LIVING DREAMS

It's April 16, 2020. This is a period that we'll all remember. Locked up. Shuttered in. Afraid to go outside. Afraid to touch people. Afraid. Because death by an unseen, mysteriously lurking, secretly attacking virus is right there. I've been sick. It started on April 4. I had intestinal issues for about 8 days. That's a polite ladylike way of saying I spent hours and hours in the bathroom and my body was rejecting everything I put into it. By April 10 I decided to call a doctor. Never mind the form-fitting jeans and the flat stomach I was happy about, I knew that this wasn't a good thing. She asked the usual questions -- fever? able to smell? achy? So I managed a liquid-only diet for 17 hours before digging into some ramen, and started monitoring my temperature, as she suggested. 98  -  97.1 -  97.2  -  97.6  -  97.6  -  then it was 99.7. Then it was 99.8. Then it was 100. Those last three were in the span of 2 hours. I've told the...

a.k.a. The Pursuit of All Good Things With my girl gone on her own life adventure, I'm trying to up my game. No excuses allowed. I'm writing daily -- I'm working on a new book adaption at this very moment and it's super exciting and challenging and fun. But life is big and what am I doing with the rest of my waking hours? Over the last 2-3 years the game has changed. After years of running, soccer, triathlons, running some more, yoga, all of it -- my body is worn out. I've tried all the usual tricks but I have no juice. I paid for personal training. I signed up for a couple of runs. I fixed up my bike and even got a new bike rack. Nothing's working. I'm doing hikes now. I can do 6 miles easy. Just walking. But that's all I have left. So I'm realizing that I need to tune up the machine -- and that means me. I've been an athlete since I was about 10. I have running ribbons from 4th grade, and competed in track all the way through college. I...

I’m not sure what I was thinking when I booked my flight. I knew I had to fly into Geneva and fly out of London. But finding something affordable was the kicker. So I booked with SAS and oddly agreed to a 3-way flight in and a 9-hour layover out - through Stockholm between Heathrow and LAX. And it wasn’t any normal layover. My flight would land at 12:15 am and my connecting flight would depart at 945 am. Call me nuts. As an experienced traveler, I should have known better. But I digress... I would be on the road for 24 days in July but as the days went on I realized that that 9-hour layover was hanging over my head like a fat cloud. Let’s call it a premonition. I tried to change my flight but SAS offered zero direct flights from London to LA. Who doesn’t offer that? I considered contacting a couple of people I knew but realized pretty quickly that only one of them would be up for the task of entertaining me at those ungodly hours. But he was busy. He looked for things for me to do ...

In the midst of all this... so much going on, sometimes I can't breathe. Laid off. Sold my car. Bought a new one. Put my house on the market and moved everything down to LA. Lost a dear, dear friend. Started writing a new script. Finished a short script. Daughter got accepted to school in the UK (she's leaving in Sept) and after three weeks I finally got an offer on my house.  In the meantime, I'm feeling a bit melancholy about leaving the Shire. I see posts from friends and fun things going on, and yet, I'm not going back. There's nothing for me there. I did 10 years, and hung on for another two years, and now finally I'm ready to let go. It's a tornado, a life tornado. The first month was getting my feet on the ground. Month two threw me into the fire pit. Month three, I'm knocking it down, but it hurts. It's physically painful. And after six years of sharing, gone yet again. And I can't take any more. This is when we realize who our frie...

I launched this blog in Jan 2008 , months after the sudden death of my friend Michael Z. For weeks I was feeling so awful that I hadn't been there for him or around after he died -- until he came to me in a dream and told me to get over it. He even laughed at me. Fucker. Even in death he was spot on and sometimes a dick.  This week another train hit me. So hard I'm in pieces. G is gone. I got the call on a Thursday afternoon. Victim of a homicide, those words keep ringing in my ears. It's been a week and I've been crying every day. Multiple times a day. I'm devastated. Heartbroken. Crushed. Shocked, and utterly confused. What? How? Why?? I met G, aka the Janitor, in 1999 or so. He took me shopping for my first mp3 player at the now-shuttered Circuit City. I nursed him while he struggled with an ulcer and had to hide the coffee from him when he kept insisting that it didn't bother his stomach. I called in a favor with an old gambling buddy and got a bunch...

It's been months and while there might be loads to say or write or scream or whisper or even SING about, I'm exhausted. My body is failing me. Seriously, literally, in all the ways it can. I've been reduced to becoming a veggie/pescaterian and while it's not an enormous struggle, it reminds me daily that I cannot simply eat what I want anymore, which is essentially meaning I CANNOT LIVE HOW I WANT. Next weekend my brother is getting sworn in as a judge so I'm flying to Oakland to witness this historic event, and at the same time, my cousin offered me Clippers v Warriors tickets. FML. There's no winning on this bench, folks. So to console myself about my ill health and my frustrated libido and lifestyle, I've gone out purchasing -- new speakers, no stereo cabinet, new shoes, socks, facial, hair dyed, threaded eyebrows.  But all I really want is a new keyboard. REALLY WANT. For all that I could have purchased it. Crap. In the meantime, my house and my bedr...

I don't typically write in this blog about people I don't know. Hell, I don't write it about anyone but me and my friends and family, but today I'm consumed by the sudden, unexpected death of Anthony Bourdain. My sister Valentine confessed to me years ago that she had a violent crush on Señor Bourdain. I didn't get it, but what I did see was his amazing lust for life. Here was a man who was in his mid 40s by the time he found his voice, and from there he crafted a life that he lived passionately. No Reservations is right. It was his truth, and he took us on a journey that was less about  haute cuisine  and more about real people living real lives eating real food. The eulogies and remembrances are vast and tearful and come from all walks of life, but universally they say the same thing: We loved him. We wanted to live his life. We wanted to BE him. And I think I can say that what we all wanted to be is that version of ourselves that's truthful and blunt an...

Ted Nasmith, Green Hill Morning I finished my script in Sedona and shipped it out to 7 people to review. I'm so grateful for their time, their wisdom, their insightful input. It's never easy to carve up your creation, but it became a leaner and meaner story due to their keen eyes. I ended up cutting out 3 scenes, rewriting 4 other scenes, and removing some of the heavy-handed dialogue. It's on its way. May 1 was the Nicholls deadline for screenwriting. And now I wait. Last year when I moved from the Shire to Gondor, I left knowing what I was leaving, intent on focusing wholly on writing and creating. I still think about the Shire and the lovely hills I called home for 10 years, where I still own my house and have a posse of friends who would welcome me with open arms. But Gondor is my home now. It's alive with so many options, ideas, people, energy... and I've managed to finish three scripts in the past year, which in retrospect is a phenomenal feat for som...

It's been three months since my last post. If I rewind my life over those weeks and weeks, I can see a trend that's happened throughout my life: God - Family/Friends - Work. This is the magical trifecta that I juggle. And by God, I do mean the Great Creator, the Divine, Nature, Breathing, all of it. It's often distracted me from my work. The divine joys, the excursions, the moments of bliss, they all combine to take me down the lovely and always-enticing road of pleasure. So I've worked very hard to avoid indulging myself in that side of life. I focus a few precious moments on connecting with the greater life forces around me and beyond me, and then drag myself back to the day, the present, the Work. For those of you keeping score, yes, I left that mind-number, dollar-crunching scenario and took more money out of my deep reserves to continue writing. When you cry three times in a week in your work, because of your work, it's time to go. I never cry at work, and ra...

April 2017. This was the month my daughter turned 21. It was also the month that I uprooted my life to move to Hollywood, and ended up renting an apartment with JTM - The Crafter - to complete a play I had started in New Orleans a couple of weeks earlier, where I hunkered down for three weeks of intense location scouting and research. Oh, and I was also accepted into the Cambridge Writer's Workshop so there's that. It's now February 2018. Ten months later, and I've completed the play, a feature script and an outline for a romantic comedy. I've also fleshed out the idea for updating a classic noir film - and finished a big chunk of the research to go along with it. I'm excited, and most importantly, content. This is the life that I've actively charged into. Willfully. Consciously. With intent. I've had so many ideas cooking in my head for years I was afraid they'd disappear. I have random notebooks and half-finished stories lying around everywh...

The last two months have been agonizingly slow and incredibly fast at the same time. Over the last 48 hours I've finally started to feel nearly normal again. The cough-cold-flu-pneumonia bug beat me up from the inside out, but honestly, it seems like a natural thing when you consider it was at the end of the year over the holidays when not much is happening and everything is happening at the same time. A la fois, as they say in French. Spent a few days in Portland, Oregon, on the tail end and worked like a horse. Spent 2 solid days in sweats drinking tea and madly crafting a crazy, silly, engaging romantic comedy. Treatment is done, so now I'm hunkering down doing movie homework and period research before embarking on the official script. I'm obsessed and doing exactly what I love. Travel. Writing. Exploring. Living. This was my second visit to Portland since August, when I had the chance to explore a town I'd never really been in before. It's got an interes...

In my quest to LIVE the LIFE we all DREAM of I have the luxury of asking myself daily if I'm doing what I want to be doing and living the life I want to live. And I'm still saying YES. I've packed my bags and I'm off to the airport tomorrow, on my way to Portland to have a 5-day writing fest with Master G. We're writing a romantic comedy and it's going to be amazing. I say this only because G is a clever, witty man. And while I'm not terribly clever nor exceptionally funny, I am quite crafty and a skilled writing kind of gal. So he's offered to help me on this quest to finish my fifth screenplay -- this one with the goal to get made and to submit it all around to everyone who's willing to read it and produce it. In the midst of this, I've been invited to two weddings, and have planned two more trips. And still, I don't have much of an income coming in, so my joy won't last much longer. I don't know how I'm pulling it off...

Since my Feb 15 departure from corporate America, it's been a long uphill climb to reclaim my soul. Not straight uphill. Nope. Up. Then flat. Then down. Then really down to the depths. Then partly back up. Then flying high. Then crashing down. Let's just say the ride's been NON-LINEAR. I have laughed more. And cried more. And been more bored, and more tired, and more excited, and more confused than I have in the last 10 years. And it's fucking awesome. My window is small, so I'm not going to take a lot of time here. But I've found myself in the same space as always -- How do you own your own soul, hold the line, defend your borders, and still have kindness, peace and light? My heart hurts, but I think I'm getting close. Compassion and pure love is so fleeting. I'm trying to hold onto that light as it tries to flutter away in the breeze. So light. Yet so strong. And I will let it take me off the ground if I need to. Even if I want to flip ...

In October 2016 I finally gave notice that I was leaving my corporate job. And by February 16 I was out the door. Today I'm lying on my bed in Hollywood, California, preparing to hunker down for what might be months and months of couch-surfing, homeless living, and an attempt to retake and re-engage in my life. The lovely Linda Cassidy on her bike in New Orleans. We became friends through Michael Zivick, my inspiration for this blog. There's a lot that's happened in between then and now, but I will just say for the moment that I am reclaiming my voice. I find myself writing everyday and it's been a long time since I've been in that warm place that I call home. I had months of planning behind me and was determined to take it slow and steady. I spent the first month resting, sleeping in, cleaning house, and organizing my life. By March 15 I was on a plane to New Orleans, and on April 10 I had temporarily moved to an apartment right into the beating heart of LA...

It's been years since my last post, but the messages resonate and I've decided to reclaim myself, my life, my friendships and the world I left behind for a bit. Reclaim and Restore. My daughter is in transition. She'll be leaving in two weeks to continue her second year of college. And that will be it. She will come to visit, but no longer will she really come live with me. It's been heartbreaking and I've shed a thousand tears over the last few days. It's the first time I've let her see that and probably the first time I've actually let myself feel that with her. At the same time my heart is full for her. So exciting. I totally and absolutely support her journey and will do whatever I can to push her toward the success I know she deserves and is capable of. My journey is not hers and it's time for ours to separate. Which leaves me in the partially planted, sparsley tended, and undeveloped field that has become my life over the last few years. ...

November is here now and I'm in the middle of my favorite time -- right before the holidays, when it's still warm but cool enough to be cozy, and in the middle of all the fun stuff like Halloween, school band concerts, soccer, volleyball and planning for 2010. Sometimes I think my head will explode with excitement. I finished 13.1 miles on August 30 @ the inaugural Santa Rosa Marathon, and have since spent the last two months doing yoga and lifting weights. My back is in horrific pain... but on Halloween night I dressed up as a ghost and ran 1/2 mile back to my car, scaring little kids as I went. Then yesterday did 21 miles on my bike down Chileno Valley Road. Not bad. I think I'm ready to run again! I've been really busy preparing for the production of my film and keeping up with work so there's been no time to ponder my own simple pleasures. Well, at the moment, I don't think I have any. Just working hard on my goals, really really hard. For film suppor...

I have this wonderful friend, LK, was my roommate in graduate school. We met in French class and have become life-long friends. She inspired me to continue my journey with religion and showed me that you can be smart and focused and faithful and sweet all at the same time. She has remained true to herself in the best possible way. And despite an unhappy marriage, she stood through it strong and proud with her faith by her side. One of my favorite memories was of going to the old Italian Catholic church in Monterey, an old adobe building with old wooden benches... just beautiful. She has in the last few years been challenged by the worst of challenges -- divorce, death, sickness, work -- but has unfailingly continued to pray for others and stay the course to remain the best parent and best human being she can be, even if she has so many times had to put herself second, or third, or way down the line. L- in the middle, on a rare visit to CA, with her college friend Amy I often ge...

I have discovered that things change when you get older -- and I'm referring to culture, exploits, adventures, people. Maybe I'm just perceiving things differently, which is all too likely, but my feeling is that culturally we're in the dead zone. Where are the real people? The characters. those politically incorrect, charming and forceful speak-your-mind kind of people. The people who are true to themselves and don't give a rat's ass about what people think. The ones that do and say what makes them happy. My auntie Darlene was one of those. So were David Carradine and Quentin Crisp. The talented David Carradine died this last week. Part of me is actually quite sad. He was not only talented, but he was unique and driven, and had not only moved past his Kung Fu persona, but actually lived truer to it then he probably would have imagined. He was an artist, and a real friend to many, but also a creator of characters that had depth and pain. A real person portraying...