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?

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

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.

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 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.

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?

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.

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.