today I was trying to find a parking space, I turned the corner and there were four cruisers in front of my building. I slowed down to be nosy and I saw my neighbor talking to them.  A waiting Range Rover blew it's horn and the overly tan blonde frantically waved her hand for me to keep it moving.  I parked and went through the back door of my building and ran up the stairs right into two cops outside my neighbors door.  Drama.  I loved it. I think.  Their walkie talkies were squawking and they gave me the obligatory nod when my neighbor peeked his head around the corner.

"Oh my God, I'm so happy you weren't here."

I rested my hand on the railing and it was wet and sticky.  What the heck?!

"That's soda, I threw my soda at him." he said.

Him, being his ex-lover who overstayed his welcome after a serious bout with drugs.

"What happened?"

"He wouldn't leave, I had to get a restraining order against him and he flipped out so I called the cops."

I looked to the ground, it was wet and I didn't know what to say.

"You know, after everything he's done, I still feel bad that he is going to spend his birthday in jail."

"No, don't feel bad, that's co-dependent."  I had to stop myself from going into therapist mode but the look in his eyes wanted more of my words.

"You just have to rip the band-aid off and move on, time will make it better, at least that's what my mom says."

He looked like he was going to cry.

"He used to be so beautiful."

I thought about some of the beautiful ones that I used to know that went right when they were supposed to go left and now, not so beautiful too.

"I know it's hard, impossibly hard and you feel like you are going to feel this way forever but you wont, things are going to get better, I promise, you took care of yourself."

He smiled.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, I feel great, I just had a great audition, things are good."  Oh my gosh, how many times can I say good and great, I think I may have been rambling.  I just go into autopilot in these situations, this is where I shine, taking care of others and making sure they are ok and here in the midst of this man's chaos he asked me how I was doing.  I was thrown.

"When is that movie that you did going to come out?'

"I think soon, I'll let you know."

"Well thank you, thank you for listening."

"If you need anything, knock on my door."

I closed my door and my head was spinning, I'm sure his was too and I started to think about forgiveness.  I had a conversation with two people recently who had polar opposite opinions about it.  One said "it's a crock, you're giving the other person too much power."  And the other said, "it's a beautiful thing, you're whole world opens up when you forgive."

I recently received an email from an ex, who had asked me for forgiveness over the years and I just blocked it out, like it wasn't even an option.  I figured since all of this forgiveness talk was coming up, I would give it a whirl, this is an excerpt of his response:

I am sorry. I really am. I've never had the chance to really show it. I've tried to show it through the good I could do, even when you weren't around to witness, while I try to keep the bad that exists in me at bay. But time does heal... "One thing, I've learned about life... it goes on." - Robert Frost. I still have his book of his poems that you gave me. For almost 15 years it was one of the handful of books that I traveled with. And my mom kept just about every photo we ever had together in a trunk. I went through everything and relived everything. And to know that the most intense and reoccurring regret I've had for almost 20 years has come full circle gives me pause. Thank you.

I read it to one girlfriend and she cried and to another who said "so what."  This or that.  Yes or no.  Words, where are they when you need them.  I wipe my sticky hand and look out my window.  The cop cars are gone.

Flying Backward

When I was a kid I used to have flying dreams all of the time.  Gliding through the sky while my stomach flip flopped and right before I would go splat my eyes would open.  Sometimes life can make me feel like I'm flying backward.  I want that feeling of being high above it all, weightless, where nothing matters.  Because walking can just be so damn muddy.  Trudge, trudge, trudge.  So I just opt to fly as much as possible in the direction that I want to go in but sometimes I just do it backward like I am doing the backstroke in a pool.  I know there is a place that I want to be but I don't want to deal with what I have to pass to get there.  The agendas, the empty promises, the slick words and fake smiles I could do without but it's par for the course.  I prefer the moments when a friend grabs my phone and downloads a song then plops my headphones in my ears and says "this will help you along the way".  Then I listen to the song on repeat and repeat and repeat. I am grateful.  Grateful for the gems.  You have to mine for them though and the dirt messes up my hair and scuffs my boots.

I remember when I managed a horrible restaurant in Silverlake.  And as a sidenote restaurant management for an artist is like purgatory, absolute torture!  So I hired some of my really cute guy friends to tend bar and that made it bearable.  It was like I worked for a bunch of thugs and I had to constantly go up against them on a daily basis.  These people were the worst of the bunch.  Like characters I had read about in books but never met in person.  When I was a my wit's end with my head was spinning and I was questioning everything..why, why, why????? is this happening to me!?, I received one of the most eloquent and beautiful emails ever from one of my busboys.  Now regardless of what you believe in..God, Buddha, Jehovah, The Dollar or retail therapy...none of it mattered because he wrote from his truth and it struck mine.  Here's a bit: " God is not a father that cares about our earthly success, but that we try and in our journey grow closer to the things of him. Love, Joy, peace, forbearance, Kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control. (All fruits, I see being made ripe in you). That being said I have seen nothing but you doing the absolute best job that anyone could do in your shoes. Don't allow your fruits to be robbed."

Cue my jaw dropping. How could he see all that in me at a time when I felt so invisible? A gem. I had found another gem. And it didn't come from a director that I wanted to work with, a cute guy that I wanted to kiss, or some boss that I wanted to please. It came from someone and somewhere when I least expected it. This moment changed the game for me and I quit that lousy job and remembered what I was made of and where I came from. Virtues do mean something in this wild world. The right people will notice at the right time when you need it the most.

Flying backward is like kissing upside down or washing your hair in a bowl of spaghetti. It doesn't make sense, it feels funny but it gets you where you need to go. Keep moving.

River Birth

After a woman gives birth it is usually after a grueling amount of physical pain, blood, sweat and tears.  Well I gave birth minus the physical pain and the blood which quite frankly I'm happy to save for another day.  At the risk of sounding all earthy and new agey, I guess I could say that I gave birth to myself.  I did kick, scream and fight it tooth and nail which made it all the more hellish but I managed to find some mental doulas, mid-wives and the occasional cute mid-husband to help me plod along my journey out of the sandbox.  One aha moment I had as I held my head and slumped down amongst the rubble of my old ways is that I really like to be around people that get me.  I think part of my problem was I just kept picking the wrong pieces of my puzzle and we all know how that feels when we try to force anything where it doesn't belong.  I breathe and know that Buddha would be proud that I was finding the right pieces.
"Flow through things like the river, go around the rocks."
This is what a friend told me when we used to sneak into movie premieres in New York City.
"If they ask your name, just keep walking."
"Excuse me, what?"
"Don't make eye contact"
"I thought we had tickets?"
"Don't worry, don't talk and stay behind me."
And with that we walked past two burly security guards into Robert DeNiro's private screening room only to be chased by the events publicist.
"Excuse me, excuse me, are you on the list/"
At this point I felt like I was going to hyperventilate and me cheeks were burning.  My friend grabbed my hand and stopped.  He turned around and glared at the woman.
"We are IN the movie."
She stopped and apologized and with that we settled into our seats with the movie stars, front and center.

My party crasher friend got me, he knew I was capable of flowing like the river.  I often forget and still get smashed up against the occasional rock or swept out to sea but then I clasp my hands and pray to my guy upstairs and everything works itself out.
Flow.
Breathe.
Birth.
Happy.

Suddenly Selfish

I'm selfish and it's a good thing..for me anyway.  I have to try really hard to be selfish after a lifelong passion of being a big time people pleaser.  I'm stepping into this new found freedom and owning it.  Now anyone that has known me for a long time is probably jumping for joy at the thought of this because I did for others so much that I did indeed sacrifice my own well being.  I think we've all been there once or twice but I really did have a penchant for picking the takers and the anglers.  I played my part do not get me wrong, I was looking for friendship and love in all the wrong places whilst trying to fill that gaping hole otherwise known as the fatherless daughter madness.  After making the rounds on the therapy circuit, spiritual counsel and intense soul searching I have finally started to chip away at this comfortable pattern that I have developed along my life's journey.  Suddenly stability is hot.  Gone are the long elaborate excuses of why the broken promises, the social slights, the missed phone calls, the can't be bothered to ever take your feelings into consideration because I just have so much shit that I'm working on and blah blah blah.  It all starts to sound the same and it's name is whatever.  That dance is so yesterday and quite honestly I'd rather shop or take a nap.  Beauty sleep is much more glamorous than deciphering some lie.  Ladies and gents I am here to tell you, keep it moving, we all deserve the best.

The more selfish I have become (which really means finally having my own back, but I love to be dramatic and pretend I am soooo selfish that I can't be bothered but that's not really true, it's almost like I have to over shoot in order to get the result I want), the happier I have been. Sometimes it's daunting, the pull to the old ways.  It's like a tag that you forgot to cut out of your favorite shirt, eventually you just rip it off because it is so irritating.  It usually leaves some sort of tear but it's in the back so no one really sees it.

I plot my course alone with the big guy upstairs.  The busyness of it all provides excitement and slight anxiety.  I have never been one to plan my day by the hour yet this is what I have become.  I devour the time when the sun is out and schedule meetings at 7:30am.  This was unheard of six months ago.  I have always been a night owl, it's the natural rhythm of my body.  But this selfish season has inspired me to fight (kicking and screaming) to break some debilitating ways  Now my eyes open at the crack of dawn and I spring into action.... Tires changed and rotated by 8am, commercial audition, theatrical audition, work meeting, modeling job, long drive home and a birthday party.  Each day brings a new list of things to accomplish and I check them off one by one.
Life has started to happen and it was worth everything that I gave.... even to the takers. Ha!

Judy and Bernie

I drove out to the beach the other day and I always love the way I feel when I get to the end of the 10 freeway and it opens up to the ocean.  It makes the murkiness of Hollywood seem worth it and things suddenly become clear when I breathe the Malibu air.  My destination was Pepperdine, a beautiful sprawling campus that sits upon prime real estate where the privileged wrack their brains in their free time to get up out of Mommy and Daddy's grasp.  Everyone is good looking and has that sort of California slump to their posture.  They can't be bothered and they aren't.

I thought about my cold college days in Boston where I worked a full time job to get through my college experience.  I was always hustling.  I wouldn't know how to be like these kids.  I decided to adapt for the day and I found myself slouching and smiling more without a care in the world.  I made my way to the library where I was going to a lecture.  I was helping with the event, so I couldn't slouch too much (ha).  There were rows of folding chairs lined up and the room could fit about 75 people.  The windows in the room went floor to ceiling and naturally there was a view of the ocean.  Coming off of my 2 week juice fast, the cranberry ice tea was like crack and I gulped down two glasses before I even enjoyed it.  People slowly started to filter in and I realized there were lots of Hollywood heavyweights filling the seats, the ones that make the decisions.  I made fast friends with a young woman and secured my spot in a center row.  We exchanged small talk about the day.  I wondered if I would get antsy sitting through a lecture about the holocaust.  I had always been prone to checking out in an academic setting (that explains a lot!) and I suddenly dreaded sitting in the same spot for more than an hour.  There was a slight buzz in the air and then our guests of honor entered the space.  The air changed, it felt full with more weight.  Judy and Bernie had been married for over 40 years having escaped Dachau and Auschwitz respectively and meeting up years later in Munich where they  fell in love.

Judy spoke first.  She is 92 years old.  Bernie adores her still, I could tell by the way he looked at her, it warmed my heart.  She recounted the last time she saw her mother and father, it was on the train taking her to the camp.  Everyone was getting off the train and it was absolute chaos with the SS guards, pushing, prodding and shooting anyone that misstepped.  Judy was  14 years old and was put in a separate car from her parents.  Her mother was in a wheelchair and was with all the other "sickly" women.  Judy spoke in a low labored tone as she remembered turning around in the middle of the crowd and glimpsing her father, he wore glasses.  When she spotted him, she called to him and his glasses were knocked off of his face. She yelled. "Papa , your glasses, you can't see without them." As he  bent to pick them up someone had stepped on them.  That was the last time she ever saw her father, without his glasses.  Next, she heard her mother calling for her.  "Judy, where is your father?"  "He lost his glasses, he can't see without them." She answered.  And that was the last time she saw her mother.  You could hear a pin drop in the room.  It was sad beyond belief.  My eyes were swollen shut and I had so much snot coming out of my nose I had to use my hair to wipe it.  I didn't care, I was paralyzed and I couldn't move to get up and get a kleenex.  She shared her story for an hour and there wasn't a dry eye in the room.  In the end, Judy said she managed to go on and have a life, get married, have children and enjoy it.  I will never ever forget this woman.  She is remarkable.  Her strength is inspiring and meeting her just seemed to reset my whole being.  Anytime I start to feel sorry for myself  I will remember Judy.

Bernie was next and his approach was more comedic.  He recanted his tragedy like that of a stand up comedian.  It was just as prolific and brutal but Bernie stood before us so happy to be alive and happy to be in this free country.  He was a Nazi hunter and captured many former SS guards.  It was like he was the action star in his own movie.  This little old man that stood hunched over traveled across continents and looked his abusers right in the face and brought them to justice.  He is my new hero.  Bernie's life advice was "make decisions, work hard, be proud of this free country and date on the weekends."

I don't want to slouch anymore, I don't want to be like the spoiled California kids anymore.  I'm glad I froze in Boston and worked my ass off putting myself through school.  Working hard, standing up straight and making the right and wrong decisions led me to Malibu and led me to Judy and Bernie.  For this I am grateful.

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!"

T'is the Season

I'm sitting in a house on top of a hill that overlooks all of Los Angeles.  Millions of lights glisten and I think of all the windows of opportunity untapped.  What can I say, I'm a dreamer.  This mini villa is owned by a guy from my part of the country and my friend cares for it when he is out of town.  I have whipped up some organic tomato soup with brown rice and some canned green beans. Comfort food with a healthy edge.  The calm before the eating storm on Turkey day.  I could not be happier luxuriating with friends during the little down time that I have during this holiday season.  These pockets of time are like mini vacay's.  I wonder what Christmas will hold.  I have lived a life thus far where I don't think that far ahead.  Maybe I should start.

In the meantime, I am nestled with Academy screeners which are all the latest movies in the theaters right now.  Gosh I'm saving a lot of dough.  I will spend this Thanksgiving with friends and superheroes (literally) but you wouldn't believe me if I told you so I'll just keep it to myself.  I would fore go all of  it if I could blink and fly east to be with the family but Donald Trump I am not, so I will stay planted here amongst the palm trees and the ocean breeze.

Making new friends when you are older is like getting a big bouquet of flowers just because.  It is such a pleasant surprise.  I have two long running friendships in LA, we have been through everything, up and down and we made it.... still standing.  One of them said to me, "you have you're posse".  It's true I do.  Finally.  And there is always room for more, they just have to pass the test.

Through the Kitchen

I have a confession to make, I have been cheating on my blog with my play.  After three weeks of rehearsal and two performances under my belt I have passed the honeymoon phase and returned to my true love.  Oh how I have missed the click clacks of my keyboard.  I am glad to be back darling, thank you for understanding when I ventured out into "greener pastures" only to discover that you are all I ever needed.  You are funny, stable, supportive and just waiting on my ass to settle down.  I'm back baby and I promise I will work on my commitment issues.  Thank you for always being there.  Love me.

Now that THAT is out of the way I have been thinking a lot lately about the most thrilling times in my life.  They have almost always been when I entered an establishment through the kitchen.  That being said, it was usually because I wasn't invited to the super white hot party or club I was trying to get into.  Either way, my life has always been about the non-conventional ways of doing things and if I'm not invited to the party I most certainly will crash it.  At least that was philosophy in my twenties.  As I have "matured", I really don't want to be anywhere that I am not welcome.  What a concept?!?  I guess it's called being a grown up.

This phase in my life has been about getting my social mojo back.  I have been venturing out a lot lately and there have been a lot of serendipitous happenings.  The most exciting one to date was a chance encounter with a movie star who hugged me tightly and told me I was sweet.  I swear during our conversation I looked behind me to make sure he was most definitely talking to me and lo and behold he was.  My self esteem is usually two steps behind and out of all the women present his eyes found me.  I was in shock and still sort of am but if anything I know there is a shred of hope left in this tangled murky web that we have labeled romance.   It was a classic case of boy meets girl, boy fancies girl and girl fancies boy back.  Simple. Natural. Undeniable.  Before this unexpected encounter with movie star boy (and even if he wasn't a movie star, my chemicals would still be attracted to his, he reminded me of my first love) happened I was talking in my women's group about how I could care less about being in a relationship, how things are so different right now with the internet, facebook, twitter, distractions, distractions, distractions and that I had really lost touch with what actually turns me on.  I had rarely met any guy that did it for me and I had been resigned to a life of "well at least I loved so and so once" and maybe that's all I would get this go around.

It's like the heavens opened up and said "not so quickly my dear." My insides started to stretch and things woke up inside of me.  The way movie star boy looked for me in the room turned me on.  Can you believe it?  Neither could I!  Life can be so crazy.  I also liked the way he wore his basketball shorts and I wanted to run my fingers through his hair which was curly from sweat.  Another turn on!  But the biggest turn on of all was when he stood up from the table when I got up to leave.  What a gentleman.  He hugged me and I was like glue stuck to him and that's when he told me I was sweet.  Swoon.  (sorry if you're gagging right now, but in LA it's hard to find men with impeccable manners).  The only other time that has happened was when I met Paul Newman at the New York Film Critics Awards, (we snuck in through the kitchen and sat at Abel Ferrara's table) he stood up before he said hello and then when he introduced himself he turned to his wife and introduced her.  Classy.

I often default to bemoaning my fate and looking at the cup half empty and then something happens to snap me out of the doldrums.  Things are good and they are moving in the right direction.  Since I met my prince (wink) I have been meeting gentlemen left and right and they are adorable.  I met an aerodynamics engineer turned actor that looks like he was plucked from the middle of nowhere and deposited on the corner of La Brea and Beverly for my viewing pleasure.  jkjk.  But really... magical things happen when you wade through the water one step at a time even when you don't want to, you might just get rescued by an ex-rugby player with a southern drawl, yes aerodynamics engineer also plays rugby.
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I go through the front door now.  It's just easier, I can valet and not worry about getting mugged in the back alley by the kitchen.

May I Have This Dance

I remember back in the day when I first started going to a shrink.  I was trying to break up with some hapless boyfriend and I just didn't know how to do it.  Because of my "daddy issues", I had set up my life where I had  all of these characters and "friends" that needed me.  I was indispensable.  I got people jobs, set them up with their future husbands, provided shelter, food and even designer clothing.  One day when I was bemoaning my fate during a pro rated therapy session (I always manage to get some sort of deal), I went on and on about how hapless guy didn't want me to leave and how he told me how much I meant to him.
 "I felt validated when he 'expressed' himself to me and said how much he wanted me in his life."
 I told the shrink proudly, knowing that I must be having a breakthrough, someone wanted me around.
"That's because he needs you," the all knowing one replied.
"Well that's good isn't it?"
"You are getting your validation by being needed, that's not good."
I was stumped.  Here I had a guy pleading with me not to walk out the door, and it was a bad thing because he "needed" me.  The all knowing one said it wasn't based on love.  Needless to say I spent the next 10 years collecting people that needed me all because I had an absentee father or whatever.  These dots were way to heavy for me to connect and at the end of the day all I could do was pray.  It was like untangling electrical wires in a rainstorm, sometimes I felt like I was going to die.  My emotional valiance brought me to my knees one too many times until I finally gave up.  I opted for the bench.  I wasn't going to play that game anymore until I picked people who played by the rules.  I've been on the bench for quite some time and my bench is comfortable.  If I were to paint it I think it would look like a candy cane.  Sometimes I get up from the bench, it is brief, I learn my lesson and I sit right back down.  It is safe and it is where I should be for the time being.  I read lots of great books from my bench, I write, I watch amazing movies and I have the most outrageous visitors that sit next to me.  The most recent one was wild, he reminded me of my college boyfriend, a classic alcoholic, drug addict who charmed the pants off of most people.  I didn't budge from my bench, I let him come and go as he pleased and minded my own business. It was so much easier this time around dealing with someone like that.  I took care of myself and didn't worry about them self destructing.  I didn't coddle or care take and this is when I knew I had grown.  I was acting like a grown up woman, not a fatherless girl.

So the bench had been my breakthrough.  Tending to my side of the street and putting myself first.  No one was hurt and in fact we all had a great time.  I called up that shrink from yesteryear and shared the good news.
"Keep up the good work and don't maneuver your life to fit into someone else's who doesn't deserve it."
I thought about how I loved to dance.  Bending and turning and sculpting myself to be what the other person wanted.  It was exhausting.  It so much more glamorous to not lift a finger, to just smile and laugh.  If they go there is always another knock on the door and eventually they know how to dance the way you do. If you're lucky they know how to lead.  That's hot.

Box of Chocolates and Goodbye

We laid on a bed outside by the pool at one of Hollywood's hottest nightclubs.  The lighting from the pool made everyone look like a Gucci ad and there were tiki torches with flames that surrounded us.  The room was filled with English rockstars and the latest "it" girls.  They all seemed full of shit and their outfits looked like they were trying too hard.  I propped myself up on my arm and listened more than I spoke.  He just wanted to be heard and I could see the pain in his eyes which were different colors, one green and one gray.  "I have never been treated so nicely in my life." he said.  I was taken aback.  He had flown across the pond from the U.K. where he lives an affluent life.  He slept in the corner of my  studio apartment on a piece of foam with two new blankets that I bought from Target, they were blue.  The last time I saw him he was a boy and now he has grown into a man.  A complex one.  He charmed all of my friends and managed to pick up a few American girls while here on holiday.  He was my friend and I treated him the way I was raised to treat people.  "Do unto others as you would want them to do unto you," my mother always told me.  I did just that and when he left to get on the plane he pulled me close, "There is so much to say but I just can't say it now, thank you."  "You don't have to say anything."  I said and rubbed his back, he had tears in his eyes and the girl he was with looked at me, she nodded and I smiled back.  I turned and walked back into the production office in Venice where I was working.  As I opened the door I blew him a kiss and he was wiping his face.  I sat at my desk and thought about the past two weeks.  They were awesome.  I felt like I was reintroduced to society. I went out every night.  I was tired everyday.  I got sick from lack of sleep and yet I never felt more alive.  It was nice to be appreciated.

He left me with a box of chocolates from his mum's shop in London.  I will eat one everyday for a month.  I will revisit all of the places that we went together and meet new friends, real friends, friends like him.  When the Hollywood douche bags act like they can't be bothered I will tell them to "fu*k off" or call them a "c*nt" or a "di*k" and say they are "awful" all with a very posh English accent under my breath while turning on my heels and walking toward better times.

Good Deed Done

I drove down La Brea in rush hour traffic on a Friday, anyone who lives in Los Angeles knows that Friday is theeee dreaded day for traffic.  It was hot and I was fighting a bit of a head cold but it was my birthday so I fought through it thinking about the margarita and the laughs I would have later on in the evening.  My facebook blew up all day with birthday messages and I was overcome by the new cast of characters that had found me in this lifetime.  I am grateful for their kindness.

As I fiddled with the radio stations going back and forth between Power 106 and Jack FM, I had to stop for the gridlock.  I looked to my right and this young girl was standing in front of an abandoned store front that had all the windows blacked out.  She was wearing daisy dukes and had flaming red hair to match her tank top, she was pale and could easily be the next "it" girl here in Hollywood if her number came up and she met the "right" people to launch her.  She shifted from one leg to another and she was in impeccable shape.  Weren't we all at that age.  She looked like she took ballet class, her posture was perfect.  As I imagined an idyllic life she had prior to coming to the big city I began to notice that something did not look right.  She popped an envelope through the slot in the door that had bars on it, she continued to fidget and looked left then right.  Her sweetness was no longer palpable and her movements were quick.  She looked like she was on some sort of mission.  Just as traffic started to move the heavy door in front of her opened quickly and a big burly guy grabbed her arm, no pleasantries or smiles were exchanged and he ushered her in from the sunlight.  Before I could press my gas she was gone.  I looked at my arms and there were goose bumps on them.  Something didn't feel right, I reached for my blackberry and dialed 911.
A voice answered the phone, it was nasally "911, what's your emergency?"
"Hi, I'm not sure I should be calling you and I never do this, but I want to report some suspicious activity."
"What happened?"
"Well I saw this young girl standing on the street, blah, blah blah."
"Hold please, I'm transferring you to the Wilshire district, ask for a detective."
Before I could answer, the phone was ringing.  It must of rang 100 times.  I had just pulled into Yogurtland so I let it ring and ring while I got my pistachio yogurt with blueberries and walnuts.  I placed my cup on the scale.
"1.97 please."
Yes, I was happy, I always kept it under two dollars.
I was fumbling for some change when I finally heard a voice on the other end of the line.
"Detective Gutierrez, how can I help you?"
"Hi, I never do this but I want to report some suspicious activity, I saw this teenage girl standing on La Brea in front of an abandoned store front with blacked out windows and......."
"Ok, we are going to send the vice squad to go check it out."
"Thank you, thank you so much, I hope that girl is ok."
I hung up the phone and finished my yogurt and thought about when I first moved here.  I was so blessed to find just one person to look after me.  She was my life line, my stability and my best friend.  Every year on my birthday she would get me a cake with my photo on it.  They have cake shops here in Hollywood that do that and she loved seeing my face every time she unveiled it year after year.  It was always accompanied by the most lovely card, I have them all saved wrapped in a bow that I keep in my top drawer.

Tonight I will celebrate with my new friends and some old friends that have become new again.  I am grateful that I never ended up on La Brea alone waiting for some heavy mysterious door to open.  I thank God that I had someone who always wanted to know where I was and what I was doing and if I was OK.  I miss Cassie everyday and I will toast her favorite margarita at her favorite restaurant tonight.  I will quietly remember the cake and remember how she always told me to never give up.

Cheers to another year in Los Angeles and another year of life.

Thank you :)

Summer Storms and Burnt Knees

Within the span of a month I helped four people move.  It was pretty wild.  Packing, cleaning, crying, lugging, schlepping, fighting, waiting and dare I say, sweating.  The last move took place in Boston.  I was moving my little cousin Jenna from Brighton, Massachusetts to Sommerville.  It's twenty minutes from downtown Boston and that used to be my stomping ground when I was in College.  Sommerville was the bad part of town, nicknamed Slummerville but now with the Boston Proper rents at astronomical highs people are hip to these newly renovated  neighborhoods.  I remember when I went to school at Emerson, I lived on Beacon Street and most of my fellow classmates were trust fund kids and  a few really cute guys that hooked up with the wealthy New York Park Avenue babes for a free ride.  I slipped through the cracks via a scholarship, settlement money from a car accident and a little bit of financial aid.  I didn't pay any attention to the sons of Fortune 500 CEO's, I opted for the cute Portuguese soccer player that worked in the cafeteria and lived in.....wait for it....Slummerville.  I went there a few times back in the day to meet his pitbulls.  I wasn't scared.  It reminded me of the block where I grew up.

Anyway, back to moving my cousin to the cleaned up, gentrified, 2011 version of Sommerville.  It was 90 degrees and humid.  I wore my grey skinny jeans and that was a big mistake, they were stuck to me by the end of the day.  It was like moving someone and they lived inside of the steam room at the YMCA.   Hot, hot, hot, humid, humid, humid, and SWAMPY.  It was me, my cousin, my aunt and my uncle.  We grabbed dressers, clothes, tables, dishes, a matress, a television and a plethora of other stuff that we just threw in boxes. It took us about 6 hours and then we hopped in my cousins car and made the five hour drive to Maine.  As we crossed the state line in New Hampshire, I looked up into the sky and it was a peach color at 6 o'clock at night, every ten minutes I would see a lightning bolt stretch across the sky and I thought about my childhood.  I am from moody territory.  The east coast is unpredictable and real.  I took a deep breath and remembered everything that I came from and it made my time in Los Angeles all the more bearable.  I would just have to find the people that understood.

I timed my trip to coincide with Jenna's birthday (the one that I helped move), she was turning twenty four.  All of her cohorts were meeting her in Maine and it was going to be a non-stop 3 day celebration.  She is one of the funniest people I know and we laughed for most of the five hour trip to Maine.  Her wit is laser sharp and her one liners will slay anyone, I crumble into hysterics.  Back East you know how much someone loves you by how much they insult you and she didn't let up on me once.  She kept calling me Hollywood and telling me I needed to pick up the pace and why was I so depressed because she would catch me staring into space.  I'm a thinker and she is full throttle from the minute she wakes up.  She was ranked all Western Massachusetts female athlete of the year, she is tall with freckles and the most beautiful blue eyes.  Oh and she likes girls.  Yep.  And from what I saw she can charm the pants off of anyone, man or woman.  She had all the party girls in a tizzy.  Her charisma is lethal.  I was never made fun of so much in a three day span and yet I never felt more loved.  Ahh family.

The house was on high tilt all weekend.  Living in Hollywood I have not witnessed the amount of partying like I saw at the house on the hill in Maine.  These girls were wild and did not stop until my aunt had to go out into the yard at four in the morning to tell them to get into the house and stop singing at the top of their lungs.  We spent our days sunning on the dock at Moose Pond.  It was beautiful.  The water was super clean.  We were surrounded by loons and my aunt told me that loons only hang in clean water.  My uncle's house is positioned where you can see the whole pond from his back picture window.  It is glorious and green with trees as far as your eyes can see.  The view reminds me that God is indeed the greatest artist in the world.  It is heaven here in Maine.  It is the way life should be.

The party train left on Sunday night and I was left with my aunt and uncle and my two other cousins.  It was calm and peaceful and our time was spent boating, cooking, sleeping, power walking, reading and watching movies.  A home cooked meal every night.  It was delicious.

Now this is where it gets a bit surreal.  It has to do with the six degrees of separation.  Well I am two degrees from President Obama.  I know, shocking huh?  Two people away from Obama.  White House Correspondents dinner in my future, maybe?  My cousin Karin is a brainiac.  A bona fide genius.  She works for JP Morgan and brokers deals in the 100 million dollar range and she's not even thirty yet!  If I'm not mistaken she just closed a deal for 725 million.  The rest of us stand in awe of her wheeling and dealing.  I only saw this kind of wealth on TV when I used to watch shows like Dallas and Dynasty as a kid.  Anyway, she got into Wharton Executive Business school and lo and behold her classmate is Reggie Love, President Obama's personal assistant.  She is friends with him now and all because she didn't know who he was at first.  All her other classmates were jocking him and she knew he worked at the White House but didn't know what he did.   One day she asked him who his boss was and he said "President Obama".  She said "well I know that but who do you have to report to?"  He said "President Obama."  She was a little taken aback and it had now made sense that so many people approached him when they were out on the town.  So my cousin then Reggie and then the President.  I never thought that I would ever have an "in" in the political world.  Crazier things have happened.

I poured my heart out to my cousin Amy, she is the middle girl and she is a teacher.  She is a listener and a great shoulder to lean on.  I talked about my mistakes and my hopes and she reassured me that I was on the right path.  She has the sweetest speaking voice and I felt ok telling her my secrets.  She told me to keep going on my path because it was the right one.  I come from a land of hard work, kept words, home cooked meals, boat rides on the lake, ski trips on the mountain and a family of good stock.  I left Maine standing up straighter.

Cut to the Hurricane Irene. I mean don't believe the hype, at least where I was staying, in a sleepy suburban town just west of Boston.  I have never seen so many people excited and panicked for a pending "disaster". It was all over the news and two hours before it hit my mother swore that we would be in the basement hiding in a corner with bottled water and cheese and crackers.  With my family there is always food involved.  Anyway on the day of impending doom I slept late.  I opened the shade in my room and it was rainy and windy, I stared and watched the leaves fall to the ground for about an hour.  Everything was so green, it reminded me of when I trekked through the Costa Rican rainforest with a an ex-boyfriend and his family.  I saw banana leaves the size of me.  Well now I was in New England and totally loving the "chaos" that was about to ensue.  I told my mother that it was just going to be rainy and she cut me off quicly saying "the eye is going to hit a 2pm"  she breathed heavy delivering the news and I realized that this was the most excitement she had experienced in years.  When the "eye of the storm" finally came and went I put on my sneakers and my headphones and went for a walk.  It was absolutely beautiful.  Island weather.  It was tropical and the air smelled fresh.  I was so happy.  I looked into the lives of others, the whole scene, the gorgeous homes that I walk past with the SUV's, a mom, a dad, and 2.5 kids.  I will return to Los Angeles soon, and my life is about as far from this idyllic setting as you can get.  I'm excited to get back to business though and I am proud to call it my home now.   I will always be a Boston girl at heart and while I can, I enjoy my neighborhood walks here in New England.  I drink it in and take it back with me.

When I land on the west coast I will put my armor on for the hustle and bustle of it all.  The night before my flight I pay a visit to my Uncle Gerry and Auntie Ruth to say goodbye.  Before I leave my uncle tells me that he has something for me.  He goes upstairs to his room and pulls out a bible, it has been in his top drawer for over 30 years.  It belonged to my grandfather, the only father I ever knew and he kept it there ever since he passed.  It is tattered and worn and some of the pages are falling out.  I am overcome with love and I thank him.  I will cherish it forever.

Later on,  I turn to my favorite scripture, the one that says, "guard your heart and be wary of wolves in sheep's clothing."  I've always preferred Edward to Jacob anyway, at least with a vampire you know what you're getting and my oh my are they sexy.  Life really is about the choices you make.  I forgot to put sunblock on and I burnt my knees.  I chose to walk in the rain and came out on the other side in the sun.  When I board my flight to California my mother kisses me goodbye and says "the birds always sing after a storm."

Yes they do.

Who Knew?

I found myself on a soundstage today assisting a photographer/brilliant nerd shooting props for a pitch to do the main titles for a top TV show.  He is the husband of a friend and she was too tired to go, so I tagged along.  I couldn't keep my mouth shut.  "What about this angle?' and "How about this lighting?"  I wondered if he regretted the decision to take me along.  All he did was ask me about my novel, whether or not I was on my first draft or what have you.  He gave me the low down on the latest writing software and usually I tune out when it comes to that techie software but he explained it from the vantage point of an artist and I was sold.  On the drive home he explained the four minute car/death scene of Julianne Moore in Children of Men and again I was riveted, hanging on to his every word.  I don't surround myself with people that pay that much attention to detail, probably because I can barely pick up the clothes from my bedroom floor.   But  that's probably why he is one of the most in demand photographer/director's in town. He has won an Emmy, and that is what you need to do to win awards, pay attention to detail.  I have a lot to learn, yet he listened to me, welcomed my creativity.  It was pretty fabulous, I felt like I was bringing my vision to the table and it was  appreciated.

We arrived at Manhattan Beach studios around 5 o'clock.  These studios were built for David E. Kelley so he could work close to his home at the beach.  He's from Boston.  I'm from Boston.  I did a pilot for him once, but never met him.  Maybe someday we will meet.    My boss and I wanted to shoot outside, so we were racing against the sun.  I was my usually worrisome self, pushing him along to move at a faster pace, snapping at the security guard when it took 15 minutes to let us onto the lot.  The whole time, the man I was working for, kept his cool and didn't stress out once.  Is that the key to success?   Not stressing?  Anyway  I constantly looked at the sun going behind the clouds and I got anxiety.  His response as he set up two cameras, switched lenses and set up a monitor, "So are you obsessed with writing your novel?"  Why is he asking me this, the sun is going down!!  "I'm frustrated, I have writers block and I don't know how to end it."  "Ah, I see."  he responded.  "Visuals always help in that situation, have photos near the writing, or go to Gettyimages.com for inspiration/"  Oh my God, I rush too much, that's probably why I never get anywhere or get to where I want to go to at a rapid pace.

We were shooting the props for a TV show that I auditioned for last week.  I obviously didn't get the part.  They cast an African American Senator and his wife was African American as well.  Phew.  It had nothing to do with my acting ability.  I ran into my friends boyfriend,  he was cast as a series regular and was freaking out that I was there on set.  He looked different when I saw him.  He was wearing a suit and looked very handsome, I can see why my friend fell for him.  He was feverishly texting me to come visit him on set, I couldn't, I was loading camera equipment, I wish I could be that glamorous.

I learned so much today and I will continue it for days and days to come.  I love when I have to stop, look at the ground and wrap my head around the four thousand dollar lens that was just thrown on to my desk, that some genius has told me to put on his camera.  My hands shook, I was nervous, but I did it.  I will wake up again tomorrow and do it all again and probably learn about some other crazy film sequence in some film I've never seen.

Knowledge is power and it keeps the lights from getting shut off.

Grace

To do things with grace either comes naturally or with a lot of practice.  I've been told I'm a natural and thank God for it.  Grace is smiling and loving when you wander into uncharted territory knocking on doors that don't open.  It's knowing when to make your exit and knowing when to not look back.  Please and thank you are a given and kind words soothe the soul.  I've maintained grace when the floors were dirty and my music wasn't appreciated.  I rely on God's grace when I talk to him at night and I can't sleep.  He tells me to go when I don't want to and I listen.  In the end I am happy.  It took some meandering but it was worth it.  I let go and see where the next chapter takes me.

I read for a new TV show last week.  I did a decent job in the room, it had been a while so I was a little rusty.  In the end it's all about your confidence, can you pull off holding your own on a network television show.  My coach says I'll get my mojo back once I start playing the game more.  The casting director used to drink at the bar where I worked at years ago so we shared a laugh and were able to catch up.  Everyone I knew back in the day is coming up, it's so cool to see the fruits of people's labor.  The same thing happened when I auditioned on Friday for a big national commercial, the CD was one of my regular customers as well and we talked about all the characters that used to hang out at the Formosa.  We laughed.  It was nice, then I did my thing and it felt right.  It was fun.  I think this is how it's supposed to be.

The shift in perspective has been extraordinary.  It doesn't have to be so grim all the time.  I had lunch on a balcony overlooking the beach in Malibu today.  It was special and beautiful, a slice of the world that I had never seen before.  The West Coast is truly spectacular and on that note I will fly east next week.  I will travel to Massachusetts, Maine and New York.  I cannot wait.  I'm turning the pages in a frenzy, peeking at the next chapter and it looks delicious.

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