There’s a difference between giving in and giving up. Knowing when to do each is something that only life lessons can truly teach you. This year has been full of those such experiences.
My love affair with this city… it’s the story of true unconditional love.
It’s been a long but epic week. I’m waiting on a callback about a position I’d applied for. I’ll know later today. I wouldn’t be starting until Monday if I got it.
I didn’t make it down for the blogger meeting. I was sidetracked with an opportunity.
A friend of mine twittered about needing some help with casting for his webshow- Frenchmaidtv. Now if you haven’t seen this quirky and sexy little series, I really must insist that you go there and watch. When I first found it, I understood immediately why it was such a hit.
I came to California originally for the same things it seems everyone here comes for. Ah yes, I came out here for the entertainment industry- the mecca of of smoke and mirrors manufacturing. Sidetracked from that a few years… life has a weird way of bringing you back to your roots.
Two birds, one stone. I had the chance to help someone deserving and learn some lessons in the process.
Life is a series of windows. Not doors, windows. Because I believe sometimes it takes more effort than just walking in a door. Sometimes you stumble across an open window, take a glance, and have to find some way to climb though. Holy crap I sound like I break and enter now. ***I am not responsible for any breaking and entering cases caused by this blog***
I’m a rebel but not a jerk.
That said, when you are fortunate enough to stand on a platform and take a look into a new world (being this short, I need a stepstool to see in those high ones), you take it without hesitation.
My view of Hollywood had been tarnished. That day, it revitalized the zest I had all those years ago. I am forever thankful to Tim for letting me tag along. It was something I will never forget.
One love postponed to rediscover an old one.
Hollywood, the honest view from this inside outsider:
It is exactly as it looks from the outside. It’s shallow. It’s gritty. It bids emotion exist and remain non existent. Broken dreams. Made dreams. Hardened hearts for a reason. Tits or GTFO.
The 405 was a parking lot. I left later than expected. Not surprised, but there was no way I was going to make it home. There’s fashionably late and then there’s just damn late.
Another friend of mine called me:
How adventurous are you feeling tonight?
Pornstars. Kareokee. Only in LA. It was the perfect ending to a day chuck full of breasts, plastic, and hollywood. It’s amazing how real something that screams fake can be. Puns intended.
Like I said, they manufacture these moments in Hollywood though. It’s like a drug. One hit- and you’re hooked.
I haven’t been able to sleep much. I’m a workaholic. I have too many projects to work on. Not enough time. I’m pushing 36 hours in a 24 hour day.
There’s a difference between giving in and giving up. Knowing when to do each is something that only life lessons can truly teach you. This year has been full of those such experiences.
Those sentences echo in my mind. I am making peace within myself. Time to make the outside match the inside.
I wrote a message to try and push a restart button. I wanted no harm, no foul. Once upon a time, I’d like to believe we were friends. Perhaps we never were. Perhaps it was all just about the heat. So why was there so much passion?
“Behave yourself”
I didn’t need to hear that. Have I screwed up in the past? Yes indeed. I am human and admit that part of the reason it failed was because of me.
I rolled my eyes a bit at the statement and lol’ed.
Heading down to San Diego… another swimsuit. Gassed up in my bikini. Iced chai with whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Late leaving… but fashionably on time.
I changed on the drive down. Driving with just your breasts at 90mph is probably not something I’d reccomend doing. Scratch that. Hell it’s worth doing once. ***I am not responsible for the accidents occured by this blog***
The thing about being home is that even when things happen, they seem to have little to no effect on me. I didn’t cause any ruckus despite what happened. And as much as I’m sure he’d love for me to be “that bitch” and air all the laundry, I’m more mature than that. And frankly, I only partially care.
If you love something and you let it go and it comes back, it was yours. If not, then it never was.
You can tell your friends that I was a never was. You can spout assorted gossip about me. Get nasty. Do whatever. It’s your life. I don’t tell anyone how to run theirs.
The truth lies in that vast space of stars and time.
I’m not innocent. I’m not better. I’m just not pandering anymore to the manipulative bullshit.
I wish you all the best of luck in all that you do. I know that you have the power to be successful. I have faith in you despite it all.
I love you for the lessons you taught me. About life. About business. About how a relationship should and shouldn’t be. I always will.
Goodbye my “friend,” my “lover,” my Mr.-Never-Once-was Mr-Likely-Will… blank blank dot dot dot.
holding on for another weekend
I am an Enigma 