benefits of insomnia

It's the age-old question: What's the world coming to??

There have been several nights where I've been welcomed by the sound of police sirens and helicopters hovering above my apartment complex.  I've heard cops chasing (what I could only imagine would be) criminals.  Sound bytes of walkie talkies informing the whereabouts of the 'subject',  The intense pitter-patter of a twenty something's feet, yelling "OH SHIT!".

And I live in Santa Monica... a beach side suburb of Los Angeles, I can only imagine what it's like in the heart of the city.

I was up the other night at about 2am. I was Watching a little DVR'd (isn't that an adjective nowadays?) television.  And heard scurrying  outside, I hear a car start up in the parking garage, and a man's frantic voice muffled in attempt to keep quiet. I pause my TV, flick off the lights, and find myself peeping out of my curtains like Tom himself.  Wondering if it was a car-jacking or robbery.  The ruckus was reminiscent of the law enforced circus acts on previous late night occasions. I couldn't really see much, I run to my door, double check the locks, and assume my position back at the windowsill.

After looking around, I find an SUV stalled in the parking garage, it was the source of where everything was coming from. A man, running around like a headless chicken, as my eyes focused into the passenger seat, I notice a woman's ripe and protruding belly. I was brought not quite to tears, but more so a giant frog in my throat.  It wasn't a thief, nor a drug dealer. The commotion was one of the most beautiful things life has to offer.  There I sat, some random, nosy, neighbor lady witnessing such an intimate moment for that family.

I was truly taken aback.

What kind of person am I? Am I THAT person? Who automatically jumps to conclusions? I've always secretly prided myself on giving others the benefit of the doubt. But that's with conscious thought.  My instinct, however, does not.  In my 22 years, I've formed a callous. The prepared for the worst, hope for the best type of thing.  I never in my frazzled mind would have thought of the "glass half full" side of things in that scenario at 2am in a parking garage.

Isn't it interesting that sometimes we think we know who we are?  When its just a fantasized idea of who we aspire to be.  Aspirations of a better you or I, is fantastic, don't get me wrong. You can't get anywhere without striving for it.  It just made me sit back and evaluate who and how I really am. I obviously  know who and how I WANT to be.  I want to love unconditionally, benefit from dark struggles, and whole heartily live to my full potential.  I don't want to be quick to judge, I don't want to be taken advantage of, or be swindled into something that ISN'T me.


That night accumulated another handful of sleepless hours. I had butterflies. I was sorrowful... I had sparked a long long train of thought for myself.  It made me think of life, death, trials, and overcoming them.  I thought of a thief feeling the chillingly icy handcuffs suffocate his wrists for the first time, and mother introduced to the newborn she had spent every moment with for the last nine months.  
What were they thinking at the moment, how did they get there?  

It's things like that that make life beautiful.

Sooner or later I will defeat my faults and attain a few of my goals.  
It's all just one giant learning process.
and I find myself somewhere in the midst of it all, overwhelmed with excitement, stomach in knots and I would imagine not at all prepared.

untitled

I was going to start a potential insightful ramble. But it took me and hour to log onto this account. I've had the hardest time with this thing. Anyway, now my ramble would just turn into a rant. So I'm off to bed.

Mix

I wrote this a couple weeks ago while cruising the 'net. I posted it on my myspace and decided to post it here now as well

"Mix"

I sit here eating a delicious blend of trail mix from Trader Joes. I try my hardest not to only eat the pseudo m&m's. because I basically did that on my last bag, and I ended up having a bag full of peanuts, which are not my favorite, but I didn't want to waste them and throw them away.

I then, of course, had to analyze and make my time and effort sifting through my bag of trail mix symbolic and relevant... so here it goes

A bag of trail mix is like a relationship... You can't ignore the parts that suck because, in the end, you're going to have to deal with them. So eat the bland peanut and chase it with the tasty chocolate. Tell your man or lady friend that you don't dig the way they don't call you back, or their lack of returning to toilet seat to it's proper position... because eventually, you get past all of the sweet stuff, and if you didn't deal with the not so fabulous things, things could end up in the can.

I know I know, I'm pretty much the next big thing as far as pilosophy and guidance goes, so you can thank me however you please. I'll be setting up a paypal account shortly so you can help me pay my rent while I help you save your marriage.

Train of Thought

I slept in until 3:30pm today
At 12:30 I took a quick break for some food, but shortly headed back for the sack.
In the midst of my slumber I supposedly muttered to Andrew that "I'm not gunna lie, this feels really good" And I wasn't lying, it felt really, really good. You see, this past week I have had THE WORST time falling asleep, even with medical assistance from my friends at Lunesta inc. I've dealt with insomnia for a long time now, but have mosty had things under wraps. I've got a lot of things on my mind I guess. blasts from the pasts, but not neccessarily a blast to think about. The kind of nostaligia that's not the best to ponder.
I'm going on 6 years of treading water in a deep deep body of water. Luckily lately I've managed to keep my head above the surface and actually tighten and tone as i do so :) But there have been times where my mind and body give up, and I hold my breath as I sink. It's been a while since Ive felt close to drowning, but it's a constant workout for me as a whole. I'm fine. So no one rush to call the lifeguard, I've become very strong doing so. Treading water for six years? Can you imagine the gluteous maximas I've got? My bulging biceps? That's the beauty of a struggle. How strong it can make you as time passes. It shapes and forms you into who you are and who you will be.

Crash Course

A car accident and a parking ticket in less than 24 hours?! Wow. I'm on a roll. I really do enjoy a 40 something year old lady lecturing me about how expensive her BMW is. I tell her it's not everyday you come across a Forest Green '99 Jetta with Oregon plates. But Obviously she was too busy talking to me as though I was two years old.
"What were you doing?!" she glances down at the Oregon plates "Do you even LIVE HERE?!"

" I was driving, I guess I'm not used to you California drivers and LA Traffic." " I just moved here" ( I think to myself "Yes, a little Oregon country girl"; I'm going to play that card.

I feel belittled as the minutes go by and questions are asked. "Do you have your insurance? What is your license number? Do you workout?" Ok, maybe not that last question. But the answer is sometimes, and if so; 30 minutes of cardio. And if only the woman would magically turn into a 30 year old man, I could bend over and check out the dent-age I did to the bumper. Let him check out the junk in MY trunk and let me head of into the sunset on smog and smoke. Instead she stares at me in my 5 inch heels towering over her with a dumbstruck look on my face. "I've never really been in this situation before so I don't really know exactly what to do" I am annoyed of myself, I keep telling myself "Stupid.Stupid. Stupid." Surprisingly my height of a WNBA player, for that matter just an NBA Player, doesn't scare her or make her skip a beat. She's like a vicious little chiwauwa and I'm the cowardly great dane.

Of course, I don't have my license. I get a flash back of it sitting close to my computer, next to the pile of receipts, half way hidden under a 3/4 empty bag of honey roasted peanuts. DAMN.

" You DON'T have your LICENSE!?" exclaimed Mia (yes, thats her name I learned that later) good lord lady, did I stutter? I actually said that I do have it and just don't feel like pulling it out of my sleeve.

I give her my phone number and my insurance information because I feel like a guilty criminal.
Then... 10 minutes later- after I tried Calling Andrew five hundred times but failed every-time due to ZERO reception in the middle of Los Angeles.- my time comes:
"well can I have your phone number?!" she asks shining her blinged out wedding finger in my face holding her important pad of paper and pen.
I quickly jump to respond " I'm pretty sure I just gave it to you" I draw my index finger across her documentation "31086679**" "right there" ( written without any parenthesis or -'s. She eventually gives up on me and my unpreparedness after I hand over every important-looking piece of paper in my car.

I look busy digging in my car as she pulls away.

I head off to my casting which randomly is in a residential area at this fancy house. I walk back timidly hoping I wasn't trespassing some random person's property. I plop down in a chair and hand over my portfolio
"She looks way to young" the lady says to the man with lack of respect- I mean volume control- in her voice. "How old are you?"
"twenty two, just turned" I say quite viciously. You see for some odd reason the going age I seem to look is 16. That is the average age people think I am.

"REALLY? twenty two?" yes.
"Ok, we might as well let her try them on" she says to the man " But we only have ONE sample size and just two pairs of pants that are just that one size, so if you don't fit them then; that's that."
"OK!" I say in my pseudo chipper tone.

I take back the first pair. I am completely bloated. It's day two of the dreaded lady time of the month.
I slip in the first leg, then the second.... Booom-Bow-Surpiriiiseee...like a glove. they fit perfectly. For a white girl I've got enough junk back there to fill up a pair of jeans.

Pleasantly surprised, they take me over and take some photos, then the lady asks me to try the second pair. Same size. but "they fit a little differently".

I take back pair number two. slip into them quite comfortably, they are higher waisted, they're better suited for muffin-top control which is more of an issue this week for me.

They snap some more shots and I go on my merry way, I don't think I got the job but I think the little 16 year old showed them that I may have a young face, but my booty is definitely rotund.


The drive home wasn't pleasant, you see Andrew need the car at 12:30, which would have been no problem if I hadn't run into Mrs. BMW, But my phone STILL wasn't working. That would be like going a day without seeing a fake pair of pouty lips or Ta-ta's. It's like; am I NOT in LA? Where people text message on one phone while talking on the other. Because they're that important they need two phones. It's not like I was in some farm town, which would be understanding as to why there was no reception. But in the middle of Los Angeles?! Not comprehending.

I try and try and try to get a hold of Andrew, no cigar. Finally at 1:05 as I Pull into the Parking lot of his work, I get through to his cell. finally, as I'm walking up to his cubicle he picks up his phone. "Hey are you at work?" I ask " No I'm at lunch I've been trying to reach you!"
"Sorry, I got in a car accident so I was really delayed" " Oh, it's Ok, I'm eating lunch now though, I wish you would've let me know that you weren't going to have the car ready for me though."

As I stand by his cubicle with sweat dripping down my back and most likely steam shooting out of my ears; " OH, I'M FINE, THANKS FOR ASKING!" I hang up.

It's one of those days of the month, you just want to slip some chocolate under my door and not say a word. Come to find out Andrew supposedly didn't hear that I had gotten in an accident, but I'm still skeptical. I needed a little sympathy and I didn't get it when I wanted it.



I'm off to do a price check on bumpers made by BMW.

I found this blog I had written almost two years ago, I was sort of longing to move on with life, somewhat emotionally weak. Now I look back, and completely apprecaite that I had written this. I may not have completely written how I was feeling, but reading this puts me back there and feel everything. Oh, and it makes me miss Hawaii sooooo much.




October 22, 2005 - Saturday


Life is pretty
Current mood: mellow

Through my hour long drive home today I drive past the beautiful mountains near Kualoa Ranch and see a Japanese tourist sitting on the little fence with the signature peace sign; holding up her index and middle finger, with a big smile on her face. Her loved one standing by the rental car capturing such a sight in a click of a button. Later down the road I saw a man and his two little boys standing thigh- deep in the ocean side by side, fishing pole in hand, all very focused. The boys both staring at their father watching his every move... Near Hauula there is a young boy in his dirty red football uniform walking along side the road, I think he was singing, either that or having an intense discussion with him self about the game he just executed. Daily, I see the old men and women who live by the beach and live in their car, so skinny that if the wind blew any harder I'd worry that they might break, Usually, they've got a bottle wrapped in brown paper in one fist and/or a cigarette in the other, most are so tan and leathery, you can see they've lived a life of adventure. You know they've got amazing stories to tell...

I don't really know what I am writing about. It just made me think about what my sister-in-law once said. She said that someone had once told her that when you die; you see your life as pictures... Like a roll of film. And when you look back at your life, the most memorable times have definitely influenced you one way or another. I don't know if I will ever get to speak with these people I see on the side of the roads daily. But they definitely have been a part of my life.

When I am older and think back about the days I lived in Hawaii.. I'll remember the 50 something- year- old woman living in her red car who usually is having her hearty breakfast (Milwaukee’s Best) with trinkets, clothing, and keepsakes scrunched into the back of the car. How on a day when I was feeling down for one reason or another, I'd drive past her, enjoying her beautiful morning... And I was buried in self-pity because of one reason or another. That woman inspired me to look at what I have in life and be grateful of it. Not to wish for what it could have been or could be. To be thankful for what I have now. Living in Paradise that attracts people from all over the world, snapping photographs of the breathtaking ocean, mountains, trees and plants. Capturing the memories of the little time they had on the island. The father and his boys, out enjoying nature, getting out of the house...rather than sitting in glued to the remote controls of the latest video game... The little boy in his football Jersey, Daydreaming possibly about his plans as a future NFL player, reminding myself of my younger days and the things I dreamt up....

Anyway. I guess I'm sort of rambling. But today I realized that I need to stop complaining about how I want to leave Hawaii and such. It's actually much easier to live in the present rather than dwell on the past or or the longing until this happens or until we move there. Because Day by day I live my life and it's me who chooses to live in the present or to sit around and wait for the future. Because who knows if I'll have a tomorrow? And I will have just spent my last days waiting for the days I wouldn't even ever posses...


I know this may be incredibly repetitious and cliché at times. But I guess there are reasons some things are cliché ...right?

Los Angeles: Hell's next door neighbor

The last few days here in Los Angeles have been dreadfully HOT.
Maybe its because summer is extra long here in California, it could possibly be because our apartment is on the second floor.... But my thoughts keep wandering towards one question; Is Los Angeles Hell's next door neighbor? If you think of Hell as a sport, a Varsity sport, I would say Hollywood might just be the Junior Varsity.

Last night was spent out and about in Hollywood, to see a concert of a friend of a friend, and hop from hip to hipper scences.
One of my favorite hobbies is to people watch, and I practically won the lottery of people watching by moving here. But in Hollywood, after a while people watching can make one feel the same as the might feel after watching all 195 minutes of Schindler's List. Depressed, Sympathetic, Empathetic, and guilty.

As we cruised sunset Boulevard in our 1999 Jetta full of rare species (Young married couples in their twenties) we watched the passerby's. Between Celebrity and the homeless, there is such a wide variation. Like the (estimated) 20 year old girl next to us at the stop light; She was in her black Acura approximately mid nineties model. I know we all have our little things we do while waiting at a stop light; I like to change the song on my iPod and pop in a new piece of gum, my husband likes to pick his nose, and some light up a new cigarette. This girl had her left palm facing upwards and her other hand was holding a little straw, which she stuck in her nose and sniffed out of her full-of-potential hand. She was all alone.

We got out of our car walked past the "Huster" store (The REI for strippers and Go-Go dancers) looked n the window to see T shirts with skulls and crosses on them, I'm sure Jesus would be so proud. Bums, crack pipes, Corvettes, prostitues, Celebrites, the whole nine yards, if it's out there it's in Hollywood; The land of opportunity.

I'm not completely knocking my new residency. The people and their stories and struggles are beautiful. You meet a 70 year old woman who remembers hollywood back when we all wish we were here, The 30 year old who's been sober for 5 years, the tweny year old who doesn't know what she wants in life and is perfectly happy with her current adventure to find it. You see people constantly chasing their dreams and getting there. I enjoy going to castings and getting shut down, it makes me appreciate what I do book when I get it. Meeting a new crop of people everytime you have a photoshoot, learning where they come from and how they got here. I love it. I just am glad that I arrived here with someone to hold on to. That if I get a little lost they're here to help... If I run out of gas. They'll drive 15 miles and be there in 2 hours due to Los Angeles traffic delays. If I'm not feeling confident, I have a little coach to give me a pep talk, slap my ass and send me on my way. I know that If I came out here as an 18 year old I could have been that girl, alone, sniffing away my confusion, innocense and troubles.

So Los Angeles, is it really such a bad place? Is it really the next best thing to Helll? Probably not. It's most likely El Nino or some crazy global warming issue. But just being that during this heat wave, the corrupt city showcases it's hookers, bums, and druggies, it's just can make you wonder? As far as the Hustler store, that's just straight up ugly and tacky merchandise, I could care less if that business kills over, but for the homeless, the forlorn masses, and the addicts: We've all been down and low in one way or another, just maybe not on Hollywood or Sunset boulevard. So just remember that next time you take a stroll in La La Land.

I could go for a popsicle and a bathtub full of ice.