| G-d has a sense of humor |
[Feb. 19th, 2008|11:14 pm] |
And Farrah has cancer and Grama's got about a week left, I hear. And life is going really well so there's nothing like a bit of tragedy to balance it all out.
Someone said a prayer that Grama would make it through. Not to be picky but I ask, if you're going to say a prayer, pray that she is happy and unafraid, and the family is closer to being at peace now and in the coming days and weeks and months and years, that the mourning period will not be debilitating, that our blood bonds will be stronger and our zest for life renewed. I like to think that if this spunky old bird who outlived most of her friends could communicate that now she would. |
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| a toast |
[Nov. 22nd, 2007|09:04 am] |
And on my hands down favorite holiday, I wish to those that I have loved and who have helped me grow, a day to be thankful, a day to be shared, and a day worthy of going down in the books with good cheer.
Paula Deen actually deep fried stuffing on a stick AND cranberry sauce this year. That girl is nuts. Love it.
I hope you are all happy and healthy this holiday season. I raise my glass to next year and the years after that, when we have the same reasons and more to be thankful for.
Cheers y'all, and best dishes. Happy Thanksgiving. |
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| theatre in los angeles? what? |
[Sep. 29th, 2007|12:06 pm] |
Mark your calendars now, November 2 and 3, The Merchant of Venice at The Trestage on Sunset and La Brea. I'm in it. It's going to rock pretty hard.
Also, there's this kickass performance art piece going on (it's opening weekend and I think there's a six-week run) at the theatre called The Seven Deadly Sins. Guess what the show's about. www.ethostheatrecompany.org for tickets. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 27th, 2007|12:09 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | party shuffle | ] |
Do you ever think about everyone around you as characters in the story of your life in which you are the leading lady (or man, as the case may be)? People who are recurring characters, some extras, some guest stars, some series regulars...
And then the fact that you're a character in everyone else's stories...kinda puts the pressure on to play your roles well.
I don't know about the plot in mine just yet but I'm sure it's character driven. I've got a killer soundtrack though, I tell you what. |
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| theme song for the past year |
[Aug. 25th, 2007|09:38 am] |
Good morning, son.
I am a bird
Wearing a brown polyester shirt
You want a coke?
Maybe some fries?
The roast beef combo's only $9.95
It's okay, you don't have to pay
I've got all the change
Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me
I'm sorry
Good morning, son
In twenty years from now
Maybe we'll both sit down and have a few beers
And I can tell you 'bout today
And how I picked you up and everything changed
It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you'd feel the same things
Everybody knows
It sucks to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
You'll try and try and one day you'll fly
Away from me
Good morning, son
I am a bird
It was pain
Sunny days and rain
I knew you'd feel the same things
Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It's so weird to be back here.
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
Oh, we're still fighting it, we're still fighting it
And you're so much like me
I'm sorry |
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| Hooray for Hollywood: raising the rant |
[Aug. 19th, 2007|11:59 pm] |
So I applied in October to bartend at a shmancy Burbank restaurant that had at least a 3 part interview. They call me last week to come in. I make it through the first two interviews and then get a call from the GM telling me they had decided not to go further with the process. Okay, I understand, I tell him that he's missing out and he says if that's the case he'll keep me on file. I call the other manager that I had a feeling was rooting for me and tell him thanks for that and thanks for the opportunity. He appreciates it.
I get a call the next night from the manager who I thought was rooting for me. He tells me he found me attractive and that if it wasn't out of line, he'd like to take me out. I say it would have been out of line if he had hired me and I'll get back to him.
Which makes me wonder just how much sexual harassment and discrimination I'm going to have to put up with in my lifetime. I felt it as "the jew" in my college class and I feel it now as a woman who missed out on a great job because she is not wholly unattractive and therefore was apparently created for the sole purpose of groping. Don't get me wrong, I believe that men and women are different and I don't necessarily believe that equal opportunity laws have the power to really overcome those differences. But if we are lucky enough to have those laws, it sucks when we have to let people get away with bending them at the expense of others, and sucks worse when it happens to ourselves.
So let's raise our glasses, shall we, to choosing battles wisely. |
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| time |
[Aug. 18th, 2007|10:03 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | the kitchen | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  calm | ] |
| [ | music |
| | I'm rather enjoying the sounds of LA outside | ] |
I think I'm finally starting to get a clue as to my role in my own life and my responsibilities to others. This is interesting. I tell you what, there's nothing like a little death in the family surrounded by months spent thinking about the future to give you hindsight for the past, even time before college I had gleefully stowed away for so long--respectfully, lovingly, and with the substitution of wisdom of experience for judgment.
As I approach the one-year mark in L.A. this week, I realize I have finally experienced a year of my life spending more time with myself than anyone else and I have to say--it was a brutal year. Myself and I spent quite a bit of time crying our eyes out and letting the weight of all these years start to slip away a bit--just the burdens, not the joyful moments or the knowledge I've gained. I happen to think we're getting better every day, we're healing, and we're at the place now where there's this endless world of opportunity out there and I only have to figure out where to start pursuing my dreams and which projects to focus on first, because now they are clearer and more plentiful than ever before.
As selfish as this is, and I'm not apologizing for it being so, I just wish I had someone else to try and talk some of these things out with that it wouldn't be a burden to. I can't afford a therapist but I wonder, after all these years of swearing up and down that I'm a great friend, have I really done what I've needed, have I really listened hard enough to others to have earned that they should simply listen in return without rambling back about their own shit and offering unsolicited advice? Not really. But I want a good friend locally anyway, a more available support system, and will continue to focus on being a better listener so maybe I can get it--it's all about self serving in the end, no?
I don't want to try to sum up a year well spent on a livejournal entry. I will attempt to make my amends as the high holidays approach but for now, I hear Shakespeare calling my name. Moving forward all the time. |
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| all of it. |
[Aug. 13th, 2007|10:26 am] |
well dammit, why not? |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 7th, 2007|09:52 am] |
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Grampa died this morning. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 9th, 2007|01:15 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | away | ] |
| [ | mood |
| | jaded | ] |
| [ | music |
| | waiting on the world to change | ] |
I will be in Florida from Friday (the 13th--yipes!) at 7am until Wednesday evening (July 18). Do with this information what you will. |
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| Theatre |
[Jul. 2nd, 2007|09:14 am] |
There is something magical that happens on the opening and closing nights of a show. There is something otherworldly that happens when both of those nights occur at the same time. This is why we do what we do. Happy and satisfied and eager for the next project.
Also, cooking schools--anyone know anything about them? Recommendations and advice welcome. |
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| Updates |
[Jun. 26th, 2007|02:54 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | one at a time | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  restless | ] |
| [ | music |
| | no music now, it'd be too much noise | ] |
1. Friday night at the Museum of Architecture and Design- unveiling of the new Danish art exhibit, a wedding, a party, and strong drinks poured by yours truly. Come one, come all for a honka honka good time.
2. Sunday night, 8pm at the Museum of Architecture and Design- needtheatre's self-created production of LaLaLa, featuring a kick ass (literally--there's a 3 minute girl fight in the show) ensemble including yours truly, live dj and full bar for $15. Come one, come all for a honka honka good time.
3. Thursday nights all summer at B.B. King's Blues Club- Stevie Wonder plays and kisses cheeks, food and cocktail service by yours truly. Come one, come all, you get the idea.
4. Weekend of July 19-22ish- perhaps for the last time, the whole family will be in SoFla. Everyone say a little prayer for Grampa. Bad news from the doc today, let's hope he makes it to 90 on September 7.
5. Tommorrow- my online proof sheets for new headshots will be posted. Anyone who wants to provide input I'll be happy to mail you the link.
There's more going on but I hope everyone is happy and healthy. Even you. Especially you. xoxo |
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| Morality |
[May. 8th, 2007|06:36 pm] |
Donating eggs. Starting price is $5,000-10,000. Prices increase for more popularly requested genes, such as certain physical features, lack of history of family illnesses, or even religious backgrounds. For example, a couple offered $500,000 for an egg donor that was an Ivy League student who was 5'10" or taller and scored at least 1400 on her SATs. It is allegedly quite a painful procedure. If you choose to donate your eggs, you may also choose to remain confidential, though the couple you are donating to will have access to any and all of your history that might affect their child rearing, from the amount of people in your family who have had an eating disorder to the time you smoked your first cigarette.
Your thoughts? Opinions?
Aaaaand go. |
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| and another thing... |
[Apr. 18th, 2007|03:59 am] |
why is it always my fault if the communication fails? |
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| the vibe lately: a haiku |
[Apr. 10th, 2007|11:55 pm] |
my best ain't enough
how to make the best bester?
i would like to know |
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| doo pa doo pa doo |
[Mar. 23rd, 2007|02:56 pm] |
when i was four my favorite bands were manhattan transfer, the beatles, and peter paul and mary, which i listened to on my pop's record player.
my favorite books were morris has a cold, there's a party at mona's tonight, and elizabeth and larry.
my favorite colors were pink and purple and my boyfriend's name was daniel. he was a very modern bloke and introduced me to mario 2 on nintendo. i took ballet and tap dancing and reading classes and i wore a tutu.
i loved playing dress up and lite brite and wearing a bathing suit to go swimming in the tub.
i hated brushing my teeth and loved the smell of my granpapi's pipe and my pop's marlboro reds.
my best friends were laura flora dora, whose mother was bette midler's voice teacher, and emily, who had hair past her butt.
we had a dark brown couch and i would lay on my pop's belly and he'd put a pillow on his chest for my head and we'd watch spaceballs.
my nose used to wake me up every few nights around midnight or so, when my parents ordered chinese food. we called it a nightmare snack, and i had already been eating with chopsticks for two years.
every saturday morning we went to nana's for brunch and she always had chocolate milk for my brother and me. my brother would have the honors of shaking up the chocolate milk to mix it and he always did a funny chocolate milk shaking dance.
one time i accidentally picked up the box that had nana's old dog nicky's ashes in it and started trying to open it. i got in trouble and then broke her bed with my head.
i also got in trouble that year because we were trying to rent out the apartment and i found a marker in the bathroom one day and thought that the white grout between the tiles would look much better in dark blue. that was the only time my whole life my moms ever gave me a patch-kie. she wore scrunched socks and reebok hi-tops with two velcros across the top and put my hair in a ponytail on the side.
and that's most of year four in a nutshell--some of it blends together with year five, methinks. i'm missing a few things... |
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rubberemotion's journal
tired
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