I am....

I promised myself I wasn’t going to blog anymore this week but I somewhat inspired by a friend’s blog, wondering if she’d grown up. She did a “who am I” that got me thinking (oh, no, not that!).

Who am I?

I am strong in ways I’m just beginning to discover.

I am an artist.

I am a director.

I am a writer.

I am beautiful in my own unique way.

I am funny.

I am passionate.

I am learning how to let go of some of the tight control I have on things in my life.

I am loyal.

I am stubborn.

I am an overachiever.

I am extremely vulnerable.

I am emotional.

I am occasionally sexy.

I love deeply and recklessly.

I am unendingly creative.

I am restless always.

I am an insomniac.

I am fragile at times.

I am regaining the power of my own voice.

I am afraid to show my weaknesses.

I am very intelligent.

I am intuitive.

I am instinctive.

I am a little bit psychic.

I am crazy about the object of my affection, whether he knows it/acknowledges it or not, doesn’t matter.

I am moody.

I am battling depression almost every day of my life.

I am about to turn 44 in 9 days.

I am more alive now than I have been in the past five years.

I am ready for whatever the future brings me.

I am loved.

I am blessed.

That’s me in a nutshell. How ‘bout you?

How do you tell a speed bump from a road block?

Just as I start to feel optimistic, the universe drops that bloody monkey wrench on my head. And I keep putting my head down, letting the wrench bounce off, pick it up and go on my way.

My issue is this – how do you know when it’s a speed bump from the universe and you just have to slowly ride over it and hope it doesn’t tear your undercarriage out or when it’s a roadblock and you have to stop, re-think your entire approach to get to your destination and go back to one.

Pop-o-matic rules today. Go back to the start.

So frustrated with things being so close then slipping away, right through my fingers as I reach out to grasp and hold and clutch so I don’t lose them. From my professional life to my personal life. I’ve tried leaving the hand open and letting things just fall through as they may. Even more frustrating.

Not sure what to do. So many things in my life are so good and so happy and so lovely right now but the couple of things that are not are major and disrupt the rest of the niceness.

Wow, 24 hours of feeling good before the monkey wrench dropped.

There’s an old Taoist tale I try to subscribe to – the Old Master is walking down a main street in the town and he comes upon most of the townsfolk standing in the middle of the street, not going anywhere. He makes his way to the front of the crowd and finds the way is blocked by an angry, out of control horse who is bucking and kicking and making the street impassable. The townsfolk don’t know what to do to get around the horse. The Old Master contemplates for a moment then turns around -- and goes down another street.

I’ve spent so much time looking for the other street and trying to go down the other street, only to find another horse blocking the way. Right now, the big horse has the initials SAG tattooed on its forehead and I think he’s laughing at me.

Speed bump or road block? Drive over and pray? Climb over and be shot? How do you know? When do you give up and back up and park?

Same applies for the OOMA. Speed bump? Road block? No parking any time? “Objects in the mirror may be further away than they appear.” So close yet so far.

I’ll figure something out. I’m not willing to park yet, I guess. Just tired of spinning my wheels – literately and figuratively. Right now I would appreciate some guy in an orange vest, waving a flashlight and showing me the access road along the main strip that I missed so I can go on my merry way and get to where I’m supposed to be.

Rambling musings on a Wednesday

Sitting at Coffee Bean, waiting for rehearsal. Of course, I can’t just sit and do nothing and enjoy my chai.

I’ve been looking at my life lately (wow, big surprise) and am back to that happy place that comes around every few weeks or so. Some of it has to do with the fact that I saw my therapist today for possibly the last time until June minimally. Not sure if I’m going to go back even then. I feel like I’ve learned so much about myself through working with her, not that I had any deep, dark problems or secrets, but it just helped to have someone talk to me about what I feel and how I feel. Now I want to take what I’ve learned and go into the big, scary world and see what happens. If I find myself floundering again, I’ll probably go back, but I don’t know that it’s an every week the rest of my life kind of thing.

There were a couple of main lessons learned. First, to not lose myself again. That’s the most important lesson. Just to embrace the wonder that is Susan and not try to do or be anything else for anyone else, no matter what. The next man who gets involved with me gets me, emotional baggage and all. No need to apologize for who I am and try to fit his image of what I should be. And if the recent OOMA is the one I get involved with, he certainly knows the many faces of Susan and so far has not run screaming to the hills. And if he does, fuck him. Better to hang on to myself than to give it up just to be with someone who doesn’t want the real me. Second lesson, flaws are good – in me and in others. I am not perfect. No one should expect me to be perfect. My feelings are valid, no matter how twisted and out of control they can be. To dismiss them is to dismiss me. And it’s okay to share those emotions with those around me. It allows them to see me and to share back. Wow, what a thought.

The other thought is that I realized I am actually very happy with the organized chaos that is my life. I love nothing more than having to run to my schedule every time someone calls and see that very full calendar. I love the fact that I have three jobs, although my body has gotten to used to the lazy schedule I’ve had lately. I love the fact that I’m going into this film knowing that it could crash and burn and basically saying, oh, well. Maybe it will. But don’t care. I’ve backed off before, not going to do that again. At least I’ll have tried.

I’m even happy with where I am with the OOMA. I’ve decided to not back off and hide. I’m crazy about him and if that’s not working for him, too bad. I’m not going to hide it and pretend it’s not there. I’m not quite ready to throw it down on the mat in front of him, either, right now but at least I’m not denying my feelings any more. I realized that every time I overthought what I felt or got self-conscious about it and backed off, that’s when he would back off. Duh! So now I think I’m in a place where I’m ready to tentatively put that foot out there and see what happens. The situation is a bit complicated right now but that doesn’t mean I have to pull away. Once the complication is cleared up, that may open the path more and then we’ll really see what happens. In the meantime, I am just going to enjoy his company, make sure to treat him the way I always have and not hesitate to show him how I feel. Maybe then we’ll be able to see what’s there, complication or not.

I am where I was not quite 20 years ago when I first moved out here. I was newly divorced from my first husband, I was trying to figure out my life. I was working three jobs – Simpson/Bruckhiemer, working for a woman as a personal assistant, and working at Universal. I was just getting to know my current ex, although that was a much more straightforward thing. Not a lot of complications. The main difference now is that I have become the artist I was seeking back then. I have found more of myself in the last eight months than I did in those intervening 17 years. And I’m not 25.

It may also be that my birthday is just around the corner, 10 days away, on our first day of shooting. My sister will be in town and I cannot wait. We’ve been getting closer and closer recently and I’m very grateful for that.

I’m almost 44 years old. I’ve been divorced twice. I’m a director. I’m a writer. For the first time in my adult life, I feel like I know who I am.

This time last year, I was contemplating where the next 30 years of my life would lead me (thank you, Tim McGraw) and I was not happy with where I saw them leading. A marriage that was long over with a man who could not look at me without contempt. Feeling a growing confidence in my directing path but not quite there yet. Feeling something for someone that would never happen, that should never happen and, thank god, never did happen. On the brink of taking the leap into the unknown, my toes on the edge of the abyss but not quite ready to step off.

It’s been a long, difficult, challenging, rewarding, frustrating, depressing, thrilling year. I’ve done some amazing projects, worked with my dearest, closest friends, and have found my voice again, literally and figuratively. I can’t ever begin to share with my friends what they have meant to me and what they have done for me.

That’s the other lesson – there is love, in so many forms – no matter where you look. All you have to do is be open for it and to it and it will find you and fill you. What more could one want?

Never stopped...

I never stopped loving him. You hear all the time in movies and TV shows, “I woke up one morning and I didn’t love him anymore.” That was never the issue. Even today, I still have so much love for him – for what he did for me as an artist at the beginning, for the times when he could be so amazingly sweet and generous with himself, for how much he loved me no matter what I did or said. And I did some terrible things. I lied to him about money. That was the worst thing. We had such money problems and I couldn’t find a way to tell him because I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in his eyes that I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t stand the recriminations about what a failure I was because I couldn’t fix it. So I just stopped telling him the truth because I couldn’t bear it. That was so wrong of me. But I didn’t know what else to do.

Or at least I thought he loved me despite what I did. As we went through counseling, he brought up so many things that I didn’t think were true but they were true for him. He didn’t trust me. Because I had lied about the money. That must have meant that I was lying about other things, which he never explained what those things were.

I grew to dislike him. I grew very angry with him. I grew very disappointed in what I felt he had turned my life into. I grew dissatisfied with the lack of support from him and the disrespect I felt coming from him. Mostly, I grew angrier and angrier because I felt he didn’t hear me. The night he walked out of the bedroom when I was literally on the brink of suicide and he left me there, my anger solidified and I was done. Even though we still went through almost a year of counseling, that night, with the closing of that door, I was done. That was irreparable. And I’m sure he has the irreparable moment as well, when he knew it was over. We both let it go on longer than it should have and we both hurt each other so much by hanging on to the hope that maybe, somewhere under all the hurt and the rage and the bitterness that there was still a love there.

And I think there was… and still is. I will absolutely love him until the day that I die. I will carry in my heart the moments that were precious and that held that love for so long. I will never regret the time we had together because I wouldn’t be who I am without it. There is a piece of my heart that he will always have.

There isn’t a word for what I did stop feeling for him. It isn’t that I stopped caring for him because, to me, that’s almost the same thing as love. I just stopped… maybe wanting him is closer. I stopped wanting him in my life. I stopped wanting him to be involved in my creative life. I stopped wanting him even to be involved in my personal life. I loved being at the theater because that meant I didn’t have to deal with him and be with him. The saddest thing is that I stopped wanting him near me physically. We’d always been connected that way and, sometimes even still, I long for that physical closeness. Just a hand on my knee or the small of my back, those personal, close, intimate places (not sexual places) that only the ones we love are permitted to touch. When we’d go on long trips in the car, he never took his hand off of me. It was secure, it was warm, it was safe. I don’t know when it stopped being that but I knew I was in trouble when I stopped wanting that. I stopped wanting his approval, I stopped wanting even his opinion. Then I stopped really wanting him in any way. That’s what was lost. The want, the need, the desire to have that person near you and in your life and just a breath away. When you stop wanting to call them to share news, when you stop wanting to share the joys of your life with them. When you stop wanting.

The night that door closed behind him and he did not understand my pain, my sorrow, my anger, my deep, deep depression, that’s when the wanting stopped. Because I knew that, no matter how much I wanted him to be there, to be in my life, to want to be there, he just couldn’t. When he couldn’t respond to my most basic need to be made to feel safe, to feel secure, to feel saved, that’s when it all stopped. It took a while for the stopping to be complete, but that’s where it started.

It’s been more than two years since that night. A lot has changed. My life is so different now. It’s hard to look back and see myself then, how fragile I was. I still feel that way sometimes, fragile and breakable and vulnerable. But now, even without someone significant in my life, I know there’s a net there that will catch me if I fall this time. And it’s weird and sad and sorrowful that that net wasn’t there two years ago. The one who should have been holding the net was, I think, looking for a net of his own. And I was too weak to hold it out for him. So we just stood by and watched each other fall, helpless, hopeless and afraid.

And even the greatest love in the world cannot survive that.

Overwhelmed with input

I’m sitting in my bedroom, listening to the leave-blower blowing the shit out of things outside my window, listening to the thrum of whatever the hell my neighbor is constantly listening to and I can only hear the thrum of it, listening to my roommate explore French online apparently. And I wonder why I can’t get any work done at home! The roommate thing, no big deal. We share space, we share noise. It’s the general outside crap that I have no control over that makes me crazy!! And in this neighborhood, if it’s not the leaf-blower, it’s the skate-kids out front jumping cars and ramps and small children or it’s the evil ice cream truck and its very frightening calliope version of “It’s A Small World” that sounds like something Stephen King would write. Or it’s the wonderful mariachi music played out of blown-out speakers from some idiot’s truck parked under my window. What I would give for just some peace and quiet from the outside world for a bit. At least with the Roomie, I can ask for some peace and quiet. The outside world doesn’t listen so much to that.

On top of that, I had the wonderful experience of one-sided conversations this afternoon. After I finished my first day on the job with my new, very cool, very connected boss, I headed up to the Starbucks where my sweet Peter works as it’s sort of on my way home, in a weird, round-about way. I thought I’d stop in and tease him about his Irish blog. He wasn’t working so I thought I’d grab a hot chai, sit outside and work on the on-going Cinderella rewrite. Now, Peter had warned me that this Starbucks is definitely an industry hang-out. No problem. So is Priscilla’s in Burbank, where I used to always hang out.

He wasn’t kidding. I saw more Ibooks and laptops up there than at CompUSA. And just feel the schmoozing going on. I got my chai, I sat down, laid out all of my blatant self-promotion, because that’s the kind of industry-whore I am. I had “Hazard County” 2 for $20 cards (thanks, Chairman) and Cinderella CD’s conveniently strewn across the table. I turned on my Nano, put in my earplugs, turned on the Ibook, and, promptly, some musician guy came up and asked about “Hazard.” I was more than happy to talk about the show because I love it and it features one of my favorite people, as well as a couple I also like a lot. And he was very nice and we had a lovely chat about music and movies and plays. About 15 minutes later, he said thank you, have a nice day and split.

Then came the Guy with the Dog. Okay, I had been watching Guy with the Dog trying to find a place to sit outside. Of course, most people (including me) were singles sitting at tables for four. I had my purse on one chair and my messenger bag on the other to kind of discourage sitting and chatting. Chatting is quicker if someone can’t sit with you. So after Guy with the Dog hit everyone else, he quickly grabbed the seat I had cleared for Musician Guy (cuz he was kinda cute, too, so…). But Guy with the Dog, definitely not cute. He could have been a pirate in Pirates of the Caribbean.

So he picks up a “Hazard” card and we have a brief discussion about it. I tell him about Chairman, since that’s who signed the 2 for $20 and told him if he saw the show to tell Chairman hi. Then I turned back to my computer but Guy with the Dog wanted to talk theater more. This might have been interesting had he even had a clue of what he was talking about. He was one of those, “Oh, I go to theater all the time” but never heard of any of the playwrights I threw at him. He knew enough to sound like he knew what he was talking about but I can smell bullshit a mile away and this man reeked of it. He studied at the Actor’s Studio. Okay, it’s the one here in LA which has almost nothing to do with Lee Strasberg’s Actor’s Studio in New York, other than the name and some minimal connection through Lee’s second wife. I mentioned that I studied under Susan Straberg and he was on off on how he had studied with Lee once (I’m sure it was one class) and I tried to nod politely.

Then began the one-sided conversation that has become an art in this industry. I won’t call it a monolog because they often insert a question for you to answer. But when you start to answer, they stare at you blankly for about 30 seconds, pretend like they’re listening while they’re figuring out what clever piece of shit they’re going to tell you next, then they interrupt you to tell you the aforementioned piece of shit. I was stuck with Guy with Dog for about 30 minutes. I tried politely checking my cell phone, praying that someone had called. I tried interrupting and actually completing a comment about Cinderella, since he asked about the CD. I got as far as “I’m producing and directing the film…” and he was off on another bullshit tangent. I packed up my Nano, put my earphones away, shut down my computer, packed my bag and stood up and he was still having his one-way conversation with me. I told him I had to go and write the film I had been trying to tell him about but he never stopped talking. I stood there for a moment, then said, “Gotta pee,” and headed into the Starbucks without stopping to see if he even noticed that I was gone. When I came back out, he had some poor women with two little girls trapped, talking expertly about dog breeds. I waved and practically ran to my car before he could engage me once again in his little pathetic diatribe.

My head was ringing as I drove away. I couldn’t wait to get home and take a nap (really, really early morning trying to get things done before the new job). I wanted peace and quiet for maybe a half hour to nap and then maybe write.

Now we’re back to the French thrumming leaf-blower portion of the day. I guess I can always put in my earplugs, crash with the door closed (although Roomie is done with the French lesson for the day but the outside world continues), and feel the vibration of Twyla’s purr.

But now I’m hungry and that begets a whole other set of issues….

I've been bad...

I spent the weekend inadvertently watching romantic comedies. I’m such a sucker for them, although I may occasionally try to deny it and say I only really like good independent films and action films. Truth is, the romantic in me loves to see people fall in love and get their happy ending, or their version of it.

It started Friday night with “My Best Friend’s Wedding.” Those of you close to me know I shouldn’t watch this film right now, for so many reasons. But I couldn’t help myself. I love Rupert Evert in that film. Without him, might not have been as good. But when Dermot Mulroney and Julia Roberts are dancing on the boat, my heart broke. When he chooses Kimmy, my heart broke again. But in the end, Julia accepts her loss and gets her own kind of happy ending. I hope, if I should find myself in that situation, I would be able to handle myself with such dignity. I’d probably throw things at the bride and be escorted out by burly groomsmen.

Then today, as I collapsed on the couch after too many hours of production stuff, I caught the last part of “You’ve Got Mail.” Not my favorite RC. Meg Ryan was just getting to the point where she was too old to play that cutsie, nose-wrinkling kind of charming that she’s known for. And the script really wasn’t that good. I still prefer “In The Good Ole Summertime” with Van Johnson and Judy Garland. But there were points that made me wish and sigh. If I started chatting with someone online, they’d probably end up being one of the perverts that my friend, Del, busts on “Perverted Justice.”

But watching these made me acknowledge that, despite all of my protestations and all my single woman power crap, I want to be in love and loved back. And my current situation ties my hands and makes me a bit crazy.

So I should be punished and allowed to watch nothing but action films, sci-fi and films by David Fincher for the next month to repent for my indulgence of late. I did stop myself Friday from watching “While You Were Sleeping” for the umpteenth time so maybe I’m not that bad.

Maybe it’s spring. Maybe it’s watching the friends who have recently found someone to love. Maybe it’s wanting someone who is so near, yet not accessible. Maybe it’s hormones.

I had decided Friday to bide my time and see what the universe has in store for myself and the OOMA. That lasted till some time today, so that’s not too bad. About 24 hours. I still am not as crazed about it as I can be, but maybe a little wistful. Or wishful. I want him to come up to me as the music swells and… anyway, I’ve done this blog before so I’ll stop there.

I must make a pledge. No more romantic comedies until after the shoot. Gonna be hard since “Truth About Cats and Dogs” has so much the feel that I want the film to have. I may have to watch that one for research so that one doesn’t count. And “One Fine Day” because there’s this scene with… okay, never mind. No pledge. I’ll just try not to indulge too much, which shouldn’t be hard as I should be too busy making my own film to watch any other ones.

For now, I’ll enjoy the warm fuzzies the RC’s give me and hang on to the probably silly hope that my situation will end in my own version of the RC, which, the way my life works, could be quite interesting on its own. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

Blatant Self-Promotion Time

If you didn't make it to the fundraiser and you haven't sent in your $20 to help support "Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up", written & directed by Susan Lee and produced by Susan Lee, Chairman Barnes and Paul Wagar, here's your chance to put your money to work. You can order CD's at http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com or http://cdbaby.com/cd/cdapu.

Featuring the music of Jeddrah, Nellie Bly, Deena Rubinson, Annaliese, Vertigo Road, and Alison Pipitone, the soundtrack showcases some of the best undiscovered female talent in Los Angeles and New York. Ranging from "girls with guitar" folky type of music to rock your socks off rock and roll, there's something for everybody on this CD.

Your $12 helps fund the film. It's not a lot of money and you get a great batch of music for your money.

So help myself and Chairman see this project through and order a copy of the soundtrack today. Or two. Or three. Or 12.

While you're there, check out the t-shirts, thongs, baseball caps and bags available for purchase as well. Be the first on your block to own "Cinderella" merchandise.

How can it be?

How can someone – after being in a long-term relationship, be able to fall so quickly again?

I guess I’m speaking for both myself and my ex, as I think he’s involved with someone now. Actually, I’m pretty sure he is. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it’s a happy thing for him. I want him to be happy, I want him to find someone who could do for him what I could not. I’m actually kind of excited for him to be venturing out. Although it is just interesting to me that he is doing so now.

It’s been nine months. Almost to the day. And he’s in a relationship. And I’m still trying to figure out where I stand with YOUR NAME HERE. It’s just fascinating to me tonight for some reason. It may be that it’s 3:35 AM and Monica and I had a fabulous and fattening dinner at Fatburger (no-calorie Thursday) and discussed our obsessions with our own male objects of affection ad naseum. What are they thinking, why don’t they say what they’re thinking, what are we going to do with them, how do we deal with them.

Okay, this is gonna be one of those tangent-filled blogs so bear with me.

I was actually feeling a little guilty about being drawn to someone so soon because I’ve been drawn to YOUR NAME HERE for some time now. I always found it interesting and strange that I could be drawn to someone so soon but then I realized how long I had been feeling unloved and unappreciated and un-everything. So it made sense that I could find myself feeling this way about someone so quickly.

I don’t know why I felt guilty. After all, it’s not like I left him for someone. But I think if we had gone on, I might have been tempted. I was not getting the emotional care that I needed and found myself seeking out those who could provide that emotional care. Luckily, most of them were really good friends – mostly male, as I am prone that way- and even the one or so that I was attracted to, I knew nothing would happen because I couldn’t do that to my ex. But I understood how some people give in. When you’re that lonely, that deprived, that empty in a relationship, it could be very easy to just slip over the edge into something else without much thought.

In a weird way, realizing that he has someone else in his life makes me feel like the final piece of my freedom has fallen into place. Not that I felt responsible for him but I wasn’t sure how he would feel about my getting involved with someone else. Again, not really my problem but I have hurt him enough, I didn’t want to add more to that.

It also makes me feel… I don’t know. Odd. He’s found someone, which doesn’t seem like it was too hard for him. There’s someone I desire but yet, I’m not sure how to proceed and what I want out of it. I find myself being so cautious and guarded about my heart because I don’t want to be hurt so badly ever again. But as Monica was saying today and in her recent blog, you have to accept that the pain is going to be there or you can’t experience the joy.

As I’ve said before, the human heart is an amazing muscle. It can be bent, stretched, mangled, broken, shattered, stomped on, and basically ripped from your chest and pounded into the ground and, yet, it seeks to be put through all of that again just so that it can love. Resilient doesn’t do it justice. Elastic? Restorative? I’m not sure there is an adjective that can really describe it.

I do know that I have been finding myself ready to begin something with YOUR NAME HERE, if he’s really, truly interested. I don’t know if he’s been gentlemanly by keeping distance while I struggle through this journey on my way to somewhere. I don’t know if he’s been waiting for me to do something first, giving me time to figure out if that’s the step I want to take. I don’t know if he’s even really interested in being involved. I know I come with a cart or two of luggage and it’s not all matching and some of it will probably arrive by delivery somewhere along the line as I’ve lost it and forgotten about it.

I’m not sure what shape I would want this to be, this tentative relationship. I know I’m not ready to be joined-at-the-hip involved, where it’s that you have to see each other every single day or you’ll die. I think I’m too old for that. I don’t want it to be so casual that I don’t know when or if we’ll get together at any time. I think there’s a happy middle ground where it’s seriously casual? See each other as often as we both are comfortable with, whether it’s dinner or a movie or just hanging out on the couch, catching up on TV. Not being wounded that I don’t see him every day because, really, we’re both busy people. A pragmatic kind of thing?

Monica and I discussed tonight about how we can never seem to say what we need to say to the person we need to say it to when the opportunity is there. It’s too hard, it’s too vulnerable, it’s too… so many things. Back to arm-punching. Or maybe blogs are the new way of passing a note in class. “Do you love me, do you want to be my friend, check yes or no.” Hey, YOUR NAME IS HERE, if you recognize yourself here… check yes or no.

If only it were that simple.

Creativity abounds...

Decided that Artemis likes to mess with my head after his appearance. It seems that after every full moon – which I know makes me insane – I seem to come down hard for several days afterward. Hmmm, just like a man.

Anyway, Artemis is long gone and I’m feeling normal again.

It’s been a weirdly creative few days. Although I bitch about doing the Michael’s thing, it really does come down to I’m getting paid to create. So they’re little polymer clay things, but I get to do something I really enjoy and get to share that with the hapless masses. Or hapless mass, as both of my classes so far have had one single student. I’m hoping that my two hours sitting in the doorway at Michael’s on Sunday brings on the masses. It’d be more fun teaching a batch of people and definitely more profitable.

I’ve had two really great rehearsals with my lead actresses on “Cinderella.” They’re both so lovely and so collaborative. They don’t hesitate to tell me what they think – good and bad. Luckily, the script is very strong so it’s mainly ways to make it stronger. We had a great long discussion tonight about the relationship between the two sisters and they helped me figure out what I think the script is missing. I’ve always felt like there was something more that could be done with the relationship and I think that most of it has been in my head. Since the story is autobiographical to a point, I knew what my relationship was/is with my sister but I don’t think the subtleties ever made it to the page. I just assumed everyone would feel the same way I do. I fought my way home in what Chairman so appropriately called “an LA snow day,” fighting the hydroplaning on the 110 and trying not to get smushed into the concrete center divider. I couldn’t wait to sit down and write. I blew by my roomie with barely a hello and tackled the computer. It actually was pretty easy to write. I have some more tweeking to do but I think the foundation is there. Re-wrote about 11 pages and touched up about a dozen more throughout the script in a couple of hours. Thought I’d leave it for the night and take a fresh look in the morning and see if anything else catches me. But I’m pleased with what I wrote, even though I know it’s going to evolve even more.

Feeling much more optimistic about the film, either because Artemis has gone away or just because I do. It does just feel like it’s the right time for this and that, somehow, it’s going to come together. I’m not sure how but I just have to trust that we’ll figure it out. So if you haven’t sent in your $20, do so now. Or buy a CD off of one of us. I feel like sending out an email every other day to my friends who haven’t contributed saying, “Just give me the 20 bucks because you know I’ll keep sending these emails until you do. If you don’t, I’ll start sending them twice a day until you do.” I thought I’d do a birthday-guilt email in the next week or so since my birthday is less than three weeks away and will actually be our first day of shooting (expecting big ole chocolate cake so somebody better take note – and it’s Patty Jean’s b-day as well --- big f’ing cake!). An email something along the lines of, “It’s my birthday, what better present could you give me? $20 towards making my biggest dream come true.” Tell me that wouldn’t inspire you to give me your $20? Have I made it clear I want your money? Sorry, but if I don’t ask, I don’t get. Or offer to buy the production lunch one day. We’re not proud. We’ll take Pizza Hut or KFC.

Even writing the “please give us $1,000” email was creative, in a way. It made me really think about what we’re trying to accomplish and how to convey that to someone who hasn’t been reading the blogs or isn’t familiar with this whole process. Luckily, it only took a couple of drafts and some good notes from Chairman to get it right. I sent mine out today and hope that something will follow on that.

I also have a lovely lady writing a press release for the film. She also challenged me, in a good way, by sending me a list of questions about the film so she can write the press release. Some of them are tough and I have to contemplate them before responding. The main one was what is it about this project that makes it different from all the other independent films out there. My leading ladies and I discussed this a bit tonight, trying to think of a really good film in recent years that had a true portrayal of only two sisters. It seems that, in Hollywood, you must have at least three sisters in order to portray sister relationships. I like to think that this film stands out because it is about two sisters, not four or five, and that it’s more honest about their relationship. I don’t know. Need to sit at the coffee shop in the AM and put my brain to it.

Don’t have any typing to do in the morning, thank goodness, so I have the morning to finish up this batch of Cinderella stuff. Am still frustrated at my work environment because there’s just not enough room. Every time I lay anything out, I’ve got to pack it up because it’s either in the living room and, as much as I love my canine roomies, they’re not real clear on boundaries and think everything within reach is theirs and therefore papers would be scattered and eaten if left out. And the only place to spread out in my room is my bed. And I don’t particularly like sleeping on my own paperwork and neither does Twyla. Oh, well, there are worse things than this but it just annoys me. I haven’t gotten used to not having my own place, I think, and I get frustrated sometimes, missing my old, huge, gloriously spacious apartment. Although there wasn’t much room there either due to… well, anyway, that’s past.

So I had anticipated a very late night of writing and seem to have accomplished what I set out to do. Guess there’s nothing left to do but put on my Nick and Nora’s and climb into bed with my furry cohort, to hopefully dream of better ways to write this scene and wake up inspired. Oh, and I get to try out in my new job tomorrow so I’m hoping that goes well. You know I’ll let you know!

Okay, the universe doesn't suck

The universe has taken a turn today and decided to stop mocking me. The job I wasn't sure I was still up for is still there. I'm working with the woman tomorrow so I'm excited about that. The stupid demo thing I had to do at Michael's yesterday (yes, it's clay, yes, you bake it, yes, it's amazing what you can do with clay) may have resulted in a handful of people signing up for my class tomorrow. A lovely woman is working on press releases for Cinderella, particularly tying into the CD release this week. I've sent out a couple of letters to people with money hoping they'll give us some for the film. Chairman and I have been working on that angle for raising money. I tidied my room and did some laundry and it's amazing how just those simple acts can help clear your mind. Watched Twyla snooze on the aforementioned laundry then try to attack one of my shirts for her own personal reasons. Now I'm off to pick up printer supplies to send out CD's from the fundraiser, print a batch of other stuff, go get my hair cut - always makes me feel better. Then rehearsal tonight. Not such a bad day after all.

Speaking about the universe

I never cease to be amazed by the universe. Sometimes it confuses me and pisses me off, sometimes it humbles me with its wonderment. Today, I think I’m finally back to the wonderment.

Although over the past few days, the dark blues have been sneaking back in around the edges – the disappointment of the fundraiser, the fear that the film will not get made, the on-going confusion and obsession of that guy – the dark blues have not completely taken ahold.

I do find myself hanging on to the tattoo on my wrist, trying to focus on what those inscriptions mean. Unfortunately, when I try to chant in the car, it always finds the tune of what’s playing on my Nano. Not sure that’s what the Buddhists had in mind, chanting to the melody of “Gone” by Montgomery Gentry.

The support and immediate response of my friends always fills me with appreciation and comfort, even though I may not be able to express it. Whether it’s comments on Myspace, emails or coffee-drenched conversation, I embrace that response.

The oddest response, however, that really makes me appreciate the universe, is the response from women I don’t even know. My fellow travelers on blogspot.com continue to follow and track my progress. Their responses and comments to my ramblings make me humble to know that my experiences – which sometimes seems trivial and whiny and selfish – are somehow touching them and they, in turn, feel compelled to reach out to me and let them know that I am not alone.

So while I was wallowing for a short time, I do find that, as time goes by, the wallowing seems to get shorter and shorter, the depth of the wallow is more shallow, and it doesn’t take as much to pull me out of the wallow as it did before. Growth? I don’t know. Perspective? I hope so.

I am still light blue tonight, struggling to hang on to optimism. I’ve been doing a lot of work on “Cinderella” in the last two days, trying to put together a new money-begging letter to try to find more funding, all the paperwork last night, researching for hours on the internet. I find just the action of doing something helps me to feel that the possibility of success is out there, I just have to keep going until I find what I need. The CD’s came in and they are gorgeous. I can’t wait until they start selling (watch for the notice that they are available on CDBaby.com later this week). Gosh, blatant self-promotion in the midst of blue-ness. I also discovered today that I do not own a purse, it’s a bag of blatant self-promotion. It is now filled with Cinderella CD’s, postcards for “Hazard County” at the Ark (which, if you haven’t seen, run – do not walk – to see it), remnants of the fundraiser promotion, and business cards for all of my various businesses.

I am still light blue about the O.O.M.A. Earlier today, I was ready to say, forget it, I’m nuts, you’re not interested, forget I ever even thought you might be. But I’m just not there yet. I am ready, however, to stop this back and forth thing that keeps going on. I don’t know what that means but I hope the universe will provide an opportunity for clarity.

And how blue can I be, sitting on the couch, salt & vinegar chips and Coke, two sleeping Chihuahuas, one purring, sleeping Twyla, Extreme Home Makover to make me cry, Will & Grace to make me laugh. Have rehearsal again on Monday and am looking forward to that. Let’s just hope the universe is about to release all of its wonder on me to make sure that this goal gets reached. For tonight, I’ll take a long, deep night’s sleep and some silence in my head.

Oh, like you weren't expecting to hear from me

First of all, sort of have my voice back. Still kinda Elizabeth Ashley-like but at least it’s better than the croak I’ve had for two days. My poor mother was convinced I was dying. Keep being told that the voice is sexy. Once again, coming from women so…

Had a good first rehearsal for “Cinderella” today. Vanessa and Suzannah are terrific and really feel like sisters. They asked a lot of hard questions for a comedy but I’m really glad. It’ll help strengthen the script. I’ll do some work on the script in the next day or two and see what happens. I was hoping for some input from them because there are areas of the script I want to improve but I’ve been working on this one for so long, I’ve kinda lost objectivity. I’m glad they asked what they asked. Let’s see if I can improve what is already a very strong script.

Had a very brief meeting with Chairman regarding where the f*** are we going to raise the money we now need? We were both disappointed with the financial end of the fundraiser but, again, couldn’t really think of anything that we didn’t do. The CD’s came in and they’re gorgeous. Needless to say, the music on them is excellent. They’ll be going up for sale on the website as soon as CD Baby gets the CD’s, hopefully early this week. If you want one, just ask myself or Chairman when you see either of us and we’ll be happy to sell one to you for $10. It’s really worth it. Just ask anyone who was at the fundraiser on Tuesday. We did decide to go after those who may be willing to contribute more around the $1,000 mark instead of the $20 at a time theory, although those $20 do add up so don’t think we don’t want them.

I left that meeting still very discouraged. It’s frustrating to be so close to such a huge dream and see it possibly fading from view. I’ve had this happen too many times before, I am not going to let it happen this time. Maybe I could sell a kidney. I’d offer my body but I don’t think it’s worth much more than a buck in the state it’s in. I tried to rally and keep a positive view all night, figuring I’d go through the paperwork and see what could be done to help with the money.

I won’t bore you with my evening of shuffling papers, struggling with conflicting dates and generally trying to figure out how to squeeze all of the shooting schedule into as efficient a schedule as possible. And I think I did it. It’ll save us a bit on our SAG costs, move our largest costs to the end of the schedule, hopefully buying us some time to raise the money we’ll need by then. Seven hours and many revisions later, the schedule is at least in some sort of shape and I think we can make it work. We’ll see once everyone takes a look at it. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

I hate this part. I just want to direct. I don’t want to have to figure this crap out. I haven’t been able to focus on any of the creative stuff because of all of this crap. Although at least now, I’m going into rehearsal, which will hopefully inspire me and get me through the crap.

It’s very late and I should head to bed. I have to do jewelry demonstrations at Michael’s at Empire Center tomorrow from 1-3. We’re making chrysanthemum hearts. Oooh, aah. If you’re really bored, come by and check it out. It’s one of my attempts to pay my rent this month. I’m hoping some of the “crafters” will join up for my class Tuesday night. We’ll see.

Times like this, I miss having someone in my life. Someone to distract me, someone to hold me, someone to talk to. I’ve been really isolated these past few days with being ill and I never do well with that. I guess I just miss that day to day contact with someone, even if that contact wasn’t very good. Just to have another person there to… whatever. We talked about this a bit in rehearsal, how no matter how strong or independent a woman is, sometimes there’s nothing more desirous than to have someone in your life. I don’t know why. And I am firmly standing on the fence about what to do with that in my own life. Do I, don’t I, what do I say, what should I say, should I say anything? Sometimes it all seems to silly and so meaningless. I mean, if I really wanted him, wouldn’t I have done something by now? Maybe it’s just the idea that I could care about someone else more than the actual act of caring for someone else. Because if I do finally open my mouth and say something, it puts me in a very vulnerable place and leaves me open to wounding. Keeping my mouth shut may make me crazy, but at least the possibility is always there. Once the words come out, the possibility may be gone. Then what?

Just miss being held and, sometimes, that alone makes me ache.

Do I hear circus music?

So frustrated with standing in the same place. Seems that just as I think I’m moving forward, I get yanked back. Start to think my feet are under me, things are good, I know exactly what’s going on and then, boom, back to one. Pop-o-matic rules.

Personally, professionally, I keep going back to one. Frustrated with the film, which feels like it’s standing still because the bloody money just isn’t there. Don’t see how it’s going to be there. Thought I knew what to do, how to make it work, and it’s just not. I’ve been here so many fucking times before. Okay, universe, what do I need to learn? Just show me because I’m obviously dumber than a bag of hammers because I can’t see it.

Personally, back to one. Back to where I was in January with you-know-who. Maybe I should be brave and just put his name here. YOUR NAME HERE. Like those nametags you get at stupid events. Would be appropriate. This is a stupid event. It’s called love. Or lust. Or infatuation. Or hormones. Or being 43, facing 44 in literally weeks, not having had sex in a year, having not great sex for years before that. Maybe I should just throw away the thought that I could be in love with _____________ and just get laid. Maybe I’d get some perspective on ________ then. Doesn’t matter, I guess. I’d probably do that and still be wound up about __________. But at least I’d have one itch scratched. My luck, I’d end up pregnant and broke and frustrated.

Job front’s no better. Thought I had locked down this interview the other day. Perfect job. Working for a woman director, part-time, days that actually work for me, beautiful environment in Brentwood, good pay. She said she wanted me to come in Tuesday to try it for the afternoon to make sure we click. She’d call to confirm at the end of the day. Never called. Fuck.

Then had to deal with the ex yesterday, signing some papers to get rid of our time share. Stupid thing to buy. I knew it when we got it but he really wanted it. Never used it. What a waste of money. Oh, but it’s Vegas, we’ll go all the time. Yeah, right. Only went a handful of times, ended up staying at other places half the time, never did anything remotely interesting. Okay, so we saw some great shows but the rest of the time, we did nothing. Even Chairman commented when we were there because everything he’d suggest we do, I had never done/gone to/seen. He finally asked what we did when we had come before. Nothing. Just seeing the ex now brings out all this hostility in me. I’m past him in so many ways. But when I see him, I see him trying to hang on to a little of me and I think that’s what I resent. He asks so many questions about what I’m doing and how I’m doing and I want to scream at him, it’s none of your fucking business. You didn’t care this much when we were together. Why do you care now? Because I’m out of your control and you just don’t get it. Boy, I guess I just figured out what I need to do here. Let’s see, deal with some of this anger, maybe?

And what the hell is up with dropping everything and just making a complete ass out of myself? I can’t seem to find any coordination. The universe is having one big laugh at my expense. It keeps throwing banana peels under my feet. I try to be girly, I fall on my face. At Erin’s party the other night, I tried so hard to look cute (which I kinda did) but I practically fell down the stairs in my new high heels, accidentally unloaded my purse into the trash can by the door, taking everything on that table with it. Got changed at the fundraiser the other night into my little black dress, came out to make an impression because I was feeling good about how I looked, then Chairman very politely pointed out the huge black smudge across most of my left cheek. Took forever to get it off. So much for making an impression. Just now, as I reached for my laptop to vent, I knocked over a half glass of water, soaking everything stacked at the bottom of my bed. Why is everything stacked at the bottom of my bed? Because I’m trying to make a film and have no room to put anything in my room. I lay stuff out on the bed when I’m working but then have to cram everything back into a pile because I kinda have to sleep on my bed. I was going to pack up my craft stuff and use the table in the dining room but now I’m teaching craft classes at Michaels and trying to sell my journals, meaning I need the craft table.

I keep envisioning a huge hamster wheel or those hab-i-trail things they used to make for hamsters. I’m the little bugger that goes happily on her way, thinking she’s going somewhere, thinking she’s making some progress. Then, suddenly, I pop my head out and look around. Shit. I’m back to one. I fill up my cheeks with food to fortify, climb back into the wheel, and start all over again.

I’ll probably feel better tomorrow. Maybe not. I just don’t know anymore. Maybe it’s just the residual of the full moon and my head will be straight in a day or two and I’ll feel like I can take on the world. Maybe it’s the head cold and once my sinuses empty, I’ll feel better. Right now, I can’t take on posting this.

For some reason, these lyrics keep running through my mind:

On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling round the moon
Both of us circling round the moon

and

It's hard to see the future
When your back is bending over your shoes
It's hard holding on to nothing
When you've got nothing to lose

Thank you, John Mellencamp.

Of course, underscored with calliope.

SIDEBAR (STARTBAR?)
Okay, thanks to all for the praise of the little black dress last night. I enjoyed the attention, I enjoyed the girliness, I enjoyed many aspects of it. However, today, I am not enjoying the wickedly horrible head cold I achieved by running around in the cold air last night in the aforementioned little black dress. The cold is hovering between my head and my throat so I now sound like Kathleen Turner. Or Elizabeth Ashley, for those of us a little older. And while that may sound cool, it hurts like hell and I feel like crap.

Okay, on to the real blog.

The theme of therapy this week what did my two exes have that made me want to be with them and what ultimately drove us apart.

Secondly, with the current object of my affection, am I drawn by the same things as I was in the other two and what will that do if we end up in a relationship?

The first thing that sprang to mind was that my two exes were both deeply passionate, very talented men. The first ex was a chef but dreamed of owning his own restaurant, personally greeting guests at the door, being the lord of the manner of his restaurant. I loved that. I wanted that for him. I wanted to see that happen and tried to figure out what I could do to make it happen for him.

The second one was an extremely talented writer. Very passionate about his work. Very dedicated to his writing, always focused on it. I loved that. I wanted to be a part of his success in whatever way I could. I wanted to make him successful, whether he wanted to be or not.

I think the common thread in both of them was the wanting. They wanted to be successful. But I don't think either of them knew how. But their passion and their dreams inspired me to want their dreams to come true.

Maybe disappointment in their not pursuing their dreams as fully as they could have was one component of the end of both relationships. Maybe I had expectations that they were not able to fill.

I also think that when I met both of them, I was unfinished. I knew I was creative, I knew I wanted to do something creative, but I was not even the beginnings of a fully formed artist. I think that their talent and their passion drew me so that I wouldn't have to figure out my own passion. If they succeeded, I succeeded and I didn't need to stick my own neck out there to get cut off.

Then, with my first ex, I discovered dance and it opened up a passion in me that I didn't know was there. Did that discovery lead me to leaving him and his ambitions behind, making him feel like he wasn't a priority or an important part of my life anymore? Did my tentative steps as an artist somehow drive a wedge between us because I was no longer dedicated to him as I had been? Or did I forget about his dreams once mine started to fight their way to the surface? Did I cut him off because I found the thing that fulfilled me where he might not have?

With my second ex also, it seemed that the more I discovered the artist in me, the person inside of me, the more I began to follow my own muse, the more difficult it became between us. Again, did I make him feel abandoned when I no longer gave his dreams and his goals 150% of my attention? Was I counting on him to fulfill me because I didn’t know what would? And when I found what fulfilled me, did I dump him emotionally by the roadside and go on without him?

Maybe, to an extent, that’s part of it. I think I went into both relationships thinking that they would make me a complete person. Not that there was anything wrong with me but I didn’t know what I wanted to be. Or what I wanted. They knew. They had wants. I could fulfill those. I never thought about having my wants fulfilled.

Maybe going into both relationships, they expected to be the focus of my life because that’s the way I went into it. Them first, their dreams, first. I was there to be dutiful. And when I turned that focus away, I took away from them something that they needed – to be needed, to be important, to be central in my life. When they weren’t, they were abandoned. I’ll have to think on this more.

But it makes me look at my current objet d’affection. If I were to actually get the balls up to ask him the questions that need to be asked and if he responded in the affirmative and we were to tentatively begin a relationship, how much of the baggage I brought into the two previous relationships remains on the cart? He is incredibly talented, very passionate about his craft, so smart, so funny, all the things the other two were.

But I am different now. I have begun to embrace myself in a way that is more about being a whole person and not needing to find someone to fill in the blanks. For the first time in my entire life, I know what I want and what path I am on. I’ve never had that going into a relationship. I feel more wholly formed now than I ever have because now I can ask myself what I want and am actually getting answers. I’m not automatically responding to stimuli and repeating old patterns. I am becoming aware of those automatic things that get me into trouble and being able to stop them before they kick in.

I am a more fully formed artist as well. I no longer need someone to validate my talent, my gifts, my purpose. I know they’re there. Fuck you if you don’t. Boy, that feels good to say that. I am more grounded in myself than I have ever been. I don’t need someone to validate my existence and be the only central focus of my life. He also respects me as an artist right now and has in the past. He knows me as an artist, not as a being that is forming itself.

He also is a more fully formed artist and person than either of my two exes. He knows what he wants from his career and actively pursuing it. He’s achieved a certain level of success to where he is comfortable with how he approaches his career. He doesn’t need me to drive him, he’s been driving himself for a long time. As a person, he’s got such a handle on who he is and what he wants. There are a few areas I can see the insecurities and the confusion we all have about our lives. He would be creepy if he didn’t. But at least those are in the background and he’s got a good handle on them.

I hope that as I move tentatively into another relationship, whether it is with this object or another one in the future, that I am going into it as a more fully formed person, not requiring to be filled in by someone else. But rather, for us to complement each other and stand side by side, not one in front of the other. Help, guide, grow together, not rely on each other for validation and approval. Just be together, two grown-ups, two artists, two passionate people, sharing our lives.

Mixed bag o'stuff

Well, the fundraiser did not go as well as we would have liked. Although I have to say, I’m almost not surprised. It’s so hard to do something like this in L.A. because people are so jaded and not about to reach out and help their fellow artist. I can’t count how many people assured me that they were going to be there tonight because they believe in me, they believe in the project, they think it’s a great thing I’m doing. And they were not there. Again, would love to say I’m surprised but I’m just not. Put your money where your mouth is – cough up the 20 bucks then if you can’t make it. Don’t give me an excuse. Don’t tell me why you didn’t come. Cough up the money, honey, then tell me why you stood me up. Sorry, I’m a bit miffed.

But, although the numbers were very low, the small audience certainly enjoyed the music. Most people hung out for a good portion of the night instead of breezing in and then taking off after a song or two. And these bands were incredible. Annaliese sang her soulful heart out and really touched a lot of people there tonight. As always, Deena Rubinson and her “Sweet Sweet Voice” was darling and gorgeous and she shared the theme song of the film, “Goodbye Cinderella” to a rousing round of applause. Although my personal favorite is still “Blinking.” And it helped that my best friend, Zadra, was up there singing with her. Jeddrah rocked the joint, and it was the first time I’d heard a full set by her. I was blown away by her and her band and the amazing musicians that they are. Then the stunning Adonna Vichet made a special appearance and showed us all how a woman should strip the old-fashioned way. Sophisticated even in her altogether, it was such a treat to hear her sing and watch her perform. The men in the audience certainly appreciated it! The evening was topped off by a very cool performance by Nellie Bly. Missy and her band are favorites of mine. Missy usually rocks out and straddles the mike stand like nobody’s business and she did her best considering she is 8-1/2 months pregnant. She has the voice of a drunken goddess who’s been smoking too much and I adore her moxy. Her song, “Pretty Girl”, (see my recent blog for lyrics) is my theme song.

I kept finding myself saying, “Oh, I love this song” or “I love this band” or “I hope they do this one.” As the evening progressed and each band seemed to top the one before, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the talent up on the stage. It’s easy to think that an artist is talented when you listen to their CD and scan through their songs or see them perform by themselves. But as the performers stacked one on top of the other, I couldn’t help but appreciate the talent in that room tonight. And the generous spirit of these performers who gave of their time graciously and were so supportive and encouraging about this project that I found myself almost moved to tears several times.

Speaking of being moved to tears, my favorite part of the night came as a bit of a surprise. I used to belong to a group of friends who would get together once a month to set goals, plan our careers and generally challenge and push each other to succeed. Some of us participated in what became the Career Success Group for as much as five years, trying to figure out what we wanted to do with our lives and our talent and figure out how to get there. Well, most of us were there tonight, not by design, and we found ourselves standing together at a table. As I looked at these people, some of whom I have maybe grown a little distant from due to circumstances, I was so overwhelmed by how far each of us has gone in those five little years. Zadra was just trying to figure out what she wanted to do when she joined us. She couldn’t decide between acting and singing or something in between. She stumbled into performing with Damon and the Willies and has not stopped singing since. In face, she and Damon sang with Deena tonight and that was definitely one of the greatest pleasures of the night for me. Tony and Donna have done such wonderful work in the story salon that their two person show, Guess Who’s Coming To Coffee, has been accepted into two Fringe Festivals. Darryl has been directing steadily over at the Road and doing quite well there. And he’s fallen in love with my beautiful friend, Shelley, which was one of his goals as well. Maybe not Shelley specifically but to find someone to share his life with. Such a wonderful goal. And Adrienne, who has struggled so long with physical and personal issues, to see her smiling and beautiful and finally putting so much pain – both physical and emotional – behind her so that she is now beginning to embrace her life is just as amazing and rewarding as our own career goals. And Erik, who, while never really officially a member of the group, always seemed to be on the edge of it, struggling along with us to realize his own goals. And I realized, standing there in that group of friends, that I would not be here, in this place, today if it weren’t for them. Their challenges, their support, their encouragement and friendship got me through many deep, dark days and kept me going on this path when I thought I might give it up. They were the first to see and acknowledge the artist in me and made sure that I didn’t let that fall by the wayside. I was overcome with emotion as I stood there with them, realizing how easy it would have been to walk away and leave everything I now live for behind when the struggle seemed so hard. I’m so glad that I didn’t and I’m so glad that they were in my life when I needed them the most.

This made me take a good look around tonight at who had come. There were so many faces there that I love, so many people who have shown me how much they care by just showing up and putting down their $20, not expecting anything for it in return. So many artists who are going to be sharing this experience with me and just wanted to come and be a part of tonight. Although the attendance was small in numbers, it was huge in my heart. I had a hard time towards the end keeping my emotions in check as I looked from one friend to another and found their love and their warmth right there on the surface, being held out to me. I was so deeply moved by those who came up to me afterwards and told me that they are proud of me and how far I’ve come and what I’m accomplishing. That meant the world to me, as did the many phones calls and emails and messages from those who could not make it but wanted me to know that they were there in spirit.

And tonight would not have been even the minor success it was if it wasn’t for those who stepped up and chipped in and helped out. Erik and Patty handling the door, Paul just being there as the official Ark support and really offering his encouragement and praise. Tracey G. taking on camera duty and documenting the entire night. Monica for taking my digital camera and capturing what she could in the low light without blinding all of us. And, of course, my dearest Chairman, who took on the bands and kept them on time and in line, dealing with all the technical aspects of tonight while I dealt with the other stuff. This night would not have been as successful if it wasn’t for him. As always, his unconditional support of this project never ceases to amaze me and I am always grateful to have him with me in any capacity. He is truly one of my greatest friends.

So as I now rest my aching feet – still not used to high heels and short dresses – and try to settle down enough to sleep for a couple of hours before I have to get up and deal with work I ignored today, I am satisfied with knowing that Chairman and I did everything we could tonight to make it a success. And many others around us helped in whatever way they could – reposting the notices on Myspace, handing out flyers, adding their own invites to those he and I sent – and that certainly didn’t go without notice. So there is nothing we could have done better really. We did it the best we could and at least we didn’t lose our shirts (now, come on, no striptease jokes, please). Although I did love the chant for Chairman to follow Adonna in her striptease with his own. I can lay my head down tonight knowing that it was the best it could be and those who came enjoyed it. Hopefully, that good will and good karma with the bands will bring prosperity to us through Paypal. Or is that sacrilegious?

Good night and thanks again to those who came out and supported us.

On this journey...

I almost feel like this should be one of those story games, where someone begins with “I’m going on a trip and I’m going to pack….” and the rest of the dorks sitting in the circle with you fill in the blanks.

I feel like I’m filling in blanks lately.

It’s that damned full moon again.

On this journey, I have found myself. I’m still digging through the pieces, trying to put the puzzle together, but as each step, each day goes by on this journey, I feel stronger, more confident, more me than I have felt in years.

On this journey, I have discovered the many faces of love in all of its forms. Incredible friends who have embraced this new, infant me and held out their hands to help me take my first steps. Who have held me when I’ve cried and shared pieces of their hearts with me as I go. Tentative steps towards falling in love again, offering that part of my heart out to the object of my affection, whether he knows it’s offered or not. It’s still a step I have to take in order to get to the place where I can love and be loved in the way I want to. The unconditional love of my parents and my family. Can’t even look at that, it’ll make me cry.

On this journey, I have found passion. Passion for my art(s). Passion for music, which I never realized how much I missed it. Passion for the simplest, most basic things in life – singing, dancing, laughing, playing. Really embracing the artist in me has been the most incredible part of releasing this passion and allowing the artist to play.

On this journey, I have found joy. I’ve listed my joys plenty enough in previous blogs and you all know what they are. But that list continues to grow, as I can only hope it will always grow. That is the most precious of all of these gifts, the gift of pure and simple joy. I missed that so much. I lost that ability, the ability to embrace joy, and it was devastating. Now, I never, ever want to lose that again.

On this journey, I have found pain, unlike anything I have ever felt before. The pain of realizing that my marriage was over, the pain of realizing that he didn’t even realize it. The pain of walking away from the only life I’ve known since I’ve lived here and leaving all of that behind. The pain of knowing I can never go back. The pain of discovering just how much I had been hurt by him, how much anger I have at him, how much pain he inflicted on me and I just accepted it. The pain of losing friendships in sudden, heart-rending, unexpected ways. The pain of knowing that I will lose my father some day soon. Not immediately, maybe not even before the end of the year. But knowing that his time is growing small, that his battered heart keeps him hanging on, that he gives me everything that he can from that battered heart, that is a pain I’m not ready for yet.

On this journey, I am finding my destiny. I know where I am supposed to be. I know I am on the path to that. I know in my heart that all of the sacrifices will be worth it and it is where I’m meant to be.
On this journey, I have found fellow travelers. Miah (http://thesecretofmybecoming.blogspot.com/), Champagne year (http://champagneyear.blogspot.com/), Twyla (no, not my cat but http://lostinthebattle.blogspot.com/), and Xariklea (http://xariklea.blogspot.com/), as well as my own sister (http://picturethisifyoucan.blogspot.com/). It’s so incredibly moving to me that I am not alone in this journey. We are all different ages, different in our situations, from different parts of the country, yet we’re all trying to figure out where to go from here. We’re not young, we’re not children, we have lived significant lives already but are now questioning where our next 30, 40, 50 years will take us. I don’t know if it’s just that maybe this generation is the first to realize that we will live to 80 or longer, so at 40, we can start an entire new life and live it fully and completely for another 40 years. Suddenly, we have options that maybe our parents’ generation did not. It is so inspiring to know that I am not only accompanied on this journey by those who I love, who love me, but also by those I have never met – and probably never will. That we share such a common thread, common experience, common suffering and pain that we can reach across the miles through this amazing technology of 1’s and 0’s and reach out to each other and let each other know that we are not alone, that there is comfort, there is growth, there is something more that we maybe cannot see right now. This is actually what inspired this blog tonight, getting a message from Miah about the fundraiser tonight, her encouragement reaching out to me from… I’d have to look at her blog to even tell you where she’s from. But that faceless, almost nameless person reaching out to me so graciously just made me think about this journey and what I am finding.
On this journey, I think I am discovering that it is a long journey from here. There are many adventures to be had, many joys to be found, much passion to be unleashed, much pain to still be experienced in order to grow, much love in its various forms to be experienced, many other fellow travelers to pass at crossroads and signposts, much more of me to be found. I hope to keep up this journey with expectation of growth and discovery, of sharing this journey with someone who will enjoy and appreciate the path, and to have a very long time to get to the end of the journey, never regretting a single step along the way.
Good night, fellow travelers. See you on the path.

Here we go...

Two days until the “Cinderella” fundraiser and, of course, I can’t sleep. I don’t think I’ll sleep again until after we’re done shooting.

I’m nervous, anxious, excited, thrilled, terrified and about 900 other things all at once. What if only 30 people show up? What if 300 people show up? What could go wrong? What could go right?

As with everything in my life these last eight months, I’m learning so much about myself as I go through this project. I realized tonight that I spent so much time in the last few years talking about all the various things that could wrong with any project that I was working on that my focus was beginning to go to the negative first – what’s going to go wrong and how bad is it going to be? Not in an anticipatory sort of way, as in, how can we prevent this from going wrong or anticipating potential problems. Mostly just focusing on what could go wrong so that by the time we get there, my brain would be full of all the wrong things and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the experience because I’m too busy anticipating problems.

My biggest hope for Tuesday is for me to enjoy myself, enjoy this time, enjoy this event. Take a moment to realize that it is the beginning of something huge and wonderful and amazing. And if something goes wrong – and it will—that’s okay. Besides the small army of volunteers coming to help out, I know I can rely on Chairman to be right there, to lean on, to count on.

The thing that overwhelms me with this project is how it just is coming together. I don’t want to jinx anything but it does simply seem to be the time to do this. I have never had such positive support on anything I have done. I have never had the sheer power of positive thinking so focused on something I’m working on. There has always been that negative influence at my side, trying to shake me up, sucking the joy out of everything. Now that it’s gone, nothing seems impossible.

I’m finding more and more strength and confidence in myself as I go through each little thing that it takes to put this project together. Had some crew interviews tonight, which went well. I think I found my director of photography and a lovely woman to take on-set shots. There is a feeling I have to learn to get past of missing/wanting/needing someone at my side to verify my instinct, to make sure I’m doing the right thing, making the right decision. I have not been allowed to rely on myself and my own intuition for so long that it feels foreign and strange to listen to that strong voice, that strong presence, that strong force inside of me that tells me I’m doing it right. But that’s what I want – to free that voice and allow that strength to preside over everything I do. Trust that inner voice, because it rarely leads me astray.

I’m currently spending a lot of time listening to music I have selected for the film, to make sure I’m familiar with the music that my bands are going to be playing on Tuesday. It’s out of respect for their contributions that I feel I should be fairly familiar with all of their music that I do have. Listening right now to Nellie Bly and “Pretty Girl,” whose lyrics I love. It’s me.

“I don’t have no pretty girl hands,
I don’t dress quite right.
My face is weathered,
my teeth are yellow, not white.
But I can ease any man’s load,
My back is strong as hell,
Maybe I’m not graceful
but I stood up when I fell.

I don’t have no pretty girl spells,
I don’t faint nor blush.
My skin is dry like leather,
my feet are dirty and rough.
But I can ease any man’s pain.
These hips are strong as steal.
Maybe I’m not dainty
but I can steer.

I don’t need no pretty girl mouth
Cuz I don’t talk too sweet.
My lips are thin and tight,
My eyes are lined and deep.
But I can please any man’s mind
These thoughts are mine to keep.
Baby, I’m not careful.
These words are mine to speak.”

Those lyrics and Deena’s from “Goodbye Cinderella” -- “what good does it do/to run with one shoe/if nobody’s following you.”

Once again, I find myself enjoying discovering the gift that music is. I’m so glad that so many people came forward with thoughts, suggestions and CD’s for me to listen to – Zadra, Chairman, Peter, Shanti, Misha, Anna B., and I know I’m missing many others because so many people gave me music. It’s an area I was always told I didn’t know what I’m doing in and yet I find that I really do. I love the music selected for the soundtrack not only for the music itself, but what these women have to offer as their views on life, their opinions.

Sorry, I shouldn’t blog late at night when I’m tired because lately it’s become a rambling, almost incoherent series of unconnected thoughts. But I guess that’s where I am right now. Can’t wait to get to – and through – Tuesday. Then maybe I can focus on the directing part of the gig instead of the producing part. Once I know how much money we raise, I can then move forward knowing what our resources are.

At this point, I will ask for your positive energy, good thoughts and many, many prayers that Tuesday is successful. I again thank you all for your love, your encouragement, your support through all of my crazy, full-moon-driven nights and endless ponderings on life itself. When “Cinderella” succeeds, it will certainly be largely because of this energy and support I feel from all of you. And I can never thank you enough for that gift.

Good night, sleep well for me and I’ll see a batch of you on Tuesday!

Damned fence

Should be in bed, should be asleep but am not. Okay, I’m in bed, in my Nick & Nora’s with the sheep on them, Twyla purring nearby. My eyes are sleepy but they are apparently the only body part that is.

I’ve put myself in a crazy-making situation and don’t know what to do about it. Can’t move forward, can’t move back. Can only stand in this moment, thinking, “what the hell am I doing?” Feeling like I’m making an idiot of myself. Feeling like I’m so transparent and silly and a million other things. Yet I’m frozen in place, same place I have been for so long. Can’t seem to cut loose and just let it go. Can’t find that comfortable place again that I was in for such a short time.

Felt like – and feel like – spilling my guts tonight, laying it all on the table, whether in person or in blog-o-sphere. But, of course, I won’t do anything but obsess and worry and continue with the crazy-making.

I’m a grown woman, two marriages and a handful of relationships in the past. Why can’t I figure this out? I hate fence-sitting and, yet, here I am. Firmly planted on that damned fence. I guess it’s gonna take a hurricane to get me off of it. Or something to draw me to anther fence, to sit, to obsess, to make an ass of myself over there. At least it would be something different.

Reaching...

I’m in a weird place recently. It feels like a crossroads lies in front of me and I’m approaching the fork. There’s a signpost like the one in “M.A.S.H.” listing all of the different places I can go and places where I have come from. I guess the post would read something like this – Winnipeg, 2 divorces, China, parents, friends, career #1, career #2, career #3, pain, heartbreak, broken promises, healing, life, love, unknown future…

I’ve never been happier in my professional life as I am right now. The fundraiser on Tuesday is (I’m hoping) shaping up to be very successful. People are starting to talk about how to contribute if they can’t make it (www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com, in case you were wondering – any amount will do) and even talking about investing in the film. The energy and the support and the just mind-blowing freight-train-ness of this project is almost overwhelming. I’m actually having a hard time accepting the fact that this is going to happen and it’s going to be amazing. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop – and it may still drop. But the love, support, enthusiasm and general good karma seems to all finally be in place for me to realize one of the biggest dreams of my life – my first feature film. I’m getting to make it with some of the most amazing people and some of my best friends – Chairman, of course, Peter, Erik, Patty, A.J., Misha, my great friends, Donna and Dean, two wonderful actresses in the lead – Suzannah and Vanessa. I can’t even name all the wonderful people who are going to be at my side. It’s overwhelming to have that much unconditional support.

I guess I’ve spent so much time in the last few years having the other shoe drop and being told all the negative things that are/could/should/will/would happen that I can’t seem to deal with not having that voice in my head. I’m actually finding myself waiting to be told I can’t do something, I can’t have something, I can’t actually achieve this dream because of… I don’t know what. That somehow I am lacking and don’t deserve to achieve this. That I have talent but only as much talent as someone close to me will allow me to have. I’m waiting to be told what a failure I will be and that I cannot possibly handle this.

Sometimes, the hardest thing for me to deal with is knowing that I accepted the criticism and the badgering and the negativity for so many years. That I allowed all of that to seep into my soul and haunt my creative life. That I never trusted myself, my vision, my heart and soul because the one person whose opinion mattered the most to me could only, as time went by, diminish my gifts instead of encourage them. I don’t know why and I don’t understand why he had to do this. I just know that it’s made it difficult at times for me to fully enjoy and experience the wonderful things going on in my life because I haven’t exorcised all of his demons yet. That’s when I realize it’s only been eight months since I left him. Eight months. After 16 years. It seems like only a few days ago and it feels like years ago.

I’m so proud of how far I have come and I’m so glad I have come as far as I have. I’m glad I’ve been working with this wonderful therapist who is helping me find a way to make sure that I am present in my life and that I don’t allow myself to be buried again. But there are still days when I see how far I have to go, how much pain and anger and hurt I still have to deal with. I feel the pressure and the negativity waiting around the corner, hovering for the opportunity to leap in and destroy this precious balance I have worked so hard to achieve.

Personally, I am also standing at the crossroads, trying to figure out what I want in my life and what I want my life to be. Financially, I am really reaching a difficult point where I will have to bite the bullet and find a way to work at a job while juggling the film. Not sure how to do that but it’s a necessity. I see the potential on the horizon for several of my little ventures to come together into something successful but, right now, it’s just beyond my reach.

So many things seem just beyond my reach right now and, for the most part, that’s okay. I like to live my life just out of reach. That keeps me going, keeps me growing, keeps me reaching out to touch those dreams, those passions, those nuggets of wonder that are so rich and so precious when I actually get my fingers wrapped around them.

I’m hoping that’s true about my heart. That’s the biggest struggle for me right now. Part of me is ready to find someone to be with, thinks it knows who it wants to be with, and wants to jump in and say, “hey, guess what, I’m in love with you, you doofus. What’dya think?” The other part of me wants to bury its head in the sand and just be for a while. Crossroads. Two different choices, two different signposts. I want to wrap my fingers around what is just in front of me but it doesn’t seem close enough yet.

I feel like I’ve spent the last three or four years looking so hard into myself and into my relationship and into him that, at this point, I’m done looking. I’m tired of examining every thought, every feeling, every look, every touch. I’m tired of figuring out where I learned to react this way and where the hurt comes from. I’m tired of celebrating every little success as I learn to open up and allow others in. I’ve looked and I’ve looked and I’ve looked and I’ve looked. I’ve looked so hard at myself that I’m not sure I’m seeing anything anymore.

I think I want to just be for a while. Look at the signpost and see what choices there are. Maybe sit on the side of the road and see who comes up to join me instead of chasing down people to walk with me. Gather my thoughts, gather my emotions, or just release them into the wind. No expectations of results (other than the practical ones that have to be met – like the film, job, etc.). No examination of the soul. No test on whether or not I’m learning, growing, striving. Just allow what I’ve learned, how I’ve grown, what I’ve seen some time to blossom without tending. Then, eventually, get up, dust off my butt, and study the signpost a little closer to see where I want to go next. And hopefully, find a hand in mine that will help me decipher the signpost and move forward to the next adventure.

Heart in hand

I want to go back – before there was a possibility, an inkling, a potential put out there. Before the whisper got into my ear. When it was simple and just the company was enjoyed. When I didn’t think, didn’t worry, didn’t contemplate everything.

I spent the last years of my marriage giving my heart and my soul to a man who didn’t know what to do with them. Instead, he left my heart laying there, on the ground, beating, bleeding, calling out for him to pick it up and make it better. I finally had to take it back and hide it deep within myself to protect it from getting shattered even more.

And now, I’m doing it again. Holding my heart out in my hands to one who doesn’t see it there. At least he’s not knocking it out of my hands and kicking it around the room. I think I’m doing that quite effectively by myself. But the hints and glimpses of something imagined make it difficult to keep holding it out there.

Maybe I should pull it back and put it away. After all, it’s only a gift if he takes it.

Jumping

Since poetry seems to be the requirement this week, here's a shot:

I stand
toes
on the edge,
looking
all
the
way down.
Heart
in my throat.

I jump.

It'll end
either in
a beautiful swan dive
and I'll
catch the wind
and
soar.

Or

you'll find me
embedded
in the roof
of someone's car
and ask

what the hell was she thinking?

Getting their freak on...

What the hell is it with the freaky guys and karaoke? Okay, I realize that’s kind of a silly question in and of itself but...

Last week, singing at the mike, doing my karaoke thing. Guy who I was introduced to as “so and so’s brother” grabs my ass on his way back from the bathroom. Has the nerve to wink at me as he passes by.

Okay, so, that’s bad enough. Tonight, however, the freaks grew braver.

I’m singing Bonnie Raitt, still feeling a little funky cuz of the residual flu effects. But I’m holding my own.

Suddenly, Freako Boy is leaning into my personal space, like he’s trying to look down my shirt. Strange, since I’m wearing a turtleneck. He’s not looking at the screen, he’s leaning waaaay into me. Then his shorter, weirder, uglier friends sidles up and opens his wallet and shows it to me. WTF?!!!!

I look over at my chick-posse, trying to do the subtle head tilt, look at the freaks thing. They smile and wave at me. I mouth “help me”. They just shrug.

Meanwhile, I can smell Freako Boy’s breath. Not pleasant. They continue to hover.

What I really wanted to do – in such an Ally McBeal moment – was take the microphone and beat them both to death with it. Or take my hand, shove it firmly into the face and push that freak and his sidekick all the way out on to Hollywood Blvd., to be with the other freaks.

But, instead, for some insane reason, I was polite and just tolerated them until I got to the end of the song.

Peter came straight over to me afterwards and said, “Wow, the freaks really do come after you.” Thanks. I didn’t know this.

The girls then apologized and said that they didn’t see Freako Boy and Sidekick. There were that usual bunch of guys hanging out, blocking the front table view. I forgive them – kind of.

All I know is that at this rate, I’m never gonna get laid. And if I do, it’s going to be freaky—and not the good kind.

She's baaacckk!

Wow, four days sick in bed gives one way too much time to think.

The klowns set up their big tops somewhere around 5 AM on Monday, after about the third time I threw up nothing (I always see them as Killer Klowns as opposed to Ringling Bros. clowns). They had their themes down, having apparently practiced for a while after I banished them the last time. This time, however, they waited until I had no immune system and was too weak to fight them. They moved in, set up and made a lot of noise.

Theme #1 – Object of my affection has no use for me whatsoever. I’ve pushed him away, destroyed whatever friendship existed and now he sticks around because he doesn’t know how to leave. I manage to chase away every man I find important (including one very painful one that apparently the clowns were now trying to convince me was my fault). I have too high expectations and I frighten away men who only want to be friends. I expect too much from them, I demand too much from them, I am just too damned much and I deserve to be alone for the rest of my life. I have already lost this very lovely man and it’s all my fault.

Theme # 2 – The film is never going to happen. It’s just another in a long series of failures that I have in my wake and who am I kidding? I’ve never been able to do something like this before, what makes me think I can do it now? I’m just going to disappoint everyone and make a fool out of myself yet again, leaving me with nothing, which is what I deserve. I’m kidding myself with the thought that I have talent, skill or anything redeemable that would make anyone want to actually do this with me. They’re all just tolerating me, no one really believes in me or this project. So I should just quietly let it die and hope nobody notices.

Theme #3 – I should have never left my marriage. At least I knew what hell it was. At least there was money coming in and I didn’t have to burden my already over-burdened parents with paying my bills. I should get my shit together, give up these foolish dreams, get a fucking job already and behave like an adult. I’m almost 44 years old, I shouldn’t be living like this.

And so it goes on…

Four days of this.

I woke up this morning at 6 AM (thanks to my feisty furball who was apparently chasing the klowns around the room) and immediately thought “what the f***?!” Immediately, the calliope music stopped. I could almost hear the whoosh as the big tops came down and the klowns slunk their pasty-faced butts out of my head.

My brain kicked in and a million things that needed to be done crowded out all the circus sounds and I knew I was on my to recovery.

I also realized, as I have been groggily working my way through things today, that I have been waiting. Waiting for someone to tell me it’s okay to do the things that need to be done – or rather plan the things that need to be planned. I’m so used to having to get approval from a significant other about even my artistic endeavors that I realized I was figuring I would have to make sure everyone else was good with what I had planned for the film before I went ahead and planned it, including scheduling meetings, rehearsals, etc.

I woke up today and realized that it’s all on me. Yes, there are some things that I do need to get input on because I am unsure or because it does involve numerous schedules, etc. But for the most part, this is my show. MY SHOW. Wow. How hard is that for me to get through my thick, stupid head? MY SHOW. I don’t need to wait on anyone. If something doesn’t work, I can always change it, but to wait around for some unknown approval is just plain silly.

Four days of being sick made me realize that it’s now time for me to take the stick, take control, run the klowns over if they won’t get out of the way, and get on with the rest of my life… starting with my film. My film.

Felled by the flu...

Flu bug caught up to me late Sunday night. At first, I thought it was just my bronchitis acting up until... well... I'll spare you the details but it's definitely the flu.

Been in bed since then. Ate something for the first time last night and it finally stayed down. Still very, very weak this morning but feeling halfway human.

Frustrated because there's so much work to do on Cinderella and I haven't been able to do anything but sleep and lay on the couch. I get winded just going from my bedroom to the living room. Hopefully, I'll be able to eat more today and get my strength back. I've got over 50 applications for crew positions on Cinderella to go through, which I am thrilled about, and stuff to do for the fundraiser (which by the way is two weeks from today - if you can't come, give us your $20 anyway!).

I guess it's better I'm sick now than a week from now or when we're shooting. I just hate it. Being sick not fun!