On days like today I get really down on myself. I get depressed, and defeatist, and I just sit and do nothing because I am too overwhelmed to focus on anything. Anxiety about career, life, past, present, future, and more than anything money. It keeps me up too late, only to make me wake up with stress over and over again some nights. There is nothing glamorous about the days in between making something out here.
On days like today I waste time, because I shut down. Nothing can shut me down faster and harder than money. Money I don't have, money I don't know how to get, and worst of all money I owe. LA is a vortex that money is swallowed down, fast and constantly. Rent is higher than most places, jobs are just as competitive to land as an audition, and like most films you usually have an in if you know someone already on board.
I came to LA with an umbrella to shield myself from rainy days like these. I became a Massage Therapist. Flexible hours, good pay, and when I worked at The Beverly Hilton for 2 years I did some films, just got my shifts covered. It was a great set up, I was surviving even if I was thriving. Then LA reminded me how the country was having some money troubles, and the entire Spa was laid off.
Since then I suppose I've been flopping around like a fish out of water, and things sure have been dry. Some odd jobs here and there, but I can't get caught up. My move to LA still haunts my credit history, now I have to pick and choose what bills of mine I can pick at after rent and utilities are paid, which is hard enough to scrape together. Sometimes I say to myself: "It's just money, not happiness." But it's also the way to live life with your friends and family. You miss out when you can't afford things, and you piss off people when you owe them money.
Mental and emotional stability are a delicate balance just like chemistry to an artist. A crushing heartbreak gives you Adele's "21" album. It's usually an inspiration out of love, lust, despair, regret, or any other numerous powerful emotional experience that great, unforgettable things are made from. Too little of any of these things can lead to stagnancy and boredom, which can murder creativity in the face. Too much, and people can be pushed over the edge and go hysterical or even catatonic from emotional overload. I've seen and lived both sides, and that happy medium where you are inspired but content is usually only felt in transition between the two. I'm not saying my outlook is entirely a pessimistic one, I count my blessings on the daily. I am jaded by my struggle and sore from the seemingly never ending uphill struggle, but I'm early in this industry and life.
You are out here selling yourself, your mind, body, and often soul. When it isn't making you the millions you feel you're worth it is easy to fall into a state of fear and doubt. Maybe I'm in the red, maybe it's crazy and I wake up in my bed panicked, but I'm waking up in my bed in Los Angeles, CA where I've moved to pursue my dreams. Sometimes I make big strides to those dreams, sometimes baby-steps, and most gloomy days I feel like I'm completely still (or think about a movie I did that felt like a big step backwards). No matter which way or how fast I move, those are my footprints. Dues are being paid in full, if only rent could be too right now.
The story of a well fed, starving artist.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Back to One
We've already talked about the wonders of craigslist findings! You can find the occasional acting gig on it, I know I found my first one there. It was a mere two months after moving out here. I landed a great job as a Massage Therapist (yes I went to school for that in hopes of using it one day in LA) at The Beverly Hilton, and another job as a weekend graveyard concierge at a fancy apartment complex in Westwood. I was kicking my ass trying to make my atrocious $850 a month for rent in my shitty Bachelor Studio, plus all of my bills. I was not making it, and my credit cards were maxing out and then not being paid off.
I was optimistic though. I was working really hard over the weekends, doing the graveyard shifts two nights, then heading straight down the road to The Hilton right after my Saturday night shift on Sunday morning to nap on the table until I had a massage. Even though this routine wore me down, and my two cats started going in heat around that time, and I had NO money to take them to the vet and fix that yet, I had my weekdays wide open. I could surf the internet and submit with my extremely amateur headshots I had at the time, and I was going to Second City for classes twice a week!
I used to remember what I was doing and where I was when I got the call for this "audition". I no longer can recall those details, but I remember driving straight to that warehouse in Downtown LA to meet with a man I would work with several more times, he was the UPM (unit production manager) named Michael. He had me wait upstairs where there were a bunch of people stretching and pairing off to do staged fighting routines. Now as Unit Production Manager, Michael should not have been able to cast me right then and there, but on this film he could. And he did. So, because I was tall, and my fight partner was tall, I was cast.
My partner was someone that I would know for quite a while longer, Hudson. He was became my first real friend out here, and we hung out all the time. We also both went to these unpaid, daily fight rehearsals, none the wiser that it shouldn't really work like that. It was weeks, without a script, without any idea really what this movie was about. Hudson even got to come up with the fight moves! We had a martial art instructor who was the lead of the movie come and guide us, but overall two inexperienced actors in film and fighting were sent to do their own thing.
Finally I find out some info about the movie. Again, I can't remember what it was originally called, but I remember finding out that the Director, a former Argentinian rocker, was telling us all we'd be on HBO. We couldn't believe it were pumped, and we shouldn't have. He believed that because his last film was on HBO, unbeknownst to us it was porn. This was not a porn we were assured, there would be some topless nudity, but we didn't need to worry about it. The group of women I was with were all assassins from the future you see, and he already had some topless sex scenes when he originally tried to film this movie in Europe previously.
There was some mysterious producer named Pablo that was always on the phone fighting with the Director. He was a quiet man with a baseball hat, and long coat on at all times. He was from Argentina, but his accent seemed Eastern European. He spoke fine English, but what couldn't translate to him was how film sets were run in the United States. All of us, so green and almost everyone making their film debut in this feature, had no idea that when our call time was 3pm to be on set and he didn't walk in til 8pm that was a bad thing. He was always late, and most of us just laid around and then were sent home in our black tights and corsets, that we were made to purchase ourselves.
One day I was lounging about in the warehouse, I'm going to call this my most important day on any set to date. There I was in my corset and tights wielding my katana when the production designer (person in charge of making all the sets and in this case handle all of the props) walked to the room about to be shot, very frazzled. I walked up to him and said: "Hey, let me know if you need any help with anything."
Three years later he still lets me know when he needs help, as a matter of fact he lets me know just about everything because he is my very best friend and collaborator, someone that I trust the input and value the opinion of on everything in my life. Paul Bianchi had moved to Los Angeles nearly a year before me, and was a budding writer and production designer. He was fairly green to film as well, but so incredibly talented at making something from nothing, and boy on this set was there a whole lot of nothing for him to pull from.
We all began to slowly realize that this film was all over the place. Milos changed the story again, not rewrites...THE ENTIRE STORY. The one day we did film and I got a little bit of screen time he had us walk in these stupid hooker boots and he used this crane to get the four of us coming toward him. He kept screwing up the shot and saying "Back to one," with that fucking accent. It is an inside joke to this day between Paul and I. We were on set for about 20 hours that day, and as we left at dawn and walked up to collect checks. Michael looked very uncomfortable. He cut us all checks for $50.00. My mind was blown, how could it be so little? We had been there for weeks doing FREE rehearsals, and then we spent 20 hours doing our stupid fight scene and walking for HOURS! My mind was blown that I didn't discuss payment, that I was so naive.
I think I did one more day on set, and then something happened where the film was a break for a while. We all went to the Director's apartment one day to view the cut of old, and new footage he pasted together. He had me audition for a bigger role, told me I was a leader but I needed to act with my eyes. Paul pulled me aside when I left feeling dejected, and said "He's only directed porn, he means he wants you to look dead behind the eyes." Comforting words like those are why Paul and I are going to know each other forever.
If you can't believe that I wasn't already driven away by the terrible script, the disorganization, the wasted time, and the fact that I made the make-up artist laugh so hard she dropped the iron on my arm and gave me a scar that only this year finally isn't visible, prepare yourself for the last straw. I get a call out of nowhere that the production is now in Vegas, and that I needed to be there in a few days. I had some BIG scenes. Sounds great. This is also months later. I ask if they have a vehicle or plane ticket for me, I get to talk to the mysterious Pablo finally. The man behind the curtain tells me that if I drive out there they will reimburse my gas. I tell them I don't have the gas money for a 5 hour trip to Vegas so I won't be going, and I never heard from them again.
Damnit woman, pull yourself together before you burn the shit out of my arm.
Paul dropped out as Production Designer then too, but we didn't hurt or stop the film. As a matter of fact, this weird mutant went on to be recast, even poor Jack who was once the lead and was stunt coordinating for free was cut. He changed the story and cast again, and the title of the film. I wish I was kidding when I say that just a few months ago, and then even more recently I received a casting notice from LACasting.com in my email for a film that was very clearly the new version of this film. The Director is still recasting and tweeking.
As much that was wrong about the film and the filming process, it was a good first experience and I gained invaluable knowledge and relationships from it.
I was optimistic though. I was working really hard over the weekends, doing the graveyard shifts two nights, then heading straight down the road to The Hilton right after my Saturday night shift on Sunday morning to nap on the table until I had a massage. Even though this routine wore me down, and my two cats started going in heat around that time, and I had NO money to take them to the vet and fix that yet, I had my weekdays wide open. I could surf the internet and submit with my extremely amateur headshots I had at the time, and I was going to Second City for classes twice a week!
I used to remember what I was doing and where I was when I got the call for this "audition". I no longer can recall those details, but I remember driving straight to that warehouse in Downtown LA to meet with a man I would work with several more times, he was the UPM (unit production manager) named Michael. He had me wait upstairs where there were a bunch of people stretching and pairing off to do staged fighting routines. Now as Unit Production Manager, Michael should not have been able to cast me right then and there, but on this film he could. And he did. So, because I was tall, and my fight partner was tall, I was cast.
My partner was someone that I would know for quite a while longer, Hudson. He was became my first real friend out here, and we hung out all the time. We also both went to these unpaid, daily fight rehearsals, none the wiser that it shouldn't really work like that. It was weeks, without a script, without any idea really what this movie was about. Hudson even got to come up with the fight moves! We had a martial art instructor who was the lead of the movie come and guide us, but overall two inexperienced actors in film and fighting were sent to do their own thing.
There was some mysterious producer named Pablo that was always on the phone fighting with the Director. He was a quiet man with a baseball hat, and long coat on at all times. He was from Argentina, but his accent seemed Eastern European. He spoke fine English, but what couldn't translate to him was how film sets were run in the United States. All of us, so green and almost everyone making their film debut in this feature, had no idea that when our call time was 3pm to be on set and he didn't walk in til 8pm that was a bad thing. He was always late, and most of us just laid around and then were sent home in our black tights and corsets, that we were made to purchase ourselves.
One day I was lounging about in the warehouse, I'm going to call this my most important day on any set to date. There I was in my corset and tights wielding my katana when the production designer (person in charge of making all the sets and in this case handle all of the props) walked to the room about to be shot, very frazzled. I walked up to him and said: "Hey, let me know if you need any help with anything."
We all began to slowly realize that this film was all over the place. Milos changed the story again, not rewrites...THE ENTIRE STORY. The one day we did film and I got a little bit of screen time he had us walk in these stupid hooker boots and he used this crane to get the four of us coming toward him. He kept screwing up the shot and saying "Back to one," with that fucking accent. It is an inside joke to this day between Paul and I. We were on set for about 20 hours that day, and as we left at dawn and walked up to collect checks. Michael looked very uncomfortable. He cut us all checks for $50.00. My mind was blown, how could it be so little? We had been there for weeks doing FREE rehearsals, and then we spent 20 hours doing our stupid fight scene and walking for HOURS! My mind was blown that I didn't discuss payment, that I was so naive.
Sleeping on set.
I think I did one more day on set, and then something happened where the film was a break for a while. We all went to the Director's apartment one day to view the cut of old, and new footage he pasted together. He had me audition for a bigger role, told me I was a leader but I needed to act with my eyes. Paul pulled me aside when I left feeling dejected, and said "He's only directed porn, he means he wants you to look dead behind the eyes." Comforting words like those are why Paul and I are going to know each other forever.
Damnit woman, pull yourself together before you burn the shit out of my arm.
Paul dropped out as Production Designer then too, but we didn't hurt or stop the film. As a matter of fact, this weird mutant went on to be recast, even poor Jack who was once the lead and was stunt coordinating for free was cut. He changed the story and cast again, and the title of the film. I wish I was kidding when I say that just a few months ago, and then even more recently I received a casting notice from LACasting.com in my email for a film that was very clearly the new version of this film. The Director is still recasting and tweeking.
As much that was wrong about the film and the filming process, it was a good first experience and I gained invaluable knowledge and relationships from it.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Student Film
Coming from a strictly theater background, with no friends in the biz or around, imagine my thought process of how to break into film. Why of course, I went to where you go to get anything you need: CRAIGSLIST!
Now, I'm not putting down craigslist. But I'm just going to say that a website that also let's people post pictures of their dicks might not host the best opportunities for an up and coming actress. I moved out in January of 09, and I did ONE student film. A student film, for those that don't know are just what they sound like. They are film school students making their own mini-movies. The equipment is at most times hand-me-downs, and things are a little less organized than a real set. In my case, I submitted for a rush casting that was filming that night. I was so eager to shoot something I jumped on even after reading the poorly written script (students often write their own material, or re-do a famous scene from another movie for projects).
I don't know who I called, but I let someone know that I was going to meet a group of dudes at some downtown apartment at midnight. It seemed like the wise thing to do. Once I got there I did my scene that consisted of being tied up, dragged out of a closet, and letting them trace a real knife with fake blood over my face. I cried real tears and I let them stain my clothes.
Student films don't pay, and many times they don't even feed you(which is why we all actually do film, sets must feed you every 6 hours). Even though I called the director several times from the student film I worked on, I never even got a copy. Nowadays I delete all student films out of my casting submissions (no longer digging around craigslist).
However, if you are a young actor green to screen as well, I would suggest the "craigslist student film" way for a bit. As much as my experience really turned me off, it is a good way to get footage for your reel, which is your video resume in a way. Directors will ask for them a lot when you submit for things, and they show a great deal more than a headshot. Sometimes you can be cast just off a reel. Here, I will post an example of a kick ass reel.
BE IMPRESSED BY KEVIN BROOKS HERE:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoDC8g7wR9s&feature=player_embedded#!
That is my homie Kevin Brooks, he is not doing student films anymore either!
Moral of my story is do student films if you don't have anything else to show how super you are on screen. You won't get paid, and you can't force them to give you a copy of what you do, so make sure you jive with the people you will be working with ahead of time. Be sure to request the script and read it through before you say yes, they are asking you to donate your time, so don't be afraid to ask some consideration from them as well.
Now, I'm not putting down craigslist. But I'm just going to say that a website that also let's people post pictures of their dicks might not host the best opportunities for an up and coming actress. I moved out in January of 09, and I did ONE student film. A student film, for those that don't know are just what they sound like. They are film school students making their own mini-movies. The equipment is at most times hand-me-downs, and things are a little less organized than a real set. In my case, I submitted for a rush casting that was filming that night. I was so eager to shoot something I jumped on even after reading the poorly written script (students often write their own material, or re-do a famous scene from another movie for projects).
I don't know who I called, but I let someone know that I was going to meet a group of dudes at some downtown apartment at midnight. It seemed like the wise thing to do. Once I got there I did my scene that consisted of being tied up, dragged out of a closet, and letting them trace a real knife with fake blood over my face. I cried real tears and I let them stain my clothes.
Student films don't pay, and many times they don't even feed you(which is why we all actually do film, sets must feed you every 6 hours). Even though I called the director several times from the student film I worked on, I never even got a copy. Nowadays I delete all student films out of my casting submissions (no longer digging around craigslist).
However, if you are a young actor green to screen as well, I would suggest the "craigslist student film" way for a bit. As much as my experience really turned me off, it is a good way to get footage for your reel, which is your video resume in a way. Directors will ask for them a lot when you submit for things, and they show a great deal more than a headshot. Sometimes you can be cast just off a reel. Here, I will post an example of a kick ass reel.
BE IMPRESSED BY KEVIN BROOKS HERE:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoDC8g7wR9s&feature=player_embedded#!
That is my homie Kevin Brooks, he is not doing student films anymore either!
Moral of my story is do student films if you don't have anything else to show how super you are on screen. You won't get paid, and you can't force them to give you a copy of what you do, so make sure you jive with the people you will be working with ahead of time. Be sure to request the script and read it through before you say yes, they are asking you to donate your time, so don't be afraid to ask some consideration from them as well.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
There are No Little Engines
Talent that you hone.
Confidence and acceptance of who you are.
Grace, humility, and the will to push through all the no's.
Don't forget ever what your dreams really are,
and don't forget who you are on the way there...
it pays off in one way or another to those that deserve it.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Jackpot
Los Angeles is a gamble. What you are putting on the table is more than money though, trust me, a lot of money is thrown down in the pursuit of your dreams. On this table, with every roll of the dice that is your future, you put a bit of your heart, soul, confidence, and happiness and wait to see if you get anything back. A lot of people leave bankrupt. I feel like I've had to dip in deep down to find anything to push me forward some months. Some confidence, money, and hope has often been borrowed.
The stakes are incredibly high. Most of us out here have decided the ultimate price is, well, everything. We will give up everything in pursuit, and we expect it to give us everything back once we've reached this imaginary peak of our lives. Like most casinos, the house usually wins. Many out here leave with no more than an experience that they will never forget, and possibly a different outlook on life for the better or worse. And the odds of striking that jackpot (which of course means being one of the elite A listers - to me it just means getting to make what I want and having the funding to do it) are as ugly as any casino. But we come back, pulling those slots, blowing on those dice and holding our breath, and we give our everythings.
We have to remember that when chasing our dreams we often ignore our realities. I envy and respect anyone who has found a happy medium between those two. Those people are the happy ones, because they were able to realize a dream and find a path that will lead them to it. A big part of being happy is making yourself open to it. Trust me, life will hand you things everyday that can fill your heart, you just have to give the call that it's clear to land.
As I struggle with the balancing act, and learning to be happy with what I have, I find myself caught up in my dreams. But what sort of writer would I be if I wasn't able to check out of reality for a bit? The trick is appreciating all you've got when you get back, and making sure when you do roll that dice, you've got more than enough in the bank.
The stakes are incredibly high. Most of us out here have decided the ultimate price is, well, everything. We will give up everything in pursuit, and we expect it to give us everything back once we've reached this imaginary peak of our lives. Like most casinos, the house usually wins. Many out here leave with no more than an experience that they will never forget, and possibly a different outlook on life for the better or worse. And the odds of striking that jackpot (which of course means being one of the elite A listers - to me it just means getting to make what I want and having the funding to do it) are as ugly as any casino. But we come back, pulling those slots, blowing on those dice and holding our breath, and we give our everythings.
We have to remember that when chasing our dreams we often ignore our realities. I envy and respect anyone who has found a happy medium between those two. Those people are the happy ones, because they were able to realize a dream and find a path that will lead them to it. A big part of being happy is making yourself open to it. Trust me, life will hand you things everyday that can fill your heart, you just have to give the call that it's clear to land.
As I struggle with the balancing act, and learning to be happy with what I have, I find myself caught up in my dreams. But what sort of writer would I be if I wasn't able to check out of reality for a bit? The trick is appreciating all you've got when you get back, and making sure when you do roll that dice, you've got more than enough in the bank.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Why Blog, Why!?
I have a bunch of diaries from middle and high school with ripped out pages. I wasn't good at keeping up with them. When I did spew into one, my younger self cried over boys (like the kid in middle school who when I asked him to dance, he decided to jump into a trashcan instead of wobble around on the dance floor with me). Embarrassed, older Sarah thought about anyone else finding my pathetic dribble, and tore it out with a dramatic flare. I'm sure I ripped it out, tore it to pieces, and fainted onto my bed. I do have the memory of how good it felt to write, and vomit my feelings through a pen though. And so, I've chosen to vomit onto all of you.
Deciding to write down my feelings and thoughts into the internet universe is a relatively new one. I think I really just needed to start writing something. Like many writers, I often find writing to be the hardest thing to do. Not from lack of ideas, oh no no no honey child. I've got 17,000 script ideas floating around in my head right now. RIGHT NOW. However, my suspense script for instance, got to page 3 and decided I wouldn't go on until I decided what my character would be wearing. So this blogging thing will do me some good I think.
Help me stretch my brain.
I also feel like I do have a real message that I want to express, maybe out loud to myself, or to anyone else that is interested in the film industry. So my objective behind this blog: write everyday, exercise clutter from my brain, and learn more about myself, maybe reach others trying to do the same thing as me.
Deciding to write down my feelings and thoughts into the internet universe is a relatively new one. I think I really just needed to start writing something. Like many writers, I often find writing to be the hardest thing to do. Not from lack of ideas, oh no no no honey child. I've got 17,000 script ideas floating around in my head right now. RIGHT NOW. However, my suspense script for instance, got to page 3 and decided I wouldn't go on until I decided what my character would be wearing. So this blogging thing will do me some good I think.
Help me stretch my brain.
Sling-shot
It's January 12th, 2012 here in unseasonably sunny California. It's been three years last week since I packed all I could fit, including two cats, into my four door Sentra and booked it from the Georgia coast to Los Angeles in pursuit of quelling that incessant chatter deep inside that told me I had to. I'm not from Georgia either. I moved there thinking I had picked the other kind of life. The kind where you don't follow your lifelong dreams, but do something practical instead. So I followed a love I only thought I loved, and lived a life I only thought was living, until I couldn't bear it anymore.
I only lived there for ten months until I decided I did in fact want no, needed to follow those dreams. I headed right back to the west. I was originally from Arizona, the state just to the right of California. But I couldn't make that eight hour drive from there. Arizona had defeated me, my parents were not in support of my goals to write and act, and none of my friends would make the move with me. So I decided to shelf the most constant part of me as a person, my creativity. But just like a sling-shot, Georgia and the experiences there shot me straight to my dreams. So even though it might be painful, and at times full or regret for me, I am glad I made those choices that at the time I thought broke me. I would not be here in Hollywood, and I wouldn't have been able to do it alone, until I absolutely had to.
And man, was I alone when I first got here. I typed into my GPS "Sunset BLVD. Hollywood, CA" because I had NO idea where else to go. I had only ever been to Disneyland, I had never even been to Hollywood or the surrounding area before. I tried to figure my move out online the best I could. A nice lady on Craigslist was even going to let me stay in her house for free! I just couldn't call her, because she was old and deaf. And the best news of all was that she liked me so much, she would let me work for her. I just had to cash this cashier check she sent and I could keep half of the money. If it's too good to be true, it's a Craigslist scam. If it's too shitty to be true, it's a Hollywood Studio Apartment.
A studio apartment is just what I got. Right across the street from Paramount studios, as in literally next to it.
I was so excited. It was out of my initial price range, $850 a month. I had only been able to save about $2,300.00 coming out here, so I had to take out a loan, but the motel I was staying in kicked me out since my kittens didn't read the sign that said "No Pets" in room. So, I took the apartment. Let me go back, it was a bachelor studio. That means one. very small room, a very small closet, and a very small bathroom. I slept on a pullout couch that had about 2 spare feet from the stove and fridge. The first month I was there I only had freezing cold water, and both my cats thought it was a good time to become women. Neighbors left me death threats about their impassioned wailing at night. But what could I do? They were in heat, and I was in debt.
The worst part of that complex, other than the fridge that broke, the gangs in the neighborhood, and the fact that in those months of my life I ate mostly soup out of a box, was the parking. You couldn't park on the entire strip of road touching paramount, and my building did not have a garage. So this dirt road Arizona girl got her first spoonful of street parking. Street cleaning was a new concept too. It's also not a real thing. Men with leaf blowers just blow shit around certain mornings, why they can't do that under and around cars is a mystery. So Wednesday and Thursday every week at 8am til 10am your car had to be moved to the opposite side of the street. But in my area, parking was so limited that many times I would have to wake up and run with blood shot eyes to my car, and drive around cussing and sometimes crying from sleep deprivation for 30 minutes looking for a spot. There was one night I circled at 2am for so long I gave up and just slept in my car, then woke up and drove around at 8am again. My first parking ticket was from not noticing the street cleaning signs, so I thought, "Oh, I'll just park on the other side of the street tomorrow". The next day as I pulled my second ticket off my windshield, a bird shit on my arm. That experience sums up my time living at that stupid purple apartment.
Insane transitions from small town to biggest city aside, I was optimistic, heartbroken, alone, excited, anxious, and ready for all the changes that were happening to me. Now, three years later I've come far, and I need to remember to move my car at 10am tomorrow morning.
(an actual photograph of one of my first parking tickets in LA)
I only lived there for ten months until I decided I did in fact want no, needed to follow those dreams. I headed right back to the west. I was originally from Arizona, the state just to the right of California. But I couldn't make that eight hour drive from there. Arizona had defeated me, my parents were not in support of my goals to write and act, and none of my friends would make the move with me. So I decided to shelf the most constant part of me as a person, my creativity. But just like a sling-shot, Georgia and the experiences there shot me straight to my dreams. So even though it might be painful, and at times full or regret for me, I am glad I made those choices that at the time I thought broke me. I would not be here in Hollywood, and I wouldn't have been able to do it alone, until I absolutely had to.
And man, was I alone when I first got here. I typed into my GPS "Sunset BLVD. Hollywood, CA" because I had NO idea where else to go. I had only ever been to Disneyland, I had never even been to Hollywood or the surrounding area before. I tried to figure my move out online the best I could. A nice lady on Craigslist was even going to let me stay in her house for free! I just couldn't call her, because she was old and deaf. And the best news of all was that she liked me so much, she would let me work for her. I just had to cash this cashier check she sent and I could keep half of the money. If it's too good to be true, it's a Craigslist scam. If it's too shitty to be true, it's a Hollywood Studio Apartment.
A studio apartment is just what I got. Right across the street from Paramount studios, as in literally next to it.
The worst part of that complex, other than the fridge that broke, the gangs in the neighborhood, and the fact that in those months of my life I ate mostly soup out of a box, was the parking. You couldn't park on the entire strip of road touching paramount, and my building did not have a garage. So this dirt road Arizona girl got her first spoonful of street parking. Street cleaning was a new concept too. It's also not a real thing. Men with leaf blowers just blow shit around certain mornings, why they can't do that under and around cars is a mystery. So Wednesday and Thursday every week at 8am til 10am your car had to be moved to the opposite side of the street. But in my area, parking was so limited that many times I would have to wake up and run with blood shot eyes to my car, and drive around cussing and sometimes crying from sleep deprivation for 30 minutes looking for a spot. There was one night I circled at 2am for so long I gave up and just slept in my car, then woke up and drove around at 8am again. My first parking ticket was from not noticing the street cleaning signs, so I thought, "Oh, I'll just park on the other side of the street tomorrow". The next day as I pulled my second ticket off my windshield, a bird shit on my arm. That experience sums up my time living at that stupid purple apartment.
Insane transitions from small town to biggest city aside, I was optimistic, heartbroken, alone, excited, anxious, and ready for all the changes that were happening to me. Now, three years later I've come far, and I need to remember to move my car at 10am tomorrow morning.
(an actual photograph of one of my first parking tickets in LA)
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