Apparently, You Can't Take the Girl Out of Hollywood.

I was going to call this entry "Too Little, Too Late." But then I thought, now isn't that a cynical title? Particularly when I'm not feeling all that cynical. Just reflective. The move, my missing cat, the holidays and the fact that one of the few parties I was going to attend I decided not to because I'm just not all that excited about seeing an ex with his new wife and their new baby and hear about the show he just sold. It's not that I wouldn't be happy for him if he was a nice person. I would! But he was a shit. Trust me. (If you read "Cake" you'd know what I'm talking about. Actually, you can read "Cake"... it's in the archives. Somewhere. And appropriately, the entry is titled, "Cake"). So I'm not happy for him. And that's where that whole karma thing happens and I wonder why so many shits seem to get it all. And then I stop wondering because I have enough to do with the move, my missing cat, the holidays and the fact that I'm still trying to get it all and am not even remotely close.

Luckily, I have to go to New York to train some people the day after the party. So I figure I can use that excuse to my advantage to write something clever on evite. Because on evite, everyone shares all that's going on with them. Usually, it's how fabulous they are or how they have too much in their lives to squeeze in a party. Well, not me. So this is what I'm going to write: "That's the night I'm going to be decorating my new house, with my new husband and feeding my new baby. Wait, that's not right at all. I'm going to be in New York. Sorry to miss it!" Even though I'm not sorry. Or am I?. I'm conflicted. In the old days, I would torture myself and go to the party to be all Molly Ringwald in "Pretty in Pink" when she doesn't want to let them know that they broke her-- did I mention that not only will the ex be there, but this is a Hollywood party-- full of Hollywood TV execs and writers and such? Which would ostensibly be good for networking... you would think... but not really, since every time I've gone to one of this particular person's parties I felt like I was swimming against the current. Or I got caught in a net or something. Because all those Hollywood types do is talk about their deals, their houses and their families. And well, I don't have a lot to say on that front. Maybe I should ask them if they've ever been to Cypress, California. And when was the last time they slept on a full size mattress? Something tells me, "no."

Did I mention that this week I called one of my friends who works consistently in TV but for some reason has never really tried to help me or offered to help me-- (which has made me feel bad... or badly whichever is correct. I mean, I got her a job once. A long time ago, but still) and I asked her if she could do something now that I'm FINALLY leaving the skincare line and with the move home can take the time to find something great in an area I like? Her answer, "I can only help get you a logger job or a pa job or something like that. And you wouldn't want any of those jobs." Like I want the jobs I've been doing? (I said that, by the way). "But they don't even pay," she continued. Well guess what? Galavanting about the country didn't pay either. That's why I have to move home. I told her it was a foot back in the door. That the only way to get back up is to get in. Somehow. And I needed help doing it. Because the whole blindly sending a resume thing doesn't work. At all. You need a connection. She said she had to put her kids to bed and then she'd call me back and we could talk about it. She didn't.

I'm in Portland again right now. Staying at another nice hotel, the Hotel Deluxe. Which does make the whole not liking your job at all thing much better. The entire not wanting to do it and feeling lost and confused as to how this happened? Well, it is a bit more tolerable in a comfortable bed with a flat screen tv and good decor. The Hotel Deluxe is decorated like Hollywood. Go figure, I leave LA to basically get smacked in the face with it. Maybe it's a sign. To show me that I can still be a part of it no matter where I am. You think? Well, I do. Maybe that's why I didn't sleep last night. No, instead, I looked on writer's blogs who had sold books. I looked for what made it different for them. It usually came down to luck, a hook, or some form of financial support in the form of a husband who let them quit a soul crushing day job to write. But I'm sure there a variety of other reasons which I fell asleep before discovering. That's why I'm going to write a show first.

I got here late because I thought I'd already be moved to The OC. So I had the travel agent book me out of John Wayne airport in Orange County. Brilliant, right? It took me three hours to get there. So I missed my flight. So instead of exploring Portland, I sat at the Oasis Restaurant slash Bar in the middle of the airport and had dinner. It was weird. It was quiet. Yet in the middle of things. I found it confusing. I missed the chaos and hustle and bustle you find at an airport in a big city. Seeing all sorts of different people from all sorts of different places trying to get somewhere-- all the different cultures. It made me sad. I like culture. I like meeting different people. I met alot of them last week when I was looking for Will. If you ever want to meet your neighbors, lose a cat. Or a dog. I'm sure that would work, too. People call you. Talk to you. Introduce themselves. Invite you to parties. And share numbers of pet psychics. Everyone seems to have one. I think people have abandoned fixing themselves and have moved onto their pets. I was thinking of hanging up signs next to "Reward - Lost Cat" that say, "Reward - Lost Career." I wonder if I would get any calls?