And even more adventures...

The problem with being a superhero is the melancholy that plagues the alter-ego. When the cape is sent to the dry cleaners to get rid of the blood and the boots are in the shoemaker to get the heels replaced from running faster than light, the alter-ego is left to deal with the aftermath.

Such as it is with the Wraith.

Her alter-ego, mild-mannered writer/director, Susan, is left looking at what the Wraith has done in the past couple of weeks in the name of righting all the wrongs and doing everything right and making sure the balance hangs perfectly in the world. And it all seemed like a good idea at the time, when one is the Wraith. Striking out to put an end to ambiguity and deciding that taking her toys and going home was a good idea at the time leaves the mild-mannered W/D wondering if it really was. And the Wraith doesn’t always consider the feelings of those she is rescuing, regardless of whether they want to be rescued or not. The alter-ego then must deal with the questions and the doubts that consumer her every moment. The Wraith is impulsive and impetuous without thought, without care, because she’s a superhero. She can be. She just doesn’t stick around for the end result.

The mild-mannered W/D does. She looks at the chaos that the impetuous one has caused and wonders if it was all worth it. Maybe being impulsive isn’t the best thing to be. Maybe following an instinct that seems right at the time because it seems that it will put everything into perspective and right the wrongs isn’t the right thing to do. Maybe sometimes just sitting down and thinking things through is the better way to be a super-hero. Sometimes, it seems that the superhero part just makes things more difficult and more muddy.

The alter-ego must deal with the doubt and insecurity that the Wraith doesn’t have to. The alter-ego deals with the loneliness that comes both after the media and frenzy have gone away and with the emptiness that some of the Wraith’s actions cause. The Wraith never questions, the alter-ego is only about questions.

The alter-ego obsesses on things that can’t be changed – that moment in time when the Wraith left the note behind for the friend to find, without thought of consequence, only that it would make things right; that moment when the Wraith lashed out at what she thought was a minion of Sucha Flert, never realizing it was just a silly, lonely girl at a bar, looking for attention. Those are the moments that the alter-ego must deal with on rainy, dreary Saturdays, while the Wraith is resting peacefully somewhere inside her psyche, convinced that she has done the right thing.

This makes the alter-ego incapable of action because the superhero is all action. So the alter-ego cannot act when in situations where action is required. She hesitates, knowing that there are consequences for every word, every deed, because she deals with the Wraith’s consequences all the time. She cannot deal with her own as well.

So the alter-ego sits alone, watching the world go by, wishing that Guy would realize that she is the Wraith but knowing that he never will. Trying to figure out why, if she is a superhero inside, she can’t just seize the moment and be Wraith-like while in alter-ego mode. Trying to just get through the day until the superhero inside can be let out again, to run rampant and reckless, to be free and mindless, to be the Wraith once again for a while, no matter what the consequences.

Further adventures of The Wraith...

So the Wraith has acquired two sidekicks – Logi-Gal, a sweet, quirky chick with all the answers, and Imo Chanel (it works if you read it fast), a svelte, quirky chick with all the emotions. They usually are a huge help to the Wraith, who sometimes needs to consult with one or the other. However, the Wraith can get into trouble with her sidekicks if she has to get help from them both at the same time. Logi-Gal tells her one thing, which is the logical, sensible answer to things, then Imo Chanel chimes in with her two cents, which usually involves anything but logic. This can send our heroine into long periods of over-thinking and hand-wringing over her current situation. She may go on to consult other heroines, who have similar sidekicks, and end up with too much conflicting information which brings our heroine to a standstill.

So the Wraith returns to her secret identity, the mild-mannered writer/director we shall call, oh, I don’t know, Susan, to contemplate and figure out what to do.

Meanwhile, the super-villain (male, of course), finds the heroine’s weakness – sending mixed signals. Is he a friend, is he something more? What does he want from me? Was that an answer or not? While the heroine sorts through her conflicting information and finds herself bound in a sea of indecision, the super-villain (we’ll call him, oh, I don’t know, Zorta Friend) wreaks havoc on unsuspecting women throughout the metropolis, leaving a wake of confused, wounded, angry women behind who don’t know if he was a friend or more.

Then appears the Wraith’s nemesis (did you know Nemesis was the goddess of retribution? And, by the way, there is no definition for “arch-nemesis” really. What is an arch-nemesis, as opposed to just a nemesis? Just a side thought.), a trendy, non-quirky, hard-looking woman called Sucha Flert. Sucha Flert throws flirts around that are shaped like ninja stars and leaves a wake of devastated men behind her who have no idea what hit them and shattered women who can’t figure out why their men have lost their minds. The men thought she was interested in them but were broken when they find she has no interest in them. She makes dates without any intention of keeping them, leaving men sitting for hours at bars, increasing alcoholism in rampant quantities throughout the country.

The Wraith discovers that Flert is in town. She discovers that Flert has set her sights on the object of the Wraith’s affection, oh, we’ll call him Guy (change the name to protect the innocent; yeah, right). Wraith wants to protect him from injury from Sucha Flert but is unable to because her sidekicks have given her too much information and the Wraith is caught up in a circular pattern of thought that she cannot seem to get out of. Little does she know that both Flert and Zorta have conspired to give the sidekicks conflicting information so that they will pass that confusion on to the Wraith, thereby rendering her ineffective.

Finally, the Wraith realizes that she’s been thinking too much about too many conflicting things and must simplify her thought process in order to escape the confusion that her sidekicks have inadvertently set upon her. When the Wraith is finally able to clear up her thoughts, she realizes that Guy has been dazzled by Flert and Zorta has gotten him to also send conflicting signals to Wraith. However, the Wraith is prepared, knowing that Guy may not be the man for her to fly off into the sunset with but she still loves him for the friend that he is, and confronts Flert with the challenge to prove her worthiness to Guy before she can continue with her wicked, underhanded plan to steal Guy from the Wraith. Flert figures she’s up for the challenge but, in the end, Flert cannot help herself and throws a flirt at another man in front of Guy, breaking her spell and releasing Guy for her hypnotic trance. Zorta tries to keep Guy sending his crossed signals but, once Flert is broken, Guy sees through Zotra’s plan and refuses to be confusing.

The Wraith and Guy leave the villains behind to rethink their plan to overthrow the world while they try to define their own relationship. Guy, however, is not yet aware of the Wraith’s secret identity and, when the Wraith leaves him to go conquer evil, Guy finds himself in the presence of Susan, whom he loves but doesn’t LOVE because he’s waiting for the return of the Wraith. While this frustrates our mild-mannered heroine, she knows eventually he’ll find out that she and the Wraith are one in the same and he will learn that the one he is in love with is really her.

Stay tuned for more adventures of The Wraith…


© Susan Lee 2006
(just in case)

You'd think I'd learn

I am so stupid.

I have been led on for so long.

I have let myself be led on.

That stops now.

I want to write...

I want to write the great romantic tragedy.

I’m not talking Romeo and Juliet, oh, that’s too bad, fucked up kids who thought they were in love and killed themselves kind of romantic tragedy.

I wanna write something that would make “Kill Bill Vol. 2” look like a Disney movie. You’re “just not that into me”? Then you die. Simple. Body parts amputated, heads lopped off, hearts ripped out, still beating, from the hole I punched into your chest. I’ll pine and I’ll whine and I’ll moan, then I’ll hunt you down and chop off your… well… use your imagination, you chicken shit punk ass loser. See if anyone will date you now.

More blood will be spilled, more mayhem will be caused than Uma and Lucy and Viveca and the Crazy 88’s combined. Many will wonder about the cute guy down the hall who used to have this female friend who he loved but didn’t LOVE and why he suddenly stopped being seen in the lobby, or why his newspapers have piled up so high and what IS that smell coming from his apartment?

The heroine would talk like Samuel L. Jackson in “Pulp Fiction,” spewing forth quotes from fairy tales as she beheads her victims. Fuck black leather and skin tight outfits. She’d be in jeans with vintage men’s shirts and a kick-ass cool long leather coat like something out of a John Woo film (cuz all his capes do that cool flip up in the wind thing). And, of course, wear red Santana boots. Her hair would be red and hell hath no fury like this woman scorned.

Of course, her alter ego would be a mild-mannered director/writer who seems to be a bit fragile, a bit unsure of herself, a bit hesitant about showing her real self to anyone. Those she shows her secret identity to will stand in front of bullets for her. However, god help the men who break her heart. Death, mayhem, Crazy 88’s.

Of course, she’d need a really cool name. Heartbreaker? I’m sure some guy would say Lovelorn. How about Wraith of Love/ Suggestions are welcome.

Maybe it’s the full moon. Yes, it’s full again. Seems to bring out the feisty in me. The OOMA must be no more and I must push past that and find a new one… or come to terms with not having anyone. He will always be special, he will always be adored… and I may spare him the blood bath, as our heroine must always have a weakness for one person that she simply cannot destroy – whether villain or friend. So, OOMA, consider yourself lucky to be spared the Wraith of Love… But be warned, others out there. Don’t break my heart, don’t piss me off, or she may come after you…

I'm not obsessive...

So around 9 PM tonight, I thought I’d fire up the camera and take a look at the footage from this weekend, maybe start plopping some of it down in Final Cut Pro, just to get the process started.

It’s now 1:20 AM and I’m making myself stop and go to bed as I have to meet my actresses at 9 AM tomorrow to scout a location. I got a whole minute and 30 seconds of a scene cut together in that time. It’s rough but it looks like a scene! It’s the scene with Jessie (Vanessa Mizzone) running into her ex-husband, Nick, (AJ Bowen), and it’s really lovely! I can’t wait to finish it but I must sleep. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

My sister sent me some nice photos from the set when she stopped by. She’s home now and I’m sorry I didn’t have time to visit with her when she was here.


From left to right: My real sister, Cindy, her "Cinderella" counterpart, Suzannah Fagan, myself, and my "Cinderella" counterpart, Vanessa Mizzone.

I could just about sit up all night and work on this but I have to remind myself that sleep is necessary! Glad my Michaels class cancelled because I just couldn’t do it.

I thought tonight would be spent sitting on the couch because the weekend wore me out. The days were not long but it’s hard being the one person with all the answers. It’s just tiring. I’m not complaining, trust me, I’m just not used to it. Usually, my ex would intrude with options and opinions – wanted and unwanted – so some of the decisions were taken out of my hands. It was a little odd being the only one everyone turned to. My crew, however, was great and didn’t need a whole lot of explanation about things. What a pleasure working with people who know what they’re doing.

But am tired and rambling and will try to sleep now. Looking forward to working on the cut more tomorrow. Maybe I can finish the rough of the scene by tomorrow night. Not too much pressure.

The blog I can post.

It’s been a roller coaster weekend.

The shoot was amazing. You can read about that on the Life On Its Side blog. Great time, great friends, great talent. The footage is going to be really good. I can’t wait to start editing, probably in the next day or two. Couldn’t have been a better way to spend my birthday. The party Saturday night was great. I loved the cake(s) – especially the kiddy cake with the pick-up truck from my favorite collaborator.

I was so exhausted today that getting up was a challenge. I’m still pretty wiped out, although I’m gonna go have dinner with Zadra and chat about life. Here’s the aftermath of shooting in my apartment – .
Not pretty. There’s a floor in there somewhere! Gotta clean it up but I think tomorrow is the day for cleaning and laundry. All outta Supergirl underwear.

It was amazing to have my sister on the set while we shot the film basically about our lives. There were moments that were almost too intense for me. The last moment of the argument that we shot on Sunday brought tears to my eyes. It’s a fight I’ve had with my sister, words we’ve said and not said. I almost had to walk off for a second, the immediacy of the moment and intimacy of the script was so immediate. It’s such a credit to my actors that they brought that moment to its beautiful climax.

I am sorry we have to stop for almost two weeks. We’ll have one day this week maybe and then not another until the 22nd. Too long! Oh, well, it’ll give me time to find some more money. There’s things I have to sell. It’s not gonna be enough but it’ll be something. I have to trust that the universe will provide as it has so far.

On the other end, I may have hurt someone I love very much in the process of trying to do the right thing and trying to protect myself. I hope we’ll come back to a good place. I’m not sure. There’s a blog there but not one that anyone will ever see. Some things are too personal and too private to put up here. Hard to believe, I know, but there it is.

"Cinderella Drives A Pick-Up" Day 1 and Day 2

Status report:

Two days.
18 pages (17 pages, 6 day one, 11 day two)
14 hours of shooting.
Three hours of footage.
Four cast members.
Six crew members.
Two work lights.
One china ball.
1 case of water.
One mother.
One sister.

It has been an amazing, exhausting, inspiring, overwhelming, incredible weekend.

DAY ONE:
We began an hour late on Saturday. I had hoped to start by 2:30 but, due to numerous circumstances, I don’t think we got the first shot off until after 3:30. A bit worrisome but, somehow, miraculously, we wrapped by 6:15 and I think we got everything I wanted.

Reduced an eight page scene into five pages, changed locations three times, I think, until I decided to just use the Ark Theatre, since we had access to it. Tidied a lot of extraneous things up with the script on the fly.

Great cast. Vanessa Mizzone as Jessie Andrews has really channeled my voice and my thoughts. It’s amazing watching her work. She’s effortless, natural, comfortable. A.J. Bowen as Nick Whitaker, one of my favorite actors and one of my favorite people, is so easy on the eyes and easy on the director. Michelle Welton as Allison found a very nice level to what could have been a cardboard character. It was such a pleasure to start the shoot working with these talented people. They make my job so easy, having done do much work on their own, bringing their thoughts and ideas and working so comfortably with me.

Great crew. Kate Murphy, my DP, I met just a week ago through a friend at a birthday party. Somehow, within hours, she managed to begin to read my mind and anticipate what I wanted. Her input over both days was invaluable. Her respect for me while offering up suggestions was just what I wanted with a DP. Meagan Lindahl, script supervisor, is a luxury I have never been able to have on one of my one projects. Her eye and her gentle voice really helped keep things on track and make sure we got everything we needed. Tracey Gorin, what would I do without her? Not sure I can do a project without her somehow involved. My favorite collaborator, Chairman Barnes, a producer who understands that working on a no-budget feature means that he will end up playing PA – in this case, holding the reflector or the “dolly” (also known as a moving cart), or dropping a bolt on the ground over and over again.

Kinda weird having Mom and my sister, Cindy there. Mom gets bored easily. I get my short attention span from her. Cindy, however, was fascinated by the process and also I think by hearing our story out loud from girls that are not us. But it was also great having them both there, sharing in this very special weekend.

Birthday party afterwards that I stayed at way too late but I just couldn’t seem to leave. Two great cakes, as it was my birthday and my friend, Patty’s, birthday. The grown-up cake with chocolate mousse from Michelle and the cute kiddy cake from Chairman with a pick-up truck.

DAY TWO:
We got started pretty much on time today. Had a lot of pages to do – 11 1/3 altogether. Lots and lots of dialog. God, I have to learn how to write shorter scenes. Vanessa Mizzone and Suzannah Fagan really have such terrific chemistry. It’s so easy to buy them as sisters. Cindy was particularly pleased with her counterpart. And I think Suzannah enjoyed meeting Cindy to get an idea of who she is playing.

Kate continued to be great, very collaborative and very respectful. Peter Ross Stephens was our token boy-toy on set… or slate bitch as he was fondly referred to. He didn’t seem to mind being trapped on a set all day with six creative, talented women.

It was startling to look around and realize that the entire crew practically was female. It was completely unintentional. I had originally brought on a male DP who never returned my phone calls and apparently never checks his email. I’m glad I found Kate. She was a perfect fit. She cannot do the whole shoot but the person she is being replaced by is another very cool woman, who stopped by the set today to check in. The energy on the set was just so generous and so warm. It was nice to have so many women around.

Spent the day making vats of fudge for the scene. We celebrated the end of the day by toasting with the best of the fudge.

This was an incredibly fulfilling weekend. I cannot believe that we hav even started on this venture. I never really thought I would see this piece on film (video) really. I just didn’t think it would happen. But way back in November, sitting in an IHOP in Vegas, Chairman assured me that he had faith that this project would get off the ground. So many friends have told me that they really thought this project was going to be THE PROJECT for me.

And now, the day after my 44th birthday, I sit in my living room, dubbing the dailies from yesterday and today, hearing my own words cascade out of the speakers, watching my own dailies. It’s astounding. Some day, maybe I’ll be jaded and not be so emotionally charged over these things. But this film is special and I can never thank all the people involved for their time, their love and their passion for this project. The biggest blessing is that I get to work with my dearest, best friends and my favorite people on the face of the earth. My mother said to me last night at dinner, “Wow, they all really like you.” I laughed. Of course they do. Because I like them, well, maybe love them. So blessed am I.

I get to make a movie today...

I’m breathless with anticipation. It’s been such a hectic week, trying to get everything done and make sure there’s a crew and a location and rehearsing and everything that I had lost sight of what we were doing. Last night, it really hit me. I get to make a movie today. My movie. My pet project. You’ll pardon me if you find me teary-eyed behind the camera today because I guess I didn’t really think that this would happen.

There are still a ton of obstacles – mostly financial. Don’t know if we’re going to raise enough money to actually finish the shoot. That’s the biggest obstacle. But I’m trying to not think that far ahead. The universe has provided so far, it’ll provide the rest.

I am overwhelmed with the talent and support around me on this project. My co-producers, Paul Wagar and my fav collaborator, Chairman. Their unwavering belief in me just continues to amaze me. I couldn’t tackle this project without that belief. My incredible cast – Vanessa, Suzanne, A.J., Dean, Lindsay, Joshua, Donna, Ana, Michelle, and Chairman. Your input and thoughts and, Vanessa, impossibly challenging questions, all made this script so much better than it ever was and I cannot wait to work with all of you. You make my job so much easier.

My crew, who are all contributing their time because they believe in me and they believe in this project. Their enthusiasm has kept me going and their presence on the set is going to make such an incredible contribution.

The bands that contributed their music will forever be my favorite musicians. I am required to promote the CD because it’s what I do. But I have to tell you, the music that these talented artists gave me make it easy to be passionate about it. Their music is all in my Ipod Nano and on my favorite playlists. They are gifted, beautiful, feisty women all and I love them for their talent.

Friends and family, to those who have contributed, you are the backbone of this project. Every $20 contributions, every CD you buy, every call, every email, every little bit of support for this project keeps it on its feet. For those of you who haven’t contributed, what can I say? I know money is tight. I hope your thoughts and wishes are with us, even if your checkbook isn’t. Don’t forget, we shoot through the beginning of May, so if you can’t send $20 now, maybe in two weeks, you can find a few bucks. Or buy a CD for a friend. Without all of those little contributions, there would be no “Cinderella.”

And my parents. There are no words.

And my sister, Cindy, who flew all the way down here from Minneapolis to share this weekend with me. That’s the most precious thing of all.

Now, I must wipe away the happy tears, finish packing up my production bag and run the 1,000 errands that must be run before we shoot. Check out the official website later for a production diary I hope to post tonight. Don’t forget http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com.

I'm 44...

I have literally just turned 44. Just now. Okay, 49 minutes ago. Wow. 44. I feel like I did at 24. I live like I did at 24. I’m by myself again, like I was at 24. Maybe some day I’ll grow up.

This past year has brought so many changes, as have been listed and examined and itemized here. It’s been awful. It’s been wonderful. It’s been terrifying. It’s been inspiring.

Last year, I kept hearing songs about “My Next 30 Years” and “100 Years”, making me contemplate what I wanted in the next 30 years and the next 100 years. Tomorrow, I start my film. That’s what I want for the next 200 years – films, plays, TV, anything I can direct. I know what I’m directing for the next year, which always makes me happy.

It’s a year that began with the beginnings of endings. I knew I was approaching the end of my marriage as I began to embrace the real beginning of myself as an artist. I was approaching some beginnings that were significant and impacted so many things in my life. Some of those beginnings began and then ended not long thereafter. Some of those beginnings feel like they’re the start of something lifelong and lovely. Some of them are still in question. This year saw dramatic endings, maybe with one or two more yet to come before this year officially comes to an end.

Mostly, this has been a year of joy. Unadultered joy. Embracing the joy in my life. There are many people I have to thank for that – my boys (you know who they are), my best friend, my roomie (and even my furry roomies), Erin, the Koji’s crowd, Del, Paula, Erik, all of you listed on my Myspace as a friend, including the amazing musicians and bands that those who are important to me have introduced me to. I would not have the amazing soundtrack to Cinderella (BLATANT PROMOTION ALERT – http://www.cinderelladrivesapickup.com – buy a CD for $12, make my birthday a happy one!) if it weren’t for those who brought me back to music – Zadra, Chairman, Peter mainly. That is definitely one of the greatest gifts of this year, the gift of music back in my life.

And literally finding my voice. I used to almost throw up when the Koji’s crowd finally forced me to get up and sing. I shook, I sweat, I hyperventilated. Now, I can’t wait to get up and sing. My favorite of late was “I’m Just a Girl” last week. I loved it! I’ll have to do that one again. For me, singing and enjoying singing is the most evident manifestation of finding my voice. “Cinderella” is the most visual way. I feel like I’m really letting that inner voice out in ways I haven’t been able to in years.

This last year has been deeply introspective, with seeing this therapist that my ex and I began with. I’m taking a break right now as I don’t have time to look inside while I focus my gaze on the outside. And I want to take some time to apply what I’ve learned. And I’ve learned so much, so much that even today, dealing with a few things in my personal life, I’m really looking at the things I do in my life and the choices I make and trying to make sure they make sense for me and not because I think it’s what I should do. Sorry, starting to ramble. Not enough sleep, that hasn’t changed in the last year.

This last year has had its hues of black and deep blue as well. I’ve been given great advice lately about solutions to watering down those colors and it’s something that maybe I’ll look into this year. Although I feel like I have a better handle on the black and blues now and can actually see them coming sometimes. But there have been a few very dark ones, even recently, and it’s something that I guess I will have to face this year as my life grows (hopefully) more successful and more hectic.

This last year has been heartbreaking in so many ways. Losses of friends, loss of my marriage, dealing with knowing that this time I have with my father now is precious and may add to the losses adds to the bittersweetness of this year. I want him to be proud, I want him to see my potential and know that I’m on my way before he has to watch me from that great golf course where he and God will shoot under par every day.

This year has made me want more – more out of my life, more out of myself, more out of the world. It’s made me focused and made me harder. It’s made me more open and yet more cautious. It’s made me so incredibly happy and so devastatingly sad. It’s made me appreciate every single moment that I’ve had – good, bad and otherwise – and made me realize that I am surrounded by such love, in so many forms, by such amazing energy and enthusiasm, by such passion and such gifts that I can’t wait to see where I am next year at 45.

A season

I thought you were more than a season
but I guess that was all
you were meant to be.

Now I have to go about
letting that go
moving past the misdirection
and leave that piece of me behind,
letting go of you and all that goes with you.
Find another source for the joy, the laughter
and the song.

Part of you is a lifetime
in my lifetime
and I know another season will come
but it won’t be like this one.

I am grateful for the season with you
because it made me feel again,
made me grow,
made me see myself
through your eyes
as I wanted to be seen.

I’m not sure how to do this
and I don’t want to damage the roots
that are there.
But I’ll be back in a while
to see what you’ve grown
while I’ve been gone.
And then we can go back
to where the roots began with us
and start again
from where we left off.

Soooo much better today.

Even with the rain. The Dark Ones have retreated and I actually slept well last night, which I didn’t expect. Seems that reaching out and talking to someone really does help. Duh! Some day, I’ll learn this is truth.

I always hesitate about putting up blogs that deal with my depression and the darkness that consumes me sometimes. There is a point of too much information sometimes. And I worry that I cross that line. But I know how I appreciate when I read someone else’s blog and they’re sharing something deep and personal and it’s something I can relate to and it makes me go, wow, I’m not alone. She/he feels that way, too. I’m not crazy. As well, when I started this blog, I swore I would be completely open and not try to make things pretty and funny, unless they are. I approached it as an honest view of my mid-life crisis and I think to hold anything back isn’t honoring that intention.

So thanks for reading and supporting and encouraging. It’s always amazing to see the comments following one of these dark blogs and it makes me very grateful for Myspace and blogspot. It’s so easy to feel alone in this world, whether it’s here in LaLa Land or back home in Winnipeg. It’s great to have a community at my fingertips that can guide me through the funny and the weird and the hard and the amazing.

Funny thing about depression...

It is sneaky. It is insidious. It insists on fucking up and distorting everything in your life. The slightest look, the smallest word becomes insurmountable. It releases the clowns and the demons at will.

Actually, I prefer the clowns and the demons to the deeper, darker unnamable ones who surface only occasionally, only when the depression has found its foothold and it has you crippled. Thats when the Dark Ones comes out and glide through your soul, leaving a wake of blackness that is impenetrable. They allow no light, they allow no sound, only the whisper of their breath as they move through your essence, leaving it scarred and pitted.

The Dark Ones have been lurking for a while, because, of course, I have the most important weekend of my life four days away. At least the clowns announce themselves with circus music and ringmasters. Even the demons tend to be more clumsy and alert you to their arrival. The Dark Ones are stealthy and you dont know theyre there until its almost too late to do anything about them.

The Dark Ones attacked with a vengeance tonight. I guess theyre pissed off that I have managed to avoid them for a while now. I was expecting the demons because they always come with stress and when Im feeling overwhelmed and alone. But I thought I was handling that. I was kind of embracing the fact that there is so much to do on the film and its all falling to me, which is really what I wanted anyway. I want to be able to step back when its done and go, wow, I did that. I had help but it was really all about me. Maybe kind of selfish but, for me right now, its really a freedom. So I kept the demon-watch up and fought them gamely as they began leaping out of the shadows in the past few days. Having a quiet sanctuary to work at helped to keep them aside for a while but, then, even the quiet I so craved became filled with their hisses and taunts. They finally drove me out tonight and then set upon creating their own little dark scenarios about sanctuary and what is contained therein and trying to turn me against having that safe, quiet place to turn to.

I thought I just needed to eat. Im on the production diet right now five pounds lost in about a week. I just forget to eat. That has a bearing on the demons sometimes as they thrive in that slightly light-headed environment.

On the way home, though, the Dark Ones found me. Hard to navigate the car when blind-sided by these beings. They are very attracted to the center divider and the other cars around you. Then they planted twisted, destructive scenarios in my head that I cannot even put in writing, they were so deeply black. Suffice to say they had inventive thoughts about how to remove my tattoos. Ive been down that road before and it frightened me that I could even begin to approach that abyss again, especially right now, when there are so many things in my life that should make me rejoice and celebrate.

But thats the funny thing about depression. It likes to hit you just when you should be enjoying things. It has no sense of timing. Or maybe it has a wicked sense of timing.

The one thing I have learned in therapy is that I need to reach out when I get into that pitch black darkness. I managed to do that tonight and was grateful to find Zadra on the other end of that reach. She lets me wail and weep and rale and then gently talks me off the ledge and back inside. She claims I have talked her off of the self-same ledge occasionally and we ended the conversation with the thought of putting graffiti on that ledge Zadra & Susan were here.



To remind us that we are not alone when out on that ledge. To remind us that there is humor to be found in the blackest moments. To remember Gods grace in putting the people in our lives that He does because theyre there for a reason (or a season or a lifetime).

She talked me out of a couple of really stupid things tonight that would have caused wounding and more confusion and perhaps ending a friendship that I so treasure. She kept me on the phone until the Dark Ones finally got sick of hearing us talk and I finally began to run out of tears. Slowly, gently, eventually, the thick black fog began to clear. Its not completely gone yet. It may hang around still, as it always is in the background for me these past few years. Its never far from the present and it is only with a great deal of effort that it is kept back. That, and the amazing people in my life who wont let me pull that curtain closed in front of me. Their joy, their passion, their devotion and utter belief that I am capable of something great keeps that curtain open. And I treasure that in these deep, dark moments. Because it would be so easy to just pull it closed and silence all the noise. But then Id miss the music and the laughter and the gentle whispers I love so much, that fill the rest of my life with such abounding pleasure and joy. So Ive put our mark on the ledge and hang on to the hope that I will see that the next time I step out and it will keep me from going all the way out there and teetering...

From the floor

The meltdowns come on swiftly, with very little warning and no notice. One moment, filling a water glass in the kitchen, getting ready to do some work before bed. The next moment, sobbing, collapsed on the floor, unable to get up, unable to do anything but weep with heart-rending pain and incoherent sobs. Willing myself to get back up on my feet, to get out of the kitchen where the sharp things are and just move. Try to push the meltdown away, not give into it, not give up for it.

At first, it’s about you, so close yet just beyond my reach. The mighty abyss of the unknown between us. The moments between us when we’re talking then suddenly lock eyes and there is nothing to be said that we can say because of so many reasons. I don’t know if you read these anymore, wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t. Maybe people don’t really like to read about themselves. But not being able to find the words to talk to you is one of the most difficult, painful things in my life. Yet I can’t walk away from it. I am trapped in inaction, waiting for you, the universe, God, somebody to push us together, or tear us apart. At least that would be an answer.

Then it’s you, the one I’ve left behind. The one who wounded me so deeply that it feeds into my inability to reach out to the one so near. It’s your voice that is the strongest in these moments, when I am at my weakest, when I cannot fight back. It’s your voice echoing through my memory, telling me that I will fail, I always do, I always have. And I can’t argue with it because I haven’t succeeded yet. Such terror that you’re going to be right and that I’m going to be here, alone, empty, failed, broken and you’ll be right. And I’ll have destroyed so much, broken so much, torn so much to ribbons just to fail. Your voices is so loud and still so fresh, it is what makes my knees buckle and what makes it impossible to get off the floor.

And there is so much silence at these times. I can hear my breathe ricochet off the cupboard doors and pinball off the floor. I cover my mouth, trying to regain some control, but it only makes it harsher, harder, louder and I succumb to it.

It always comes down to the choice – give in to the meltdown, admit that I was wrong to leave, that life would have gotten better and I wouldn’t have ended up ending it alone and in the dark, that this version of my life isn’t any better than that version was, I just don’t see it yet, that this thing between you and I is only imaginary because I can’t bear the thought of not having love, of not having someone, anyone, and you just happen to be in the vicinity. Give in to “what the hell have I done” and crawl back to that other life with my hat in hand, although that other life is no longer there. At least give you the satisfaction of being right about me for so many years.

The other choice – push myself off the floor, find a Kleenex. Fight against the meltdown and the pain. Know that it’s only temporary and imaginary. The weight on my chest will lift eventually and my breath will slow and my heart will calm. Hang on to the hard-won victories, however big and however small, and to the joy that has been introduced to me, thanks in a great deal to you. Accept that you and I will maybe never be more than this confused, conflicted, complicated duo but continue to write the hopeful, sappy, silly scenarios in my head where you or I or the universe finally push us to the point where words are necessary. Put “what the hell have I done” back to the other side of my life, where it belongs. Don’t give you the satisfaction of being right, because you weren’t.

The meltdown recedes a bit, not all the way, but enough to ge through the rest of the night, maybe. It depends on whether or not the circus music starts up at 3 AM or if the clowns are as afraid of the meltdown as I am.

Wow, what a little peace and quiet can do.

I have gotten so much accomplished in the last few days, it’s not funny. I now have a sanctuary to go to work in (Cinderella work, that is) and it’s been incredibly beneficial. The biggest problem at home is not my roomie, it’s the insanity of the neighborhood we live in. It’s just not quiet. It’s always noisy and our new neighbors just are annoying. So all that outside noise intrudes on the normal, every day living noises within the apartment and makes me bug-nuts. As I’ve said, I can always ask my roomie for some quiet but the rest of the world is not so responsive.

I sat down in the quiet place today around 3PM to just read through the script as many revisions have been going on in the last two weeks as I’ve worked with Suzanne and Vanessa on character, arc, things like that. The work has been really good but I wanted to read through and make sure all the logic was there and that their changes didn’t affect too many other things.

Basically, once I got started, I effected a page one rewrite of the entire script. I thought I would make minor changes as I went. Nope. Rewrote entire scenes. Hopefully for the better.

I got up and stretched and got some water around 7:15 and thought, oh, I’ll write for another half hour and then stop. I’ve only had two and a half hours of sleep and I’m starting to feel it so I’ll wrap up soon. 8:50 I stopped because I had finished everything. Almost six straight hours of writing. I almost ran my Ipod Nano out of music. My legs were numb and my brain was fried but, wow, did I feel good. I think the rewrite is really strong. Suzanne and Vanessa have been so important in helping me find the weak spots in their arcs, which affects everything else. I changed a batch of thing based on budget and location issues. And some of it was just due to the changes in the sisters’ relationship which triggers changes in their relationships with others.

Then I went to a party for a friend of mine who is a lovely man and is technical director at the Falcon Theater. Didn’t want to go, very, very tired but he’s a lovely guy and so I thought I’d stop in. Turns out I found a new DP (since my last one hasn’t returned any emails or calls) who is a chick and very cool. Sold a couple of CD’s so I made $20 for the film. Yee-ha.

All in all, the past few days have been so incredibly productive and full and I’m pooped and should go to bed but my head is still full of stuff. Drugs, I think. Although I have to get up early and work for my new boss.

My arms are tired from all the juggling. But I’m sleepily fulfilled and endlessly grateful for my sanctuary.

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.