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.