17 years

It would have been 17 years today. 17 years. 19, if you count the time we knew each other before we got married.

I don’t know why it’s sitting with me this year – 17 years – when the last two years, this date passed with just a thought of, “oh, it’s our anniversary.” I was kinda glad it was that insignificant. I don’t want this to be an “anniversary” date the rest of my life, although I do occasionally think about my first marriage on that anniversary.

I’m not sure if I really miss him today or if I just miss “us”. Being a couple, having someone in bed with me every night (other than my cat), having someone to bounce ideas off of, someone to hold my hand in the movies, someone to GO to the movies with.

I am overwhelmed with the feeling of loss these past few days. We don’t talk at all because I choose not to. I am so filled with anger when I do see him – anger at him for the way he treated me and how much he added to the wounds of my life; angry at myself for letting him treat me that way, not seeing what was going on, just existing instead of participating in my life. I want to slap him and scream at him and ask him if he really understands the consequences of his actions. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t talk to him.

17 years. What does it mean? What came of that relationship? How could we have been together so long and not made it? How could we have been together so long and not have a relationship now? And I don’t want to have a relationship because I’m afraid it would go back to being what it was – hard, angry, difficult, negative. I have a finely balanced life right now and I don’t want that life to tip back to the dark, dank place it was on that horrible night I almost took my life. I never want to be there again. But what did all those years mean? Is it just a void in my life now, something I can refer to gingerly, an era I don’t want to acknowledge but can’t avoid acknowledging?

He is still on the fringes of my life and even that pisses me off. He does little things that make me feel like he’s clinging to our relationship yet he’s the one who chose to close the door by filing for divorce before I knew what I wanted.

I guess I still struggle with the fact that, even though I was the one to say I need to be alone for a while, I never thought it would end. I thought we’d separate, I’d figure out where my head was at, get myself straightened out emotionally, we’d stay in counseling, and eventually, we’d get back together, stronger, better, ready to face the rest of our lives together. I know it hurt him when I told him I didn’t want to be with him anymore. And maybe filing for divorce was his only way to regain some control over the situation, make it hurt less somehow. But that simple act ended any relationship we could have had.

Maybe that’s what I’m angry about as well, that the way he handled the end of our relationship was just the same as the way he handled most of our relationship – making it what he wanted, not considering what I wanted. Maybe it’s best we ended that way instead of hanging on, trying to figure out if we were ever going to be together again, having that undefined, disconnected lingering thing that so many couples go through. When my first husband left me, there was that period where I didn’t know what we were – together?, apart? He’d call and want to see me and then call can cancel. We’d have drinks and I’d think we were getting better then I’d hear he was with this girl he left me for. I finally had to put my foot down and stop maintaining any contact with him because it was too hard to be on the edge of something and not know what that something was. I guess that’s how RJ had to be – put his foot down to figure out what the end of our relationship was.

I just know that today, I am struggling to find closure, find perspective, find some reason why it ended and why it couldn’t have been that beautiful future we planned on May 11, 1991. Wondering what I could have done to change the course that ended in June, 2005. There are answers I’ll never know, no matter how much I look at it. And maybe I’ve gained some insight that will carry through into another relationship 100 years from now when my wounds will have healed enough to allow me to let someone else in.

For now, I’ll just try to get through to the 12th and put the 11th behind me, for this year anyway.

My heart (warning - poetry ahead)

My heart
breaks tonight
for love I had
and
love I lost

You
when I was
young
and sure
and wrong
and can’t let back in
because the wounds are still there
and will never go away

You
who was my
soul
mate
who broke my
heart
soul
ego
passion
and just about
broke all of me
and the years between
are just air
nothing
gone
done

You
who
still holds my heart
in his indifferent hand
and who I still feel
within that empty space
where your heart lives

And you
who I never had
and yet
I somehow
always have
but can never have

So
here I am
pieces of my heart
scattered to the wind
mourning the losses
and
wistful for the promises
that may never come

Life is not a romantic comedy

The one you love doesn’t suddenly decide he misses you more than life itself and show up at your door, bearing some cutsie-pie gimmick that makes you laugh and forgive him for being an ass and throw yourself into his waiting arms.

No, real life means it continues to be awkward and hard and terrible to see him even though you should be long over him and moved past him. Real life is him keeping distant and cold even though there is still that connection so strong, you know he’s going to be there even before he does.

And the one marrying the wrong woman does not suddenly realize you are the most incredible person in the world and suddenly show up at your door…you know where I’m going with this.

No, real life means he leaves in the next few weeks and marries the wallpaper woman (as in one who is as interesting as, not one who sells wallpaper). He will live his life with this blandness and I get to sit on the sidelines, my mouth forever sealed, never saying, “what the fuck are you thinking? At least marry someone interesting!” No, real life means sitting by and hoping I am entirely wrong and they’ll be happy and together forever, while I watch and groan.

Startling strangers do not suddenly appear, showering you with anonymous notes of love because they’re too shy to say anything. You don’t run into men at the store who adorably step on your feet, look up into your eyes and fall madly in love with you. And the men you do meet are just mortal men, not gods of rom-com, and they have no idea that you exist.

So real life means trying to let go of those you’ve given your heart to who don’t realize you have (or don’t WANT to realize you have) and trying to find some peace with being alone with your cat and your friends and ignoring the empty shell inside that just wants to be held and embraced. That’s real life.

Missing

I miss the way you spooned with me almost every night of the 16 years that we were together.

I miss the way your eyes would look at me with such love, before those eyes turned critical and angry, only seeing my flaws.

I miss having my hand on your thigh when we drove long distances.

And I am sad that I don’t miss more of you.

48 Hour Film 2008

Yes, I did it again. I signed up for the 48 Hour Film Project on the weekend of June 13. Yes, it's an addiction. But I'm thinking this may be my last one... although don't hold me to it.

But this year is tinged with sadness and memories.

Last year at this time, Perry and I spent several hours phoning each other back and forth, somehow knowing the registration was about to open. It's not like in years past when, if you didn't register immediately, you didn't get in. Now, it seems like you can register at the last minute and still get in. But that's no fun. Perry and I were texting/emailing around midnight last year when the registration finally opened about both of us waiting anxiously by our computers and finally registering. He was as excited and happy as he always was getting ready for this project.



I had decided last year that I needed to step things up a notch for this year as I feel like I've stagnated in the process. I want the writing to be better (although I love what we wrote last year, Madame H and Ranger Smith) and I want the production to be better and I want the editing to be gremlin-free. But this year, I really want the film to be the best it can be as it will be dedicated to my dear friend, Perry. I really feel his absence right now.

So here's to the best year yet in the 48 Hour Film Project. And here's to my dear friend who inspired me and encouraged me and made me feel like there is nothing on earth that I cannot achieve. I miss you, Perry, and hope you're watching over all of us on that June weekend. We'll certainly be thinking of you.

The dark side of parent-sitting

4/17/08
It’s been a tough couple of days on the home front.

While the visit from my uncle Jack was great, it has made me decide that visitors can no longer stay in the apartment. They must find a hotel. Why? Well, let me tell you.

Dad is exhausted. While he enjoyed having his brother here, I think just the exertion of having someone here and all the talking and visiting they did wore him out. He was doing pretty good right before Jack came and now he’s back to his lowest baseline. I’m still glad Jack came, however, as it will probably be the last time he will get to see him.

It is so difficult watching my father just hang in there every day. He’s so thin and emaciated and seeing him shuffle through the apartment, just surviving, kills me. He was always so active, golfing almost every day, going for long walks, etc. Now, his day consists of sleeping about 16 hours on and off, sitting out on the porch when the sun is out and laying in bed, watching TV. When he’s feeling strong, he goes for a walk around the block, during which he has to sit down at least three or four times. He’s trying to keep going, he’s trying to keep active, but it’s obvious that his body is failing him. His eyesight is getting worse and Mom is very worried about him driving.

Sometimes, I have the terrible thought that I wish he would just give up. He’s not living a life that I think he would rather live. He struggles every day just to get through the day. The amount of pills he has to take would choke a horse. He struggles to keep it all straight. His mind is slowing fading and he struggles to get through a sentence. I don’t know how he feels about it but I know sometimes I can see how hard this struggle is for him in his eyes. Sometimes, I think he’s very sad about his existence but he continues to go on simply because he can. Maybe that’s something – continuing on simply because he can.

And the wear on my mother sometimes is horrible. She worries about Dad constantly, exhibiting it by screaming and yelling at him and me and everyone in a 10 mile radius. Last night, I thought I was going to have to sedate her. Dad apparently “almost drove up a wall”, which probably means he drove past a wall, and Mom got out of the car, sobbing and shaking, swearing she will never get in the car with him again (right in front of him), yelling about how much she hates this apartment and that the laundry room is filthy and disgusting and nothing works and she will never do laundry in there again. She’s standing over Dad last night, yelling at him as he’s trying to find a pill he has to take because he can’t find the right bottle. Instead of helping him, she expresses her frustration by yelling at him about how incompetent he is that he can’t find a pill bottle. Gee, wonder where my issues come from.

I know she must be struggling, too, watching Dad deteriorate and become a shell of the man he once was. I know she’s frustrated because she’s not working and has nowhere to go and nothing to do. But she won’t do anything. I try to take her out once a week at least and I was stunned that she wanted to see “Juche Rules” last week because she normally doesn’t want to leave the house. And I know she means the best and is terrified of losing him, but I also think she would be happier if he were in a nursing home or somewhere that he can be taken care of instead of here, where his imminent passage hovers over the house like a cloak some days.

I can’t take it some days. Sometimes, I escape to work or writing or the theater. Some days, I feel compelled to stay and try to referee between my weak, sad father and my terrified, angry mother. Some days, I just want to take the bottle of Jameson’s on the fridge and drink until it’s empty and I can’t hear them anymore.

I couldn’t get out of bed this morning because last night was so bad. I did not want to get up and face them. I wanted to hide under the covers with my cat, sleep until my body woke me up, then have a quiet, contemplative morning by myself. I finally dragged myself out of bed and went out to face the living room.

Mom has calmed down somewhat and is preparing to do laundry in the “filthy disgusting” laundry facilities here. She’s not shrieking, for a change, which is an improvement, I guess. I haven’t seen Dad yet, as he was sleeping when I got up and is now getting some sun on the porch. I’ve given up trying to get work done this morning as I can’t focus, I’m too distracted and exhausted to do much. Should make rehearsal interesting later today.

I just hope today is better and that Dad’s rallying back once again, as he does at the most unexpected times. I’ll cross my fingers for some peace and quiet today and that Mom may find some peace today herself. And I will, as always, be grateful for one more day with my father, no matter what his condition. But some day soon, I’m going to need some relief and some comfort myself or I’m not sure I’ll make it through.

Anatomy of a painting

Okay, this painting is my last one in "tone painting" - which means painting only with white and raw umber.

This is the actual item I was painting from - a starched napkin on a small masonite board:



This is the drawing:



This is midway through:



This is the final version:



The best thing about this is that I didn't feel overwhelmed or like I didn't deserve to be proud of what I did. I owned it. I embraced it. I loved it!

It's 10:42 AM

And I already need a big fucking drink.

Repeat to self - I love my mother, I love my mother, I love my mother...

"Juche" does, indeed, rule.

Three times is a charm as "Juche Rules", a brilliant play written by Mark Niu about a reporter facing a moral dilemma over a trip to Korea, won the USC One Act Playwriting Festival tonight. This is the third time I have directed for this program and I have always felt that the shows I’ve done have been some of the best. Tonight, that was proven.

Thanks to this brilliant script, we won tonight, to thunderous applause and much praise. One of the judges described this as a play that needed to be told and that it created an interesting and well-rounded world to be explored.



Left to right - Myself, Darrell Phillip, Roy Vongtama, Playwright Mark Niu, Ryun Yu and David Chan

I could not be happier right now. The cast was exquisite tonight, with no exaggeration. Roy Vongtama, David Chan, Darrell Phillip and Ryun Yu are four of the finest actors I have ever worked with. With only nine rehearsals (Ryun only being cast less than two weeks before tech rehearsal only had maybe three rehearsals), they created layered characters with emotion and really understood and reflected the conflicts these characters face. And these four were absolutely letter perfect tonight. There was not one thing I would have changed about any of it.

I think the best compliment I got through this whole thing was from the writer himself, telling me how pleased he was that I understood the subtext and subtlety of the script. It was easy. He wrote one of the best scripts I’ve ever had the pleasure of directing.

I’m glad some of you were able to come out and support this show. I was delighted to share this evening with the fabulous Patty Jean as my +1 and unexpected assistant as I handed her my purse, et al, while being dragged away to be photographed. Such a good friend, she let me take total advantage of her throughout the party.



As always, I find myself humbled and blessed to be playing in such company.

Lee Wochner, the producer of the event, wants to definitely find other projects for me to work on in the future. He does a lot of staged readings, etc., which pay. Wow, getting paid to direct. And I’ve been offered the Moving Arts One Act Festival, which I have to turn down, unfortunately, due to my commitment to Keely and Du.

This whole experience brings a number of things in my life full circle. I am grateful to have this chance to do this again and do it right and make it mine and mine alone. This is why I believe there is a God, one who gives us second chances when the first one didn’t turn out so good.

My new boys

Here is a link to some photos from "Juche Rules", a one act play I am directing for the USC Masters in Professional Writing Program. It's a great piece about two journalists in North Korea struggling to make a moral decision that could have a personal impact on their guide.

I first did this program five years ago, I think. I did it for two years and had a great time doing both. All the students enrolled in the Masters program can submit their one acts and the four best get a full performance. This year, it's at the East West Players, which is an Asian-American theater here in LA.

It's been interesting directing a piece about Asians (Korean, mostly) written by a Chinese-American and featuring three strong Asian actors. It's a weird connection to my own vague Chinese heritage (1/4, thank you very much) and I've really enjoyed this experience. These guys are terrific and they really stepped up to the plate and worked very hard with this extremely short rehearsal schedule we had.

I once again find myself living a piece of my life over again, without having him leaning over my shoulder, telling me what I'm doing wrong, telling me how all of my choices are wrong, telling me that I am not worth it. It's such a pleasure to do this show again, this time on my own, without him.

My writing partner, Ranger Smith, was dogging me on the question of God this week. He's a confirmed agnostic and it's hard to explain to someone like that about faith and how I just know God plays a part in my life. It got me thinking about Amy The Writer and her blog about finding God (sorry, Amy, I haven't had time to do all the blog reading I normally do so I'm way behind on yours!). It's times like these, when I get to relive a moment in time that is colored by such negativity imposed on me by my ex, that I know that God exists and that He blesses my life with these simple gifts. The simple gift of enjoying my work, embracing the praise from those around me without feeling that I somehow don't deserve it. I feel God's presence when I realize that, if I had stayed with him, I would not be doing this right here, right now. Because I would be dead. Not figuratively, but in reality. Because I could not have survived, continuing to live with him.

I had a choice the night I thought about ending it. Actually, I had three choices. One, die. Totally and completely die. Two, die emotionally. Lose everything I loved and just live, with no purpose but to make him happy and serve him. Shut off my heart and my head and just be his wife. Three, choose to live, whatever that meant.

I chose to live. And God has let me live again, giving me the chance to replace the bad with the good, to finally know what this could have been and what it is now.

I'm glad I chose to live.

And for those of you who may be in the same situation I was - living a life that is not real and not true and not the life you deserve to live - it's time to wake up and find your life. Whether you're 20 or 40 or 80. Look at your life, look at the person next to you and ask yourself this - what is this going to look like 20 years from now? Is this what I want the next 20 years of my life to be? If it is, good luck and God bless. You are one of the lucky ones. If it's not, then get your ass out of bed and find your life. I wish I had found mine sooner but I'm glad I found it at all.

One down, 999,999 to go.

It took a long time and I never thought I’d see it but, tonight, a clown died. It took phenomenal fire power, like one of those gigantic monsters in a video game, but it finally bellowed its last breath and died.

It was the clown who liked to proclaim that I simply MUST DO IT ALL AND DO IT RIGHT AND DO IT THE WAY EVERYONE ELSE WANTS ME TO DO IT OR I’M A HUGE FAILURE. Sorry for the caps but the clown only talked in loud, screaming caps.

This clown has been the recipient of multiple attacks in the past three years, particularly from those of you close to me. Your constant reminders that what I want is the most important thing and to really figure out what is important to me, not to the whole world, were like little, continuous shots at this huge, looming clown. But like the video games, it was hard to tell if these little shots were having any effect. I don’t have a red bar at the top of my screen to tell me how much life this creature has and I have tried to hang on to my ammunition and just keep throwing things at it, hoping some day that I would throw enough at it (with the help of my friends) that maybe this clown would be mortally wounded and eventually die.

He died tonight when I realized I could do whatever the hell I wanted. That’s it. Whatever I chose to do was right. It’s been coming on for a while but I never could look at it because the clown was always standing in front of that fact, denying me access.

Tonight, I threw the biggest piece of ammunition at him that I have – putting myself first.

I am under a lot of pressure with two shows and two jobs and my parents and life in general. I’m trying to juggle about 20-25 hours per week of medical transcription, 30 hours of teaching, six hours of additional training to teach, 12 or more hours of rehearsal, three to six hours of writing with Ranger Smith and Madame H, never mind my own writing, obligations to the Ark, obligations to Eclectic (which I have not been keeping up on), ferrying my folks around as necessary…

Had a great rehearsal tonight but have spent today trying to figure out how to juggle all of the above. I have to find props and wardrobe for USC show, go to admin training in the morning, teach two classes tomorrow, tidy my room, do some laundry, finish PJR’s present, take Dad for blood tests tomorrow…. Aughhhhh!

But then I had this crazy thought – what’s most important? The USC show is the most important thing right now. What’s second? Jobs, unfortunately, right now as I have bills to pay. Parents are kind of priority #2-1/2, sometimes #2 depending on how Dad’s feeling. Writing and other creative work is third. Admin training, “tech” (which is art class), and everything else is last.

What does that mean?

That means I sent an email to my supervisor at Mission Renaissance saying that I cannot come to admin or tech until after the USC show. Yes, it’ll set me back and it means I won’t get a little bit of pay for going to admin but it also means I can get some sleep in the mornings after nights like tonight where I just got home at 11:35 and am exhausted and wide awake at the same time. I don’t have to immediately try to force myself to sleep when sleep is a long way away. I don’t have to wake up in the morning and try to cram KK work in (which, luckily, I don’t have any tomorrow) and then head to admin and then scramble to get home and get myself together to go and teach and then…

It means I can let myself unwind tonight, spend some time with Twyla, wake up later tomorrow, take some time in the morning to do the things I need to do and then go and teach. It means I can take time for myself and not run myself ragged and crazy and exhausted, which leads to getting horribly run down, which leads to not feeling good, which leads to an inability to keep up with this crazy schedule, which leads to BIG CLOWN telling me I am letting everyone down because I’m not doing/being all to/for everyone and how dare I take the time to slow down and do what I want because I’m letting everyone down and I’m a disappointment and I’m lazy and stupid (wow, this clown sounds exactly like my ex-husband) and how dare I not do everything at once, which leads to depression and suicidal ideation. Not a good combination.

The clown didn’t like when I told him that I just didn’t care, I wasn’t going to admin tomorrow. The USC show is the most important thing right now, as well as my well-being. The clown bellowed and screamed and stomped his feet and caused me to waver momentarily. Maybe I didn’t need to sleep that much. I haven’t sleep much the past few days, what were a few more? But then, I heard a chorus of voices behind me, who sounded remarkably like my friends and my loved ones, shouting battle cries and cheers of support. I stood up to that clown and said, fuck you, I’m not going. I need sleep, I need rest, I need to focus on this show. Tech and admin will be there after the 9th, no one will die because I didn’t go read another policy about how to teach or because I’m a few weeks later finishing “the rack.” The clown tried throwing things at me but I just dodged them easily, putting my fingers in my ears and basically saying, nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner, you can’t catch me, and running away like the adult I am. The clown lumbered after me, but I was too agile, telling him I didn’t need to justify my choices to him. It’s my life and my priorities. I finally turned and stood my ground and just shouted up at him, over his noise, over his bellowing, saying, “Shut up! I know what I want. I know what’s important. I’m not disappointing anyone and they will understand. I don’t need you to make me feel like a failure because I am not a failure because these choices are exactly in line with what I want and with my priorities. So fuck off.”

The clown swayed, the death blow delivered as I walked away, not throwing anything more because I didn’t need to. I heard the squeak as he fell on his little red nose and the thwang as his big floppy feet flipped out from under him. He whimpered a bit and then expired.

For a moment, the remaining 999,999 clowns held their breath as they watched their brother fall. They were astonished, never having seen one of their ranks face down, his clown white spreading around him. Then they started bellowing.

But I am not hearing them right now because I know that they can be felled. I know that all I have to do is find their Achilles heel and cut it off. I know that I can do it, with the ammunition augmented by those around me.

I know the war is not over yet but at least the first battle is won.

I won’t say “rest in peace, clown #1” because I hope you rot in hell with all the other pieces of my life that tormented and almost destroyed me.

Faking it... until now.

I’ve spent the last three years just tumbling through the things I’ve done. I love directing, I love writing, I love the art I’ve created over the past three years but I realized tonight that I have never felt that I owed any of it. I’ve always been afraid that I’m going to be “found out”, that somehow, some day, everyone’s going to realize I’m a fake and a phony and not really able to do anything that I say I can. I’ve done projects because they were there and focused more on completing them than making them good. Luckily, I usually have a terrific group of people around me who have made the pieces strong while I tried to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

I’ve spent a great deal of time pretending that I know what I’m doing. I’ve gotten really good at making everyone think I’m in control of every situation and that I have a handle on it. And I do – partially. I do the producing thing well and the organizing thing well and the motivational thing well. The piece I think I’ve been missing is that I’ve never believed I’ve done the artistic thing well. Because of all the other skills I have and do well with, I often get caught up in that and lose the artistic side, looking back on projects thinking “if I had only focused more on the directing than the producing” or whatever. I’ve never had faith in myself as an artist.

This has led me to make choices that are motivated by trying to make those around me happy. I realized that I went out of my way trying to find things I could put the OOMA in, partially because he is most definitely one of the best actors I have ever worked with and because he’s easy to work with and we have (had?) an incredible shorthand that made working easy, and partially because I wanted him near me all the time. He was also (and maybe still is, hard to say) one of my biggest supporters and one of the first people in my life who saw me as an artist, not as a lump of clay to form. But I let my desire of pleasing him get in the way a lot of the time, in weird ways. If I finished a film and he liked it, I was in heaven. I could not own it because I have been taught throughout my life that I cannot own my success. So, if OOMA liked it, I was worthy (wow, I meant to type “it was worthy” but I typed “I was worthy” – interesting). As he faded from my life, I wondered if it was the work we were doing that made him pull away because maybe, somehow, I was disappointing him with the work I was doing. How twisted is that? Because I didn’t own my own work. I had to have validation from someone – obviously, needed validation from a man.

With OOMA out of my life, I had no partner left. I had no one who I could turn to and deflect the attention off me. I had no one to steal ownership of my work, not that he did, but I had no one to give ownership of my work to. Even when I started writing the script of “The Wraith” and the lovely and talented PRS was starting working with me, I found myself wanting to give him lots of credit for things that he didn’t do. He was available when we started and then his job changed and he was only able to act as kind of an editor – I would write and send him pages and then he would give me notes or occasionally send me short passages of dialog. But I worried and I struggled over what kind of credit to give him on the script. I felt that I had done the majority of the work but wanted to acknowledge him so I put the credit as “story by” both of us and then promptly felt like, again, I was letting him down, I wasn’t giving him enough of my credit, I was being selfish and not giving away my ownership of the script.

I finally felt like I began taking ownership, weirdly enough, when I started writing with Ranger Smith and Madame H. Maybe it was the combination of working with a man and a woman but I no longer felt like I had to give away all the credit for the first film we wrote together. I felt proud of the work we did but I didn’t feel compelled to say, “no, it’s all them.” Maybe it’s that they let me sort of spearhead the way we write or what we write and maybe it’s that they make me feel like I know what the hell I’m doing. They give me a great deal of respect and, when we’re writing with the Moderately Successful Comedian, they turn to me when decisions have to be made and they let me drive our sessions, when we’ll meet, what we write. It’s still very much a collaboration and very much a team, but I no longer feel that I have to give away my ownership in what we do.

That being said, and this was a very roundabout way to get here, but I finally feel like I’m about to do the best work of my life. That’s my goal for this year. THE BEST FREAKING WORK OF MY LIFE… so far. To really, truly own what I am doing, not just do it because it’s there and I said I would. Make choices that will make the work worthwhile and not just going through the motions of it.

I think that’s what drove me to make the difficult decision of firing an actor recently. It was an extremely difficult decision because it was an actor I had a great deal of respect for but the role was not coming together. The actor just didn’t seem to get the role, find the meat of it, and the actor also came into every rehearsal with an attitude and an excuse. I found myself wanting to make the actor happy, not wanting to rock the boat and yet I would go home from every rehearsal frustrated and angry and aggravated because I didn’t feel like I could say, “hey, I expected more from you, and you need to step it up because you’re not doing your job.” But I want to make everyone happy and this particular actor is very popular and I knew that any discussion that questioned their ability was going to bring on a whole world of hurt. But, finally, I could no longer let it slide because the work was suffering and I love this piece and didn’t want to do it halfway. I fired the actor after the actor handled a situation very flippantly and I decided that I would not tolerate this, that my work was suffering because I felt like I had to make the actor happy instead of focusing on getting my best work done. And I fired the actor. And a whole world of hurt began for about three weeks. Hurt that bled over to my Birthday Twin, hurting her in ways she should not have been hurt. And I had a brief moment of wanting to give in, wanting to do a less than stellar production because I had upset a couple of the popular people. I was almost willing to give up doing my best work just to make someone else happy.

Then I woke up. I figured, fuck it, it’s my show, I’m the director and this show is not coming together the way I want it because this actor is not doing their job. That’s it, that simple. I don’t owe anybody anything when they are not holding up their end of the deal and when their performance is preventing the show from growing and becoming what I need it to be. If my name is going on something as director, I have to know that I did everything I could to make it the best show possible. I’ve walked out of shows before because I didn’t think they worked and I didn’t want my name on them. I need to embrace that and know that I must take ownership in what I do.

With that in mind, this is going to be the year of the best work I’ve ever done. That means making sacrifices and making hard choices and maybe letting some projects go because I’m too busy to do them right. I want to take my time and make sure I’m happy with what I’m doing. I need to take ownership and be confident that I’m doing every single thing in a way that isn’t rushed, isn’t pushed, and isn’t just slammed together because I want to make something. I want the films and shows I do from now on to be so strong and so much mine that I won’t look back and wish I had done something different. If something is bad, it’s because I didn’t focus enough on it and I didn’t give it a chance. Or maybe it’s just bad and I have to own that, too.

I need to stop giving away my ownership without losing the sense of collaboration I so treasure with those in my repertory company(ies). I want to share the credit and share the wealth while still being able to say “that’s mine.” I need to show myself that I am good at what I do and that there is a reason that I am here. I need to ignore the clowns (“with their little red noses and their big floppy shoes”) and embrace that I am good at directing and writing and art and anything in that ilk. Sure, I’m going to screw up and there are going to be things that suck, but until I can embrace and own the good, I cannot allow myself to own the bad. I’ve been owning the bad for a long time, earned or not, and now I want to make sure I can look at my work and say, “I did the best work of my life.” No excuses, no apologies. The best work of my life.

100 things (per Monica)

1. Smart – without condescension and ridicule
2. Curious – about everything in life, mine and his
3. Funny – when I’m not, when I am, when he’s not, when he is
4. Talented – in whatever it is – banking, surfing, acting
5. Passionate – about my life, his life, our life, everything in life
6. Spontaneous – with experience, with affection, with passion
7. Intensity – with purpose and with direction
8. In touch with emotions – his and mine
9. Accessible – must be able to communicate, even when I can’t
10. Patient – with me…
11. Respectful of me, of himself, of others
12. Quiet – in indefinable ways
13. Beautiful eyes that speak the words I cannot
14. Hands that I can’t take my eyes off of and that touch with love, never with agenda or intimidation
15. Who would be willing to find me if I ever got lost – literally and figuratively
16. Must understand romance is more than a word or a flower
17. Must desire to defend my honor, whether it needs defending or not
18. Able to leap tall buildings when I can’t
19. Arms that are strong when they need to be and gentle and comforting when they need to be
20. Adventurous
21. Available – in every way
22. Two very good ears to listen when I need him to
23. Lack of the ability to be judgmental
24. Taller than me but not terribly tall
25. Artistic in his own way
26. Love film
27. Love to read
28. Did I say talented? Can I repeat talented?
29. Green eyes or blue eyes.
30. Must be able to break my heart in all the right ways
31. Must know himself.

(only 69 to go... interesting number...)

The balance of our lives

The last few months have gotten me thinking about balance, both as a concept of making things equal and as a concept of the remainder of something.

I have a hard time balancing things. Zadra pointed out to me on time that I tend to be all or nothing, black or white, very little grey. Sometimes, that’s great. It means I make decisions quickly, I am quick to adapt to changes in situations, etc. It also means I occasionally react too quickly and sometimes don’t think things through before I leap off the cliff. I’ve found myself way in over my head a few times because of this all or nothing attitude and, since Zadra told me that, I’ve been working very hard to not be that black and white, to not be that reactive, to find the balance between being quick-thinking and impulsive, to find the balance of not being mired in too much thought while making sure I take the time to think. It’s a difficult balance for me and one I will probably struggle with all my life.

My relationships tend to be that way - you’re my friend or you’re not. There’s very little room for in between. If I love you, then I LOVE you and that’s it. If you do something that breaks from my expectation of you, the disappointment is so deep and so black that there is no air in there. Particularly when it comes to men, and I’m realizing how much of that is from my relationship with my mother, weirdly enough. I want the men in my life to LOVE me and I bend myself into a million different pretzel shapes to be what I think they want from me instead of just being me and fuck them if they don’t like that shape. Finding the balance between being myself and being something I’m not. Find the balance between the all or nothing I feel about most of the men in my life and just taking the relationship we have at its face value instead of doing to them what I do to myself – make them and our relationship into something I think I want it to be.

This was very clear the other night when I left Cute Boy behind after a very black evening I had been having. He could not have been more delightful and charming and entertaining after he heard about my bouts of depression. He did everything but puppet shows to cheer me up and I think if he had had an extra pair of socks on him, puppets would have definitely made the scene. Driving home, instead of being delighted to have such a wonderful friend and instead of seeing the love and affection he showed me by trying to cheer me up without fixing me, I got stuck on wanting more than that. Because that’s the way my life has always been – wanting more of something instead of appreciating what I have – finding the balance. I made myself stop and say, “I’m so very glad Cute Boy is in my life, no matter what the capacity, because my life would be missing something if he weren’t there.” Finding the balance between really wishing there was something more there and accepting that there just isn’t going to be and embracing what we have, instead of diminishing it because of what it can’t be. Balancing the moment with the wish. That’s a hard one for me and I’m trying to just exist in that moment where I am grateful for his very special friendship and the bond we have without turning it into something else. Just be. Just accept. Balance.

A recent situation has made me also evaluate the constant struggle for balance between being an authority figure and being a friend. It’s always a challenge to work with people you know because those lines get blurred and we all forget where there lines were. Trying to find the balance between being kind and nurturing and understanding and making difficult choices and difficult decisions. Finding the balance between being the person I want to be and the person I have to be. Finding the balance between what is expected and what is real. Finding the balance in me to stand up and say “enough” and weather the storm and just letting things lay and losing myself in the storm. It’s been a hard couple of weeks for me, and a learning experience for me about standing up for what I want and trying not to break toes on the way. Finding the balance between hard and soft, between challenges and solutions. Finding the balance between giving up something and gaining something. And not allowing my clowns (“little red noses and big floppy feet” and all) to throw that balance off by adding weights to the already tipped scales of criticism and keeping the scales balanced by knowing I did what I thought was right.

And then there’s balance, as in the amount of something that is left. Losing Perry so recently makes me think about the balance of my life. I struggle right now because I don’t see my life as being what I want it to be. It’s all out of balance, out of sync, and it is difficult every single day because I don’t see the end in sight of this dislocation of my life. What made me change my life was the thought of the balance of my life and what that would be made up of. Perry looked at the balance of his life and decided to make it a balance of a life of things that would make him happy. He helped me on my film because he always wanted to work with me. I’m sure I made him crazy as we have two very different styles of filmmaking but I’m glad he did it because there was no balance in his life left and we were able to share a very special moment in time. He changed his life so that he was doing exactly what he wanted to do when the balance of his life ran out. He had someone in his life who had loved like I have never seen him love someone. He looked at the balance of his life and decided this is what it would be. I want to remember that there is a balance to our lives and none of us know what that amount is. Perry struggled for a long time to find his balance and I think he found it in the last months of the balance of his life.

I don’t want to find that balance in the last few moments of my life. I want to find that balance while I’m living the balance of my life. I want to hang on to the scales and make sure that I check them constantly for balance – whether it’s professionally as I juggle too many projects right now, or in my relationship with Cute Boy (or future Cute Boys or Geeky Boys or Adorable Boys or Crush Boys), or in my relationships with the amazing women in my life. Find the balance where it isn’t all or nothing, find the balance that keeps the world on a reasonably even keel so I’m not constantly trying to keep my sea legs under me.

Find the balance for the balance of my life. That’s my goal this year. And next year. And for the balance of my life.

A good day

Feeling the need to brag a bit:

Just got asked to direct for the USC Master in Professional Writing Program, which I had done for two years about four years ago. It's a prestigious event and I was recommended by the previous producer to the new producer because of the success I had with the two I did previously (wow, really fractured that sentence). Here's the link for info on the program:

http://www.usc.edu/dept/LAS/mpw/students/index.php

Mine is a piece called Juche Rules and is a very powerful political piece about North Korea. And there's a $250 stipend, which is nothing to sneeze at. I would like three 0's at the end of it but I'll take it. Nice to recommended based on the strength of something I did so long ago. Oh, and it goes up April 8th and 9th, my birthday, at the East West Players Theater.

AND

We have been asked by a recent collaborator to work on a new show of his. Very excited. Still working out the details as he was considering another writer but loves the work we've done so far. Still, even if it doesn't go forward, it's nice to know that our work is appreciated and our talents are desired.

All in all, a very lovely day.

Virtual Fridge update

Have lots to write about but no time to write, although today, I'm home sick and don't feel like writing anything.

So here are a couple of new oil paintings (tone oil using only raw umber and white):



This one was to learn how to paint metal. I am really proud of the way this came out. Took about 6 hours to paint. Had to scan this in as two parts, so please excuse the line in it.



The assignment with this one was to complete a simple tone oil painting in one single class - about 2-1/2 hours. Not bad but couldn't really do anything too challenging.

The next one I start this week will be what is called "The Rack" - take a linen napkin, starch it, drape it on a board so there are interesting folds and pleats and paint that. Can't wait! Might take up to four or five classes to do that one.

Just for grins

This made me laugh very hard so I figured I needed to share it with y'all.


moar humorous pics

Consider it your silly moment for the day.

What's the point?

I started this blog again recently so I could share wins and successes and try to write about recovering from the mid-life crisis and sharing what life is like now, 30 months after launching this new life. I thought I had many positive things to share and really wanted to focus this year on being more appreciative for the life I’ve created. However, when one struggles with depression, appreciation is hard to find. But sometimes, it sneaks up on you and bitch-slaps you in the face.

I was driving home the other night, knowing I was going to be writing with Madame H and Ranger Smith. I look forward to the nights we write because we enjoy each other immensely and we’re a great team. Then Madame H called to say she wouldn’t be able to make it. I almost called Ranger and cancelled because all I could think for the past few days was “what’s the point?” Why am I busting my ass to create these things – scripts, short films, Cinderella – what’s the point to all of it? I’m still in the same place, fighting the same demons, battling the same depression. How is this a win? How do I share this as a success when I feel like such a fraud, such a failure?

I park my car and Ranger gets out of his, grinning that crooked little grin of his and I can’t help but smile back at him. We have a not terribly successful night of staring at my laptop and writing about ½ page of a difficult script we’re starting. Then he said something I’m still not used to hearing from men. We were talking about a budget/script breakdown I’m going to do for him and his partner on a script of theirs. We were discussing what they needed and I told him I’d do it, etc. He then said something about taking me to dinner to partially pay me for my efforts and I said something snarky about “if only I could find a guy who would appreciate me.” And he was quiet for a moment then said, “I really appreciate you.” Seriously, sincerely, without agenda or demand. I get that from many women in my life and am slowly getting it from the men in my life but it always makes me stop when they actually offer it up without me prodding or begging for it. And I thought, that’s what makes this worth it. Those moments of true connection, true friendship, true appreciation for one another.

Then I go Friday morning for administrative training for the eventual Assistant Program Director job at my studio and I am thrilled to find out that they screwed up and aren’t ready for me yet so I get to go and paint instead! Yippee! I am still not terribly confident in what I’m doing as a painter. I am intimidated by some of the artists I train around and I am always kind of uncertain when I sit down to paint. But I love it almost as much as I love directing. So I sit down, I pull out my three silly props which I am painting – a metal coffee pot, a small gravy boat and a cup – set up my canvas and start. Immediately, I find myself in that rare zone of totally focused and confident. The paint brush is an extension of my hand, with a mind of its own, putting down brush strokes before I even see them. As I’m painting, my instructor walks by and stops. I hold my breath, waiting for the gentle critique that usually comes from that stop. She just says, “good” and moves on. Then one of the big mucky-mucks comes by and she stops and says, “wow, that’s really, really good” and moves on. And I start to think, this is why it’s worth it. Then this young woman who is so talented and who I admire so much peeks over at my canvas as she’s been sitting next to me most of the morning. Her eyes light up and she says quite earnestly, “wow, that’s so good. I was watching you paint and you really seem to be so much more confident today. And it really shows.” And I look at my half-done painting and realize that I am more confident and I am so enjoying learning this new skill and flexing m painterly muscles. And that’s what makes this all worth it.

Then I taught two challenging classes (our Friday classes try my last nerve sometimes) and I am exhausted but I drag my tired butt to my friend’s birthday dinner because it’s the first one of his I’ve been invited to in a while. I know my ex will be there and I am still not comfortable around him. I’m not ready to let him back into my life in any way whatsoever and that makes it difficult. I sometimes want him there, want to be able to show him my artwork and share my joys and my successes with him. But I’m afraid of his criticism and his harsh words and his ability to make me feel like what I do has no value. So I continue to be extremely guarded around him. But my car stereo decides to put things in perspective for me as I drive off, playing Keith Urban’s “Stupid Boy” as I pull away from the studio. “She laid her heart and soul right in her hands/but you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans/she never even knew she had a choice/and that’s what happens when the only voice she hears is telling her she can’t/stupid boy.”

At dinner, I get to share my paintings with my friends because they haven’t really seen any of them and their joy and celebration over my wins and successes make me feel warm and loved. And yet as I sit at the table with these people who used to be some of my dearest friends, I realize that I don’t belong with them anymore. I don’t know why or how I know that, I just don’t. I used to really miss them and wonder what I did to lose them in my life. I realize now that it’s just the way life is. We come together, we move apart sometimes. That doesn’t mean we’re bad people. We’re just people. And I listen to the snippets of conversation that my ex is having at his end of the table and, for a fleeting moment, I really, truly, terribly miss him and the life we had. But I realize one of the reasons we don’t have that life is that I grew into someone else and he stayed the same. He doesn’t seem to have changed one bit over the past 30 months but I feel like a completely new person. I realize that going to this party was worth it because it showed me the life I could still be living and it showed me that it is not the life that I want to live. My life is plenty wonderful, thank you very much, and it’s hard and it’s a struggle and it continues to baffle me even on the best of days.

But it is worth every single struggle, every single broken heart moment that sneaks up on me, it is worth every tear shed over lost and missed opportunities and it is worth every aching desire and want, whether it be for the OOMA or Cute Boy or any of the million things my life is lacking. It is worth it because it is my life. And I own it more and more every day. And that is what makes it all worth it.


As does my teddy bear (oil painting done in tones only):

5 days left to vote for "Weight of the Word" for the top 50 on Famecast.com

"Weight of the Word" has been doing very well on Famecast.com, currently hanging out in the #5 position. Thanks for your continued support for this film.

Voting for the top 50 ends Saturday, February 2nd at 9 PM PST so get your votes in and help keep us in the top 50.

I'm am thrilled that the film has stayed up in the top 5 ever since I submitted it. I put it up on a whim, not quite ready to tackle a full blown promotional campaign as I had done for "The Change-Up" because it takes a lot of time and energy. Well, thanks to all of you, I haven't had to put much time in because you got used to voting in the last round and continue to vote in this round. I appreciate your support so very much. The cool thing on this round is that if we stay in the top 5 and I have to go to Austin again to represent the film, it should be right on my birthday in April. Wouldn't that be amazing?!

"Weight of the Word" was created as part of the 48 Hour Film Project 2006 and features the acting chops of Chairman Barnes, Erik Engman, Zadra Ibanez, Tricia Pierce, Patty Jean Robinson, Peter Ross Stephens, Michelle Welton, and Lindsay Wray. It asks the question "how free is our speech?"

So, you know the drill:

1. Sign up/login

2. Click on your NEW bookmark - http://www.famecast.com/contest/stage.php?stage_id=51&round_id=185&artist_id=6102

3. Vote. Daily if you can.

4. Spread the word. If you know anyone in the film or anyone who made the film (hmmmm.... Who could that be?)

Please repost this information and pass it along to help keep us in the top 50.

Thanks, as always, for your support.

Out of Dormancy

01/08/08 – Dormancy

Sorry this blog has seemed to have been dormant for so long but I wasn’t sure there was a need for it anymore. I wasn’t sure I had anything to say. Things are moving along, they are fine, they are not fine, depending on the day.

It was easy to write this blog when life was tumultuous and exciting and scary and full of discovery. It was easy to write about how hard it was and the struggles and the successes. It was easy to write about heartbreak and depression and films and moving on.

What’s hard to write about is the life that is now. The daily existence, the boring details of a life that is being lived.

But that is the success of my life – the life that is being lived.

The first year of living this new life was a year of just being, trying to let go of the life I was walking away from, trying to not look back and wonder if I did the right thing, bounding into the playground with the few friends that followed me from that life – my dearest Zadra and my dearest Chairman. They are the ones who put their hands out and said, “Hey, it’s okay, we’re here to help you.” I leapt into that first year like a baby, stumbling and struggling and trying to figure out how to just get through the day. And I survived.

The second year of this new life was the hardest. It was discovering that I didn’t really know who I was, despite putting on a valiant face and trying to pretend that I was just what everyone told me I was – strong, powerful, smart, creative. They saw my vulnerability and began to show me that it was okay to be vulnerable. But that vulnerability took over my life for a short time. It turned into a desire to have someone in my life who would let me fail and be vulnerable and made me try to force a relationship that was not ready to be had. My head thought we were ready for something but my heart was not there yet. And, in the end, it cost me one of my most valued relationships because I couldn’t get a hold of my emotions and I became what my ex had told me all along that I was – emotional, inconsistent, weak and dependent. I didn’t know who I really was and I was looking for someone to define me. In the end, it cost me a huge piece of my heart.

The first two years of my new life held a desperation, a feeling that there was some invisible clock ticking that meant I had to figure it all out before you all figured out that I didn’t have it figured out. I thought I had to be “fine” by some calendar date otherwise I was a failure at this new life and I would let everyone down. I was afraid because so many women seemed to look at me as a role model, as someone who had gotten out and succeeded. I felt like a liar and failure and a fraud.

These past six months, which makes up half of my third year into this adventure, have begun to find a routine, a balance to my life, which is allowing me to really, truly just be. To have the time to learn it’s okay to not know who I am and what I want. I no longer hear the ticking clock. It is my time now, whatever that means.

I think what this blog needs to turn into is the story of a life – an every day life of a woman who started over, just like you can. It is a story no longer filled with constant discovery but still rich with that discovery, when it happens. It is a story of a woman who has lived and learned so much in a mere 30 months that it is still astounding sometimes that it has only been that long. It is a story of a woman who has found what we all seek – a life on her own terms.

The success of my life is the recovery of that life. The simple redundancy that my life is becoming is a success in and of itself. Discovering that routine is good and that there is a dawning knowledge of the future, not as a concept that has no shape because there is no one to plan it with (or criticize it as wrong), but as a true and clear destination that is going to lead somewhere. It is a life that has a schedule – 10 art classes a week at Mission Renaissance, writing twice a week with Madame H and Ranger Smith, yoga twice a week (when I can convince myself that it’s good for me) – and it has a plan – Carmel maybe for my birthday, the lab show at the Ark in March, finishing Cinderella and shooting “The Wraith” – and it has stability, for the first time in almost four years, since before my marriage began its end.

The celebration of the midlife is that there is no crisis anymore. There is no urgency to find a life and figure out all the questions and answers and tap-dance my way around what I don’t know. The celebration of the midlife is that – it is mid-life. I have lived half of it, learning much, hurting much, leaving much behind. But there is still that other half in front of me that doesn’t need to be figured out today, that will be there when I arrive tomorrow, and it is there to be shaped and discovered, not fretted over and manipulated to fit some twisted idea I have about what that future should be. I’m finally at a place where I think I can let the future unfold and take me along with it. I’m planning for my future – film shoots, shows at the Ark, vacations, etc. – but I’m also willing now to just follow along where it leads. It’s led me some wondrous places so far and I cannot wait to see where it leads me next.

So I’m going to try to chronicle the life I am leading, let you know that the success of this life is in the living of it, as simple and mundane as that is. It sure beats the hell out of where I started in June, 2005 and I cannot wait to see where I am in June, 2015. Or 2025.

I hope to see you there with me.

New oil paintings

(If you've checked out my Myspace, you've seen this already.)

I've started oil painting! Yay! The first step is something called "tone oil", which is painting only with raw umber and titanium white and creating the darks and lights of an object. This is the basis of oil painting itself.

Here is my first real oil painting. It's a drill called the "white cup drill." Wow, original. The idea is to paint a white cup with no drawing, only using the brush and paint.



This next one is a vase I tried at home to see if I could do it without help:



This last one I did on Christmas day because I was bored. I like it a lot, although I see where I need to improve. Did it because our Academy was not open this week so I wanted to practice myself.



I'm digging this beyond words. I have to be careful because I'm addicted. I came home tonight and fought with myself to keep from setting up my paints and painting something else. I'm off tomorrow so I'm thinking some painting will get done before I write with the Ranger and Madame H.

Enjoy.

Theatricapalooza tonight! 10 plays created in 24 hours.

Theatricapalooza: Take it to the Limit is an event that I am writing and directing in!

It happens today, Saturday, Dec 22. We have two performance times, one at 8 pm and one at 10:30 pm. Tickets are $10 each. If you are in town, you just cannot miss this!

At 8 pm last night, the ten writers (including me) showed up to get their assignments. They were told the theme of the event and they drew the age ranges and genders of the cast they would be writing for (but without knowing the names). They also drew a line of dialogue out of a hat which must be utilized word-for-word somewhere in the piece. By 8 am this morning, all scripts (approximately ten minutes long) must be handed in and are assigned to a cast and a director. Then off we go, to rehearse, memorize lines, do our tech rehearsals and perform the two shows at 8 pm and 10:30 pm.

Space is limited, as there are only about 60 seats in the house for each show! So make a reservation RIGHT NOW. Don't miss it! 818 508 3003 (ext 5) for reservations or email info@eclecticcompanytheatre.org. You can visit the theatre's website at www.eclecticcompanytheatre.org.

Theatricapalooza is a fundraiser for Kerr Package (4 of Kerr Seth Lordygan's one-act plays), which opens January 11. More on that to come as well.

And look for a feature article on Theatricapalooza this Thursday in the LA Times Calendar section! Spread the word about this amazing event! Did I mention the event is also co-sponsored by Karl Strauss? That means GOOD BEER!

See the feature article in the LA Times: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-gd-perf20dec20,1,5305022.story

I feel a poem coming on (don't say I didn't warn you)

Who want to
wrap me up
in their arms tonight?
Safe, secure, warm.
Pretending
it'll be all right.
Pretending
the world won't
come crashing down.
Pretending
that they love me.

The year in review

This has been the most challenging year of my life. Incredible highs, incredible lows. Great growth and enormous set-backs. Disappointments abound and yet expectations are far exceeded. It’s been a roller coaster and I’m not sure it’s done yet.

The hardest thing is losing one of the most treasured friendships in my life. One who was so dear to me, who I thought would always be there, thought would maybe some day be something more than a friend, someone without whom I would not have made it through the first moments of my new life. It was there one day then slowly faded, without warning, without discussion, without explanation. Just gone. Occasional contact through necessary emails but the delicate nature of what was once such a blessing is now dissipated and vaporous. I miss you every single day still. I wish you knew that. And I wish that thought didn’t scare you so much. But I can’t do anything about it now. You’re off with a new muse, I guess, and you never looked back. I only wish you love and blessing and that you find whatever will bring you the joy and the love you seek that you chose not to find in me.

I’m still alone. That’s so incredibly difficult. I see my friends with their loved ones and I am glad that they have found that person who fills them. I know it’ll take time. I know that Cute Boy, who I can’t have, is just a step on the way to finding someone to share myself with and is like training wheels for a relationship. I’m still wobbly and I have skinned my knees a lot but hope that I am finding the balance and the control to drive off my own street and venture out into the neighborhoods beyond to see what’s there. Maybe this year the training wheels will come off. Maybe not. I won’t know until we’re here again in a year.

The ladies in my life, however, have never been stronger and more supportive and more amazing than they have this year. Watching each of them grow and follow their hearts and their dreams makes me stronger and more hopeful. Monica and her writing achievements and her goofy affection for her boy toy; Patty and her discovery of what she really wants in her life and the potential for her creative growth when we tackle “Keely and Du”; Anna B. and her blossoming from this shy, scared, wounded woman in an absolutely delightful, funny, quirky dame; Zadra and her own unique Zadraness and her beautiful gift of friendship; as well as the other ladies who move in and out of my life. You have held my hand through the losses and the fears and the joys and the terror. You will never know what you mean to me.

Creatively, I have been beaten and broken and battered yet come out stronger and more solid in who I am and what I do. Discovering the wonderful gift of collaboration with Monica and Dave has been amazing. We are a blessed trio, wacky, dark, weird and wonderful. I am excited about the potential we have and hope that we are still working together in five years or ten years or 20 years. They bring out in me the most wonderful parts and give me the confidence and respect to help me write better than I have ever written in my life.

The support of “The Wraith” cast has moved me in their unflinching belief that, somehow, with $1.50, we can make something amazing. I hope I can honor their belief and their trust and hold up my end of the bargain in 2008.

And then Famecast. Who knew when Richard B. sent me this innocent little email suggesting I check out this site that “The Change-Up” would end up in the top 5 and I would have been spending rock start time in Austin representing that film. It was exhausting, difficult, challenging, emotional, and it’s not over yet. I am learning that this one is for me to learn how to do this on my own, without relying on anyone to validate the effort, without having someone in Austin to share it with me (other than over the cellular stratosphere). This one is for me, as much as I share it with everyone else, and I’m glad I got to experience it.

I have learned so much about myself, the good and the bad, this year. And I’m realizing I’m just breaking the surface. I’m trying to avoid the old patterns and create new ones that will help me on this path and keep me moving. I need to make sure that in 20 years, I don’t look back at this time and wonder if it was all worth it. I want to look back and see how these baby steps led me to a wondrous, fulfilling, crazy, insane, joyful life. I hope to look back and see where I chose right and where the lifelong friendships I hope I still have in 2037 started.

I started about in 2004 thinking about the next 30 years of my life. That thought led me to 2007 and the first few years of that 30. I regret very few choices in this short new life. I don’t think we can grow without a few regrets. I am a baby now, just beginning that 30 year voyage. I hope to take these lessons and this discovery into my infant-hood and mid-life adolescence and grow and become the woman that I want to be, the woman who took a chance 30 years ago in 2007 and found herself living those 30 years with the joy and the love and the passion that she hoped she would find.

I wish the same for all of you. Look 30 years into the future and imagine what you want your life to be like. Then make it that. It’s that simple, it’s that complicated. But it’s what we all deserve. Live to the best, live to the most.

So this is the real link for you to really vote

Don't forget to vote for "The Change-Up" and here is the REAL link:

http://www.famecast.com/contest/stage_top5.php?stage_id=33&round_id=171&artist_id=6102

So click, register, vote. Every day. Simple now that we know where the link is! We're currently #4 so we have a long way to go.

And you get a brief glimpse of me from my whirlwind Austin tour as I introduce the film online now!

Please feel free to repost this and share it with those you love.. and who you don't love!

Sorry about the confusion.

Luv. =)

Change in the voting link for "The Change-Up" on Famecast.com

Of course, Famecast.com has changed the link now that we're in the top 5.

Here's where to go to vote for this week:

http://www.famecast.com/contest/stage_top5.php?stage_id=33&round_id=171

Sorry 'bout that. Change your bookmark, if that'll help.

Thanks for the support!

Voting begins again today for "The Change-Up"

My short film, "The Change-Up" is currently in the top 5 on Famecast.com, a competition website, on its way to $10,000!

Voting begins Saturday, December 15 at 6 PM and goes through Saturday, December 22nd. You can vote each day per email. So if you really want to support the film, register with more than one email and take 30 seconds and vote from each.

Here’s how you do it:

1. Register at http://www.famecast.com.

2. Follow directions on your confirmation email. If you don't get a confirmation email, go to Famecast.com and click on "Re-issue confirmation email."

3. Bookmark my page http://www.famecast.com/lifeonitssideproductions

4. Vote. Every single freaking day. It's that easy.

This is the final round of voting for $10,000. Every single vote counts. Please feel free to share this information with your friends and encourage them to vote as well. Let me know if you want a daily reminder by emailing me at susan@lifeonitsside.com.

Thanks.

Susan Lee

Hey

I miss you.

Austin - the long version

Get a drink and a snack, this may be a long one.

4AM – Force myself to get out of bed after going to bed at 1 AM. Shower. Check and double check that I packed everything (of course, I didn't).

5:15 AM – Leave for Burbank Airport.

5:45 AM – Check in for flight, pick up breakfast…



7:15 AM – Board plane…



Take off for Austin!

7:15-8:15 AM – Do some work for Kory while in the air to Vegas. Finish work while on the tarmac at Vegas.

8:15 AM – 1:35 (Austin time) PM – Finish Kory work. Break down "The Wraith" script so I can budget it…



Read "Strange Adventures of Rangergirl" so I can begin working on the adaptation now that I have a non-exclusive option on it.

1:35 PM – Get off in Austin!

Call Toni and am told to go to the curb and wait for one of the Famecast vans to pick me up. See a tall, thin, tattooed woman with partially shaved and multi-colored hair, figured she was with Famecast. She was. Clare. English. Beyond cool. Wait only a short time for the shuttle and get on to go to the hotel.



Back of our driver's head:




2:00 PM – Get to the hotel – Doubletree Suites Hotel. Check in. Receive a warm cookie upon check in.



Go to my room.

Discover it's a suite. See the tour below.



Time to shower and change and enjoy the privacy and the peace and quiet for a little bit. Figure out what to take with me to the event. Practice in my head what I'm going to say about the film (none of which I actually did say).



3:30 PM – Go the lobby and wait for shuttle to event. Meet Tony Villalobos, director of "Beautiful Day." He's already started drinking. Meet the band, Recorder, as they try to figure out how to get on the shuttle. They decide to walk the eight blocks to the venue – in their costumes. (More about them later).





4:00 PM – Arrive at Stubbs BBQ.



Sign in.



Greeted by the incredibly lovely Famecast staff who treated all of us like royalty.

I is an artist, my badge says so.











Discover the craft service table. Meet Andrea Ou, director of "The Tricycle" who just flew in from Taiwan Tuesday. She and her brother were great. Hung out with them a lot. Cool people.

This is me, Tony and Andrea:



Watch Tony drink some more. Run into Clare again, meet the rest of the band – Martin Bregville Sputnik (formerly Sigue Sigue Sputnik in the '80s). Meet a ton of incredibly talented artists in Dance and Electronic top 5.

6:00 PM – Run through what we're doing for the show. Watch Tony drink more. Discover it's an open bar. Eat some really wonderful Texas BBQ. Get interviewed by the documentary crew who are filming the whole thing. Forgive me, those of you whose names I did not mention, because I'm still not used to being interviewed.



6:00 PM – 6:40 PM – Pace a lot while the first two filmmakers go up and talk about their films. I hung around outside because I just couldn't go in. Too much in my own head. Again, the Famecast crew could not have been nicer about being encouraging and supportive. Really great bunch.



6:40 PM – Go up on stage and introduce "The Change-Up." Discover to my horror (and my lesson) that I did not check the output, assuming it was the same as the output I have been using. Wrong. A couple of big fuck-ups from Final Cut Pro. Try not to throw up. Get back up on stage and take the critique from the judges, who were very forgiving about the technical problems. The experts were a woman from Richard Linkletter's company, Alex Smith (writer of "The Slaughter Rule), and John Merriman, programmer of the Austin Film Festival. They all had pretty valid things to say – they loved the cast, particularly the girls. Liked the relationships. Liked the chemistry, which apparently was all from the actors, nothing from me, as Alex basically stopped short of saying he didn't like me as a director. After all, the actors brought everything to the film, I apparently did nothing to assist that. Fuck him. Two of the experts thought the script was not clear enough about what was going on. I've gotten this a couple of times so it's a valid comment to consider. Merriman got the piece totally and really liked it. All three thought that there was so much more there to be explored, again, another comment I've gotten several times. So many people want to know who these women are, what got them there and how they got out of it. That's a big compliment, I think, because people want to see what else happens. They all said they'd like to see the bigger project and see what we could do with the script without the limitations imposed by the 48 hour format. Overall, not bad comments. They were equally critical about all the films, doing their jobs, I guess.



6:55 PM – Get off stage and walk right into the documentary crew, who followed me as I ran into Tony, with another drink his hand, and we chatted about what I thought about the judges critique. Tried not to be aware of the crew. Finally let out the breath I'd been holding and went to the open bar and got a Jamesons.



6:55 PM – 11 PM – Watched the other performers, hang out with the filmmakers, Andrea and Tony. Avoid Tony's very drunken, very sloppy attempts at come-ons to me (hey, I'm into older women – yeah, that's gonna work on me). The other performers were so absolutely incredible. It was almost humbling to be in this company. The dancers were amazing, everything from hip-hip to modern to ariel.



Great electronic music as well. This is Clare:




I could do a whole blog about Recorder but check out their video on Famecast. You'll dig it very much.

The crowd at Stubb's.


Met some of my fans! Several people came up and told me how much they enjoyed "The Change-Up" and that I could count on their vote in the next round (December 15).



11 PM – Try to figure out how to get to the after-party, as this was the last night of the showcase. A guy just appeared and took Andrea, her brother and I to the club, Pure.



Escorted upstairs by the staff to a closed, very hip club open just for us. Open bar, chicken wings and a very celebratory sensibility. The crew finally got to unwind and have a drink with us. Actually spent a very long time talking with Roy Nowlin, the DP on "Elevator Music." Really cool guy lives in New York, just a bit younger than me. He left a job of 14 years as a crane operator in New York a year or so ago to pursue his dream of being a DP. Didn't manage to get another drink because we talked so much.



1:30 AM – Realize I'm no longer listening to Roy, who was interesting, and decided it was time to go back to the hotel. Said my good-byes to everyone. Walk out to the street and promptly throw an artist hissy-fit because there isn't a shuttle waiting for me. Then laugh. The doorman hails me a cab and I get in, realizing I don't know where the hotel is. We finally figure out that it's across from the Chili Pepper (see if you know that reference) and, $4.85 later, I get out. Who do I run into in the lobby? The very drunk Tony, who is still trying to get me to come to his room, apparently because no one else would. Almost thought I was gonna have to call security on him if he followed me to my door. Get into my jammies, find a wi-fi signal and do my mini-blog.



3:00 AM – Finally drift off to sleep.

8:00 AM – Alarm goes off. Alarm gets re-set to 9 AM.

9:00 AM – Alarm goes off. Pack. Double-check everything. Head to the lobby. Hang out with Roy while waiting for the shuttle.



9:30 AM – Get shuttled to airport. Almost get bumped from my flight. End up on the same flight with Clare. Join her on the Vegas/Burbank leg and have a great conversation.

2:00 PM (LA time) – get picked up from Burbank. Glad to be home.



That's the Readers Digest version. Happy to share more when I see you. All in all, an amazing, ridiculously pleasurable trip.

"The Change-Up" is going to Austin

"The Change-Up" came in third out of the top 5 on Famecast.com, which means I get on a plane on Wednesday, attend the Filmmaker Showcase on Wednesday, where "The Change-Up" will be aired on a live webcast, critiqued by "industry experts" and then I will be interviewed about the film.

I am beside myself with joy. This competition has meant so much to me and this is a life-changing moment. I'm glad you all were along for the ride.

But, be prepared. The final round of voting begins December 15th and goes only for a week, so look for more pleading around then to get us to $10,000.

I am humbled and blessed to be in the company of such amazing and supportive people.

As I await for Austin...

I didn’t know how much I wanted this – to win this contest. Now, with about 12 hours left, I am breathless. I’m pretty certain I’ll be leaving for Austin on Tuesday, with about $50 in my pocket so I guess I’m eating at McDonalds and Burger King while I’m there. Okay, the contest is not over yet and there is still the possibility that I will spend Wednesday doing what I usually do but I have faith that Austin awaits.

Why do I want this so much? Well, yes, the acknowledgment is wonderful. To have some success, even if it is through a vote-for-your-friends site, will be very fulfilling. To know my friends support me enough and care enough to be badgered and harassed and bugged daily to vote and then that they do vote humbles me in a way I can’t express. To have entered with 285 other competitors and made it to the top 5 is still stunning to me. It speaks to the quality of the product, the devotion of those who participated and, maybe, to my weirdly driven-ness.

This, though, culminates a journey that began just over two years ago at the opening night of “Lloyd’s Prayer.” My dearest Chairman said to me that night to stop giving away all the credit, to embrace that I am good at directing and to acknowledge it. That the reason “Lloyd’s” was so good was because of me, because of my vision and because of my talent. He and the others just expanded on that. I had never had anyone really say those words to me before – embrace and acknowledge that I am good at this. The men that I had loved in my life were never able to allow that to happen because if I acknowledged that part of me, it somehow diminished them.

That night opened my eyes to my gifts and to the fact that I had to do something with them or I was going to die. Literally die. Those words came at a time when I was quite literally on the verge of throwing it all away – my gifts, my abilities, my joy, my life. It hadn’t been very long before that that I had counted out the pills and contemplated giving it all up, just to make life easier. My heart so ached to be somebody, to achieve something, to have somebody be proud of me, to have somebody who allowed me the ability to play with my gifts and to have somebody open the door and let those gifts out.

I never realized that the person who kept those gifts locked away was me. I allowed this to happen, allowed others to make me feel as though my gifts, my dreams weren’t enough, weren’t right, weren’t of value. I allowed others to make me push my dreams to the back burner and ignore them. I allowed my talents to be diminished by those who could not discover and unleash their own gifts. I allowed them to almost break me.

Chairman’s words that night, though others had probably said the same thing at some point, finally broke through because I was on top of the world that night. I knew I had done something extraordinary, something precious and something amazing. I knew I had a cast like none that I would ever have again, that magic moment when everything comes together in perfection. And I knew that it was mine, it was me, it was where I was supposed to be. Destiny had arrived and I now had to choose what to do with it.

I thought that Chairman was the only voice speaking out at that time but, after that night, I began to hear that voice more and more, audibly and inaudibly. The fact that my “devoted psychopaths” continue to turn out to play with me on these ridiculously short time projects still humbles me to the core. But I also realize it means that they are echoing those words from Chairman – embrace and acknowledge your gifts. We’re here to help you with that. The fact that Ranger Smith and Madame H, two of the strongest writers I have ever worked with, keep wanting to hang out and eat funky food and blather endlessly about existential items and put words to paper echoes Chairman’s words. The support and encouragement I get from the ladies in the Career Success Group, who turn to me for mentoring and inspiration reflect those words so long and yet so short ago.

I changed in my life in June, 2005 so I could go out and find out if those words were true, that I had something worthy of acknowledgment, that I had something worth embracing, that I had something worth risking everything I already had to go and find. And even though the man who spoke those words to me on that night is now only on the fringes of my life, I will forever embrace him for saying the thing my heart had been crying out for. And for opening my ears to hearing those same words from others around me. And for helping me find a way to say, no, stop, I’m not going to let you diminish me anymore. I will not allow it. I am talented, I am gifted and it is wrong to not find a way to express it. So, good-bye, Susan Lee Johnson. That person is gone. I wonder sometimes who she even was.

When I arrive in Austin on Tuesday, it will be as Susan Lee, filmmaker, eccentric, moody, emotional, passionate, “weirdly driven”, focused and obsessed. I will be the Susan who woke up one night in 2005 to her friend saying the things that the one she loved would never utter. I will be the Susan that sees the path and is walking it with her head up high and the pleasure of some wonderful company walking the path with her. And I will take you all with me, in my heart and soul, and share it with you.

Vote, vote, vote, vote, vote, vote

We're #4 today. I'd like to be #3 or higher. Don't ask, it's just an obsession.

Please vote for The Change-Up at Famecast.com.

You know the drill. If you don't, register at Famecast, bookmark our page, then vote every day. That's it. That simple.

Please help send me to Austin next week. I promise a lovely blog filled with pictures.

Please help us to win $10,000 to finance "The Wraith."

Thanks for your continued support.

The week that was

Wow, been a tough, tough week.

Many tears shed, many emotions gone through.

But tonight, there will be celebrating.

"The Change-Up" is #1 at Famecast.com.

Number freaking one.

I had aimed to start in the top 5 in the top 5 round. Never imagined we would start at #1.

The rankings are not public but it's on my account page.

I am overwhelmed.

Packing for Austin!

Voting starts again today for "The Change-Up"

Voting begins again for “The Change-Up” on Famecast.com on Saturday, November 17th at 6 PM PST.

Here are some ways to make voting easier – remember, you can vote once a day – or just vote once. Every vote counts!

1. Register at http://www.famecast.com.

2. Follow directions on your confirmation email. If you don't get a confirmation email, go to Famecast.com and click on "Re-issue confirmation email."

3. Bookmark our page http://www.famecast.com/lifeonitssideproductions

4. Vote. Every single freaking day. It's that easy.

You can register and vote with more than one email account, if you're really bored at work.

Voting ends on Saturday, December 1st. Please support all the hard work of the cast and crew!

Struggles

It is a struggle to keep going in this direction when adversity seems determined to take away the joy of success.

I am heartsick today at the thought of losing this sanctuary where I have grown so far and so much. I am devastated by the challenge against my creative ability. I am rattled to the core of my being by these challenges. I like to think I’m strong and powerful and bigger than this but the truth is, I am not. I am crushed and wounded and aching and angry and all the things I cannot express.

I have lost so much that the potential loss of this is almost more than I can bear. I’ve lost the OOMA and his friendship, which devastates me still. I have lost my relationship of 20 years out of my own choice. I have lost independence in some ways. I have lost my singular existence. I have lost so very much. There have been many gains but sometimes, the losses overwhelm those gains and make it almost impossible to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I have to do a meeting on Monday where I feel like I have to stand in front of these amazing women and try and motivate and inspire them at a moment when I am so far from inspired. I hope I can find the ways to do that because these women are part of the reason I do keep doing what I do. They inspire me.

I know I’ll recover, no matter what happens. I know I’ll go on and keep going because there is nothing else I can do. But right now, what I wouldn’t give for some simple peace, some simple time of not doubting myself and my abilities, someone to hold me close right now and assure me that everything’s going to be all right, fuck them, and we will go on.

Maybe that’s the toughest part of this recent – and past – struggles. No arms to hold me, no mouth to say those words then gently kiss me, make me feel safe and secure and comforted.

There is no comfort tonight. There may not be any to come for a very long time.

So I go on, because I don’t know what else to do.

New watercolor

Here's something I've been working on.

Enjoy.

And on the other hand

At a time when I should be celebrating the achievement of this latest endeavor, the creative quality of it and of my recent body of work is being challenged and called into question. Hard choices will be made in the morning. I just hope I am wrong.

Top 10 on Famecast.com!!!

"The Change-Up" has made it to the Top 10 on Famecast.com.

A huge congratulations to my writing team, Monica Hafer and David Smith, my cast, Peter Ross Stephens, Tricia Pierce, Kerr Seth Lordygan, and Erin Treanoer, and my incredible crew.

The next round of voting for the top 5 opens in six days, so look for some bugging from me 'round then.

In the meantime, thanks for your votes. You got us there, you can keep us there.

Luv. =)

Arms

All the affection from all of my friends cannot make up for the lack of a pair of arms belonging to a loved one to wrap me up and hold me and take the world from me for just a moment.

That’s what’s been pushing me into the depths recently, I think. I know I am loved. I know I have amazing friends in my life. I have this creative life I’ve always dreamed of. Yet there is a hollowness, an emptiness that no one can fill.

When I walked out of my old life, I knew I would miss things and be lonely and it would be hard.

But I didn’t think it would be this hard.

He has someone. Has had someone for some time. And had a few someones before her. He is happy, I guess. Happy after I took so much from him and I don’t begrudge him that. I left partly because I knew he was so unhappy and I could not find his happy for him. Or for me. He has the ordinary life he craved and that I could not provide. He has arms to hold him and care for him and take him in.

All the friends, all the joy, all the beauty cannot make up for the lack of those arms. As beautiful as my life is, as full as it is, there is a space around me that dies for those arms to wrap me up.

Cute Boy is fine for now but there is someone else to whom his arms belong. I have no right to intrude on that. I live for those moments of hello and good-bye when his strong arms wrap me up and give me, for one millisecond, the feeling of being loved, of being held by someone who loves me. Then his arms are gone and he is gone and his arms envelope the other woman in his life. I hope she knows what she has in those arms as they are quite lovely arms (sorry, watching “Notting Hill” and my prose has suddenly become English).

I had thought the OOMA would be the one to wrap me up but he has since left me as well, standing alone, looking at his shadow, wondering where he has gone. When I do see him on the rare occasion, his arms are cautious and distant, holding me off, keeping me away. I miss the warmth of his embrace, his eyes, his smile. But they are also on to some other muse, someone who is filling his thoughts for the moment, whoever that may be.

I crave that – the moment of intimacy that is there in a loving embrace. You can’t fake that. You cannot duplicate or copy or mimic the arms of one who loves you.

I have yet to find another pair. And at times like these, I am the saddest because I am afraid I will never feel that seductive, comforting, indescribable warmth again.

I guess whoever I am waiting for – whoever God is holding on to for me – must be someone terribly special, terribly perfect, to keep me waiting this long.

I just hope he has good arms.

Today

Frustrated.
Angry.
Disappointed.
Wounded.
Defensive.
Furious.
Despondent.
Isolated.
Hopeless.
Alone.
Exhausted.
Heartbroken.
Empty.
Pointless.