I have a very close friend named Dave. Dave was my theology professor in high school when I was 15. I've known him most of my life and fate as kept us in each other's lives over the years. When I went to college, Dave lived on campus as a resident minister during my sophomore and junior years. Then he moved to New York. When I moved to New York, he was one of the first phone calls I made. We just seemed to follow each other around. And since I've been back in LA, we see each other regularly because he has family here still.
Dave has always been an incredible influence on me. I consider him one of my spiritual mentors. We haven't spoken much in the past few months. I'm assuming busy lives have something to do with it. So we finally connected yesterday. It was a short phone call, but I could hear a heaviness in Dave's voice. Usually, I launch into what's been going on with me and he says really smart stuff and I feel better about my life. This call was different. We chatted about how busy he had been and he apologized for not getting in touch sooner.
Oh, I suppose it's here that I should add that Dave's a priest. Dave was saying that it was hard for him to get his academic work done because his priestly duties kept getting in the way. Dave's a college professor and a scholar. He writes articles for scholarly journals all of the time. He was telling me that he spent the afternoon sending out Christmas cards to parishioners and writing a homily when he should be finishing an article for publication. He seemed to be in a crossroads about what his life should look like. I understand the feeling. So I asked him how old he was. Because I seem to remember that he might be close to 60. He's 58. And that's when I kind of got it. I'm about to be 40 in about six or seven weeks. And the past two years have been a serious period of contemplation and growth. It's a revaluation time. Also, 60 is the age when you enter your third act. So there's a lot of work that happens before then.
He said he was thinking about the mistakes he had made in his life. I told him that I couldn't even begin to understand what that period in life is like. But I did understand what it was like to look back at a period of time and think about regrets. I think my thirties were full of wrong decisions. I told him that. It was a decade of trial and error. Most people might agree that the thirties are designated for that exact purpose. I didn't quite realize how true that was. But I told Dave that having gone through such a major period of transition, I now understand how that has prepared me for what feels like a fruitful time in my life.
People say that it all goes in a blink of an eye. And I frankly don't look 40 and I can't believe that I'm about to turn 40. But I'm sure as hell going to milk the next 20 years of my life. They're supposed to be good, according to most people. I feel like a true adult in a lot of ways. My Dad died and I"m about to hit this milestone. Dave's also contemplating his age. He also looks young and he's incredibly vital. But I imagine that 60 feels closer to death than he felt before. It's one of the first ages where you feel like it could happen soon. My Dad only had 9 years left after the big 60th birthday party that we through him. In the Chinese tradition, 60 is when you become an elder. Or at least that's when you're celebrated as such because that's when you start getting the big birthday celebrations thrown by your kids. So I can understand how Dave's starting to confront his own mortality and what that means for the rest of his life.
Dave always has said to me that he feels like being a priest might only be a chapter in the book of his life. But I could feel that his feeling seems to be taking on a deeper resonance. He also said something that has stuck with me since he said it. "The metaphysical no longer holds the same value it used to." I had to ask him to repeat that. Because that has an incredible implication since he's a priest. Dave has been studying Buddhist teachings for a long time. I think that he's on more of an epic spiritual journey than most men of the cloth. I'm sure I have some Christian friends who would consider that statement blasphemy or might not understand the breadth of that statement. But that's deep. He said that he still believes in God and love for others, but the rest is up for grabs.
Up for grabs. Wow. And that made me think of my Dad. I think my Dad felt the same way. Maybe it was the Buddhist teachings that ran through his veins. My Dad didn't subscribe to organized religion. He didn't buy into it. It felt too inauthentic to him. I loved that about him. He didn't use belief as a crutch or as a reason to judge. He wore his opinions about someone on his shirt, plain as day. So when Dave said to me that the rest is up for grabs, I understood that as a spiritual concept. Not as evidence that he had lost his way. Actually, it felt like it was to the contrary. I felt like he was really on a path and is moving on to the next plane.
This was the first conversation I remember having with him where I felt like we talked about him for the most part in a way that wasn't just trying to balance out the conversation. This conversation was about him. And I'm glad we've made that transition. In a way it does feel like the teacher has become the student. And it's about time. I've learned so much from him my entire life, that I'm glad that my age and wisdom can finally be of some use. But I guess I needed to get there.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Friday, December 21, 2012
What I Wrote This Year
Productivity is really important to me. It's the thing that keeps me hanging on. It gives me a purpose and a reason for living.
Even though my Dad died this year and I no one would fault me for curling up in a ball and napping from July 23-Dec 31st, I couldn't do that. I remember about four weeks after he died, I felt like such a schmo for not feeling motivated to work. Even though I knew I needed to slow down and just be, I felt like I should be doing something. A good friend of mine, a TV exec, said to me, "Listen. You just need to take care of yourself right now. When you're ready to work again, there will be tons of people ready to help you." I knew she was right, but I just felt lazy. Like somehow just being and mourning my Dad made me lazy. Well...he probably would have said that.
While my Dad was sick, work kept me motivated. I remember the week he went into the hospital for the first time, I was doing a workshop of a new play of mine. It was great to have something else to focus on. Then I was teaching in the Fall of 2011. Once the holidays passed, I started working on a new play in February. That lasted through May and then I started on a spec script of GLEE to try and get into some writers programs. I was getting ready to start on something new, something I had an idea for. I had even outlined it. Then he died.
So after about the six week point, I was ready to start again. And I started writing a few drafts of a one hour show I was really passionate about writing about women in the later stages of their lives. I knew I was invested in the subject matter, but I didn't have the show. This was reminding me of a soap set in the art world that I wrote six drafts of and had to put away because it just didn't go anywhere. I was stuck. Then a friend told me to write about something that would be really easy for me to finish in a short amount of time. I had an idea to write about my relationship with The Drummer. I had an idea and I finished that in about two weeks. It was a shitty pilot. But it got some things loose.
I was driving on the 5 and I started thinking about the next great idea. That included the following thought:
"What's the next great idea? "
Really. That's all I thought. I remember a professor years ago suggesting a writing exercise. Whenever you can't think of something to write, just start writing:
"I can't think of what to write. I'm trying to think of something brilliant, but nothing's coming to me. I'm an idiot. Maybe all of my good ideas are behind me at 23 years old. Maybe I'll never do this. My father probably thinks I spend all day jacking off and playing with my asshole. That's true. But I don't want him to think that."
Then the idea pops out! It's just through the sheer act of hitting the keys or thinking about the problem that the solution appears. And that's kind of what happened. It's an idea that is about a subject I know a ton about. It's a family drama. It's a one hour show. It deals with my specific cultural background in a way that I have been trying to write. It's a soap, which is something I've been trying to crack. My problem is that I didn't have the write milieu. I needed a setting. And I found one that felt soap like: big and rich and family drama filled.
Then I went home and started on some ideas. I had a title. The characters came to me pretty easily. This is always a good sign for me.
Then my best friend and I started talking about some ideas for a pilot in case the show she's working on didn't get picked up for a second season (which it just did, coincidentally). But it's an idea we both like and would be willing to go out and pitch.
Then life got busy again. I had family stuff to deal with. And during that time, I finally figured out what the other show should be. It should be a half hour cable show. And I outlined that. Plus, a director and I started planning a mini workshop of the play I wrote this year, scheduled for January.
I got together with my friend Larry and we had a writing session. I wrote the teaser for the one hour. Six pages. Then we went to coffee. Then I went home and wrote the first act. Twenty three pages. I was ready to write more. But then...
A theatre emailed about doing a showcase reading of one of my plays. Then another theatre in LA wanted to see what I had to work on, so they could do a development process. So I decided to give them the same play, so I could work on this play that I've loved for the past year. It's the same play that I was working on when my Dad first went into the hospital. So I had to do rewrites and talk with people about the play.
Finally, I was ready to sit down and finish the rest of this pilot. Larry and I met this past Monday. I wrote Act Two. Then I had therapy on Tuesday and was exhausted for two days. Then I wrote yesterday. Went back to the Weho library, which has been my makeshift office, and wrote the first two scenes of Act Three. I got hungry. Then I went home and ate. Then I went to my friend Susan's house, which I was watching while she was away. No TV. No internet. I wrote the rest of Act Three. Then Act Four. Then I was tired. I came home. It was late. I didn't want to go to sleep before I finished. I wrote Act Five. Thirty four pages for the day. Thank God! It's way too long at 71 pages, but I have something.
Now I'm going to just see a movie: This is 40. And think about reworking the pilot about me and the Drummer. Then I have all of next week to work on the new pilot, while I'm letting this one sit and marinate in my head.
So here's the tally for the year:
New play: Six drafts
Spec of GLEE: Two drafts.
Crappy Pilot (one hour): Three drafts.
Rewrites of Play: Two drafts.
Crappy Pilot (half hour): One draft.
Bloated Pilot: One draft.
Re-draft of crappy pilot (from one hour to half hour): hopefully by the end of 2012.
And...
108 blog posts.
Not bad. I'm hoping to have these two fresh pilots ready to go by February. In February, I start the play writing process all over again and start on a play that will eventually be turned into a musical.
After that, I don't know if I have any ideas. Well, except for the show I was trying to turn into a musical, which actually might be a pretty good soap set in the late 70s...hmmm.
Even though my Dad died this year and I no one would fault me for curling up in a ball and napping from July 23-Dec 31st, I couldn't do that. I remember about four weeks after he died, I felt like such a schmo for not feeling motivated to work. Even though I knew I needed to slow down and just be, I felt like I should be doing something. A good friend of mine, a TV exec, said to me, "Listen. You just need to take care of yourself right now. When you're ready to work again, there will be tons of people ready to help you." I knew she was right, but I just felt lazy. Like somehow just being and mourning my Dad made me lazy. Well...he probably would have said that.
While my Dad was sick, work kept me motivated. I remember the week he went into the hospital for the first time, I was doing a workshop of a new play of mine. It was great to have something else to focus on. Then I was teaching in the Fall of 2011. Once the holidays passed, I started working on a new play in February. That lasted through May and then I started on a spec script of GLEE to try and get into some writers programs. I was getting ready to start on something new, something I had an idea for. I had even outlined it. Then he died.
So after about the six week point, I was ready to start again. And I started writing a few drafts of a one hour show I was really passionate about writing about women in the later stages of their lives. I knew I was invested in the subject matter, but I didn't have the show. This was reminding me of a soap set in the art world that I wrote six drafts of and had to put away because it just didn't go anywhere. I was stuck. Then a friend told me to write about something that would be really easy for me to finish in a short amount of time. I had an idea to write about my relationship with The Drummer. I had an idea and I finished that in about two weeks. It was a shitty pilot. But it got some things loose.
I was driving on the 5 and I started thinking about the next great idea. That included the following thought:
"What's the next great idea? "
Really. That's all I thought. I remember a professor years ago suggesting a writing exercise. Whenever you can't think of something to write, just start writing:
"I can't think of what to write. I'm trying to think of something brilliant, but nothing's coming to me. I'm an idiot. Maybe all of my good ideas are behind me at 23 years old. Maybe I'll never do this. My father probably thinks I spend all day jacking off and playing with my asshole. That's true. But I don't want him to think that."
Then the idea pops out! It's just through the sheer act of hitting the keys or thinking about the problem that the solution appears. And that's kind of what happened. It's an idea that is about a subject I know a ton about. It's a family drama. It's a one hour show. It deals with my specific cultural background in a way that I have been trying to write. It's a soap, which is something I've been trying to crack. My problem is that I didn't have the write milieu. I needed a setting. And I found one that felt soap like: big and rich and family drama filled.
Then I went home and started on some ideas. I had a title. The characters came to me pretty easily. This is always a good sign for me.
Then my best friend and I started talking about some ideas for a pilot in case the show she's working on didn't get picked up for a second season (which it just did, coincidentally). But it's an idea we both like and would be willing to go out and pitch.
Then life got busy again. I had family stuff to deal with. And during that time, I finally figured out what the other show should be. It should be a half hour cable show. And I outlined that. Plus, a director and I started planning a mini workshop of the play I wrote this year, scheduled for January.
I got together with my friend Larry and we had a writing session. I wrote the teaser for the one hour. Six pages. Then we went to coffee. Then I went home and wrote the first act. Twenty three pages. I was ready to write more. But then...
A theatre emailed about doing a showcase reading of one of my plays. Then another theatre in LA wanted to see what I had to work on, so they could do a development process. So I decided to give them the same play, so I could work on this play that I've loved for the past year. It's the same play that I was working on when my Dad first went into the hospital. So I had to do rewrites and talk with people about the play.
Finally, I was ready to sit down and finish the rest of this pilot. Larry and I met this past Monday. I wrote Act Two. Then I had therapy on Tuesday and was exhausted for two days. Then I wrote yesterday. Went back to the Weho library, which has been my makeshift office, and wrote the first two scenes of Act Three. I got hungry. Then I went home and ate. Then I went to my friend Susan's house, which I was watching while she was away. No TV. No internet. I wrote the rest of Act Three. Then Act Four. Then I was tired. I came home. It was late. I didn't want to go to sleep before I finished. I wrote Act Five. Thirty four pages for the day. Thank God! It's way too long at 71 pages, but I have something.
Now I'm going to just see a movie: This is 40. And think about reworking the pilot about me and the Drummer. Then I have all of next week to work on the new pilot, while I'm letting this one sit and marinate in my head.
So here's the tally for the year:
New play: Six drafts
Spec of GLEE: Two drafts.
Crappy Pilot (one hour): Three drafts.
Rewrites of Play: Two drafts.
Crappy Pilot (half hour): One draft.
Bloated Pilot: One draft.
Re-draft of crappy pilot (from one hour to half hour): hopefully by the end of 2012.
And...
108 blog posts.
Not bad. I'm hoping to have these two fresh pilots ready to go by February. In February, I start the play writing process all over again and start on a play that will eventually be turned into a musical.
After that, I don't know if I have any ideas. Well, except for the show I was trying to turn into a musical, which actually might be a pretty good soap set in the late 70s...hmmm.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Life Goes On
As the Christmas holidays approach, I am struck by an overwhelming feeling. My Dad is no longer on this Earth. When he was present on Earth, we didn't really get along. I wanted him to put his arms around me. He wanted to teach me to be a man in the way that he knew how to teach me to be a man. And that was to yell at me and scold me and push me hard.
In most ways he succeeded. I am tough. I am strong. I am smart. I have exceeded my own expectations and certainly his. I think that because I have always been intuitive, I have held myself back. I knew that my father wanted me to succeed, but I didn't want to shame him by besting him. I felt he still needed to feel like the man in the family. And that feeling of not wanting to best powerful men in my life, continued with my ex-boyfriend and one former boss. I was attracted to power and strength. I felt that I could also be strong by osmosis and by proximity. But I did not allow myself to truly understand that I could be strong by my own strength, my own name and my own person.
I felt blocked as a human being because my true destiny is not to stand behind any body. But I was fearful of what it would do to those around me who needed me to make them feel important.
Then I left my relationship. I left my old job. And my father was sick. I spent a year preparing for him to leave. And then he left.
And now I feel like he has given me something that has made me feel proper about standing in the forefront of my life. I don't know if it is permission. I don't know if it's energy. I don't know if it's his strength that he himself was sometimes afraid to express. But I feel him with me. I feel that this assertiveness that I'm feeling is his spirit in me. I have no one to stand in front of me. I have no one left to hide behind. It is just me and for the first time in my life, I am letting the light of the Sun shine fully on every surface of my skin. I am standing there solidly. And I am not backing down. I am living. I am living for myself and for what I want to do. Like never before. Here I stand and here I come to claim what I will present to myself, what I will be and what I will do with every last drop of my talent.
Dad's life has been passed on to me. That is the greatest inheritance. The power of the things that he didn't get to do that I get to do. I truly understand now that it is all available.
Today I had a meeting with the literary manager from a theatre that I've been wanting to work at. He had read my play. We talked about my play that I am so proud of. My child. At the end of our very enlightening discussion of my play, he thanked me for being a good writer. There is no better complement. I didn't just feel it as him thanking me for writing this play. I felt it deeper. Thank you for existing to write this play. Thank you for living. Thank you for your presence. I know that sounds self-congratulatory. But I'm at a place where I am finally able to congratulate myself for creating life, the act of creative procreation.
I can finally take it in. Another theatre in DC did a reading of part of the same play. And the way that actors and the director and the dramaturg were talking about this play. I finally was able to take in all of what they are experiencing with my work. It affects them. I can finally value that value of my work. I don't blow it off anymore.
There's a saying that you tell people the way you want to be treated. I have done that my whole life, but for most of it I have sent the wrong message. Through my own lack of appreciation for my talent, I have told people to underappreciate me. Now I will show people the way I want to be treated because I finally respect myself.
In most ways he succeeded. I am tough. I am strong. I am smart. I have exceeded my own expectations and certainly his. I think that because I have always been intuitive, I have held myself back. I knew that my father wanted me to succeed, but I didn't want to shame him by besting him. I felt he still needed to feel like the man in the family. And that feeling of not wanting to best powerful men in my life, continued with my ex-boyfriend and one former boss. I was attracted to power and strength. I felt that I could also be strong by osmosis and by proximity. But I did not allow myself to truly understand that I could be strong by my own strength, my own name and my own person.
I felt blocked as a human being because my true destiny is not to stand behind any body. But I was fearful of what it would do to those around me who needed me to make them feel important.
Then I left my relationship. I left my old job. And my father was sick. I spent a year preparing for him to leave. And then he left.
And now I feel like he has given me something that has made me feel proper about standing in the forefront of my life. I don't know if it is permission. I don't know if it's energy. I don't know if it's his strength that he himself was sometimes afraid to express. But I feel him with me. I feel that this assertiveness that I'm feeling is his spirit in me. I have no one to stand in front of me. I have no one left to hide behind. It is just me and for the first time in my life, I am letting the light of the Sun shine fully on every surface of my skin. I am standing there solidly. And I am not backing down. I am living. I am living for myself and for what I want to do. Like never before. Here I stand and here I come to claim what I will present to myself, what I will be and what I will do with every last drop of my talent.
Dad's life has been passed on to me. That is the greatest inheritance. The power of the things that he didn't get to do that I get to do. I truly understand now that it is all available.
Today I had a meeting with the literary manager from a theatre that I've been wanting to work at. He had read my play. We talked about my play that I am so proud of. My child. At the end of our very enlightening discussion of my play, he thanked me for being a good writer. There is no better complement. I didn't just feel it as him thanking me for writing this play. I felt it deeper. Thank you for existing to write this play. Thank you for living. Thank you for your presence. I know that sounds self-congratulatory. But I'm at a place where I am finally able to congratulate myself for creating life, the act of creative procreation.
I can finally take it in. Another theatre in DC did a reading of part of the same play. And the way that actors and the director and the dramaturg were talking about this play. I finally was able to take in all of what they are experiencing with my work. It affects them. I can finally value that value of my work. I don't blow it off anymore.
There's a saying that you tell people the way you want to be treated. I have done that my whole life, but for most of it I have sent the wrong message. Through my own lack of appreciation for my talent, I have told people to underappreciate me. Now I will show people the way I want to be treated because I finally respect myself.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
What Not To Do
My life is being affected by now by examples of what I don't want. I've spent a lot of time in my life dealing with situations that are not right for me and I'm trying to exorcise those influences. But what I am also trying to focus on is the lesson. It's not about the crappy shit you're in, but what you can learn from it.
The Drummer and I have a house guest. This guy is in his mid-fifties and a musician. But he's not industrious like The Drummer. He's a guy who has a lot of ideas and things he wants to do, but no means of making them happen. I clearly have plenty of judgment around this. I think some of that judgment comes from my own fear of becoming like that. Yes, I have more in my background that has prepared me for the road ahead and I'm a hard worker. But there's still that pit at the base of my stomach. But that pit pushes me, it doesn't immobilize me. So the lesson there seems to be that I need to keep pushing so that I don't let any of my momentum stop.
The same feeling of discomfort comes from some work I'm doing for a friend of mine who has made a living doing a bunch of freelance jobs. She's a writer like myself. And a really talented one. To make ends meet and to avoid a 9 to 5 job, she does a bunch of things: she ghost writes books, she writes copy for magazines and websites--she basically uses her writing skills to pay the bills. But what she hasn't been able to do as much in recent years is write for herself. She very lovingly passed on some work to me. I'm kind of doing some ghost writing for her because she's got more work than she can take on right now and instead of let some of those jobs go, she's asked me to help her out. And I realized that I really hate it. It's some money coming in. But I also realized that she is putting out a lot more effort than she's getting paid for. It's not working smart. This is another lesson: work hard, but work smart. If I don't want to find myself in a place where I'm not doing the kind of writing I'd like to be doing, I need to keep focused. It's not that it's not noble or necessary to bring home the bacon. It is. She has to work. She's got a family to help support.
The greater lesson is to be conscious of the life you want to create and to never let up on it. Our house guest is a person who has just gone by without a plan and letting things happen to him. Now he has to couch surf and rely on the good will of others. At this point, the good will is running out. Even The Drummer, who is patient beyond belief, has lost patience. You can't just let things happen without having a hand in making things happen. And with my friend, she has made choices for her personal life which affect the work choices she makes. She's got less flexibility because she's got a family. That's not true for everyone, but it has been true for her.
I don't want to be working for people for the rest of my life. I have to create the work for myself and I want people to work for me. That's why writing my own stuff is so important. I do feel a bit of a time clock--for the unemployment to run out. I have been able to survive on what I'm bringing in, but that's not going to be true forever. So I have to make sure that I stick on the plan and that I'm as hard working as I like to think I am. I have to keep going. It is not just about talking about working or all of these wonderful things I want to do. It's the doing.
And right now what I'm involved in: the plays I'm writing and working on theatres with, the pilots I'm writing, the contacts I'm making, the relationships I'm maintaining--all of that is working in the direction of making sure that in as short a time as possible, I'm running my own shows and that I'm also lecturing and teaching. I want all of those things to be a part of my life. And I am doing all of those things, as my therapist would say. Even though I'm not getting paid (or paid much), I am doing those things. I am saying to the universe, this is what I want to be doing.
People know me as a writer.
People know me as a teacher.
People see me as an expert in my field.
I look qualified.
I look authoritative.
And that's because I write, I teach, I give expertise, I am qualified and I have authority in the things I write and teach and talk about.
That is what I want to do. And the things I don't want to do are being shown to me, like a movie screen, because it keeps me focused on what it is that I want to do. Exactly. Because I constantly am reminding myself of what the Prize is so I can keep my Eye on it.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
The Juggler
I've got a lot of balls in the air right now. I'm fine with that.
I have a friend who is always busy. "I'm so busy," she always says. And it winds her up. It also puffs her chest because if she's "busy" then everything seems important. It seems to justify her choices. I've never quite taken that approach. It feels good to have things to do. But I keep most of that stress to myself. And I'm doing things I love so it feels less like work.
For my friend, it all feels like work because it's not directed to her passion. She's doing work for very good reasons. But it has created this sort of self-fulfilling prophecy of always working, but never being fed. Listen, this is someone I adore and respect. But it's not where I want to be.
I'm going to Santa Clara to do a lecture next year in February. I'm also doing one in January about finding representation. But the one in February is about, "What do I want to Do?" We're calling it our pie in the sky lecture. The idea is that if there was no limit, what would you want to do. The funny thing that I've discovered, because I did a mini unplanned version of that lecture last year, is that it's hard for these kids to come up with those big ideas. Because of fear. But it's important to ask for what you want.
I'm living a life right now that doesn't have a lot of financial reward. But it's the life I want to be living. I'm with a great guy. We have fun together. We make it work. I'm writing every day. I am able to keep an eye on my Mom and be around her. I travel a bit. I'm connected to my students at Santa Clara through guest lectures. I'm working on plays. I'm working on a pilot. I have made choices to do or not do things based on where I want my life to be.
I don't want to be a parent (right now or ever) because I know that if I'm a parent my priorities change. I have to make choices for that person. I'll be all in. I only want to make choices for myself.
So I don't feel burdened by how busy I am. I'm not tortured. I'm not stressed. I'm not freaking out on other people. I'm just busy. And I just put one foot in front of the other. That's the way I have to do it. And I have a lot to keep my busy and excited and interested. There's a lot of variety in my life right now and that's the way I like it.
I have a friend who is always busy. "I'm so busy," she always says. And it winds her up. It also puffs her chest because if she's "busy" then everything seems important. It seems to justify her choices. I've never quite taken that approach. It feels good to have things to do. But I keep most of that stress to myself. And I'm doing things I love so it feels less like work.
For my friend, it all feels like work because it's not directed to her passion. She's doing work for very good reasons. But it has created this sort of self-fulfilling prophecy of always working, but never being fed. Listen, this is someone I adore and respect. But it's not where I want to be.
I'm going to Santa Clara to do a lecture next year in February. I'm also doing one in January about finding representation. But the one in February is about, "What do I want to Do?" We're calling it our pie in the sky lecture. The idea is that if there was no limit, what would you want to do. The funny thing that I've discovered, because I did a mini unplanned version of that lecture last year, is that it's hard for these kids to come up with those big ideas. Because of fear. But it's important to ask for what you want.
I'm living a life right now that doesn't have a lot of financial reward. But it's the life I want to be living. I'm with a great guy. We have fun together. We make it work. I'm writing every day. I am able to keep an eye on my Mom and be around her. I travel a bit. I'm connected to my students at Santa Clara through guest lectures. I'm working on plays. I'm working on a pilot. I have made choices to do or not do things based on where I want my life to be.
I don't want to be a parent (right now or ever) because I know that if I'm a parent my priorities change. I have to make choices for that person. I'll be all in. I only want to make choices for myself.
So I don't feel burdened by how busy I am. I'm not tortured. I'm not stressed. I'm not freaking out on other people. I'm just busy. And I just put one foot in front of the other. That's the way I have to do it. And I have a lot to keep my busy and excited and interested. There's a lot of variety in my life right now and that's the way I like it.
The Things I Talk About Now
Theatre.
My plays.
Books.
Actors.
Characters.
Story.
Career.
Passion.
Music.
Love.
Ideas.
These are the things I talk about now. It goes back to something my therapist said last week. "You are gainfully employed." I was focusing on having to make some money. To get back on the hamster wheel, as it were.
Two years ago I talked about:
My boss' schedule.
Agents.
Managers.
Executives.
Lunches.
Drinks.
Scheduling.
My boyfriend (at the time).
Parties.
Dinners.
I was empty. Even though our lives seemed full on the outside. We had a lot of things to fill our lives, but our lives were empty. And I was living someone else's life, so I was filling my emptiness with even more emptiness and I was never satisfied.
Then all of these changes happened and I broke free of all of that. Then my Dad got sick last year and all I would talk about was:
Hospitals.
Pills.
Doctors.
Solutions.
Food.
Diet.
Death.
Mom.
Dad.
Then my Dad died and that part of my life was over. During the past four and a half months, I have slowly come back to myself and to a rhythm of life that truly seems my own. After the break up, I was going through transition. Then I switched jobs. Then I had that job to focus on and making my bosses happy. I was still talking to agents and managers and other people's ideas. Then that job ended. And I had exactly two days of nothingness. Then my Dad went into the hospital and the next year of my life was primarily focused in a different direction. Then in July that period ended.
It's funny because I've got a lot I'm working on now. It's great to be occupied. But about a month after Dad died, I felt totally empty inside. I felt like I didn't have anything that was motivating me to write the things I knew I wanted to. One thing I don't have is patience. Because that lasted maybe another month and now I'm writing my tail off. I did a lot of writing this year. And we always focus on the end result. What do I have to show for it? Well, I had a lot of things happen to me. And I sat down to write more than I ever had. So that should make me feel happy and accomplished. The end result will come. The depth and quality of the things I'm writing about is deeper than ever. When I sit down to write, I write with a groundedness.
Everyone told me that after I taught I would be a better writer. Again, no patience. I thought that would happen right away. My last day of teaching was on December 1st of last year. I fully expected by December 2nd that I would be a genius. It has taken a full year. It has taken death. It has taken change. It has taken so much to make my writing better. And now I'm not afraid of it. I'm not afraid of being changed. Or being moved around. Of taking a 180. Life has made so many loops in the past two years that I'm used to the feeling in the pit of my stomach from being turned upside down. I am great with it. I love it. It's now what I thrive on.
I used to thrive on standing on solid ground at any cost. At the cost of risk. Now I'm okay with being turned upside down and I just keep going.
But I look at those three lists of the things that I talk about now and I am so grateful for all of it. I am a better writer now. But it's not because any of it has been easy.
My plays.
Books.
Actors.
Characters.
Story.
Career.
Passion.
Music.
Love.
Ideas.
These are the things I talk about now. It goes back to something my therapist said last week. "You are gainfully employed." I was focusing on having to make some money. To get back on the hamster wheel, as it were.
Two years ago I talked about:
My boss' schedule.
Agents.
Managers.
Executives.
Lunches.
Drinks.
Scheduling.
My boyfriend (at the time).
Parties.
Dinners.
I was empty. Even though our lives seemed full on the outside. We had a lot of things to fill our lives, but our lives were empty. And I was living someone else's life, so I was filling my emptiness with even more emptiness and I was never satisfied.
Then all of these changes happened and I broke free of all of that. Then my Dad got sick last year and all I would talk about was:
Hospitals.
Pills.
Doctors.
Solutions.
Food.
Diet.
Death.
Mom.
Dad.
Then my Dad died and that part of my life was over. During the past four and a half months, I have slowly come back to myself and to a rhythm of life that truly seems my own. After the break up, I was going through transition. Then I switched jobs. Then I had that job to focus on and making my bosses happy. I was still talking to agents and managers and other people's ideas. Then that job ended. And I had exactly two days of nothingness. Then my Dad went into the hospital and the next year of my life was primarily focused in a different direction. Then in July that period ended.
It's funny because I've got a lot I'm working on now. It's great to be occupied. But about a month after Dad died, I felt totally empty inside. I felt like I didn't have anything that was motivating me to write the things I knew I wanted to. One thing I don't have is patience. Because that lasted maybe another month and now I'm writing my tail off. I did a lot of writing this year. And we always focus on the end result. What do I have to show for it? Well, I had a lot of things happen to me. And I sat down to write more than I ever had. So that should make me feel happy and accomplished. The end result will come. The depth and quality of the things I'm writing about is deeper than ever. When I sit down to write, I write with a groundedness.
Everyone told me that after I taught I would be a better writer. Again, no patience. I thought that would happen right away. My last day of teaching was on December 1st of last year. I fully expected by December 2nd that I would be a genius. It has taken a full year. It has taken death. It has taken change. It has taken so much to make my writing better. And now I'm not afraid of it. I'm not afraid of being changed. Or being moved around. Of taking a 180. Life has made so many loops in the past two years that I'm used to the feeling in the pit of my stomach from being turned upside down. I am great with it. I love it. It's now what I thrive on.
I used to thrive on standing on solid ground at any cost. At the cost of risk. Now I'm okay with being turned upside down and I just keep going.
But I look at those three lists of the things that I talk about now and I am so grateful for all of it. I am a better writer now. But it's not because any of it has been easy.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Hitting Reset
There's a lot going on right now.
I'm supposed to be rewriting a play that I'm having a partial reading of in Washington DC next weekend. But of course I'm getting wrapped up in the research and it being totally amazing.
I have a workshop that I'm doing in January of another play that I wrote this year.
January's going to be really busy actually.
I have the workshop, then I go to Portland to celebrate my Mom and my nephew's birthdays. Then I'll see friends for a few days.
Then off to Santa Clara to guest lecture on agents and managers.
Then back there in February to do a special guest lecture on life after college.
Then Hawaii in March for 10-14 days.
I was talking to The Drummer about that trip. We're trying to figure out how long we're staying. My Mom can only be there a week. My Brother and his family are going to stay an extra week. I'm not working right now, so I'm feeling extra nervous about money. I'm freelancing a bit. I'm waiting on my unemployment extension to come through. Money issues always weight heavy on me. I have some money from my Dad that I inherited, but I felt that it'd be wasteful to depend on that, even for a little while.
Then my boyfriend said something supportive. He said, "That's what it's there for." And this isn't a guy who is frivolous. He's a guy who has worked for everything. He's very frugal. But he said to me that maybe this is a reset. Maybe I need this Hawaii trip to set me up for what the rest of my life is going to be about. Maybe it will give me some rest and some enjoyment with my family so I am ready to tackle what comes next.
I just listened. In that moment I was so happy that he is my man. I told him that too. I said that's what I love about him. He's so supportive and open and truthful and wise. I'm going to listen to him. Against my usual judgment. Against all of the things I was taught as a kid. Despite the noise that tells me that I'm being lazy and that I need to get right to work.
I realized in that moment that my weirdness and embarrassment at not working has a lot to do with my own self criticism. That I take things that my boyfriend and other people say and I add a lot of judgment to it. Because...because of a lot of things: Dad, life, how hard I am on myself. I make myself suffer more than I need to. Because that's what I was taught.
Just when I thought I had exhausted the amount of LETTING GO I need to do. There's more.
I'm supposed to be rewriting a play that I'm having a partial reading of in Washington DC next weekend. But of course I'm getting wrapped up in the research and it being totally amazing.
I have a workshop that I'm doing in January of another play that I wrote this year.
January's going to be really busy actually.
I have the workshop, then I go to Portland to celebrate my Mom and my nephew's birthdays. Then I'll see friends for a few days.
Then off to Santa Clara to guest lecture on agents and managers.
Then back there in February to do a special guest lecture on life after college.
Then Hawaii in March for 10-14 days.
I was talking to The Drummer about that trip. We're trying to figure out how long we're staying. My Mom can only be there a week. My Brother and his family are going to stay an extra week. I'm not working right now, so I'm feeling extra nervous about money. I'm freelancing a bit. I'm waiting on my unemployment extension to come through. Money issues always weight heavy on me. I have some money from my Dad that I inherited, but I felt that it'd be wasteful to depend on that, even for a little while.
Then my boyfriend said something supportive. He said, "That's what it's there for." And this isn't a guy who is frivolous. He's a guy who has worked for everything. He's very frugal. But he said to me that maybe this is a reset. Maybe I need this Hawaii trip to set me up for what the rest of my life is going to be about. Maybe it will give me some rest and some enjoyment with my family so I am ready to tackle what comes next.
I just listened. In that moment I was so happy that he is my man. I told him that too. I said that's what I love about him. He's so supportive and open and truthful and wise. I'm going to listen to him. Against my usual judgment. Against all of the things I was taught as a kid. Despite the noise that tells me that I'm being lazy and that I need to get right to work.
I realized in that moment that my weirdness and embarrassment at not working has a lot to do with my own self criticism. That I take things that my boyfriend and other people say and I add a lot of judgment to it. Because...because of a lot of things: Dad, life, how hard I am on myself. I make myself suffer more than I need to. Because that's what I was taught.
Just when I thought I had exhausted the amount of LETTING GO I need to do. There's more.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
You're Living the Life You Want
That's what my therapist said today during our session.
He also said: "So what do you want? A few extra dollars to by a few extra things? A bigger car?"
To which I replied: "Yeah...?"
He told me that I already have everything I need. Am I living the life I want to? Am I making the choices I want to?
"You don't sound unemployed," he said.
"I don't feel unemployed. I'm busy. I've got a lot going on. I'm productive."
"It sounds good."
It took me a second to think about that. I nodded. "Yeah, it does." How about that?
I countered. "I still have student loans."
He waved me off. "You'll get that taken care of."
Wait. All of my anxiety, all of my worry, all of my self-judgment...gone with the wave of a hand? Is it that easy. My therapist would say that it is that easy.
"You've got it."
And it's funny. I do. I have been calling this life I've been leading a template for the life I want to live. But I'm in it. Yes, I could use a bigger car and a nicer place to live and some extra ducets. And I will get those, but only by living the life I want to be living. I don't have a job I hate that I've been in for too long or a relationship I feel trapped by that I've been in for too long. I'm living the life I want.
Bears repeating: I'm living the life I want. Period. No "but." I have a man I love who respects me, who gives me good lovin', who is kind, smart, delicious, fun, passionate and talented. I'm writing plays constantly. I have work that keeps me engaged and excited. I have family and a personal life.
So all I have to do is keep going. It's only as hard as I choose it to be.
I like the sound of that.
He also said: "So what do you want? A few extra dollars to by a few extra things? A bigger car?"
To which I replied: "Yeah...?"
He told me that I already have everything I need. Am I living the life I want to? Am I making the choices I want to?
"You don't sound unemployed," he said.
"I don't feel unemployed. I'm busy. I've got a lot going on. I'm productive."
"It sounds good."
It took me a second to think about that. I nodded. "Yeah, it does." How about that?
I countered. "I still have student loans."
He waved me off. "You'll get that taken care of."
Wait. All of my anxiety, all of my worry, all of my self-judgment...gone with the wave of a hand? Is it that easy. My therapist would say that it is that easy.
"You've got it."
And it's funny. I do. I have been calling this life I've been leading a template for the life I want to live. But I'm in it. Yes, I could use a bigger car and a nicer place to live and some extra ducets. And I will get those, but only by living the life I want to be living. I don't have a job I hate that I've been in for too long or a relationship I feel trapped by that I've been in for too long. I'm living the life I want.
Bears repeating: I'm living the life I want. Period. No "but." I have a man I love who respects me, who gives me good lovin', who is kind, smart, delicious, fun, passionate and talented. I'm writing plays constantly. I have work that keeps me engaged and excited. I have family and a personal life.
So all I have to do is keep going. It's only as hard as I choose it to be.
I like the sound of that.
A Direction, Not The Direction
Just as much as I'm practicing the principles of LETTING GO and SAYING YES, encompassed with that is the principle of SURRENDERING. I have always had an idea of the direction I want to go in and have pursued that with energy and vision. That has served me well, but what I'm trying to practice now is surrender. Oprah Winfrey says, "When you've done everything you possibly can, just surrender it to the Universe."
I'm looking at my calendar and it's indicating a certain direction. It may not be the direction, but it's a direction.
Today I have a conference call about a play that's being read in DC next month. We're going to discuss what I want from the reading and what's still troubling me about the play. Thursday, I have another discussion with a local theatre company about the same play to discuss what the play is about and what I'm trying to achieve. Then on Saturday, my writers group is getting together and I'm supposed to be presenting new pages.
Next week I have dinner with a literary manager at South Coast Rep. Then the holiday party for the Playwrights group I'm a member of, which will include a lot of theatre professionals and other writers. Then that weekend I'm attending three new play readings.
In January, I'm doing a mini-workshop of a play I wrote this year. Then I'm going back to Santa Clara to guest lecture on the business of getting representation. Hopefully, I can get some meetings set up with some necessary folks in the Communications and English departments re: me teaching there again.
And in February, I'm going back to Santa Clara for another lecture.
Is that the direction, I should be going in. I don't know. But I do know that my calendar is filled with a lot of theatre and education related events. So I'm just going to keep going forward and fill my time in between with the writing I need to be doing. And we'll just take it from there.
I'm looking at my calendar and it's indicating a certain direction. It may not be the direction, but it's a direction.
Today I have a conference call about a play that's being read in DC next month. We're going to discuss what I want from the reading and what's still troubling me about the play. Thursday, I have another discussion with a local theatre company about the same play to discuss what the play is about and what I'm trying to achieve. Then on Saturday, my writers group is getting together and I'm supposed to be presenting new pages.
Next week I have dinner with a literary manager at South Coast Rep. Then the holiday party for the Playwrights group I'm a member of, which will include a lot of theatre professionals and other writers. Then that weekend I'm attending three new play readings.
In January, I'm doing a mini-workshop of a play I wrote this year. Then I'm going back to Santa Clara to guest lecture on the business of getting representation. Hopefully, I can get some meetings set up with some necessary folks in the Communications and English departments re: me teaching there again.
And in February, I'm going back to Santa Clara for another lecture.
Is that the direction, I should be going in. I don't know. But I do know that my calendar is filled with a lot of theatre and education related events. So I'm just going to keep going forward and fill my time in between with the writing I need to be doing. And we'll just take it from there.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Post-Thanksgiving Wrap Up
Thanksgiving was wonderful. I had an early dinner with my friends and my Mom at Steve and Vic's. The first without my Dad, but it seemed to go off without a hitch. Then The Drummer and I drove down to Indio so he could play a gig that night. Lots of fun at Fantasy Spring Casino where I could smoke inside and drink lots of Jack and Gingers. And apparently The Drummer and I were Eye Fucking each other throughout all three sets, according to the lead singer's girlfriend, Jasmine. It was cute as could be.
After drinking our faces off and a threeway that never came to pass, we had sex and went to bed. Then woke up, had sex again and got our asses on the road. Well, first we had to go to the Fantasy Springs Casino Buffet and gorge ourselves on salads, tri tip, potstickers, samosas, and lots of yummy stuff that's bad for us. I love a buffet. But I have a particular thing about how I eat at buffets. I think I got this from my Dad, but maybe not.
There are the types of people at buffets that are just so happy to be drinking and smoking at 10 AM and wearing elastic wasted pants that they don't care about decorum. So they do a few interesting things:
1) They load up two plates at a time at the buffet. Because they get winded if they get up too much? God, I hope not. I think this is a little ridiculous. It's kind of like double fisting at the bar, but it's so much worse. It's gluttonous and white trashy in the worst way possible. But what makes it worse is...
2) When people decide that they are going to fit all of the buffet on their very crowded plate(s). They probably skip making their own green salad and go straight to the prepared salads. Then they put on some chicken, maybe a piece of steak, ravioli, burrito, pizza, creamed spinach, sweet and sour pork and ribs. A bunch of stuff that doesn't go together at all. Yes, of course, my look of disgust is followed by their response of: "Hey, it's all goin' the same place anyway", which is followed by a loud belch. Then they continue eating and dip their pizza or ribs into a very full side of Ranch dressing.
This is how I do it. It's so much more civilized:
1) Plate One: Salads/Cold Items. I like to start out slow and make a little green salad for myself: romaine lettuce, cucumbers, beets, blue cheese crumbles, maybe some bacon bits if they're real crumbled bacon, olives and garbanzo beans. Then a balsamic dressing. If the build your own salad items are good, then I'll do a full salad first. Or if I'm really hungry I'll do a full salad. Otherwise, I'll add some prepared salads to the side.
2) Plate Two: Meat. I'll choose my main protein, like a try tip or roasted chicken. Maybe salmon if it looks good or another fish. Then I'll choose some sides that go with that: mac and cheese, veggies, creamed spinach. Maybe pasta if there isn't another starch. But I make sure that it looks just like a regular plate I'd order at another restaurant. Sometimes I'll add another protein like ribs...as long as it goes together.
3) Plate Three: Smorgesbord. Okay, I know I said that I don't like to mix everything together. But what I do here is a selection of appetizers. Maybe I'll go revisit the cold prepared salads to add to this. I maybe even take this opportunity to try the soup with some apps on my plate as well. So if I'm doing Asian, then I'll do potstickers, char siu bao, potstickers and maybe even some noodles. If it's Italian, I'll do pizza and pasta, maybe even a little more salad to get some greens on there.
4) Plate Four: Dessert. At this point I'm pretty full and I don't really have a sweet tooth. So it might just be a parfait or chocolate mousse or a piece of cheesecake and a fruit tart. Something light and fun. If there's a chocolate fountain, then maybe some chocolate dipped strawberries. But the key is to make the plate look pretty.
The key is to make the plate look good. You can always go back for more. That's never an issue. But when I see people pile their plates up high like they're storing nuts for the winter, it just drives me crazy. It's not civilized. A buffet is basically a multiple course dinner. So I like it to look that way.
Now that I've kind of recovered (I didn't go with The Drummer to his gig last night), I'm in bed writing and getting work done. I'll probably either make a stuffed portabello mushroom or tacos later for dinner and read some plays I need to read. I need to recover from a debaucherous past few nights. My liver and stomach both need a break.
After drinking our faces off and a threeway that never came to pass, we had sex and went to bed. Then woke up, had sex again and got our asses on the road. Well, first we had to go to the Fantasy Springs Casino Buffet and gorge ourselves on salads, tri tip, potstickers, samosas, and lots of yummy stuff that's bad for us. I love a buffet. But I have a particular thing about how I eat at buffets. I think I got this from my Dad, but maybe not.
There are the types of people at buffets that are just so happy to be drinking and smoking at 10 AM and wearing elastic wasted pants that they don't care about decorum. So they do a few interesting things:
1) They load up two plates at a time at the buffet. Because they get winded if they get up too much? God, I hope not. I think this is a little ridiculous. It's kind of like double fisting at the bar, but it's so much worse. It's gluttonous and white trashy in the worst way possible. But what makes it worse is...
2) When people decide that they are going to fit all of the buffet on their very crowded plate(s). They probably skip making their own green salad and go straight to the prepared salads. Then they put on some chicken, maybe a piece of steak, ravioli, burrito, pizza, creamed spinach, sweet and sour pork and ribs. A bunch of stuff that doesn't go together at all. Yes, of course, my look of disgust is followed by their response of: "Hey, it's all goin' the same place anyway", which is followed by a loud belch. Then they continue eating and dip their pizza or ribs into a very full side of Ranch dressing.
This is how I do it. It's so much more civilized:
1) Plate One: Salads/Cold Items. I like to start out slow and make a little green salad for myself: romaine lettuce, cucumbers, beets, blue cheese crumbles, maybe some bacon bits if they're real crumbled bacon, olives and garbanzo beans. Then a balsamic dressing. If the build your own salad items are good, then I'll do a full salad first. Or if I'm really hungry I'll do a full salad. Otherwise, I'll add some prepared salads to the side.
2) Plate Two: Meat. I'll choose my main protein, like a try tip or roasted chicken. Maybe salmon if it looks good or another fish. Then I'll choose some sides that go with that: mac and cheese, veggies, creamed spinach. Maybe pasta if there isn't another starch. But I make sure that it looks just like a regular plate I'd order at another restaurant. Sometimes I'll add another protein like ribs...as long as it goes together.
3) Plate Three: Smorgesbord. Okay, I know I said that I don't like to mix everything together. But what I do here is a selection of appetizers. Maybe I'll go revisit the cold prepared salads to add to this. I maybe even take this opportunity to try the soup with some apps on my plate as well. So if I'm doing Asian, then I'll do potstickers, char siu bao, potstickers and maybe even some noodles. If it's Italian, I'll do pizza and pasta, maybe even a little more salad to get some greens on there.
4) Plate Four: Dessert. At this point I'm pretty full and I don't really have a sweet tooth. So it might just be a parfait or chocolate mousse or a piece of cheesecake and a fruit tart. Something light and fun. If there's a chocolate fountain, then maybe some chocolate dipped strawberries. But the key is to make the plate look pretty.
The key is to make the plate look good. You can always go back for more. That's never an issue. But when I see people pile their plates up high like they're storing nuts for the winter, it just drives me crazy. It's not civilized. A buffet is basically a multiple course dinner. So I like it to look that way.
Now that I've kind of recovered (I didn't go with The Drummer to his gig last night), I'm in bed writing and getting work done. I'll probably either make a stuffed portabello mushroom or tacos later for dinner and read some plays I need to read. I need to recover from a debaucherous past few nights. My liver and stomach both need a break.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
50 Gratitudes in One Day
I have a bunch of friends who have been doing 50 Days of Gratitude. I like to challenge myself. I'm going to do a speed round of 50 Gratitudes in One Day. Is gratitudes a word? No matter.
In no particular order.
50. A new single by Solange Knowles. I'm listening to "Lovers in the Parking Lot" from her new EP Pure. Listening to it off the NPR website.
49. Days where I can just lay around and let my mind wander. I've had two of those this month.
48. Tony Asaro. We're finally working on a project together. More info to come.
47. Workouts. I'm working out three days a week consistently and it's starting to pay off.
46. Tea. I love tea. All sorts of tea. It soothes me. Right now I'm kicking it old school with Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime Tea. Been drinking it since I was a wee lad.
45. My boyfriend's blue eyes. Been looking into them for sixteen and a half months and counting.
44. My MacBook. I inherited it from my sister in law at a time when I really needed it.
43. Taquitos, Enchiladas, Posole and Tamales: the Mexican food I learned to make from my Mexican grandmother and my Chinese father.
42. Pepe's No. 2: While we're on the subject. My faves are the chorizo and papas burrito, the green chile pork burrito with rice, nachos, tostadas and the carne asada soft tacos.
41. Day trips. The boyfriend has reintroduced them to me. My Dad used to take us on little day road trips all the time when we were young.
40. My students at Santa Clara University. I haven't taught there in a year, but I spent the better part of the past 12 months being inspired by them as I taught and directed them.
39. Veronica Gonzalez. She's not on Facebook, so she won't see this. But I love the dinners she cooks with her fiance (and my college floor mate) James. And I love it when we drink...
38. Manhattans. Oh dear Jesus.
37. Thanksgiving. It's here again. I love it.
36. My therapist. He's helping.
35. DVR. Right now we've got episodes of The New Normal, Nashville, Anthony Bourdain (both The Layover and No Reservations), The Latino List I and II, Glee, The Voice and Game Change.
34. Pretzel Time. Jeff knows what I mean.
33. Rogue Machine Theatre. I'm getting to know them very well.
32. Productivity. I wrote a new play this year. I wrote a spec episode of Glee for submissions. I have a pilot that I'm rewriting. A pilot I wrote a shitty first draft of. A one act musical I wrote and saw produced this past summer. My blog I'm maintaining. Two pilots that I am currently outlining. Not bragging, just happy to be busy.
31. Life. My Dad died this year. So I'm grateful to still be here.
30. My boyfriend's stamina.
29. Regular meetings with Larry Pontius. We get to talk about what we're working on. It makes me accountable and it's the whole reason for item 32.
28. A shaved head. Less time getting ready in the morning. Has made me look both more mature and younger at the same time. Love THAT trick.
27. Crazy nights out in West Hollywood. I can appreciate them now that they are no longer routine and now that they only happen once in a blue moon.
26. Time. However I spend it.
25. Tour. The boyfriend has been going out on tour for the past three months in a row. It's sad for him to be gone, but it's great time for us to realize how much we value each other.
24. Sleep. I love it.
23. Twenty minutes of quiet time a day. I don't get it every day or often enough, but I'm grateful when I get it.
22. NPR and MSNBC. Because I'm that guy and proud of it.
21. Our president. And the fact that he's been re-elected.
20. Family. My bro and my Mom and my niece and nephew and sister in law.
19. Madonna.
18. The last three months of my Dad's life when I was at my parents' home caretaking. I learned more about myself in those three months.
17. The Playwrights Union and the folks I've met there. They're giving me a community out here in LA that I'm happy to be a part of.
16. Jerry, Carolyn, Jeff and Kristin: my colleagues from SCU who keep me inspired and want me to come back. The fact that two of them were also my mentors when I was a student there makes me think it would be fun to go back.
15. Documentaries. I love them. I just watched the David Geffen American Masters documentary that was on PBS last night.
14. Theatre. I want to do more of it.
13. My loud mouth. It usually gets me into trouble, but this year it helped me protect someone I love and made me realize it can be used for good instead of evil. :)
12. Friends. Especially the ones who have lost a parent and made it easier because they understood in a way other people couldn't.
11. Cafe Gratitude. Because I like a raw vegan meal every once in a while.
10. Korean Spas. Because sometimes it's nice to relax and sometimes it's nice to relax with others.
9. Cleanses. They have kept me free from getting colds for the past two years.
8. Running. It clears my head.
7. Words.
6. Five and a half hour drives to and from the Bay Area. No radio. Just me and my thoughts. So good.
5. In N Out burgers.
4. Music. And musicians. And one drummer in particular.
3. Pool time at Vic and Steve's during the summer.
2. Psyllium husk powder. Keeps things moving.
1. The wisdom that comes with age.
In no particular order.
50. A new single by Solange Knowles. I'm listening to "Lovers in the Parking Lot" from her new EP Pure. Listening to it off the NPR website.
49. Days where I can just lay around and let my mind wander. I've had two of those this month.
48. Tony Asaro. We're finally working on a project together. More info to come.
47. Workouts. I'm working out three days a week consistently and it's starting to pay off.
46. Tea. I love tea. All sorts of tea. It soothes me. Right now I'm kicking it old school with Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime Tea. Been drinking it since I was a wee lad.
45. My boyfriend's blue eyes. Been looking into them for sixteen and a half months and counting.
44. My MacBook. I inherited it from my sister in law at a time when I really needed it.
43. Taquitos, Enchiladas, Posole and Tamales: the Mexican food I learned to make from my Mexican grandmother and my Chinese father.
42. Pepe's No. 2: While we're on the subject. My faves are the chorizo and papas burrito, the green chile pork burrito with rice, nachos, tostadas and the carne asada soft tacos.
41. Day trips. The boyfriend has reintroduced them to me. My Dad used to take us on little day road trips all the time when we were young.
40. My students at Santa Clara University. I haven't taught there in a year, but I spent the better part of the past 12 months being inspired by them as I taught and directed them.
39. Veronica Gonzalez. She's not on Facebook, so she won't see this. But I love the dinners she cooks with her fiance (and my college floor mate) James. And I love it when we drink...
38. Manhattans. Oh dear Jesus.
37. Thanksgiving. It's here again. I love it.
36. My therapist. He's helping.
35. DVR. Right now we've got episodes of The New Normal, Nashville, Anthony Bourdain (both The Layover and No Reservations), The Latino List I and II, Glee, The Voice and Game Change.
34. Pretzel Time. Jeff knows what I mean.
33. Rogue Machine Theatre. I'm getting to know them very well.
32. Productivity. I wrote a new play this year. I wrote a spec episode of Glee for submissions. I have a pilot that I'm rewriting. A pilot I wrote a shitty first draft of. A one act musical I wrote and saw produced this past summer. My blog I'm maintaining. Two pilots that I am currently outlining. Not bragging, just happy to be busy.
31. Life. My Dad died this year. So I'm grateful to still be here.
30. My boyfriend's stamina.
29. Regular meetings with Larry Pontius. We get to talk about what we're working on. It makes me accountable and it's the whole reason for item 32.
28. A shaved head. Less time getting ready in the morning. Has made me look both more mature and younger at the same time. Love THAT trick.
27. Crazy nights out in West Hollywood. I can appreciate them now that they are no longer routine and now that they only happen once in a blue moon.
26. Time. However I spend it.
25. Tour. The boyfriend has been going out on tour for the past three months in a row. It's sad for him to be gone, but it's great time for us to realize how much we value each other.
24. Sleep. I love it.
23. Twenty minutes of quiet time a day. I don't get it every day or often enough, but I'm grateful when I get it.
22. NPR and MSNBC. Because I'm that guy and proud of it.
21. Our president. And the fact that he's been re-elected.
20. Family. My bro and my Mom and my niece and nephew and sister in law.
19. Madonna.
18. The last three months of my Dad's life when I was at my parents' home caretaking. I learned more about myself in those three months.
17. The Playwrights Union and the folks I've met there. They're giving me a community out here in LA that I'm happy to be a part of.
16. Jerry, Carolyn, Jeff and Kristin: my colleagues from SCU who keep me inspired and want me to come back. The fact that two of them were also my mentors when I was a student there makes me think it would be fun to go back.
15. Documentaries. I love them. I just watched the David Geffen American Masters documentary that was on PBS last night.
14. Theatre. I want to do more of it.
13. My loud mouth. It usually gets me into trouble, but this year it helped me protect someone I love and made me realize it can be used for good instead of evil. :)
12. Friends. Especially the ones who have lost a parent and made it easier because they understood in a way other people couldn't.
11. Cafe Gratitude. Because I like a raw vegan meal every once in a while.
10. Korean Spas. Because sometimes it's nice to relax and sometimes it's nice to relax with others.
9. Cleanses. They have kept me free from getting colds for the past two years.
8. Running. It clears my head.
7. Words.
6. Five and a half hour drives to and from the Bay Area. No radio. Just me and my thoughts. So good.
5. In N Out burgers.
4. Music. And musicians. And one drummer in particular.
3. Pool time at Vic and Steve's during the summer.
2. Psyllium husk powder. Keeps things moving.
1. The wisdom that comes with age.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Saying Yes to LETTING IT GO
When my Father was dying (I now refer to the year he spent sick as the time he was dying because he eventually did), I was forced into the position of caretaker, bodyguard, and pitbull. Remarkably, it was a role that I fit perfectly and that I loved playing. I could get out all of my aggression and anger at him and the situation by proving what a great son I was by yelling at people. And no one was immune to my anger: the doctors, the nurses, the care workers, the case workers, and especially my Mother.
I wanted to know how she could just kind of step back and LET GO of my Dad. It seemed like she was just completely freaked out by the whole experience and didn't know how to handle it. So she just didn't handle it. To be fair, my Mother didn't just disappear. She was managing and maintaining a certain status quo that her and my Father maintained during much of the later years of their marriage. She kind of just stood there and didn't lose her stuffing when my Father treated her like an emotional punching bag. It's the only life she knew with him, so to deviate from that at the end of his life would have felt like a betrayal I'm sure.
But I would come in, like a firestorm, and just handle the shit out of everything. As much as I complain (to this day) about how I had to handle my Dad and his needs, I know that something in me needed to prove to him and myself that I was capable of being the man in charge. My whole life my Father treated me like he was worried that I wouldn't be able to take care of myself. And it's probably that fear and that mentality that prevented me from handling a lot of things in my life. I handled all of the things they didn't understand or have control over. I was an excellent student and I'm great at my job. I'm a writer and an artist and I excel at that. I'm a wonderful creative force. But when it comes to handling my money or responsibility in sustaining a level of livelihood, I'm not great at that. Because I was told from an early age that I wouldn't be good at it because I was exactly like my Mother. That idea got engrained in me. So deep.
Back to me being a pitbull...I had great purpose in yelling at people. I only got aggressive when I felt like there were answers that I wasn't being given. I have never accepted the idea that because of the color of my skin and because of where I grew up I was less than. I grew up feeling less than because I was gay or because I wasn't cute growing up. But never because I was Mexican and Chinese and from Downey, CA. So when my brown ass was in Downey Regional Hospital, I certainly wasn't going to let any of the doctors talk to me like they talked to the other families of patients they talked down to. My purpose was to make sure that my father was healthy and getting the best care possible. But then I realized something.
My Dad didn't care as much as the rest of us did. The rest of us include my Mom, my Brother, his friends, my friends, and me. And that's the first time I realized that I had to LET GO. I had held on to him so tight and started leading that I was no longer leading us towards what he wanted. He didn't want to fight. He had given up. His life would have been complete at a 68, almost 69, years. That wasn't good enough for me, but it was good enough for him. He had LET GO. Why was I having such a hard time?
I could say to him, "I can't want this more than you do." But I would continue to want him to live more than he wanted himself to live. So after going to every doctor's appointment, every nutritionist's appointment, making sure I was there for the doctor's rounds when he was in the hospital, writing the dos and don'ts on poster board on my parents' refrigerator, clearing out the high sodium foods from their pantry and refrigerator, yelling at my Mom for doing a shitty job, yelling at my Mom for not listening, yelling at my Mom for letting him fall and for not supervising him and for countless things--big and small--I finally had to LET IT GO.
But something happened in all of this. By defending my father and protecting him, I had realized what he couldn't articulate for my entire life. He had been protecting and defending me by yelling. It was usually at me. But in his mind, he was fighting for my life. Maybe that's why he didn't have any fight in him left. But I can't blame myself. I have to LET THAT GO. And when I realized that I embodied the kind of protection he believed in and that I truly was cut from the same cloth, I LET GO of needing him to validate me. We were done and resolved in our relationship without having the big conversation. I understood him because I had behaved like him over a prolonged period of time.
And that felt great. I felt resolved. I felt accomplished that my Father would die and we would have worked out most of our shit that kept me grounded my whole life. And not grounded in the sense of humble. But on the ground. Unable to fly. Weighed down. And now that weight was gone and I could start floating.
But then I still had anger. I had anger at my Mother for not doing everything I thought she should be doing to help the man she had stayed married to--against my advice, even. I didn't like the way she spoke to him. I didn't like that fact that she didn't have immediate answers for me when I asked her questions about his health. How could she not ask the doctors the most simple questions? And sadly, I understood how my Father could treat her poorly. I don't approve of it. But I really understood the frustration.
And I realized that I had to LET THAT GO too. I had to LET GO of the fact that my Mother didn't handle my Father's illness the way I would have. I had to LET GO of my expectations for her. I had to LET GO of my anger that she let me handle everything. But that's what she knew. She doesn't think she's capable of speaking up for my Father's health because he had controlled her for so long. And even though she had begun to speak up for herself, my Father had already rattled her to the core so long ago for so many years. I LET GO of my expectations for her. Well, I'm still LETTING GO. It's a hard process. But that's why I'm in therapy.
And once I started LETTING GO of my expectations for my parents, I started LETTING GO of other things:
My need to control everything.
My need to know exactly what's going to happen next.
My need to boss people around to show what a man I am because clearly a gay man has to prove himself to show that because he may talk, throw and act like a girl, it doesn't mean that he's a girl in the misogynistic pejorative sense.
My belief that everyone knows more than I do.
My belief that I'm not smart enough.
I had to LET IT ALL GO. And that's what I've said YES to. And the more I say YES to it and the more I LET GO, the more things fall away that are unnecessary. It's like this need I have to cleanse myself constantly. I just want to get rid of the empty calories in my life and the dead skin and the dirt. Anything that does not serve to reveal my most pure, most true self.
I wanted to know how she could just kind of step back and LET GO of my Dad. It seemed like she was just completely freaked out by the whole experience and didn't know how to handle it. So she just didn't handle it. To be fair, my Mother didn't just disappear. She was managing and maintaining a certain status quo that her and my Father maintained during much of the later years of their marriage. She kind of just stood there and didn't lose her stuffing when my Father treated her like an emotional punching bag. It's the only life she knew with him, so to deviate from that at the end of his life would have felt like a betrayal I'm sure.
But I would come in, like a firestorm, and just handle the shit out of everything. As much as I complain (to this day) about how I had to handle my Dad and his needs, I know that something in me needed to prove to him and myself that I was capable of being the man in charge. My whole life my Father treated me like he was worried that I wouldn't be able to take care of myself. And it's probably that fear and that mentality that prevented me from handling a lot of things in my life. I handled all of the things they didn't understand or have control over. I was an excellent student and I'm great at my job. I'm a writer and an artist and I excel at that. I'm a wonderful creative force. But when it comes to handling my money or responsibility in sustaining a level of livelihood, I'm not great at that. Because I was told from an early age that I wouldn't be good at it because I was exactly like my Mother. That idea got engrained in me. So deep.
Back to me being a pitbull...I had great purpose in yelling at people. I only got aggressive when I felt like there were answers that I wasn't being given. I have never accepted the idea that because of the color of my skin and because of where I grew up I was less than. I grew up feeling less than because I was gay or because I wasn't cute growing up. But never because I was Mexican and Chinese and from Downey, CA. So when my brown ass was in Downey Regional Hospital, I certainly wasn't going to let any of the doctors talk to me like they talked to the other families of patients they talked down to. My purpose was to make sure that my father was healthy and getting the best care possible. But then I realized something.
My Dad didn't care as much as the rest of us did. The rest of us include my Mom, my Brother, his friends, my friends, and me. And that's the first time I realized that I had to LET GO. I had held on to him so tight and started leading that I was no longer leading us towards what he wanted. He didn't want to fight. He had given up. His life would have been complete at a 68, almost 69, years. That wasn't good enough for me, but it was good enough for him. He had LET GO. Why was I having such a hard time?
I could say to him, "I can't want this more than you do." But I would continue to want him to live more than he wanted himself to live. So after going to every doctor's appointment, every nutritionist's appointment, making sure I was there for the doctor's rounds when he was in the hospital, writing the dos and don'ts on poster board on my parents' refrigerator, clearing out the high sodium foods from their pantry and refrigerator, yelling at my Mom for doing a shitty job, yelling at my Mom for not listening, yelling at my Mom for letting him fall and for not supervising him and for countless things--big and small--I finally had to LET IT GO.
But something happened in all of this. By defending my father and protecting him, I had realized what he couldn't articulate for my entire life. He had been protecting and defending me by yelling. It was usually at me. But in his mind, he was fighting for my life. Maybe that's why he didn't have any fight in him left. But I can't blame myself. I have to LET THAT GO. And when I realized that I embodied the kind of protection he believed in and that I truly was cut from the same cloth, I LET GO of needing him to validate me. We were done and resolved in our relationship without having the big conversation. I understood him because I had behaved like him over a prolonged period of time.
And that felt great. I felt resolved. I felt accomplished that my Father would die and we would have worked out most of our shit that kept me grounded my whole life. And not grounded in the sense of humble. But on the ground. Unable to fly. Weighed down. And now that weight was gone and I could start floating.
But then I still had anger. I had anger at my Mother for not doing everything I thought she should be doing to help the man she had stayed married to--against my advice, even. I didn't like the way she spoke to him. I didn't like that fact that she didn't have immediate answers for me when I asked her questions about his health. How could she not ask the doctors the most simple questions? And sadly, I understood how my Father could treat her poorly. I don't approve of it. But I really understood the frustration.
And I realized that I had to LET THAT GO too. I had to LET GO of the fact that my Mother didn't handle my Father's illness the way I would have. I had to LET GO of my expectations for her. I had to LET GO of my anger that she let me handle everything. But that's what she knew. She doesn't think she's capable of speaking up for my Father's health because he had controlled her for so long. And even though she had begun to speak up for herself, my Father had already rattled her to the core so long ago for so many years. I LET GO of my expectations for her. Well, I'm still LETTING GO. It's a hard process. But that's why I'm in therapy.
And once I started LETTING GO of my expectations for my parents, I started LETTING GO of other things:
My need to control everything.
My need to know exactly what's going to happen next.
My need to boss people around to show what a man I am because clearly a gay man has to prove himself to show that because he may talk, throw and act like a girl, it doesn't mean that he's a girl in the misogynistic pejorative sense.
My belief that everyone knows more than I do.
My belief that I'm not smart enough.
I had to LET IT ALL GO. And that's what I've said YES to. And the more I say YES to it and the more I LET GO, the more things fall away that are unnecessary. It's like this need I have to cleanse myself constantly. I just want to get rid of the empty calories in my life and the dead skin and the dirt. Anything that does not serve to reveal my most pure, most true self.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Saying Yes to WRITING TELEVISION
I have been out here for several years trying to break into TV writing. I've had a few bites. I interviewed for a staff job on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I almost got into the Nickelodeon Writers Workshop. I have written numerous spec scripts and original pilots. I have had meetings with networks and studios. I was developing pilots at production companies and studios and was working on a web series idea. A lot has happened. But nothing came to fruition.
I've been knocking my head around trying to please all of these people and give them exactly what they want. But I hadn't been saying YES to what I want.
I'm a good networker and schmoozer. Sometimes I think that has come off as a bit desperate. So I'm LETTING GO of this idea that I need to hunt people down and I'm just going get my work done. I have three strong pilot ideas that are in various stages of development. This year I wrote a new play and a spec of Glee that I submitted to various writers workshops run by the studios. I have been working on one specific TV idea for months that seemed to stall out.
I meet with my friend Larry a few times a month just to shoot the shit and to check in with each other about where we are in terms of the scripts we are writing. Larry suggested that I stop hitting my head against the wall with this script that had gone from a half hour to a one hour and various incarnations with different ideas for characters, spinning and spinning into a desperate spiral. I had mentioned that I wanted to write a simple half hour show about my relationship with The Drummer. We're two different types of gay guys. I'm very obvious. He's not. And then trying to get our very different groups of friends together is sometimes challenging. I think there's a show in that. We also happen to be of two different cultures, but even within our gay culture there's a lot of culture clash. So I took Larry's advice and I started writing that show. I had a draft within a week. It was a messy shitty draft, but I had gotten it done.
In the meantime, I had a brainstorm about my previous idea. I had great characters, a great premise and I knew I had great plot. What I didn't have a great story. I didn't have the show. One of the characters is based on my Mom and her recent loss of her husband, my Father. This character always reached out to me and was the one I connected with. But I was writing a pilot that was about four women and three of them were rich, powerful and successful and at the top of their game. One was a former sex symbol, one was a broadcast journalist and one was a university professor. Then you had this woman who gave up a career and became a stay at home mom and who had just lost her husband. I had all of these great reference points and a wonderful intellectual conversation about who these women were and what they represented and their historical significance...blah, blah, blah. Not an interesting show. Interesting subject matter, for sure.
Then I decided to focus on this woman who is basically my mother. And I decided to make her the focus of my attention. Then the show came together with these other women written out and other women written in her place. I know the format. I know the journey of the pilot and where it will go from there. I have sat with these women for a little bit of time before really writing out my story and plot. I know what I want this show to be.
But I also knew that I wanted to write a one hour soap. I didn't have an interesting milieu and that's something I've been searching for. I want to write a big soap with people who have money and power and influence. I want to write deep family drama and sweeping epic stories as well. But I didn't have a setting. I had been writing something that took place in the art world, but that didn't seem authentic to me. It kept getting more and more fabricated.
I got in my car a few days ago and I thought to myself, "I need to come up with that magic idea for a one hour. These half hours are great and I'm excited about them. But I also have these dramatic plays and nothing to pair them up with in terms of a great TV sample." Then I went back to my family background. I have been hesitant to write about it. I write about being Latino or about being Asian, but never about both. Never my story of being of mixed race, of being Chexican (Chinese and Mexican). Then I thought about one of my favorite subjects. I'm deliberately being vague, I realize. But it's something I'm obsessed with and it's a world that does have money and influence. It also has struggle. It also has various levels of success and different types of characters already built in. There could be a criminal element to it. And some of my characters are Chexicans. I have a title. I started writing up my characters right away. And I'm off to the races.
I'm saying YES to writing all three of these projects before the end of the year. I'm LETTING GO of the feeling that I can't come up with an idea. I'm just letting it come to me.
I also have an idea I want to pitch with my best friend. She loves the idea. Her manager is reading my treatment and my new material. So that's four pilot ideas. I'm just trying to be here now. My worry has been that people are going to judge me on my past. On the fact that they know me in another capacity and not as a writer. But if you give them enough that is different, they can't judge you on what was there before. They have to judge you on who you are now if you give them enough information in which to make that call. But ultimately it's not about them and it's not about being judged, it's about being who I am now. And as long as I focus on that, the then will come.
I've been knocking my head around trying to please all of these people and give them exactly what they want. But I hadn't been saying YES to what I want.
I'm a good networker and schmoozer. Sometimes I think that has come off as a bit desperate. So I'm LETTING GO of this idea that I need to hunt people down and I'm just going get my work done. I have three strong pilot ideas that are in various stages of development. This year I wrote a new play and a spec of Glee that I submitted to various writers workshops run by the studios. I have been working on one specific TV idea for months that seemed to stall out.
I meet with my friend Larry a few times a month just to shoot the shit and to check in with each other about where we are in terms of the scripts we are writing. Larry suggested that I stop hitting my head against the wall with this script that had gone from a half hour to a one hour and various incarnations with different ideas for characters, spinning and spinning into a desperate spiral. I had mentioned that I wanted to write a simple half hour show about my relationship with The Drummer. We're two different types of gay guys. I'm very obvious. He's not. And then trying to get our very different groups of friends together is sometimes challenging. I think there's a show in that. We also happen to be of two different cultures, but even within our gay culture there's a lot of culture clash. So I took Larry's advice and I started writing that show. I had a draft within a week. It was a messy shitty draft, but I had gotten it done.
In the meantime, I had a brainstorm about my previous idea. I had great characters, a great premise and I knew I had great plot. What I didn't have a great story. I didn't have the show. One of the characters is based on my Mom and her recent loss of her husband, my Father. This character always reached out to me and was the one I connected with. But I was writing a pilot that was about four women and three of them were rich, powerful and successful and at the top of their game. One was a former sex symbol, one was a broadcast journalist and one was a university professor. Then you had this woman who gave up a career and became a stay at home mom and who had just lost her husband. I had all of these great reference points and a wonderful intellectual conversation about who these women were and what they represented and their historical significance...blah, blah, blah. Not an interesting show. Interesting subject matter, for sure.
Then I decided to focus on this woman who is basically my mother. And I decided to make her the focus of my attention. Then the show came together with these other women written out and other women written in her place. I know the format. I know the journey of the pilot and where it will go from there. I have sat with these women for a little bit of time before really writing out my story and plot. I know what I want this show to be.
But I also knew that I wanted to write a one hour soap. I didn't have an interesting milieu and that's something I've been searching for. I want to write a big soap with people who have money and power and influence. I want to write deep family drama and sweeping epic stories as well. But I didn't have a setting. I had been writing something that took place in the art world, but that didn't seem authentic to me. It kept getting more and more fabricated.
I got in my car a few days ago and I thought to myself, "I need to come up with that magic idea for a one hour. These half hours are great and I'm excited about them. But I also have these dramatic plays and nothing to pair them up with in terms of a great TV sample." Then I went back to my family background. I have been hesitant to write about it. I write about being Latino or about being Asian, but never about both. Never my story of being of mixed race, of being Chexican (Chinese and Mexican). Then I thought about one of my favorite subjects. I'm deliberately being vague, I realize. But it's something I'm obsessed with and it's a world that does have money and influence. It also has struggle. It also has various levels of success and different types of characters already built in. There could be a criminal element to it. And some of my characters are Chexicans. I have a title. I started writing up my characters right away. And I'm off to the races.
I'm saying YES to writing all three of these projects before the end of the year. I'm LETTING GO of the feeling that I can't come up with an idea. I'm just letting it come to me.
I also have an idea I want to pitch with my best friend. She loves the idea. Her manager is reading my treatment and my new material. So that's four pilot ideas. I'm just trying to be here now. My worry has been that people are going to judge me on my past. On the fact that they know me in another capacity and not as a writer. But if you give them enough that is different, they can't judge you on what was there before. They have to judge you on who you are now if you give them enough information in which to make that call. But ultimately it's not about them and it's not about being judged, it's about being who I am now. And as long as I focus on that, the then will come.
Saying Yes to WRITING THEATRE
I have always had an identity crisis. When I was in grad school, all of my professors told me that I should write in TV. And truthfully, I love that idea. I have loved television my whole life. One of my earliest memories was watching a TV show growing up and wanting to be the person who was in charge of saying what was going to happen in the stories. So I guess one of my earliest instincts was to be a writer, although I had no idea what that meant. I used to tape TV show theme songs and perform puppet shows for my 3rd and 4th grade class where the puppets would lip sync the theme songs.
But I started writing plays in college because I loved the interaction of writers, directors and actors. I was a wannabe theatre guy when I got to SCU. I thought the theatre people were so strange and interesting. And that's where I wanted to be. Fortunately, I had several professors who encouraged this in me. So I wrote plays and went to graduate school and studied writing plays, as well as film and TV. But the theatre world hasn't made me a star yet. So most of my time post grad school I have felt like a failure. I've written some wonderful plays in that time. But since I wanted to be a star and I'm not a star, all I've felt is failure and like I didn't fit in.
I've decided to LET IT GO. So I'm going to send my plays out like I always do. And I'm going to write plays like I always do. Back in February and March, I wrote a play for a writing challenge sponsored by a group I'm involved with called the Playwrights Union. The challenge was to write a play in a month, which I did. It was awful. But the feedback I got was so helpful that I finally wrote the play I was meant to write in four days. Then I rewrote and rewrote and did a reading of it in May. Then my best friend who was in the reading said she wanted to produce it. YES after YES after YES. So we're working on producing it now. We're going to do a workshop of it in January, when her schedule frees up.
I wrote a play last year called The Snake Charmer that I love. But it hasn't been shown much love. This week I got an email from a theatre called The Inkwell in D.C. that is going to do a reading of a section of the play as a part of a development program they run which I'm a finalist for. Based on that reading, I'll get some help from a dramaturg to work on the next draft. Then if that goes well, I'll do a four day intensive workshop in D.C. and if that's cool I'll get a production of it.
I've been submitting both plays to various festivals and development programs like The O'Neill, Sundance Theatre Labs, Portland Center Stage's Just Add Water festival, New Harmony, The Ground Floor at Berkeley Rep, Ojai Playwrights Festival, etc.
I knew I didn't have any plays in me for the rest of the year. I didn't have any ideas. I have three TV pilot ideas I am currently in various stages of writing. So I know that I'll be occupied with that for the rest of the year.
But my friend Tony who just moved back to SF from NYC decided to start a theatre company. And he kept saying to me that I'm on his "short list" of people to work with. We had talked about collaborating years ago when he was in NYC. But nothing came of it. So now he's got this theatre company that's starting. He teaches at SCU, so when I went up there I saw him for a few minutes. We talked about working together. He eventually sent me an idea he has. It's an adaptation of a famous play and I like his take on it. So that will be the play I'll write next year. I'll take it to next year's writing challenge. I'm saying YES to writing that play and getting invested in that idea and collaborating with a good friend of mine. I'm saying YES by reading the original source material and writing up some ideas for my take on it.
And all of a sudden I feel like a playwright again.
But I started writing plays in college because I loved the interaction of writers, directors and actors. I was a wannabe theatre guy when I got to SCU. I thought the theatre people were so strange and interesting. And that's where I wanted to be. Fortunately, I had several professors who encouraged this in me. So I wrote plays and went to graduate school and studied writing plays, as well as film and TV. But the theatre world hasn't made me a star yet. So most of my time post grad school I have felt like a failure. I've written some wonderful plays in that time. But since I wanted to be a star and I'm not a star, all I've felt is failure and like I didn't fit in.
I've decided to LET IT GO. So I'm going to send my plays out like I always do. And I'm going to write plays like I always do. Back in February and March, I wrote a play for a writing challenge sponsored by a group I'm involved with called the Playwrights Union. The challenge was to write a play in a month, which I did. It was awful. But the feedback I got was so helpful that I finally wrote the play I was meant to write in four days. Then I rewrote and rewrote and did a reading of it in May. Then my best friend who was in the reading said she wanted to produce it. YES after YES after YES. So we're working on producing it now. We're going to do a workshop of it in January, when her schedule frees up.
I wrote a play last year called The Snake Charmer that I love. But it hasn't been shown much love. This week I got an email from a theatre called The Inkwell in D.C. that is going to do a reading of a section of the play as a part of a development program they run which I'm a finalist for. Based on that reading, I'll get some help from a dramaturg to work on the next draft. Then if that goes well, I'll do a four day intensive workshop in D.C. and if that's cool I'll get a production of it.
I've been submitting both plays to various festivals and development programs like The O'Neill, Sundance Theatre Labs, Portland Center Stage's Just Add Water festival, New Harmony, The Ground Floor at Berkeley Rep, Ojai Playwrights Festival, etc.
I knew I didn't have any plays in me for the rest of the year. I didn't have any ideas. I have three TV pilot ideas I am currently in various stages of writing. So I know that I'll be occupied with that for the rest of the year.
But my friend Tony who just moved back to SF from NYC decided to start a theatre company. And he kept saying to me that I'm on his "short list" of people to work with. We had talked about collaborating years ago when he was in NYC. But nothing came of it. So now he's got this theatre company that's starting. He teaches at SCU, so when I went up there I saw him for a few minutes. We talked about working together. He eventually sent me an idea he has. It's an adaptation of a famous play and I like his take on it. So that will be the play I'll write next year. I'll take it to next year's writing challenge. I'm saying YES to writing that play and getting invested in that idea and collaborating with a good friend of mine. I'm saying YES by reading the original source material and writing up some ideas for my take on it.
And all of a sudden I feel like a playwright again.
Saying Yes to TEACHING
A couple of weeks ago I went back up to Santa Clara University (where I taught last Fall) to go visit some of my former students and see my friends and colleagues.
It started when I got a phone call from some of the male students who were in a study group for their Dramaturgy class. They were all in the Fall show, The Three Muskateers, and asked if I would come see them in the show.
I said YES, I'd try. Then I thought about it some more in the week following. I wanted to see my friend Veronica, who I hadn't seen since May. We had worked together on a project up there. I always stayed with V and her fiancé James. I missed them. And I always worry about my friend V. She's at a crossroads in her life as well, but feeling very stuck. I relate to that. I felt stuck for years before I walked out of my relationship two years ago. I even have given V my copy of Bethenny Frankel's "A Place of Yes" because it had been very helpful for me.
So I reach out to them to see if I could stay with them for the weekend. They said YES.
Then I thought since I was going to be up there and I had been putting out some feelers and looking for teaching jobs, that maybe I could see if I could set up a meeting with the Communications Department at SCU to see about teaching screenwriting or TV writing as an adjunct professor. I had reached out to my old boss, the head of the Theatre Department. She said that she would set something up for me. This was on a Monday and I was going to be up there on Friday. By Wednesday morning, I hadn't heard anything, so I reached out again. On Thursday night, I got an email that the person who she tried to put me in contact with had a booked schedule on Friday. I had my doubts whether my former boss had reached out when I asked her, but I LET IT GO.
Then I had coffee with a former colleague and we discussed my desire to teach. I thought of reaching out to the Comm Department because maybe I could teach one class in the theatre department and one class in the Comm Department to make it worth my while. He liked that idea and actually confirmed the idea that this person had dropped the ball. Without going into major details about the conversation to protect the identity of the person I had coffee with, an idea sprouted. This person is a person of influence. And he said he'd set up the meetings for me. He then asked me if I would be willing to relocate and how my boyfriend would feel about that. He said that he wanted to find a way to make me a colleague again. This is someone who possibly would have the resources to affect a change and avoid some of the red tape. He's also a person who shared his vision of what the theatre department could be. And that's when I lit up. His vision was about making the theatre education relevant to careers that extend beyond being an actor, writer, performer, director, or technician. Maybe the department tries to see itself and the skills attained through that degree program as applicable to other fields like law, psychology, architecture, PR, speech writing, etc. That's a progressive approach that I would like to be involved in. This conversation was filled with YESes.
Then I came back home. On the night of the Presidential Election (another night of big YESes), my friend Tim suggested that I just write up some syllabi of the courses I would want to teach, in case I was ever asked to present something. This past week I went through the course descriptions and requirements and created four syllabi. I have two other syllabi I could create for courses I could teach. That means I could teach six classes covering both departments. Actually, I just thought of another one. More YESes.
I don't know if teaching is the path. But I like the idea of affecting change using my skills. If that's through teaching and this opportunity, I welcome that. If it's through working in TV and it's a direct way to affect change, I welcome that.
Although, it was interesting to note that my mentor from college said to me at lunch that she had a feeling that I was moving back up to the Bay Area. I'm not sure if she's a clairvoyant, but she's definitely someone in my life who I feel is in touch and in tune with something metaphysical.
In the meantime, I'm being here now.
It started when I got a phone call from some of the male students who were in a study group for their Dramaturgy class. They were all in the Fall show, The Three Muskateers, and asked if I would come see them in the show.
I said YES, I'd try. Then I thought about it some more in the week following. I wanted to see my friend Veronica, who I hadn't seen since May. We had worked together on a project up there. I always stayed with V and her fiancé James. I missed them. And I always worry about my friend V. She's at a crossroads in her life as well, but feeling very stuck. I relate to that. I felt stuck for years before I walked out of my relationship two years ago. I even have given V my copy of Bethenny Frankel's "A Place of Yes" because it had been very helpful for me.
So I reach out to them to see if I could stay with them for the weekend. They said YES.
Then I thought since I was going to be up there and I had been putting out some feelers and looking for teaching jobs, that maybe I could see if I could set up a meeting with the Communications Department at SCU to see about teaching screenwriting or TV writing as an adjunct professor. I had reached out to my old boss, the head of the Theatre Department. She said that she would set something up for me. This was on a Monday and I was going to be up there on Friday. By Wednesday morning, I hadn't heard anything, so I reached out again. On Thursday night, I got an email that the person who she tried to put me in contact with had a booked schedule on Friday. I had my doubts whether my former boss had reached out when I asked her, but I LET IT GO.
Then I had coffee with a former colleague and we discussed my desire to teach. I thought of reaching out to the Comm Department because maybe I could teach one class in the theatre department and one class in the Comm Department to make it worth my while. He liked that idea and actually confirmed the idea that this person had dropped the ball. Without going into major details about the conversation to protect the identity of the person I had coffee with, an idea sprouted. This person is a person of influence. And he said he'd set up the meetings for me. He then asked me if I would be willing to relocate and how my boyfriend would feel about that. He said that he wanted to find a way to make me a colleague again. This is someone who possibly would have the resources to affect a change and avoid some of the red tape. He's also a person who shared his vision of what the theatre department could be. And that's when I lit up. His vision was about making the theatre education relevant to careers that extend beyond being an actor, writer, performer, director, or technician. Maybe the department tries to see itself and the skills attained through that degree program as applicable to other fields like law, psychology, architecture, PR, speech writing, etc. That's a progressive approach that I would like to be involved in. This conversation was filled with YESes.
Then I came back home. On the night of the Presidential Election (another night of big YESes), my friend Tim suggested that I just write up some syllabi of the courses I would want to teach, in case I was ever asked to present something. This past week I went through the course descriptions and requirements and created four syllabi. I have two other syllabi I could create for courses I could teach. That means I could teach six classes covering both departments. Actually, I just thought of another one. More YESes.
I don't know if teaching is the path. But I like the idea of affecting change using my skills. If that's through teaching and this opportunity, I welcome that. If it's through working in TV and it's a direct way to affect change, I welcome that.
Although, it was interesting to note that my mentor from college said to me at lunch that she had a feeling that I was moving back up to the Bay Area. I'm not sure if she's a clairvoyant, but she's definitely someone in my life who I feel is in touch and in tune with something metaphysical.
In the meantime, I'm being here now.
Saying Yes To EXERCISE
I have my routine. I go to the gym on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Then I give myself the weekend to rest. It's my part time job and I'm starting to treat it like work, which is what I'm doing with a lot of things in my life. Since I don't have a formal job I'm getting paid to do right now, I am making as many things that I do a part of my regular schedule. This is to make sure that nothing in my life is just a hobby, but a job.
It's my JOB to work out.
I work out mainly to clear my head. It makes me feel like I'm constantly cycling out the toxins in my body. I'm sweating. I'm LETTING GO of fat. I'm LETTING GO of this idea that I won't have the body that I want, which translates into the falsehood that I can't have the life I want. So I'm practicing the action of putting forward what I want by letting myself have it. Each push up is a YES. Each pull up is a YES. Yesterday my chest said YES over 200 times and my back said YES over 150 times. I'm saying YES to the body I want and the life I want.
YES sounds like a mantra (and YES, it does sound like a mantra). These things help me. Each YES culminates in an action that gets me one step closer to who I want to be. It sounds all new agey and shit, but it works. And it's better than the ways we say no to ourselves countless times without thinking about it. So to counteract that with an intentional YES means that my goals are less and less impossible one YES at a time.
My boyfriend came home from tour a few weeks ago in the middle of the night. It was dark and I was asleep. He hadn't been home in ten days. When he crawled into bed, he grabbed me like he always does. We love to be cuddled up in each other all night long. It's the first time in my life where I have been able to do that. It's a complete surrender--a LETTING GO, if you will. So he comes home and he wakes me up with kisses. Then he feels around and he says that I've been getting more solid and slimming down. In ten days? That seems impossible. But it wasn't because it happened. It reminds me of a Zen saying I'm incredibly fond of. You have to be here now to be there then. That basically means, don't think too far ahead in the future. Just focus on being in the moment because if you focus on that, you'll find yourself at your destination before you know it. Just goes to show how precise the Buddhists are because Be here now so you can be there then covers it much more concisely and articulately.
Even that was a lesson. Just by going to the gym every day, I was saying YES to something. And sometimes I might not even know what I'm saying YES to. I'm just going to the gym and doing my sets and reps. I know exactly what I'm there to do, so I don't have to think about it too much, which means I don't start doubting myself and start stopping myself. I just go from exercise to exercise, a few YESes here and a few YESes there.
When I look at myself in the mirror at the gym I do have a sense of vanity. I like what I see. I like seeing the muscles working and being productive. It's a reflection (pun intended) of my own productivity on a larger scale. Because my boyfriend notices my hard work and my mirror notices my hard work, I feel validated. I feel a sense of purpose. And that sense of validation has made my desire to fool around (totally allowed in my relationship) when my boyfriend is out of town less desirable.
Because I said YES to exercise, I realized that my horniness when my boyfriend was out of town came from a place of needing to be validated. Since my boyfriend wasn't there to tell me how cute I was or to show me affection with a hug or a blow job or my fucking me, I needed to get it by showing off in the showers at the gym or jacking off with a stranger. I would mask the lesson by saying that I needed to get off or I needed some excitement since he was out of town. When I was with my Ex, I would say that I needed to do it because it was a stress reliever because of the turmoil I was dealing with at home. But it all came down to a need to be validated. And once I really started saying YES to exercise, I was validating myself. I didn't need it from an outside source. That's not to say that I won't ever fool around when he's out of town. But it's less motivated by validation or I'm motivated less often by my motivation.
I suppose you could say that I'm just getting older and our libido changes. But even that means that priorities are different and that I'm living with enough experience to finally figure out why certain things bring me pleasure and why certain things in my life have outlived their usefulness.
And if all of that self reflective mumbo jumbo doesn't work, then I can be happy with my bigger chest and bigger arms and flatter tummy. It works on that level too.
It's my JOB to work out.
I work out mainly to clear my head. It makes me feel like I'm constantly cycling out the toxins in my body. I'm sweating. I'm LETTING GO of fat. I'm LETTING GO of this idea that I won't have the body that I want, which translates into the falsehood that I can't have the life I want. So I'm practicing the action of putting forward what I want by letting myself have it. Each push up is a YES. Each pull up is a YES. Yesterday my chest said YES over 200 times and my back said YES over 150 times. I'm saying YES to the body I want and the life I want.
YES sounds like a mantra (and YES, it does sound like a mantra). These things help me. Each YES culminates in an action that gets me one step closer to who I want to be. It sounds all new agey and shit, but it works. And it's better than the ways we say no to ourselves countless times without thinking about it. So to counteract that with an intentional YES means that my goals are less and less impossible one YES at a time.
My boyfriend came home from tour a few weeks ago in the middle of the night. It was dark and I was asleep. He hadn't been home in ten days. When he crawled into bed, he grabbed me like he always does. We love to be cuddled up in each other all night long. It's the first time in my life where I have been able to do that. It's a complete surrender--a LETTING GO, if you will. So he comes home and he wakes me up with kisses. Then he feels around and he says that I've been getting more solid and slimming down. In ten days? That seems impossible. But it wasn't because it happened. It reminds me of a Zen saying I'm incredibly fond of. You have to be here now to be there then. That basically means, don't think too far ahead in the future. Just focus on being in the moment because if you focus on that, you'll find yourself at your destination before you know it. Just goes to show how precise the Buddhists are because Be here now so you can be there then covers it much more concisely and articulately.
Even that was a lesson. Just by going to the gym every day, I was saying YES to something. And sometimes I might not even know what I'm saying YES to. I'm just going to the gym and doing my sets and reps. I know exactly what I'm there to do, so I don't have to think about it too much, which means I don't start doubting myself and start stopping myself. I just go from exercise to exercise, a few YESes here and a few YESes there.
When I look at myself in the mirror at the gym I do have a sense of vanity. I like what I see. I like seeing the muscles working and being productive. It's a reflection (pun intended) of my own productivity on a larger scale. Because my boyfriend notices my hard work and my mirror notices my hard work, I feel validated. I feel a sense of purpose. And that sense of validation has made my desire to fool around (totally allowed in my relationship) when my boyfriend is out of town less desirable.
Because I said YES to exercise, I realized that my horniness when my boyfriend was out of town came from a place of needing to be validated. Since my boyfriend wasn't there to tell me how cute I was or to show me affection with a hug or a blow job or my fucking me, I needed to get it by showing off in the showers at the gym or jacking off with a stranger. I would mask the lesson by saying that I needed to get off or I needed some excitement since he was out of town. When I was with my Ex, I would say that I needed to do it because it was a stress reliever because of the turmoil I was dealing with at home. But it all came down to a need to be validated. And once I really started saying YES to exercise, I was validating myself. I didn't need it from an outside source. That's not to say that I won't ever fool around when he's out of town. But it's less motivated by validation or I'm motivated less often by my motivation.
I suppose you could say that I'm just getting older and our libido changes. But even that means that priorities are different and that I'm living with enough experience to finally figure out why certain things bring me pleasure and why certain things in my life have outlived their usefulness.
And if all of that self reflective mumbo jumbo doesn't work, then I can be happy with my bigger chest and bigger arms and flatter tummy. It works on that level too.
Taking to my blog
When people get depressed or need to reboot, they usually take to their bed. I'm not depressed, but I haven't written on this thing in a month and who knows how long before that. So I'm taking to my blog. It's not that I've intentionally neglected my blog. It's not like a lot of people read it, although I do have some very good and loyal friends who take a look at it.
I'm eating some very salty homemade (from a box) matzo ball soup. Oh, man is this salty! And I'm drinking my detox tea. I have taken my psyllium husk powder already this morning. I tend to go very simple with the food when I'm regrouping. Very bland and light. Cleansing the palate.
Sometimes I ponder the very point of writing this blog. Why do it? I started writing this blog two years ago because I had just gone through a break up and I wanted to document my progress. I feel a lot of pressure to make this blog entertaining instead of just an online journal. Although I feel like the online journaling is really important for me. And my secondary goal is it being entertaining. I've read through past blog posts and some of them are completely composed and "performed." I can see myself deliberately trying to be a good read. Some posts are raw. Some posts are just unformed (like this one, in fact).
I have been busy in the past two months. I'm still umemployed, but somehow I have been busier than ever. It helps pass the time and it means that I'm putting a lot of energy out there in different pots. I'm still in A Place of Yes where I'm accepting what comes my way.
I'm going to have a series of posts called "Saying Yes To...". I'm saying yes to a lot of things lately and those things are making my life quite full. I don't know where it is all leading, but I am saying yes more than anything.
The two mottos I've been living by for the past two years are:
"Say Yes to Everything."
"Let it Go."
It's like an emotional housecleaning. I'm letting go of everything in my life that's not necessary so that I can make room for the things I'm saying yes to.
So here we go...a series of new blog posts. Ready?
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Reflections on a Grey Day in LA
When it's grey in L.A. I sure like it that way
Cause there's way too much sunshine round here
I don't know about you I get so sick of blue skies
Whenever they always appear
And I sure love the sound of the rain pouring down
On my carport roof made out of tin
If there's a flood then there's gonna be mudslides
We all have to pay for our sin
Chorus I
And I suppose that they'll close canyon roads
And the freeways will all start to clog
And the waters will rise and you won't be surprised
When your whole house smells like your wet dog
When it's grey in L.A. it's much better that way
It reminds you that this town's so cruel
Yeah it might feel like fun when you're sportin' sunglasses
But really you're one more fool
And I'm just a chump
And this whole town's a dump
We came out here to dump all our dreams
Of making it big but we're stuck in a sig alert nightmare
That's just how it seems
Chorus II
And I suppose Laurie David sure knows
All those cars we drive heat up our earth
And sea temperatures rise and those constant blue skies
And brush fires can sure curb your mirth
Brad Grey's in L.A. yeah OK I should stay here
There's no place that's better i know
For a wannabe star stuck in a car
On a freeway with nowhere to go
- Grey in LA by Loudon Wainwright III
Cause there's way too much sunshine round here
I don't know about you I get so sick of blue skies
Whenever they always appear
And I sure love the sound of the rain pouring down
On my carport roof made out of tin
If there's a flood then there's gonna be mudslides
We all have to pay for our sin
Chorus I
And I suppose that they'll close canyon roads
And the freeways will all start to clog
And the waters will rise and you won't be surprised
When your whole house smells like your wet dog
When it's grey in L.A. it's much better that way
It reminds you that this town's so cruel
Yeah it might feel like fun when you're sportin' sunglasses
But really you're one more fool
And I'm just a chump
And this whole town's a dump
We came out here to dump all our dreams
Of making it big but we're stuck in a sig alert nightmare
That's just how it seems
Chorus II
And I suppose Laurie David sure knows
All those cars we drive heat up our earth
And sea temperatures rise and those constant blue skies
And brush fires can sure curb your mirth
Brad Grey's in L.A. yeah OK I should stay here
There's no place that's better i know
For a wannabe star stuck in a car
On a freeway with nowhere to go
- Grey in LA by Loudon Wainwright III
That's kind of how I've been feeling lately and this grey day in LA just makes it all the more apparent. I have to proclaim to the world and stop pretending that I've been feeling super motivated. I have not felt motivated at all. All I want to do is work out or look at cute naked guys at the gym.
I have all of these ideas and concepts, but I haven't written properly in a month. Ugh. Yes, my Dad died. That was 12 weeks ago. In my own world view, I should have written a script by now. Channeled all of that energy.
I was incredibly productive when Dad was sick. I wrote two full scripts and a draft of another one.
I guess what this all comes down to is that I really just want to move on with my life. I just want to get it all going already.
The Universe supposedly has these big plans for me, but I'm not feeling motivated enough to reach for them, I suppose.
At first I thought it was because I needed a change of location. I'm dog sitting for two friends in a beautiful house in Hancock Park. That doesn't seem to be working.
I've got my snacks. Healthy ones like hummus and veggies and oatmeal. I've got my naughty ones like root beer.
The words should be flowing freely by now.
I've been watching Netflix here and there. But mainly I've been mourning the fact that I'm not writing. But I'm not diving into any one particular activity to either get me writing or get me distracted from writing. This is not the most fun I've ever had.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Why So Scared?
Writing is the thing I do. So it figures that I should be able to do it well, right?
It's my mission in life, or so I've told myself my whole life. So it should come easy, right?
It shouldn't be so hard to sit down at the computer and do it. But it is. Often. And because I have this expectation that I should be brilliant at the first draft and I should write five to ten scripts a year, I'm constantly in this place where I'm disappointed in myself.
It would be so easy to blame my father for his disapproval. And because he's dead, I think I will.
Okay, I won't. But I do have to change the patterns that allow me to give into that way of thinking.
I'm REALLY trying hard to do that. I've been doing all of this work in that direction for so long.
Another convenient, yet untrue theory: Since my Dad died, karma should be knocking down my door to flood me with good fortune. How I wish that were true.
Yet, I soldier on. I went to the EDD office today to make sure I still qualified for unemployment benefits. I had to listen to a video. I had to make sure I was looking for work constantly. It put me back in touch with the real world. The world where people aren't trying to become writers or actors or musicians. The world where people are chemists and bartenders and clinicians who have worked at their companies for 20 plus years and are now trying to figure out what they're going to do now.
I'm lucky. I've created a life where I still think that the pursuit of my life's dream is important. I'm lucky that I even have a life's dream. So with a life of such luxury, I need to stop complaining and keep writing. Stop being scared.
It's just blood, sweat and tears. What's the big deal?
It's my mission in life, or so I've told myself my whole life. So it should come easy, right?
It shouldn't be so hard to sit down at the computer and do it. But it is. Often. And because I have this expectation that I should be brilliant at the first draft and I should write five to ten scripts a year, I'm constantly in this place where I'm disappointed in myself.
It would be so easy to blame my father for his disapproval. And because he's dead, I think I will.
Okay, I won't. But I do have to change the patterns that allow me to give into that way of thinking.
I'm REALLY trying hard to do that. I've been doing all of this work in that direction for so long.
Another convenient, yet untrue theory: Since my Dad died, karma should be knocking down my door to flood me with good fortune. How I wish that were true.
Yet, I soldier on. I went to the EDD office today to make sure I still qualified for unemployment benefits. I had to listen to a video. I had to make sure I was looking for work constantly. It put me back in touch with the real world. The world where people aren't trying to become writers or actors or musicians. The world where people are chemists and bartenders and clinicians who have worked at their companies for 20 plus years and are now trying to figure out what they're going to do now.
I'm lucky. I've created a life where I still think that the pursuit of my life's dream is important. I'm lucky that I even have a life's dream. So with a life of such luxury, I need to stop complaining and keep writing. Stop being scared.
It's just blood, sweat and tears. What's the big deal?
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
It's Not Easy Bein' Green
I have to admit something that I HATE admitting.
I'm suffering from the case of the envies. Yes, I am all shades of green lately. Kelly, Olive, Forest, Neon, Lime, Grass...I can't shake it.
I have people in my life who are having all sorts of outward success. Working on TV shows, plays being produced, movies being produced, books being published. I suppose most people feel envious at one point or another. But over the past several months that feeling has been in overdrive. And it's ugly so I don't like to admit it that I would stoop to such a basic, regular, everyday, common, human level and feel something like envy. I like to portray strength and above-it-all-ness. I like people to think that I'm way to confident and secure in myself to give into something like envy.
But I do. And I've been suffering from the envies for most of this year.
Part of that started when I really got involved in my Dad's care. I am truly glad that I had the chance to switch gears a little bit and care about something more than just my career. But at the same time, I'm supposed to be a writer. And I don't have a play that's being produced or published or even workshopped. I wrote one play this year that I'm starting to send out. I wrote a spec of GLEE that's already been rejected by one studio for a writer's workshop. I'm waiting to hear about the other two studios who have similar programs. I'm working on this pilot that I'm trying to finish and that doesn't seem to be going anywhere. This is the second pilot in a row that doesn't feel like it's gelling. And I have another idea for a comedy pilot that I want to write. But I want to get this pilot finished before I write that.
Most of my friends tell me that I need to give myself a break and that my Dad just died two months ago. The past year has been about his illness and then his death. People say that it takes a while to recover. But I don't like this place of limbo. Can't my heart healing be a catalyst for great career success? Isn't that the way karma's supposed to work? Shitty thing happens to a person and then they get rewarded in another way? I'm waiting for that windfall.
I don't like being jealous. I should be happy for my friends successes. It's horrible that I'm even admitting this on a blog. But most things are making me jealous these days. Too many things to figure.
But maybe that's forcing the question: What are you going to do about it?
How will this change my approach to my life? It's unfair that I'm not as rich and as established and as successful as I think I should be.
I'm tired of being the poorest person people know.
I need a game changer. Putting that out into the universe.
I"m changing. I can value and appreciate that. But is that happening fast enough?
This would be an example of a blog entry that might just be too honest.
I'm suffering from the case of the envies. Yes, I am all shades of green lately. Kelly, Olive, Forest, Neon, Lime, Grass...I can't shake it.
I have people in my life who are having all sorts of outward success. Working on TV shows, plays being produced, movies being produced, books being published. I suppose most people feel envious at one point or another. But over the past several months that feeling has been in overdrive. And it's ugly so I don't like to admit it that I would stoop to such a basic, regular, everyday, common, human level and feel something like envy. I like to portray strength and above-it-all-ness. I like people to think that I'm way to confident and secure in myself to give into something like envy.
But I do. And I've been suffering from the envies for most of this year.
Part of that started when I really got involved in my Dad's care. I am truly glad that I had the chance to switch gears a little bit and care about something more than just my career. But at the same time, I'm supposed to be a writer. And I don't have a play that's being produced or published or even workshopped. I wrote one play this year that I'm starting to send out. I wrote a spec of GLEE that's already been rejected by one studio for a writer's workshop. I'm waiting to hear about the other two studios who have similar programs. I'm working on this pilot that I'm trying to finish and that doesn't seem to be going anywhere. This is the second pilot in a row that doesn't feel like it's gelling. And I have another idea for a comedy pilot that I want to write. But I want to get this pilot finished before I write that.
Most of my friends tell me that I need to give myself a break and that my Dad just died two months ago. The past year has been about his illness and then his death. People say that it takes a while to recover. But I don't like this place of limbo. Can't my heart healing be a catalyst for great career success? Isn't that the way karma's supposed to work? Shitty thing happens to a person and then they get rewarded in another way? I'm waiting for that windfall.
I don't like being jealous. I should be happy for my friends successes. It's horrible that I'm even admitting this on a blog. But most things are making me jealous these days. Too many things to figure.
But maybe that's forcing the question: What are you going to do about it?
How will this change my approach to my life? It's unfair that I'm not as rich and as established and as successful as I think I should be.
I'm tired of being the poorest person people know.
I need a game changer. Putting that out into the universe.
I"m changing. I can value and appreciate that. But is that happening fast enough?
This would be an example of a blog entry that might just be too honest.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Inside the Writer's Cave
Today I'm in the writer's cave. It's 90 degrees out in the Valley. I have Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations on in the background (currently on pause while I blog). Here's a list of the day's events so far.
7:47 AM: Wake Up
8:02 AM: Brush Teeth
9:55 AM: Have oatmeal for breakfast
10 AM: Start watching NO RESERVATIONS
10:30 AM: Try to write
11:22 AM: Take a shower to wake up
11:39 AM: Start writing new blog entry
These are the sad days of a writer's life. It's beautiful outside. I"m actually hoping my friends return my earlier text and tell me to come over for pool time so I can continue my pattern of avoidance and procrastination. I started the week slow, but by Friday I had 36 pages of my pilot rewrite done.
For the past two days I have been staring at the computer. I have been to the movies. I have been to see my Mom and to a friend's memorial service. I came home yesterday and made some food. I watched some TV and I went to bed. Then I woke up this morning hoping the day would be a bit different. No such luck.
So I'm writing this blog entry as a way to expose my sorry existence as a writer. The loneliness. The desperate need for inspiration. I know that once I leave the house for the day (if I do), then my mojo will be gone. At least that's what I think.
I have three more acts for finsih. Granted, they are small acts. Most likely around 24 pages of material. The problem is that new ideas are already floating around. It's hard to write what you know you have to finish and what you've outlined when the new ideas start making their way into your consciousness.
When people read your work and tell you how much they liked it...this is what goes into it. It's boring and it's torture. Why am I doing this when I could be masturbating or drinking?
7:47 AM: Wake Up
8:02 AM: Brush Teeth
9:55 AM: Have oatmeal for breakfast
10 AM: Start watching NO RESERVATIONS
10:30 AM: Try to write
11:22 AM: Take a shower to wake up
11:39 AM: Start writing new blog entry
These are the sad days of a writer's life. It's beautiful outside. I"m actually hoping my friends return my earlier text and tell me to come over for pool time so I can continue my pattern of avoidance and procrastination. I started the week slow, but by Friday I had 36 pages of my pilot rewrite done.
For the past two days I have been staring at the computer. I have been to the movies. I have been to see my Mom and to a friend's memorial service. I came home yesterday and made some food. I watched some TV and I went to bed. Then I woke up this morning hoping the day would be a bit different. No such luck.
So I'm writing this blog entry as a way to expose my sorry existence as a writer. The loneliness. The desperate need for inspiration. I know that once I leave the house for the day (if I do), then my mojo will be gone. At least that's what I think.
I have three more acts for finsih. Granted, they are small acts. Most likely around 24 pages of material. The problem is that new ideas are already floating around. It's hard to write what you know you have to finish and what you've outlined when the new ideas start making their way into your consciousness.
When people read your work and tell you how much they liked it...this is what goes into it. It's boring and it's torture. Why am I doing this when I could be masturbating or drinking?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
In Memoriam
This afternoon I attended a Celebration of Life party for a dear friend of mine and someone I used to work for. I was a little hesitant about going. The beach traffic heading to Santa Monica was going to be a bear! Well, that's true too. But the real reason I was a little worried was because I've been crying all week about my Dad and we never did a service for him, per his request. But what I heard was beautiful and touching.
I heard the story of a man who loved his wife. A couple who was so united in their love for each other that it touched everyone who was in their presence. Every wonderful thing said about my friend Mary could be said about her husband Ken. To be around them was to be filled with love.
These two people were so instrumental to my growth. When I started working for them, I was recently out of my past relationship. I had no idea how much it had affected me. I was battered and bruised, not only from my relationship with my Ex, but from my relationship with my Ex Boss. I was emotionally drained from taking care of those two men for several years.
But they brought me into their inner circle. They trusted me. They praised me and thought I was pretty terrific.And they let me know it. I needed to know my value because I hadn't yet discovered it. That laid the groundwork for a lot of healing for me. But it also gave me the confidence to go teach when I was asked to do that. And it let me know that someone praising me and telling me how much they appreciate me is a good thing. Now I have a boyfriend who does that.
So I really owe them a lot. And being surrounded by people who feel the exact same way about them as I feel about them was terrific. Even though Mary has now passed, you can't think of Mary without thinking about Ken. They were such a powerful force.
One of the actors who worked on the pilot that I worked on with them talked about the lunches they'd share together because they always ran to the same supermarket at lunch time.
Someone talked about Mary encouraging her to write and telling this woman to just "bang it out." Just get the draft done because there will always be time to rewrite.
Someone else talked about how not into organized religion she was and that reminded me of my Dad because they were so full of spirit and generosity without subscribing to any dogma.
And everyone talked about her laugh. Her infectious laugh that just told you everything about her: she didn't take it all too seriously, she had a great sense of humor and that laugh came from a very deep place that was one hundred percent certain about being happy.
She was one amazing woman.
I heard the story of a man who loved his wife. A couple who was so united in their love for each other that it touched everyone who was in their presence. Every wonderful thing said about my friend Mary could be said about her husband Ken. To be around them was to be filled with love.
These two people were so instrumental to my growth. When I started working for them, I was recently out of my past relationship. I had no idea how much it had affected me. I was battered and bruised, not only from my relationship with my Ex, but from my relationship with my Ex Boss. I was emotionally drained from taking care of those two men for several years.
But they brought me into their inner circle. They trusted me. They praised me and thought I was pretty terrific.And they let me know it. I needed to know my value because I hadn't yet discovered it. That laid the groundwork for a lot of healing for me. But it also gave me the confidence to go teach when I was asked to do that. And it let me know that someone praising me and telling me how much they appreciate me is a good thing. Now I have a boyfriend who does that.
So I really owe them a lot. And being surrounded by people who feel the exact same way about them as I feel about them was terrific. Even though Mary has now passed, you can't think of Mary without thinking about Ken. They were such a powerful force.
One of the actors who worked on the pilot that I worked on with them talked about the lunches they'd share together because they always ran to the same supermarket at lunch time.
Someone talked about Mary encouraging her to write and telling this woman to just "bang it out." Just get the draft done because there will always be time to rewrite.
Someone else talked about how not into organized religion she was and that reminded me of my Dad because they were so full of spirit and generosity without subscribing to any dogma.
And everyone talked about her laugh. Her infectious laugh that just told you everything about her: she didn't take it all too seriously, she had a great sense of humor and that laugh came from a very deep place that was one hundred percent certain about being happy.
She was one amazing woman.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Tribute
When my Dad was dying, we had a conversation. Actually, I talked because he wasn't able to talk any more. I told him that I was going to fulfill the potential I knew I had and he knew I had. I admitted that I probably had, on some subconscious level, held back. I have this habit of deferring to men who represent some sort of father figure.
I've been on this cleanse for the past week. I'm taking off weight. I'm exercising and watching what I eat. This has been the easiest cleanse of the one I completed, plus the two that I did half-assed. And I realized that I'm sticking to it because of my Dad. I have Congestive Heart Failure in my family. I don't want to die prematurely because I didn't take care of myself. Being healthy has very little to do with vanity, even though I check my stomach every day to see if I've lost any weight. It has to do with living my potential. I should be fit my whole life.
I should write every day. I should be making money full time as a writer. So that's the next step. If my Dad not living up to his potential is a motivating force for me in terms of my diet, it should also be a motivating force for me in terms of my ambition. I'm still young, a fact I seem to forget. I'm spirited, energetic, and baby-faced.
I have been the most productive this year out of any in my life. And I need to continue that high level of productivity and get shit done. I have a destiny to catch up to.
I'm not going to watch the writing credits of TV shows with any sort of jealousy. I'm going to step up and stand in the place I deserve to stand in. Enough of this struggling thing because I think I have to continue to struggle to make the journey meaningful. I entered this world struggling. I've struggled enough. My Dad struggled enough for me already. It's time to take my rightful place in the life I should be living.
I've been on this cleanse for the past week. I'm taking off weight. I'm exercising and watching what I eat. This has been the easiest cleanse of the one I completed, plus the two that I did half-assed. And I realized that I'm sticking to it because of my Dad. I have Congestive Heart Failure in my family. I don't want to die prematurely because I didn't take care of myself. Being healthy has very little to do with vanity, even though I check my stomach every day to see if I've lost any weight. It has to do with living my potential. I should be fit my whole life.
I should write every day. I should be making money full time as a writer. So that's the next step. If my Dad not living up to his potential is a motivating force for me in terms of my diet, it should also be a motivating force for me in terms of my ambition. I'm still young, a fact I seem to forget. I'm spirited, energetic, and baby-faced.
I have been the most productive this year out of any in my life. And I need to continue that high level of productivity and get shit done. I have a destiny to catch up to.
I'm not going to watch the writing credits of TV shows with any sort of jealousy. I'm going to step up and stand in the place I deserve to stand in. Enough of this struggling thing because I think I have to continue to struggle to make the journey meaningful. I entered this world struggling. I've struggled enough. My Dad struggled enough for me already. It's time to take my rightful place in the life I should be living.
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