Oooooh m'gosh

It's been awhile. It has always been a while lately. I'm lax.

This latest L.A. venture has been an odd one. It's a mash-up this time between new and old, family and friends. There are moments that remind me "this is why I don't live here." But there are other moments that make that not so clear. I think it's the days. The days in L.A. are not my cup. The nights...the nights are better. Most of the time. Half of the time.

If I lived here, where would I live?

I can't picture living here again. Sometimes, though, I wish I could scoop up certain people, certain places, certain moments, certain nights. I'd scoop them up and take them back with me to where I better belong. I'd drag their tanned asses back to New York...back where it's close and quick...back where I don't have to drive on the freeway and the night doesn't end at 2.

I'm ready for a higher echelon and a caliber of quality. I'm more than ready to say goodbye forever to the trash and the flakes and the draggers and the hangers-on. I'm done with being drained and I'm done with being less. You hear that? I'm welcoming you in, so fucking come on in. And you others? I'm kicking you out. So get the fuck out.

The Mysterious Book Club Lady

I work at Starbucks. What I mean is, I schlep my computer, power cord, books, phone, and other detritus around to various Starbucks locales in the city and get most of my "business" done while numbing my ass on one of their oh-so-comfy chairs.

I particularly like the one on Park Avenue and 29th street.

This one is my recent favorite for many reasons. Although it's within walking distance, it's far enough out of my immediate neighborhood to be relatively free of the "Murray Hill" vibe. Lisa works in the building upstairs, so sometimes she'll pop down to say hi and hang out for a little while. There are a ton of tables (several big ones) and a plethora of outlets. But best of all are the characters.

There are these two older women who frequent this location. They dress all in black and they lug giant rolling suitcases behind them. They sit at a table and apply blush. Always. That's all they do is put on makeup. Like a POUND of it. Their cheeks are so pink it's like they got hit in the face with a clown.

There's the 2by2.net or yorvoice people. They're a scam operation pyramid MLM scheme. I like to mess with them. I interrupt their sales pitches and tell all their marks exactly what's up. Oh boy do they hate me to pieces. On the other hand, the manager hates them and loooooooves me. I haven't seen them in here since the last time I made a scene at them. Hee. I think I scared them away.

Then there's the book club lady. I've only seen her twice. I'm guessing she comes once a month (typical book club thing). She arrives with satchels and spends at least twenty minutes arranging the space. She pulls together tables and chairs and lays out a veritable FEAST of food. She brings fruits and candies and cakes and crackers and chips and a whole host of goodies. She props up the books, and last time she even put out a sign. And then she takes pictures. She marks the occasion by photographing her spread. I imagine she's got a scrapbook or even a website somewhere. "Our Group" - April 2007.

The first time I saw her, the club yielded a good turnout. There were probably around eight people who showed up for the evening. I eavesdropped a little bit, because it was such a curious conglomeration. I surmised they had all responded to a post on craigslist, and hadn't known each other before that meeting. They were a weird crew, but it was kind of sweet how they all came together that night.

Tonight wasn't such a good showing. In fact, nobody showed. She set out the buffet, took her photos, and positioned herself squarely within eyesight of the entrance. She sat there for at least an hour with glasses perched on a nose buried in her book. She had one small slice of her giant lemon-iced cake. She ate a couple of Pringles and a few green grapes.

She didn't give up easily. In fact, I don't feel she gave up at all. She stayed here for so long, I imagine she must have stuck around for the entire appointed meeting time. She never got impatient and she never looked disappointed. She didn't sit there, drumming her fingers. She didn't check her phone to hunt people down. She sat. She nibbled. She read. Then she packed everything back in her bags, wiped the table clean, and walked out. She didn't look sad to me at all. She might have even had a faint smile on her lips.

After she left the Starbucks, she stopped. Right out front, on the other side of the glass directly in line with my table...she stopped. Sitting on the pavement there was one of the city's many indigent. You know, a homeless guy. A bum. The book club lady reached in her bag and began to give. She gave him the cookies and the chips. She handed over crackers and cake. She took the grapes out of the tupperware and gave those too. She stood on the sidewalk and gifted this man with all her food; the food meant for her book club full of no-shows.

I wasn't the only one who noticed her generosity. A whole group of girls who had noticed her earlier stood to marvel at her through the window. It really was stirring. The book club lady and the bum.

My eyes watered and welled. Her actions--her presence--they moved me. It was sad, beautiful, and joyful all at once. I'm so glad I was here to see it. I hope her next event has a warmer turnout. I hope she has a fulfilling night. Mine feels more fulfilled for having had her in it. Thanks, mysterious book club lady.

What A Long Strange Trip It Still Is

I have pictures pictures pictures But not yet not yet not yet.

That's the problem with this house...my laptop to internet connection kinda blows.

You know what else kinda blows? The fact that I was stuck on the runway at JFK for almost eleven hours. Yeah, ya heard me. Joie and I were on one of those horrible JetBlue flights. JetBlows. Then we spent the night on the floor of the airport. Mmmm...JFK carpet. THEN we spent the next morning fighting through more lines (the lines the lines oh god so many lines). We gave up eventually and headed back to my place. Got some sleep thanks to Benadryl and then headed out in the cover of darkness for Maryland. Maryland! Because THAT WAS THE ONLY FLIGHT WE COULD GET. We went from Maryland to LAX. Fiasco is one word. Dumbass is another.

You've never lived until you've heard a pilot announce over the intercom:

Uh, folks? Our toilet tanks are at about 99% capacity right now. So, if you don't mind...anything less than "Number Two", PLEASE DON'T FLUSH.

Dude.

But we made it. I think my bodyclock is still adjusting. It's not even jetlag. It got to a point where my entire sense of time and place was fucked. Time was just a number. (Age ain't nothin' but a number, man.)

But now we're in LA LA Land. Strange place, this. Strange stuff, this. Here I am helping my friend do what I don't want him to do. I don't want him to move. Not at all. I want him to stay in NY and be my friend and live happily ever after. But what am I going to do, throw roadblocks in his path? No. I want the people I love to be happy, even if their choice is not my choice. So I'm helping. It's a bit of a mindfuck, though.

We've done so much already and we've only been here two and a half days. And there's still so much to do. Plus now my own opportunities to explore. I'll be sittin' with swag at the Kodak theatre Thursday and Friday. And I'm more determined than ever to develop the next workshop. The standalone.

But there are multiple conundrums. Conundri? Priorities and timelines are kicking my ass a little bit. Then we get into the essence of it altogether: what the fuck is it, even? Because I don't know what I'm working towards and it sure as hell don't spark me. Sometimes it does. Little sparks. Glimpses of the sparkly possibilities. But just...not.

Time and time again I've said that I don't care
That I'm immune to gloom, that I'm hard through and through
But every time it matters all my words desert me
And anyone can hurt me
And they do
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?
Call in three months' time and I'll be fine, I know
Well maybe not that fine, but I'll survive anyhow
I won't recall the names and faces of this sad occasion
But that's no consolation here and now
So what happens now?
So what happens now?
Where am I going to?
Where am I going to?

Okay, that's not exactly appropriate and it's not exactly the whole song, but there are a few lines in there that fit really fucking well. See if you can figure out which ones. You get a lollipop if you guess right.

Practice Makes Possible

This has been a most interesting time. I feel in a way like I'm in rehearsal. This is practice for something else later on. I'm doing the prep work, that's for sure

I do believe that I'm setting the energetic stage - on more than just one level, too. Let's hope I'm not just spinning my wheels and that there is something else coming my way. I've grown far past effusive navel-gazing and intellectual masturbation. Well, maybe not the latter. I am writing this, after all.

But this better not be another pointless act. There's only so many times I can stomach that.

So. Working towards something, then? Oh bloody hell. What? Fuck the vision board, though, at least. That kind of claptrap makes me so frustrated. Perhaps its the cynical mind talking, but I just don't see how I would find it inspirational. It sounds demanding to me. Demanding of me.

You know what? The only thing I want right now is everything. That's not too much, is it? Or perhaps at the very least, my own table. My own space. Sometimes that IS too much to ask, though, I'm finding.

Cool Kudos

Someone I've never met before (but who also got certified through IIN) sent me this message:

Hi Trish,
Just wanted to say hello, and tell you I looked at your website, and woweee, young beautiful woman, you have done some major changes in your life.
What a challenge and struggle, I am sure.
I am very impressed with your website, and all you have done.
My sincere congratulations to you. It never ceases to amaze me the struggles people overcome and the brilliant work that follows.
As a long time health care Registered Nurse in every walk of health care, I say, indeed it is a pleasure and welcome event to have you in the wellness arena.
Thanks for your solid and strong efforts toward change, for the many lives you have changed and the many more to come.

Wowzers, yeah?

Yeah. That was pretty cool. Between that and the kudos I got form a client earlier today, my inspiration is ticking along nicely. It's easier to cope with a reduced client schedule and light workshop signup when the people I do reach appreciate my efforts like this.

It's easy to get swept up, isn't it? So easy to drown in the tasks of the day. It's so easy to think only about the problems that need solving, rather than celebrating what has already been accomplished.

Let that be a reminder to you. You aren't going to sprain your shoulder by patting yourself on the back once in a while. It's allowed and well deserved.

That's All? That's A Lot.

There are so many things going on...where to start?

I've been having houseguests lately. Well, just one repeated houseguest. And it's easy! First, they are a very good houseguest. But also, I'm not the neurotic control freak I once was. I recall far too easily the anxiety that would rise up when the possibility of a houseguest was in the works. "How would I have my morning? How would I watch TV? How would I go to the bathroom? (Okay, that one is still a problem. I get potty-shy.) Would they eat my food? Would they be messy? My life was going to be totally disrupted and I would never recover and I would die!!!!"

Yeah. I know. But that was the least of the craziness going on in this noggin.

So anyway, I don't feel that anymore. What a frigging relief! The ease is what makes me so happy. Of course having someone new in your house is a disruption...but it isn't a DISRUPTION. It's doable, manageable, and actually quite a bit of fun. I must say, I am more productive when someone else is around. I'm far less likely to be a lazy lump. Because it's embarassing.

Okay, what else...

Oh yeah...IT WAS ALWAYS HIM AND IT WAS NEVER ME!!! What a douchebag. Had a conversation yesterday with someone I should really try and avoid at all costs. Toxic doesn't even begin to describe him. But anyway. I always fall into a position of defensiveness and justification when I speak with him. What still pisses me off to no end is that when I first see him (or even someone who looks like him) my heart skips a little beat. But the very next second the words "giant cocksucker" float into my consciousness, so that's okay then.

I have so many things on my mind right now, it's hard to boil it down. And it's hard to remember to do everything that needs to be done. A partial list:

• Write back to the myriad friends who have emailed or myspaced or texted me
• File my DBA in NY (only a year late)
• Fix my finances
• Advertise (build a brochure, network, set up tables, utilize my connections and resources)
• Find and rent office space
• Find a buy a new apartment
• Do my bloody errands (lame shit like buying toothpaste)
• Shop for clothes (not fun. I don't like to shop but I have no clothes.)
• Research and prep my workshop (this entails so many steps I don't even want to think about it)
• Clean/straighten/organize everything
• Go food shopping. I have some old broccoli and kale in the fridge and that's about it.
• Try to remember all the other things I keep forgetting to do and finally do them so I don't stay up until 3 in the morning worrying about what I'm forgetting to do.

That's all.

Working Woman...Wow!

Okay, seriously? This is lame, but I have to brag. Yes, brag. It is 11 pm on a Saturday night and I have spent the last six hours...working! For work. Like, on my computer. But not at a cafe, which is usually the case (I'm hopelessly distracted at home). I've been working! Yay me!

I know for most, this isn't such a humongous accomplishment. And, sure, I do plenty of work without the need to report it. But it's Saturday. And I hadn't planned or scheduled to work. Usually when I don't consciously set the time aside, it just don't happen.

So. Is this lame because I'm working on a Saturday night? Or is it lame because I'm so darned proud of it? Mmm...probably both. It's a little super-lame. I don't care.

Know what's not lame? I was interviewed to be written about in a book. A whole article plus a bio with contacts. That's not lame. Know what else isn't lame? I was contacted by a publishing editor to do some freelance writing for industry magazines. Also not lame.

My friends are excelling, too. I'm SO proud and happy for them. New jobs, new school, new opportunities, new ventures, new outlooks. So lovely...

Chugga chugga

Whoooo-eeeee!

Dayum, I done got a fire lit under my ass.

Doin' lots of stuff, gettin' lots done. It pisses me off that the ass lit the fire, but at least the fire is lit. Then again, it's debatable whether that was the spark. I do tend to go in cycles, and most of this was set up prior to his involvement. And I do not approve of Machiavellian methods. Not in the least.

My clients are awesome. We've been having some really amazing sessions.

And now I do Reiki!!! My cooooool massage table just arrived yesterday, too. I am SO looking forward to client sessions. I think that's going to be another very satisfying venture.

I'm gonna' keep truckin', keep chuggin', keep on keepin' on.

Long Time No Tippy-Type

It's been awhile.

I've been busy.

I'm glad I'm busy, that's a good thing. Although I feel a little like I'm losing myself in all the commotion. Sometimes it's fun to not recognize my life. Sometimes it's just tiring.

That has been a problem. I'm so TIRED all the time. I'm not getting any less sleep (although many people have argued to me that 5 to 7 hours is not enough to begin with) but I'm more tired than I was, say, a month ago. Maybe it's not anything to do with getting less sleep, but rather I'm doing more in the time I'm awake.

It's tough being a responsible adult. I'm doing all that crazy stuff like paying my bills on time, keeping my apartment neat and presentable, juggling social activities, delving into school and studies, building my private practice. I mean, DAMN!

There's a leeetle bit of my snotty princess-y rebellious inner teenager wanting to be an irresponsible brat. She's rearing her ugly head quite a bit lately. It's like the closer I get to accountable responsibility and self-care, the more she wants to fuck up.

On an entirely different note altogether...

My mom read my blog

Yeah.

If you've ever read my earlier posts (especially "Fucker Mother" and various posts written during the holidays) you'll realize that's not exactly a good thing. I can be a bit harsh. A tad.

Surprisingly, she was cool. Way cool. Yeah, I just said "way cool". We ended up laughing our butts off over my gingerbread house and by the end of the conversation we were swapping recipes. Go figure.

Stage Sickness

Ugh. Experimental theater.

Again I say ugh.

I went to a friend's show tonight. It was a little piece of CRAP mounted on the lower east side. That kind of thing makes me glad to not be involved in theater at the moment. Good god I am so sick of seeing BAD theater. I can't even remember the last time I saw a good show.

I'm so not into theater right now. Was I ever, really? I was into doing it, just not so much watching it. It's like when I played piano. My favorite to play was classical; but I've always hated listening to classical music. And singing? Loved singing showtunes; but hated llistening to them. As a teenager I loved writing poetry. Never liked reading it.

What's up with that divide? Is it a common phenomenon? Common phenomenon. That's fun to say.

Now, when it comes to health and counseling stuff...I like doing it, I like reading about it, I like researching it, I like talking about it, I like the people involved in it.

Integration, I think, is what's happening here. And it's way cool.

A Good Problem to Have?

I have been invited to become part of an already well established holistic health company. To start off with, I would be the client care specialist, with the opportunity to become one of their team of counselors after more training within the company.

Becoming a part of this organization would severely curtail my own ability to start a private business. However, it also offers a rare possibility to become a part of something that could become huge. I know that many other people are clamoring for this position that is being offered to me, all of them already graduates of IIN. But I don't know if it is what I want.

One argument in favor of joining this company is that it is SERIOUSLY hard to start your own successful business. My father did it. He built a multi-national publicly traded empire from the extra room in our condo. It took ALL his time and energy. He is totally type "A" self-starter. I am extremely organized, abundantly creative, and fiercely independant. But I'm also lazy and I hate the "entrepreneurial" side of business. One of the reasons I turned my back on the acting world (at least for the time being) is that I hated having to constantly promote myself. It was like being on a never-ending job interview. I fear that the procuring clients aspect and marketing aspect of starting my own business will be too daunting to me, even though i want the freedom and flexibility to be beholden to no one.

This is a limited time opportunity. I need to take advantage of it now. I've been assured that if I have special side projects, I would be free to pursue them. If I choose to build a client base that is not at all in conflict with their client base, I could see clients outside of their practice. I would be supported in building and leading workshops. This could be a golden freaking opportunity. I wonder if it is only my own fears of the unknown that is holding me back. Am I afraid of success?

I know that, however well intentioned people are, and however well crafted Joshua's methods for business building are, it is really really hard to make it on your own. It is extremely difficult to build a successful business, especially if one is doing it all by themselves. Would I be well advised to take advantage of what is being offered to me?

I know nobody would be able to give me 'THE ANSWER'. I know I can only come to that decision for myself. But I would greatly appreciate any input or advice.

Struck Sure

I am challenged by structure. It's just not my strong suit. Yet it's what I need so badly in order to not get lost in the nebulousness of my life. Nebulousness. It's a word. Now, anyway.

I haven't had a job in a loooong time. This is not a good thing for many reasons. Most importantly, I feel like a child when I'm not earning my own way in life. Less importantly, but vital for my well-being: without a job, I lack built-in structure.

I've learned to create artificial structure by having workout appointments, doctor's appointments, classes, workshops, and therapy. But when it comes to organizing the rest of my life, I fall short. Especially when I'm trying to accomplish anything where I'm not accountable to others. Even if it's something I really want to do.

I've been wanting to/meaning to paint this image I have in my brain now for a few months. But because nobody except myself is attached to the project, it just hasn't gotten done.

Today I worked for several hours at a cafe. Okay, I sort of have a job right now. I'm doing some freelance work for holistic health counselors. But here's the thing: I can't work at home. And I have to have internet access to do my job. So I bundle my things together and trek downtown to internet cafes. (The ones around here are cold and lifeless. Or Starbucks. Same thing.) At least out in a cafe, my little ADD brain has enough stimuli so that I don't find myself sabotaging my work with television, personal internet fun and games, phone calls, and myriad other distractions.

I look forward to the day when I can organize my days effectively. I look forward to being able to get work done at home. I look forward to accomplishing projects that matter to no-one but myself. For now, I'll sling my messenger bag over one arm and my laptop over the other. Look for me in the coffee bars.

Identity Cry-sees

My common refrain: Any change, even if positive, wanted, and welcome, brings with it an element of identity crisis. Even small, simple things can do this. Think about the readjustment necessary to get used to a rearranged desk or a new haircut or even a different brand of toothpaste.

The possible anxiety increases when it is linked to personal changes. I lost a ton of weight (over 80 pounds). I am no longer “the fat girl”. So now where do I fit in my social sphere? Even thought I didn’t like it, I knew who I was when I was the fatty. It took time, but I pretty much knew how I fit in now without my armor of blubber.

I worked through and grew out of many of my numerous anxieties and other neuroses. So I’m no longer the helpless victim. But stepping into this new identity of capable healthy adult still feels quite a bit new and strange.

I’m no longer the stoner. No longer the wannabe goth. I’m no longer a smoker, no longer the angry one. I’m no longer a late-night partier; no longer the girl who sleeps all day. I’m no longer shy or conversely, sexually inappropriate. I’m no longer manipulative or childish.

So what am I then? Who am I? Well isn’t that just the corny adolescent question of the ages. Bleah!

If we’re defining ourselves through what we do, I don’t even have a clear answer on that anymore. Since I was two months old, my identity has been laced up tight as “actor”. A little early to box yourself in to a lifelong role. Up until recently I thought it would always be that way. There just weren’t any other viable alternatives. It wasn’t a question. Wasn’t a possibility.

But now—now I’m getting certified to be a holistic health counselor. I’m gently nudging into the spiritual realm. I’m enveloping myself in a culture of health. It is strange, frightening, and glorious.

The other day, I was walking down the street with my iPod on; out in the world, but using the sound barrier to focus inward. I thought about the new amazing turn my life is taking. I thought about the new abundance of fantastic things going on. I thought about how beautifully different my life is now when compared to a year ago, even six months ago. Even three. I felt my own energy coursing through me. I felt so open and aware and blessed. The words: “I am a Supernova” became lodged in my brain. And tears started springing from my eyes. Tears of joy, relief, and utter amazement. For a few moments, I was able to just “be” with this incredible feeling. Then, of course, it scared the hell out of me (just a leetle) and I had to tamp down the emotions just a tad. But they were real and true and I’m glad I had that experience.

I’m not clear on who I’m going to be. But I have a pretty good idea of where I am. And for once I have faith in my future. That’s a concept that has, in the past, eluded me. This is the best identity crisis yet.