Madglory's Glory

Odd Jobs

2014-02-12T22:44:00.000-08:00

I’ve had many odd jobs through the years, or “jobby jobs” as most freelance artists call them, and as far as odd jobs go, this new one compares with the best of them. As a sometimes struggling artist, it's important to keep the employment-that-doesn't-serve-your-higher-goals in check and non-committal, as the term “jobby job” inherently by its creation denotes. Because you aren’t there to stay - it’s a means to an end. I think this latest one demands a nod. A good friend turned me on to it. I get to experience a real slice of other people’s lives. I make my own hours, and as a writer, this is a dream come true. But as a woman who wants to affect some positive change in this world, it’s nice for a temporary fit.

I drive for a cab company. Two actually. And the job requires spending time in an enclosed space at close proximity with complete strangers, if only for a matter of minutes, and it has opened my eyes to new ways of encountering strangers. First, I must remark on how quickly and readily people are able to place faith in an unknown human behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. It's incredible that people can feel so free to open up to a complete stranger. So many people going through very real things, and very willing to share. The human element has returned to Los Angeles for me, a much needed sense of community.

The job involves a lot of trust. For that, I always make sure to be the safest driver on the road. I am very watchful, and protective of my passengers. I must first put them at ease. Then I can ask questions, if the mood allows. And some people share really beautifully private things. I like to help them sort through it - we are all struggling through something. Sometimes an outsider’s point of view is just what a personal situation needs. I am generally moved by the human condition by nature. Everyone’s got his or her brand of battle, it's something we all share in common. Inviting a new ear on the matter, in the articulated retelling and paying attention to one's own voice, can lead to new ways of tackling the problem. I've seen more than a few shells crack wide open.

We all have it in us to conquer our challenges like a boss, yet we can’t operate in vacuums. I’d love to say that I can solve all my humps in the road by myself, but that would hardly represent the truth. Having a compassionate family helps. Great friends go for miles. Instinct is key. And trust in one’s self is your home base. From there, you can have at it. And learn from your choices because no outcome is certain.

Now, being in a position to be a friendly ear gives me a sense of purpose that transcends the making of the mighty dollar. I feel present. Undoubtedly, the road focuses me. But so does adjusting my energy and receptivity to each human that enters my car. An important skill to develop – reading your opponent. In any/every interaction. Keeps you sharp.

Those passengers that rise to the top of the crop are usually the ones who initially are polite and sweet to start, then slowly reveal very telling things about themselves. Whether it’s the girl in a messy ponytail with a spark in her eyes talking about her management job that’s stressing her health, or the Asian businessman who’s about to divorce his wife. They all matter. The clicking, purring Arabian queens turning on high their ipods that spew American teeny-bop music, or the hung-over hump in a thick overcoat with temperatures reading 97 degrees who projectile vomits out of my passenger window, a never-ending orange spray, with a perfectly positioned cluster of elementary school kids looking on and pointing and screaming. They all matter to me. I take pleasure in sifting through the mud with them, when appropriate. Throw around a few ideas on how to solve the problems of the world with real options - and it’s like watching flowers bloom. People can be so surprisingly articulate with the important stuff, the very things in their lives that have a tentacle on their attention. The issues that need rather immediate solving, utilizing our spare time together to talk about it. I don't ask frivolous questions (unless you want to talk about the weather, in which case, I can celebrate LA's weather ALL DAY and boo/hiss what's happening to my home state NY) because time-is-oh-so-very-precious these days. We have to be ace problem solvers in this day and age. And thankfully, I think people are still anxious to learn from each other. We are every one of us students, after all. Why wouldn’t we encourage each other? I’ll tell you this - it gives me hope for humanity. I'll take that where I can get it.

Why Dance Alone

2013-03-28T01:49:00.000-07:00

Most often, we search out experiences because of the way they make us feel. The better the experience, the more we gravitate towards it. When we can't have what we want, a certain shift occurs, a hopelessness. Yet we must never buckle under the supposed gravity of the loss. It's unfortunate that this life has given us too much, so much so that things (and people) can become disposable. Sometimes we let things get wasted instead of celebrated.

I know as a writer, I mustn't ever give up. Writing is a tough enough road. I really only think about giving up when I'm sad. Because sadness is directly linked to defeat. But WHY would I give up? What would I do if defeated - move home and be an absolute terror to my family, emblazoned with the knowledge dreams have been relinquished? What are my dreams - to make a difference. What does making a difference mean to me? Changing people's lives for the better. Making things matter. Shining light where there was once ignorance, darkness and pain. I vow to fill the world with more joy and less suffering. A tall order, I know.

This last week has been very challenging for me. I was forced to look at my life, in lieu of my "planning". I was told by a good friend early on - an Italian from Italy, no less - when it comes to love not to have expectations. But when you meet someone who captures your attention, someone you've granted their presence as having real value - you want to hear what they have to say and you want what they're saying to be true. We all do. It's our lives, our futures.

That shifted, and I felt at times during this week a deep sadness at what could be but may never be. When the pain finally abated, I realized again that my future matters. I was able to breathe and think. And what I surmised is this: Nothing is ever over. And forces that bring people together will bring them together again. The only thing I count on is the day. Because my heart races with possibility. I am at the helm. Ready to love, feel, and hopefully not ever cringe. I know what it's like to be doubled over in pain due to loss. Losing something meaningful sucks.

Happily, I have in my tool kit a tool that I either picked up along the way and polished over the years, or it was gifted me through good parenting, The wherewithal to stand up and strengthen my spine (See Steel Your Spine http://madglory.blogspot.com/2010/07/steel-your-spine.html). To always tackle the next challenge, whether that's with my relationships with friends, family or a potential partner. *Family constitute more forgiving creatures, such is the nature of unconditional love*. I have remained true to myself for so many years. The instinct I have cultivated has served me well. I continue to listen to it as it continues to activate when needed most. I am unafraid to stand up for myself, knowing self worth is always more than half the battle. Too many bad choices are made because of self-doubt. Downward spirals usually follow.

This life doesn't stop being tough, but it doesn't have to be crippling. Figure out the things you love and do them. Have the discipline to follow through. Find the people you love and move towards them as much as possible. They teach you and make you laugh. They open your eyes to new ways of looking at things, including yourself. You love them for a reason. And everything else about this skewed world can be managed when you are at one with yourself. When you can stop, and feel the sunshine on your face. That moment is all yours. Take it.

I went for a hike today up a mountain. Now, I know it's more of a hill - I lived in Colorado as a child and climbed a volcano that was 1,700 meters in Bali at 3 am as an adult, and I know a mountain when I see one - but this hill will surrender its limitations to location and allow me to relay this thought. It's not the climbing of the mountain that matters. Not even that you made it to the top and back. It's the tenacity to do so. It's that will that gets you off the couch, when you'd rather stay at home in your sweat pants, distracting yourself with some random pastime. I have plenty of shameful, self-imposed distractions (Damn you, Candy Crush Saga! I resign! A game that has you believing it's remotely based on skill. I call bullshit on that. I started to feel like the old folks belly up to the slot machines in Old Vegas, murdering time.) What matters is what's next. It's your show. You're in charge. And I say take it. Take charge over the things that distract and distress you, and let go of crap. There is still so much to explore, so much unraveling. Travel light.

I think of my Papa, who said if he had been born a woman, he would have wanted a life like mine. His words honor me. It's time to make my Papa proud. Shedding any sadness and doubt, never giving up faith in finding a dance partner, and fulfilling my word to myself to live a a life well lived. It's out there, and I am finding it. Piece by piece, trusting every step. As long as you like the company you keep, you're doing fine.

The Irony of Content

2013-01-09T23:11:00.000-08:00

This last year was the most brutal year of my life. They say life doesn't get easier, you just gain maturity through life's lessons and become more well equipped to deal with the curve balls. I'm going to agree with that theory, and raise it a holy-hell-what-the-fuck-was-that. I'm the oldest I've ever been, and have struggled most of my life. Yet nothing can explain away the pain of discovering that your choices have led you so far astray from your true path, the path you were meant to tread. The ultimate relief is finding myself on the periphery of this exhaustive dark fog that had permeated my thoughts, skewed my judgment, stifled my talents and ultimately compromised my goals. The worst part is it made me trust myself less.

Finally, I am feeling like myself again. It is indeed good news to feel that dreadful fog lifting, and to be reminded - once again - that everything will be alright. I had (shamefully) allowed others to hurt me deeply, even though it is a lesson my mother taught me years ago - if someone tries to take your joy away from you, you stick it in their ass. Those people have been successfully removed from my life completely and I certainly wish them well, regardless of the pain they cause. Earning money these last few years has been challenging, and now I'm finally figuring out some ways to earn that will not only satisfy my basic needs, but also allow for my bigger projects to take shape. Because, as I see it, if I'm not willing or able to invest in myself, how can I expect others to do so? My family and friends are happy and healthy. And my heart feels safe. For the first time in a very long while - as long as I can remember, in fact - I feel content. It's a strange feeling for an artist, because very often it's the strife and struggle that compels us to crawl through broken glass on bare knee to write and sing and mold something into being, to represent - however trivial - the way this life can make us feel, in hopes to make sense of the chaos that constantly surrounds us. As if to help heal the hurt, we howl loudly at times just to ensure someone around us will hear it and make it better. I know that need for recognition well. I've been so lost, desperate for consolation and validation. Those were not my proudest moments, but the fear of being insignificant was real. My struggles were worn like a badge, thinking without them, I couldn't create.

And just like that (snaps fingers) it's gone. I no longer feel the need to prove anything anymore, to anyone - especially to myself. I already know I can do it, whatever it is. I've been through the worst of it, and I've come out the other side more myself than ever before. What remains is a white-hot desire to follow through on the seeds I've planted, with room in my garden for more. I feel more creative and capable in the calm in my heart, then I ever did in the senseless confusion. The next step is the ultimate joy of watching those seeds GROW.

Answer America

2011-10-09T20:24:00.000-07:00

Like many others I know, I am angered by the current economic conditions people all over this country (and the world) are facing. Nothing makes you feel smaller than not knowing what you as an individual can do to make a change for yourself and others. Indeed, as children, we are taught if we work hard and follow our dreams, we will have the success we have earned and undoubtedly deserve. Without that opportunity to do what we were trained to do, without menial jobs to put food in our bellies, it makes it almost impossible to believe this country has the American Dream to offer anymore.

I have been following the Occupation of Wall Street with more than just a healthy curiosity, but with genuine interest in contributing in any form. When I was invited by a friend to join the protest of the 10-year anniversary of the war in Afghanistan, of course I jumped at the chance. If anything, I told myself, I’ll take a few pictures.

Initially, I was intimidated. I was surrounded by such impassioned people and I couldn’t seem to find my voice to repeat the chants. Mainly because it taps into my rage that innocent people are being killed every day. And that the war is costing $330 million a day. The soldiers that come back who are suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder are not receiving proper care. That it’s been going on for 10 years!!! The list goes on and on. How could this modest protest make a difference in the face of our country’s incessant war mongering? It seems our government has outgrown us, we the people, and our voices no longer matter. Even as I write this, the president I voted for, who promised to bring our troops home, has not made good on that promise. I don’t know who or what to believe anymore.

At one point in the protest, they played the sounds of an air raid over loud speakers and asked everyone to lay down on the ground. I took a photo from a crouched position and really began to listen to the sounds over my head. I imagined I was a soldier fighting over there, and that this was a sound that I awoke to, alerting us of an impeding air strike. I was overwhelmed with emotion and began to cry. I buried my face in my hand, fearful for all those men and women who are fighting a war they no longer believe in. Watching the people they served alongside them dying every day. How unfair it all seemed to me. Justice for no one.

As the sun set, a group of Aztec Indians, dressed in full garb, came forward led by a beautiful Elder. They performed a ceremonial dance that had everyone standing around in delight and awe of the beauty of such ancient, skilled formation. The Elder began chanting, asking for dignity for all. The word Dignity took on a new meaning. As I write this, I still am not sure what it means. Defined, it is the quality or state of being worthy of esteem or respect. Inherent nobility and worth: the dignity of honest labor. Poise and self-respect. And I ache for all those who share in the loss of dignity for a day’s work well done. Who have lost their self-respect because their homes have been taken away from them. There is no nobility when you are unable to care for your children. And how can we respect those who govern when they continue to lie to our faces and strip the fiber of this country? There are too many without the means to live decently, and too few who are indecent enough to eat the largest pieces of the pie.

I’ve asked myself for many years, in the face of extreme wealth, how much is enough? How many houses, cars, and lavish trips does one person really need? How many nannies, how many expensive shoes? Now, that question has shifted. How much is enough - to survive? When you are willing but unable to make ends meets, willing to work every day but finding nowhere to turn and see your standard of living slipping through your very fingers, unable to sustain and provide for yourself and your family, how much injustice can you possibly take before you’ve had enough? How much is enough?

A Platform From Which to Soar

2011-09-17T12:29:00.000-07:00

This feeling is like no other. It encompasses everything learned through experience, all the trust and hope and faith in one’s self and taking stock of your abilities with pride. Defying fear of loss, denying regret at every turn, fueling your present moment with a vision of tomorrow that is tailored by you as artist – in front of a gigantic canvas surrounded by fresh paint.

Many attend and try to describe the sensations that surround the event and the subsequent euphoria when one overcomes the challenges faced by just being there. No one talks about the minor setbacks and the long, hard hours, and the exhaustion that can take you out of your comfort zone, slapping you for being in any way spoiled from such creature comforts. It’s a personal battle that you wage in signing up. Given enough time to negotiate one’s limits, embracing your human element and honoring that inner voice that wants to protect you from feeling under the task at hand, only then can you see just how far you really can go and what you are truly capable of. The only thing that ever stands between you and what is already inside of you, waiting on you to recognize its been there all along, is you. Once determined, and the steps are taken, you find everything you need at your hands, and the thrust forward is remarkable! It’s as if there never was a time when you felt you couldn’t do, whatever that may be. You are capable of that which you can imagine!

Looking outward with that new found confidence that comes from within, trusting yourself to do right by you and others, it’s amazing to me how not alone we all really are. So many like minds with the goal of achieving their own personal brand of brilliance. I am encouraged by the choices belief brings, knowing when you focus on an outcome that gives back in such generous and supportive ways, what you get back is far greater than any expectation you can assign to an event. People do care. They want to soar, as you do. Reaching your capable hands forward, allow them to be clasped by those ready to lead you further along that path, or help guide those ready to learn how to grow. We are all in a unique position to do a great many things with the time we have left. All it takes is the giving of ourselves to ourselves the permission to fly.

“Come to the edge, he said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, he said. They came. He pushed them and they flew.” - Guillaume Apollinaire

Photo by: Pear Biter

Fourthcoming

2011-07-05T15:01:00.001-07:00

She came barreling down the path in a pink, ruffled dress, her legs barely keeping up with her whimsical drive. Such a tiny girl, her spirited dash infectious. I found her father with my pointed gaze. She couldn’t have been more than 3 years old and yet she left her papa in the dust.

“Wow, can she run!” I said to her dad as he struggled to catch up.

“She’s really excited” he smiled. And as he passed me, I wondered if my frown would burn on my face forever, the well of disappointment sinking deeper.

See, this was one of those days set aside to break up our oft-mundane existence, otherwise known as a holiday. And on this day, we celebrate our self-gratifying independence with noise and bright lights. We wait all year to do this in such a memorable display. And it’s fun for the whole family. At least, it’s supposed to be. I’ve always enjoyed this holiday because I’m surrounded by family and friends bbqing and celebrating. And honestly, fireworks turn me into a giddy 10 year old.

This year, no such joyful regression occurred. In fact, it was all I could do to hold myself together and not throw a child-like tantrum. I had no one to blame it on. The faceless internet gave a list of locations to view fireworks, the shows all starting at 9:00pm. Picking a park nearby, droves of people show up only to meander around aimlessly, questioning the validity of the ad. Children waited with their parents on blankets. Teens, doing their part to stay out of trouble, kept to themselves. Couples and families awaited the sky to be set ablaze. Yet, the fireworks never came.

“They had them here yesterday”, a kid told me, as he and his friends walked out as shadowy figures with their heads down. I could feel his disappointment in the dark. It was too late to drive to another location. We had missed the show.

I wanted to cry! How could I be robbed of this small pleasure? I wait all year for this day! Why did I pick the wrong venue? As I made my way back to my car, I was too upset to speak. Which was fine, because I didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news for all those still waiting for a light show that would never happen. And then I saw the little girl in the pink, ruffled dress. She had the determination of a marathon runner. And her father, gasping behind her, shattered my heart with his exasperated smile. In that moment, I pulled what little grace I remember possessing, and found my way out. Not just out of the park, but out of this depressed space. It’s okay to be disappointed, I told myself. An innocent mistake certainly doesn’t define you.

On the drive home, I opted for back roads. Something in my gut told me that because I was in no rush, I should take my time and work on shifting my mood. Suddenly, as I was making a left at a traffic light, and enormous “Boom!” went off directly above me. I looked up in time to see a spray of green lights about 40 feet above my head! Then, each green dot of light turned to white and the white light slowly fizzled down like snow across the dark night sky. I have never been this close to a firework this size. I laughed out loud and told my fast beating heart that I am very much alive and well. And that's indeed what matters.

Le Pew

2011-04-20T23:11:00.000-07:00

Holy shit.

While I was getting to it (and I will), the Fonz, who was resting by me out in the cabana, started barking and ran off – before I could stop him. Now, I already had words with him about the neighbor dog – an exhaustive topic of conversation – so, I was taken aback when he ran towards our back door. Barking ensued, and because he stayed so close (and not run up the back of the yard, as was his signature move) I realized something else was happening. I got up and drew back the curtains. The Fonz was confronting a skunk!!! Who had already sprayed him!!! And I can only wish that you had been here to see my reaction. I picked my dog up and started hollerin' HOLY HELL to the skunk. Like a real mad woman, or – rather – a mother, protecting her young. “GET OUT! NOW!!!” I SCREAMED, at the top of my lungs, at this furry rodent, his tail positioned-at-the-ready towards me. He wasn’t budging, and I wasn’t having it. Although the Fonz already REEKED, I wasn’t about to have another demonstration. I told the skunk where to go, and how high to jump getting there, my blood popping through the veins in my neck. I was literally daring him to make another motion towards the Fonz, and now me. My focus never left this skunk’s eye. He skuttered away.

Now, The Stinkiness prevailed. Allow me to interject. I have always loved the smell of skunks. Especially when they are hit, unseen, near the side of a deserted highway. When that glorious aroma wafts in through the cracks of my windows, I'm wide open to receive. Of course that sounds terrible, in lieu of prior tragedy. But as I get a sense of it’s intoxicating smell, I cannot roll both windows down fast enough, breathing in deeply. Call it taste. That smell has always appealed to me... However, the actual fight or flight scent is very different. Not unlike what gasoline would smell liked if it turned sour. And worse than that. It penetrates. Into everything.

Into the shower, I rush us, with the cans of tomato soup, juice & paste (surprisingly, there were many in my cupboard) scrubbing us both down, clothes, shoes, & towels - anything we might have touched. The Fonz shivers under such an unknown solvent. Still, after everything, there’s something in the house that lingers. I’m continually blasted with the smell. No amount of scrubbing floors and cloth will guide me to it’s source. If I am to believe that a single patch of hair carries THIS potency, well then, I have a new-found respect for that creature, the skunk. No wonder that poor cat in the cartoons was always trying to get away. I now understand it. After all these years, only now I get it.

Backagony

2011-02-19T02:12:00.000-08:00

..or My Newfound Respect for the Back.

This will, no doubt, point to the things we dare to take for granted. It will also help remind us to celebrate when things are going great! Why not?? The two are first cousins.

Apparently, back pain can be chronic. The thought is staggering, in itself. My newfound respect was acquired from my own set of Backagony. I sit, still coming to terms with it. I insist on getting to the bottom of it. How dare the spine be so sensitive as to blow it for the rest of us! I cannot let my daily drive and inspiration be fueled by the discomfort this kind of core invasion delivers. I’m past it now. Time to figure it out and move on.

So, I did. Through the stiffness, I battled a few resistances. But I made it through. Haven’t felt that incapacitated in a while, over a week and a half of battling – and by battling, I would reactivate the pain by washing the dishes. Not a cute look for an over achiever.

Putting it in my mind, what it felt like to move.. To be able to move my hips and dance.. Well, that brought me back to center. I started to shake my hips, and it seemed to move that lower back/hip pain further south. The best I’ve felt in days!

This may seem silly, but I’m going to hail the spine. For all it does, and the nerve endings under its command. I salute you.

Folly is a Girl I Know

2011-01-10T02:31:00.000-08:00

Folly is your own time well spent.

How wonderful to have time spent well, on you and those you care about. There is a divine freedom in that. “I choose to do this”.
So be it.

Folly is fearless. She can also be completely ridiculous! Sometimes mischievous. But always fun.

Don’t misunderstand – Folly knows Foolish. That’s clear. Because Folly likes the stage to be continued. There’s no need to end the evening so soon..

Folly will dare you. She’s wicked that way. But nothing she wouldn’t do herself. Because Folly is brave. And brave is so free.

Folly feels good.

Self-Worth

2010-12-26T19:50:00.000-08:00

I once believed there was someone for everyone. I thought love was a very real thing and could be found if you stayed the course and refused to give up. Keep your heart open, they told me, and love will find its way in.

The pain was unbearable. Love disappointed me too many times. As I tried to hold my head high, the tears poured out of my eyes. Just then Love smacked me across my proud face and she said “What's the big idea?” to which I replied, “I’m looking for love. The kind that's caring and supportive and inspiring.” And Love laughed at me, “You don’t get it. You’re all you’ve got. You are enough.”

I didn’t listen to her and followed my heart again. I knew this next one, if lost, was going to hurt most of all. This one was my first love. My high school sweetheart! We reunited after 15 some odd years. The way it felt in our moments of true passion.. Well, I thought I was set. I could not imagine life without him, ever. We had wasted too much precious time apart already. I was certain he would be my last.

Now, I stand before Love once more. She is compassionate this time. She tends to my wounds, wipes my tears, and speaks in soothing tones.. “It’s you, it’s always been you. Don’t you see?”

“See what?” I cry. “That I’m all alone again? That everywhere I look, there are couples cohabitating, getting married, having babies? That I’ve waited my entire life to love and be loved in return and it has never worked out for me? EVER???”

Love takes a deep breath, clears her throat, and says gently, “Your idea of what love is cannot be made real. You have too much to do in this life, and until you find that within yourself that needs no other, you will not be complete, you will not feel satisfaction. You need to be enough for yourself in order to find happiness”

“But I have done the work! I’ve spent years and years alone and enjoy the company I keep! I like who I am! But my relationships still continue to fail. What am I doing wrong?”

Love sighs, “My darling, if you were to never find this ‘other half’, if you were never to have the beautiful wedding you’ve always imagined, if your children were merely to pass as discarded eggs, would you still be the same you that you’ve always been?”

“What?” I cry. “No! Never!!”

Love is patient. She says softly, “Would you still strive to be a great woman warrior? Would you continue to write and sing and celebrate your life? Would you still dance with abandon and laugh loudly and throw your hands in the air, letting the wind remind your skin and hair that you’re still very much alive? Can you still count on yourself to defy pain others may try to inflict upon you? Will you remain true to the virtues that steer you close to grace?

"You, my darling girl, have a blessed life. And it’s all yours. To share, to smirk at the odds, to tackle the challenges head on with that broad smile of yours. You have always fought for your essence and have made some incredible friends who miss you when your focus gets diluted and an incredible family that hates to see your emotions get strained. Love is not about struggle. Love is enlightening and fun. It’s possibility and exploration and full of childlike surprise. It’s not damage and regret and sorrow. It’s not guilt ridden and it certainly doesn’t want to see you cry. It’s warm and it embraces promise with both arms. Not because it must do so, but because it wants to.”

* * *

When I look back on how things could have gone differently, how it feels to have lost the love of my life, my heart aches immeasurably. But I figure this: As much as it hurts to have failed, I know life has something in store for all of us. We just have to hang on when things seem most difficult. Sure, romantic love can be so fulfilling. But defining your self worth is more important than staying the course with someone who is depleting your life force. Remember to hold tight to what feels most right so that you may continue to enjoy the moments of your life. Expand your capacity for wonder. Stand up and defend your dreams. No one can take you away from yourself, unless you let them. Don’t let them.

The Complaint Department is Closed

2010-11-28T09:13:00.000-08:00

Several years ago, I made a New Year’s resolution to stop complaining. In all the years I bothered to come up with one (it always seems so important to make one, so some years I simply refused the added stress of finding a good one) that year I had nailed it. I was tired of hearing my own voice bitch about things I couldn’t control, and fed up with the excuses for the things I could do but weren’t doing. And really, folks, who likes a complainer?

After an exceedingly difficult year, I’d like to revisit this resolution of years past, and look hard at what complaining really means. Sure, a general unhappiness with the way things turn out tend to manifest into malaise. Despair can make the smallest disappointment turn into a huge ordeal. But what we choose to do with ourselves daily is our responsibility, so really we have ourselves to blame. To complain in front of others gives our bad or misguided choices the unfortunate opportunity to negatively effect those around us.

I can think of no occasion where complaining to others is ever truly effective. Communicating an idea of what you would like to see happen in your environment is not complaining (if you have roommates, letting them know to clean up after themselves in a constructive way, for example). But laundry listing the things that continue to ail you, whether it’s work or health related, tends to become a real burden on others. I myself am guilty of this in spades, especially this past year. I have to shut my mouth sometimes just so I won’t say something unnecessary or unhelpful.

It’s not clear when I lost sight of my goals and how to achieve them. All I do know is, they are inside me still, and beg to be given the chance to flourish if I would just stop scaring them off by pushing them further down with all the white noise. If something needs to be changed, change it. If there’s something in your day to day that isn’t working for you, take the steps to fix it. No one is in charge of the adult you, ever. There’s real freedom found in organization and follow through. Give yourself another chance.

Enough Rough Stuff

2010-09-30T00:45:00.000-07:00

I remember a time

when I wasn't so blind.

Where fear had no space in the house that is mine.

It wasn't just me that was thriving, we were all diving.

With the means to make it all ours without hurry or worry.

We could think and we could do and we did.

Then some large hammer came down

and knocked us around.

I'm still reeling from the beating

to our collective feeding

of our needing to reach goals of

American Dreaming.

I want to see us rise

above this unsupervised demise

To get back to that state

of simple debate

As to what color bed spread

would go best with the head

of hair of a new love affair

blooming with ideas for more.

It's been too long since many have felt free

of financial debris.

We must remember who are

So we can keep reaching far.

Grab hold of what's dear

and steer ourselves clear.

Make way for the purples and pinks of the day.

It's the doubt that this brought

that subsequently taught we should accept

the worst as our new turf.

Enough of this piss.

We're better than this.

Bring forward the life that we ordered.

Attitude Adjustment

2010-09-26T02:52:00.000-07:00

As hard as we think our lives are, there is always someone who has it harder. We know this. But every once in a while, we are handed that glorious reminder. And it’s not easy to face someone else's hardship. Perspective is a bitch. If we have a conscience, if we have a beating heart, we can’t help but put ourselves in their position. Imagine what it would be like to be them. One thing I have learned over the years, we’ve heard it said time and again, is that it’s all about attitude. Well, I got a dose of that tonight. And it was a gorgeous dose.

My friends and I noticed her from a mile off. She radiated. Her shocking, short, blond hair and smile was reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe. Lovely to behold. She was witty and fearless. She approached us and was engaging in a delightful way.

A dancer at Jumbo’s Clown Room – the more interesting a place to see girls dance for dollars in LA because, as she put it, when someone from her past frowned upon her stripping, replied “You had better be talking about reupholstery, because you don’t know Jumbo’s”. That’s why we go there. You see, they don’t have to take it all off. The place draws girls with aspirations to be somebody, to pursue their acting/modeling/music careers without having to feel like they are compromising too much. These girls are gorgeous and they have style – some of them real bona fide dancers.

This one, a superstar, introduced herself as Millions. After further investigating, her real name came out. Malaika, pronounced Ma-like-a. We told her the nickname Millions should come after, a stage name worthy of Vegas. Me like a Millions? She cracked us up with her energy. A real doll of a woman with energy and spontaneity that rivaled anyone I have met in my years of big city living, both NYC and LA.

Her show was light, and fun. She was playful and sexy and very entertaining. But mostly it was her dynamic energy with the crowd. Every girl there performed in her shadow. Off stage, she was the kind of likable that her infectious smile granted: you just wanted more of her. You saw that beautiful, kind face giving itself to children, teaching them the ways of the word with a real inner beauty and confidence. She invited us to a party she’s throwing in the near future – the image on the flyer a bit she did as a performance artist that involved a life-size image of her in a long red dress, leg’s splayed. Participants were invited to poke their head thru a hole cut out between her legs for a photo op of Malaika Millions giving birth to you. Hilarious.

I stepped outside with her, upon her request, away from the noise and crowd. She guided me towards a stunning motorcycle – hers. Magenta body, chrome fixtures, light blue/green suede seat. I have never seen such a cute, sexy bike before. Perfect for this one-of-a-kind. She smoked a long, brown cigarette and told me of her struggle to afford the necessary parts to stop it from leaking. Then said she’s had some surprise health issues and times were very challenging for her. What health issues? I asked, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I said. She mentioned a disease that I can’t spell. The fluid that is released into your uterus that holds the baby in place was apparently leaking into her body, scarring neighboring organs and causing all kinds of problems with her immune system. They had to take out her uterus and cervix. It did not fix the problem, her health challenged.

She told me of a party she threw after they performed her hysterectomy. She had a piñata made in the shape of a uterus and filled it with all kinds of fun things, she said. Condoms and lube and farm animals. I chuckled, in spite of what she was telling me. Celebrating her incredible ability to turn something tragic into something remarkable. She handed out hockey sticks to her friends and encouraged them to “Kill it!” It was her “Happy Birthday to Uterus” party. I could not hide my admiration of such bravery. I hadn’t imagined it possible, as a woman who wants children with all her might. And here it was, from the source. She was and is a true beauty. There was no pity. There was no remorse. Only a desire to live and be in her moment of truth, shining so brightly. This beautiful woman wants to live. And not be sick and suffering.

There is so much of my life at present that I would change on a dime if I had the chance. My current career and financial woes, shared by so many, cause undue stress constantly. The uncertainty is so tough, for all of us. But if we could muster one ounce of this angel’s attitude about what life has in store for us, if we could regain and retain that kind of refreshing perspective on what’s really important in life – our very character – we would all be a lot less afraid. And a lot more willing to share our health. What I mean to say is – she did not seem unhealthy to me. Not for one moment. She was the light and I was the moth tonight. I simply adored her. Because to me, she was worth my time. She taught that valuable lesson. That the human spirit cannot be broken. It can stay on top of real grief and flourish. It can offer delight and whimsy and promise for more of what is good and right with the world. That’s what she offered me tonight. And for that, I am grateful. We need to all be more grateful for what we have, because we have a lot. And we always need reminding. Thank you, Malaika. Wow.

A Sign of the Times

2010-08-11T08:14:00.000-07:00

I am extremely grateful to all of you who reached out and wished me a personalized message on facebook this year, and the few who called. Thank you for taking the time out to touch me ever so slightly in such a kind manner, especially on a day like one’s birthday. Reading messages next to a collection of thumbnail pictures of the amazing people in my life, however, caused a mixed reaction. One of nostalgia and deep missing. Because there was no party. There was no celebration. No whooping it up and “letting it roar.” My big day was quiet and private, spent with my boyfriend who did his best to care for his Leo Warrior.

As I walked down the street, arm in arm with him, I reflected on this newfound maturity. In years past, I would have been throwing my fists to the air and crying at the injustice. It’s my birthday! Why aren’t I having more fun? Where’s the party, the presents, WHERE’S THE LOVE? I sigh as I write these words, because I feel the adult in me settle in. It will never be as you’d like. People will surprise you as well as disappoint you and to find a healthy balance takes real pressure off of the moment. Let things unfold - a tough lesson for me, who tried to force outcomes constantly, calling it “manifestation”. This year showed me I am not always in charge, so leave it alone. Pick your battles and be at peace with those you have no control over.

If I could paint the picture of my birthday differently, I would have still spent the lovely day with my man. But instead of going to bed at 9:30 (what?) it would have ended with every last one of you in a big room laughing and dancing our butts off!

With Love.

Sucking Lemons

2010-08-01T13:36:00.000-07:00

I had a shit day to begin with, filled with indecision and so much uncertainty. How much can a body take? When the answers don't present themselves, and you try to force the outcome (!), waiting for any result can be painful. And the stress? I don’t know a single person who is not stressed right now...

So... My day was sucking lemons.. Could not configure a way out. Showed up at a children's theatre event to photograph my friend's children, only to walk aimlessly looking for something I couldn't find, under the brutal sun carrying a costume and camera... I was hot and frustrated. My real life wasn't presenting any softer landing pad to questions that had no answers. We operate in the now and need things answered immediately so we can act accordingly and appropriately. When you don’t have direction, it’s like being put on hold. I needed to take my finger of the pause button and I couldn't find the remote.

So, I decided to take the old adage by the balls. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I have a lemon tree at the foot of my property. For nearly 6 years, I have not visited that tree, to appreciate it’s offerings, because of where it’s positioned. It's in a precarious spot and extremely difficult to get to. The slope leading down to it would surely make one lose their footing. It’s simply too steep.

But then I got the idea to approach it from the other side, requiring me to scale the wall. I carried a ladder from the house and made my way through rain forest sized Birds of Paradise, used a street sign to pull my body up this wall... only to face an enormous Agave plant.

If you were to impale yourself on one of it’s leaves, you would surely do some damage to a vital organ. I moved slowly and deliberately through the spiked leaves, only to find myself in a swarm of bees! I was frozen, straddling this enormous branch covered in sharp, pointy needles, and my bare legs were surrounded by bees in every direction. And I was still too far to reach the lemons! I waited patiently for a bee to move so I could occupy his space without stepping on him, and pushed forward until finally, I was standing in front of this pretty little lemon tree. I greeted it politely and began filling my bag. The smile on my face resembled a kid on Christmas morning. The tree and the bees both seemed to vibrate around me, creating this pleasant hum. I felt safe and cared for.

Returning to kitchen, I juiced those babies and poured myself a tall glass of lemonade. And then, I proceeded to go out into the world and get a job. A good job, working with cool people. My day turned around just like that. Because I did something different.

Maintaining Essence

2010-07-12T12:16:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what true love means, but I believe in truly loving someone. Without remorse or obligation. Or pain or regret. A future that's filled with promise and hope. Not unnecessary suffering or guilt. Where two people respect each other and grow together. And challenge the other to excel in what they love most. To encourage each other to be their ideal self. To try new things and be a part of the human condition, not separate from it. To give back more than what we have been given. Embracing difficulty with a cool attitude and a steady gaze. Rid yourself of things in your life that don’t serve your well being and happiness.

There is so much ahead. I've learned to maintain my essence through so much hardship. I wear my battle scars with honor. Those near impossible circumstances have not taken an ounce of my core, but have allowed me to find new ways to strengthen it. I stand with gratitude and real pride. I am a woman warrior who has learned if we don’t overcome our conflicts, and free ourselves from the boundaries these conflicts create, we are merely repeating the struggle.

Your environment should be fueled by high expectation of self coupled with hard work and responsibility for your own actions and for your feelings. When we cultivate a higher sense of self worth, based on the standards we set for ourselves, there’s a greater sense of being part of humanity that inspires one to give back on a larger scale. The old adage goes something like – it’s not how long we are here but what we did while we were here that matters. A warrior’s duty is to guard passions and desires, that they may find a way to be channeled creatively towards a higher purpose. I strive for grace and selflessness every day. And the courage to defend my right to seek truth in everything.

Steel Your Spine

2010-07-10T07:46:00.000-07:00

I had the extreme good fortune of hearing our vice president Joe Biden speak last night at a gathering for Senator Barbara Boxer. While describing the Senator’s character to us, he reminded me of what I’ve known for a long time. In times of real struggle and turmoil, only then can great change occur. Change cannot happen if you sit stagnant. What he admires most about her, he said, is her gut. Gut guides the heart. Together they work with the mind to make intelligent decisions. I realized then how complicated I had let my life become. I stood there, wiping the tears from eyes. Steel your spine, he said. We can get through this. And I know he’s right.

He told us when he was a young boy, his father had to make that difficult climb up the stairs to inform Joe that he had lost his job. And that Joe would have to live with his grandmother while his father found work in the neighboring town. He relayed the difficulty his father faced in having to ask such a favor of his own mother. There are so many who have sacrificed so much. Those fighting and dying in a current war, those who have lost their homes, others struggling for their right to legally call themselves Americans. The perspective is always sobering.

I wiped another tear from my eye and that’s when I heard it - the call of a female hawk. She came out of nowhere and flew above our heads. Her white and black patterned chest stood out against the clear, blue sky. A second later, the red- tailed male soared after her. His wings were broad, eyes piercing into mine as I stared, stunned. To have not one, but two hawks fly so close to you.. and chase each other playfully! In that magical moment, I missed my beautiful man. And the life we are to have together if we keep focused on what’s important. We both have lived full lives already. Soon, it would be time to build a family of our own. I raised my head and felt capable of taking better care.

Overcome

2010-07-09T10:25:00.000-07:00

Recently, I spent time in New York for an important national holiday. I found myself enveloped in the good company of old friends who understand what the time and distant apart means to each and every one of us. The volume in the room gave it away. We were happy to be together and grateful for the freedom we all felt. There was so much delicious food and wine. One girl even made a fresh wild berry pie that had to be the best I’d ever had in my life. There was so much sharing and laughter, I was reminded how much I truly enjoy the adventure my life is.

There’s been so much to overcome this year. It’s difficult to stay positive all the time. Each of us, as individuals, must figure out our own paths. But we must also recognize that there are others right beside us on the same journey. With enough trust, those nearest and dearest to us can show us how to make it work! I’ve resisted being told what to do my entire life. When I have reached out to others, I have allowed myself to absorb their good intentions and receive their smart advice. We are here to share with one another more than anything else. We don’t have to live alone. Because the only thing that matters is how we connect with each other. It’s vital to our happiness, our health, and the survival of the human race on this planet.

I never used to think life was all that hard, until it neared impossible. I was always able to see beyond the pain of regret and loss, and feel strength in the knowing that I can overcome anything. I thought that’s why I’m special. But that’s what makes all of us special. So today, and each day, I will start to make more of a concerted effort with those around me. To be kind. To listen. And to give back whenever there is something to give. I want to take part in the shift that must occur for us all to get back to a place of love and resourcefulness. It feels better than anything else I can think of.

RIDE FREE

2010-06-19T03:15:00.000-07:00

I don’t lie. I don’t steal. I’m not a cheat, I wasn’t raised that way. I like to play tough, but really I'm sensitive and vulnerable.. and I'm tired of suffering FOOLS.

In fact, I was raised to give it like you get it. And I got it GOOD. I spent years being generous because I was blessed with a smart brain (and I protected it) that configured a very clever way of making money. That money was hard to get, but well earned. And because it was honest money, and I was making a lot of it, I gave. Loaned money to many – never under the guise that it was free - always with the understanding it would be paid back when times turned around for my trusted friends.

Times turned. The money hasn’t been paid back. I struggle. It's hard. But one thing I do know - taking a different road home sheds new light on things. Driving with abandon down strange streets, accelerating into the unknown, makes me feel free again. Roads appear you never knew existed. The path home, once so familiar, has a street named Irolo.

People will let you down. But keeping an open outlook feels better than harboring resentment. Better to ride free...

Gifts we give ourselves

2010-06-05T01:43:00.001-07:00

This was one of those weeks. Life altering, big changes.

As I waited for my friends to arrive at said destination, in lieu of all the hardships I’ve faced this year, I reminded myself of what I have most.. in spades. Character. I asked myself, What is real character? Character, to me, is facing the odds with integrity. It’s getting the job done with an unrelenting passion and an unwavering positive outlook. I’m not talking about Prozac Nation phoniness. But insurmountable odds met with manifesting capacity for greatness. I paced the streets, in thought. I was happy for the moment to myself, to take stock in what I mean to ME. I have chosen a path that refuses compromise to my integrity.

Let me explain. For many years, I foraged my way through the streets of NYC. I was very young, had no real idea of who I was, what I could become. But one thing I knew for sure – I wanted to be the best version of myself. And I became an articulate, well-rounded individual with real edge. I was being exposed to every day situations that demanded moment’s notice action. I learned, through practice, to trust my instinct. It’s the greatest tool we have, underrated by miles. And something that - once cultivated- will never let you down. Not ever. After all – it’s coming from deep inside of you. It’s there to protect YOU.

After years of practice, I branched out to others, a natural recourse. If you aren’t sharing, what exactly are you doing? Friends and family came to depend on me. When I said I’d be somewhere, I’d be there. A situation arose that needed problem solving, I was there, front and center. To listen. Divide and conquer. Or step back and reevaluate together. Always a higher path for each and every one of us. We shouldn't ever live in conflict or misery. Hurting is horrible.. It was my honor to give back. I felt within my core, I had learned.

Now, the body is composed of many things, the heart being the trickiest of them all. Within this last year, I followed that muscle because of the years I spent without romantic love. I went backwards to a past love. In my mind it was a sure thing. We both loved each other deeply already. This would be easy.

It wasn’t. And it had to end. For the sake of both parties involved. Losing that sure thing was a blow to the head with a brick, but essential to my growth. We were both losing. To know when to cut your losses is as important as sensing a good thing and diving. Our lives - lived fully - must have both! In the end, knowing the difference is the battle. Which one you wage is up to you.

Tonight, I found myself in the presence of great minds. Not bogged down by so much grief and angst. No jealousy for my successful week rained on my parade. I was open and alive and for the first time in a long while – myself. The ‘me’ that has traversed many roads, found the right me. We talked of life. And art. And family. The participants sharing honest and brilliant insights, adding to the conversation. I felt as if I was among kindred spirits. The food was AMAZING. Home cooked by a chef, adoring wife, another loving couple, I was the proud fifth wheel. There was no unnecessary drama. Not one individual drew attention to themselves. All shared equal footing, a stage shared by all. We were there to teach each one another how to be, at our finest. Right where I belong, where I deserve to be. No pity party for me.

If we cannot get out of our own way, we are lost. Once we recognize our real strengths, and can contribute to our community of kinders, only then can we find home. Home is a good place to be. It’s only up from here for me.

With much gratitude.

The Ease

2010-02-15T20:52:00.000-08:00

This is a dream I had the other night that I am working into a short film script. It is a work of fiction. Names have been changed to protect innocence.
It is the near future and The US is still in a Depression, only now it’s far worse than anyone had ever imagined. The banks have foreclosed on 80% of private residences, leaving the majority of suburbia looking like ghost towns and cities are filling with roach motels. People are living on top of each other, sometimes six to room. No longer can anyone afford privacy. Personal space is a thing of the past.

I had a corner to call my own in a loft apartment of an industrial warehouse with a bunch of young people. It was like a refugee camp, bodies of people camping on their section of the floor. There was little water to go around because the price of water had skyrocketed. Everyone slept in his or her own filth.

A bald, rabid, tattooed guy was being very mean to me, making fun of me. He yelled, pointing his finger in my face, going on about how I never married because I always pick the wrong guy. Perhaps he was flirting with me, but he did so in such a cruel and aggressive manner, upsetting me so much I had to get out of there. I began filling my backpack with what little I had left. It was important to travel lightly. One could never be sure when it was time to relocate. My friend Maggie came out of one of the bedrooms and offered me a cookie to stay. It was her place, paid for years ago in full by her rich father. Food was scarce, and sweets were very hard to come by. I said no, and as I was leaving, Edgar – my former boyfriend – walked thru the front door of the loft space. Maggie liked being surrounded by men. It made her feel safe. Not knowing our past and liking the looks of him, immediately offered him lodging, promising him my corner spot on the floor in exchange for providing her with cigarettes. We did not even acknowledge each other as I brushed past him in disgust.

The clouds in the sky were very dark, giving the air an ominous feel. As I wandered through the streets looking for somewhere to sleep for the night, I heard music coming from a church that had been converted into a nightclub. The dark clouds made it feel like night, even though it was mid afternoon. The club was in full effect, drawing people who needed to seek solace from the dire conditions.

A “new and improved” drug was introduced to the public, almost overnight, that relieved people of their depression instantly. It gave you a euphoric sensation like ecstasy, but without losing your faculties. In fact, it sharpened and heightened your senses. It made you feel uplifted and focused, like you could conquer anything. Of course, people everywhere had been depressed for too long, and the drug was being abused socially. People were grinding it up into a light blue powder and snorting it around the clock.

Unfortunately, the government was none too happy about the ease with which people could get their hands on it. It was released “by the people for the people” by a brilliant billionaire for no cost. It was everywhere.

As I approached the steps of the converted church, I saw a crowd of people surrounding the actor Bill Nighy, who was wearing an American Indian chief headdress and being interviewed for a live news broadcast on the sidewalk in front of the church steps. He was the inventor of this new drug and the white, red, and light blue feathers that framed his face and trailed to the ground bounced as he described the properties of it and the chemical breakdown. He explained how it differs from any other drug from the past because there were no negative side effects to the body whatsoever. He came across as a modern day Timothy Leary/Dirty Harry. Then, in the middle of the interview, he leaned over a metal divider and spit onto the road.

I climbed the steps towards the grand entrance of the club and saw several vaguely familiar faces who offered me a place to stay and some of this new drug. I didn’t want to take it, nor did I want to go inside this club. I sat down on the steps and watched people go in and out of the entrance, constantly putting the backs of their hands up to their noses to sniff the little blue powder they had poured there. Someone put some in front of my face and before I knew what was happening, my face grew numb. Just as I lit a cigarette, my Dad walked up, wearing a tee shirt and cut off shorts and no shoes. I threw the cigarette down before he could see me. He was in good spirits (most likely from the drug because it seemed as if everyone was on it!) and when he saw me, his face beamed as told me someone had stolen his tent. He had found a nice spot near my friend Dominic Chianese from NY, but when he went back there later in the day, Dominic was passed out and someone had taken all of his gear. He smiled as he retold the story.

I felt such sadness for my Dad. I couldn’t even help myself, so what could I do for him? My dad was homeless! But he seemed fine with it, not a care in the world. He continued on down the street in his bare feet. It broke my heart.

Everyone seemed alert and aware that something big was about to happen. It was only a matter of time until the people revolted, because the government had all our money and had turned the United States into a third world country. Unemployment was at almost 100% because there was no money to pay anyone to do anything. The dollar had ceased to have any value whatsoever.

Somewhere within earshot, the news was being broadcast through huge speakers. It blended in with the music coming from the club behind me. The top story was the government’s concern for the impending revolution. They were uncertain as to how far people would go while taking this new drug that seemed to render people uninhibited but ready for action. The problem the government faced was that the drug was released before they could place any kind of restriction on it and they were afraid of ‘rogues’. As I stood there listening to this news broadcast, the sky opened up and it began to pour rain. Everyone ran inside the club. I stood on the steps, getting drenched in rain. The streets were empty. Then, I heard a rumbling. Out of nowhere, Edgar appeared. He was driving a black 1971 mustang fastback, wearing a black shirt and a black hat. I stood there on the steps of the church, watching him slowly pass. I watched as he turned the corner. And then, he vanished.

Global Citizen Embassador

2009-10-10T02:26:00.000-07:00

The other day, I received a link from a girl I know. Sanny’s a real dare devil type. I was first introduced to her years ago thru a mutual friend, a successful producer with a three-story house in the hills. She jumped off the second story balcony into the pool below. What nerve. I became an instant fan of hers.

Upon opening the link, I came to understand it’s a kind of contest. Top 5 most compelling videos go before the United Nations. A chance to speak to the world leaders. I watched her video and gave her my notes and moved on. She dared me to submit. How could I say no? Would you say no to a dare? I wouldn't.

I write something, then film it. I stray from Sanny’s strict, in your face these-are-the-facts, ma’am, delivery and go for something warmer. I talk about my Mother. And the values she imparted to us as children. I’m proud of what I came up with, and my mother is tickled upon viewing it. But she has some notes. And then..

And then.. her brother signs onto Instant Messaging at the same time she’s giving me her notes. My uncle, the retired command sargent major, who spent considerable time in Afghanistan. She suggests he might have a thing or two to say to the UN that he, for obvious reasons, cannot say himself. I recruit my mother to suggest it to him. She responds, “Check your email in the morning”.

My early morning took a turn. A water main broke in the restaurant that was to host a Women In Film event. Instead, I detour to my dear friends, Rebecca and Eric Liebman. Inside a scrumptious visit with their 2 year old twins over cream cheesy bagels, I share with Rebecca the aforementioned dare, along with said contributions from my mother and my James Bond uncle. Rebecca feels it lacks the personal touch I would bring (not having read my original speech). Her husband is a director, writer who will film it for me proper. I race home from the west side, to rewrite it.

What came of our efforts this evening remains to be seen, by you. I hope you like it (I hope I like it! Eric is on his way home now to edit out the dog barking uncontrollably during my best take of the day! Yay, Eric!) Below is a copy of the speak. No matter what happens with it, I want to thank Sanny for her daring. Eric for his skills and expertise. My mother, my uncle, and Rebecca for their guidance. And Joseph, for his patience. Always.

If I do get selected? We’re ALL having a pow wow. Because I'm going to be taking your notes with me. And THAT speech live? It will POP! Believe it!!

We all experience a time when our developing minds absorb what the adults around us are saying. Their words impact us heavily by shaping the ideals that we eventually value. Even more so, actions and the way we live our own lives help to set the standard for the impressionable to emulate.

My Mother’s voice is the voice I listened to all of my life for guidance and wisdom. Her voice was always a kind and thoughtful voice. She was and is a hippie from the 60’s and as a young woman read a book called “Silent Spring” by Rachel Carson. It changed her whole life. At an early age, she painted a picture for us children of a world that doesn’t litter. A world that doesn’t fight any more. Because we finally grew to understand that there are more important things to do with our brilliant minds than waste them on conflict, greed and war mongering.

She taught her children the importance of protecting our planet and its limited resources by both words and deeds. Don’t waste, don’t pollute and always recycle. This was not limited to material things but included our minds and work ethic as well. Maintain self-respect. Always be truthful. Never compromise your integrity. Be polite. Love others despite disagreeing with them.

We live in a world where we are totally codependent on each other. What happens in one country could lead to the demise of all countries and the world as we know it. The decisions made in one country must consider their impact on all countries. We can no long allow isolationism and ignorance to exist that places our world at risk. Aggression and wars must be replaced by diplomacy and a universal united front. Arrogant and ruthless leaders that jeopardize world peace must be constrained by the unity of all other countries. All countries that show compassion and good will toward their own people and towards other countries should be recognized and encouraged.

Helen Keller said: As selfishness and complaint pervert the mind, so love with its joy clears and sharpens the vision. Helen Keller overcame her own personal obstacles, born blind and deaf, to set a selfless example for all of us to follow. That it is never too late to open our eyes and open our hearts, to set new standards for generations to come. Countries that have fallen into poverty and backwardness must be helped to regain prosperity. In our complex world, countries will have differences and we must agree to be able to disagree. Our leaders should be encouraged to show compassion and to compromise responsibly, with the greatest good for all being the deciding factor. Only then can we feel confident we have leaders who can govern with sovereignty, compassion, dignity, and love.

Lead by example.

First/Last Day

2009-09-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

My head is still spinning from the experience. Witnessing a company’s fractured infrastructure so blatantly, and on your very first day, can be jarring. I hadn’t prepared myself for this grotesque display of lack of professionalism and the aftermath that followed. Instead of finding the humor somewhere in there, I just feel sad. There’s nothing funny about failure.

The day started with a meeting. Letisha, a very round, black woman and I were walked into the owner’s office. He proceeded to tell us that this job would be year round, and that included Super Bowl Sunday and Christmas. The service they provide is 24 hours, so the shifts would run late night and the morning shift began at 6:00am. I saw my freedom flash before my very eyes. But I pressed on.

Initially, we were being shown the ropes by a young, well-dressed, black woman. Her nerves were frazzled and she admitted to us that she had taught herself most of what she knew about the job. Her training skills were poor, leaving both Letisha and I very confused. But we stayed with it.

From what I was able to gather, the company acts as a liaison between the airlines and the unfortunate people who lose their bags. And as I came to find out, this company makes lots of mistakes. In the short time I was in the office, it was revealed they had lost several pieces already. Once the company’s drivers pick up the luggage, it became the dispatcher’s responsibility to get it to its destination. They have to set the routes, instruct the drivers, deal with hysterical passengers. Apparently, the onus of achieving a system of steady delivery of people’s personal belongings lost by an airline landed square on the shoulders of the dispatcher. The stress that this young woman was experiencing was very apparent. She did not stop moving. She juggled 10 different things at once. For 12 straight hours. All for 9 bucks an hour. I was flabbergasted.

The woman who worked the second shift came in. The others had been talking about her all day. She was a force in this place. Powerful. Take charge. Black. I came to realize I was the only white person all day. This made it difficult on me because no one would look me in the eyes. This new woman was confrontational. She was enormous. Her first question was, what sign are you? I smiled and said, I'm the only sign there is. It's my signature Leo answer to this question. She said, you must be a Gemini. I reacted, Oh no, honey. Gemini’s are impossible to deal with. Turns out, she’s a Gemini. She said, "You don't want to see my other half". Trained in the military. Had her stint as a cop. She reminded me of a friend of mine. I liked her immediately.

She started off strong, with a this-job-is-a-breeze attitude. She told us to forget everything the prior girl has taught us. That she had been there for years and could show us how it’s done. Just then, the boss called. And she asked everyone in the room – a tech guy, his friend, Letisha & I, and two others who, as it turned out, were visiting friends of the Gemini – to leave. She had to speak with him in private. The owner was having an issue with people taking advantage of the time clock. The boss had set up a new device that fingerprints the employees, to stop people from cheating him. And she was not having any part of it.

We cleared the room. Thru a window in the back we could see that the conversation was not going well. She made some very large gestures with her hands and she appeared to be shouting. And then, she was gone. Got in her car and left. For good. Just like that, she quit.

Shuffling our feet inside, no one was really sure what to do. She didn't even say good-bye to her friends, who stood there sheepishly. The manager had left with the owner and that left just the tech guy, who shared with us that the owner is nearly bankrupt. And instead of offering his more valued employees more money, he’s hiring more people, so he doesn’t overwork his existing staff. In turn, he was frustrating those who had been there a while and were expecting a raise in conjunction with the workload they were being given every day. This is a high stress job. To pull your hair out for someone else’s company and then be responsible for every fuck up, all for $50 a shift? I had already sensed the quiet animosity in the place. If you let someone mistreat you and continue to let them mistreat you, chances are good you will grow to resent them. And then one day, blow up in front of a room full of people. I can’t remember the last time I felt that uncomfortable.

Dispatch This

2009-09-25T20:12:00.000-07:00

There aren’t too many people I know who are particularly thrilled to drive to the airport. I’m not referring to the excitement one experiences when picking somebody up, someone you love who’s been out of town for an extended period of time and you’ve just been missing heck out of them. I refer to the drive itself. It entails freeway driving and no matter what time you make that trip in Los Angeles, there is always, always traffic. LAX is the International Airport of a very big city, after all, so there’s no wonder there. What is difficult for me to believe is that I convinced myself that taking a job located in close proximity to the airport is any kind of a good idea at all. Especially for $9 an hour. But only because after several dozen resumes out, they were the first to call.

Curiosity got me out of the house. For some reason, when I read “Dispatch”, I thought I’d be fielding 911 calls and helping to save the day. Exciting stuff. Someone’s getting car jacked. There’s been a stabbing, blood everywhere. People in shock can talk all crazy. Good adrenaline junkie material. But the location of my interview gave way to a whole different animal. I would be the voice you hear when calling for your cab. Good grief. How many times had I utilized this service, to take me to that same airport, to fly me clear across the globe of my own volition because another continent was calling me. How I had fallen so far from my dream tree is beyond me.

Too be fair, the recession has hit nearly everyone hard in the guts. And as we continue to gather the wind that was knocked out of the collective us, we must do what’s necessary as individuals to make our ends meet in these difficult times. Rest assured, my priorities are intact. A shitty temp job is no bread line with hungry kids in tow.

The pretty, young manager was very nice and I liked her immediately. A real go-getter. As I sat there staring out the window, half listening to the fascinating details of my responsibilities as a potential future dispatch, out of nowhere flew an enormous plane directly overhead! Because we were so close to the airport, the plane was as low as it could be in the sky without shaving the roof off the place.

After I picked up my jaw from off the floor, I gave my full attention to the Hispanic maiden. All of a sudden, and for whatever reason, I wanted this job. If I can’t afford to take a trip (me - who loves to travel more than anybody) then I can damn well take part in making the experience more enjoyable for others along their journey. It takes so little to be kind and helpful. It’s arrogance that takes real energy.

Strange Little Roark

2009-09-24T22:34:00.000-07:00

It’s odd, I can’t very easily recommend the book that hosts my all time favorite character in all of literature because it would be like me asking someone to cross the desert on a three legged camel with a canteen half-filled. Today’s society is consumed with technopportunity, with a myriad of ways to distract the once upon a time avid reader. The Fountainhead is a long and arduous task and I just don’t feel comfortable ranting about how great it is because I feel like I’m bragging that I was able to drag my eyes thru with the whole damn thing and you weren’t so look at how much more I am than you. In fact, please allow me to spare you that full time job and instead share with you the unflappable hero of the book, Howard Roark. I’ll even talk about him like he’s a friend of mine, not some grandiose figure finely propped up on a pedestal by the author and subsequent followers. Roark is too cool for that.

In a world full of people pleasers, Roark sets the bar as high as that proverbial bar will go. Because he himself is enough. A bonafide creator who refuses to take shit from anyone. He embodies self-respect and integrity like no other because he never gives anyone that power over him, no matter how much they criticize his creations and attempt to ostracize him. He won't betray those things that are most important to him. He never compromises his own vision and in turn, never violates his integrity. As a young girl, I came to understand thru Roark’s example that integrity is or isn’t. You have it, or you don’t. Those who follow their own passion and talents with real focus and fervor understand that this need not take away from anyone, but succeed in creating something purely their own.

I used to hang out with Jude Law before he hit it big and got swallowed by the system. He was doing a Broadway show at the time, and after one of his performances we met up with friends and went out for drinks. I was my normal, boisterous self, speaking my mind loud and clear for everyone within a four block radius to hear. He put his arm around me as we walked thru Soho and he said, “You know what I like best about you? You’re uninfluentiable”. Was that even a word? I asked him what the hell he meant by that. He said that I would never do anything I didn’t want to do, no matter how much people tried to persuade me. I remember thinking of Roark in that moment, and I gave Jude a grin.