Book research has begun.

It started a couple of days ago, with an idea sent to me by Marius. It's funny, we both thought we were on the same page until I sent him some of my research and the paragraphs I'd written, at which point he tells me we're going in opposite directions. Not only are we going in opposite directions, but we've apparently switched gender roles as well -- I'm researching and trying to figure out how to make it work, and he's taking the metaphysical route. Too funny.

That notwithstanding, I think this will be a grand adventure for the both of us. I can't wait to see how it turns out! The frustrating part is having to put it all on hold and go to work for 10 hours. Yuck. But they're only scheduling me for four shifts, so that leaves three full days to play. I just need to remember to take a notebook with me to work to write down ideas before they take a flying leap out of my brain. :)

I saw a car wreck on my way home from work the other day; the flashing lights of the ambulances and fire trucks a curiosity from afar.

As I drove closer, I could see a sliver of silver blue through the engines blocking half the road. There was a police officer directing traffic, trying to convince passers by to keep driving, keep walking, keep moving; don't stop, nothing to see here, go on about your business.

I couldn't see the cars until I was halfway through the intersection, and one of the ambulances roared away, sirens screaming over the din of radios and souped up engines.

There were two of them.

One was a compact or subcompact, maybe even a sedan -- it was impossible to tell which. I think it was upside down; the hood had been torn off, the front half of the vehicle unrecognizable. It lay crushed against the brick wall of a fence around someone's home, the wrought iron rods on top invisible.

The other was an SUV, also silver or light blue. It lay upside down, mangled beyond repair, on top of the iron bars of the fence. The front half shattered, dismembered; some in the street, some in a family's yard.

They must have been going fast to disintegrate that way, but I didn't see any skid marks on the asphalt, no evidence of any attempt to stop or slow down.

There was no mention of it in the paper or on the news, so I don't know if anyone survived.

I don't know how anyone could have.

Late start today, I know. I'm having a bit of trouble deciding what to write about, and my little Nala cat is being cute and purry and cuddly. :) I need to get a friend for her; I took out a full length mirror yesterday, and she cuddled right up against it and purred, and was not too happy when I put it away again. *sigh* Poor little cat. So, I've decided to adopt the next little stray I find. I just hope I don't find them in the engine compartment of my car like I did last time.

One month to go until classes start at UCLA. I'm really looking forward to it. Part of me feels like I should have done this a long time ago, and the other realizes that everything happens when it's supposed to. Hopefully this will lead to something good. At the very least, it will be time set aside to write every day.

Time to go to work. More later.

Back to O'Dark Thirty blogging. :)

I got the confirmation email from ucla extension this morning, I got into both courses I'd signed up for. Yay! I start in June. I am really looking forward to this. Maybe this will be a better path for me than acting, who knows. All I know at the moment is that I cannot stay where I am without losing my mind. I do not want to be a waiter for the rest of my life, thanks. So, I'm taking a break from acting, and doing something else for a while.

And studying for the damn GRE. I don't know how many of you reading this (is anybody except Marius reading this?) have taken or plan on taking that test, but it's $130 each time you take it. Ouch!! They sure do getcha there, don't they. Mayhap they want to ensure you're serious and not just screwing around? I don't care, $130 is still a lot of money to take a test.

I can't say I'm excited by the necessity of going to work today, but since there are bills to be paid, I must. Whee.

Heh heh.

Just sharing the juvenile humor.

I signed up for two classes today, through the extension program at UCLA. One is a two day workshop on writing personal essays, the other a full six week summer class about fiction writing. I'm just waiting for the email confirmation of my registration. The website listed both courses as open, so I should be fine. If not. . . well, I'll pick another class.

I don't know if the credits will transfer when I apply for the MFA program, but it doesn't matter. What matters is time set aside solely for the purpose of writing, building my skills, and work for submission for publication. Not to mention, getting used to a university environment again.

Today started out on a blah note, but turned out to be not so bad. Good stuff.

Oh. Start dates. The first class starts June 24th, the second, June 27th.

I sent a letter to the union today, requesting Honorable Withdrawal status. Which keeps everybody happy, and I don't pay dues, as I won't be seeking acting work during that time. Then when I get an acting job, I notify the union, pay my base dues, and I'm back in business. Good stuff.

Now, I'm off to the grocery store. I'll try not to cause a ruckus. :)

The last two days were too long. 10 and 11 hours , on my feet from six to four or six to five. I can't wait until I don't have to do this any more.

A co-worker suggested I apply for internships at TV stations, but I don't think that's what I want to do. I'd rather be able to write all day. Or act, especially seeing as how that's what I came out here to do. Maybe one will lead to the other, who knows. I just hate sitting here, watching my life fly by, as I waste it in a restaurant. There has to be more than this, there has to be. I don't mind hard work, but I do mind going nowhere. If I wanted to continue in this field that I'm currently in, I'd be set -- it's one of the best in the world. But none of that matters when you wither away, little by little, every day.

I'm working on writing samples for my application for grad school, studying for the GRE, and looking for financial aid opportunitites. The school I'm planning to apply for has an excellent assistantship program, but when I called to ask about it, the lady in charge of the department told me that I basically have no chance at getting an assistantship, because I'll be competeing with people from Yale and Stanford and the like. Suckola. I told that to a girl I work with, and she was furious -- how dare they say that to people? Just because you don't have the money for an Ivy League school doesn't mean you won't be good in your chosen field. So, here's hoping I can do enough work, and strong enough work, and score well enough on the GRE, to give myself a leg up on the Ivy league rich kids. That sounds so petty, but there you are.

And the fucking kitchen sink still backs up whenever I use it.

God dammit.

The manager will be in at nine, so I'll be calling him then. If I could afford to move, I'd be out of here.

Maybe I'll post something happy later, after I get home from my meeting with the GM. :)

A bit of a late start today, so I'll have to type quickly. Hah! Not with my hunt and peck typing "skills." :)

Speaking of which, I should really learn to be a better typist, as it would help me with my writing. Anybody know where/how I would go about learning how to touch-type?

I went through my backpack from college the other day. Surprisingly, there wasn't much in it in terms of usable material. The extra notebook paper will certainly come in handy, though. I thought I'd kept all of my writing that I did during my undergrad, and now that I need it, I don't have it. Mom has agreed to go through my room this weekend and see what she can find. I hope at least the work from my writing class turns up; I did some really good work that semester. But any of my work from that renaissance French literature class I took would be fine, too. :) I'll also be writing a lot of new material. I went through some old journals yesterday, and it's been two years to the day since I wrote in the newest one. That's fixed. :) If nothing else, they should yield some good material for essays.

I mentioned last week that I'm learning Persian, a co-worker is teaching me. I thought it may be helpful to have a book to go through on my own, as one phrase a day takes forever. I ordered a set online, complete with cassettes and cd-rom's. I'm planning on going through that a bit tonight.

Also, there are a couple of workshops down in Venice next week that I want to go to, so I'm going to try to make those. I just wish they were closer; Venice is 20 miles from my house, which translates to two hours in L.A. traffic. :P The workshops start at 8pm though, so maybe that's late enough that it'll only take me an hour. Those of you who've never been here to La La Land think I'm kidding. Unfortunately, I'm not. Ask my mom, she'll tell you. :) As my public service announcement for the day, if any of you decide to head out this way, get a good street map, like a Thomas' Guide, and get comfortable with surface streets. The freeways out here are uselsss because there's so much traffic; surface streets will get you almost anywhere more quickly.

I read an outstanding essay yesterday about a woman's trip to Italy; I'll find it and post a link when I get home from work. It made me wish I'd taken notes during my trip to Holland a few years ago. I guess I'll just have to try to go back sometime in the near future. But this time, I'm going when it's warm, not 15 degrees outside. :)

Thank you so much to all of you who have offered to write letters of recommendation and reference for my graduate school application; I appreciate it more than I can say. Just be prepared for those updated writing samples in your inbox in a few weeks. I've some time before the application is due, and I plan on taking full advantage of it.

Well, that's it for this early a.m. blog session, now I must get ready for work.

The decision has been made.

I'm going to apply for graduate school.

I came to this somewhat terrifying conclusion yesterday while on the phone with some wonderful people at USC. The program I'm planning on applying for is well respected, yet doesn't have 30 million applicants per semester, so my chances are better.

The first upcoming deadline is July 1st, which I sincerely doubt I'll make. I'll try, but I think it's too much too quickly, what with gathering writing samples and letters of recommendation and such. Especially when trying to track down professors.

Did I mention the GRE?

Oh, yes.

That which strikes terror into the heart of all prospective graduate students, myself included. I was chatting with my dear friend Marius yesterday, and we agreed that it's mind boggling how much you forget between your undergrad and grad years. This was preceded by a practice GRE test I took, or a fraction of one, just to see what it was like. Yikes!! I used to have an enviable vocabulary. Sadly, that seems to no longer be the case. Rest assured, I'll be spending copious amounts of time rebuilding said enviable vocabulary. (Speaking of which, this book is great: Rare Words and ways to master their meanings.)

One other portion to the GRE that terrifies myriad others: the dreaded math section. Pretend you're hearing the theme song from JAWS for a second or two. This section would be fine if more of us had need of upper level math. My father, who is an aeronautical engineer, would be one of those people, as would my cousin, who's a nuclear physicist. But me? Surely you jest! I barely made it through geometry. I did great in algebra until they started adding fractions and square roots. Screwed me up completely. There's just too much going on, no more nice, neat columns. So if you happen to hear a scream of absolute frustration, that would be me working through the math portion of my new study book, Cracking the GRE. If the internet suddenly goes more wonky than normal, that would be me working on the math portion at the GRE home site.

As if all that isn't frustrating enough, I have to pay them $130 US for the pain of taking their exam. The minimum score required by the University to which I'm applying is 1000.

Good God.

My mom told me to "hurry up and get busy" when I told her about the July 1st deadline. Perhaps it's been too long since she took the GRE. Heh. I'll be studying until August, because I honestly don't remember any math from college except that which I use on a daily basis. I have no need for anything else.

The other thing I have to work on is getting an assistantship through the department. Those are good for a full tuition waiver and an $1,800 per month stipend. For ten months, not the full 12, but you can't be too fussy when they give you that much. If I manage to land one of those, I'll be teaching undergraduate writing.

Could you stop the planet, please?

I'd like to get off.

What do you say about your friends?

Only a handful carry that title in my universe, and I see them far too seldom.

A few years ago, I managed to track down an old friend, one I've known since we were 11. We're both coming up on 31, so we've been around the proverbial block a few times. The last time I was home for Christmas, I stopped by his house with my mom and my sister to visit with my friend and his mother, and to meet his fiancee. All seemed well, though our visit was far too short. Isn't that always the way when visiting old friends? Too bad, that.

A couple of months later, and then again last week (which is what brings me to this post, as I've been mulling over it for a while) my mom reminded me of that visit, and asked me what my impression had been of my friend's fiance, now wife and mother of their adorable one year old. (how's that for a run-on? lol.)

I said she'd seemed nice, they seemed very happy, I was happy for them, but other than that, nothing specific. Why?

Then she tells me that she got a really strange vibe from her, very hostile towards me. That said, that one visit is the first and only time we've met, so we're not what you could even term acquaintances.

I told mom that I didn't get that vibe, but I do recall she didn't seem overly enthusiastic to have me there, or that I knew my friend's family, or that we laughed about shared childhood mishaps. Like our first "date", at 12, when my mom took us to the new mall, and his mom picked us up -- with, unbeknownst to her, his father's 357 magnum on the backseat. Oops. :) That's always a fun trip down memory lane.

Anyway. I finally got a cell phone manufactured within recent memory, and sent an email to my friends an family to tell them to scratch the old one.

No response.

I haven't received an email from him in months, which is odd, and I noticed last week that his MySpace page is gone. Hm. Could be he got bored with that admittedly juvenile, yet fun, waste of time. Could be he's just busy and doesn't have time for email any more.

Could be.

I hate to think I may have lost a friend I've had for over 20 years because his wife feels threatened by my existence.

I hope I'm never that insecure and jealous over someone who lives on the other side of the country.

I really hope to hear from my friend soon, and that I'm overreacting.

I hope.

Oy vey.

My kitchen sink backed up and overflowed everywhere this afternoon. What a total pain in the ass. The frustrating part is that it's got nothing to do with me -- my apartment is on the ground floor, so I get all the crap through my pipes. Even worse, this is the fourth time this has happened.

No, I'm not kidding; I wish I were.

At least today I was home, and able to get a hold of the building manager, and he found someone to snake the drain.

Again.

That gurgling sound out of nowhere is never good, certainly not when the resultant flood of dirty drain water soaks 3/4 of the carpeting in your house. Funny how they never want to replace said carpeting, isn't it.

And to think I spent two years wondering why I was getting sick all the time.

Duh.

If it happens again, screw it, I'm moving. I guess I should start saving up, because this time I won't be able to do it with just me and my car -- I'll have to hire movers. :P

Oh well.

Laundry time, more later.

Marius, Marius, Marius. Whatever am I going to do with you?

The cheerleader story isn't nearly as exciting as you're likely imagining it to be. For one, I was a baby -- around 5 or so. Had to be, because my sister and I were still at the Benjamin school. Good Lord, that was a long time ago!

Anyway. For some long since forgotten reason, I'd decided I wanted to be a cheerleader. I loved the pom poms and the cheers and the jumps, which I fancied myself quite good at. The reality was undoubtedly disappointing, but as I'm not the one who had to watch it, I wouldn't know.

We were at home getting ready to go to a game, and I had the sinking feeling that I was forgetting something. I couldn't imagine what that something could possibly be. We were all piled in the car when it hit me.

I'd forgotten my bloomers.

Oops.

I knew it, sitting in the car in the garage, knew it the entire way to school, felt it through the entire game, until it was my turn to cheer. I tried not to jump so high. . . to no avail. No matching yellow bloomers. Substitute white with little blue flowers.

My mom was mortified, though not nearly so much as I; to this day I wonder why I didn't say something while we were in the car at home.

One of life's little mysteries, I guess.

So, that's the cheerleader story.

If you behave yourself, tomorrow I'll tell you about the time I forged my mom's signature.

:D

I wish I had an hour to write like I did yesterday, but I only have 15 minutes as I have to be at work at 6am.

I'm still tossing around ideas for a book. I've wanted to write one since I was little, I just didn't know how to go about it. Now, I can't decide where to start, and my subject requires rather extensive research as I know absolutely nothing about a substantial part of it. It's a good excuse to learn something new, though.

Yesterday I mentioned I'm learning Persian. A co-worker from Iran is teaching me, and I'm sure having quite a laugh at my butchered pronounciations. That's all right though, he can laugh if he wants. I'll get it one of these days.
I decided it may behoove me to get a book on the language, so I looked up a few texts used for university courses. They're frustratingly difficult to find, though I did locate some at UCLA. I was all excited, thinking I'd found some great sources, when I checked Amazon and found they got not-so-great reviews from people who'd used them. Which doesn't mean I won't find them useful, but it would be nice to find a really good one, or more if need be. I'm open to suggestions from my myriad readers who've studied Persian, and therefore may be able to give me some guidance in the matter. :)

And that is my rather dull post for the day. However, since I'm off tomorrow, perhaps I'll be able to come up with something more substantial; something from my cheerleading days, which will be hysterical to those of you who know me.

I'm trying something new -- posting in the morning before work, as by the time I get home all I want to do is pretend to be a vegetable. That said, it's 4.30 am, and here I am, typing away.

I've finally found my brain and started keeping a notebook with me. I've filled four pages with ideas and such; some may find their way into this blog, some may be saved for a future article, some may be saved for the book I'm considering. We shall see. At any rate, it should mean posts more often than once a month, which will be a good thing.

I moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career as an actress. Perhaps it was sheer folly, but you never know until you try. Needless to say, in the whole "Hollywood" scheme of things, I'm on no one's radar, have recieved many an offer of extra work, and am rather fed up with the whole thing. Extra work, I've done it -- but if you do too much of it you get stuck in it, as people here in La La Land don't like to use their brains, and will not see you as anything but an extra. For those of you unacquainted with Hollywood jargon, an extra is the person in the background whom you see, but don't hear. In years past, those were termed "bit parts" and could, at some point, lead to speaking roles and such. No longer is this the case, and with over 100,000 people in Los Angeles with the same dream, getting lost in the shuffle is more often the order of the day than not. No, I am not about to make myself look like an ass solely for the purpose of getting attention -- I don't need it quite that badly, thanks.

In addition, have you seen the "women" on TV lately? They look about 16, their bodies starved and exercised down to skin and bone. Not for me, thanks; I went through my starvation phase in college. Thankfully I found my senses and realized how idiotic it was to starve myself so that some idiot would think I was pretty and worthy of a job. Fuck that.

I suppose this was a rather roundabout way of saying I'm over it. The institutionalized insecurity (thank you, Viggo Mortensen, for that phrase), the insanity of the expectation of appearing to be all of 12 years old, constantly being asked to take your clothes off, having to pay casting directors if you want an audition -- which has Billy DaMota in absolute fits. Look him up on MySpace, he posted his interview with 20/20 a while back.

The most frustrating part, at least from my perspective, is that it isn't personal. On one hand, that makes it easier to take the constant rejection. Your "look" just isn't what they're looking for, your work has nothing to do with it. On the other hand, if it were personal, you could take a class, get new headshots, do a new play, do something to improve your skills that would help you succeed. But none of that matters. It doesn't matter how good you are, it doesn't matter how hard you work. It's a constant reiteration that what you are isn't good enough. Unless, of course, you happen to come from a famous Hollywood family, and someone in said family will give you a job, or call directors for you. It will never be said that nepotism isn't alive and well in this town -- sometimes I think that's the only way to succeed out here.

Anyway, I'm over it. If acting happens to work out for me, great -- but I'm not going to be spending every waking moment on it any more. I'd prefer to concentrate on something I have a chance at success doing. Ergo, writing.

This blog is an experiment of sorts, to help me hone skills gone rusty with years of disuse, and to get back into the habit of writing every day. If it goes reasonably well, I'll be applying for graduate school next fall, which should be interesting. I should probably send an email to my writing prof from college, and see if he remembers me and my work well enough to write a letter of recommendation. One more item on the "To Do" list.

Oh, and I'm learning Persian. :) Khoda hafez!