The past...

So I just had my 10 year high school reunion this weekend, and it's a funny thing about reunions...no matter how much you think you won't or try not to be affected by the past and who you were then, you inevitably fall into your same role.  Perhaps just for a brief moment before you realize how utterly ridiculous it is that you have become your teenage self again, or maybe you never notice and end up hanging out with your old friends all night recreating those old high school cliques unwittingly.  Either way, you are not immune to the mysterious power that is and was your adolescence, and I was no exception.  I was excited to go to my reunion, even though the realization that I was really that old was a bit unnerving.  I knew that I was a different person now than I was back then, that I've been one of those who has come into her own after graduation, and I was ready to shine.  Don't get me wrong, I loved my time at RHS, maybe more in memory than in actuality roaming those halls day in and day out, and I was not looking forward to all the "what do you do now?" questions...but I was confident and that right there made all the difference.  To say I was shy back in high school is an understatement, I was really shy, really quiet, really insecure, and yet...I wanted nothing else but to not be. This is not to be mistaken with soft spoken or timid, I had no problem telling you what was on my mind...but only if you talked to me first.  I hated the fact that I gravitated to the corners of the room, that I stood in silence instead of standing in the spotlight making jokes, but what could I do?  I mean still I have those moments of self doubt in social situations but hell, I'm an actor and you'll be damned if I let those rule my life anymore.  I thought I'd go into the reunion confident and strong and ready to talk to people and find out how they too have changed...only to find that none of us really did change...or did we?

Ok, so maybe I'm not being fair.  I know for a fact that some of us did.  Take my friend who I went with for example, a wonderful vibrant confident and undoubtedly gorgeous woman who back in senior high was, believe it or not, quieter than even me.  Seriously, I had to convince her to even go to our prom.  Back then she was the same wonderful sweet and beautiful girl as she is now...just add ten years, a bottle of peroxide, some stilleto heels, and confidence that is unassuming yet sparkling with self assurance and you've got a force to be reckoned with.  You've also got a girl who had no problem working the room and laughed at the end of the night recalling how may people had said they didn't remember her in high school.  Seriously, I admired her and the ease at which she appeared to have shed her 17 year old self.  I wasn't quite so lucky and noticed myself playing it safe most the night, talking to people that I had known at least slightly well (or as well as a quiet shy girl could have) back in High School during the reunion.  I mean to be honest we all knew everyone we graduated regardless of whether or not we had ever actually spoken to them only having a class of around 300...and of the 75 or so that showed up to the event most of them were all people you'd expect to see there...people from roughly the same social circles that overlapped from time to time or had mingled at parties (or shown up to them) back in the day.  There were the leadership crowed, the partiers, the "cool jocks" (because we most definitely had the uncool ones too), the ones that went to the dances and the football games and hung out in the front parking lot for lunch and after school.  The ones that if my High School had been a movie...were the ones the movie would undoubtedly include as the semi cool kids, the ones you'd expect to go off to good colleges and join fraternities and sororities (and I'm pretty certain most of us did just that).  The "ultra" cool kids who cut class and smoked cigarettes, the "mean girls," the "drama freaks," the "nerds," well most of them were mia this Friday night...minus a stray straggler here and there.

This is not to say everyone that was there that night had been part of the same circle because we were not, but generally speaking there were no huge surprise appearances, and no crazy "omg did you see so and so" moments.  Yes.  We all looked pretty much the same...if not better than we had back then.  At least those of us who came, but back to the point.  Sometime in the night I remember looking around and realizing how strange it was.  I saw what I would have considered my group of friends at the photo booth, all getting ready to take photos and contemplated joining them because after all, wasn't I part of their group?  And yet, I stopped, I hesitated, instead of running over and joining in on the fun I told myself no, they were better friends, I was just on the outskirts of that group, quiet and doubtful...and I watched them from afar take a set of group photos that I should have been in.  So strange too, because looking back there is no way that I would have done anything but add to that photo, for those WERE my friends back then...yet I was momentarily frozen with the same insecurities that I had in high school.  The fear of imposing where I was not welcome, where I may not belong in someone else's eyes...that same fear that kept me shy and quiet back then was again holding me back now.  And I realized as I looked at my classmates...I was not alone.  True some of them were off comfortably mingling with people they may not have been friends with back in the day, but most of them were sticking to those friends that they had been the closest too... reminiscing no doubt and reconnecting in some cases...but also staying where they felt most comfortable, back in those social cliques we all stuck to that helped us not feel so alone in those lost years of youth.  By the end of the reunion everyone remaining had either made enough trips to the bar or come to the same realization that I had and begun to loose those old teenage inhibitions and return to their normal adult selves and that's when the fun really began.  That's when you had conversations with people you never talked to before, when you approached your old crush to see who they were now, when you realized that you were missing out on some really awesome people, or that people you thought were awesome really didn't stack up.  And yes, I'm most definitely referring to my own personal experience here.

But in the end, I guess what the moral of the story is, the entire reason for taking you my reader down this rabbit hole of memory lane with me...is that no matter how much we think we've changed, no matter how far we've come in our lives...we really are always who were back then.  And I'm not just talking about High School, but at every point in our lives, the high moments, the lows, and everything in between.  Yes people change, people grow, we are never the exact same person we were just moments before...but we never escape the past, for the past has made us what we are now.  We should embrace it, not run from it, even if we think it did nothing but inhibit us.  It should be a strength within us, not something we cover up and try to hide away.

I am the shy, quiet, horribly insecure girl I was then.  But that is my strength, not my weakness.  I am also a wonderful, confident, strong woman who is not afraid to go after her dreams...and stand here today before you and say...

I'm done running away from my past, done trying to forget things and mistakes I have made.  Perhaps it's easy for me to say, I have not made any giant irreversible stumbles on my path to who I am now...but we all have had our moments.  Regardless, we should not dwell on those times rather look how far we have come, look how much stronger, better, more amazing we are now.  And if you cannot relate...then maybe it is time you looked at your past, and re-evaluated who you are now, who you think you are, and who you want to be.

All in all, I'm glad I went.  It was a lot different than I had expected, though I'm not quite sure what it was that I thought I was going to be experiencing.  I know for one thing though, it was a lot weirder than I had thought it would be, and yet still a lot of fun (granted the multiple trips to the bar to visit my friend Jamie and coke may have helped with that a bit).  I do wish though, that more people had gone, that the people that hung out on the fringes of the student body had proudly walked into that room and been able to do what my friend did so well...and me, well, less well...been comfortable with who we are now, and shown those who we may have looked up to or shied away from, that we are and always were just as amazing as ever.

Be strong, be happy, be wonderful, be you.

Another year...another inspiration

So it's dead midnight on the Monday before thanksgiving and there's a lot of things swimming through my mind.  Some of it old thoughts and ideas stuck swirling for weeks even months and some of it new, fresh, and bright.  These new ideas, these new bursts of light seeping through the cracks of my muddled and cloudy conscious are the important ones, the ones that inspire me and motivate me to sit here before you on my father's computer in the wee hours of the morning almost a week into my much needed escape from the clutches of LA and all that it is.  Yes, I'm home, where I grew up and where I will always feel the most at peace and I'm finally starting to feel refreshed, alive again.  It only took five days.  Seriously LA drains me more and more...and maybe it's not just LA, perhaps I'm only using the city as a scapegoat to blame my increasing unhappiness and restlessness on, but either way I'm so glad to be here, where the air is cleaner, the stars are brighter, and my struggles seem a million miles away...for now.

Also, it's the first time I've been able to sit down at a computer and write for a while now.  Granted I could have used this computer any given day or night that I've been home but of course I had to wait for inspiration, that extra push, the urge to let my fingertips fly across the keyboard and the freedom to let my thoughts spill forth onto the screen.  And I cannot tell you the joy it gives me now to sit down and write, I've been looking forward to this trip with greater anticipation than usual for this reason alone.  You see, I don't know if I've told you before, but I am cursed.  Electronics hate me and I don't say this lightly.  Seriously, they do.  It's a real big pain too, this been the age of technology and I fear it's only going to grow increasingly worse as the years go on.  It's not my choice either as I pride myself on knowing how things work...and how to fix them when they break and it's much to my frustration that I find myself helpless when it comes to technological failure.  And fail, they do.  It's as inevitable, and unavoidable as catching a cold when the weather changes...or in my case, worse.  Seriously, I get sick less often than my electronics fail me or short or just plain refuse to function properly for me.  The best part is no one else can explain my constant and ridiculous bad luck with computers, phones, my wii remotes, stereos, pretty much anything of that nature.  So why am I going on and on about this you may wonder?  Well, I guess what it all comes down to in all relevance to this post is...I've been virtually computer less for about a month now, and let me tell you, that's an awful state to be in if you're me.

Have you tried going without your computer for a month?  I dare you to try it even for a week.  Seriously, pretend your computer refuses to work for you, takes forever (and ten tries) to load properly and then freezes ever time you click on an icon or open a window.  To get to your e-mail it takes you 30 minutes, and just to read one another 10.  Forget about trying to write, with that lag time you are lucky to get 3 sentences down in an hour, and if you make a typo you're screwed.  Seem like a really bad nightmare?  Well that was the hell I was living for the past 5 weeks!  Lucky for me my phone didn't decide to poop out as well, so I was still semi connected to the world...but really, how much can you get done on a smart phone?  I was so disconnected with the world and at a time of such change it couldn't have been worse.  I all of a sudden found myself with more free time having finally quit my job at the bar and having taken this month off from classes at Playhouse West (a tough but in the end logical call seeing as I would be missing two weeks of class for this trip along with an additional class for a commercial I booked that I will write about later), but less social opportunities having been working so much before and so disconnected from everyone due to scheduling and now with no way other than a small two by four screen to reconnect with.  This of course added to my unrest and unhappiness as I became a homebody due to circumstance created a very very unhappy me.  But I'm not here to dive into my misery or the darkness I found myself entering, all I knew was that I was becoming a miserable person that even I didn't like being around, and that I needed a change.

So back to the present, it's three days before Thanksgiving and close to half way through my little vacay from life and I'm ready for a new positive outlook.  I'm ready to be the me that is happy and optimistic and charming and fun to be around, the person that I should be for really, I have so much to be thankful for.  It's kind of sad to thing that it is so easy to loose sight of all that we have going for us, that we need a specific holiday to remind us that our lives are good, that we are lucky in so many ways.  I think about this a lot, even in my moments of the deepest self pity, when all I want to do is wallow around in my own unhappiness (don't judge, you know you have those moments too) I know that I'm being ridiculous.  I know that I'm being stupid because there is so so much that is wonderful in my life, and I am ever grateful for all that is good all that I have regardless of how much self loathing I feel.  Sounds confusing to you?  Believe me it baffles me too.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to take a moment to remember the great things in my life, the accomplishments I have achieved however small or large, and to put out there to the universe in black and white with you as my witness what it is I am going to achieve.  The promises I make to myself.

Perhaps this new motivation is a product of my birthday having just passed, since every year I get older I make a new promise that this is the year I achieve greatness, achieve happiness.  Perhaps it's due to my ten year reunion being this week and a subconscious alarm that is triggering some sort of fear that I'm wasting my life away and loosing my youth.  Possibly it's that LA really has been draining the life from me or maybe it's my increasing notion of distaste for the city of dreams, this trip like a ray of sunlight cutting through the dark clouds that were hovering over me for the last month.  Or maybe it simply seems the right thing to do with Thanksgiving on the horizon, either way this is what I'm thankful for...

The love of a family that although they may not like the decisions you make, support you till the end.
That I know I can always pick up the phone and call my mom when I need someone to talk to.
The amazing friends that will be there for me till the end, the ones that don't let me down.
The place in which I grew up, and how hard my parents worked and still work to be able to provide it to me.
My health, it truly astounds me sometimes how rarely I get sick (knock on wood!).
My logic...even if it is to a fault.
My morals and way in which I look at the world.  I'm a thinker and I wouldn't know how else to be.
Being lucky enough to be of mixed race, we are the future :)
Being self sufficient, and independent.
My apartment, and the fact that I can provide myself a home that is truly mine.
My job, it may not be the most lucrative but it's a job, and I like it.
That I am chasing my dreams, no matter how rough the road may be at times.
That I have people that believe in me, sometimes even more than I believe in myself.
That I am a free thinker, in a nation that allows me to be so.
That I live on a coast...in California...where people are more open minded and the weather is nice.
That I've had a chance to see the world, even if it was only a small chance...for now.
That I'm never quite satisfied, always looking for ways to grow and improve and learn.
That there is food on my table, and that I have never known true hunger.
That I know no matter what happens, I will be ok.
The faith in the universe, and the knowledge that life is a gift.
That I'm alive, and that I have this adventure to live.

Of course there are so many more things that I have to be thankful for, the list can truly go on forever.  Even things that we see as negatives can often be positives if seen from a different light, but at the end of the day we must simply be thankful for that day.  For the gift of life, of waking up in the morning, of the world around us, of who we are and the people and things that have made us that way.  We will never know the true meaning to life so what is the use of doing anything but living it to the best of our ability?  And that's what I'm trying to do, I may stumble, I may fall along the way, but in the end I'll always get back up.  I'll always find a new reason to be inspired, a new angle in which to turn things around...and I'm ready to fight for my life, for happiness, for the joy that this great adventure can bring...again.

The struggle that makes us stronger...

They said this would happen, they said this time would come...and I don't fool myself into believing that this will be the only point on my journey where I feel defeated, lost, frustrated.  The roads we choose to follow...the ones that mean something to us, the ones we feel passionate about...those are the ones that will cut us down, trip us up, make us doubt ourselves and our path and it is up to us and us alone to pick ourselves up, clean our scrapes and stand strong.  We have two choices when things get rough...push on or give up.  It is at those junctures, at those moments that we find out what is really important to us...and how stubborn or strong willed we are.  Maybe it's a mistake, maybe it won't amount to anything...but on the slight chance that we do make it, that we do achieve the impossible, that we do make our dreams come true...well...is that worth it to you?

So here I stand, questioning myself, questioning if this is really the path to my happiness, if this is right for me...questions that I cannot hope to answer, that only time will tell.  Everything in the past is 20/20...the future is a great unknown, like walking through a thick fog...we can only see what is right in front of us at the time, all the squinting and straining our eyes will not prove to clear the mist any more than charging right at it will...so might as well take that leap of faith.  At least this is what I tell myself, I don't think I'm half as brave as I claim to be...all the motivational things I say and subscribe to, they are just as much to convince myself as they are to convince others.  It will be ok.  Things will turn out how they should.  We will end up happy.  Faith, faith in the unknown, faith in the journey, faith in yourself and the world.  Say it enough and you'll believe it, right?  That's how I've become who I am...that's how I conquered shyness, that's how I forgot about what others may think of me with their judging eyes and unkind words through school, that's how I get through each day...I have to believe, I have to hold onto that hope that my words are true.  We are nothing without hope, without faith, and no, not the faith in heaven or hell or god or whatever it is you may believe...simply faith that one day we'll all be able to look back on our struggles, on our dark moments and know that it was all just part of the journey.  The adventure.  And it was not, all for nothing.

Strength, we must have strength to pull us through.  We must shut out our doubts, our worries, our insecurities and stay strong.  Some may call it pig-headed, I prefer stubborn.  Stubborn isn't always a bad thing, as my parents would have had me believe growing up...and yes, I've been accused of being stubborn to a fault in my past, but if you can use that perseverance in a productive way...well...you can achieve the impossible.  Thank goodness I'm a little stubborn, what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger.  Criticism keeps me hungry...pushes me forward, no one likes to feel like they are failing, and loosing is not something I easily accept.  I'm competitive to a fault, this I will admit.  I've spent years avoiding activities that may result in defeat, playing it safe, never letting myself hope or strive for what it is I really want...for fear that the defeat will be too much.  I wish I could loose gracefully, I wish I could stop that need to "win" to be good at everything because we all know that's impossible.  Perfection is not achievable and we must learn to be satisfied with ourselves...yet never loose the drive to be better.  It's a thin line we walk...and I'm learning how to fight again, to channel that competitiveness, that stubborn child I used to be, to have it be a positive and not the negative it once was.

Which brings us back to today, and the reason I'm writing this post.  Well, today after class I cried.  Not a long crazy world crashing down sort of cry...no.  Not a self pitying break down, or a wounded feelings pouting cry either.  No, that's not my style...and if you know me, you know crying is so not my thing.  It was simply an accumulation of the growing frustration and aggravation that I've been dismissing week after week after being told over and over that my work was sub par.  Of course, they don't say it in those exact words, and we are not supposed to take their criticism personally...even though they are tying to teach us to take everything else personally...but in the end that is what they are saying.  And I'm not fighting them, I'm not denying that everything they are saying is not true...because quite honestly it is.  I've been struggling, I've been frustrated with myself, annoyed that something so seemingly simple is proving to be so ridiculously hard.  If I could only get it...if I could only bring in an activity that they approve of, that they like, then maybe I won't be told once again that my activity is not good...and perhaps then I can get feedback on what it is I'm there for...my acting, my truthfulness.  Of course, I'm sure I'm going about it the wrong way.  So afraid to fail again I'm focusing on pleasing the teacher instead of finding something that is truthful and meaningful to me, and each class, each week, I become more panicked more afraid that I'm starting to dread those early Tuesday and Friday mornings.  So today, I gave in.  I let go of the need to stay strong outwardly and let my emotions sweep over me, let the frustration and defeat in and the tears well up in my eyes and be ok with it.  To cry, but just for a moment and only because I know that in that moment, when I questioned everything, when I wanted to simply give up, when I wished nothing more than to let go of my dream...that I wouldn't.  That I would return again on Friday with a new activity ready for new criticism, that this was just one of many countless more times when I'd wish nothing more than to give up, to throw in the towel and take the safer more traveled road, just one time that I'd stumble hard and have to brush myself off...to ignore the scrapes and bruises and the temptation to turn around.  I've come too far, and I'm far far too stubborn to let this deter me from what it is I want.

I simply must work harder.  Stand stronger.  Believe more diligently.  Have more faith.

Sometimes I just want a hug and to be told it all will work out in the end, that it's ok...but sometimes no one is there, we cannot rely on others to always pick us up when we fall.  We must learn to stand on our own two feet and achieve.  To smile and remember that my life is wonderful...now I just have to make it what I want it to be.

One step closer...fingers crossed!

So, this month has been nuts.  I know I keep saying that but seriously I'm continuously shocked at how much crazier things can get when I already thought they were pretty crazy to begin with.  I don't even know where to begin...this week alone has been one crazy ride.  From getting away on the weekend which was a crazy and much needed vacation.  It renewed my faith in people and life and love, it felt like a dream...everything was amazing and perfect and too good to be true.  I left SB floating on a cloud but afraid to admit it for fear of the cloud giving way beneath my feet.  I then had a crazy long night bonding and partying with co-workers and feeling like I was part of a group and loving it.  I finally convinced myself to have faith that this cloud would not break...only to have it rain on my happiness a few days later leaving me broken and confused.  Then last night the tides changed again and here I am...not sure whether to be happy, or cautious, or angry...sitting again waiting for my world to crash down or for the sun to break through...and yes...I am talking in code.  Perhaps I'll care to expand at a later date...but since this blog is dedicated to my progress in the acting world here we go...

So I guess the most relevant topic to share with you today would be the phone call I received this morning.  Short, sweet, and full of promise.  I tell myself to not get my hopes up...it's simply the next step and I could never get that final phone call...but then again...I just might... "Hello Stephanie, this is Summer (my commercial agent).  You've been put on avail for Southern California Edison so I just need to check the dates with you..."  Avail.  AVAIL!  That means I might book it!  That means I didn't bomb like I felt like (having had that previous emotional roller coaster ride I mentioned interfere with my concentration)!  Yes, it doesn't mean I booked it yet...I could never get that final call telling me where to be and when, but it's a step closer than I have been before, and that, well, that's progress.

This is the first audition I've been sent out on in months, it's not a national spot and it's a 2 year buyout so I won't be receiving any residuals until after 2013 if at all, but it's still work...and that right there would be progress.  So last Wednesday night I received a text alert telling me that I had been requested to audition the following day for Southern California Edison for the role of "Nurse."  So of course I hopped online and confirmed...2:30 in Hollywood.  Left training early, got over to the casting studio and was ready to claim this role.  Heck, I can be a nurse...I'm ambiguously asian/hispanic/whatever and I can easily play friendly and helpful, it's the story of my life.  In and out in 5 minutes and back in my car feeling good about the audition and of course wishing I played this or that more but still overall pretty satisfied.  Then comes the weekend's madness and Tuesday I get a call...I've got a callback tomorrow in Santa Monica...2:30.  Well good thing I didn't end up going on that Vegas trip after all, so on Wed I get up and get ready, leave class early and make my way to Santa Monica.  Here's where I get a little messed up...and yes, you may have guessed it, it's about a guy.  Isn't it always?  This is why I told myself I don't need to worry about dating...or relationships...or anything of that sort, they are just distractions and cause unnecessary stress and pain when I cannot afford to have my concentration broken.  But that's always easier said then done...but back to the story.

So I go into the callback trying so hard to forget anything that's going on in my life...to just concentrate, to do what I came to do.  It looks like it's just me and one other girl up for the role, these are awesome odds...I just need to outshine.  They call my name and it's come on Stephanie...concentrate...this is what you want, what you need, you deserve this role...  I walk into the room and there's four people.  Three seated and one who ushers me in and goes behind the monitor and camera on the right side.  He pulls up a chair for me and a table to pretend is the pregnant lady (I'm giving their first ultrasound) while the other three converse with one another in Spanish...the topic?  A salad.  Yes, a salad.  And here I am...standing or sitting rather, in front of them about to preform and they haven't even batted an eye or given me a second look, no hello no nothing.  So then the guy behind the camera says ok...so it's the same thing as last time...slate, profiles, and start.  So I do, feeling kinda detached and distant, forcing the actions and the smiles and thinking oh no, oh no...concentrate...and then it's over.  The three on the couch nod and the girl on the right says "ok" and that's it...I stand, thank them...and before I know it I'm standing back out in the waiting room wondering what just happened, and kicking myself for being so removed from what was going on.  Damn distractions.  I try to brush it off...I mean you never know, they could have liked it, the other girl could do horribly, who knows...all I can do is let it go and wait.

And then I get the call today.  After a long night at work, and a little pick me up from my blues...and a whole lot of randomness that I have only begun to process.  Goes to show you really do never know, you may think you did great and never get a call...or you may think you did awful or at least not as good as you know you could have...and still make the cut.  So now it's fingers crossed, it's time I book my first real paying gig...and with all that's going on in my life I feel like it would just make sense.  I feel like my time is now, that I'm ready and that the universe is going to open up to me...and I hope that this cliff I'm slowly edging my way onto won't give way below me but rather support me and carry my on to greater heights.  In life, in love, in entirety.

Hope, we must have hope...and faith.  And we must learn to turn our backs on our fears, because sooner or later you must let go of that safety net and fly...even if it means we may fall.

Pressing pause...

So I guess we're about due for a new post and my, how quickly things change.  Last time I wrote about being inspired, feeling motivated, achieving your dreams and not letting anything or anyone get in the way.  Well, not even a month later and how the tables have turned.  That's just like life though, and we must learn to roll with the punches and enjoy the crazy ride for in the end, there's really no use fighting it.

I'm not saying that I've lost that drive or motivation or belief in myself and my "destiny," no, not at all...I'm just saying that sometimes life has a different plan for us and we have to let go and let the current take us downstream.  In the end we will eventually end up in the ocean, but how we get there is not always determined by us.  So July has come and gone and silly me to think August would be less hectic and allow me to concentrate on my goals and joys, for I have quickly found that not to be the case.  If anything, August is crazier than July, not by choice but by obligation.  My wants are superseded by my needs; mainly my need to survive.

At Playhouse west our teachers love telling us the story of James Franco...the golden boy of PW.  I love James Franco, I think he is brilliant and talented and definitely one of the great actors of my generation not to mention super hot.  I've loved him for a while and his work just seems to get better and better, he truly is an artist, and I am clearly not alone in my admiration.  Needless to say, if you ever take a class at Playhouse West you will undoubtedly hear his name over and over and over until quite frankly, you are a little sick of hearing it.  But that is not what I'm getting at, and not what I want you to take from this tangent.  James has not gotten to where he is by luck, or by chance, he is and was dedicated to his craft, his work, his dream.  I don't know how many times I've heard the story of how for a time he lived in his car while dedicating all his time to rehearsing and class and acting and projects with his fellow students and how that is the very dedication that is required to achieve what he has.  While I admire James and his drive and his hardship and sacrifices, I have too strong a sense of obligation and responsibility to support myself to ever allow myself to fall on such hardships.  Don't get me wrong, I am in no way disparaging those who find themselves homeless or down on their luck, I do not know their story of how they got there and I am almost positive it was not by choice, all I am trying to say is that I was raised to always take care of your basic needs first.  Shelter, food, pay your bills on time, don't live outside your means.  Life humble and work hard and once you find stability then you can indulge in the rest, in what you love.

So August finds me regrettably dedicating my time and energy not to class, rehearsals, and showcases like July, but to work.  Work and obligations, responsibilities, and putting the ducks in a row.  I fought with myself the first Tuesday of the month, up and dressed, ready for class at 8:30am still a little exhausted from Vegas the weekend before (the batchelorette party) and knowing that the month ahead would not allow me the time necessary to be a dedicated student or even attend class regularly.  I had just started training at a new job since my current one was undergoing drastic policy changes and with them it seemed soon I would not be able to support myself and my class tuition.  So here I was, forced to look elsewhere for the means to my end and juggling my current shifts while trying to show my new job that I was just as serious about them as my new currently jobless colleges were.  I wanted so badly to continue my classes and dedication to moving forward with my dreams as well, but it just didn't seem plausible...or smart to try to juggle this new commitment along with all that I was already doing.  Plus, since it was new restaurant their training schedule was not set in stone I was never sure when I would be expected to there at the drop of a hat, many times interfering with class time.  I attempted once or twice to do both, go to class and then make it to training but since class and the job were on opposite sides of LA, I was consistently late, racing all over town to make it to class, training, and often work.

As I sat there in my apartment watching the minutes roll by debating whether or not to get into my car and to the first class of the new month, fighting with myself and trying to find any way in my mind that I could continue all my classes and both work schedules I finally resigned the fact that responsibility outweighs passion.  It just did not seem reasonable or even possible, so finally I made the hard decision that something had to give.  It couldn't be work because I need to support myself, it couldn't be training and the new job because without it class is not an option, I had already decided to take another break from the theater company, and I couldn't take a month off of Grey's or I'd be ineligible again for the next showcase and deprive myself of the chance to preform in front of industry individuals and possibly my future representation, so that left only one option.  Playhouse West.  Playhouse being the greater time commitment with the twice weekly classes and outside rehearsals and reading lists (all the books having just ordered and been delivered to my doorstep just days before), all of which I loved and wanted to truly dedicate my time to.  I knew I'd be cheating myself and my classmates if I half-assed it; if I simply showed up to class tired and drained and was a warm body but nothing more.  I would not get anything out of it and neither would my peers who were chosen to work with me.  Not to mention my fierce pride and competitive nature.  If I'm to do something I am adamant on doing it right, and I knew I couldn't honestly tell myself I would be able to.

So here I am...half way through the month with finally a moment to spare to open my soul to the world and I am no closer to finding that balance needed to invest my time back into what it is I love and miss.  I sometimes wish I could be so free to live out of my car like James...but then I realize that above all, I must survive, and the only way I know how is this way.  You work hard, you make sacrifices, and you will in time, succeed.  I may be juggling two jobs, I may have stopped auditioning, I may have had to stop going to class but this is not the end, this is not over, I have simply pressed pause on the soundtrack of my dreams, the last note suspended in time and space, hanging, waiting until it is once again clear for the needle to drop and the music to begin again as if nothing ever changed.  And I too am waiting, hanging, going through the motions and living the moments not for what I want but what I need.  Everything else is secondary, I work, I sleep, I eat, I make social appointments with only those who mean the most to me simply to keep myself sane, and I hope for that day to come soon when I can once again simply work to support my dream, not make my work my life.

Destined for greatness...

I don't have cable, or any type of television service for that matter...too expensive and too distracting.  But what I do have is internet, hulu, and a netflix password all of which are just as, if not more, distracting.  Go figure.  Streaming TV shows are my guilty pleasure, they provide hours of mindless entertainment, when one episode is done you simply click next to see the next.  No waiting a week, no commercial breaks...extremely dangerous.  So much so that I've been quite rapidly depleting the number of quality series available at the touch of a mouse, it's a little depressing but entirely irrelevant to the topic at hand, so let's begin...

Lately I'm on a historical fiction kick.  I was always a sucker for castles, kingdoms, and the medieval time period.  Growing up I was obsessed with Ireland.  I'd spend countless hours in my room or on the hill across the street dreaming up elaborate fantasy worlds with thick accents and rich histories of birthrights, valiance, and romance.  So, it's no surprise that once I ran out of Dexter seasons, The Office, and HIMYM, I turned to shows of that nature.  Granted they may not be the most well written or witty shows out there but there is something that can be taken from them, something that dawned on me recently and has had a profound effect on me since.  It's not a new idea or revelation -- you've surely heard it before -- but it is no less groundbreaking and powerful when you come to realize it yourself.  I got to thinking about the shows I've been watching and the impossible feats and obstacles that the protagonists are faced with and overcome and it hit me.  The characters in these shows cannot loose, they cannot fail, against all odds they must succeed, there is no option of failure.  If they fail they loose everything, including their lives for it is their destiny to achieve greatness and to fail your destiny is to fail much more than just yourself.

Never once is it said that their destiny is a sure thing, never once does it say the future is unchangeable, they still must fight for it, suffer for it, struggle and face these seemingly impossible obstacles, they must give their all, their sweat, their tears, their every hope and dream, and many times they come so close to loosing, to dying, to failing, but they never ever give up.  And why?  Because they have the knowledge that they were meant for this, that they have a higher calling, that failure is NOT an option.  It is their destiny to be the King, to unite the land, to be the greatest sorcerer of all time.  It doesn't matter what it is, what matters is that they must fulfill it, no questions asked, no if and or buts.

But what if our lives were like that?  What if we were told we were destined for greatness and we actually believed it?  What if failure, although always a possibility, was not an option because our destiny awaited?  What would we do differently?  What would change?

We are always told as children we can be whatever we want; we can change the world...but what if instead we were told we will change the world, that it is written in the histories of man, written in the stars; that we are the stuff of legends and that we must now go out there and become that person that it is said we will be?  Can you imagine how differently we would act if we knew for certain or truly believed that we would achieve our dreams, that we must?  So many of us want things, want to be better, want to be smarter, want to be more than we are...but what if these wants were not simply things we longed for but things imperative to fulfilling our true purpose?  We would not put them off, we would not say "well I didn't get to the gym today, there's always tomorrow," no.  We would wake up and say "today I must go, today I must achieve" for destiny cannot wait.  That's the problem with dreams, we put them off for too long.  Tomorrow becomes next week, next week becomes next month, next month becomes next year, and before we know it our dreams become things of the past, things we always wanted to do but never got around to.  So why not make our dreams our destiny?  It is always said we create our own destiny's so why not believe in them?  Why not convince ourselves that we too are destined for greatness?

And what if we are?  What if we simply didn't realize it before?  What if I am destined to be one of the great artists of my time...I just haven't realized it till now?  There is no room for questions in the end, there is no room for the what if, there is only the is and am.

So today I make my dream my destiny.  I do not hope to be a great actor, I do not wish to be more diligent, more driven, I do not try to be motivated.  My motivation is a given, there is no option to be less driven, less diligent for it is my destiny to be a great actor of my time.  All those who have come before me and who have achieved greatness, they have not done it by dreaming, by hoping, they have done it because they believed that failure was not an option.  They believed that they were destined for greatness and they went out there and they took what was theirs.  Last week I cried.  I cried because I realized the life I once had, the life I once wanted, the life that I grew up with was so far from the one that I have now, and I wanted both.  I wanted to achieve that past life again but through the one I was living now...and man, looking at the big picture and seeing how far I have to reach before I have the ability or the option to combine both lives...well, it's overwhelming.  But through the tears comes clarity and I have found it at last.  All that motivation I've written about, all that struggling to find drive and hold onto it.  All that uncertainty in myself and my choices...it's all gone.  It's all different now.  I must push forward because this is what I'm meant to do, this is who I'm meat to be.  All it took was me realizing and believing.

I am destined for greatness, it is my destiny to be one of the greatest actors of my time, and I will achieve, I will succeed. I must.

Reflections in the water of the past...

So today is the birthday of my first boyfriend, first love, first heartbreak, first of many things.  It's funny how when we grow up the lives we once believed we'd have change, our needs, our wants, us as a person, it all changes.  He's married now, and apparently expecting his first child.  It's crazy, I'm happy and excited for him, it's amazing to see what he's done with his life, how it's all unfolded.  Granted we don't talk anymore and most of my information comes from that social media site that we all know and love, yes, the one that seems to rule lives...facebook...and the one or two off times I may see a post or happen across his page in boredom or mild curiosity but every time I do, I feel a strange pride in seeing his accomplishments, his happiness.  Almost like I'm a proud birth parent of a child I gave up who doesn't know my existence and whom I admire from afar.  Is that weird?  It is kinda weird, hu?  None the less, as I sit here thinking about the boy I once believed would be my husband, and the life we had imagined, I can't help but smile slightly with nostalgia.

Everyone remembers their first love, the trials the tribulations, the mistakes made by both, the promises made and broken, the way you though no one else could compare.  The fights, the tears, the joy.  The dreams, the plans, the romance, and the heartbreak.  Our love was a mess, we were young, we fought like no other...I was crazy, demanding, he was goofy, and proud.  We loved each other with all we could at that age, spent hours driving around town listening to music, nights laying on the field of his HS or in the bed of my truck looking at the stars.  We broke up the summer before college, got back together, tried the long distance thing but when you're 18 Davis to Irvine was a bit to far and hormones were a bit too wild.  Too many distractions, too many other options, too many questions of what if and what else is out there, I messed up, he messed up, and I broke both of our hearts.  Years later we both found closure, I found a new path to my life and he found her.  I always wondered how it would be to see him marry someone else, but when it happened all I was was happy for him.  I did not hurt, our door had closed and we both recognized that long before his status went from "in a relationship" to "engaged."  My life plan no longer involved winter trips to Tahoe, lunches at the Meadow Club, summer trips to Europe, sailing around the bay on lazy evenings but theirs did.  She was, she is, perfect for him and they are so happy in the life that at one time I thought would be ours.

And I smile, because I know that is not the life I can have, not now.  I realized this when I made the decision to move to LA instead of DC, to give up the straight and arrow path for one of art and creativity and struggle.  I've made the decision to give away the wonderful life I dreamed of as a kid, the life that seemed so normal, so expected, and I'm happy that I don't have to feel guilty, wonder what if...what if I hadn't made those mistakes.  I'm happy that someone I loved so much, hurt so much, is exactly where they are supposed to be, with exactly who they are meant to be with.  Of course it makes me wonder if I'll find my one, I tell myself not to worry about that, I tell myself and those around me that I don't care, that I don't want to find that love, that I don't have time or energy...and it's true, but sometimes I wonder if I'm just afraid.  Afraid to admit that I do want that, that I've always wanted that...my life may be way off course from the dream I had of being a young housewife in the suburbs with a big yard and comfortable means but sometimes I wonder if I'm really that different from the girl I was growing up.  But it's idle thoughts, and counterproductive to the dreams I have now.

I'm an Actor, I live in my very own one bedroom apartment, I enjoy my freedom, my days alone, my restaurant/bar job.  I often long for home and the lifestyle I am accustomed to, the beauty of the mountains, the redwoods, the fresh air, the promise, the contentment I feel, the peace of home...but I wouldn't know what to do with myself there.  This is my life now, and until I understand how to combine both my worlds I must choose to live in one and try and forget the other.  I will admire from afar my friends and past loves, and I will hold steady to the idea that this is who I'm ment to be, that I too will find my own life and happiness in time.  The one thing I do know for certain is that my life is not meant to be what theirs is, my path has made a number of sharp turns in different directions and is an adventure all together different and wonderful.  So as much as I ponder, and as many unanswered questions I have about my own wants, needs, and life...I can still appreciate the strides that others are making.  The happiness they've found, well, there is no one more deserving of such a gift.  And until I too find my own, for them and for that I smile.

Showtime...

So tonight is opening night of Atwater Playhouse's July showcase, and I can't pinpoint the exact emotion I'm experiencing.  I suppose it's more plausible to describe it as a range of emotions as I swing from excited to slightly disappointed to indifferent.  It's this sliding scale in conjunction with the weather that has influenced my actions or rather lack there of today, and has prompted me to attempt to identify, categorize, and describe to you what it is that's going on inside of me.  I feel dull, removed, as if time has no effect and no purpose.  That could be due to my mid afternoon nap that I recently arose from, sometimes the extra unneeded sleep puts me in a catatonic state, or perhaps the heat has made me that much more lethargic.  It's not heat like the last week has been, that uncomfortable hot sticky feeling that makes sitting still unbearable but moving around even more so, no, but it's the heat that makes you lazy, makes afternoon naps naked with the windows open a great possibility. So here I sit, AC on, ceiling fan whirling, trying to wake myself up from this dream state and to live truthfully.

Live truthfully.  I've recently learned that as actors it is our job to live, not act.  Kinda strange that as an "actor" we must try our hardest to stay away from doing exactly that.  Have you ever seen someone on the screen or in a play who was "acting?"  I'm sure you have, we all have, it's awful, it's untruthful, it's downright distracting and we won't pay to see people simply "act" we want them to live.  We watch movies to escape from our own lives, to let go, to believe in an alternative universe where extraordinary things happen and ordinary people rise up to their full potential in extreme situations.  So the actors job is not to "act" rather it is to live, to live the role, the moment, have it be real for themselves and they will captivate their audience.  To completely remove yourself from all social constrictions and feel openly without consequence.  In layman's terms, I go to class to learn to be the 5 year old me again.  The me without restriction, the me before politeness was hammered into me, before the walls went up around me, the me who was ruled by my urges not a slave to societies guidelines on how to react or not react to the world around us.  We're taught to not say anything if we have nothing nice to say, to let things roll off our backs, to not cry or show when someone has hurt us.  To stand strong, to build up this wall, to think before we speak.  Everything that goes against simply living, feeling, being open, honest, and free.  That's why acting is so difficult.  You can't just memorize lines and get up on stage and act, or that's all it will be.  A hollow shell with no deeper feeling, meaning, connection.  Unrelatable and hallow.

That's kinda how I feel now.  So far removed from my emotions not by choice, trying desperately to swim against this current, to dive deep down and pull the truth, the life, the raw feelings from where they swirl inside my heart.  I feel like I'm putting up these emotional blockades to keep myself from being sad.  From allowing myself to admit that I failed...that I've failed myself.  You see this month I have a scene I like, like really really like, a scene I am excited to work on, to put up, to show people...and yet...caught up in my laziness and catatonic state of last month and then overwhelmed by the crazy business I realized was going to be this month I completely put off telling people about the upcoming show.  I always tell people and yet this time, when I actually have something I think is really worth seeing, something I'm excited to show...I self sabotage and wait till the week of to start promoting.  I know most my friends who would love to come support me live far away and have lives and make plans and now, due to my not informing them ahead of time, cannot come out and see my great work.  I'm not saying that this scene is life changing, or that I'm the best I can be, or that I've done all the work there is to do and the scene is perfect.  No, not at all...but I am saying that if I was going to have my friends come to any performance I've done so far...this would be it.  This is one I'm truly looking forward to.  And yet...most my audience is a solid "maybe" since I failed to do the simplest thing ever. Tell them ahead of time.

Not to say that without my own support system in the audience the show is worthless to me or means less...but it kinda does.  We don't have an audience unless we bring an audience, and from previous showcases with my theater company, I'm sometimes the only one who's friends come support.  I'm not sure if it's just because I have great friends, or if I'm the only one who actually tells people about the show, I am pretty sure it's both...but I think I'll stick to the awesome friends idea.  And for the first time I'm truely excited, I have a great scrip from a little known play write, I have a strong acting partner, I have new techniques....I want to show people, and if there's no one to show then why am I getting on stage?  I know that I don't act for praise, or just because people are watching but in the end, the actor needs an audience, just as a writer needs a reader, or there'd be no use in acting at all.  I guess I can just hope that my friend are that extraordinary and that some of my maybes become yeses, and in the end all I can ask for is to live up there on that stage live and have fun.

I'm read for the world to end, I'm ready for Early One Evening at the Rainbow Bar and Grill, I'm ready to live.

The diet of an artist

So I went to the grocery store today to stock up on some necessities.  It wasn't grocery day (that's reserved for Mondays) but as Monday was a holiday and my fridge was looking quite bare with it's family sized pack of chicken drumsticks leftover from the beach, giant piece of week old cheesecake leftover from a catered party at work, odd condiments, and aloe vera to treat my aching sunburnt back (15 hours at the beach is not ever a good idea), I decided to break my schedule and pick up some things to get me through the week.  Come to think of it perhaps I should change my grocery day...Monday may not be the best choice, but that's an entirely different subject and irrelevant at the moment.  So back to the task...

They say you can tell a lot about a person by what they buy, what they eat.  It shows you what is important to them in life.  For example, someone that stocks up on brown rice, chicken breast, and leafy greens is most likely someone who values an active lifestyle and their health.  Someone who stocks up on the sweets likes to indulge and places more value on comfort and someone who frequents the frozen food or ramen isles is someone with either little time, or patience to care about nutrition.  Granted my observations may be very basic and at times incorrect but you get my general gist.  So what did I buy?  Well let's see...

Bread, pop tarts, more bread, nutra grain bars, cheese...the necessities for living my lifestyle.  It wasn't always this way, I used to love dinner.  More specifically cooking extravagant dinners for myself and my roommates or boyfriends or whomever I could at the time.  I loved thumbing through the recipe book, writing the shopping lists, hitting the market, all the slicing, dicing, stiring, simmering, the multi tasking and challenge of timing it right so that everything was done at the same time.  Hot vegis, meat, starch, perfect unison perfect temperature perfect square meal.  Granted this was back before I worked nights and weekends, back before I was a starving artist, back before I worked three jobs to become a starving artist.  Times have changed.  I don't have the luxury of planning out and creating such meals, I've siphoned my funds towards classes instead of expensive grocery trips, and my time towards work and scene work and everything else in between instead of hours in the kitchen perfecting my culinary skills.

So here I was, in the self check out lane with my carbs, quick breakfast options (this was the first time I think I've EVER bought pop tarts...but waking up and getting to a 9 am class after working till 2:30 am the previous night calls for extreme measures), and cheese.  Breakfast and lunch have become my only consistent meals I have at home, and on a tight budget and schedule you can't beat home made sandwiches and instant semi-nutritious meal options.  At least not for a mid week quick grocery trip.  I do have three nights where I can make myself dinner if I watch my time wisely, and for those meals I peruse the meat and fish department eyes peeled for a good weekly special on grocery day.  I'll dedicate an entire post to that later, complete with meal ideas and do it at home tips. As for today, I wasn't going to get distracted by more than the Kings Hawaiian Bread that was on sale and ended up coming home with me for no other reason than it's deliciousness.

...oh, that and the best kind of sandwiches ever...ICE CREAM SANDWICHES!  Can you tell where my priorities lie?  Lol.

Hooray, and we're back on track!

**note:  last night I was overcome with the urge to write, to create, to face the universe and it's challenges head on, so I sat down at my computer and let the words flow through my finger tips and spill across the screen.  I was inspired, it felt good, and in the end I triumphantly stated to the universe that I was winning...only to have the universe respond in it's own ironic way.  As my mouse hovered over the "publish post" button I had written about I could feel the premonition of my post's impending doom.  Learned from years of experience in loosing hours of work due to the unreliability of technology I did the smart thing and copy and pasted to word.  Good thing too because once I clicked my mouse, I felt the universe laughing at me as Blogger completely disappeared from cyberspace replaced by the "ERROR BAD SOURCE 404" message.  So, after many attempts to bring up the site every way possible I gave up, went to bed, and returned to my mission this morning.  I was determined, the universe would not get the best of me just yet.  A computer restart later and a few more failed attempts and I think it realized that I was not going to be so easily deterred, so here we are...finally back on track, I've passed the test, my motivation will not wane.  Enjoy...**

As I stood in my kitchen tonight looking into my newly opened bag of Trader Jo (or as the bag aptly states "Trader Giotto's") frozen Gnocchi al Gorgonzola something occurred to me as it often does.  I felt the urge to write.  And this time, I was going to follow that instinct.  No more thinking about great ideas to put down and then forgetting them or being too lazy once I found my way to the laptop, no.  No more half posts marooned in my "drafts" tab for months or years (I still have a few unfinished just waiting for their day to come), no.  Tonight I was going to do it.  To write, to finish my thought and hit that orange "publish post" button that taunts me and challenges me to be secure, to have that resolve that is needed to put your thoughts and ideas out there to the world...even if the world is only one other person who decides to take a moment to look into that window into your head, the one you leave open for any passerby to see.  Yes, tonight I was going to pull those blinds back and show you, my friend, what has changed and what is to come.  

As I stared down into that plastic bag full of little frozen nuggets and cheese that reminded me of sliced butter, I realized that the energy I felt within my gut was not just the excitement of two hours of rehearsal time in the theater, the restlessness of four hours of class, the drive to at last sit down with my scene and actually dive into the character's life not simply stare blankly and struggle with my thoughts as I'd done numerous times in the last few days...no.  That feeling, that urge to run around the block was not simply the McFrape I drank at 6:50 to stay awake through what inevitably becomes my nap time (I know I'm not the only one that fights the urge to nod off during the tediousness of class)...no, it was much more.  Well than what was it you're probably asking...and yes, I was wondering the same as I dumped what would be my dinner into the skillet.  

Pure motivation.  Inspiration.  The drive that is ever elusive and that is as fleeting as it is sudden.  The one that is a crucial part of any creative process, of success, of life!  Sometimes I think I'm bi-polar, or that I'm ruled by the moon or something equally as inexplicable and crazy.  Seriously, I do.  Just last week driving to work I wondered why I was feeling so down and out, so lazy, so defeated with life and my progress through it for no real reason.  Heck, the week before I was on top of the world thinking my life was the bee's knees and that I wouldn't trade it for anything.  And here I was again, hit out of no where with this passion and drive and focus and lust for my art, for progress, for getting myself back up and on the right track.  Perhaps you don't believe my awe of my ridiculous sounding shifts in emotion, so I'll try to articulate the randomness of my strokes of...well... genius?  Earlier today as I was mapping out my month in detail in my planner, on my kitchen calendar, and in my google calendar (yes, I have to be THAT organized in order to attempt to live normally) I came to the realization that I had a whole hell of a lot of things to accomplish in the next 30 days.  So much that I started to panic, how was I going to manage it all in the time I had?  Anyone that knows me well, knows I struggle with time management and deadlines.  I just can't get done what others can in a limited amount of time no matter how hard I try...so how was I going to manage going to class 4 times a week for a minimum of 3 hours a day, fitting in rehearsals with my scene partner, rehearsals with my other classmates, not to mention my own personal work to be done on said scene, breaking down a new script for a short film, working, shooting the film, preforming in showcase, memorizing two sides a week for another class, updating my website, planning a 4th of July BBQ, buying a bridal shower gift and going to the shower, MC-ing a wedding, help planning the batchelorette party and then going, have my parents visit, and still find time to eat, sleep, and breathe?!?  

I was overwhelmed, and as I often do when presented with a daunting task ahead I napped.  Yep, I had a whole slew of stuff to do and work to be done, and my defense mechanism or coping strategy is to get sleepy, and loose concentration, and nap.  It's awful, it's so ridiculously counter productive but I can't fight it.  I even sat down at my dining room table script in hand in an attempt to force myself into productivity and within five minutes I was laying on the sofa.  Never mind the fact it was 2:30pm, the sun was out, and that I got a good night's sleep or that in a few hours I would be on my way to meet with my scene partner.  Fighting it was futile, and the nap won in the end.  Typical me.  And yet here I was, 11:45pm stirring the now soupy concoction on my stove full of energy and the sudden urge to sit down and get started.  To be productive.  To knock out my list of tasks to be done and strive for excellence.  

How strange my urges can be, and yet when I'm taken by one I must grab on with all my power and dedication and ride it before it passes through me and I'm left with nothingness once again.  Even now as I type and struggle to maintain the emotional high I'm writing about I feel it slipping...feel the day catching up with me, the night creep into my mind and my concentration wane.  My Gnocchi which was once hot and inviting sits half eaten and cold beside me and my train of thought once focused has started to loose it's goal.  Where was I going with all this?  Had my inspiration passed?  Would I wake up blank and fighting with my lack of drive again?  No, I refuse to be beaten by myself, I refuse to slip into quiet resignation again and again, not if I can help it, not yet.  

July will be crazy, busy, and if all goes well as I plan it to do, rewarding.  I refuse to waste any more time, I refuse to become one of those people who's dreams became past memories simply because they did not act, did not want them badly enough.  I may not have much to show for it yet, but I will be the best I can be, I will give this my all, and I will never be satisfied.  I may have chosen the hardest profession for my character, I may have to work that much harder to unlock the key to success, and I may have to overcome my deepest fears to get there, but I will succeed.  I will learn, I will grow, I will achieve.

The first step is this.  Is writing it down.  Is stating it for the world and myself, is not letting myself get lazy and letting the moment or thought pass by.  No more excuses, no more apologies, no more "starting fresh" yet again.  Most of all, no more promising myself that this time would be the last because all that matters now is action, is where I go from here.  Words and promises are hallow, I can say it till I'm blue in the face but in the end the only one I let down is myself, and I'm tired of being disappointed.

Hello orange button...today, I win.

What a waste...

As an Adult I waste a lot of time.  This really is not a new occurrence for me, more like a reoccurring theme throughout my entire life except now, as an adult, it's mine to own up to. You see growing up I had my mother's constant nagging and persistent eye to keep me semi on track.  "Time management" was a skill I greatly lacked and she was bound and determined to change that.  Well, needless to say, some things are not easily altered and my sense of time was one of them.  I have learned to come to terms with it as much as I can I guess, I mean I completely admit that it's still one of my most prominent downfalls and that I spend countless hours doing a whole lot of nothing productive even after all my attempts at productivity.  I am constantly writing out lists and assigning myself tasks to do on given days throughout the week, and I still find myself sucked into some mindless activity that was not one of those clearly stated on my post-it.  I guess this wouldn't be as big of a problem if I had a career path that didn't require self starting and motivation, but clearly in this industry wasting time is a luxury that I shouldn't afford.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not always a time waster...I have my moments of inspiration in which I will complete a number of tasks at a semi-normal rate of time, but these days are greatly outnumbered by days in which I complete no task at all.  Even now as I write about wasting time there are numerous other activities I should be doing such as breaking down my scene for my next company showcase, going to the bank, grocery shopping, choosing photos from some of my recent photo shoots to be featured on my website, tracking down the media clips of some student films I was in, updating my website, setting up a time to take new head shots with the agency recommended photographer (or at least going through her site to see the style they like and deciding if any of my friends' styles are comparable), looking through my old Europe photos to choose a couple to enlarge and put in the frames on my walls...see?  Lots that a normal person could knock out in one day but will undoubtedly take me a week of hard concentration and self discipline.

I used to get angry, upset, really bent out of shape when I didn't complete a task in a timely manner.  I mean, I still often get annoyed with myself for wasting a perfectly good day doing nothing but there is no one to blame but myself in the end, so I have to let it go and chalk it up to a day of relaxation.  This is me, this is my life, and if I don't want to be chemically reliant then I'm going to have to resign the fact that I am indeed a time waster. Granted, there are the rare days when I wake up early and semi motivated that I deem my days of productivity and indulge in my totally legit Dr. prescribed medication to help boost my time management skills a bit...but even then I'm prone to time wasting.

It's an amazing thing though, the amount of work someone can get done who doesn't seem to be sucked into mindless activities or distractions.  Just a couple weeks ago my parents stopped by on their way down to San Diego.  They stayed with me for a total of 23 hours and completed what would have been for me a month of work...actually, who am I kidding...in a span of 5 hours they managed to complete tasks that have been on my "to do" list for months AND have a leisurely lunch and head to downtown to dinner.  Amazing.  To them it was just another day, to me it was a complete re-decorating of my apartment and another reminder of how my life is so not normal and how much harder I must work at making myself a viable and successful adult.  I can't imagine what I would get done if I had their drive...or rather simply a "normal" sense of concentration.  It's crazy, I never really wanted to admit it but really the way I live my life is rather ridiculous.  Perhaps my late  college boyfriend was right when he'd say "you're prescribed it, it can help you, you should take it" to which I'd respond "but I don't want to depend on a drug, it makes me feel slow."  Probably not what people expect...but it does.  Granted I get twice as much done (still not as much as a regular person) but my thoughts feel slow.  It's strange, I distinctly remember one of the first days of trying my new regimen and us driving to school to study.  How as we drove I kept staring out the window and simply enjoying the view.  I wasn't thinking about anything but the landscape and houses and trees that were passing by and wondering if that's what it was like to be "normal," to only think about what was right in front of you not a million and one other things buzzing around in the back of your head.  It was foreign, and strange, and I didn't like it...why did I need to be "normal"?

...and now here I am...realizing that I'm just getting older and the days are passing with me sitting here doing a lot of nothing.  I go in and out of my moods and when I'm down I begin to wonder if I shouldn't give normal another chance...because this life of "relaxation" may be hurting me more than helping.  Productivity and being busy and pushing forward makes me happy...but I can't seem to get there on my own.

Even as I write I seem to loose myself in random tangents.  I sat down today in front of this keyboard with a  completely different goal in mind and as I often do, ended up at point G instead of B or C.  Funny how as I write my thoughts transform into something even I wasn't expecting.   Focus, I tell myself but now that I'm here I cannot remember my original destination.  I had no intention of sharing or discussing this topic although it is one I've been toying with for a little while now.  Well, I guess now it's time to stop thinking and pondering and wasting time...and take action.  After all, ACTION is what this is about...and hopefully someday it's the words that my days will be punctuated with.

End scene.

The constant in-between...the state of perpetual transition

Do we ever really grow up?

Will we ever truly feel our age or our maturity?

There are moments in time when I stop and realize the simple truth of my life.  I'm 27, I live alone, pay my bills on time, I go to work, I make plans with friends, I keep a tight schedule of my appointments and obligations, I choose which classes to take and determine my course of action when it comes to working towards my dreams.  I'm self aware, self sufficient, and self reliant.  I have a diploma that claims I have completed two degrees, a license that says I have been a (relatively) safe operator of a motor vehicle for over 10 years, and a thousand memories and photographs that prove I've had my share of good times, good friends, relationships, and travels.  And yet, even though all the signs point towards me being a grown woman approaching her 10 year high school reunion and her 30's, I still do not feel like the adult that I guess I am.  Granted 27 is still quite young in the scheme of things but really...is it?  By now there are people with homes, families, and businesses of their own.  People who have corner offices and are working towards their white picket fences and two car garages.  I'm not saying I envy them or what they have accomplished or that I feel like I am falling behind, I respect them and marvel at their lives, but I would not trade mine for theirs.  I enjoy my messy one bedroom, my constant struggle to clean it, to purge the stuff I hold onto for no good reason. I know one day I will get it right, but it's not today.  I like my car that will one day drink me out of house and home with the way gas prices are, I like how I feel so free as I get behind the wheel and hear the roar of the engine as I calculate spaces and time and distance and rush past exits and people.  I like my simple waitress job, with all it's good days and bad, all it's slow nights and how I can get buy working 4 nights a week just barely paying my bills and budgeting for classes or weekends away.  I enjoy that I am me, in all my optimistic days and all my horrible down times when I have to constantly battle myself to see the light, my over analytical thoughts and dark downward spins and times of carefree happiness.  As I get older the only thing that seems clear is that we are never quite at a destination, but rather always in constant transition, growing, changing, never quite grasping our age or the way we appear to the rest of the world.

I asked my mom when I was home this past weekend....Do you ever truly feel your age?

Her response was simple and honest...No.

Even when you have a child who's been out of the house for 10 years, who's graduated college and has far surpassed the age you were when you had her, you still do not feel that you are the number we use to define ourselves.  As if the number of years we are on this earth is really an irrelevant fact in who we are, further solidifying my belief that we never actually are grown up.  I guess I should point out, if it wasn't self evident already, that I have a strange obsession with the idea of being grown up.  As a child I wanted to grow up, like any normal kid, I wanted to be taken seriously, to be independent, mature.  When I hit high school this idea changed a bit, I no longer wanted to keep growing up, to keep aging.  I realized that this was my prime, that this was the best time of my life...I was a shy kid and hated it.  I wanted to be outgoing, to be social, to feel like ME and this quiet girl who sat in the hallways at lunch was not the girl I knew I was.  As much as it scared me I was determined to come out of my shell, and with the most amazing (and social) best friend ever I was able to learn confidence, to fake it, to put myself out there in situations where I'd like nothing better to do but to blend into the wall I stepped forward and changed.  I knew that what the adults in my life told me must be true, that this was the best time of my life and that I needed to enjoy it.  We only live once, and they had been there and were trying to instill their wisdom on me, trying to erase their past regrets by showing me how not to make my own.  So I tried to enjoy my last years of high school, and then college.  And before I knew it I was 23, out of school, on my own, lost, confused, with no direction.  Then 25, the age I had sworn I'd be married by, the age that seemed so old just 10 years before, still feeling like a confused little girl in this big world, working, living, discovering.  Not much changes other than the years that go by, people come and go leaving imprints on my past and my heart, friendships grow and die, and dreams and goals grow and change.  Eventually you let go of the life you thought you wanted and focus on the one you know you want.  And you change, you transition, you figure it out as you go.

And here I am...still wondering where the time has gone, still feeling like that timid little girl back in high school wondering if these are really the best years of her life, still striving to be the best me I can, still discovering myself and learning to accept my faults.  Some days I love my life and who I am...some days I wish I could get back the fun and carefree party girl me I was for so long and just last year...and some days I wish I could be someone else, start over, disappear.  Sometimes I long for that life I once thought I'd have, the grown up life 2.5 kids, a dog, a great husband with a steady job, a nice little home in the suburbs...but then I remember that that's not me anymore.  That wouldn't satisfy me now that I'm here, now that I have become who I am, now that I realize that I am the type of person who will always wonder what comes next, and never be satisfied with the current day in and out.  I love returning home, I love escaping this LA life, I love the beauty and the calm that engulfs me when I am there and the longing for the life I want in the distant future.  I appreciate the way that I always seem to become a little melancholy and introspective when my visits are drawing to an end, the way I come back to LA contemplating my life and direction, it may seem strange but that's how I am.  I'm a thinker, whether or not that is a good thing it's who I am.  And for all my contradictions and my conflicting wants, dreams, beliefs...one thing remains true, I will never ever feel like I'm done growing up, changing, transitioning.

I will always be me, some things will never change, but who says I cannot have many facets?  The brightest diamonds are those who sparkle with infinite beauty, cool and warm and brilliant in their clarity.  If we are like diamonds, then there is not limit to the beauty we can emit, and there is no shame in letting your different sides catch the light and radiate our curiosity, our joys, and our sadnesses.

Lighting that fire...

So today will be a really short entry...I swear.  Well...relative to the last ridiculously long winded few at least.

Anyways, today I talk about drive, passion, motivation.  Have I written about this before?  I feel like I have, or at least have touched on it once or twice, but it's a really really important aspect to any artist's life.  That inner hunger that shines through your work and tells the world I want this.  I need this.  I deserve this.  The force that propels you forward on your path to greatness, causes you to spend those countless hours thinking about how to be better, practicing, rehearsing, testing, trying new approaches.  Whether your median is a canvas and brushes, music and a mirrored studio, a microphone and piano, a camera and lenses, or your emotions and the stage...the only way you're ever going to get anywhere, the only way to really have that edge and shine is by having this inertia.

Some people have it naturally.  They wake up every day and feel that hunger, that need, that determination to go out there and become the best.  They have that focus that never sways, where that's all they think about, dream about, can see.  Where the rest of the world and life falls to the wayside, because all that matters is that they will succeed.  And they do.  Others have to find that drive each and every day, through interaction, experience, and remembering what it is that attracted them to their chosen art form in the first place.  Sometimes they discover it in a simple glance from a stranger, in their morning coffee, in a single raindrop that falls from the sky, in hearing a new song on the radio, seeing a new art exhibit, watching a new show.  I'm one of those.  I don't wake up with the passion, though I envy those who do.  I'd love to be able to block out the world and feel that confidence, that drive, I would love to be propelled through my days with the simple knowledge and hunger that I have to succeed; that I will succeed.  But, I was born lost in this world.  I've always been the quiet observer, going through my days as if I was simply watching a movie of the world around me, and I've worked so hard to be present in that world, an interactive movie so to speak.  So, I must find my drive on my own, I must search deep within myself, draw inspiration from the outside world and, when all else fails, fake it.  Fake it until it becomes true.  Much like confidence, don't lie, I'm sure you too, know that it's usually all fake.

So what am I getting at ultimately?  Well...I went to class today, I'll admit, a little less prepared than I would have liked.  I somehow got through it, struggling a little but pulling off my scenes with fairly good remarks still, something I guess I should be fairly proud of (although proud to scrape by instead of killing it up there isn't really the way to go about it).  After class the teacher asked to talk to me, and he suggested I look into organizing table reads or taking on a run in a show.  Granted, I did admit that I've taken a break in my theater company as of late, but he though working on an actual running show would greatly benefit me and my craft.  He said that I bring such truth to the scenes, but that he wants to see that fire behind it...yes, that ever elusive drive of mine, and that he thinks being in a show rather than Atwater's showcases or at least holding table readings of plays would really help me.  He also mentioned that he thinks once I do one of the showcases (that this particular school holds) I will definitely be picked up with better...or after finding that I don't have TV/movie representation at all: some...representation.  Too bad I'm not eligible for the upcoming showcase since I started class a month too late and now have to wait till November...but at least it gives me time.  Time and drive.  And just like that I left happy, focused, driven...the skys may be grey today, but I can see the sunlight.

I feel empowered, like I could take on--will take on the world.

(I'll find a good picture for here...it feels like there should be a beautiful inspiring image here right?)

Now...to find a way to keep this feeling, this inner strength, this focused excitement.  No more letting myself get distracted, no more letting others affect my world, I know what I need to do...and know how to do it.  Hopefully I too will be able to wake up some day and feel that fire inside, warming me, pushing me forward, drawing me into the life I strive for.

The funny thing about Hollywood...

Ok, so there are many things that can be considered funny or odd or just plain strange in Hollywood, or the industry in general.  Today I discovered first hand, how things are not always what they may appear.

So I went to my callback yesterday.  The funny thing about callbacks are that they tell you you should do exactly what you did before.  No major changes in acting or body language, everything just the way it was.  Well, of course, unless they advise you differently.  Same goes with clothing options.  Never forget what you wore to an audition because if you're called back...well, you gotta wear it again.  Great.  So remember how I told you yesterday that I went on a hike up Eaton Canyon?  Well...guess what I wore.  Yep, you betcha...the EXACT clothes I wore to the first audition last week.  At least no one can say I wasn't dressing truthfully for the part, but the bad thing about getting a callback the afternoon before the actual second audition...while at work...you don't really have the luxury of rushing home and doing laundry.  Nope, and, since I stayed up till 3 am writing about the callback rather than realizing I should wash my clothes in preparation...well, let's just say, I wasn't able to convince myself to wake up any earlier than 10 (less sleep = tired looking = nooo bueno) so the clothes went right back on my body dusty and previously sweated in.  Sexy hu?  So I get to the audition right on time, sign in, and the same casting director comes out and talks to the 5 of us that have gathered in the waiting area.  He's quite thorough in explaining what he wants from us, it's actually really nice to know EXACTLY what they are looking for, though I can't help but wonder then where does the creativity and ability to find something unique and good come into play for us?  I mean, they are literally going to get the exact same thing out of everyone...but I guess that's how they want it.  It's pretty much like the last...though this time the guy is sitting on a bench while the girl stretches, then she sits, he asks if she wants the trail mix, she says yes, notices no m&m's etc etc.  Easy right?  Again my new hiking boyfriend and I enter the room (this time I think his name is Sam...and I don't recognize him at all, though in the waiting room I did run into an actor I met at my work (though at first I did not recognize him, he looks different on fb and when I saw him last...) as well as noticed that the Asian guy in the Shell gas commercials seemed to have joined us) and we get ready to slate.  This time there are a number of other people in the room with us, the producers and directors and other important people I'm assuming, three ladies and two guys if I remember correctly all with papers on their laps easily chatting away in the hot audition room (why are they so warm by the way?  I would be so uncomfortable sitting in those audition rooms all day!).  When we went to slate one of the gentlemen told the guy behind the camera (the same guy that had been doing the auditions alone last time) that he had originally made a note on my picture, saying he wanted me for "tomorrow's" callback for "Eve," another Target spot with the same director and producer but through a different add agency.  So then Sam and I do one take of the new sit down hiking scene and then I'm asked to wait outside for a moment and then told that they will contact my agency about the next day's callback.

Crazy hu?  But exciting too!  I mean, it's always a good thing when the director or producer picks you out and wants you to come into an audition that you weren't originally booked for right?  I'll take it...though it was a little nerve wracking to know I'd be coming back to the same studio for a callback that I didn't even audition the first time for...totally not knowing what to expect.  So on the way home I called my agent to let them know to be expecting another call, and then went about my day waiting patiently for my phone to ring.  Then, mid afternooon, I see the familiar 323 number pop up on my caller ID...

"So the callback is at 1:00 at the Kathy Knowles Studios on 5th street (the same place I just came from), wardrobe is pajamas, you're going for the role of...young Hispanic mom."

Wow.

Young Hispanic mom...I laugh, sure I guess.  I mean I know I'm what's considered "ethnically ambiguous" and I'm truly flattered now that I know that my looks can apparently change the director/producer's minds about what type of character or look they want for their spots, but that was the last thing I was expecting to hear.  And on top of that...now I've fallen into the mom category.  I mean I'm not offended or upset about it, I'm just excited that they liked me or my look enough to want to try me out in an entirely different commercial...but it's weird finally looking your age after years of being told you look a good 5 plus years younger.  All those years I hated when people treated me as if I was a naive kid, and now, when looking young could potentially get me work, I am finally my age.  What luck.  But that's beside the point...

So here I am, having returned from my "young Hispanic mom" callback, and I'm sure you're all dying to hear about it, right?  Just humor me and nod your head.  So I get there, and there are a good dozen Hispanic women all dressed in pajamas, some with robes, some with cute little lacy camisoles, messy hair, fresh faces, a couple with beautiful messy curls...and then me.  The half Asian, half white girl, in sweats and a tank, hair just ironed perfect, makeup natural but there...and the same director/camera man comes out and I find out my first details of what the shoot is.  Basically he tells us, come in, messy hair, no makeup (ohhh crap), we're supposed to have just woken up, groggy/hungover/whatever.  Hand through the hair as we walk to the list on the easel, look down the list, look down at ourselves, then back to the list, yawn and cross off "shower" then leave.  Ok I think feeling kinda in a haze, time to hit the restroom and try to lighten the makeup more.  Eventually it's my turn and I enter the familiar audition room, which is cooler today probably due to the overcast nature of the day outside.  So I walk over, hit my mark, look at the list, look at myself, grab the pen, yawn and make cross off lines on top of all the others made by the previous girls.  "Ok, good, now this time try it..." more messy, more groggy, don't cover my mouth when I yawn, yawn saying fuck it as I cross off the "shower" to my long list of things.  Ok, I can do that right?  So I try again, try to be more groggy, sloppy, loose... "Ok, now try it..." crap I picked up the pen BEFORE I looked at the list....look at the list firrrrst.  mess up your hair while you look at the list.  Really say fuck it with the yawn.  By now I'm starting to over think...and the third take feels weird.  I try to act tired, mess up my hair, look at the list...oh crap I looked down at the pen....look at myself, think fuck it, yawn cross off shower, pen down leave.  I look up at the director/producer...silence..."more sloppy?" I ask...he's thinking...finally he says something to the effect of "alright we're good" and I tell them have a good day, and leave thinking unhappily to myself "awe fuck.  I messed that one up."

They always tell you that in auditions you never know what they are looking for.  You never know what they want or not, that you shouldn't beat yourself up too much about them.  They also tell you to have your epiphanies IN the audition room, not leaving them.  The later of which I need to work on.  I should have slowed down, I should have really stumbled groggily up to the easel, I shouldn't have looked down at the pen in that second, I should have taken my time...been more specific with each beat...was all I could think as I got into my car.  They liked me, they had me do 3 takes, they WANTED me to do well with this audition, really wanted me to work...and I messed up...ugh.  Why wasn't I all there, why wasn't I present?  Well, we all have our good days and our bad, the days when we are on point and the days when we're a little...off.  But why did my off day have to be today?  Granted it was my first attempt...but it was callbacks, and I needed to blow them away...perhaps by some stroke of incredibly good luck I'll get the second callback and another chance to really show off my groggy, sleepy, fuck it morning look.  Or, maybe not.

The moral of the story is that you really never do know what to expect...or who may be taking note...I definitely didn't expect to be asked to audition for a role that was nothing I would have ever been submitted for in the first place.  Proof that it's about the right place at the right time...that it only takes one person to see you and like what they see...and that it's a small circle of industry and casting professionals all working on many different projects, so here's to hope, here's to pushing forward, and here's to the unknown...