Year One

What a difference a year makes......

     You know, for the last few weeks I've been thinking about this post. Thinking about how I was going to sum up this year. How I would remanence over just how life changing this year has been. And now that I'm actually sitting here and typing.....I've got nothing.  All this time I wanted for this to be this big epic thing about how far I've come. But now all I can think about is where I'm going. 

I'm getting ahead of myself, let's start from the beginning....

     On the morning of July 4th, 2014, my dad and I loaded up my car with everything I own, and set out on the most significant road trip I'd ever take. We landed the next night, I started working 2 days later, and had my own apartment by the end of the week. It was a lot all at once, and to this day I have absolutely no idea how I did it. That first job took me until February the following year, and by the end of it all I could think about was changing careers. For the next couple of months I worked a few different jobs here and there, had some big interviews, and constantly contemplated moving back home. Thank God I didn't.

     I've learned so so much about myself over this past year. A ridiculous amount, to be honest. It has led me to question everything I ever thought I knew. And if it seems like I've left a lot out of this post, well, I have. Very recently I realized that my life is ahead of me, and what's behind me is there for a reason. And with that being said, I have an announcement to make:

I have just accepted my first writing job. I'll be serving as an Associate Producer on a documentary crime series (think Forensic Files). And this September, I will officially be moving New Orleans.

My oh my, what a difference a year makes.

Week 50/51

Monday June 15th, 2015:

• Must clean, Rachel's coming tomorrow.....Eh, I've got all day.
• Oh hey, Hannah's back in town....oh, she's on her way over. WHERE"S THE VACCUM?!
• Phew, that was close. Ok this should be fun. Wait, are we watching Game of Thrones. Oh God. Oh no. Not again....
• <uncontrollable sobbing>
• I'll set my alarm for 7am. That should give me plenty of time to beat traffic, right?

Tuesday June 16th, 2015:

• It was absolutely NOT enough time to beat traffic.
• I think that dead cat on the side of the highway is moving faster than me right now.
• SHE'S HERE! God I hope my liver is ready for this.
• GO WARRIORS!!!

Wednesday June 17th, 2015:

• Glad it's not a scorcher for our beach day.
• HOLY DICK AND BALLS THIS WATER IS COLD!!!!!
• I think maybe I'll just lay here for awhile.
• What do you mean you want me to work tomorrow?!
• You're going to pay me how much???....I can start right now if you need me to.
• Maybe just one more quick swim now that the sun is out.
• I IMMEDIATELY REGRET MY DECISION!
• She's putting shrimp in a cream sauce on top of a steak. I think this is the "Catch a Husband" recipe.
• Susan and Courtney have an interesting conversation after a few glasses (read: bottles) of wine.

Thursday June 18th, 2015:

• LET'S MAKE A DEAL!!!
• This is LITERALLY a test of stamina and sheer will power.
• Wayne Brady smells of manliness and rich mahogany.
• I seriously think I lost about 10 pounds and came very close to heat stroke during that taping.
• Now for some location scouting. Which for this company means find and lock down 3 different locations in one day with no money. Absolutely no reason to panic.

Friday June 19th, 2015:

• PANIC!
• I can now say that I know how it feels to be told to fuck off by multiple business owners.
• Huh...apparently all we had to do this whole time was give these people money. Who knew?
• Time to celebrate. 
• Hannah's even coming out with us. Oh yeah, tonight we're going HARD!
• Sure is crowded in this bar. I just need a couple drinks to get it started.
• Boy this music is loud. People are dancing so fast. The seats in the VIP section sure do look comfortable.
• Maybe we should just sit down for bit. I can't wait to get home and finish watching Orange is the New Black.
• Oh my God we're old. So old. So very fucking old.

Saturday June 20th, 2015:

• Can we just take a moment and think about last night.
• On second thought, I don't want to talk about it. 
• Rachel is cooking again. I wonder if I can live with her and her future husband so that I can eat like this everyday.
• Seriously, I'll bunk in the attic/basement. I mean do you see this shit?! Look at the picture! LOOK AT IT!!!
• Time to take Rachel's Star Wars virginity. I solemnly swear that she will know that HAN SHOT FIRST.

Sunday June 21st, 2015:

• Rachel's last day. Sad day. I'll never eat this good again.

The next week.

     I'm an AP again. I forgot how nice it is to be on the producer side of the line. Good money. No taking lunch orders for ungrateful cast and crew. No cleaning up behind everyone else. Just story. I need more of this. If I want to survive that is.

I Can't Sleep

I think I want to write a book.

That's probably just because I've been reading a lot lately. A trend that I hope keeps up, but probably won't.

Still though. I wonder what my book would be about?

I remember learning that you should write what you know. But what do I know?

I know how to struggle with writing. Maybe I could write about a writer who's struggling to write.

But what's the end goal? Why would that be interesting?

Maybe he witnesses a murder, and now he's swept up in solving the case? Sounds a bit Gillian Flynn-esque.  Plus, I don't know anything about solving murders. All the cops on TV usually do it in 44 minutes or less. I betting there's more to it than that.

So then what would I write about? How much I miss home?

I miss having seasons. Not this season. St. Louis can keep that humid shit. But the smell of fall, discolored leaves strewn about, the feel of winter on the horizon; there's nothing like that.

I think about home a lot lately. I think it's human nature to crave the familiar when faced with so much uncertainty.

Maybe I could write about home? There once was a writer in St. Louis. He wrote and wrote until he couldn't write anymore. Then, one day he looked around and realized he was still in St. Louis, and he killed himself. Not exactly a feel good ending.

Who am I kidding, I could never write a book. Books are big. Too big. I can't write a book. I can't seem to write anything anymore. I sit at this computer and I try and try to make words come out. But I've been dry for over a year now. I tell people I'm still writing, but it's a lie. I just can't seem to do it. I have an idea. I try to work it out, but eventually I find more reason to abandon it than to try to work it out. And yet I still claim to want to be a television writer. That's funny.

I can't even get a real television job, just more and more of this reality bullshit that has oversaturated the airways.

Everyone else seems to be working towards there dreams. I don't even know how to work towards mine. All of my work is taking me in the wrong direction. And it's damn near impossible to change the direction. It's not like a car that can turn and reverse on command. It's more like I'm floating through space, with no power to do anything to stop my current course. I just have keep floating and hope that something or someone comes along and bumps me in the way I need to go. But I'm low on oxygen.

Week 49

Once again.....I got nothing.......

     I ordered this food at 6:30 and scheduled the pick up for 8, so why is it 8:32 and I'm still standing at this fucking counter? What's the point of ordering it an hour and a half early if it's still going to take me 30 minutes at the restaurant? Why am I paying for this food? It's not special. It's not unique. I can buy this in any city in America. So why put up with this? Why pay the inflated price for this? Why pay the inflated price of anything here? Why am I paying an arm and a leg for a little pink room in the valley? Why am I paying 9% sales tax on all my groceries and essentials? Why do I sit in hours of traffic everyday? Why am I even trying with these girls? Why am I still working as a freelancer? Why do I feel that being drunk, alone in my apartment is better than being sober, alone in my apartment? Why am I living here?

     Leave it to our generation to create a way to streamline the shallow judgement of our peers. I hate Tinder. By downloading this app we're giving permission to any stranger with access to WiFi to pass judgment on our humanity on the basis of a profile picture. So why do we do it? Because we all want to be loved. We all want to believe that we'll be that one that someone will see and want desperately to sleep with us. This isn't really any different from our regular day to day, now there's just a specific arena for it. I still have the app. I don't know why. Well, yes I do. But I'm not happy about it. 

     The worst part about trying to go on a diet? The cravings. The random desires for things that you're not allowed to have. It sucks. Right now it's wine and chocolate. Usually it's love and stability. And on the occasion it's happiness and fulfillment. I think I've mostly given up on most of these things. Now if I can just get the food under control. Probably not, but who knows.

"Black people have no business being black and expecting anything other than persecution and harassment from citizens and police alike." - America 

Week 48

Part 2.

     Beaches. The beach. Within minutes I could be at the beach. Well you know, depending on the traffic, but you get what I mean. On any given day I can head out from my apartment and be inches away from the ocean within minutes. Perhaps that's why people so willingly pay ridiculously high rent to live here? Or maybe it's because you could leave the beach, drive for 2 hours, and be in the snow filled mountains? Or, perhaps, maybe it's because this is where the stars live, and everyone wants to be a star.

     I think the main reason that people come here in the first place is that this is where "dreams come true." At least that's been the belief for as long as anyone can remember. Young actors and actresses flock to the Hollywood hills in hopes of being discovered in whatever restaurant they're currently serving in, and moving into the 90210 area code. The same can be said for those who dream of working behind the camera as well. After all, why else would I be here? I came here to follow a dream, and leaving means giving up. And I don't want to give up. Not again.

     Truth is, I came here 11 months ago because I was unhappy and unable to do what I wanted to do in St. Louis. For years I was told that this is where I had to be, just to have a shot. So after many ups and downs, I finally made it out here. And I think it would be a shame, if I didn't stick it out as long as possible to make things work. That's why I want to stay.

Week 47

Part 1.

     Pictures. Pictures of a friend. A friend celebrating her birthday. Celebrating her birthday with more of your friends. Some times that's all it takes. One second you're sitting in your San Fernando Valley apartment, and the next you're longing your old neighborhood in North County St. Louis. Mind you, this isn't the first time I've wanted to go home since coming here, but it was the first time I was able to visualize it. Does that make sense?

     I don't really want to go back. I mean I do, but I don't. I know I could never really be happy back home. I never was before. But if I did go back, I'd have all of my family. I could have a job. Not one that I like, but how would that be any different from now? I'd have MUCH cheaper rent. And MUCH cheaper food and gas. And I'd have girls that would actually take a second to consider me before out right rejecting. But most of all, I'd have my friends. People who actually call and text me to hang out. People who actually give a shit. Going back my not be all that bad.

     I know most of this has just manifested from my fear of being alone. I mean, it's scary out here. So far I haven't done anything to make me not feel like a failure. So a big part of me wants to go home. I want to be surrounded by people who love me. I want to be somewhere where the world makes sense. I want to be somewhere where it feels like I know what I'm doing. That's why I want to go back.

Week 46

Been trying like hell to come up with a theme for this week's blog and, so far, I've got nothing. So here goes nothing...

     Friends. Friends are good. No. Friends are GREAT. Even the bad friends are great. They allow for us to truly appreciate the good friends. I saw a good friend this week, and although it had been 4-5 years since I've seen her, our friendship never skipped a beat. We ate, and drank, and talked, and laughed. And best of all, we remembered. We remembered all of the things that made us friends and celebrated them as best we could. I found myself feeling sad that our lives have taken us to opposite ends of the country, but so incredibly happy to see how far she's come. She tells me I have a good heart, and I secretly hope she's right. I missed her before I even dropped her off.

     I think one of the scariest things imaginable is the thought that we only have the ability to make something of ourselves. I have no idea how to.....do anything. No, that's not it. Not what I meant. What I mean to say is, my dreams follow a specific path, but there's no direct way to get onto that path. Everyone seems to have their ideas for what I should do, but none of it has seemed right. None of it has felt right. I think maybe I need to give up on my current dreams. Or alter them. Though altering them is pretty much giving up on them. I just don't know what to do. What I should do. Where do I go from here? What happens next? 

     Been thinking. About a lot. Things like life, and love, and moving to Chicago. Loneliness gives one lots of time to think. Too much time. All I ever seem to think is about how I need to do better. Write more. Be skinnier. Make more money. My mind is cruel, and I wish I knew how to fix it. I guess that's just one more way I need to be better.