No More Milk For Free & Happy Birthday to Me!!!

Okay, so today was a good day. It was the first birthday in a long time where I didn't think about how old I was. I didn't mind when I got outed at work as being 39 and yes was verified to be the oldest person on the show. Working for three story producers (writers) that are 26, 33 and 34. Hey, at their age that's where I was. So it's not like it's all that surprising. Well, not to me. They were a little more shocked. I think Grant's mouth actually fell open in a cartoon-like fashion. But I love Grant or am in deep like. He's a quiet kind of funny and he's beginning to get me.

So my birthday today consisted of phone calls and emails from all the people I care about. And it was nice to be cared about. To watch my phone vibrate on my desk whether I could take the call or not. It really made my day. I was happy with the LA Times piece, happy to be working on "Driving Force" and happy to be able to go to yoga at 9pm. And that's what I did. I didn't feel the need to do a traditional celebration type thing. I've done those. Being closer to where you want is a much bigger celebration just in and of itself. Seeing movement. That's the biggest gift I could get or ever ask for. And it's been a long time coming.

Pre-birthday I didn't want a cake and today it didn't occur to me that they would even do something at work until I saw them hiding the cake. Which I thought was very sweet. As was the song and the fact they kept a tasteful amount of candles on the cake. Truly, they are just really good people. Really. When Eric Medlen died (one of the drivers on John Force's team who passed away Friday of last week after having an accident the week prior in Gainesville), the way that they banded together, genuinely cared about him and the Force family and ralllied to show support by creating a reel in his memory was truly astounding. It makes me feel so very, very lucky to be there.

Because putting in time and giving up their weekend and just doing the work for him wasn't even a question. For anyone. No bitching, no complaining. Which there shouldn't be. But I've been at jobs where there was even when a tragedy was involved. It made me feel proud to be there. My boss, Brian, kept thanking us for staying late and working to pull clips. To me, it wasn't even something worth thanking me for. It was something I should absolutely do and did want to do. And sincerely? I know everyone on the show felt the same way, but still they thank us. It's pretty great... not to be taken for granted.

So, on this day. A very good day, I am saying goodbye to my blog quite happily. My blog was a great way to get out what I needed to when I wanted to-- to keep myself alive as a writer, so to speak-- and it recorded a time that is frankly a blur to me. Almost unbelievable. And sometimes a little bit shocking. And considering the people I work with know little about me yet think my stories are fascinating-- and they've actually only heard but one blip on my story radar-- it's a good reality check for me. (No pun intended). That I do have stories to tell. I have lived a life. And it's not over yet. It hasn't been easy. It's never been easy. But it's been fascinating even to me sometimes, I have to admit. And at times, I have felt like I was watching a movie of my life instead of actually living it. Because as Augusten Burroughs said in his book "Magical Thinking"-- all he wanted to be was normal. But here's the thing, that's what we people of dysfunctional families always wanted and what we'll never get. And perhaps if we fix ourselves just enough and have just enough time and confidence, we can at least entertain normal people and maybe even make a little money in the bargain.

Thanks for reading.

Oh, and here's the LA Times link: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-wk-tell29mar29,1,5417755.story

A Less Than Premiere Experience.

Tuesday started good. Got my second Augusten Burroughs set and was listening on the way to work and all was well and fine. Even when Julie called during the midget cleaning lady story and said she couldn’t go with me to the premiere party. I. Was. Fine. I’ve done a lot of shit alone over the years. I mean, you’re a 38 year-old woman who’s single, of course you have. But then the day went weird. Around 4:00pm I got this strange feeling that I shouldn’t go to the party. Or maybe I just didn’t want to go. Because the show didn’t start until 10pm which meant I wouldn’t be heading home until way after that. Everyone who lived nearby – like most adults over the age of 18-- left early to get ready for the party. And me? I was still at work. To either kill time or figure it out.

Still not sure of what I should do, I went into the bathroom and fixed my make-up and then I decided I’d go to Whole Foods and get groceries for the rest of the week. Because what I wore was it. I didn’t have anywhere to primp and drink wine and play. That’s the part I love about going out. The best part of being a female. It’s fun to me. But oh, well. Wasn’t going to happen. Because without Julie, I didn’t have a back-up plan. I did know that I couldn’t drink if I went alone because before I was going to crash at Julie’s place. But drinking when you’re doing the schlep? Well, it just wasn’t happening. After missing Quentin’s bday, I really wanted to be able to go out. I wanted to have fun.

I remember back when I was going through sorority rush at UCLA and I couldn’t afford to pay for the housing costs, so I drove up every day. I left early every day. There was one night when I was so tired that I pulled over at the side of the road and fell asleep for awhile. I was just too tired to drive. I missed the bonding that happened in the dorms. Sure, I got in a house, but there was a part of the experience that I missed. And it wasn’t traumatic or anything but those things stick with you. The things you do to get by. The things you can’t do.

Anyway, I was two blocks from work and my car died. Completely. Dead. I pumped the brakes. They’re power brakes. So nothing. I finally just threw the parking brake on and when that didn’t work, I pulled the emergency brake. And steered towards the curb. I finally came to a stop. And then, I just cried. It was like the twilight zone. It was 8:22pm. I looked at my clock. I’d had lots of car mishaps over the years—including get my car totaled and I figured it out. Always. Usually, I would have Triple A tow my car to the mechanic on my corner and then I’d cross the street, go home and call a cab. It was always fine. But what do you do when you’re over an hour away?

So I called Carla. She was working at “The Insider” until 11ish. She was remarkably calm and two blocks away. She told me to call Triple A, have them check out the car and if it wasn’t okay to drive, have them drop me off at Paramount and she’d drive me home. I was so grateful. I called Quentin and left a message while I waited for the the tow truck driver. The driver towed me to work and then tooled around in my car which was suddenly working fine. The check engine light had been on before. That sucker had been dead. It was bizarre. He told me to drive around the parking lot. And I did. It seemed fine but I was scared that it might die on one of the three freeways I take. He told me to take his card and he’d come pick me up if something happened. So home I drove. And I made it. And I cried all night. Not hysterical crying. But rather the kind of tears that just flow while you think you’re talking normal. Like you’re sweating or something. DirecTV didn’t play the premiere episode. Mom and I stayed up talking for awhile. I cried the whole time. It was again, bizarre.

In the morning, I went to a mechanic. He said it was the igniter switch and it could go out again or never again. That it was expensive. $460 not including labor. So he said to just wing it and hope for the best. So I am. My “Driving Force” coworkers didn’t seem to buy the whole car breaking down thing. Because I had my car. But what can you do? They said it was a great party. I was sorry I missed it. But right now, I guess my life Is not supposed to be a party. So tomorrow, on my bday, I’ll just realize it is what it is and believe that some day there will be more. And pray the universe gives it to me.

I Sold Another Essay! Or simply, Yippee!

Or an essayish type thing. It's going to be running on Thursday in the Calendar section of the Los Angeles Times! It's about a few of my dating experiences. All of which happened. A long time ago. Clearly. Because I haven't been on a date since... well, last year. When I went to Florida. Which again, was a very long time ago. I got the email this morning when I got to work. Which was a great surprise. I wrote the piece on spec right before I started this job and I hadn't even followed up yet. That's why the whole it being accepted out of the blue thing is truly just about the coolest thing ever. Well, almost the coolest. The coolest would have to be that the piece is going to be running... on my birthday! What are the odds of that? I'm choosing to think that's a good omen. And if it's not. I'm going to pretend it is. For both dating and writing. A girl can dream, can't she?

I do have to say, that it makes me feel much better about the fact I spent my entire day yesterday working on the rewrite of the Ex-Convict essay... and still didn't finish. ALL DAY. From 9:30am to 9:30pm. I didn't even go to yoga. Or buy Claritin D. I was determined to finish. But apparently, that was not enough to get it done. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with it. Maybe it was the whole Quentin birthday thing and that there are tons of drafts with different word counts and tones and that I didn't really want to be thinking about it at all. Him at all. Or maybe it was the fact I felt stupid reading it. Because now I can finally see that he never cared about me. That I just wanted him to. And he just needed a place to stay. Which makes me a bit sad. And the piece is supposed to be funny. So the sad thing is a problem. It's also all about him. Which is one of the things that I needed to fix. I spent all of yesterday trying to add me into the story. Where I was at when I met him, how it happened, how I felt and what I learned. Here's the problem: Do I even know what I learned? Maybe just to avoid contact at all costs. That's it, really. But that sure isn't how I felt when the whole thing ended. And ass that I am, I don't I necessarily even want it that way now. It's just the way it has to be. It's the best thing for me. Perhaps that's why rewriting it isn't so much fun anymore. Nor is even writing about it here. So I'm going to stop. Onwards and upwards.

Tomorrow night is the "Driving Force" premiere. It's at 10pm on A&E. Watch, watch, watch!

Learning What's Good For Me.

I just finished my second audio book on CD. And my fourth week working in reality television. I had a friend get engaged this past week. Which made me cry I was so happy for her. And touched that she emailed me a picture of the ring on her finger. I just paid one friend back the money she loaned me. And look forward to repaying the next. I've got my commute down to an hour. I still don't like paying for gas. I learned from the very un-birthday dinner at my sister's place. And so I'm not going to a birthday party tonight for a friend. As much as I'd like to celebrate with him at his party, I'm taking care of myself. And seeing another certain someone there wouldn't be doing that. It would just hurt. And I've had enough of that. Feeling good feels better. As uncomfortable as it might be. I'm trying to get used to it. Luckily, my friend understands and instead, I get to spend a whole day with him next weekend. We're going to spend Sunday celebrating our birthdays together. Which seems like a pretty good trade-off. I'm rewriting my essay this weekend so I can get it to Fresh Yarn. Finally. So perhaps I can finally get the story published online. I'm feeling more creative but not entirely funny . I guess a lot of self-help will do that to a girl. That's why I've been listening to Augusten Burroughs in the car. I'm trying to get my sense of humor back. Besides, I really want to laugh again. I miss laughing. I like joy. I have been getting to know my co-workers better and with that comes laughing. I'm very teasable. And gullible. I also have quirks. Which are slowly creeping their way back. And being a fish-out-of-water and an older fish at that in a whole new world, it's kind of funny at times. To them and to me. I think it will probably be at least another couple of jobs before I can move out of mom's. Which is not ideal, but okay. I'm adjusting to feeling so removed. It's allowing me time to think. To set boundaries. And to get my bearings. I am dying to date. But don't think I'm quite there yet. I think my own place would make it easier. And perhaps a few more self-help books. I think they're working. It's working. Which is a huge relief.

Coming Back To Life.

Today was a more relaxed day at work. Despite the fact there was a crash in Gainesville, Florida and one of the drivers was hurt. Everyone's really worried. And not because it can affect the show. Because they care. And yes, it can affect the show. Reality is like that. It can create a story that you least expect or kill one that you were working on because it ends up going nowhere. Adds a bit of excitement to the process, that's for sure. This was the beginning of week four and I think I'm getting the hang of it. Getting comfortable with it. And less worried about the outcome. Who knew. Me. Comfortable?

I did have to do about three hours of field notes on Sunday but that was okay. I like doing them because that way I know what's going on in the show before everyone else. I had a slight panic attack last night pre-field notes when I didn't get as much done as I'd like. No writing at all. Just yoga and a ridiculous dinner at my sisters house that I'm not going to get into. It falls under the category of things I should have known by now about what she will and won't do for me and 10 self-help books later... well, at least I know why I believe things will be different. And perhaps calling myself on it will change it. Even though getting angry at her won't do a damn thing. They say it takes only 21 times of doing something before it becomes a habit. So I've got a ways to go.

Mom and I went to Fashion Island on Sunday. Which was a bizarre experience. I only went for American Rag. It's one of my favorite stores in LA and I was so happy to know it was in the OC. At Fashion Island no less. In a mall. Which does not fit and that's what's so great about it. All the stuff that's snatched up in LA in like five minutes? Well it just sits there in OC. I know this because the salespeople told me. The people in OC don't get it. American Rag's thing. They wear jeans and t-shirts and carry Chanel and Louis Vuitton bags and drive white Jags and Mercedes and BMWs. The high point of my weekend was when Mom bought me a pre-birthday gift. A Steven Alan shirt. Which made me happy but also I felt a bit guilty. Just 20 more times and it might feel perfectly normal to get gifts!

Still, I woke up in the middle of the night last night. Got some more stuff done. Then went to bed. Then woke up again an hour later. Am very tired tonight. And that's about it. Nothing else to report. Oh, there is a hot guy working on the show in the office building next to us. And I love the valets who park our cars. Because they're very nice to me and my ghetto car.

Why Are You So Happy All The Time?

That's what the girl who serves food at the cafe at the Hollywood Production Center asked me this morning. All I had said was "Good morning, how are you? And told her that I would like a Soy Chai Latte." Sure on other occasions, I've said it's a beautiful day. And things like that. But today, that was it. I just looked at her post question and blinked... at first, then I answered, "I don't know. I just am." And then, I stopped and said truthfully, "Because I've been through things and when you've gotten through that to the other side, you can just be grateful and happy. And I'm a happy person usually. And when I can be happy, I'd rather be happy. And I really like my job." She liked the second answer better. Sometimes brevity is not enough. And I know for me, the simple, pat answers always made me feel like there was something wrong with me. That there was some mystery out there that I couldn't solve. Some answer that I didn't know. And although I do know I no longer need to explain or share everything so people understand where I'm coming from, I also don't want to pretend that reality doesn't exist either.

So in short, I'm practicing boundaries slowly. And the same goes for saying what I mean and want and what I feel. It's not easy. And that's why I'm still on the retreat. Not everyone in my wold respects boundaries. That's how I got here. Well, one of the ways I got here. And I even encountered it a few times this week. The good thing now is that I recognize it. Didn't feel the need to get upset by it, but saw what was happening. I let it go. Someone pushing their shit onto me. Normally, I'd take on anything else. When things were bad in my life, I always did. That's why I'm still in retreat mode. Not quite in social mode yet. It has nothing to do with feeling bad about myself but everything to do with wanting to protect myself. Because there are friends who are used to me behaving in a certain way. A way that I had lapsed into and there are conversations that I need to have. Because I let them think it was all me. The things that were wrong. And it wasn't. Some of the blame and the issues were theirs, too. And I don't know if they see that. And probably not. Because I certainly never told them. I was debating recently whether or not I should And then I realized I have to-- at least if I wanted to continue the friendships. And who knows, they may not want to. But one way or another, I need to know what I want and how to ask for it. So that's what I'm doing or at least trying to.

Oh, Happy Day.

Tired, but happy day. Can barely function. Don't care much. Alot of things are moving around inside my busy head. But am too tired and busy to share because it's late and I should sleep. Did I mention it only took me an hour to get to work today? Anyway, it's all good now. A scene a day... not so bad. (There's a lot more going on in the course of the day. Trust me." The more I learn. The better I feel. I don't even care if someone has to leave and asks me to write a scene on the fly at 7:15. And at 9:58 when I checked out at Whole Foods (I got off work at 9:30) so I could get nosh for tomorrow and Friday since lunch is kind of an imposition when you're busy, I got carded for my bottle of wine. I said to the very sweet guy checking me out, "you're sweet." (Well, I was tired. I gave all my love and originality to "Driving Force"). And his response? "No, you're hot." God bless him-- that's all I have to say. Good night.