It's been a wild and wonderful 48 hours. Last night I went to the devastatingly decadent H.Wood to see Lucent Dossier and recline in absolute luxury. Esza Kaye and I had a much needed night of casual elegance while being tickled with insane brilliance brought to life. I was not a fan of the plastic glassware or how difficult it became to navigate the club once it was full. But they were tiny details in what was an otherwise magical evening.

This morning I literally rolled out of bed after a fistful of stormy hours of sleep to interview James Roday (Psych) with regards to an upcoming play here in Los Angeles. You can find the final piece on Metblogs.

This particular Saturday has been a nexus of much intention for at least a month. Originally, I thought I'd be out in Texas at a convention with the Possum Walk cast and crew celebrating the first public viewing of the official theatrical trailer. But that ended up not happening due to the ineptitude of that event. Then I went with my usual choice for this time of year - the Scream Awards. Until about 48 hours ago, that was the plan.

Out of nowhere, I had an opportunity come up I could not resist. I had the chance to interview Tim Robbins with regards to a creative arts festival being hosted by his theater company. I thought I'd be doing it yesterday during the early afternoon but our schedules didn't jive and I had to get on with the rest of my day. There was a slim chance he'd have time Saturday. I wasn't counting on it, though. I figured I had lost my shot.

This afternoon I heard back that I could meet up for a quick interview. I didn't think about it twice. He's a hero of mine for his career, the way he carries his personal convictions and how he navigates some of the bullshit trappings of Hollywood. I've been to the Scream Awards several times and there will be plenty more in the future. But a chance to work on something like this, promoting something I believe in, is not common for me. I didn't even care that I'd be traveling three hours in traffic for what would amount to ten minutes or less. It's just how things are here. A lot of prep and work goes into very small moments. But how sweet they can be!

I headed out to the theater during rush hour traffic and arrived as they were setting up for the Tenacious D fundraising event going down tonight. I felt like a total nerd. I was nervous. Somehow I managed to keep on track and only say a few totally idiotic things that I will kick myself for over the course of the next week because that's how I roll. But I have some great material that I think is different from the various other reviews already published online. He also made me think and struck several chords that I've been gingerly fingering for years.

Stay tuned to LA Metblogs for the impending piece. It'll go up tomorrow or early Monday morning.

I have been considering the small pond/big fish circumstance a great deal lately.  I've never been a fan.  It's too easy.  It's simply not difficult to do.  Where's the thrill in that?  

I'm an ocean dweller, myself.  And those fresh water fishes know it when they see me, which has a lot to do with why they don't accept me on the occasions I try to play in their waters.  That's ok.  I won't be bothering any more.  You can have your little stagnate ponds.  I've got this massive ocean to spend my life being challenged by and constantly grow within while never quite being big enough to fill it all. 

Tonight, we were fishes in the ocean discovering pearls.  It was satisfying because it was so hard won.  I enjoyed every second of it.

Today was __wolverine__ 's birthday.  I had planned a very elegant dinner and some tawdry entertainment.  The Tiki Room did not disappoint.  We were extremely well treated.  It was wonderful.  I've put in a lot of time there and being shown that it is appreciated was a kind of validation I haven't experienced in years.  Being able to parlay that into something special for the man who does battle beside me day in and day out was something beautiful.  He loved it all too.

After being treated like royalty, we headed back to Hollywood.  The midnight showing of Inglorious Basterds at the ArcLight was spectacular, aside from the computer glitch with our seats.  I let that little tid bit go.  It was a packed house and I wasn't in the mood to be pissy.  Mister Tarantino himself showed up to introduce his own flick, which I had expected.  I was glad to not be disappointed.  And the movie?  It was simply flawless.  It might even be award winning material.

Happy Birthday, my Love.  Here's to surviving another year and not giving up on one another.  You are my hero every day.

I received an extensive list of available 'work' from a casting agency the other day. It was nothing but reality television and all of it utter crap.  There was even a 'real life soap opera.'  I'm sure the writers of actual soap operas just love that.  They could be next on the chopping block as this bottom of the barrel and cheap schadenfreude masquerading as 'entertainment' takes over network television.  

Soon, you'll have to subscribe to cable in order to see anything remotely nearing acting.  

It's a bit ironic.

I was feeling rather pleased with my fitness progress this past week until I started to see images from the set of Possum Walk.  At the time of those photos, I weighed around 124 lbs.  That's not big.  But in Hollywood terms, it's still 6 to 8 lbs heavier than I should be.  And the reason why was evident in the photos.  I looked like a pig at a roast because, for all the progress I had made, the lack of tone ended up looking flabby.  If I had been shown the pictures and not known the woman in them, I'd have guessed that she weighed 130 to 140 lbs.

My legs are doing better than the rest of my body due to all the walking and stair climbing I do.  I'm considering getting a pair of those Sketchers shoes that force your whole core to tone while you walk.  Of course, that leaves me with the flabby arm/shoulders issue but I've started doing push ups again along with using some hand held weights.

It'd be nice to stop being horrified by pictures or snippets of myself on film.  I  just  hope I don't go to the extreme and buy into the emaciated look to find that sense of contentment.  This is how those actresses end themselves up in that position.  It all starts with one horrifying image of themselves looking like an average woman does on camera.  

But we don't live in a world of average.  We live in a world of incredibly high expectations and an internet full of opinions.  The Hollywood image is more than just difficult to maintain these days.  It can come with a side of brutality.

"Energy is equal to desire and purpose."

-- Sheryl Adams

Thursday was a taxing orchestration on my part with the goal of finally squeezing some fun from my world.  I took a dreaded lunch shift at the Tiki room so that I could head straight over to Universal City and catch a private screening of Funny People with __wolverine__ .  Again, it was a case of paying a steep price for something I wanted, not to mention finally getting this whole concept of putting fun back into my life off the ground.

As expected, I had very little sleep and nearly didn't get up at all because I'm not used to early mornings due to all the late nights I work.  Lunch was a barrage of activity and constant phone calls.  The upside is it flew by quickly.

As I was extracting myself from the Tiki room, someone told me they had very bad news.  I stiffened.  I certainly wasn't in the mood for anything of that nature.  The bearer of bad news told me that John Hughes had died of a heart attack.  I stood there for what seemed like a lifetime processing that and tentatively wondering how I felt.  Basically, I had been told that the 80's died - a time period I nearly worshipped for its insane fashion, long haired boys and iconic music.  It was too much for me to truly process in such a small space of time.  I let it go.

I had a couple of hours to kill before the screening.  I took my time getting to Universal City and walking around it.  I kept having flashbacks to my youth.  I silently window shopped and perused Happy Hour options until settling on Sangria and fancy mac n' cheese at the Hard Rock Cafe.  It was fun.  It was also haunting.

When __wolverine__  arrived, we checked in and found our seats in the theater.  The movie was hysterical, though had a bit of a pacing problem with a huge energy change that made it hard to concentrate.  But the movie struck home in so many ways.  It was about aging.  It was about living in the moment.  It was about what's really important.  It was about the lack of human connection for many in the entertainment  industry.  We both kept thinking this was Adam Sandler's moment.  He'd finally given the world his award worthy performance.

We finished our evening at Wasabi with some sushi.  Our song came on near the end of the meal.  It's the one I have programmed into my phone to play when he calls.  I hadn't heard the entire thing in years.  It was appropriate, though.  Once he arrived, our evening had a distinctly romantic and warm undercurrent.  It was a real date night, which is something we don't do a lot these days due to our over extended schedules and exhaustion.

He crashed the instant he hit the couch.  I wasn't far behind him though I sat up a bit with Burn Notice in the background truly considering the impact of my day and what it meant in the face of the death of the 80's.  The 80's were fun.  I had a forward motion that never turned back to gaze upon the past.  It was creative even in the most caustic of moments.  I certainly wasn't that little girl any more.  I didn't miss her.  And everything she had hoped to be had come to some sort of fruition.

Lately I have been in contact with a number of very famous people.  I'm not sure why I am starting to notice the culture that swirls around these individuals so much these days but I'm struck by the shockingly sad bubble a celebrity lives within.  I suppose there was a time I thought it might be fun to live like that but after experiences in a fumbled friendship with a very deluded, passive-aggressive celebrity with no spine and the nearly daily onslaught of reality television fashioned around famous faces I am viewing fame with even greater distain.

Contrary to how glamorous HBO makes it seem, the entourage is the most disturbing thing about celebrity culture.  No matter the gender or age of the celebrity, they are almost always surrounded by very young, very beautiful twenty somethings.  They drift around with a sense of entitlement borrowed from the object of their orbit, dripping with a shark-like disingenuousness that is so obvious one would think they'd be called on the carpet for it.  

These bottom feeding ass kissers are dangerous.  While they may blanket their celebrity from the outside world like a warm, cozy buffer of security, they also offer nothing remotely resembling truthful moments.  In some cases, the famous face forgets how to think for themselves or take care of their most basic needs without being aided along the way.  

Privilege is one thing.  It can be fun.  But being reduced in such a fashion is profound and not to be desired.

I desperately wanted to have a once in a lifetime experience on this particular day.  I took it a little harder than I expected when I didn't get that chance.  But fate and circumstance saw my intention thrown out to the universe.  I was rewarded.  It simply came in a different form than I had requested.

Getting onto the LA Live property was completely uneventful.  It wasn't particularly crowded on the Olympic side.  When I ventured around the corner with some time to spare before my shift I was dumbstruck with what I saw.  The entire plaza had been taken up by an enormous one story platform created by CNN for broadcasting live.  Beyond that, Chick Hearn had been shut down and the entire block was full of press from all over the world.  I was able to get closer to it all than anything I've wandered through in the past.  I'm sure it didn't hurt that I was wearing my Tiki room uniform.  It was completely astounding to witness it all and have famous faces walk past me in large quantities.

Surreal doesn't begin to cover what it was like from that point on but here are the highlights I can mention.

In the early evening, I had the opportunity to witness a powerful Hollywood figure do his shockingly brilliant rendition of a classic Michael Jackson dance combination not a foot away from me in what amounted to a private moment.  I rarely find myself moved by interacting with celebrities.  Even my seasoned L.A. jaded attitude was dazzled by the whole thing.  I'll probably replay it over and over again for weeks to come.

The icing on the cake was a darling woman from out of town there to attend the memorial who was bursting with the spirit of love and dance as she sashayed herself into my evening.  She named me Ginger Giggles.  She was a study in the magic of being a fabulous individual and spreading positive energy.  If anyone personified what the whole feeling was like Downtown during the MJ celebration, it was that sassy woman.

I came home feeling inspired,  touched and part of something I'll always remember.

 __wolverine__  and I went to Dances With Films last night.  It's billed as the last truly independent independent film festivals.  We arrived just minutes before the screening so we were spared the avaricious networking going on in front of the theater.  

The section we saw, containing a film he did some work on, was surprisingly good.  I've been to my share of film festivals and they tend to be uncomfortable because many of the entries are substandard in between the few good ones.  But in the case of what we witnessed, all of the films had something excellent about them.

Afterward was the networking.  I used to like it.  I don't any more.  I get tired of having to prove myself worthy of attention based on whether or not I have a project lined up in the near future.  While I could easily talk about something good coming up for me, I didn't want to play that game.  It makes me tired.  It's a vapid, annoying side of Hollywood I don't feel I am missing out on having to deal with by not being wildly successful or famous.

I waited for all of that nonsense to wear itself out and the real conversations to begin.  When it happened, the evening became far more interesting.  I had a great time and heard some fantastic stories.

Today is a small return to what I call normalcy.  __wolverine__  and I are going to the premiere of a movie he worked on last year at a little festival on Sunset Blvd.  

I've already  begun the 'what do I wear?!' routine.

We have had June Gloom dominating our weather.  Even past my exhaustion and lack of time, I have enjoyed it.  We've had the windows flung open to let in the cool (free) air.  Walking to get where I need to go has been blissfully short on sticky, sweaty travels.  I will miss it when it melts into summer heat.

If you haven't already heard, or you are not paying attention, a delightful announcement was unleashed upon the LA Metblogs audience - journalist and writer Marc Haefele is adding his marvelous gift for stringing words together to our motley bunch.  It was the thrill of my week to put  up some words of my own in close proximity to his first offering.  I'm a little short on thrills at the moment so I'm making the most of this development.

I discovered through my friend Bruce Morgan that the Motion Picture Hospital is shutting down by the end of this year amidst a sea of scandal.  It's twice as disturbing for him since his mother Yvonne De Carlo spent her final days there.  He wrote his discoveries and thoughts here.  It's a disappointing, incredible story.  I'm sure somewhere in her grave Mary Pickford is seething.

"If we have not quiet in our minds, outward comfort will do no more for us than a golden slipper on a gouty foot."  -- John Bunyan

I met an Angel on the subway today.  At least that's what she told me she was during the course of a truly remarkable conversation.  I saw no reason to dispute the fact and simply listened to what she had to say.  As it turns out, she had some timely wisdom for me.  It was frightening how accurate it was given the circumstances of my daily life.  

When my stop came, I thanked her for her time and wished her luck with her endeavors.  She gave me a verbal gift that I'll probably carry with me for some time.  No, I'm not going to share.  It was meant for me.

And then my day went to hell.  

But the extremes always come to dance in the same hour.  I just tried to get through it.  It helped that some much needed joy and appreciation came my way.  

In the ream of joy, a friend of mine who also works at the Tiki room told me she was cast in Dexter and her scene is with Dexter.  It's such an incredible accomplishment and fantastic opportunity.  I can't wait to hear all about it and see her on television.  She's a beautiful person.  It's refreshing to see someone like her find a moment of bliss.  

As for the appreciation, it was of a very high quality.  I felt lucky.  It's been a long time since I have honestly believed someone had my back outside of a very tiny group of people.  I think that's why I didn't believe it on face value and had to be in the midst of a bad situation to see it in action.

Everything is so hard right now.  But I'm getting signs to stick it out and not give up.  It will all be worth it.  

This has been the most trying transition of my entire life.

"Mix a little foolishness with your serious plans: it’'s lovely to be silly at the right moment."  -- Horace
 

Today was the first time we were allowed inside Trader Vic's LA Live.  I instantly fell in love.  It's well laid out and very swanky.  I can't wait to see it with all the finishing touches and in the proper moody lighting.  There is truly nothing like it in Los Angeles.  In fact, I kept having flashbacks of being in Hawaii the entire time I was there.  I desperately want to name the Tiki God at the door but I am biding my time to see if there are any plans to do it.

As a stark contrast to the thrill of my day job's aesthetic, I walked through two location shoots in North Hollywood on my way home.  There has been a great deal of shooting around my neighborhood in the last two months.  I feel frustrated knowing that I'd rather be on a set (or stage) than anywhere else on earth.  It's been a long time since I have had to play the game of delicately balancing survival with my dreams.  

I never did like this space and I'm already wondering how to return to being a full time creative in this current economy.

"It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere."  -- Agnes Repplier

"Happiness comes only when we push our brains and hearts to the farthest reaches of which we are capable."  -- Leo C. Rosten

'There is no creativity in Los Angeles!' is the whiney moaning of an artist who hasn't bothered to truly delve into this city.  I hear it often, mostly from East Coasters holding onto some fairy tale that true art is only created in New York.  If you cannot see the great wealth of authentic, organic and groundbreaking creativity happening here, you must be focusing all your attention on the machine you perceive to be Los Angeles rather than the sprawling, living creature that makes up this place.  That or you are getting no where fast with your 'big fish, small pond' mentality you brought with you from wherever you hail.  

Welcome to the ocean, baby.  You have to fight currents, strive for your truth and provide your own opportunities.  If you sit around expecting to be discovered or snapped up by following some formula your high school drama teacher told you was the way to make it here,  you will end up being one of those ignorant and sadly bitter people who thinks that L.A. is bereft of the burgeoning creative soul legend promised that you would find lapping at the ankles of Tinseltown's aspiring angels.

If you do not take responsibility for your own creativity, you will stagnate, flounder and fail.  

I tend to get cast in the 20 to early 30 year old range. I'm only recently starting to read for parts that hit closer to my age but they are still rare.  I don't lie about it.  I just don't bring it up.  I let people make up their own minds.  It works out well for me because for my entire life I've looked much younger than I actually am.

Recently, I met a new writer/director and we hit it off.  We spent an hour the first time we talked discussing movies.  During that conversation, I mentioned my age when bringing up the movie that made me want to be an actor.  I didn't think anything of it.  He was already reading me for roles in the usual range.  When I mentioned it in passing to __wolverine__ , he became very upset and told me I shouldn't have done that.  I thought it was silly.

I should have listened.  I should have kept my mouth shut.

Today, that same writer/director sent me a script and told me to read for a particular role.  I turned twelve kinds of white as I realized the woman was older than I am.  It wasn't even a juicy role, either.  It was some random throw away part that wouldn't build my resume, career or reel.  I was in total shock and then I realized my mistake. Because this kid is young, he has no idea that I won't be playing roles like that for at least 8 years give or take.  To him, anything over a certain age is old.  And it's all the same. He no longer viewed me in the same light all because of a number.

Age is just one more thing people use to pigeon hole others.  It can't be helped.  We have our prejudices about certain age groups.

As for me, it was a cold slap in the face until I remembered I just finished a play this past winter where I was cast opposite a 19 year old boy as my love interest and I'm currently being considered for parts in the same 20 something bracket.

You can bet your ass that I won't be volunteering my age again any time soon.  There will be plenty of time later in my life to play glorious old women when it's appropriate.

Oh, and Monday.... after this 24 hour parade of pure crap you can consider yourself fired.</lj>

On Wednesday I spent some time at Sony Studios for a meeting. While I can't discuss that due to the NDA I can comment on the quiet fan girl moment I had while in the lobby of the Sony Pictures Plaza.

On the way in I passed a glass case with a bunch of chrome objects that turned out to be prop guns and other objects from Men In Black. I tried to be stealthy about observing them and planned to take a better look on my way out.

That plan was derailed because on the way out I saw the huge display for Ghost Rider that included the Ghost Rider's hellish motorcycle. The complex had closed down for the evening so I was free to stand in utter awe and take in all the detail while dwelling in that fan-based head space that prompted me to want a creative career back when I was a little girl.

There are some days I love Hollywood and I think it's worth it to struggle so hard for an impossible dream.

"Souls don't have races or sexes or religions. They are beyond artificial divisions." -- Brian Weiss

"Beliefs separate. Loving thoughts unite." -- Paul Ferrini


This year's Oscars blew any previous show out of the water. The set design was breathtaking. Hugh Jackman proved himself to be the consummate entertainer of a calibre we rarely see these days. The production was well put together and ridiculously tight, regardless of running 30 minutes over. And the parties were off the damn hook. After nearly a year and a half of going to huge events and being grossly disappointed, I finally saw it done right.

I spent the evening in the company of other artists. For us, the Oscars were incredibly emotional, moving and inspirational. Once again, I was a little girl dreaming. I wish there was a way to bottle that sensation. It burns my blood in a way I haven't been experiencing lately. I need it to return more regularly. All of us went home last night with a little spring in our step and determined passion in our hearts.

Getting up this afternoon was all kinds of brutal. I didn't get to bed until 4 am, though I was very good and kept my drinking to two cocktails. Regardless of my responsible partying, I was wiped out in every sense of the word, barely managing to eat, dress and get out to LA Live. Then, as my twisted luck would have it, I was told I had confused the date and didn't even need to be out there. I could have stayed in bed. I returned to Hollywood to run errands in order to salvage the unnecessary burning of calories.

At least I'll sleep well tonight.

So, Christian Bale freaked out on set because of an unprofessional DP walking through shots constantly. It made the news as it seems Americans have no lives of their own to live.

But this dance remix of that audio tape is so great I can't stop listening to it.

(For the record, I think it was totally deserved to rant on the DP.)