Time for a YEWU…Year End Wrap Up. I’ve been writing in this online journal for an entire year. Much to my surprise. I’ve even been slightly neglecting my paper journal. I think it’s because I can type my thoughts much faster than I can write them down. It is also therapeutic because it feels like I’ve let someone know my thoughts, whether they be good or bad. And no one is judging. At least I hope you aren’t. Just like having my own therapist. It’s a good release. As much as it can be narcissistic.
I rung in the new year right here in L.A. at the Citywalk after a sumptuous dinner at Buca di Beppo’s with a good group of friends and their friends. My Chinese horoscope predicted that it was going to be either a really, really good year or a really, really bad year for the horses. My year fell into the latter category.
I declare that I am celebrating my birthday for the entire month. I convince Tricia, Tricia’s roommate Nicole, and Mary whose birthdays are all in January to celebrate with me. Some good times. I am finishing my applications for Syracuse University and Trek America. I decide to live life with a vengeance because too many days have passed unfulfilled. I’m searching for passion, love, new interests, challenges. I’m 24. It’s a new age. I spend an hour a day studying Thai and Italian. I have a new obsession with cookbooks. I purchase a Mediterranean one and I have Tricia bring me back one from New Zealand. I have yet to cook from either one. I’m going to imagine, create, wonder and execute thoughts, ideas and projects. I find inspiration in movies, books, my imagination, life-loving people and food. I begin to feel a ray of sunlight. Sometimes I feel so down in the darkness. But lately I’ve been having up days that inspire me to write. I start a xanga journal. What the fuck am I going to do with my life? I buy candy on sale. I search the web for a meaning. I recognize new loves: cobblestone streets, close-knit buildings that create a shadow-lined path, a certain time of day for perfect picture taking. Am I going to meet my first love? Anytime soon? Will I get into grad school? What are my dreams? Travel. Culinary school. Write a novel. Write a screenplay – watch it be made into a film/act in it and accept an award for it. Open a crepe shoppe/bakery/tea house. Run a marathon. Fall in love. Live in a place with cobblestone streets and honor policy fruit stands. I fill out my FAFSA. If I do get into grad school, I’m going to need some money.
I declare myself a professional time-waster. I am deeply saddened by the Columbia explosion. I am a Tigerheat regular for the entire month. My language lessons aren’t as frequent. I march the Peace Walk on Hollywood and Vine where I feel like I have a purpose. I faint in the bathroom of The Echo at a Rilo Kiley show. I hit my head hard on the floor. I think it’s low blood pressure. I apply to numerous jobs online but don’t even receive a return receipt. I am frustrated. I wake up past noon and plan my day. No scratch that I don’t plan anything. My life revolves around television shows. Pathetic. I’m so mad at myself. I am bitter that I am lonely and hate Valentine’s day. I go on my first commercial audition. This auditioning stuff is really not as scary as I thought it was. I feel like I can do more. Bring it on. I feel the need to expand my circle of friends to include boys that I can kiss. I want to title a story “Tuna Fish Sandwiches”. I spend a lot of time perusing through missed connections on craigslist.com. My sister is concerned about my physical health. I have swollen lymph nodes that won’t return to normal. I secretly think that it could be leukemia. She forces me to make an appointment.
I see my primary physician about my fainting spell and swollen lymph nodes. She runs some tests, takes some blood, jots some notes, and writes me referrals to see a neurologist for a cat scan and an EEG. She reports me to the DMV. This begins a long and expensive 5-month ordeal that finally gets wrapped up in August. I’ll spare the details. Most of this is written somewhere on Xanga anyway. I begin going to the gym regularly because I want to run a marathon. I am kind of scared that maybe I am sick. I try to forget about it. I take a last minute roadtrip with Tricia and Joe to Santa Cruz to see Death Cab for Cutie. Royksopp at Henry Fonda. Sondre Lerche/Nada Surf at Knitting Factory. Ed Harcourt at Largo. Stars at Knitting Factory. Swedish showcase with The Sounds at the Troubadour. My second commercial audition for K-Swiss. I even get a callback out of thousands who auditioned. I’ve got an inflated ego. I believe my luck is truly changing. I walk around with light radiating around me. I am accepted at Syracuse. My mood has been lifted. I am optimistic for the first time in a long time. I am happy, confident and trying to live life on a budget. I won some money playing the slots at Sycuan. I bought a plane ticket to New York. I feel the need to pick up the pieces. Take some damn responsibility and grow up. I have commitment issues, anxiety problems, and an overzealous imagination that’s taken me to faroff places yet nowhere.
I pick up my language lessons again and working out at least twice a week. I leave for New York for eleven days. Details found on April 14th-21st entries. My favorite number. Tricia and I see The Postal Service at the Bowery Ballroom. I rekindle my friendship with Charisse. I love how we laugh at everything. I decide to defer Syracuse to give me some time to think things through. I cement my girlhood infatuation with New York City by declaring it my favorite and making secret plans to move there. I make up stories about how I’m suppose to meet “The One” there. Someone else tells me that too. I start to believe that I was meant to end up in NYC sometime in my life.
UCLA’s Film School rejects me. But offers me their professional program aka night school. No thanks. I see The Postal Service again in L.A. I research topics of interests: fasting/cleansing, substitute teaching, summer classes at LBCC, East West Players Acting Conservatory. Workouts continue more frequently. Almost daily because of Lauren. Plus I read somewhere that exercising wards off depression. I walk the Aids Walk Long Beach. I relapse back into the doldrums after returning from New York. My anywhere but here disorder. It was such a slap in the face. The optimism that made me glow few weeks prior has all dissipated. No energy. No direction. I don’t know what to do. I’m stuck and depressed. I get hit on by a girl at Club Bang. Not the first time. I start practicing writing with my left hand. I walk the Aids Walk Orange County. I think there is someone living in my attic. I want to lose 10 pounds. Because that is all the control I have in my life. I start on my novel. Wrote the first couple pages and stopped. I fire myself from being everyone’s saviour. Nobody is perfect. I am far from it. Yet, I want to perfect the world around me. The people around me. For their own good. I think I’m more angry at myself for not being more verbal and aggressive in what I want. I’ve always avoided stepping on people’s toes, putting my own happiness aside. Trying to keep a chaotic world at bay. Entropy. Chaos theory. The laws are against me. I can’t win. Just let it go. I am a chronic perfectionist. So much that it is hard for me to admit that I am. I am done being the nice one. Here comes the bitch in all her glory. I will get what I want. Well, first I need to know what I want. Now, that’s harder. I start with the things I know I don’t want. I don’t want sleazeballs groping me thinking I want to be groped. I elbow this guy hard in the stomach after he didn’t get the hint that I didn’t want to be touched by him. I want to be creative. Film everything. Create new perspectives. Photograph the unexpected. I never want to be afraid of anything…telling the truth, fighting injustice, being a bitch, pissing people off, loving people, letting others love me, showing my imperfections, realizing my dreams and going after them. I want no regrets. Just do it and live with the consequences, whether good or bad, later. Cooking becomes therapy. I crush on Carrick Moore Gerety and play Xenosaga on PS2 a lot. Score tickets day of to a sold out Coldplay show at the Hollywood Bowl. I get out more. A little less antisocial.
I see a second doctor for a second opinion. I want those DMV restrictions removed. I cry in front of the doctor. She says its vasovagal syncope. I am so pathetically poor that I wish on a star. I am surprised that I lived to see 24. I believed early on that I’d die young. I make comparisons to James Dean. He died at 23. I am 24. Who would have thought? I envy people who have plans. I get a call to audition for a Red Bull commercial. I have foot surgery on my toes and it leaves me limping and wearing sandals for the month. This halts my gym visits. I am being antisocial again. I get back into extra work. I go to a lot of shows. I am in debt.
I work on Hilary Duff’s movie. Flashback to my teen years. I heal my toe and head back to the gym twice before I have to have surgery on my other foot. I’ve been breaking out so I bought Proactiv. I think I had an allergic reaction to it. I switch to Eucerin. I finally see the neurologist and he gets me a cat scan and eeg for much less than what my PPO was going to charge me. I see the dentist, the neurologist for an EEG and technician for a CAT scan all in one day. I’m working on all these high school shows.
Begin workouts again. Doing extra work at least three days a week. I start on Repechage. It works wonders on my skin. I’ve controlled the breakouts. Occasional hormonal zits once a month. I decide to play food critic. I am applying for jobs left and right. Mostly production jobs. I realize that this time next year I will be in Syracuse living out a dream. I go on a compulsive shopping spree because I have money coming in. I spend more than I’ve earned. I volunteer at the LA International Short Film Festival and realize that I still am in love with the film production.
I make an appointment at a temp agency but cancel it later. I have an interview at Living Elements, a production company, for a paid internship. I have another interview at NBC studios for a p.a. position which the guy hiring thought a girl couldn’t handle. I go on a Paul Mitchell model call but get there late and don’t go in. The agency that sent me tells me later that the client hired me and that if I worked for them to confirm in order to get paid. I tell them I didn’t work those days. I kick myself on missing out on that paycheck. I have a Breakfast Club session with four strangers in an empty hospital while on the set of Las Vegas. I book a flight for New York.
I spend the first two weeks in NYC, Boston, and D.C. I spend money I don’t have. But I loved every minute of it. I go to Janice’s wedding party. She’s going to be a mommy. That scares me. Because I’m so far from that reality. I reevaluate my situation. I apply for a magazine internship in New York. I decide magazine is the route I want to take. At least for now anyways. My cousin flies in my Japan and I play tour guide. I spend a wet Halloween in West Hollywood. I keep myself busy and I don’t have time to dwell on my emotions.
I write less and less online and on paper. My horoscope for December said that I’ve had a lot of setbacks over the past year, and that I should pat myself on the back for the stamina, resourcefulness, and grace I’ve exhibited throughout. After the 21st, the cosmic current finally shifts, bringing a steady flow of good fortune and paving the way for a gratifying 2004. I have a first and second interview at Hungry Man Productions. So close. I am the PR charity coordinator for Sphere Magazine. I get in touch with an old friend from elementary school. I am in hiking mode. Climb every mountain. I realize how much I like the outdoors. The holiday season does not seem like it’s here. I start my root canal.
I am a pageant trainer. Training girls on their poise and confidence. Funny isn’t it? One alumni ball. One debutante dinner and dance. More dentist visits. Last minute Christmas shopping. Christmas. Happy mood. Now it’s the year end wrap up. My brother turns 21 today. Happy Birthday Jeff. Things are looking better.
Let’s welcome the new year.