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The phrase "tryin' times" has always made me laugh for some reason...I don't know why, maybe it's because I picture an old Southern man with a cowboy hat with a blade of grass hanging out of his tobacco-laden mouth saying, "Yep...them's some tryin' times." However, after this past week I think I sympathize more. This week was the epitome of "tryin' times."
People being reckless=creating a new kind of list=The Wreck List.
1) My cell phone disappeared in a bale of hay: This is what I get for going to a fall festival and not reading the labels clearly and drinking quite a lot of cider from the, "Cider With A Little Somethin' Special" pot. Seriously. This past weekend Brian, Terri, and I made our way to Pasadena to see Ashley and celebrate her roommate's birthday. The backyard had been turned into this gorgeous fall landscape, complete with tea lights, fall food (pumpkin ale, brie-and-cranberry tart, mulled wine, pumpkin pies, and er, alcoholic cider...), a beer pong table, a beautifully painted banner, rocking chairs, and yes, bales of hay. Five hours after, on my way home I realized my phone that I am painfully anal about, was missing. And since last week it has not been seen since.
2) My car was totaled: Irony of ironies is more like it. The three of us had been having conversations during the week about how we had never been in a "serious" car accident and what type of car insurance the other had, etc. etc. On Wednesday I was supposed to go with Brian to meet Terri on UCLA's campus...while I was getting ready to go, something stopped it. I don't know what it was. Divine intervention? I don't know. But all of a sudden I didn't feel like going anymore. So, since Brian's car was in the shop, I gave him my car for the afternoon. And since I didn't have a phone at the time, I settled on the couch for an afternoon of writing and an apple and goat cheese salad. Suddenly, Terri Google chatted me, and all she said was, "This is not a joke. There's been an accident." And I cannot tell you how my heart plummeted. I felt my throat constrict and my eyes instantly fill. Brian had been driving through a light and this woman in an SUV sped on through to turn left and, without yielding, slammed right into my car, completely tearing the front. The car is gone. Like, there is no hope of reviving my dear Scoot-Scoot. But thankfully, by the grace of, well, something, Brian is fine. I am fine. When really, after this, it could've been much, much worse:
3) My 'I' key on my computer isn't working unless I punch it.
4) My pajama pants shrank, making me live up to middle school nickname, High Water: Shut up.
5) The fire from the stove almost took off my eyebrow when I was trying to extract a piece of carrot from the middle.
6) I turned 23 and almost had another crisis.
Reading numbers three through six makes me smile and marvel at the fact that these were my biggest concerns this past week. On my birthday, some of the people whom I had counted as my "best and closest friends" didn't call or text or Skype, and when my Netflix stopped working or the day, I almost had a tantrum. And then, after this week, I took a close look at my priorities.
The thing of it is, this 'Wreck List' seems bad. But really, it highlights the good, the great in fact. I'm alive and well (I mean, I could cut down my intake of bread and chocolate covered pretzels, but whatever). I have a job that I like a lot. I get to create. My real friends and hysterically quirky family love and support me. And at least I own pajama pants. So really...in spite of this list, I have a lot to be thankful. And the trifling things, like a so-called "friend" not staying in touch, a broken cell phone, or even a dead car...don't matter in the grand scheme of things. And so, as I sit here with a plate of falafel, wearing a long pair of mismatched argyle socks, I'm oddly content and ready to start anew.
:)
Paula Vogel told us about the list. Well...I shouldn't type 'list' in all lowercase like it doesn't matter. THE list. The God List.
A God List, she said, was a list in tens. The top ten theaters where you want your work produced. The top ten playwrights you love. The top ten people you'd dream of working with. It's a good concept, no?
However, post-Kennedy Center life has me making other types of God Lists--the top ten male actors I'd like to have a, how do I classily put it?-a dalliance with, the top ten reasons why I shouldn't run over LA pedestrians (they suck, plain and simple...one of them kicked my car two weeks ago), the top ten places where I could possibly be 'casually discovered' like Charlize Theron, the top ten reasons why I shouldn't evade sleep...it goes on.
I told Abbey about the concept of the God List, and she said she probably needed one..."The Top Ten Reasons Why She Shouldn't Kill Herself This Week." I laughed, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't make that same list while in the midst of rehearsal/Corn/exams/college life. However, I realized I hadn't made a not-so-random list in awhile. You know, a list that gives you perspective. Makes me smile. And so, here is my latest:
The Top Ten Reasons Why I Will Be Happy:
1) If I am not happy, I will laze on the couch and not go jogging/power walking in my new turquoise work-out shorts. Which means they will never be seen. Therefore, I will be happy because the world needs to see my baller turquoise workout shorts.
2) I'm where I said I would be. I followed my dreams.
3) My friends, spanning from Alaska to Texas to New York to North Carolina, prove that they are amazing to me everyday. The Skypes, the e-mails, the snail mail, their constant support makes this transition so much more bearable.
4) My family, crazy pants and loving, keep me grounded. Example: I went on my first audition for a television show last week, and later, my dad called and said: "Just because you're auditioning doesn't mean you can forget to call your aunt and tell her you're sorry you missed her in Phoenix. You're not Jennifer Aniston. Only she could do that. And even then she probably wouldn't."
5) We have a police station one block away from my apartment. Therefore, no one is re-enacting what they saw from Law & Order: LA.
6) I am only a hop, skip, and a jump away from the beach.
7) Friday Night Lights. The end.
8) My roommates are so encouraging. Even in the throes of unemployment, my PhD-student roommates always find time to forward me potential jobs they think I'd be good at. Terri tells me everyday that she believes in what I can do. We have dinner every night. Brian plays 'Words with Friends' with me (granted he kicks my ass, but whatever). It's good.
9) I know I can always come home.
10) Everyday, even when I get super frustrated, I make myself remember why I'm here. And that I'm capable. And then things are alright.
:)
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.
Aaaand I'm in Los Angeles. I guess I had this mindset that "people are people" and that the culture shock wouldn't be too bad. Sitting at my gate in Charlotte alone showed me that clearly I was not going to be in North Carolina no mo'. However...I feel as though I need to get my bearings and get to work. If there is one thing that rings true about this place is that while cool, interesting, laid back, and breezy, everyone is indeed, an actor. I have to keep telling myself, "Well, what did you expect? It's time to get to work."
Thankfully I stumbled upon a little Sunday goody that made me feel much better. I am a huge fan of random blogs, Twitter-feeds, etc. I love the Daily Beast website and today I clicked on the "Horoscope" section. Normally I don't really pay too much attention to horoscopes--one of my best friends loves astrology so she fills me in on the pros and cons of my sign :) But this gave me some comfort on a quiet morning on the West Coast:
"Scorpio: This week isn’t short on excitement—labeling it drama is entirely up to you. With Mercury in the final throes of retrograde, your professional profile or public image may take a few hits, and you may worry that your glory days are behind you. They’re not. Still, it’s healthy for you to ponder this. By Wednesday, Pluto, Jupiter and Venus form a grand trine, eradicating fear, and freeing you to operate on faith—you recall a time when you lived on an exclusive diet of the stuff, which reignites a fire in your belly. After a retreat, you rise phoenix-like by Saturday, daring to excede expectations, even your own."
Reigniting a fire in my belly and rising like a Phoenix? I do love that Harry Potter reference, DB :)
