Hey guys. Sorry I haven’t written this week. I have been feeling like this Degas. Actually, someone at work told me that my expression matched hers. And then I took a closer look at the painting. Lo and behold.
I’m an Aquarius. And while I don’t put a lot of stock in Astrology, I have read “Your ruler is Uranus” in almost every ‘scope about my sign. Recently, I was reading that Uranus is up to some funny business. So. Maybe that’s it.
Anyway, I truly am using all my emotional reserves beyond their limits. Instead of being brave, putting myself out there, auditioning, going to classes, hunting for work, and trying to build my career and life here in LA, I just pretty much want to hide under my covers for a really long time.
Like, a really really long time.
So. Thank you, Uranus. Or whatever things are kind of aligning right now. I don’t want to sound like a sad little sack of poo. It’s just a tough…patch. I’m gonna go to bed now. I’ll write more soon…
It’s been a whole year for THIS IS LALA LAND! I considered doing some kind of hilarious (to me) giveaway where I send one lucky reader an assortment of some of the things I’ve featured on the blog (for example: the cactus, the onesie , the condoms from yesterday…). But there wasn’t time to put anything together, so instead I figured the second best thing would be to bake a tiny cake for my laptop and sing “happy birthday” to it!
So, I didn’t do that either. What I did, was wake up for work, grab a bottle of wine from the fridge, and toast you guys from my awesome laundry room! Woooooo(I did not drink that whole bottle – I just had a sip)oooooooooo!
YOU GUYS ROCK. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!
I’ve learned so much through all of this — a little about writing — mostly about life. And I enjoy sharing my stuff and hearing about your stuff. I hope we can continue this lil thing we got going on…
I just got home from a long day of work and improv practice group and my thoughts are a Waldorf salad (who’s idea was it to put mayo and walnuts together in something!) in my brains.
So, in lieu of cleverness: a portrait of free Planned Parenthood condoms (there are 40 more where these came from!) from my recent pop-in. So pretty… the way the sun defines their nooks and crannies.
Be safe. I love you. But not like that…
I was walking to the Hollywood Trader Joe’s after work one day when I came upon the crumbly star of Franklin Pangborn on Sunset and Vine. Crushed by a bulldozer, lurking nearby. So many pieces. Itty, bitty, loose pieces.
So, naturally, I took one. A tiny memento of great significance. To Franklin — and to me. I wanna be on that walkway someday. Growing up in PA, ignorant of any and all Hollywood lore, I believed each celebrity was buried under their star. Vertically. In the sidewalk. I wish I would have voiced this theory to my parents or some other wise person. (I believed it for a really long time!) I still think about it, although things fall apart when living celebrities are honored.
There are some blank stars along the Walk. And what you can do is grab a Sharpie and get to it! Like the “421 Group”. No need to earn your fame through years of failures and successes. Make that sh*t happen for yourself. Today!
Here is my loot. I have the little rock tucked next to my plastic “Best Me” Oscar. And my fake million dollar bill. And my Actors Equity pin. And some random string that may have floated there on its own accord. It’s becoming an “I can do it good” shrine to my hopes and dreams.
Gotta start somewhere…
This is the day that my sister died.
That’s a picture of the three of us, looking like children of the Dust Bowl — in Pennsylvania. When Autumn arrives, I am reminded of these things: 1. Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte 2. Clear skies, crisp breezes and colorful crunchy leaves (I will forever think of the east coast version of “fall”) 3. The day.
For some reason, this particular one is becoming a followspot upon all the things that I’m struggling with right now. Anything at all frustrating, stressful, heartbreaking, bitter, blue — illuminated. I feel like remembering this day would put all the other crap into perspective. But it seems to make it worse.
4. Financially Strained
5. Feeling Dumpy
9. Coconut water
10. Hate my hair
1. No one’s into me — in all the Universe. Including Pluto. And other Universes
2. My eyelids are connected to the center of the Earth
3. I am just looking for a reason to see if I could murder someone with my bare hands, Whistles
4. Should I finally bite the bullet and become a stripper
5. Feeling Mama Cass – without the singing and the famousness
6. Wanting to drown myself in macaroni and cheese
7. Wicked Witch
8. Retail Therapists Anonymous
9. Cocktails +
10. Hate everything
I feel like I’m just wading through things, a bit. Waiting for the same stuff to feel less heavy. Something like that.
Remember this song? It was playing in my head as I rode in the back seat of my director’s SUV all the way to Rancho Santa Fe. *Cuz I didn’t know the way…
I silently resigned myself to traveling a long distance to shoot what would amount to one line (and most of my footage spent wearing that there gas mask on my face.) But surprise – Rancho Santa Fe (which sounds like a medium-spicy sauce at Taco Bell) — is awesome. In an old-money, private, polo, racetracks kinda way. Somehow, my busy Sunday combined my two favorite things: acting like a working actor AND spying on people’s houses. (Fun fact: The Real Housewives franchise was supposed to have its very fetal beginning in Rancho Santa Fe, but the show was denied access. So they went to Orange County where they were gaudily accepted.)
Meet Tristan. He’s the reason this guerilla-style shoot happened here, at his parents’ estates. Tristan is a fresh 21. He drives his Mercedes >50mph over the speed limit at all times. He tickles the ivories with Clair de Lune on the grand piano. He owns 10 iPhones, 10 of which are cracked to smithereens. He whips up anything you want in the kitchen and serves it to you “in a proper dish”. He has a fireplace in his bedroom. And also a lounge, a large bath and some broken trophies and awards. He has a sharp sense of humor, ice blue eyes, sandy blonde hair that easily whips into a Kennedy-esque curl. This is a normal day for Tristan:
I felt like I identified more with his little sister, Belle. We both used to hate purple, but now we like it. We both are fans of Nutella, especially in crepes. We both think her hamster is cuter than most of her Littlest Pet Shop toys – but not all of them. *You will need about 2,000 more of those toys to even try to compare to Belle’s little girlfriend who has “almost all of them.” That’s Belle with their dog, Hollywood.
We shot quick and dirty and headed back to LA. A few shots from set…
Another one in the can.
I am so tired, I can’t even think of anything other than closing my eyes right now. So I made a little movie of the sunset. Watching the ocean is comforting to me. And so is this song by Nat KC.
A little end of the evening slow dance with the sea.