Me. In 2010. Really?

Jun 27 2010

Hold, Please.

So I did it. 5 days ago they hacked into my hand. Put in my first IV. Doped me up. Gave me 60 Vicodin and sent me on my way. I would like to tell you more about the pain, the recovery, the meds, the nausea but typing with one hand is hard and working out is impossible. So the 30 day challenge has been put on hiatus for a few weeks. Ugh. Till soon. 

Jun 22 2010

Hand in Hand.

In twelve hours I will be in the middle of my first ever surgery. It will be on my left hand. And though a thousand people have called to placate me, I am scared. I had the honor of being in a beauitful loving relationship with a great man for many years and today I miss him.

If I sneezed, we went hand in hand to the doctors. He always sat in the room with me while the doctor spoke. And I did the same for him. I know that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but we both liked doing it for each other. We are both the opposite of a hypochondriac. We hate having to go to get anything checked out so it was nice to know when we were forced to that someone held our hand the entire time and never thought we were being a baby. Even when we were.

It is ironic that this is the first time it is serious. The first time I will have a body part numbed. A bone graft. A pin put in place. And I will walk through the hospital doors alone, undergo the surgery alone and walk out alone. I almost had to beg for a ride and the person offered to pay for a taxi before calling me back tonight to agree to actually drive me.

I am happy and content with my single life. But today made me realize that there are certain gifts that come with having a partner in your life that understands your fears and insecurities and doesn’t judge you for them. In fact they take them in their stride and protect you from yourself. 

Going through this process alone does not make me realize that “wow what a strong woman i am facing this fear by myself” but rather “wow i miss having someone around that gets me.” The irony does not escape my that the hand that was once held in his while doctors spoke to me is now being operated on.

This time, no one will be there to hold it.

Perhaps that was the lesson. It is time to stop being content with my love life and open up. This experience is teaching me that. Lets hope this first surgery is my last alone.

Jun 21 2010

I’m Baaaack.

Well, well, well.  My thirty day challenge to go to the gym everyday and eat healthy and write in this online journal was just that. Thirty days. Which sucks. I miss my healthy lifestyle and daily venting.

So to trick myself, I have issued myself another thirty day challenge. Write here everyday and go to the bar method which apparently is BRUTAL.

What I have learned about myself it that I am great with routine as long as there is a light at the end of the tunnel. So the secret is not to do a thirty day challenge and hope that it becomes a lifestyle but rather have a year with twelve thirty day challenges! Far easier to understand the problem and work with it than to try and rebuild my entire way of living.

So in 48 hours I will start Bar Method. Yes ladies and Gentleman, I am happy to be back.

And PS I may have found a normal boy who lives in Los Angeles. But I have A LOT of issues surrounding the situation. Will discuss tomorrow.

Jun 08 2010

Eyes Wide Shut.

I haven’t written in a week. A WEEK. And an incredible amount has happened since then. I got a brilliant job, sent my two girlfriends who were staying with me back home and became addicted to smoothies. I am working solid for the next ten days and enjoying the quiet of my home before I pass out. So excuse this brain dead entry. But I promise I will fill you in on all the awkward moments that are my life. Even with the success, the ridiculousness of the single world follows me.

Jun 01 2010

Living by the Spinning Ball of Death.

Since all of my correspondence is online, I should describe the machine that tells my stories. It is a Mac PowerBook G4 that I bought in 2002. Eight years ago. About three years ago, it decided that keeping its memory and turning on was for jerks and so decided to stop. Wiped out all of my photos, stored information and gave me a smily face and nothing else when I pushed the power button. For a kidney and my left leg, I managed to take my Mac to a place that restored everything and got my computer to understand that being functional is cool.

About a year later my fat cat decided that the number four was offensive and pulled it off the keyboard. I managed to mash it back into place. Kinda. And last year the letter T looked at him funny so he ripped it off and ate half. As a result I have no T and have to go back and add most of my Ts to my entry after it is written.

Over the past two years my Mac thought that a paid for fast connection to the internet was too flashy and would humble me by talking a minute or two to load every page. It also thought that the internet was getting too much attention, so would close the application every so often to remind me that I also had iPhoto. 

My Mac thinks that the wireless world is a frivolous luxury and stored power on a battery is a waste of time so if it is unplugged is shuts down. Instantly.

My computer also does not have a built in camera so I have a clip on one for the computer which makes me look like I am talking to you from a cave in the Himalayas, thinks youtube and any kind of streaming video is unnecessary and thinks volume over a whisper is obnoxious. Basically my computer is a prudish grumpy tight fisted curmudgeon.

And so these entries take almost an hour to write because of all the technical obstacles. If I had a normal machine, it wouldn’t take more than 10 minutes. Thankfully work is on the way and blissfully work brings money. And money is going to bring me a nice shiny new computer that will do what I say, instead of the other way round. In a couple weeks this relic will be sent to the Smithsonian as a battered antique. And I would love to give you a sentimental wrap up of how much I will miss it, but if you have heard a word I have said you will know I can’t wait to dump the piece of crap and get my hot trophy wife of an Apple.

I am coming for you baby!

May 31 2010

The Good Finish First.

I just got off the phone with one of the most melodramatic tortured people I know. We have been friends for over a decade and he made a choice many years ago that put power and fame ahead of family and selflessness. Every so often I hear from him and it is usually one extreme or another. Spinning words of love and wisdom and deep philosophy, or a coldness bordering on a cruelness. 

Which made me think. Genuine goodness is what I want from people. People who embody heightened greatness have the ability for the opposite end of the spectrum. Understand I am not saying I want mediocrity, or someone who settles, or who has no drive or passion or light or gift. But a heightened level of greatness usually comes at a cost that I do not desire. And that cost haunts the person in their quiet moments and turns them to places of darkness.

Goodness, not greatness, is what I want to surround myself with. Moments of brilliance and shining will come but it is will come via earning, not trading those you love in for recognition and power.

So though it was an exhausting phone call, it was rewarding. He wanted me to have my eyes opened because of all of his projected enlightenment, but rather it showed me with clarity and compassion what I actually want in myself and my community. So thanks for the call. I learnt a lot.


Illogical Logic.

As previously explained, I do not know how to not give someone my number when they ask. You can’t give a wrong number because 99% of the time they call you on the spot so you can “have theirs.” I can’t be rude and say no, because majority of the time it is a friend of a friend at a party that is asking me and I don’t know how close they are and don’t want to offend someone. And on and on.

As a consequence of this problem, some strange people have my number. One such person called me several times and left messages. I never responded. I then bumped into him at a party and he gave me a talking to. He acted all possessive and weird wanting to know my exact reasons for not calling him back. AKWARD. 

Anyway after that night I took him out of my phone. Makes sense, right? Don’t like someone, delete them from your phone. WRONG. THIS DOES NOT MAKE SENSE. Learn from my stupidity, my children.

Two nights ago I was just about to fall asleep and my phone rang. It was a Los Angeles number I didn’t recognize. Because I was sleepy and because I am waiting for news about my job I answered it. Guess who. Yep. “Can’t-Take-A-Hint” Guy.

He was, again, rude. I was caught off guard since it had been over a month since the run in. I got off the phone quickly and then just as quickly PUT HIS NUMBER BACK IN MY PHONE.

Here is the lesson: You can not screen calls of the unlikeables unless you know it is them calling. So make sure you have the number of everyone you don’t want to talk to in your phone. And mark them clearly.

Deleting a number only applies to exes you are trying not to call anyone. it is a removal of temptation (though if you are that tempted by a person you probably have their number memorized). If YOU are the temptation, keep the number so when your phone rings in the middle of the night you can safely press “Ignore” and go back to sleep.

Trust me to have to learn even the simplest common sense lesson the hard way. Ugh how many other numbers have I deleted? Gotta live by the default rule now. Let all unrecognized numbers go to voicemail. So amateur.

May 30 2010

Identify Yourself.

I met a beautiful successful 32 year old woman today who is single. She told me there is no way I will meet a man in Los Angeles. She then explained why. She said there are 4 types of men. Here is how she broke it down:

  • The Agent: The only smart men in LA. They are the only ones who have gone to university and can hold an intellectual conversation. She said they are creepy, slimy opportunist. They are the worst of all 4 kinds of men.
  • The Director: They are CRAZY. Certifiable and should be on meds. They are erratic but draw women in with their creative powerful charm.
  • The Producer: They are jaded and have been in the industry way too long to be normal with a woman. Their egos and expectations are way outta whack.
  • The “Range Rover Driving- Super Good Looking- Sleeps on His Friend’s Couch While He Gets His Life Together” Guy: You end up paying for everything while he talks about himself all the time and tells you about the girl he knows that once hung out with Britney Spears’s old back up dancer. Enough said.

That’s it. Those are all the men in Los Angeles. She said my only hope is to meet a young cool indie film producer or director, but if they become successful then they will fall into the second or third category and it is all over. 

I adore her. She is sweet. But I hope I don’t end up thinking that of men in this town. That being said I don’t know any of the above types of men. I know no  directors or producers or hot nothings. And the only agent I know is mine and he is super dope from out East.

She said it made her feel nervous even though she isn’t looking for a relationship. She said realizing that you have no options because the men are so screwy out here gets worrisome. How will Mr Right ever just show up, when his type doesn’t exist in this town?

I feel like this town does turn men into jaded needy boys with unrealistic expectations but it also turns girls in hardened jaded macho women who know no compromise. So for right now I take myself out of the Los Angeles equation. I am still a visitor. Not a girl from here. And I will keep an open heart and mind to the men out here. Who knows. She may be wrong. Right?


Thank you.


Fourth on the Left.

Why are all the good ones taken? And why are all the good ones trying to cheat on their wife? Hmmmmm? Leaves me thinking, are there any good ones?


I went to a pool party up in the hills today. Lots of fancy people with fancy jobs. When I was up at the grill to grab a piece of lasagna (this was my third visit after already having a cheeseburger AND a chicken kebab) an attractive very white, very blond man started talking to me. We chatted while I waited for my unnecessary pasta and I asked what he did. Turns out he is a professional hockey player. And when I say that I mean that he was a NHL star for 11 years. I of course had no clue who he was.

He was interesting and smart and very Scandinavian. Down to earth and lovely. He was cool so we talked and it was easy. Anyway I really thought not much of it… until the ride home when my girlfriend said to me “He was wearing a silver band on his wedding finger.” I was shocked. Now I must say he didn’t do anything untowards at all. He wasn’t flirty or creepy. He didn’t ask for my number. But he also made no mention of his other half. Now that may also be a cultural thing. I know the Scandys can be very egalitarian in their relationships. 

This isn’t an entry to rag on him, it just go me thinking about a lot of nice guys that I have met that make no mention of their wives/ girlfriends/ children. Nothing. Nada. And so they really aren’t nice guys at all. In fact they are way worse than the creepy “for real single” guys who are just trying to mac.

All this to say, I think Mr Hockey was cool today. He didn’t do anything wrong. But a lot of men are prowling while they have a wife at home. Which just floors me. Why would would I want to be your wife after I have seen how much respect you have for the one you got?

Lesson of the day: Look at the hand and treat the man accordingly. Also at Hollywood pool parties, drink more and think less. Why do I always have to write heavy blogs? Today was a wicked day of fun, sun and a BBQ.

May 27 2010

Draft From the Past.

Today I found a note I wrote to myself about love. I don’t think I am ready to share it just yet but it shocked me. I wrote it almost exactly one month ago. I always thought I was in charge of love and knew how to protect myself from the harsher sides of it. This note declared all of those protections gone. I felt like I was reading someone else’s diary. The diary of someone very brave. The diary of someone I would want to be.

So my advice to you is when you have an odd thought, or hear something that strikes you, or deal with something that makes you question your status quo, write it down. And I know in this day and age no one is walking around with a pen and paper attached to their bodies. I wrote this note as an email to myself and saved it as a draft. Unromantic I know. But it was a hidden note about love. You really can’t get more romantic than that.

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