26, Feel the Burn

Today is my 26^th birthday and I woke up at 6am with a UTI. My morning is spent in the waiting room at Planned Parenthood and I can’t help thinking “boy, it feels good to be alive!”

Every year on my birthday, I feel deserving of freebies, endless compliments and favors. Lately that sense of entitlement has extended to all the days in January leading up to the 14^th, and even the few days after. “I was born this month. MOVE ASIDE,” I shout out to the other cars in traffic. “Yes, I’ll have extra whip cream and no, I shall not pay for it!” So far it’s working: the nurse gave me one of her tamales and some rando let me take a left turn in front of her (in LA, this is the greatest gift). I’d like to think there’s a certain glow, an aura that I carry to make others notice the prominence of this day, but it’s probably more that I’m being extra obnoxious and they just want me to go away.

But I do feel special today. Facebook comments make me all warm and fuzzy with reminders that people do, or at least at one point, have appreciated something I did enough to bother writing. Going through my inbox, you can believe it or not, but Starbucks offered ME a personalized free drink. Even my online medical portal sent an email with tips to stay healthy and safe on this special day! Isn’t technology wonderful?

Among those encouraging emails was one from a screenwriting contest I applied to last spring, announcing my selection to the semifinal round. Which in the grand scheme is trivial but still nice to get a positive response for once. I’ve gotten so used to rejection from these things that I’ve learned to completely erase any memory of ever applying to avoid constant disappointment.  So that was an extra cherry on top to my morning of burning pee… someone out there liked what I wrote, and thinks it’s worthy of a second read. Not too shabby. It’s really all that we crave, isn’t it? Chocolate cake and a slice of validation? This word has taken a new, grimmer meaning since trying to find parking in Los Angeles, but it’s something that I, and most creatives, constantly struggle with.  Am I any good? Will I make it? And today, on the anniversary of my birth, I expect you all to tell me, “Yes, yes you are and yes you will!”

It would be dickish of me not to mention the passing of Alan Rickman this morning, the second great Brit we’ve lost this week. I’d lie if I said I knew a lot of Bowie but Rickman was certainly someone I admired. I won’t dwell on his death because, heck, I barely knew the man and it’s my birthday, damn it! But even when he wasn’t Snape he was true perfection on screen, in some of my favorite films. He will truly be missed by this industry and movie lovers worldwide.

OKAY. BACK TO ME. Me, me, me! I haven’t shared much of the surprises and joys and horrors of living in Hollywood yet, which is a bit unfair and lazy on my part because there are a boatload of stories to tell. Some I am not allowed to because I have signed a non-disclosure agreement. Which is excruciating because I am TERRIBLE with secrets. But I promise to knock your socks off another day. Tonight, though, I just wanna be away from my laptop and dance, and will do so in Mexican fashion with killer tacos and salsa music. Because I like to live life with a bit of spice. And guacamole.

I feel extremely fortunate as a recent west coast transplant to have friends to share my day with, but I also get a bit tingly inside when I receive bings from friends far and abroad. Chicago, you and your beautiful people will always be home, though I'm so content to not be in your freezer. And Oh Paris, my loves in Paris, I miss you so much. Nobody thinks I’m loud or too smiley here, or that my colorful clothing and jolly way of speaking are off-putting. Since leaving you I have realized one of my biggest fears, and that is that I merely blend. It’s not such a bad thing, really, but I crave that extra validation, particularly in the form of credits and dollas. I’m gonna work my ass off for it this year, and the next. And the year after that. And I hope with each proceeding birthday that the good vibes increase and the UTIs decrease and that eventually I stand out in the way I imagine or at least find the joy in blending. That’s okay too.

To my fellow '90 babies, let’s make 26 sexy, and good health to those who share my sitch (ha!). Over two decades of playing soccer, and I’m still wearing the jeans I bought at age 16… it really does feel good to be alive!

Hello, La La Land

Check out my new fancy banner for the blog! My lovely friend Sandra made it and I’m just as obsessed with it as I am with her. She’s an incredible artist and hilarious and beautiful and sassy and smart and was also my first friend in Paris. She helped me with directions, the language, to the clubs, etc and in return I would take her e-cigarette, the kind that smells like hazelnut, and hide it in my purse to freak her out. She put up with a lot. Check out her other awesome artwork here.

I hopped on the plane, Miley!

Of course I Frenchify my blog NOW, just as I’ve left France and officially moved to Los Angeles, but let’s just say it’s a part of my past that I ain’t letting go (plus it’s just so darn pretty!). I used to walk those winding cobblestone streets of Le Marais, climb the hill up to the Sacre Coeur, bike my way down le Canal St. Martin and take in the beautiful buildings and people. Now, I live my life in a car.

It’s been just over two weeks now in la la land. I’m still here. I’m still alive. It’s funny, in all of the interviews I’ve had so far (trust me, not THAT many) I keep getting asked, “how long are you planning to stay this time?” And I kind of wanna be like “you don’t know what I’ve been through!!” but it’s nice to be able to honestly answer, “this is where I want to be.”  And then I get the rejection emails or worse, no response, and I cry and think, “why oh why did I leave you, baguette land? You had such delicious baguettes!”

The rain stays mainly off the plain

But it’s been exciting. And HOT. I feel like my sweat glands and B.O. have strengthened since Europe (or maybe with age!) and I need deodorant constantly. Or maybe it’s the nerves that I’ve just bought a car and signed a lease and will soon be lacking health insurance… ALL while being the U word. No, not Uranus, UNEMPLOYED. Shocked emoji!!!

It’s not so bad. I haven’t quite freaked out yet, perhaps because I’ve laid out a general game plan of all the steps I’ll take and how desperate I’m willing to get before I’ve achieved wealth and stardom, and while I won’t bore you with the details it will involve a lot of crying and home cooked pasta. But people smile a lot here, and it’s quite encouraging. I’ve reached out to friends, acquaintances, even strangers and been surprised by just how many strangers are not really strangers at all. As well as how many strangers are on drugs. Speaking of awful things you consume, vegan options are literally everywhere. It’s like Forever 21 for herbivores… there’s almost too many options that you feel nauseous and all you want is a juicy steak but it’s nowhere to be found. Fear not, there’s In & Out around the corner. All life problems solved.

the Mecca

I still get pissed off about some things like increased car insurance or paying double in rent what I did in Paris or $15 dollar parking for my one hour doctor’s appointment and generally all things concerning money, but money can’t buy you love, right? But maybe it can buy me a job with benefits? Or a pool? Honestly, if probably could buy me love if I had enough. It’s fun to dream, ain’t it.

Like I said, I'm excited to be here. I've been a little Dora the Explorer and vamonosing my ass around to the different hoods. Culver. Westwood. Beverly. WeHo. HoWe (it's fun to say!). Spoke a little Francais here, a little Español there (and a little 'konichiwa!' at the ramen shop!) There's tons of diversity if you look for it, not on screen, but in all the little pockets that make up this massive suburbia. And I'm excited to Dora my way around some more. 

I can't wait to share more with mom and Cynthia and whoever else reads this. I’ve already got enough material for many a blog post to come, many a giggle, many a tear. I’ve brought up crying quite a bit in this rather scattered post. It is 2:30 in the morning (PST, biatch!) and I just finished off my roommate's quart of ice cream. I guess you could say I'm on a roll. With my writing. With my move. That ice cream. And with this page: I just scrolled up again to see my friend’s artwork and wow, what a pretty place I called home. So far away now. I feel you, Carole King. But now I'm here. Home is where the heart is. A very hot, expensive home.