Pretzel Napping

"Well, this doesn't look comfortable to my mother, especially since there's an entire crib to spread out in.  But I'm asleep and seem to be digging it all wedged up against the crib's side so Pretzel Nap it is!"

Riveting Post Here!

"Mommy and Daddy sometimes let me take an improvised nap on the floor because when I nap more than thirty minutes in my cozy crib I have a tendency to stay up til midnight.  They're idiots though because I like to stay up til midnight no matter what they attempt in controlling my sleep habits!  I won't be tamed!  I'm loved regardless."

If you asked my old talent agent, Peter, why I haven't been blogging nearly as much as I used to he would respond with, "I don't know what to tell you... (insert long pause here)...I really don't."

I had asked him what I could do to increase my chances in auditioning more -- back when I dabbled with auditioning in Chicago -- and that was his answer.  That he didn't know.  He didn't seem to be in a very good place though.  I'm sure he was wondering what he was doing as a talent agent in Chicago at the time because shortly thereafter he quit and moved on to something else.  I don't know what, only that I saw him on the el train headed back up north after a day downtown.

I was so pissed when he replied with that "I don't know what to tell you" BS... but I quote him constantly.  And that's the only reply I have to not blogging.  I just don't know what to tell you other than I am utterly consumed with writing this 300 pages or so fictional book.  And right now I am avoiding that endeavor as if it is the plague so now I can blog.  Lucky you!

Here are random bits I have to share.  It's focused on life in California for those of you don't live elsewhere, mainly back home in the Midwest.

1.  I cannot tell you how many cars in L.A. fall under the category of luxury vehicle.  It is insane.  Yesterday, I counted at least three corvettes as I drove to my casting office gig.  Then I counted about a thousand Audis, BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars, Bentleys, Rolls Royces and Lexus (how do you pluralize Mercedes and Lexus? Huh.)  Now I'm not from rural Dakota-- I am accustomed to nice cars.  But nothing prepares you for the wealth driving around L.A. except a summer spent in the Hamptons I imagine.  It's nutso.

2.  I cannot tell you how mini Mini Me from the Austin Powers movies is in real life.  He is smaller than The Boy.  And he's also got the acting resume that rivals DeNiro, Pacino and Clooney combined.  Talk about finding your niche.

3.  I cannot tell you how one stays living in L.A. knowing full well an earthquake could hit at any point. I'm living on a damn fault line for god's sake!

4.  I cannot tell you how I will have health insurance in a year.

5.  I cannot tell you if this book I'm writing will get published.  I get pretty sick of it and if I am there's a good chance a publisher will too.

Here's what I can tell you-- No matter what happens I wouldn't trade moving out here for anything.  I've learned so much about myself, showbiz, my relationships with others and life in general simply from taking a HUGE leap of faith and relocating to L.A.  It's not easy (and by that I mean OH MY GOD THIS IS NOT EASY!) but we did what our guts told us we needed to do to make dreams come true.  I don't always sleep well at night but that's more with worrying about an earthquake as opposed to the choice we've made.  And that feels good.

Take that old talent agent, Peter.  If he could see that awkward and naive young actor now... (well, I don't think he'd have much of an opinion in all honesty, but you see where I'm going with this).

Okay, back to work!

Just The Facts

Mr. Jarcy play-doh cat originals.  Circa February 2011, commissioned by The Boy

So yesterday I kinda got my credit and debit cards stolen.  By kinda I mean I did.  Then "I" went to the nearest Target store and bought a $900 iPad.  By "I" I mean a man impersonating me.

Let me explain further...

I went to my Starbuck's.  The place I consider my office and am most creative.  It's a fun place.  I see a variety of the same familiar faces, some famous, some not at all famous and many aspiring to be famous (that last part is a guess but you'd agree if you saw them).

Which brings me to the man sitting behind me yesterday.

You see, he didn't necessarily strike me as the grande carmel macchiato type.  Or even just a straight on venti bold roast type.  He was more of the borderline heroin addict type.  That's not to say heroin addicts don't hang out at Starbuck's, but I remember having this initial reaction to him of "Huh, he seems out of place."

And then I told myself to not be judgmental, took a seat near him and --wait for it-- OPENED MY BAG BIG AND WIDE SO THAT HE COULD STEAL MY CREDIT AND DEBIT CARDS OUT OF MY WALLET!!!

Sigh...

He was oh so friendly to me before, during and after that breach in proper behavior though.  He even gave me his seat near the wall so that my computer could be plugged in and wished me a good rest of my day.

BECAUSE HE KNEW I WASN'T GONNA HAVE A GOOD REST OF MY DAY!

An hour later my bank calls to see if I meant to purchase the $961 from Target.  I say "No, lemme get my cards out."  And the cards are, OF COURSE, gone.  As I continue to talk to the bank rep I begin to get real, real, real paranoid that it was someone who's still somewhere around me.  Or the man calling from New York state as a bank representative.  I begin asking him bizarre questions like "Who is this really?"  Yes, I really did.  Then I tell the writer who is sitting behind me now the whole story --and who I see in Starbuck's daily-- and out of nowhere say to him, "You didn't steal my cards...did you?"  If an adorable kitten had tottled in the store I would have suspected her too.

I ran home and cancelled all my cards.  And then freaked out more.

Which brings me to the Van Nuys Police Department.  Let me start off by saying the officers were very kind.  Let me finish by saying YOU DON'T WANT TO SPEND YOUR FRIDAY NIGHT AT THE VAN NUYS POLICE DEPARTMENT.  Many criminals gettin sprung right before the weekend when I imagined they would be partaking in more illegal activity and finding their way back to jail.  Much like a homing pigeon-- released out into the wild, does his job then comes right back to roost and rest up for his next journey out.  My favorite criminal was the man who very nonchalantly announced to whoever he was talking to on the phone, "Yeah man, it's me.  So I just got out of jail.  Yeah, just now.  Hey, how are you?"  He said it like I would tell a friend after leaving a yoga class.  Almost zen and carefree like.  By almost I mean completely.

By the end of the day I was exhausted.  And still paranoid.  I asked Mr. Jarcy, "Are you somehow behind this?  Did you hire a 'hit' on me just so I'd curb my spending habits?  I'm not convinced your clean."  I was joking, of course.  I think.  It DEFINITELY could have been worse.  My boys are safe, I am safe and now I have to blog BECAUSE I CAN'T SHOP FOR A HUMIDIFIER ONLINE!

Damn You, 98! (Keep Going)

"My mother fancies herself an author.   That's fine but she better keep careful watch.  I'm likely to jump out this window as one of my many daredevil tricks if she's not watching with BOTH eyes at all times."  

So I have written 98 pages to my first novel.  That's right, I said first novel.  I've got big plans because I really don't want to work in an office again unless I've exhausted all creative employement attempts first.  Here's what I can tell you--  If you find yourself getting to 50 pages or so written of a book, then you might as well keep on going until you reach somewhere around 300.  That's my well thought out plan anyway.  And, no, it's not taking in all the other steps one must pass through to become a published author.  If I thought of all that I'd never get past page 1.

I have been toiling away (er, by toiling I mean writing) this week, slowly but surely increasing my page count and yet seem to be stuck under the 100 mark.  This flirtation with 100 has to end as of tomorrow!  It must.  I can't take it.  It's time for 100 to give up his goods to me.

For some reason I had the thought that I could DOUBLE my pages by the end of the week.  This notion proves how naive and ridiculous I still am, even at the mature age of (insert old lady age here).  Hilarious.

The Boy's Birthday Gathering Almost Two Weeks Ago..

ME:  Honey, we're gonna sing Happy Birthday to you inside!

BOY:  No.

ME:  But Mommy brought cupcakes!  Don't you want a cupcake?

BOY:  Mommy?

ME:  Yes?

BOY:  Look!  Dinosaurs!  

ME:  Yes, you have dinosaurs.

BOY:  A PINK dinosaur!  A GREEN dinosaur!

ME:  Okay, I'll come back...

ME:  Honey, all the other kids are eating cupcakes now.  Wanna come in for a cupcake?

BOY:  No.

ME:  Are you sure?  Mommy would like to go inside and eat a cupcake too!  Or perhaps several.

BOY:  Mommy?

ME:  Yes?

BOY:  Mommy!  I drive!

ME:  Yes, you're driving the, er, swing set, aren't you? 

BOY:  Mommy, dinosaur!

ME:  Okay, I'll come back...

BOY:  Mommy?
ME:  Yes?
BOY:  Mommy!  A CUP CAKE!

Buried

My loved ones back in Chicago are digging themselves out of the Great Blizzard of 2011.  I am nowhere near Chicago but digging in similar fashion.

I seem to have become buried under my belongings.  And thoughts.  And addiction to buying my child everything I see.

I could give explanation to the above statement but let's give a shorthand version--
Mr. Jarcy went away for a long time for work back in January and it has been very difficult for me to get back into the writing swing. I'm battling thoughts like, "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!  WHY AM I SPENDING SO MUCH TIME WRITING THIS NOVEL WHEN I WILL THEN HAVE TO WORK MY ASS OFF TO GET IT PUBLISHED AND EVEN THEN PROBABLY ONLY GET $10,000 FOR ALL MY HARD WORK!!!???!?!?!"

You know, I should probably just stop with the explanation right there.

You may have noticed I'm not blogging nearly as much as well.  I start to type something and then battle thoughts like, "WHY AM I SPENDING SO MUCH TIME WRITING THIS BLOG WHEN JUST ABOUT EVERYONE ON THE PLANET EXPERIENCES THE SAME THINGS AT SOME POINT ALONG THE LINE AND THEY REALLY DON'T NEED MY PLAY BY PLAY OF THE VERY NORMAL, DAILY OCCURRENCES NOW DO THEY REALLY????!!!!?"

So, uh, yeah...that explanation probably just stands on its own as well.

Suffice it to say, the inner turmoil documented above then leads to one predominant thought which is, "YOU BETTER GET MOVING ON THIS WRITING, WOMAN, BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T YOU'RE WASTING THIS PERFECTLY GREAT OPPORTUNITY YOU HAVE LIVING OUT HERE NOW AND WHILE YOUR CHILD IS SMALL AND LIFE ISN'T ALL THAT COMPLICATED BESIDES YOU MOVED FAR, FAR, FAR AWAY FROM YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AND YOU DON'T WANT TO HAVE DONE THAT JUST SO YOU COULD GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS AND MIMIC A SLUG ON YOUR IKEA SOFA NOW DO YOU??????!!!?!?!!!!!"

I better just keep shoveling.

12:26 AM, Take Three

This Boy is now officially two years old.  Two.  TWO!  Can you believe it?  I can't.  It feels like he's been around forever and so much has changed since his birth that I'm like, "He's only two?"  Then I look at him again and think, "My baby is now two?  How did that happen?"

It's all very strange.

Now he looks like this...

Unbelievable.  

Happy Birthday, Boy!!!  We love you!