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...

Dawn...the promise of a new exciting day

So it's about time I posted an upbeat and light entry...the last couple were a bit too...well...for lack of a better word...deep?  Granted, they didn't ponder the meaning of life or the vast expanses of the universe and our place in it...but reading back over them they are a bit too melancholy and confused even for my own liking.  They are truthful to a point, and as has been pointed out to me that's the entire point of a blog right?  Yet even in their truth they only seem to skim the mere surface of the feelings that they are a product of.  But enough of that, like I said, it's time for something to smile about...an entry that is wonderful in it's entire meaninglessness.

So I stayed up till the sun rose this weekend.  That dreaded hour when you realize that soon, the world will be waking up and you haven't even laid your head down to rest.  I hate sleeping the day away, I used to do it a lot as we all did back in college...and even after.  But as I've gotten older it's something I like to do...only on occasion.  I don't mind staying in bed if I have a good reason, or if it's still early enough to get a couple good hours of sunlight, or if it's not every day...but I try to avoid being awake when the sun comes up for the most part.  And you know what's odd...I don't know why.  It was daylight savings, we lost an hour of sleep so it was relatively easier to do than on any other given day...though I doubt I would have had an issue if it hadn't been either.  Regardless...I got home right before the sun threatened to peek it's sleepy head over the hills, and I was amazed by the wonder of it all.  Dawn.  It's such a magical time of day, the world seem peaceful and new, full of wonder and promise.  I mean it's been written about a million times, and countless artists and photographers (who are undoubtedly artists in their own breathtaking way) have attempted to capture that feeling, to freeze the exact moment, immortalize it forever...but try as they may, there is nothing like standing there experiencing it.  There aren't even words that I can grasp that can express it, we've all felt it before, but I think all too often we forget it.  We replace it with sunsets and scenes and memories full of life and emotion, forgetting that the most amazing time off all is the time when there is nothing else but the quiet splendor of the world, where you feel...new, fresh, and so very empowered.  Like you're the only one in the world seeing the beauty around you, the silent moments, the calm before those first rays break across the sky and the world turns again.  If you haven't experienced that magic lately, I truly advise you try it...but make sure you're back inside with the blinds drawn before the dawn breaks, and the magic is lost.

That's how life is.  It's a series of moments, some simple, some grand, some trying, some wonderful, all strung together to create a wonderful, beautiful, melody.  Each unique to it's owner, the soundtrack of our individuality.  Today was one of those wonderful days.  Simple and amazing in it's simplistic ease.  Woke early (well relatively early for my new current life schedule but late in comparison to most m-f workers) and forced myself out of bed to face the sunny morning and meet up with some friends for a quick and easy hike up Eaton Canyon.  It was nice being out in the sun, getting dusty and sweaty, and chatting about who knows what it was we talked about.  Then I had to rush to work because, like usual, I cut my time a little close and didn't leave that buffer that I've been so much better at keeping lately.  Regardless, it's Tuesday and Tuesdays are typically slow so I wasn't too worried.  Turns out I was right on time (30 min late for my shift, but perfect timing for my first table) and it was an unusually good Tuesday.  We were fairly busy (usually Tuesdays drag on and are really quiet).  Maybe because the weather was nice, or maybe because the universe decided to smile down on me either way it works for me.  Lol.

Anyways, shortly into my shift I get a call from my (new substitute) agent telling me that I got the callback from my audition last week!  I guess before I go on I must elaborate on this amazing good news.  In my last entry I ranted a little about not being sent out or booked for an audition lately, and I guess someone must have been listening because not even 30 minutes after I hit "publish" for my last post I got a call from the new agent telling me I booked an audition.  I was going for the part of "female hiker" and I was given a window of time and address to be at.  That's it.  So, Tuesday morning I woke up, put on some shorts and a tank top and hit big 5 before heading out to the west side for the audition.  Turns out buying hiking boots was completely unneeded as I doubt they were even captured in the audition tape but I didn't know what to expect.  My first true acting commercial audition.  So I arrive and I walk into the small waiting area by the studio labeled "TARGET" and quickly take in the 7 other actors waiting as well.  All guys.  All Asian.  I sign in, and within moments of sitting down the casting director turns the corner and asks me and what I assume was the first of the 7 guys on the sign in sheet to follow him into the audition room.  He then proceeded to tell us what he wants us to do...you're a couple, and you're hiking.  You hike over to here...and you've reached your destination.  Take in the view for a moment, stretch...but small, don't lean over or touch your toes, and then he's going to ask you if you want trail mix.  You say sure, you take the trail mix and stick your hand in, you look and notice he's eaten all the m&m's...again.  You turn and look at him deadpan, he notices and gives you a sheepish grin.  Oh no!  I immediately think, am I not Asian enough?  I mean clearly they want an Asian couple, am I too...mixed?  So we hike, we stretch, he hands me the trail mix, I see no m'n'ms I look at him annoyed.  Ok, so this time stand closer together, you've been together for a while, there's no pretense, there's a familiarity about this, and when you are annoyed and looking at him be natural, shift your weight...cross your arms... Awee crap.  I'm too stiff.  Damn it, why must I be so controlled all the time...

And one take later we're both down the stairs and walking out the front doors.  I find out my audition partner's name is Richard, he's from...Canada?  Man, my memory is so bad...but yeah, I think so.  We chat a bit for as far as we both have to walk in the same direction, then part ways.  I later see him in one of the new Allstate commercials and laugh to myself, but that's the industry...I guess I should get used to it.  I end the audition thinking "well that was a good learning experience, better luck next time...god I shouldn't have looked at the trail mix right away, I should have said sure and kept looking at the view, let him hand it to me w/o looking THEN look down and notice...man, I messed that one up....oh well, it was my first time..." and after a couple of days and with the callback date of the 15th drawing close...well, I pushed it out of my mind.  I figured the 15th as a callback day meant that if you were called back the audition was going to be the 15th...not that you'd be called back ON the 15th.  And what do you know?  Surprise surprise...it's the 15th (well technically now the 16th) and here I am, stunned and so happy/nervous/ecstatic/shocked that I got the call.  Who knows how many people they called back...it doesn't matter at this point.  It's my first callback!  My first step...

...it's also 3am and even though I have plenty more to ramble on about...a good night's sleep before tomorrow's long day is in order, so I'm cutting this one short...more to come soon, I promise :). 

Happiness...

So again I must apologize, I know in my last post I promised I would not neglect you my internet friend, that I would be better and more diligent at spilling my guts to the vast unknown of cyberspace and hope my rantings could be an escape from the reality of the every day for anyone who happened upon them.  Well, we can't control the world around us and sometimes the best laid plans go astray.  In this case, will all my good intentions I could not prevent life from taking it's own course and throwing a bump or two in my road, an emotional writers block so to speak, and making my good intentions on keeping this blog current...well...kinda a fail.  But I know you understand, life is not all fun and games and we all know too well that it can at times, who am I kidding...most the time, be a tough road.

So what have you missed?  Well, I can tell you this, you haven't missed any more fun audition mishaps.  My commercial agency hasn't sent me out for anything since that last Asian mother role, a problem that I need to address and hopefully fix.  I've been patient though, my agent had to take a leave of absence for family matters and in her absence they have brought in a new girl.  I suppose the transition is a little rough hence why I've excused the lack of auditions but it's about time that I be sent out again.  I do need to update my head shots once again...since they didn't like my most recent ones and I'm using a photo that is currently more than two years old, so that may be a problem.  Either way I need to really fix this issue in the coming week, and stop being lazy.  Pro-active is the key when it comes to auditions and work in this industry...

I have however enrolled in a new set of classes.  Financially burdening but as we all know, classes and continued learning is a must for all actors and artists.  You are never good enough, you must always be improving, perfecting...and these new classes are awesome.  They are more audition based, it's not about learning the method or breaking down scenes over the course of weeks, it's quite self testing and really helpful.  I'm also looking into joining playhouse west or another company in my quest to become a stronger artist.  I've also started dancing again...and I suck.  I really mean it.  It's kinda funny in a way, and quite frustrating since I hate being bad at things.

Yes, I'm one of those.

You know the type, the ones that are not fun to play games with because if they are loosing the get frustrated and often quit, the ones that have to be the best.  I hate it, seriously.  Being a competitive person is not a wonderful quality, I mean you never hear people say "oh I love that they are so competitive!" and being in a foul mood because you aren't good at something and just want to quit is so not how I want to feel when up against a challenge.  Luckily, I'm also quite stubborn, so quitting isn't really an easy thing for me to grasp, instead I'll force myself to suffer, to be frustrated and annoyed, to see it as a challenge to myself to become better, to be the best.  In this case, I know I won't be the best...but I can't stand being one of the worst...so I'll keep going, I'll keep struggling, until I either get better or my head explodes from the pressure of it all, not literally of course.

And that's another thing I've been thinking about lately.  Self improvement, and happiness.  Two concepts that battle one another, yet you would think could work in harmony.  Think about it for a minute, when have you ever met someone that has a healthy balance of both?  I mean we're all taught that we should strive for self improvement, that we should see the qualities in other people that we admire and then work to "better" ourselves by embodying these traits.  But then again, aren't we taught that we should learn to accept ourselves as we are, that to be happy the first step is to love yourself?  If we love ourselves and are truly happy with all of our shortcomings, then why would we feel the urge or need for self improvement?  It's a baffling concept that I still don't quite know the answer to and struggle with often, partially because I've always had this crippling need to be better, and this extreme desire to be happy.  It may not seem like it, but it's a tiring battle, convincing oneself to simply accept your own faults and let yourself be happy, and this magnetic pull to analyze your faults and emotions and what the correct way to handle or fix them may be.  I suppose I'm not the only one that goes through this, I've written countless posts over the years (in less public journals) about the search for happiness, the keys to happiness, and my lack of it.  Happiness comes from within, I know this, but how am I expected to reach happiness when I'm always looking to be better?  And why should I want or need to be anything more than I am?  How do we achieve true self acceptance?  Even now as I write I don't know the answer, I'm just as confused as ever...perhaps it's not a good subject to breach for this entry.  I'm a bit jumbled and on the verge of talking myself (and you) in circles.  If can't even make sense of my own thoughts believe me, I don't expect you to either...so maybe I'll just skip it for now and revisit it when the timing is right.

So, for the rest of this post I'll stick to less philosophical matters, such as simply discussing the oddities of living a life opposite of the norm.  Yes, I'm talking about the freedom to sleep in, to enjoy the sunlight hours, to skip rush hour...sounds great right?  Well like anything, it has it's advantages...but it also has it's drawbacks.  Self motivation for one.  When you cross over to working the non traditional hours, evenings and weekends, for a specific reason or to obtain a goal you have to work hard not to forget what it is you were hoping to accomplish.  It's all so simple for those 9-5ers to go to work, then come home and just...be.  To leave work at work and have the rest of your time to do what you please, it's really liberating actually.  I've always struggled a bit with the whole time management self motivation thing.  Anyone that knew me in college can attest to that, I'm easily distracted and like most, a bit of a procrastinator.  Unfortunately, this is not something I have the luxury of anymore...hence why I got that last tattoo, a constant reminder to not waste all my time.  Then again, I do think it's really important to waste some time.  I mean come on, we all need to enjoy life...they don't have that saying for nothing all work and no play makes johnny a dull boy and dull is not something that is in my DNA.  Anyways, back to the subject...I've become much better at self motivation, self regulation as I like to put it but it's something that I still have to constantly work on.  The ability to put yourself in check when you have to, but to also let yourself slide a little when you don't accomplish quite as much as you had hoped.  It's a work in progress.

The next thing about having an opposite schedule than everyone else is...well...that you kinda become a homebody.  This is something I never expected, and I'm still struggling to get used to.

You see, I've always been a really big proprietor of getting out of the house, enjoying the day, taking advantage of all that nature has to offer.  Yes, I love dancing in the rain, taking walks in the sun, sitting in the park and basking in the glory of living and life around us...it's the little things that make me happy.  The things that I believe humble us, make us feel small in this world.  We get too tied up in our own lives to stop are realize that living is not as complex as we seem to make it, it's a gift, a phenomenon, and we should remember to just...live.  I think people outside of cities have an easier time remember this, heck, I even fall pray to getting wrapped up in my own little problems and forgetting that the world is bigger than this damn city.  But that's why I like to get out of the house...or at least liked to, until recently.  I don't know exactly what it is, maybe it's that it's not as special now that I'm always free when the sun is up, or maybe it's that there's so few people to go out and enjoy it with since everyone is at work when I'm free...no, that can't be it.  I used to go outside alone all the time, I like being alone, and I used to work more than one job so I'd never be free even when others were...is it a side effect of growing up?  Is my affinity it remaining in my apartment during the day instead of enjoying the splendor of the world around me part of getting older?  Or have I simply forgotten why I love it in the first place and fallen into a slump?  I don't know, but I do know one thing...writing about it is making me want to add that to my list of "self improvement."  Lol, yes, I think I should start discovering the parks around my house and doing my scene breakdowns under the shade of a tree...when the weather is nice at least.

Lastly, this most obvious...friendships.  Working nights and weekends makes keeping your friendships strong so much harder and so much more important.  I've never been super good at keeping in contact with people, networking (which is so very important in this industry) is not my strong suite, and now that I don't get to see my friends regularly out and about it's so much more pressing to try to keep the doors of communication open.  Thank god for text messaging is all I can say.  And hey, maybe I'll become a superb networker because of it...highly doubtful, but it's another thing to add to that list.

So there you have it...I've successfully written an entire novel about nothing important and most likely nothing remotely exciting to you.  I guess this post was more for myself...but next time I promise, I'll write about something slightly less self soul searching, and yes, I'll even include pictures.

Why hello again world!

So everyone has their coping mechanisms, some people like to face their problems head on and loudly announcing to the world and anyone within hearing distance here I am!  You can't get me down!  Others pretend they don't exist, shoving them far back in their minds in hopes that the issue will simply fade and dissipate on it's own accord.  Some will have very public mental breakdowns or call up everyone and their mother to gripe about it, and others disappear from the world to silently fight the demons alone.

Me?  Well I kinda do a combination.  I cycle through the different modes, trying on each for size before finally giving up and letting myself do what's hardest...wait.  You see, I've been the quiet solo fighter who retreats from the world most my life.  I think maybe when I was younger it seemed the most noble, to fight the silent battle internally, to be at war inside but at peace on the exterior.  I mean that's what the tormented hero is like right?  She smiles but her eyes are filled with eternal sorrow.  Yet what they don't tell you is fighting alone is tiresome and treacherous, and when you're the type of person who takes on the burden of life silently and secretly, it can also be crushing.  I found that out a number of years back, discovered what it felt like to be drowning in your own secret sea of misery, helplessly treading in the deepest darkest pool hidden in a cave where no one can see you.  This is the point in which many grow tired, just give up, let the pool drown them and stop seeing the glimmer of light that is hope, that is life, that is the joy of living, the beauty of this miracle that somehow and for some unknown reason carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen molecules bound together to create this amazing phenomena.  Luckily for me, I can be a little too sane, too rational for my own good (and yes, at times I am still crazier than I'd like to admit...I am still a double X chromosome and we're prone to craziness) and succumbing to the black waters was not an option.

I found my life raft, my dangling rope with which I managed to hoist myself back from the dead, back to the land of the living and I've never wanted to fall into that cave again.  Granted I still fight my own secret battles (old habits die hard), but as soon as I feel myself slipping I remember those desolate days and I reach out desperately trying to cling to the rocks and branches around me, to remind myself that I don't have to fall in the hole.  That there are these things to support me, to help me carry the weight on my shoulders.  And I cycle, I look outwards rather than inwards for strength.  I post inspirational sayings, read articles about what it takes to be happy, I push it away, I pretend it's not there, I retreat from the world...but only a little.  I allow myself to stay home in pajamas all day, to watch hulu, to (as much as it kills me) be unproductive, to ignore phone calls and texts, to have the mental meltdowns but only to a point.  I'm almost hypersensitive to the warning signs, though the causes are often buried so deep in my subconscious that I can never really figure out what it is that caused it.  I just wake one day with that feeling in my gut and dread in my heart, knowing that it's begun again and not knowing why or when it'll leave.

Opening up.  Opening up to the world is important, I will never be an open book, I will never fully wear my heart on my sleeve, I will never just let you in without question.  I'm guarded, jaded, pessimistic, and I pride myself in at least believing I'm fully self sufficient.  These are things I know, I also know I don't want these to be things that define me, and I also know that behind each one, there's another thing I am but may not want you to know.  I am hopeful, I'm a secret romantic, I don't like being so uptight and structured, and I want more than anything to be simply happy.  So when I've let myself dwell over, waste time and energy over, and cut myself off from the world for long enough, I do what never seems to get easier.  I reach out.  I make phone calls, I admit to the world and those few my guarded self has carefully chosen, that things aren't ok.  That I'm not the strong, happy, optimistic person I try to be, that I want to be.  That yes, I too have bad days, and yes, I'm vulnerable, weak, and human.  You may be thinking "well duh, of course you are" but in my twisted and semi delusional mind I'd like to think I'm not, or don't come across as such.  But I have to remember it's ok, it's ok to not be the perfect person I want to be, that if I'm not careful I will kill myself trying and that in the end, it doesn't matter.  In the end we are only happy when we can accept ourselves and simply live our lives, when we realize we don't HAVE to be a certain way, and our lives will never travel that straight path we think they should.  And it's OK, all we have to do is remember to live.

Sounds simple, right?  Yeah, right.  As much as I think I've got it figured out, as much as I think I know the right way to think, to live, I'm just as blind and clueless as anyone else. As much as I know these simple truths, I am still too suborn to just accept them.  So what's the point of this post?  Well, I haven't written in a bit, breaking my two posts a week goal...or rather I should say I haven't posted in a while.  I've written...but they've remained as unfinished drafts still sitting in cyberspace purgatory if you will.

Yes, I've been a recent refugee in my own apartment, hiding from the world and the ever persistent problems that I pretend don't exist.  They do, and I shut down, and I become afraid.  I retreat into my own mind, which we all know how powerful a thing a mind can be, and I start obsessing over things I shouldn't.  I start pulling away from the living and opening up to people, the world, becomes increasingly difficult.  So I caught up on my TV shows, spent plenty of time in my pj's, stared at my dishes and messy room, and I've written posts, or started to, and when almost done I've paused, and suddenly and irrationally I've become afraid to finish, to hit that "publish post" button, to expose myself and my feelings to the world...and why?  Why do I have this crippling fear of putting myself out there?  It's retarded, and I can recognize it, and I fight it constantly, sometimes I win, sometimes it wins.  In the end though, I must win, I must move forward, pull myself back up and out of the web of insecurities, I'm an actress after all, and the most powerful tool an actor can have is the ability to be vulnerable.  To put themselves out there, to fall to fail, to break those ridiculous walls that we all put up around us, so here I am.  Step 1 of a infinitely long 12+ step plan to become a better artist, a better person, and well, life fully and happily.  I must first conquer myself, and break this stupid cycle of feeling like my life isn't progressing at the speed that I for some ridiculous reason think it should (when I absolutely know there is no "correct" speed) therefore becoming depressed therefore loosing motivation to push forward therefore not progressing at all, and shooting myself in the foot.

Retarded, but so true.  It ends now, I've cleaned my apartment, I've re-budgeted and rearranged my goals and now I'm back... apologizing to the world for abandoning it...and for the time being, determined to take two steps forward before once again stumbling one back.

Speed...

I should have been a race car driver.

So I was making the usual drive home from work tonight, and like I often do, I started to wonder why car speedometers go up so high.  I mean we cannot hope to test out the theory that our cars can  reach the maximum velocity posted on those little dials without running the risk of a very pricey ticket and possibly a license suspension and car impoundment...so why tempt us?  Seriously.  It's quite unfair and misleading to say the least.  most cars can't even reach the speeds in which they claim to on those little dashboard lit monitors that sit there staring back at us, tauntingly.  I'll be the first to admit I love speed.  And, no, not the inject into your veins, twitching on edge type of speed, but the sheer joy of passing though space and time at a velocity that we as humans aren't really meant to experience if not for our amazing advancements in machinery.

I don't drive nearly as fast as I used to, and that's saying a lot.  Granted I used to drive a little 4 cylinder pickup truck, and man did I love that little ford ranger even if it topped off at 103 though it's speedometer claimed 120.  Even if I had to floor it to make it up the first hill on the freeway on my way to school each cold morning without being passed up by everyone else on the freeway.  I even managed to get my first speeding ticket, which I'm not proud of since getting caught always ruins the fun, in that little gutless ranger.  Ah yes, those were some good times...so you can imagine how disappointed I was to recently, eight years later, get my second speeding ticket in the long history of my driving career.  Needless to say, when now my average speed topples around 75 or at least has in the last 6 months.  Of course, when the cop paced me I was a good 11 mph faster than that, but I had been driving at 65 for most the week.  I'm not saying driving fast is ok, or safe, or good, for most people in fact it is a very bad idea...and I'm not claiming to be above the law or a superb driver who should be allowed to drive recklessly, but I am saying that getting a ticket for going 86 (and luckily being cited at 79 since I didn't try to cry or lie my way out of it...I knew I was going faster than appropriate according to posted signs and I'm not one to deny when I am in the wrong) when my car's speedometer goes well into the later half of the 100's kinda sucks.  Granted I've never really had the guts to test it out above 120, and even then it was only for a couple seconds on the deserted highway late at night on my way to Vegas or whatnot, but it's such a tease is it not?  I mean with the truck I could only go 103 before it hit it's automatic shut down valve and slowed me to the 90's, a fact again I discovered on a 4 am trip to Vegas back in college, but with my present ride...who knows.  Shit, the speedometer boasts 150, and even if, like the truck, it has an automatic shut off about 20 mph less than that...that's still 130.  A speed I'd love to experience but am no longer, nor ever was, reckless enough to attempt.  Not that I think it'd be dangerous to myself or those around me, I'm not stupid, I wouldn't get close to those speeds if there were other cars around who may make sudden lane changes or whatnot, but because there is no way in hell I'd make it to that speed without getting a ticket.  Not at all, not with my luck.  I was lucky enough to go the last 8 years with nothing more than a rolling the stop sign and a traffic light ticket.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a very safe driver.  As my friends, yes, they might tell you I tend to scare them or drive a little too fast, mostly because they remember my college days, but at the same time they will, for the most part, vouch for my control.  I drive fast, and am on the aggressive side (have you ever driven in LA??  Aggressiveness is an absolute must!), but I also enjoy driving, I like the speed, the judging timing and distance when passing cars, the slipping in and out of lanes, the sensation that your're going fast yet are so relaxed, so controlled, so calculated.  Did I mention I should have been a race car driver?

So when it comes down to it...why do they make cars that can go 0 to 60 in 5.4, or 3.3, or better yet 1.97!?  Seriously, and I don't even drive a car that amazing and I feel cheated.  Here I am driving around a beast of american metal and horsepower, a gas guzzling v8 that boasts a 0 to 60 of 5.5 according to sources, and driving home from work at 1:30 am going a steady 80 mph wondering why on earth we can't go the speed that our cars can take us...and what the point of tempting us with such notions of glory is.  Good thing I recently purchased pilot lessons, which both excite and scare me.  Granted I didn't enroll in an actual pilot school rather purchased the discounted voucher for amateur lessons which probably are the most basic and least exciting yet, but still, perhaps it'll quench my ever present itch to push my car to it's limits...or perhaps I'll just have to enroll in NASCAR school, or a street driving course in which I'm allowed to drive as fast as I please, letting the speed take over and reveling in the glory and power of such a simple thing as 8, or 10, or maybe even 12 cylinders and the ignited gas compressed within them.  

Did I miss something?

So it's 1:30, and here I am home from work and about to put in the shortest entry ever due to my overly tired state which 30 minutes ago was very much the opposite due to some caffeine induced magic.  Tonight was the strangest deadest Thursday night ever, seriously, I made more Monday night (by a dollar) and I thought Monday was bad!  Usually Thursdays are pretty good, at least a steady amount of people coming in for drinks or whatnot, but not today.  It was strange, like I missed some huge holiday where everyone stays at home with the family or goes out of town...seriously the streets were deserted, even the ramen place that ALWAYS has a line out the door was relatively quiet, but at least I got off way earlier than expected.

Had my second audition today, again for print, and I'm not holding my breath to hear back from this one either.  Not that they took photos of my hands again or anything like that, but simply because I am not quite sure I really fit the bill for this one.  It was a Target add, and the idea was "Asian mom, real to attractive, casual" and despite my sincere efforts to embody the look of your average Asian mom...well...even I probably wouldn't pick me as a first choice in that category.  This time though, I knew how it was going to go...and it was quite a bit less of a fiasco then the last.  I did find that my posture was too good though, because the guy taking the photos was a bit annoyed at my inability to stand "less straight" which upon returning home I practiced in the mirror.  Now I know  exactly how I'll stand next time they want me to look more "casual," leg out, hand on hip, relaxed...so the audition, although perhaps not a success in the booking a job sense, was a success in the future audition, notes to self, learning department.

This was partially the cause of my current borderline delirious state of mind as it was a fairly early casting call causing me to have to get up and get ready earlier than my usual.  That mixed with a rough night's sleep and some friendly festivities with a couple pals the night before, which leads me to the next topic...

Friends.

It's funny how as we grow older things change.  I mean, it's a given that things change, that we change, but it's funny how it seems to happen so slowly and secretively so that one day you seem to wake up and think "wow, when did this happen?"  And there's no real answer either.  I used to really push against the idea of growing up, I remember at 17 thinking "this is it...this is the best year of my life, this is my youth, things will never be this good again."  Yes, I was always quite self aware, and yes, I did realize what I had when I had it.  I knew that that year, my senior year of high school, the last year before I was "officially," in legal terms at least, an adult was a year that I'd want to treasure.  I was in no real rush to grow up, leave home, I knew the bubble I lived in was a privilege and that you could never go back once you were forced out and that it was inevitable.  I loved that year, and I was right.  Things have never been the same, and rightfully so.  And now, ten years later I'm still just as introspective but it's harder now.  I forget, get caught up in life and the day to day, so every so often I take a moment to really stop and think and examine my life and the world around me as it pertains to me.  Ok, so I'm lying...I don't do it every so often, I probably do it 20x more often than most all of my peers but that doesn't lessen the shock and awe I feel every time I do it.

The last time this happened was probably a week ago now.  I was washing the dishes, looking out at my living room and it occurred to me, as if it was the first time (yet surely it was more like the 101 time), that man, I am an adult.  A full fledged, unquestionable, adult.  You're probably thinking "well no shit," I mean I'm 27, have my own apartment, pay my own bills, worry about going to the gym and my nightly regimen of night creams, I mean yeah, I know I'm an adult but theres a definite difference between knowing and really truly realizing it.  It's like knowing you have a belly button versus realizing that you have a belly button because some doctor tied a knot in the cord that used to attach you to the lining of your mom's uterus in which you received all the necessary nutrients intravenously through to create all the amazing intricate organs and systems within your body that function on their own cellular level without a single thought from you which allow you to sit there today, reading this very blog.  I think you get the point.  But being an adult is a funny thing, is it not?  I mean on the one hand you are, or at least most of us are, and all of us SHOULD be, self sufficient, self sustaining, independent and unique entities with completely complex and vastly different ways of experiencing, comprehending, and viewing the world.  On the other hand, we're all really loosing touch with what it is to be alive, what it is to be...us.

Ok, so maybe that's a bit extreme.  But I did say I was going to talk about friends, did I not?  Well last night I was blessed by the company of some of the people that somehow through the years have earned or fallen into this label and yet, I see all too rarely.  I mean these are people that I used to see or talk to on a daily basis, who I've shared countless memories with and who have been there through so many different highs and lows in my life, and I theirs.  Yet, as we get older, these are people that I never talk to or see anymore.  People who have entire different lives that I have little knowledge about, people who are really almost like strangers to me except for this shared bond formed over the years and held onto by our kindred experiences.  And here I was feeling like it was my responsibility to entertain them, to make sure they were all having a good time, that their trip out to "kick it" would be worth it, and why?  Why did I feel this self imposed pressure to show them a good time?  I mean they are my friends, the same people I used to do nothing at all important with and somehow shared the best times of my life.  It shouldn't have mattered, I shouldn't have felt like the dive bar up the street where we ended up wouldn't be fun enough because in the end, it was.  It was fun because I was there with friends, and that's the point right?  It doesn't matter what you're doing, how exciting it might look from an outside perspective, what matters is the people you surround yourself with, the ones who can turn a random trip to the neighborhood bar into a full fledged flashback to younger more carefree times...a trip to 7-11 for a beer run, board games and laughter, and end with a slumber party in the living room of my "adult" one bedroom apartment I call home.

It's funny, after how much we grow and change some things will always be the same.  Really, we haven't grown and changed as much as you think.  I mean, usually, when I'm not getting all philosophical about my life and removing myself from the moment to look at it from an outside perspective, I don't feel any different than that 17 year old who didn't want to grow up...except that I have.  But this is besides the point.  I think what I was attempting to get at is that it's too easy for us to get so caught up in our own lives and the day to day that we start loosing touch.  Loosing touch with the people around us that have meant so much to us.  Granted friendships change and friendship circles shift as we go, and it's hard to keep in touch with friends and it does take a conscious effort a lot of the times to keep those bonds strong, but it's necessary.  Every time I hang out with old friends I'm reminded of why they were so important to me in the first place and how lucky I am to have such amazing people in my life.  I've shared so much of myself with these people, memories that I will always cherish have been made with them, and they have been an instrumental part of creating who I have become.  I may miss my youth, the crazy times, the endless days of being carefree, yeah I have a lot of other things to think about now, but being around friends ensures that those times shouldn't be missed, because they are alive and well in the friendships that stay strong.

Looking around my place now I realize that it's not so different than all the other places I've called home.  I mean I'm still pretty messy...not like I was in college messy, I have grown up a little...and my friends still crash on my floor after a night out.  So here I am, at the end of a day that seems infinitely long, having written another ridiculous essay of an entry when I had promised brevity, and would you believe it, what I ended up ranting about was not really what I had initially planned on going into depth about.  But I guess that's what this blog is after all, right?  A place to pour out whatever random train of thought I decide to follow, and hopefully not confuse you in the process.  Are you still with me?  Perhaps not as I can barely keep a grasp on what it is that I want to say or have said up till now, and before the rambling becomes less and less coherent I'll end with a good night.

Life is good, and it's almost 3 am now.  Sheesh.