i affixed myself with warnings, adorned my limbs with labels and stickers, "damaged," "fragile," "handle with care;" sharp and heavy block letters on sticky neon paper. ...to no avail. one cannot trust a transporter. it is only a delivery, and likely one of many.
she said, "this is ideal. i am not disentangled either." we discussed the webs we'd woven, the spider-fine threads we'd found ourselves wrapped in. i was proud such topics no longer led me to tears.
i would not call it falling, but i stumbled. so quickly and surprisedly, i fumbled and tripped towards her, for her, the opposite of my plans- the opposite of what i thought i was capable of. short of breath i warned again: "i am not yet healed. i would be a project. your investment may not yield a solid return." she said that was not my decision to make. it was a good answer, and it sufficed. there was no discussion of the vice versa. as is like me, i did not contemplate that.
she came without advisories. there were no labels affixed to her limbs, not "danger," nor "biohazard." after i crossed a line wider than a river, her truth arrived out of the blue and she quickly shipped herself off in an unmarked box.
i am an empty package yet again, further damaged by my travels, edges worn through and corners weakened. the one i filled myself with for years has long since removed her contents with no plans of refilling. apparently this is what happens when you try to move on. you wrap yourself in "caution" tape, taking heed for others. one takes a boxcutter and cleanly slices open your edges only to peek inside at the potential, the space you might let her fill. the tool is placed back down, she has seen what you could give. she travels on.
well, here i am, kinda... (music video)
Category: Music
the first music video i did in l.a.... i'm in the red shirt, in the house party scenes. got there too late for the bikini part of the day b/c it was a last-minute job. there are no ass-tastic dance shots of me like there are other girls, b/c i am just not trashy like that these days.
apparently the video is only available online in crappy quality unless you get it on itunes, so i'm damn blurry and you probably wouldn't have recognized me had you seen this on mtv; which, oddly enough, if you watch mtv you probably will. (or you can you tube it, where it's at least full-screen fuzzy.)
last winter, my friend mandy went raw-vegan for a month. she ate nothing cooked, nothing processed, and nothing that came from an animal- basically she ate fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds. while i had eaten at raw-vegan restaurants before, and enjoyed them enough, i thought she was kinda kooky for doing that. it sounded pretty gassy and bland.
this summer, i met my friend dani when i moved to l.a. she had worked at numerous raw-vegan restaurants and was all about how great the lifestyle was. while i knew what she spoke of had merit, i thought she was kinda kooky.
dani was my connection to my gm job at juliano's. when i started working there i said to her, "i can't imagine ever giving up cheese. or flour." doing that sounded kinda kooky.
i started my job and within two days of eating only raw food, i stopped wanting cooked food. it shocked the hell out of me. i went home with plans of snacking on cheese and crackers, and gravitated towards figs and nori instead. i dropped a couple pounds really quickly, which i didn't want to do, and ate as much cooked/processed food as possible on my first weekend off from work to gain it back. the flour-laden indulgence wasn't nearly as fun as i had assumed it would be, and i called it official quits, for the moment, on cooked food.
it's been about a month now that i have been nearly 100% raw. the only cooked food i've eaten is peanut butter, plus i have had both wine and vodka. on the vegan tip, i have eaten raw fish twice. my body really loves raw fish, and about an oz of wild salmon does wonders for me; i believe that above all else, we must listen to our bodies to tell us what they need. dairy, even raw dairy, no longer sounds good. i already didn't eat beef, pork, etc., so that wasn't an issue. as for carbohydrate-laden flour products, i craved pizza, bread and pasta on and off for almost two weeks, but more and more it seems absolutely crazy to eat food made by machines, and i slowly stop even contemplating it.
my body has changed. my mind has changed. oddly enough, even my spirit has changed. the strangest thing about raw, living food is that the more you eat of it, the better it tastes. i can replicate my old habits- triscuits and cheddar have morphed into italian-seasoned flax crackers and nut cheese- and i swear, plenty of the raw-vegan versions taste better than the originals. i bear no guilt over cows being overmilked and i don't have to swallow my disgust over the fact that all dairy contains some amount of pus from said over-milikng; no chicken beaks are being cut off for eggs i am eating; no hole in the ozone layer is growing due to toxic runoff from the factories that produce the frankenfood i once called dinner. this is why raw foodists are pretentious, i realize: b/c we are doing a tiny little bit to save the damn world, and we are doing it every time we eat.
suddenly i have so much more compassion. i analyze every situation from my past and revisit it with love and objectivity, which has led me to realize i have been unfair to many. i have been compelled to make peace with people i didn't even realize i had created war with. i've stopped thinking of life in terms of what will benefit me most, and have begun contemplating instead what i can do FOR life- mine, and the planet's.
every time i eat lately, my body nearly cries out in joy over the food i consume. it requires minimal energy, produces nearly no waste, and has never touched metal or other carcinogenic materials. what i put in my body is pure and unadulterated and remarkably close to how god or nature or whatever you want to call it, created it... and it makes me feel incredible. i know that it is this autonomy which has enabled me to be all right alone; i haven't had sex in months, longer than it's been for nearly ten years, and it's ok. it's not ideal, but it is apparently how life is supposed to be right now, and the concept of sharing something so real and personal as my body with a stranger is practically laughable.
once upon a time i studied witchcraft, and became an initiated priestess. i had a coven with whom i practiced. i found spirituality, community, and connectivity. this is kind of like that. only better.
goodbye, 31st birthday. you didn't involve going out, or anything else normal. instead you centered around artfully crafting my words to keep my job and get paid what i deserve. then i got a gift i've long wanted, making whether or not she remembered i wanted it fairly inconsequential. later there were enough messages to answer that had cracking a bottle of mourvedre not seemed simpler, i could have had a hollywood night. and at the end of the day, i got an ecard from my parents with this note:
"Wonderful opportunities are in the future--we just have to wait until they find you-- We are so proud of what you have accomplished and the person you have become-- You have made us very proud parents and you will always have our complete support-- Always, Always
Mom and Dad"
this is how things come together when i free myself to however things will come together. i find gratitude. and it saves me, again and again.
more really good shit
Current mood: accomplished
Category: Life
Yay for today. With trepidation I approached my boss (the owner) for a large raise b/c I can't live on what I started at, and he approved it. I now make 33% more than I did yesterday, and I'll be able to pay my rent without issue. Score. I got booked for a Nike commercial tomorrow- just as an extra, but whatever, it's a Nike commercial and pays better than "normal" extra work. The call time is 5:30 am, and I should really be sleeping. Odd that I only get chosen for projects I don't think I'm a fit for- we can now add "sports" to "African American" as far as categories of modeling gigs so far go- and I'd never even heard of the famous baskbetball player starring in the commercial, but hey, I'm on the excited side regardless. The tv show I auditioned for last week wants me to meet the director next week, which is a whoppingly large promising sign. It was phrased to me at the audition as a final detail that would occur only if I were the one chosen. If I get this, my life will involve power tools, and that would be hot. I confirmed the details for the Animal Acres gala Saturday, and Raw will have a table there of desserts, meaning I get to attend the otherwise-very-expensive celebrity event. Lastly, I got a killer freaking haircut tonight; what this man can do with a blow dryer should be illegal, or at least sold on the black market. I've crossed the line into a being a long-haired person I think- it's barely barely at my shoulders- and it feels so accomplished. I've grown a shoulder length head of hair since my mother got cancer and I fell deeply in love with a small, nervous girl who lived across the country. My mother is recovered. She and I are getting there. Now to choose three full outfits that somehow make me look like a believable sports fan, then set the alarm for *gasp* sometime just prior to 5 am.
i had forgotten about your wounds. until you mentioned one tonight, i had forgotten your burns and blisters and occupational hazards. i had forgotten your gauze, your tape, neosporin, allergy salve for the inevitible rash that would prevent healing, caused by the gauze and the tape or the air or the very things that harmed in the first place, there was never any knowing- these are your wounds, frequent and lasting. i knew them too well.
i cry silently now. the energy for sound has long since been lost, i understand now how you can grieve so stoicly, how tears can just fall and fall while no true pain is spoken. i cry silently now. even that much energy, i should not afford you.
the tattoo on your forearm i also forgot. recently i passed a building with a similar set of three lines, paralell, and it took me minutes to make the connection. i knew it was familiar but your arm's image had grown distant until i saw its decor on concrete.
the you i inked upon me holds its color even as my skin darkens. the you that is etched in my mind loses details as if i were losing my sight. i cry silently now.
palahniuk shorts, celebrity animal savers, and firing people
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers
today was the kind of weird day one cannot help but go home and write about. i remember once at ozumo, when this couple- two customers- asked me really loudly, right in the middle of the restaurant, to have a threesome with them, and all i could think was, "is this really my life? THIS is my life? i am some girl managing a fancy restaurant, wearing fancy clothes, who gets approached for a threesome by a business yuppie dude and his marginally hot gf in front of a half full restaurant and a very attentive (for that moment, at least) sushi bar? how did this become my life?"
so yeah, every day is like that now. strange, surreal things happen constantly that lead me to wonder exactly HOW this became my life, how my life became this.
my day began just after noon with an audition for a movie short co-written by chuck palahniuk. on the upside, isn't it cool that the first acting audition i got called for here was for something famousish? i think so. on the downside, isn't it a shame i'm not really an actress? i mean, i've acted, and the world said, "you can act," when i did so, but i am by no means an actor. i'm a model, ya know what i mean? (sorry, had to. it fit.) and a dancer, sort of. anyway, when the director dude said, "slate yourself," i didn't know that meant give him my name and (fake, duh) age. (i'm 24 these days, btw. ssh. i totally pass.) so, i don't think that went terribly well, though i did have to make up a scene and talk a lot, and i think i created a nice story. but i think i did it in a writer way, not an actor way. i left feeling fairly lame.
then i went to work, where i secured some details to have RAW donate dessert for a celebrity animal rescue organization event in a couple weeks. i had met these two guys at the restaurant last night, and when we got to talking i found out they run a large farmed animal sanctuary north of l.a. they told me about the event and i said i would see if juliano would let me donate food. he said he would, i got in touch with them, and now, boom, i am going to be bringing dessert for like 500 people to animal acres' 2008 gala. the guy said the chair was excited to have us there- turns out the chair is daryl hannah. other celebrities who will be there include bill maher, kevin nealon, thora birch, daniela sea, alicia silverstone, and ed begley jr. one can only assume that if i'm donating dessert, i shall also be attending the event. i can't really wrap my brain about that, and seriously, what would i even wear?
lastly, i had to fire someone tonight for the first time in my life. the cool part of being the general manager of a restaurant people travel across the world to visit of is that, well, i'm the boss at a restaurant people travel across the world to visit, and it's pretty fun, especially compared to other restaurant jobs. the bad part is, i'm the bad guy when a bad guy is needed. in my efforts to organize the place- which is overall going fabulously- i hired a host staff (there wasn't one), and one person was just NOT going to work. tonight i let him go, and i just can't get over how similar to a breakup it was. all night long i had that feeling in my stomach that you only get when you're about to break up with someone. then it happened, and it was just like my early 20s, when i broke boys' hearts b/c boys are yucky and i always hit a roadblock with them b/c of that eventually. he begged. he pleaded. he said he would do anything, if i would only give him one more chance. he said he would change. i apologized, told him it just wasn't working and this was how it had to be. i had to eventually get up and leave, to get away, and he still trailed after me. breakups blow. firing people blows too, b/c it feels like a breakup. i kept wanting to tell him he'd make a great employee, but for somebody else.
now my day is done, and i don't particularly believe it as having been my day. i'm so tanned and muscley-skinny that i don't recognize myself half the time. people keep saying i'm really nice, though i am the toughest, most hard-edged i've ever been. i wake up every morning and wonder why the world wants me to be alone right now. suddenly i eat only organic, raw vegan food five days a week. i feel like one of those people who thought they needed a nose job as a teenager, but eventually they grew into their nose and it fit their face perfectly. i am waiting to grow into my new life.
i've been wondering what this parched feeling is, and i think it is the well of my forgiveness beginning to run dry. southern california is notorious for its lack of rain. that could be why as i repeatedly attempt to put out the internal fire of your last escapade, it is clay-filled, muddy water i pour upon it. it creates smoke and smoldering but does not stop the burn.
i miss your clothes. i miss the way you flirtatiously say hello to everyone as if you've been waiting desperately to see them just to feel their eyes light up at you, as they inevitably do. i miss how every time you smiled, i realized you had the most perfect lips anyone ever owned. i miss your scrawling all-caps ideas left on random notebook pages. i miss the way you call me babygirl. i miss knowing when i will hold you again.
your game of tug o' war has endlessly chafed my skin, and i can only be grateful that my hands are finally growing calloused. you tell me to let go, and i do not bother to explain how many times i have done so only to be roped back in. you know this. you tell me it isn't fair, isn't what you are trying to do. i know this. i persevere because i know the person you are, underneath it all, is not this, will be nothing like this.
we are climbing opposite sides of the same mountain, conducting paralell lives invisible to one another. mine is simple and i find respite in the stars above. your path has roots protruding cruelly from the ground, you are constantly stumbling over them and stubbing your toes, you focus on your feet and how every speck of your sand underneath them is a baby rock that never got to grow. i am on the other side with sun, when you water and nurture those grains into life i will have the heat that they need, but you cannot reach me. yet.
today i accomplished numerous "firsts" by way of landing an audition, then getting the gig, to be one of the dancing girls on telemundo's "descontrol" music show.
1) i now get to add hispanic to the list of ethnicities i am not in reality, yet have been paid to pretend to be.
2) i was at a larger studio complex than i'd been in before, l.a. central studios. getting from the front desk to my audition involved multiple buildings/elevators, a visitor pass, my id being checked and verified, and numerous phone calls between security guards.
3) it's the first job i've gotten through l.a. casting, which is the main industry job board for acting and modeling that EVERYONE and their uncle applies for everything through. you're listed under your agency, but you can submit for jobs yourself, and the casting directors can contact you directly, which is what happened today.
4) if the "swing" video i was in hits mtv and/or bet around the same time as the "descontrol" show airs, i'll be visible on numerous national television stations at once. i won't be doing anything important, mind you- i'll just be scantily clad dancing around acting like i'm having a great time- but it's a cool thought nonetheless.
the oddest part to me is that this is the 4th modeling job i've gotten since i arrived in l.a. three weeks ago, and every. single. one. has been "ethnic" work, where i have been the only alternative "rocker-chick" type involved. i keep applying for jobs that ask for my type, like a new pink video, but i keep just landing ones not looking for tattooed/alternative people. i'm not sure what to make of that, though of course i am very grateful to be getting work so quickly. coming in a close second in odd-ness is that my mother is quite caucasian and unfortunately rather racist towards mexicans, and may not be terribly thrilled that her daughter can pass as one.
accomplished