Revivial of the Veggies

I wake up every night at a certain time. It's always around 2:05 a.m. that something, a feeling, a thud in my chest, and the fact that somehow, my right foot is poking out of the comforter, making me aware that I am way too tall. I have been in California for almost a month. I realized that I told a friend of mine today that I've only been here for two and a half weeks, but when I got back to the apartment later, I realized that my concept of time clearly needs updating.

I would be lying if I said that everything is perfect. I am not making poignant and subtly-funny movies yet. I am not the new head of SNL, nor am I the head of my own company. My socks are still unmatching, and lately I've been feeling awfully sluggish and cranky due to an unfortunate trip to Phoenix. However, as I was sitting in my bed tonight, contemplating what I wanted to peruse on Netflix, I realized something: I haven't been writing. I haven't been reading as much. I haven't eaten vegetables consistently. I haven't worked out in awhile. I haven't emoted a lot and allowed myself a lot of good cries over the fact that I miss my friends and family so much that sometimes I feel like my stomach has been punched. I haven't given myself enough credit. And I haven't been able to tell my brain to shut up, which results in nights like these.

Re-reading my last paragraph makes me realize: I am happy I am here. I made a big move. I am allowed to feel that 'L.A. Hustle' and apply to six jobs a day...but I am also allowed to feel, period. It's alright if I have a bad day. It's not alright if I take out my frustration in little ways...such as foregoing broccoli (which I love) and drowning my sorrows in Cheez-It's and Diet Coke (Ah, soda, my enemy. We meet again). Frankly, if I'm an asshole to my body, it's not going to make this transition any easier at all. So maybe, just maaaybe, writing again, remembering that edamame is indeed, my friend, and being a human when it comes to emotion, will make this better.

And this anxiety, this, freak-out about not managing to meet an imaginary deadline due to the snide remarks of people who really, in the grand scheme of things, do not matter and are probably unhappy because they are alone and have five chins: it needs to be vanquished. I love what I'm doing. I love that I am an actor and a writer. No one said it was easy. I feel like if it were easy I wouldn't want it. I read The Help during the summer and I cannot help but smile every time I think about this line: "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." I am going to say this to myself every morning and remember that I am a lucky, lucky girl to get to hustle around trying to get where I want to be.


1) I will write more.
2) I will do the one thing that scares me each day: drive around someplace new every day. The fact that someone yelled, "Pick it up, North Carolina!" while they were tailing me will not haunt me anymore. Rather, I will instead wish him adult acne for the rest of his life and move on.
3) Be grateful.
4) Be happy.
5) Go hiking.
6) Create.

P.S. That picture? Totally my first In-N-Out Burger experience. Not pictured: the fabulous chocolate shake that could probably cause miracles to occur.