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I blog. I also mother, wife, create, preserve, recycle, cook, act, quilt, exercise, laugh, write, lolligag, work, volunteer, sing, and sometimes sleep.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Oh, Los Angeles

I left the house for work today carrying a binder full of music, a large papaya, a mason jar full of milk, a bag full of syringes, my phone, and a bottle of water (Reusable, Of course). For some reason this combination strikes me as funny. It's probably the papaya.

I left the house 30 minutes later than I had wanted to, which will extend my commute by probably hour. I knew this when I kept hitting the snooze button, but I couldn't help myself.  

I left my house and there's a car parked in front that looks just like my car so I go up to it and try to get in but I noticed that the interior upholstery is not the right color. And then I noticed that the exterior paint is not the right color, either, and I'm evidently trying to get into someone else's car. This also amuses me. 

Overall, I am amused but exhausted. I was up late writing. Working on episodes of the web series I'm trying to create, fielding other ideas in my brain as well, because this is what actors do now. I was always someone who liked to read someone else's lines. It's what I know. I'm really good at it. But then I started realizing I had other things to say. Besides, not every playwright is Tennessee Williams. Not every television show creator is Aaron Sorkin. Because of this, other people's lines aren't always terribly satisfying. And that's when I'm lucky enough to be cast in something!  Now, while I would not put myself on the same level as these amazingly talented people, creating my own story is more satisfying than waiting around to see what happens. At least for now. But it's also a whole new level of terrifying. Right now I'm working on writing a sitcom-like web series, a one woman show, a cabaret (different than the one woman show), a children's book series about chickens (still need an illustrator), a charactery how-to web series, and a novel. It's no wonder I've barely blogged lately. 

I'm a very rare thing in my profession: a Los Angeles native. Born and bred here (with the exception of a little bit of time in Nicaragua that I only barely remember), this is the city I know as my home. I've always defended it, I've appreciated it, I went to college here, even. I like taking advantage of what it has to offer. But lately, it's been pissing me off.

I don't like that it takes me 90 minutes to go 12 miles in the morning. I don't like that there's 2200 students in my daughter's middle school, and that I have to drive my son 15 minutes each way to his middle school, never mind the inconvenience that they are each at different middle schools. The weather is ridiculous. The heat is sapping my enthusiasm. We all complain on Facebook, we make with the jokes, but I haven't been able to feel productive in weeks.  Our thermostat in the house is set at 78 and yet our electric bill has never been higher.  Everyone is busy all of the time. When did this happen? When did we all get so busy? I've been trying to make plans for months with some friends and we simply can't find a time. Even my best friend and I only see each other when we work out.

More and more I find myself less and less in love with my hometown. I can't find anything of value here. There's been an uptick in crime in our neighborhood, so much so that I'm not willing to let my kids walk three blocks away to the 7-Eleven. The first two blocks would be fine, but that third block is kind of sketchy. Now, I'm not interested in having my kids grow up in some kind of white washed, sanitized version of life… But I also don't want them to get shot. 

My parents are here. My grandma is here. My mother in law is here. My work is here. We have a crazy rich network of friends here (even though there's not enough time to see them).  These are the things that keep us here. And as much as I would be terrified of the idea of packing up all the crap in our house, the house that we've lived in for the last 17 years, more and more lately I fantasize about moving away. Giving up the acting as work "dream", leaving everyone behind, and finding a new life in a smaller, slower town.  Somewhere where I can still perform on stage, so that I don't go absolutely crazy.  Somewhere with the school system that doesn't require you to jump through hoops, accumulate points, and have your children go to school miles and miles away from each other.  Somewhere where "rush-hour" is actually only an hour long. Somewhere where douche bags don't drive their Porsche SUVs around like they're the only person that matters in the whole world.  Somewhere where I can turn my air conditioning off in October.

 I'm not an idiot. I know what with these things come with. These things come with people who are small minded, no good Mexican food, the inability to find anything to do after 9 PM, douchebags that drive their pickup trucks around like they are the only thing that matter in the world, significant distance between family and friends…and I'm sure there's more I'm not thinking of.  

This is when I start dreaming of what Michael likes to call our "eco-Village". We find a great location, and fill it with people we like who wants to share resources and be a community. And then I get weighed down in the details, throw the whole concept out the window as being too hard to pull off and hope that my drive picks up.  Literally.  Because I wrote this whole thing with my dictation software as I sat without moving on Beverly Glen on my way in to work. 


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