Um, wow.

Warning - I'm not sure this post makes any sense at all. Read at your own risk.

It’s been a day.

I became a Buddhist today. Not exactly sure how that happened. It kind of sneaked up on me. My darling friend, Brad, introduced me to chanting over the summer. He’s a Buddhist and I’ve always been fascinated by it so I was excited to learn how to chant. He and his friends who were there also explained the philosophy behind the sect of Buddhism they belong to and I was intrigued. He finally invited me to a meeting, as did his friend, CJ, and I went today just to check it out. Brad wasn’t there because he was out of town all weekend and overslept but CJ was there as well as one or two other faces I knew. The meeting was amazing, stuff was explained and folks shared. Okay, oversimplification but I’m really, really tired and have other stuff to talk about.

At the end of the meeting, Christine, one of the district leaders, was talking to me about my chanting - how often, what benefit, etc. When you chant in this particular sect of Buddhism (SGI - http://www.sgi-usa.org/), you chant to a sacred scroll called the gohonzon. I wish I could explain more but I’m a baby at this. Check out the website for more info. Anyway, Christine asked me what I chanted to and I told her I usually had my laptop in front of me because I was using the audio guides on the SGI site to help me chant. She asked me if I’d like my own gohonzon. Huh? I had this idea that I had to earn it or something. Not that it was just given to me when I felt ready for it. I thought there’d be a test or an initiation or something. Nope. I said, sure, not entirely sure what it all meant. Next thing I know, there’s a little ceremony going on and Christine and CJ and Brad are planning to come to my place to enshrine my gohonzon (yes, there’s a little shrine involved) tonight.

Tonight.

Have I mentioned I’m moving? Just across the courtyard but still. And I have to be moved before 8 AM. I’ve been moving for the past week. I’ve hit the “holy cow, where did I get all this crap” stage today. Had to find folks to help move the 52” screen TV and the couch. The place is a disaster because, hey, I’m moving.

And you want to enshrine my gohonzon tonight.

I could have said no. But then Christine offered to help move my couch and I was in.

Okay, kind of selfish but I needed the help!

On top of all this, there is a myriad of emotions coursing through me today. Moving always sets me off, as it does everyone, I’m sure. But it’s made me miss my folks. My dad is not doing well and I miss him terribly. Mom sounds like she misses me and that makes me miss her. And finding a batch of their stuff just made me sit down and cry.

And somehow, I feel like a failure on this move. I couldn’t afford the old apartment - FAIL! I should have been able to - FAIL! Etc. You get the picture.

And finding stuff from RJ, which makes my heart break all over again. Photos of us, smiling at the camera, arms around each other. Were we really ever that happy? Were we just good at posing as happy? Again, EPIC FAIL! How could those people in those pictures not be together. Look at them!! They’re smiling! They’re happy! It must be love.

And feeling terribly alone. Monica had her boyfriend helping this week and he’s been awesome, not just for her but for me. He’s helped move a ton of stuff and even bought us a coffee table because we desperately needed one. He’s a great guy and a terrific boyfriend.

And I don’t have one.

It’s me. All me. Just me. Monica and Brian helped but it was still down to me. Made me feel very alone. Very no-boyfriend-y. Very never-gonna-ever-have-a-boyfriend-y.

Which lead me to (stay with me now, I’ll get to a point eventually) the current wonderful man in my life - Brad. I guess I’m blessed that I always have wonderful men around me who make me feel giddy and terrific and amazing. But they always seem to come with one thing I can’t overcome - a committed relationship to someone else. I can love them, I can adore them but I can never have them. So I’m back to very-no-boyfriend-y. I’m trying not to let my heart get carried away with this one, although it’s way too late. But the sensible side in me is winning out lately and I’m trying to reign my heart in before it gets shattered again because I’m dumb and have lost my head over someone I can’t have.

So, back to tonight. I agreed to let the Buddhists descend on my disastrous apartment. I’m glad they’re gonna help me move because it took me two hours just to clear off and dismantle and reassemble the giant Ikea bookcase in my living room. A nice group coming - CJ, Brad, Christine and me.

I have to evaluate why I’m doing this before they come. Am I doing it to impress Brad because I want him to love me? My constant fault. I’ll do anything, become anything, just to be loved. But I am learning, with men like him and Ranger Smith in my life, that it is possible to be loved by someone without having to be their girlfriend or wife or significant other. They can love me just because I’m me. Broken and battered and emotionally damaged. I am their friend and they love me. Wow. Um. Wow.

I realize I am doing this because I want to do this. My grandfather was a Buddhist and I have always wanted to know more about it. I had gone to a Buddhist wedding years ago and was fascinated by the chanting and what it all meant and how it all worked. And here was this incredible friend offering this to me. Of course I’m going to do it. If I don’t like it, I can stop. Doh.

Brad arrived before the others and we discussed the placement of the shrine, etc. I was suddenly overwhelmed again because I felt like I somehow didn’t deserve this honor. After all, I’m just starting. How can I have my own shrine? I chant at a snail’s pace and don’t really understand what I’m doing. How can you honor me this way?

Because that’s what Buddhists do.

CJ and Christine arrive with the small wooden shrine -- which I can paint and decorate any way I want -- and the four of us kneel in the space beside my bed as CJ sets up the shrine. We begin to chant and it’s amazing. Just the four of us but I was overwhelmed by the sense of love and beauty coming out of that chanting. They weren’t here just to chant. They were here to help me and welcome me and share with me this beautiful, special moment. I had tears in my eyes as CJ unrolled the gohonzon in its new home in my plain and simple shrine. Then we sat and talked for a while about what this meant to me.

Christine then asked the loaded question. What am I chanting for?

Well, duh, finances. Can’t pay my rent, can’t pay my bills. Don’t need to be filthy rich but need to survive.

Then I tried to explain that, while I want to leave no-boyfriend-y land, what I really want is a peaceful heart. I want my heart to stop chasing what it can’t have and find its own peace. Whether that means someone in my life or accepting the solitariness of my life remains to be seen. But I want my heart to stop running, stop hiding, stop being restless and just be peaceful. That’s what I truly want. And until it’s peaceful, I’m not sure I can share it with anyone else.

I had to stop there because I couldn’t talk anymore. Too much emotion, too many thoughts.

I had started out the evening feeling very alone and very solitary because I had so much to move. Monica was definitely moved out although she was wiling to help but she was at the end of her tolerance for moving stuff. I had been standing in the old place by myself, thinking, this is it. This is my life. Me. Just me. This may be how it’s supposed to be. Having men in my life like Brad and Ranger Smith to love me without hurting me, without breaking my heart like the OOMA did. Maybe solitary isn’t so bad if I can be loved by these amazing men. But even that felt lonely and empty.

And then the Buddhists descended (bushel of Buddhists? Battle of Buddhists?) and surrounded me with love and blessing and beauty. And added to that, Beth was able to come by and help out. And Monica, burned out though she was, carried her fair share of my shit tonight.

And now, I am alone again. Sitting on my bed, nursing my aching body, afraid to look at the piles and piles and piles and piles of crap I have to now organize and find places for. So I shut my door.

But though I am alone with only my purry, barking cat with me, I’m not sure I am that alone. The love that filled this room just hours ago hovers in the air, like beautiful incense, just enough to let you know it’s there. Maybe solitary and alone aren’t the same thing. One implies emptiness and hollow and nothingness. Alone. The other says standing by one’s self but with pride and fortitude. Solitary.

What’s my point? There probably isn’t one and I’m sorry I’ve dragged you all the way to the bottom of the page without one. Wait. Let me make a point up, so you’re not disappointed.

Loving and being loved can take many forms. I guess I have to figure out how to love in those different forms so that I won’t be hurt by my expectation and so that I won’t drive away the men that I love. Be grateful for the love that I have, because I do have a lot of it. And find ways to return that love that will let the recipient know that he is loved, not in a crazy, oh-my-god-I’m-going-to-stalk-you way, but in a you-make-me-happy-you’re-in-my-life way. And I think I’m making huge steps in that direction.

More "Mastermind"

Here are a few frame grabs from the film. I love the way it's looking. It's the hardest I think I've ever worked on a shoot but also the most fun and I think it just might be my best work to date.

Mastermind and his evil laugh:




Mastermind in all his evil glory:




Liz Lasseter, intrepid girl reporter. How will she get out of this?




The start of one of the greatest -- and most twisted -- love stories of our time:



More to come... stay tuned...

So we wrapped the “Mastermind” shoot with a marathon weekend of filming. I think it was about 20 hours in less than 36 hours. Now, I’ve done my fair share of 48 hour films but this weekend really pushed me hard.

And it was sooooo much fun.

The pleasure of working with people you love and admire and who love and admire you right back. I would say it wasn’t work but it really was. But at the end of the day, no one really wanted to walk away. It was a bit melancholy to put a pin in this project because it’s been so special for all of us. But I know it’s just the start of something special because this project has felt truly blessed.

The biggest problem was a huge lighting issue on Sunday that set filming back by four hours Lighting is not my strong suit and so it took probably twice as long as it would have for someone who know what they hell they were doing. The other problem was that I had to be behind the camera. I’m pretty good with it but I’d rather have someone else shooting so I can concentrate on my actors and get the performance on camera instead of getting the shot. And I’ve had a great cinematographer for the first three weeks. Oh, well. I think I got what I needed. And it’s all gonna be comic book-y and blown out so I think it’ll be fine.

The biggest entertainment of the weekend was interacting with Brad Wilcox as Mastermind. He had warned me that it might be a weird weekend with him in character and it was a bit. It was fun, though, to see Brad behave like a six-year-old who was wearing his mother’s bath towel as his cape. Yet as soon as the camera rolled, the villainy and the power came out.

Highlights of the weekend:

1. Watching Brad and Beth bond. They are connected in this project in a fantastic, twisted way. I loved the moments when they would just either reach out and embrace each other during the first part of the shoot, when they were Liz and JD and needed to be connected, and the way they stood toe-to-toe, challenging each other as Liz and Mastermind. Whatever they did worked. Their chemistry is amazing.

2. Going into the parking lot at Swordplay to get Brad to come to set. Usually, he and Beth would hang out at the table, smoking, talking, working. No Brad. Look around the parking lot, it’s 2:30 AM, and I look up the staircase next to the door and there is Mastermind, backlit like Janusz Kaminski had lit him, grinning down at me with his best evil grin.

3. I’m setting up a shot at Swordplay, Beth is deep in her preparation for the shot, I see Mastermind sneak up behind her and scare the shit out of her. She smacks him, calls him a dick and they just grin at each other like preschoolers.

4. Beth really enjoying handcuffing herself to the chair.

5. Giving notes to Brad in Mastermind mode about making sure a bit of his alter-ego, JD, comes out on one particular line to make sure there is an emotion and depth to the character. Mastermind just shakes his head at me and says, very quietly but very intensely “no.” I say “yes”. Brad tries not to smile and insists, “no”, putting on his best Mastermind face. I smile right back at him. “Yes”. I poke him in the chest. “It has to come from here”, and poke harder at his heart, “and not here” and poke his head. He shakes his head and pokes his own chest. “There’s nothing here.” But his grin says otherwise.

5. At the end of her part of the shoot, the look on Beth’s face when I tell her she’s wrapped. As she’s getting ready to go, I gave her a big hug and realized how sad I was that we were done and that she’d be gone. The set felt very empty for the rest of the night.

6. A small, private toast after everyone was gone with Brad and my flask of Jamesons.

My favorite shot of the weekend:




All in all, a wonderful, exhausting, incredible shoot that I think it going to result in an amazing piece of film.

Now, on to build the plan on how we’re going to conquer the world…

Who put the bar all the way up there?

Some day, maybe I’ll learn how to not set ridiculously high goals for myself.

I’ve spent the last few weekends filming “Mastermind”, the one act play I directed over the summer about the amnesiac who thinks he just might be a supervillain. It’s been going incredibly well. Beth is so beautiful and feisty and incredible as Liz. And Brad as JD is by far one of the most talented and vulnerable actors I have ever worked with. They have been breaking my heart as I edit and making me so excited to get this project out into the world for everyone to see.

However, we got behind because I set very high goals as to what we could get shot and we fell short. Not unexpected and not unusual. And we’ve been shooting with natural light so we are victims of the sun. Last week, we needed just one more hour of sun and we didn’t get it.

So today, we shoot that last hour, break, then start at 8 PM until god knows when, nap, then setart again at noon in Mastermind’s lair (which I can’t wait for!) and shoot till we’re dead. We also have some short promos to do to get y’all excited about seeing “Mastermind” in all its glory.

I had an amazing rehearsal with Brad yesterday as the new and improved Mastermind on crack. I’m excited because he’s really ratcheted up the creepy, scary, crazy factor without going too far and I think it’s going to translate beautifully on film (video).

But I’ve lost my director of photography to a paid gig. He was amazing and shot so quick and got to much it’s incredible. I’m short of crew. Don’t have the “hostages” I need for the bank scene. Kind of the usual stuff guerrilla filmmakers go through.

But what has me up and writing this morning is that I’m scared. And I realized that I’m not afraid of not finishing. That’s not an issue. We will finish… somehow. The cast and crew may not be happy with me when we’re done but we’ll be done. I’m afraid about shooting it myself because Los did such an amazing job and I’m not sure I can match him.

But what’s really making me afraid is that I’m afraid I’ll disappoint. I’m afraid that this is going to be the one that I’m going to absolutely tank on and be proved for the fraud that I am. That without a brilliant DP, I’m nothing. Without someone else calling the shots and guiding me, I suck. And that I’m going to let down mostly Brad and Beth because they have put as much into this as I have. Maybe more, in some ways, because as actors, it’s their hearts and souls that are up there on the screen.

I’ve been trained that to disappoint is the gravest of all sins. Fail, sure, that’s expected. Drop the ball, well, duh, that’s what you do. Disappoint. Oh, shit. The world will come to an end if you don’t outshine, outsmart, outperform everyone else.

And with every project, that fear grows. With every project, I work with people whose talent takes mine up a notch. Which just makes the expectation even greater and the potential for disappointment even higher.

This project is one of those special ones. The play was the sentimental favorite of “Hurricane Season” at Eclectic Company Theatre this year, if I do say so myself. And it worked so well and was such an incredible experience that I feel like I have to top that. I have gained two fantastic friends out of it and they have put their trust in my hands. If this project comes out the way I want to, I think it could be something truly amazing.

But the clowns are circling their cars and honking their horns and screaming obscenities at me. Who am I to expect that something I do will succeed? Despite recent evidence to the contrary. I am going to let all these talented people down and, as always, I will be left with no one there. They will leave me, as all the other wonderful, talented and special people have done. Because I will disappoint them, as I apparently have done with the other beautiful people who are no longer in my life. I can’t possibly live up to this expectation.

And it’s also the thought that I’ll disappoint Brad. There’s something about the men in my life -- the truly special men in my life -- that makes me even more afraid that I’m going to do something wrong and disappoint them. Because that means I’ll lose them, which I guess has proven to be true. I let both my ex-husbands down in some way, otherwise why we would not still be together? I’ve somehow disappointed the OOMA and the pieces of my heart because they are no longer either. It terrifies me that I am going to once again do something and lose this muse, this very talented, beautiful man and lose him as a friend as well.

So I’m trying to not let the fear eat at me today as I go. I have to teach three classes before we start today so I’ve got all that time to obsess on how much I’m going to disappoint everyone. I’m not sure how to battle that. I’m trying to just metaphorically keep my head down and stay focused, just looking at one thing at a time instead of trying to absorb the entire weekend. Just breathe and focus. Breathe and focus. Breathe and focus.

We’ll see how that works.

Climbing up from the end of the rope

It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Money is non-existent. I mean, truly non-existent. I had to take home toilet paper from work the other day to make sure we had a roll at home. Once again, can’t pay my rent. Haven’t paid for Bette, my new convertible, and the woman who sold it to me is so tolerant. I owe the wonderful Beth money she lent me over the summer.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.

On top of that, I’ve lost two classes a week, cutting my income by $400 a month.

And my father has been given three to six months to live.

Fuck.

Hard not to throw in the towel. All I could think is that this is how soccer moms end up having sex in their SUV for money because it gets that bad, that tight.

All I could think is that I don’t want to work at Starbucks. I don’t want to work retail. I don’t want another pay-the-rent job. I want directing (or writing) to be my pay-the-rent job. But right now, it seems so incredibly far away.

Once again, I find myself thinking, I’m 47 years old. I should have a better handle on my shit than this. I hear the voices in my head screaming FAILURE!

I had some hard decisions to make today. I finally broke down and called our landlord, who had offered us another two bedroom apartment in the same complex but it’s $200 less a month, which means Monica can afford to pay half the rent, dropping my rent to $725 from $1,000. And I need it because I can’t sleep. I’m incredibly stressed because I’m so behind on bills and payments and everything else. Luckily, our landlord is amazing and gets it. So we’re moving by December 1.

FAILURE!

I should be able to pay my rent. I should be able to make money. I type 100 wpm. I have mad skills. But I want my days to allow me to direct, otherwise there’s no point.

I’m frustrated that I don’t have the life I want. I hate constantly facing choices that seem to want to pull me away from what I feel I am destined to do. Maybe it’s what is supposed to make me stronger and make sure I am doing what I want to do. Maybe it’s just the universe fucking with me. I don’t know.

And on top of all of that, the shoes are still on my floor because we had to extent filming another week. (FAILURE!) So Brad’s shoes are at the end of my bed, feeding the longing to have someone fill them. It seems so far away to me that I might find someone to leave his shoes at the end of my bed. And right now, I could use someone like that. Arms to hold me, whisper good things in my ear, all that stuff. Make me feel not so alone.

The one glowing light is that the “Mastermind” shoot is going really well. The crew is amazing. I have a DP who knows what he’s doing, who I don’t have to explain everything to. He just picks up the camera and shoots these amazing pictures. The handful of folks who have come out to help have great attitudes, great enthusiasm and great passion for what we’re doing.

And my actors. This is my greatest joy.

Beth. Girl crush.



She looks like a movie star in this film. Her eyes are exquisite and she just leaps off of the screen with her honesty and her soul on her face. She is beautiful, she is talented, she is gorgeous. The chicks are going to be lining up for her after this. On top of that, she brings a core and a groundedness to Liz that is incredible. I’m so glad we did the show over the summer and that she had the time to really grow this beautiful, complex, wonderful character.

And Brad. His heart in his wondrous eyes breaks my heart.



Takes my breath away. His JD is so complex, so complicated, yet so incredibly vulnerable and fragile. He’s taken what he brought to the stage and deepened it and make the character even better, if that was even possible. I can’t wait to see what he does with the supervillain, Mastermind, when we start to shoot that next week.

And Brad and Beth together are breathtaking.



Monica watched some of the footage tonight and it took her breath away. Which makes me happy because that’s what I wanted. I want to have your heart touched by these characters, including Mastermind, when we get there. I’m very happy with my vision and happy that it’s coming true right before my eyes. It’s what’s gotten me through the past couple of weeks of pain and torture and stress and anger. It’s what’s gotten me to keep hanging on to the hope that I am doing what I should be doing. It’s what’s stopped me from just throwing in the towel and giving up and finding a “real” job and just living.



And Brad’s shoes at the end of my bed.

I’m hanging on to the knot at the end of the rope, hoping that this change today will bring relief and release, letting me focus on getting my life back on track. Hoping this change will move the energy and help me to bring someone into my life who will not only leave his shoes at the end of my bed, but maybe leave a little piece of his heart behind with me whenever he is not present. Someone who will want to leave his shoes at the end of my bed and leave the pieces of his heart with me.

The Power of Shoes

There are men’s shoes sitting at the foot of the bed. That was enough to send me into a really weird place last night.

I was shooting a web series/short film in my apartment all day yesterday. It’s based on “Mastermind”, the one act play I directed over the summer that I absolutely fell in love with. The original actors are returning, the writer has given his blessing and I have a fantastic crew involved.

The shoot went great. Had some issues, which every shoot has, but nothing huge or panic-inducing. Just ordinary production crap.

At the end of the shoot, my lead actor, Brad, was packing up his stuff. He asked if he could leave his wardrobe here since we’ll be shooting again on Sunday and he thought it would be easier to leave it at my place than haul it back and forth. Made sense to me.

Everyone packed up and left. I crashed for a bit and took care of a few things before finally hauling my butt to bed.

As I was getting ready for bed, I tidied up the production stuff left in my bedroom, because we had been shooting in there the latter part of the day. Once everything was cleaned up, I was left with two pairs of men’s shoes at the foot of my bed.

That stopped me.

Men’s shoes. At the foot of my bed.

I miss that.

Men’s shoes.

I opened my closet to put something away and Brad’s wardrobe was hanging in there - a button down shirt, pair of pants, a thermal t-shirt. Men’s clothes. In my closet.

I miss that.

Doesn’t help that I adore Brad, as does everyone who knows him. He’s a wonderful guy and has the best, most amazing energy. But he has a girlfriend so I just am glad he’s a part of my life and that he’s become such a good friend.

But his shoes were at the end of my bed.

I sat on my bed for a long time, staring at those shoes.

Yeah, sure, in another world, I’d love to think that this incredible man would be the one to leave his shoes nightly at the foot of my bed but that’s not gonna happen. But it made me miss having someone leave their shoes at the foot of my bed on a regular basis.

I miss that masculine presence in my life. I have amazing men in my life like Brad and Kerr and Ranger Smith and many, many others. But I miss that specific presence, that specific man, who will leave his shoes at the foot of my bed.

And it made me wonder if there will be someone in my life to leave their shoes at the foot of my bed. Someone whose shirt will hang in my closet. Not someone just to date but someone to bring that masculine energy back into my life.

I think sometimes I manifest that energy and am maybe a little more aggressive than I need to be because I don’t have that outside source of masculinity in my life. I love my guy friends but there’s something about having that specific, intimate energy that I miss.

I finally put Brad’s shoes in the back of the closet where they will rest safely until they come out to film next week. I had initially just meant to leave them on the floor but I don’t think I could look at them every day between now and Sunday. So they and their energy can hibernate until they need to come out.

I look forward to the day when the shoes of someone I love can live on the floor beside my Chuck Taylors and my Santana boots. Hopefully, they will belong to someone as amazing as the men I have found special in my life over the last four and a half years of my life. They’d have to be to stand up to my shoes.