Going Rogue

I made a terrible realization the other day. I realized that I assume I will fail.

I've been an actor for 20 years. I studied for 7 years with some of the best teachers in the country. I worked on my skills, honed my talent, paid my money for all the tools I would need to have a successful career, and success has been nothing but elusive. Every time I'm about to get to the next level, a brick wall is thrown up in front of me. Nothing about being an artist has been easy for me. So my default setting is assuming failure. I realize that I now assume that everything I try will fail. I made the unpleasant discovery that success doesn't even seem like a possibility anymore. Because failure is all I have ever known.

This makes me incredibly sad.

I keep going, though, because in my heart it's what I know I'm supposed to do. I've tried doing other things, I've walked away from being an artist for years at a time. But that is soul-crushing, I've learned that the hard way. Being successful at something else does not make me happy. Not in a meaningful way.

I'd like to think that at some point, something will be easy. That my hard work and dedication will pay off. That someone will say YES. YES, Amy Clites, we want to work with you. YES, Amy Clites, not only do we think you have talent, but we know just what to do with it. My problem has never been a lack of talent. My problem has always been that I don't fit into any mold, so nobody has ever known how to capitalize on what I have to offer. (CAPITALIZE is the operative word there - people don't know how to make money off me.)

I recently had breakfast with a friend who just celebrated a milestone birthday. When taking stock of where she is right now versus where she thought she'd be, the truth was that she doesn't have any of the things she thought she'd have at this age. But instead of it bringing her down, she said it was actually freeing. She made the realization that it was time to go rogue. And I'm going rogue right with her. We've been fed all these ideas about how to be successful and none of them have worked for us. We've played by the rules, we've taken the classes, we've gotten the right pictures, we've learned how to typecast ourselves, and NONE of it is working. As my friend told me, it's time to trail blaze.

FUCK everything that I've been taught. I'm not playing by anybody else's rules anymore except my own. You think you can tell me what I need to do to succeed? GREAT! But guess what? Tried it! Didn't work for me! Doesn't feel authentic to who I am! So fuck all that. As my sage-like movement teacher in grad school, Loyd Williamson, would say, "Go your own way."

Starting today I'm doing things differently. How? I have no fucking idea yet. I have no idea how this will take shape. I have no road map. It's time to go inward, to listen to my heart and my intuition. To say YES to things that feel good and right and NO to things that don't. "One size fits all" success is not in the cards for me. I started on that journey - getting the education, doing the networking, taking MORE classes, paying MORE people to teach me the secret to success. Yeah, fuck that. I'm in the same place pretty much that I was 20 years ago - expect MUCH deeper in debt. That shit does not work for me.

When I was a teenager, I thought of myself as a nonconformist. Somewhere along the way I bought into the idea that I needed to conform in order to succeed. How the fuck did that happen?

I'm going rogue, y'all. It's time to be a stubborn, incorrigible nonconformist. Stay tuned.

Showing My Work

I've been anxiously waiting for a book that I've had on hold at the library, and finally got it into my hot little hands yesterday afternoon, after a wait of about three months.

I'm already finished reading it.

In fairness, it's a short book, easily digested, but it is FULL of GREAT and USEFUL IDEAS. That book is "Show Your Work" by Austin Kleon.

Do you know him? If not, you should check him out. Particularly if you are a creative type person. His first book, "Steal Like an Artist" is also right on the money. You can find out all about his books and his blackout poetry at www.austinkleon.com.

I've been thinking about this concept - showing my work - for a few months now. Ever since I started on the journey of The Artist's Way, back in August. A journey which is coming to an end this week. I'm a changed person because of it.

I've got lots of ideas brewing in this brain of mine. I'm smack-dab in the middle of working on a Young Adult novel - called "New Summerland" - as part of NaNoWriMo. This very blog you're reading right now is scheduled for a New Years overhaul, and I'm pretty excited about it. I've got a better idea of what direction I'm heading in, and I'm excited to share it with you.

I've been enjoying this new process of showing my work on a regular basis. I thank you for going on this ride with me, and sharing your work with me. We're all in this together. We are all students and teachers, simultaneously.

Go forth and create! And show me what you're working on!

NaNoWriMo 2014 - Am I Crazy?!

I've been talking about writing a book. For YEARS. Have I done it? Nope. It's really easy to put off writing a book. Staring at that blank page, thinking about all the words you still have to write, trying to figure out how to structure the damn thing, looking for some kind of divine intervention...yeah, way easier to clean the bathroom and re-organize the garage than get started on that novel.

In an interesting bit of synchronicity, I have been lately thinking again seriously about writing a book, and stumbled on this little thing called National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo for short. Basically, it is a challenge to write 50,000 words during the month of November. If you finish, you win. Approximately 250,000 people take the challenge, and only 33,000 win.

Well, crap, if you make it a competition of course I want to win!

So, I threw my hat in the ring. I had an idea for a Young Adult novel in October, so I decided to run with it. Flying by the seat of my pants. I'm two days and 4,426 words in. It is extremely helpful to have a deadline and to know that the most important goal is to just get the words on the page. Keep typing. Don't get mired down in details. Start and JUST KEEP GOING TIL YOU FINISH.

This is the perfect set-up for me.

You may not hear from me quite so often this month, as some of my dedicated blogging time will now be novel-writing time, because I am determined to finish this thing. I want to be able to look back at the end of the year and think I WROTE A BOOK. A WHOLE BOOK!!

Anyone want to join me?

NAKED PICTURES OF ME - Do I Have Your Attention Now?

I've been thinking a lot about attention lately, and how it relates to art. Or, more importantly, how it relates to making a living in the arts. To distill it down to its essence, it seems you cannot have success ($$) without attention. So basically, whether or not you are going to succeed, whether or not you are going to make money and not have to pack it all in and move back in with mom and dad back in Indiana, is all based on whether or not you can attract attention. Yet I feel the word "attention" is much maligned in the media (thus bringing even more attention to it). "Attention" is often paired with "whore", so anyone seeking attention is cast in an unflattering light. I guess my question is, what does it take to attract attention to yourself, to your work? In a cluttered market, what makes you stand out? I'd like to think talent is important, but I've learned the hard way that talent is not an essential part of the success equation. It's not really even necessary. I've been deemed "talented" by just about everyone I've worked with, but after 20 years I'm still just barely scraping by. I've been told by some of the most esteemed teachers in the business that I have "it", that I have what it takes to "make it" if I just hang in there long enough. That I am special. That's nice to hear, but the harsh truth is that I am not special in the marketplace. I am either uncastable, not fitting into any perceived, marketable category (how many times have I heard "I love you, but I don't know what to do with you", or conversely, "I already have half a dozen women just like you on my roster"?) Too many soccer moms, too many funny aunts, too many nosy neighbors, too many average-looking, middle-aged women. I don't stand out. While I relate this conundrum to acting, I do think it applies to just about any artistic medium. What does it take to attract attention to the work you do? And how do you avoid being called an "attention whore" for trying to get people to look in your direction for more than half a second? I know - you build a website, you send email newsletters, you post constantly on Facebook and Twitter, you send out mailers, you take class after class, you pay for casting director workshops, you "build your brand." Hell, you make sex tapes or have naked pictures of you leaked. You spend 95% of your time promoting yourself and 5% of your time actually making art. I think the way we educate artists is fucked up. I spent 7 years and $85,000 on my education. I spent 95% of my time working on my art and 5% of my time learning how to promote myself. I now can't get a job. Why aren't institutions of higher learning focusing more on how actors treat themselves like businesses? Why aren't we learning how to make a business plan, how to set up an LLC, how to file taxes with deductions, how to create a marketing plan, how to have CONFIDENCE in your brand so that you can tout to the world how awesome it is? Artists should be required to minor in business or marketing. Instead, it seems the only way I'll every pay off my student loans is by getting a job outside my field of expertise, outside of the business that I trained for and paid big money to learn how to do expertly. Seriously, though, and I know I've gone on a little rant here, but it is important - how do you attract attention without alienating everyone? You must be just as sick of getting invited to 75 improv shows a week as I am. Now that there are so many ways to scream out to the masses, how does that even get heard? Success is no longer based on what you have to offer, but on how loudly you can scream. I told you there would be naked pictures of me.

Happy International Stage Managers Day!

Did you know October 10th is a holiday? (Stand by Sound Cue 1 hand-clapping)

Well, you do now! It's International Stage Managers Day! Woo hoo! (Sound Cue 1 hand-clapping GO).

Those of you in the theater world know just how invaluable a good stage manager is, and how the success of a show is largely in their hands.  For those of you not in the theater world, here's just a small sampling of the kinds of things that stage managers do:

1. Setting up rehearsal schedules and making sure everything runs on time, which means constantly reminding actors when and where they need to be.
2. Scheduling costume fittings and making sure actors remember to show up.
3. Overseeing all the physical attributes of a production such as lighting, sets and costumes, and making sure actors don't mess those things up by doing stupid things like eating in costume or touching props that don't belong to them.
4. Writing down all the blocking for the director during the rehearsal process, so when an actor forgets where they are supposed to be someone can remind them.
5. Being "on book" during rehearsal in case an actor forgets his next line, so he can be fed the line after calling "line".
6. Taking line notes during rehearsal so that when an actor says a line incorrectly they can be reminded to say it correctly.
7. Preparing a prompt book for all the lighting and sound cues during the show.
8. Calling a show during performance (i.e. being in charge of all the cues and telling board ops and backstage crew exactly when to execute each cue so things run smoothly).
9. Being in charge of all the backstage and on stage areas during the show.
10. Ensuring the welfare of the entire cast and crew by knowing safety regulations, laws, health codes, etc.
11. Keeping track of actors' valuables during the show.
12. Basically being a superhero that the production could not possibly live without.

Everyone involved in a production has a relationship with the stage manager, they are the hub of all activity. It's a tough and often thankless job, especially when they have to deal with egomaniacal actors or directors (not that I would know anything about THAT of course).

If you haven't already done so, please take a moment today to thank and maybe even hug a stage manager. You should also buy them a cup of coffee and even bake them some cookies, because they are the first ones to come in and the last ones to leave each night. They deserve some damn cookies.

Thank you to all the wonderful stage managers whom I have worked with over my 20 years in the theater. You guys are all rock stars!!

You Ever Have One of Those Days?

You ever have one of those days, where everything feels like a big bowl of cold oatmeal? Where nothing you think of, nothing you hope to do, stirs any excitement in you? Where everything you create or think about creating sounds mediocre at best? Where it seems like everyone but you is succeeding? Where everyone but you has great ideas, and knows how to perfectly execute them?

I'm having one of those days today.

I know, logically, there are ups and downs in the creative process. My left brain is busy at work this morning talking my tender and easily-hurt right brain off the ledge. They then come to a standstill and stare, unblinkingly, at the blinking cursor on the white page.

Stare. Stare. Stare.

My right brain is really putting up a fight this morning, throwing all the old standards at me, you know the ones:

"You're a hack."

"You have the suggestion of talent, but lack real skill in anything."

"You have fallen so far behind the pack, you might as well just give up."

The good news is, I have enough self-awareness to know that these are the same old arguments that come up every time I'm feeling blocked or out of sorts. I recognize the Beast of Self Doubt for what he is - a flim flam man, a shyster, playing to my insecurities in moments of weakness. Fighting him begins with awareness, of knowing that he sings the same songs every time, badly and in a too-loud voice.

Just writing this is helping to silence him, a little bit. But he'll be back. He always comes back.

How do you deal with your inner critic? How do you nurture your childlike, creative being and keep the dogs at bay? What are the tools you use to survive another day and get back on the creative wagon? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. I can always use some good defensive strategies for this ongoing battle.

Free the Artist, Not the Art

Show of hands - how many of you out there are willing to pay for art? How many of you believe that an artist should be paid for her output, whether it be a musical performance, an essay, a graphic design, or a painting of your dog?

Alright, another show of hands - how many of you have gotten these things for free? Have you attended a free concert in the park, or gotten free tickets to a show, or shared a music download with someone for free, or asked a friend for a favor to create a little logo for your blog?

I've certainly been on the receiving end of free art. But I've also been a giver of free art. For far, far too long. I daresay our culture has given us a sense that art should be given for free.

As I struggle to embrace the idea that I deserve to be paid for what I create, I'm surrounded by messages that it has little value. That art is a hobby, not a vocation.

If art is a hobby, why did I spend over $100,000 for my education? Why did I earn an advanced degree? Why do I continue honing my craft in endless classes? So that I could get a job as an administrative assistant and pursue art on the side? Fuck that.

I'm so tired of working for free. I'm tired of being expected to work for free, even from my own peers. I'm sick that our culture allows us to perpetuate this myth that it costs nothing to produce art, and that it is easy - anybody could do it at an expert level. How many plays have I been in where I haven't gotten a dime? Or if I did get the union stipend of $15 per performance, I was expected to give it back to the theater, just so they would survive? How is my time of no value?

As artists, we're encouraged to work for free, in the beginning. It's a way to establish contacts and gain some experience. But I'm almost 40 - when does that stop? When will I actually be able to start paying on my student loans? Is it only when I give up what it is I trained to do? What I'm good at, and what makes my heart happy? The thing I feel I was put on this earth to do?

I've been told, time and again, that I undervalue myself. But how do I find value in myself if other people don't think there is value in what I offer?

I'm making a promise to myself today. If you are an artist that is struggling as I am, I hope you will join me in this. I refuse to keep working for less than what I am worth. I refuse to "give up" because society thinks that is the responsible thing to do. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is the work I am meant for, and I will no longer undervalue myself. If someone doesn't want to pay for what I have to offer, then I will move on and look for someone who does. They are out there, somewhere. I won't find them if I continue to settle for less.

I am taking back my life today.

My Life Essentials for Happiness: Then and Now

I recently allowed myself a little trip down Memory Lane, vis-a-vis some writing I did about ten years ago.

Good God, was that ever eye-opening.

Writing has not, until the last two years, been a regular thing in my life. I have wanted to write, but hated the act of sitting down to write. It has only been through discipline - and a regular writing gig - that I have finally made peace with the more frustrating parts of writing and have made it a part of my routine. It is becoming habit. And I'm glad of this, because I look forward to reading what I'm writing now in the coming years. It's an excellent way to see how things have changed, and how they've stayed the same. It's the road map of your life, showing you where you've been so you have a better idea of where you are and where you may be going.

There is nothing more telling than reading what you have written, especially of moments long forgotten. Reliving the experience of being a recently divorced, single-and-not-loving-it, twenty-something, struggling artist in NYC was both unpleasant and enlightening. It was unpleasant to live most of that stuff. It's unpleasant to be reminded of it. But thank God I've gotten to the point where it is enlightening.

I made a list on May 6th, 2004, of the ten things I needed in my life to be happy. I was four months into a six month national theater tour, living out of a suitcase and spending every night in a different city, usually in a crappy motel room shared with three other people. I became used to a life of depravation, and to my surprise discovered that I was happier than I had been in a long time. In my attempt to define what, exactly, was making me so happy, I came up with this list:

Ten Essentials for Life Happiness

1. My own bed (I had been sharing a bed with another actor - totally platonic - for four months and missed having the bed all to myself.)
2. A good book, a real page turner
3. Some great tunes for singing along
4. Delicious food and drink at least once a week (Mexican food and Chai Lattes)
5. Clean clothes
6. Companionship/good conversation
7. A little time alone every day
8. Nasal spray and aspirin
9. An opportunity to be creative
10. A hot shower

What surprised me most when reading this, ten years later, is that very little has changed. With perhaps the exception of #1 (now that I happily share a bed with Hubs), those all pretty much hit the nail on the head, even now. My creative soul has stayed true to itself, all these years, and no matter what choices I make, what I try to do to evade those things I really want in order to behave in a way that everyone else thinks is "responsible", that simple list is what I need to be happy. I might add a little piece of earth with which to garden, and the food choices now lean more towards Indian food and great wine, but the companionship, the presence of art and music, the opportunity to be alone, my basic needs met - these are really all I need to be happy. And the damn nasal spray and aspirin - my sinuses still bother me and I haven't been able to really kick that habit in a way that sticks.

What do you need to be happy? What are the basics that you can pare your life down to in order to feel content and fulfilled on a daily basis? What can you get rid of that isn't serving you, or is weighing you down needlessly with additional responsibility?

In and Out

This morning I had my dreaded "Job Search Assistance" appointment with the Employment Development Department for the State of California.  Barf.

For the last two weeks I've had to record all the jobs I've applied for as well as upload my resume to the job search assistance website for California.  Double Barf.  I've also spent this time imagining the horror that awaited me - body pressed against sweaty, smelly body in a crowded flourescent-lighted city office as I and dozens more listened to an underpaid and overworked city official describe in excruciating detail how to conduct a job search online.  Having the same city official look at me with disdain in her eyes as she encourages me to apply for any job out there - hey, we have a receptionist position open in this office! - nevermind that I have a very expensive graduate degree that I have yet to pay for (8 years later and counting, groan...).

So it was with barely-contained anxiety that I dressed myself as professionally and cute as could be this morning, as if my clothes could shout "Hey, I don't need you to tell me how to find a job!  See how well-dressed I am?", while having visions of myself pulling a George Costanza with my petulant interviewer.

Imagine my surprise, then, as I pulled up to the office in Marina Del Rey with plentiful parking just steps from the office door, walked in and noticed that not only were there no other people waiting in line, but that there were only two chairs in the waiting room - as if they never expected anyone to wait.  Guess I didn't need to bring my book.  I sauntered up to the counter, vaguely confused by the situation, where a very cute man took down my name and asked me to hold on just a moment as he rounded up my interviewer.  Should I have a seat?  Oh no, that won't be necessary.  Why thank you.  Smile, smile, make eye contact with the Very Cute Man, bat the eyes a little.  Hey, if a little flirting is all it takes to make this process go faster, then I'm all for it.  I'm glad I decided to dress cute.

Just then, Darryl, my interviewer, appeared in all his big, black, boisterous glory.  He asked me for the paper I had filled out with my job search results, at the top of which I had written in big letters so I wouldn't forget - BRING SS CARD. 

"Can I see your Secret Service Card?"

"Huh?"

"You wrote up here to remember to bring your Secret Service Card."

Wow - there's even humor here!

"Yep, I brought it, it's gold-plated, you ever see one?"

"Ah, I'm just joshin' with ya'."

I immediately like Darryl. 

Darryl takes me back to his cubicle, where he reviews my passport (and my Secret Service Card, which was in my passport) and looks me up in the system.  He then proceeds to tell me that there are three things he needs to cover with me.  1) - that I am who I say I am, as evidenced by my passport.  2) - that I am capable and have been looking for work, as evidenced by my completed paperwork.  And 3) - that I have a resume posted on their job assistance website, as evidenced by my resume staring back at me from Darryl's computer screen.  Bing, bang, bong.  Looks like we're all covered.  Darryl then informs me he's looking forward to his blueberry muffin and that he must accompany me out the door because, hey, if Denzel Washington were in here they don't want him to be ambushed.  I'm not sure why Denzel Washington would be in the unemployment office in Marina Del Rey, but I went with it and also heard Darryl's story of meeting Denzel while working as an extra on a film set.  Only in Hollywood.  I got my parking validated by the Very Cute Man and I was outta there.  It took about 5 1/2 minutes total.  Awesome.

Speaking of in and out, I am completely absorbed by the story of the Chilean miners and will be glued to CNN all night watching for the moment that they extract the first miner from that Death Hole.  The Chilean government has gone to great lengths to make this a media-friendly event (they have a live satellite feed of the process) and yet they also seem to be doing a good job of keeping the men separated from the media vultures that will no doubt be immediately swarming them.  I am interested to see this story unfold over the next couple of days.  I'll be sure to have my box of tissues nearby.

All this talk of in and out, I think I need to go get a burger...

Go Happy, Blog-Friends!
Amy

Is That In the Schedule?

Well, hello there, Blog-Friends!  Long time, no see.  Is this turning into a weekly blog?  It kinda seems so, based on my behavior.  But do I really need to impose that sort of schedule on a blog?  Can I just write, you know, whenever I feel like it?  That's just so out of character for me.  For three years I have been the Keeper of the Schedule...not my own, really, but my boss's schedule (and let's face it, he was WAY busier than me).  So I think I've become programmed to schedule every day down to the half-hour.  Hey, at least it's not down to the minute.  Not yet, anyway.  Give me a few weeks.

Take this whole unemployment thing.  I've basically arranged my weekdays to reflect that of your typical desk jockey:  wake up, work-out, shower, get ready, eat breakfast, "report" to work.  9am-1pm is for responding to emails, browsing for jobs, reading the latest industry and world news, and admittedly checking out my friends' Facebook pages (cuz, hey, I did that at my office job, too).  1pm-2pm is for lunch (longer if I have a lunch date, as you have to accommodate for transit times - I used to actually schedule "transit" in my boss's schedule - and it was always in blue).  2pm-6pm is for longer-range planning, strategizing, project implementation, more browsing for jobs, snack breaks, perhaps even an errand or two.  But now there's all kinds of other stuff coming up, and I think - where is that going to go in the schedule?  For example, I desperately need to learn some rudimentary Spanish for my upcoming trip to South America (I found through experience that it's pretty essential to be able to ask where the nearest bathroom is).  Does that fall into my "work" day?  Or is that for my "time off"?  If I study Spanish from, say, 3-4pm every day, does that count as goofing off?  Should I wait until I "clock out" at 6pm?  How about that etsy shop I want to open?  Does making upcycled handbags count as my primary work, or should it be relegated to the "moonlighting" position?  And why the hell am I even obsessing over this?  Is that OCD gene kicking in?  Or is it my middle-class guilt that I'm collecting a wage (unemployment) without really doing anything?  Good lord, sounds like I need a Valium.  I think I have a bad case of Calendar-related Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  After so many years of living and dying by The Schedule, it's hard to let go.

Oh, it's 12pm PST.  Time for my regularly schedule bathroom break. 

Go Happy, my Blog-Friends!
Amy

Where the Hell Have You Been?

Hola, Blog-Friends!

It's shameful that a whole week has gone by without one post from me.  How did this happen?  I'm unemployed, for god's sake, shouldn't that mean I have unlimited time for silly pursuits like a daily blog?  Apparently not.  Friends who have also recently been laid off tried to warn me that after the first week of dithering around you suddenly and inexplicably get really busy.  But busy doing what, exactly?

Well, for starters, I filmed an episode of a reality tv show on Monday.  Before you groan and tell me that no matter what I may have said or how good my intentions were, they are going to edit the crap out of it to make me look like either an asshole or an idiot.  Which may be true (I may not even need their help with that!).  But I figured what the hell, right?  It's called Character Fantasy, and it airs on USA during the commercial breaks of the USA movie.  Basically, they show you living out some kind of fantasy for a day.  I was cast in the "fantasy spa day" episode because the producers liked my story of being recently laid off and needing a spa day to rejuvenate and refresh so that I could proceed with my job search with a "fresh, new face and attitude!".  So Monday was a gruelling day of....massages and hot stone reflexology and deep-cleansing facials.  Oh, and a plug for Betty Crocker "Warm Delights" (I got to go home with a case!).  So be on the lookout for me late October being "surprised" at my apartment and whisked away to a day spa for some full-on pampering.  Pretty cool.

What else?  Well, I ran a 10K on Sunday morning and finished with my best time ever - 1:01:02 - for the first time averaging less than a 10 minute mile.  It was pretty awesome, even though the event was poorly organized (I couldn't find the start line, they ran out of water at the finish line before I got there, they ran out of goody bags before I got the expo, etc, etc, etc...fuckers).  I still didn't beat the guys who were running barefoot (can you believe that shit?  Barefoot on the street in Santa Monica?  No thanks.), but I still beat the 80 year old lady and the guy on crutches, so I got that going for me.

Hmmmm....I also did a staged reading of a play I've been writing over the last year with my dear friend, Lita.  Thanks to all who came.  I don't write alot, and when I have I know how hard it is to finally put your stuff out there and get feedback on it.  In fact, I always try to remember that when I'm asked to give my thoughts on other people's projects (and having worked in development for the last three years, it was almost daily).  It takes alot of nerve to open yourself up like that, and I have enormous respect for those who do it much more frequently (and graciously) than I do it.  But Lita and I got some insightful notes that will help take the project to the next level.  Onwards and upwards!

Gosh, what else?  I got new headshots taken, now comes the process of narrowing 500 pictures down to 10 so that I can get some feedback on those.  I don't know about the rest of you who get headshots taken, but I find it kind of stressful and exhausting.  I generally take good pictures, but it's still nerve-wracking to wonder if you are getting the shots you want, especially knowing how much money and time you are investing into them.  I think my shots turned out pretty good.  It's funny, though, to compare them to the first ones I got ten years ago.  I can see the age in my face, although I think I still look pretty damn good. :-)




Is this a good commercial shot?

Oh, and one of the things I have been looking forward to in my unemployment is finally having the chance to sample all the food trucks around LA (since, hell, I can spend the afternoon driving around looking for them).  Lucky for me, I hit the motherload of food trucks, and only about a half mile from my apartment!  Apparently they like to congregate behind the MTV building in Santa Monica at lunchtime...

The Greasy Weiner


Frankly, the "Greasy Weiner" truck sounds more like hangover food to me, so I opted to sample the tasty fare at India Jones.  I had a delicious paneer "Frankie" - you might call it an indian burrito with fried paneer and mango chutney wrapped in a grilled tortilla.  I sat on the grass next to my car and watched all the Viacom execs and production crews walking by with their baggies of trendy fast food.  It's nice to view them in their native habitat like this.

What's in store for later?  Why, dollar tacos and margaritas at Don Antonio's of course!

Go Happy,
Amy

COBRA and Other Venomous Specimens

I have officially made it through one week of unemployment.  I'll admit, though I've made endless "to do" lists and have had a flurry of energy, I had moments of feeling at loose ends.  Moments where I felt that all my glorious planning about What To Do Next had done nothing but create a mountain of not-yet-started projects that, at times, felt insurmountable.

I felt a bit like that today.  Dealing with anything related to health insurance makes me want to jump off the Santa Monica bluffs on my next morning run, so I've been putting off looking at the big packet that recently came in the post containing everything I ever wanted to know, or not know, about COBRA.  For my dear Blog-Friends who may be reading this in Canada (or some other country lucky enough to have socialized medicine) and are super-confused about why I may be receiving poisonous snakes in the mail, COBRA stands for the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconstruction Act.  Quite a mouthful, no?  Basically, it means that I can elect to pay the premium so that I can continue to have health insurance coverage.  So that if I were to, say, be bitten by a cobra I could actually go to the hospital for it.  Ain't America great?  However, I swear you have to have a doctoral degree to understand the minutiae of this literature they send to you.  But I think I have it figured out.  If I am summarizing the information correctly, it goes something like this:  pay us an obscene amount of money, and we'll try to do our best to make sure you don't die.  Or something like that.

So while I might dream at night of being bitten by venomous snakes and have moments of ambiguity during my days, for the most part this unemployment thing is pretty awesome.  That being the case, I find it amusing that when I tell people of my recent lay-off, the first thing they want to do is console me.  I'm not quite sure why this is, since usually my admission is complemented by a huge smile or a shout of "Yahoo!".  I don't need to be consoled.  I needed the consolation when I was employed.  THAT was dreadful.  This...this ain't so bad.

Go Happy,
Amy

Sweet Dreams...

Reality? Check.

A few observations since beginning my "funemployment":

1.  There are alot of people at the gym at 10:30am.  Who are these people?  What do they do?  Are they unemployed like me?  Do they have night jobs?  Are they trust fund babies? (Probably no on that last one - I go to Bally's, a distinctly low-budget gym).  Having been holed up in a windowless cubicle from 9am - 7pm for the last three years, I'm amazed that there are people out and about during the day.  Riding bikes.  Shopping.  Having coffee.  Hell, there is more traffic on Santa Moncia Blvd. at noon than at 9am.  How is this possible?  And why has it taken me so long to join this terrifically sunshiney world? 

2.  In the 13 years that I have had my cat, I often find hairballs at least once or twice a week.  I have never actually witnessed him doing it, however.  No longer.  Now that I'm home during the day, I got to see it first hand.  It's pretty impressive.  One second - nothing there.  Next second - giant sticky, smelly mess on the floor.  Like magic.  Like it came through a wormhole.  Wow. 

3.  I have the ability to waste an enormous amount of time on Facebook.  Thank you, ny friends, for being  endlessly fascinating.

4.  Daytime TV is depressing.  I'm sorry Rachel Ray, but I find you kind of grating.  And don't even get me started on Oprah or Dr. Phil.  I'd rather gouge out my eye with a rusty spike.

5.  When I don't know what to do, or I am avoiding doing what I should be doing, I clean.  My apartment is going to be fucking spotless within the week.

6.  If I don't get out of my apartment regularly, I'm going to gain 20 pounds in a matter of days.  Food is my elixir for boredom and stress.  And the yogurt place across the street is constantly calling my name.

Still trying to sort this new reality out, but I'm definitely in it.

Go Happy,
Amy

I Had a Dream

I had a dream last night...

Okay, let me interrupt myself.  I don't often like to share my nightly dreams as I know that it can be excruciatingly boring for the listener, but I promise this one time it is relevant.

I had a dream last night that I got an 11th hour reprieve on my lay off, and was expected to report to work today.  In my dream I was devastated.  I did not want to go back there.  Lucky for me, I woke up shortly thereafter and realized with a sigh of relief that I would not be driving to Burbank this morning, and that I am, in fact, still unemployed.

Which leads me to today's biggest order of business:  filing for unemployment.

I received the above tome as part of my "separation packet" from my (now former) employer.  I must say, it's a little daunting.  I've never applied for unemployment insurance before, and if the stories from friends who have are true, what I have to look forward to are endless hours on hold, lenghty waiting periods, interviews that could go awry, and the possibility of a dispiriting appearance in Appeals Court.

Good times.

As I sit here in my pjs, I wonder just how many others are sitting in their pjs doing just as I am doing this morning.  If the statistics are true, today in the state of California it's approximately 4400 people.    That's an alarming number. 

I think before I endeavor to delve into this mass of confusing paperwork, I should head to the gym.  I believe it's going to be important to me to keep up my daily routine as much as possible, so I'll attempt to make sense of all of this at the more reasonable hour of say, 9:30am.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Until then, have a lovely Monday, dear Blog-Friend.

Go Happy.
Amy

What's this blog about, anyway?

So what's this blog about, anyway?

I'd say it's pretty obvious that this blog is about the fact that I've been let go from my job - "laid off" as it were - and this is what I have to say about that.

But, what, exactly, am I planning to say?  Or, more importantly, what exactly am I planning to do, now that I have nothing but a empty highway of time stretching out before me? 

Good question.

Well, for starters, I don't look at this whole "suddenly unemployed" situation as a bad one.  Quite the contrary.  I've been looking for a way out for awhile, and somebody went and had the balls to make my decision for me.  So I have to thank them for that.

For the last three years I've made it my business to make the lives of those that have employed me easier.  I've put myself, my real opinions and my true aspirations to the side in order to make someone else's life run smoothly.  I was really good at it.  And I really liked the people I worked for (most of them, anyway - let's face it, there are always a couple of douchebags in the mix).  But it had gotten to the point where I felt like suddenly The Man was totally in control in my life and somewhere along the way, amongst all my best intentions, I had let myself, my real self, slip away into the background.  That's no good.

So thank you, The Man, for firing me.  It's probably the best thing that could have happened.

Now what am I going to do?  Is this the beginning of an era, not unlike those three gruelling years of graduate school, where I unapologetically worship at the Temple of Me?  A little soul-searching, perhaps?  Where everything I do, everything I say, revolves around the exploration, discovery and mapping of my inner world?  Where, just like in that darkened movement studio so many years ago, I shouted (in my most well-supported voice, of course) "I have no apologies!" all while rapturously executing the entirely silly-looking physical exercises drilled into me by a megalomaniacal Acting Guru?

Maybe it'll be like that a little bit.  I hope, though, that the last three years of self-subjugation has driven home the point that there are, in fact, other people out there, who have hopes, dreams and fears of their own.  That while I may be the center of my universe, I'm not the center of THE universe.  So that while taking a little time for some self-discovery is all well and good and probably called for, that I musn't forget that I actually exist in the real world, with other people, and that what's going on with them matters, too.

That'd be good.  I'm gonna do that.  Well, I'm going to aspire to do that, anyway, and chronicle it here.  I'll endeavor to tell the truth, the whole truth, and not be boring.  And hopefully you'll enjoy reading it, dear Blog-Friend.  Or at least not want to throw tomatos at me.

Go Happy-

Amy

Buh-bye, windowless cube!