| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on August 07, 2007 @ 5:10 am
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( Everybody has a dating profile, it seems. Although I think I did this before and was something different. Does that make me an enigma? )
First things first, happy birthday Abbie. I hope you had a really gorgeous day, and all of the presents you could handle. Remember, chocolate eaten on your birthday actually equates to minus calories, and is of course, very very good for you.
So nearly two weeks ago I remembered that I had one of these, and then promptly forgot again. My days have descended into the kind of work frenzy that I'm very very good at but that leave me sub-human. My conversational skills are decidedly out of practice, given that the last time I remember having a non-work conversation was three days ago when I ordered Chinese food for me.
So instead of me making a post that's all about me, tell me about you. What's new? What's going on? What's relevant? For those of you who prefer the personal touch, tell me over at SimplySatsi.
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on July 24, 2007 @ 4:19 am
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"You have a new house that we haven't seen, and a birthday I wouldn't miss. So we'll be over."
She made it sound like she was coming around from across the street, or around the block, or from the next city. What she meant was that she and Rhiannon would be getting in a plane and arriving at my house. Which found me at the airport on Monday morning to see two of my favorite people in the entire world. Rhiannon is eight, now, and her eyes have the same flashing fire that Lara's have.
The week passed in a blur, really - the joy of working on the production side of things, and caring about the paperwork is getting to work from home. So I sat and filled out my papers, whilst Rhiannon practiced her dancing, and Lara filled me in on daily events. We ate out, watched films, painted rooms, and told stories - of who we were, and how we are, and where we think we're going to.
Friday, however, turned out to be the most beautiful day. After a half-day at work, I skipped out so that Lara, Rhi and I could go have pizza, and icecream and then we went home to dress up. You'd think that hanging out with actors would be enough for me, but apparently I like to become things. So two women and an eight year old walked into my house, and an hour later, two witches and a little witch walked out, complete with hats and cloaks. Down we went to "Flourish and Blott's" as Waterstone's had renamed itself. I've always managed to be elsewhere when a book has been released, so the music was a surprise. We got our goodie bags, our balloon wands and swords, and danced in the line whilst we waited for midnight to roll around.
I'll admit, I'm a complete sucker for things with a magical twist to them, and whilst my biological clock has an erratic tic at best, it was really awesome just to get to pretend that I was both a kid and a parent all at the same time. We headed home, and each of us tucked into the books for a little while until the grownups forced the little one to bed so that we could - still robed up - drink wine and I made some birthday wishes that we kissed off to the sky and then collapsed back into bed.
It's Monday now, and I've been soaked by the rain, and enjoyed my time as an actual thirty-something. Oh, and for those of you who haven't finished the book, hurry up! I need someone to exclamation mark at.
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on July 14, 2007 @ 10:33 am
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I woke up in the middle of the night, and just lay in bed listening to the rain against my window.
The room is still too big for me, the bed isn't quite right, and lying there I know that the room next door is devastated - huge splashes of color, acting as indicators of how they'll look when dry. None of that mattered, though, and I moved to open the curtains so that I could see the moonlight a little brighter. I'm not sure how I managed to avoid having those huge streetlights outside my bedroom, but I'm grateful for the fact that I have.
I didn't need to see the sky, it wasn't that kind of feeling, and instead I relished curling down under a thick comforter and letting myself nestle a little deeper. In a few hours I knew I'd have to be awake again, and push myself up out of this blissful comfort into a suit, tie my hair into a sensible chignon and be ready to once again take notes. Right now, though, outside might as well be a thousand miles away - in here is just me, my bed, myself, my flannel pyjamas and I. Life has taken a turn down a sweet path, and after everything it's a relief to realize that I wouldn't be anywhere else for all the money in the world. I wondered, for a while, if I'd ever make it back here or if I'd know where here was when I got it - not this bed, this bed never factored in any of my plans, but then very little of where I am right now is where I saw myself even six months ago.
I'll never be the American who naturalizes totally - I don't want to be English, I never have. I think I've had too much confusion in my life where nationalities are confused, and I understand it's an incredibly unfashionable view, but I'm proud to be an American. That doesn't mean that I agree in what my government is doing, but I happen to think that George W. Bush has very little to do with what I perceive to be American. So I don't plan on taking on a Madonna "Mockney" accent, or to pretend that I don't know where I'm from, but it does mean I'm going to sit here in this rainy country and relish the fact that I'm allowed to be here. For that, I'll always be grateful to the Englishman I fell in love with, and for the fact that he knew how to share his love of a place.
That being said, I don't know so very much of England, which is why the thought of exploring has excited me. I want to see Bronte country, and Stonehenge, and the Lake District, and Hadrian's Wall, and all of these things that seem so very far away and surreal to me, nothing more than photographs in guide books or locations associated with celebrities. I'd like to go to Ireland too, and see Belfast and the Giant's Causeway, and Dublin, and Cork, and Galway Bay, and see all of those places that my dad has a song for. Does anyone have any recommendations? Where are your favorite places?
All of these thoughts, and thousands of more - snippets of conversations, facial expressions, eye colors and the tilt of a head as you make contact, problems, things to remember all ran through my head. And then I did like all right-thinking people should do. I plumped up the pillows, curled up a little more tightly, and went back to sleep - perhaps the only person in London glad to hear the sound of the rain.
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Posted on July 11, 2007 @ 2:49 pm
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I can't remember a point where I've been more relaxed than I feel right now.
Life has taken on a kind of peace and the kind of control that I love, whilst at the same time having very little in it to actually control. July 4th went by in a blur of laughter and magic tricks and far too much food. In all seriousness, I don't think I'm going to fit into any of my clothes when I get home, and you'll be pleased to know that I've moved one step closer to my ultimate dream - becoming Jabba.
I read this book whilst I was here - I like to do that. Knowing my attention span, if I haven't finished a book in a week then I never will, so I thought I would bring this with me and see how it went. It's called Yes Man by Danny Wallace and the basic premise is that whatever he was asked, however it was phrased, he had to answer yes. This could be from something as simple as "Would you like to buy me a drink?" to "Will you carry this package on board the plane for me?" In the months that followed, he won £25,000. He met buddhist monks, alien obsessives and the world’s only hypnotic dog. He became a minister, an inventor, a minor television personality, andan accidental peace activist. He ended up in Amsterdam, and Singapore, and a small mining town in South Wales. He lost £25,000.
I'd think of myself as a positive person, for the most part - I don't like to dwell too much on obstacles or things that I can't do, instead I'd ratehr take a pro-active look at what I'm doing. That being said, in the face of such unquenchable yes-ness, how positive can anyone seem? I don't want to do that, I don't want to say yes to things entirely unequivocally, but I think maybe I could do with saying yes a lot more. Stepping outside of my comfort zones and allowing myself to realize that I don't have to be in charge of everything all of the time. Not everyone has an ulterior motive, sometimes they're just being nice, and sometimes they're not just being nice but they might actually like you, so why not give them a chance to get to know you? They also, shudder to think, might be having the exact same reservations that you are, and it might even possibly be that you could hold out your hand and let them take it, guide their steps.
I wonder how I fall into this mentality? Is it some messed up female stereotype, I wonder? Maybe I'm a product of my upbringing, or maybe it's just a bad habit that I picked up, or maybe somewhere along the line I just forgot how to not do it. I don't think I made those assumptions when I was part of us, so maybe in the aftermath it's something that I picked up. Anyway, it's something I'm getting out of - I don't mean I'm going to become this obnoxious loud-mouthed American (I hope not anyway!!!) but to be a little braver, a little more ready to be the steady capable one again, who can help other people rather than constantly needing to be carried.
I fly back to London tomorrow - with one thing and another, flights got gratefully pushed back and I ended up driving my way around the familiar terrain here, drinking a lot of coffee and taking big bags of cookies to a beautiful house in the countryside. I'm looking forwards to it - there's a tentative plan to explore England more, too, which would be nice as it's not something that I've done very much of.
This update was mainly brought to you by Daniel's nagging.
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on June 30, 2007 @ 4:34 am
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If anything else, being in Africa has given me so much time to sort out things that I didn't even know needed to be sorted out. The other day, Larry and I were talking about just how beautiful life can be, especially when instead of all of those good things: new home, new job, new life, aren't around the corner at all, but are facing you head on. It can be a little bit bizarre too, as suddenly you're not hanging around waiting for anything, but instead you're grabbing it with both hands.
Ten years it's taken me to get here. Ten years since I left university and struck out by myself into the world. I didn't though, really: I neither left university, nor struck out alone. Instead I jumped into the fast flowing river after Greg, and had an out of body experience where I watched us both drown. Before him, I had dated some - trips to the movies or for burgers and fries with boys in high school, I had a date for my prom, but I was so focussed on my studies that I forgot all of that side: Between track team and keeping my GPO up, boys didn't massively feature in my plans. I wouldn't say I was averse to the idea, but I could never really translate the equation whereby a boy was a friend and then he became a boyfriend. That streak continued all through college, until about half-way through my second year, Greg asked me out. Greg was as painfully quiet as I was, and that was very much appreciated - we had a couple of classes together, and in the face of our more gregarious classmates he was a welcome addition. He was witty, and dry in a way that I appreciated, and unlike a lot of guys he didn't think that throwing money around was necessarily the way to go.
On our first date, we went out for coffee in the dining hall. We talked a little bit, awkwardly, like you do when you don't know someone but you think you might want to better. I remember spending more time looking in the styrofoam cup than at him, and talking to his hands as he nursed his own coffee. As far as first dates go it was as uninspired and awkward as they get, with little laughter except nervous. The second and third dates went by in a similar manner, and even back then I remember asking myself Why? Except there weren't any massively compelling reasons not to, and he didn't interfere in the way of my studies, and he was a kind kind man. It wasn't until the fifth date that he tried to kiss me, and a part of me wonders if maybe that was out of looking for something to do - he wasn't boring, but together there was no spark. I kind of thought I must have been missing something, but by the tenth date we were sleeping together and he seemed perfectly happy. I've heard of sex that can move the earth, and sex that can blow your mind, and sex that can change your life, and sex that's like watching paint dry. One night, I think I actually did watch paint dry, and in true twenty something fashion I decided that it was my fault, I must have been built wrong or wired wrong because he'd had girlfriends before - beautiful girls, smart girls, and he was enjoying it so if I worked it out, maybe I could enjoy it too. We just needed that spark that I'd heard so much about, but didn't really believe in any more. Some people have that throw-you-down-have-you-here passion about them. Greg was not so much a thrower as a placer, and not so much a have-you as a lie-on-you kind of guy. I gave up the thoughts of
Until Sébastien.
When I met Sébastien, it was all fire and passion. I was juggling coffee-books-doorhandle and he was coming through the other side, just in time to upset my carefully constructed balance. He touched my hand, and I jumped a mile, but in my infinite wisdom put it down to static electricity. He was Gallic, and beautiful, and he took me to see a whole new world of black and white films. In the dark, our hands would brush slightly, and that feeling would be enough to keep me going for the next three dates with Greg. Even then I didn't piece anything together as wrong - when you cheat on someone, you kiss someone else, or you touch someone else, or you fuck someone else. I wasn't doing any of that; instead it was childlike and innocent, and I couldn't stop the smile on my face when I knew I was going to be around him. In a very weird way, I learned how to be a woman in seeing myself through his eyes - suddenly it mattered to me how my hair was, what I was wearing, how I carried myself and I realised that actually I really liked those things: Not because of him, although he inspired the change, but because I liked to feel sexy and girly and in charge of myself.
At the end of the year, Sébastien went back to France. Without us ever having kissed, or touched, or done anything more physically intimate than share an umbrella together, he knew that if he'd asked me to go with him, I would have gone. In fact, I'd probably be there now with a gaggle of rosy cheeked brown eyed babies and no idea what to do with them. He didn't ask me, though, because that sort of thing only really happens in the kind of movies with the black and white rain. We promised we'd write, and to this day we still do.
To say that Greg noticed a difference would, you might think, go without saying but to this day he denies seeing anything there. He thought I was as happy as I always was, which really says a lot about the state of our relationship. We graduated and I got a job with 2929 and he found work in an architect's office. Life was normal, and fine, and average as life can invariably be. Through a mixture of luck and pure gall I managed to claw my way up the inside of 2929 until finally they were offering me the chance of a lifetime - to check out a location, and provided that I could get Kris on board, the job was mine. I took that break as the chance to take a break with Greg, and work out what I was doing. Halfway through my trip I got the type of telephone call that I'd learn to dread - the one where someone calls you and tells you it's over, and they have closure, only to drunkenly change their mind thirty minutes later. I heard when he was fucking other people, when he wasn't, when they were in the other room and in mind-numbing details all of the ways in which it was my fault. He dogged me, even from across the ocean.
The phone calls set the trend for the next six months or so - even just into my relationship with Danny, I'd be woken up by those telephone calls and those horrible, lingering messages. The nice boy turned out to have another side, but instead of the fire of delighted passion it was something darker and a lot more sinister. It's taken me ten years - ten years of being that girl, and now I'm not any more, I'm this one. I have my home, my family, my friends, my new house, and the final icing on the cake is that I've been given a production role in the next Bond film. Which, whilst I'm going to take a fair amount of shit for, is one of the biggest dreams that I'll ever get to realise. The doors that will be opened from this are breathtaking, and it's a chance for me to take my next steps.
So I can't stop the smile, and whilst the past wasn't quite so shining, the future's never seemed more golden and I've never been more grateful.
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on June 27, 2007 @ 7:10 am
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( My Past - Danny Style )
What bearing does the past have on now?
We were talking about it over dinner, over the excitement and the beauties of love. I want that again, I want those arms to wrap around and those hands to soothe and excite again. Not his hands, no, but I think I'm finally ready to put all of the rest of it behind me. Everybody has their issues, and I'd never pretend that I have all of mine worked out - maybe that's why I enjoy working with dark films the most, as the chance for me to explore and develop some kind of closure.
I don't think I believe in getting over love. Every love, and every lover I've had has been given something of me, but only as much as was already theirs to begin with and finally now I feel like I'm in that position again. I've learned, learned what is important to me and what I can do. Someone once told me that you get three great loves of your life, and I don't know that I necessarily believe that, but I certainly believe in more than one. And if not, at least I'll know I had a great one.
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on June 25, 2007 @ 8:28 pm
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Africa is as beautiful as I wanted it to be.
We're staying in the Sheraton in Addis Abeba [that's the official spelling right there], which is nestled up in the mountains. I suppose I'll always be childlike enough that trips away begin the minute I leave my house or wherever I'm staying, properly begin when I'm on the plane, and then by the time I've made it to the hotel I am already taking photographs of just about everything I can see. I like to think of it as my Japanese side coming out: You say holiday, we say Nikon! In this case, the fact that the in-flight movies was James Bond was only marred slightly by the tight hold that the brave boy had on my hand, and his bitching at remembered slights from the filming process.
By the time we landed, the sunset had happened - it's close enough to the equator that the sunset happens almost instantly. As we made our way up to the mountains, I was doing my best to take in everything. The hotel is stunning - one of those settings that are so grand and so beautiful and so regal that you feel instantly inferior, but also very well looked after.
( See? )
Last night was business for Danny, which meant talking to some producers about how they're finding the project, and wearing a nice dress, and remembering my table manners. Leaving Himself down in the bar, I headed back up to call home and a number of other places to let everyone know that I was thus far safe and undevoured by any lions, which of course was everyone's main concern.
What I got was a terse telephone conversation with my mom, translated by my dad as "When are you coming home again?" Every year my parents like to go to Nantucket to see in Independence Day. My dad takes it fairly seriously, so they rent a place and we all go there. It's a chance for family to be family - my brother brings his wife, and last year Danny and I went out together. This year I hadn't even thought about the date, but the call has been made and my presence is expected. So instead of flying straight back to London, it's going to be amazing. The barbeque at Martha's Vineyard, the Hyannis boat parade, and then the fireworks on Jetties Beach. Any protestations about practicalities I might have had were silenced when my dad told me he had the flight already booked, and instead of the usual niggle that would give me - I don't like anyone assuming anything without talking it over with me first, I could feel myself filling up with grateful tears. We traveled around so much when I was little that home really is about family, and the thought of being with them makes everything seem a little brighter and sunnier.
Of course, sun isn't a problem right now! It's about 106 degrees, and the city awaits. It's time to go exploring!
( The morning city. )
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on June 21, 2007 @ 5:14 pm
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You know, I didn't write it, but the sentiment is very true. Thank the Lord for cheeky iPods, otherwise we'd never have anyone to flirt with.
In other news, thanks to the Italian coffee shop around my house I intend on coming back from Africa and doing nothing but drinking cappuccini and eating pastries. Goodbye, waistline, hello baggy dresses!
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Posted on June 19, 2007 @ 3:12 pm
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So in spite of everything, I did the typically girlish thing - on looking at the properties with My Bond, I decided I didn't want either of them. It just kept playing in my head that this was going to be somewhere that I'd be living in for a long time, and that I could so easily make the wrong decision - it's not that any place in London is a bad investment at the moment, but I'm so compulsive that I know it'd get to the point where I hated the place because it was the wrong color, or the kitchen was the wrong shape.
Annoyed at my own decision, I was quiet in the car as I tried to work out what I was going to do. I know that Danny was worried about my quiet, so when we drove past the house on our way back through Belsize Park, he pulled in.
"We're going to look at it. Because there are a lot of houses around here, and you never know what you're going to find!"
The outside of the building is quaint, and so very London. It was the bookshelves that I loved the most, which I get is a little bit geeky, but I have so many books and I love to have them all around me. The light helped, and when we went out to the garden, I could see how it would be to have a little barbeque with drinks on the patio. Finally, the master bedroom sealed the deal, and I knew it. I was in love.
So now that's it, all bar the formalities. The surveyor is going around to make sure that the place is architecturally sound, and that I'm not going to die from asbestos poisoning or anything else so delicious. Which means I have a little bit of time, so in spite of the fact that I'm back at work today, I'm going to have a holiday of sorts.
Do any of you think when a friend asks you something?
I don't. I'm simple like that, and when he asked if I had some free time for him, of course I said yes. Which is how I'm going to find myself in Africa next week: Ethiopia, I believe, and then maybe back to Cape Town. It's ridiculous how used to that I am, and how ready I am to just pack up. So it's into the sticky heat again, to stand around and be useless in the way that only a non-working producer knows how.
So right now I'm packing all of the suitable clothes I have for Africa in one case, and all of my other clothes in another case. Devon has said that I can store all of the things I'm not taking with me at his place, and so when I come back I get to go straight into my new house. My new home.
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Posted on June 16, 2007 @ 12:49 pm
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That Friday feeling is always best enjoyed the other side of a bubble bath and a glass of wine.
After soaking everything away, I finally set to on my livejournal and profile. I'm no computer technician, and I had a nightmare trying to sort out some of the colors, but now my icons, profile and journal are all under my control. I'll think so much more of anyone who can get the unifying song to things [although hush you, because I know you know who it is.] So for any of you wondering what I look like, here I am in all of my very dubious glory.
These next three days are mine, all mine, and I intend to use them wisely. Now that I've woken up after it's gotten light, I'm going to have a leisurely breakfast, and read the newspapers. A hop, skip and jump in a tube should see me in Hampstead, where a little one-bedroomed house with a spiral staircase and a balcony awaits me. From there it's onto the cutting edge house, in Belsize Park, with the pretty views and open plan everything, with the bedroom mezzanine. There are a few other properties in that area that I want to look at, but I'm fairly sure it'll come down to these two.
So then it'll be a case of readying the painting team [or Sean and Larry and Bono] and the moving team [Danny and Devon], so that we can get the place looking great. In all honesty, it's not going to take much because it's small, but it's really important for me to have somewhere that's cosy, that I can settle in and love. Talking about it with a couple of people tonight actually has me far more excited at the prospect - all I need is a bed, and a chair, and a table, and from there I can make up my own mind what I do with it: the art I hang, the colors I choose, the way I dress it is all up to me. Which obviously means it's going to be tartan and leopard print with undertones of zucchini everywhere ;) Humor aside, if any of you are around London and fancy helping a damsal in a dress, I'm willing to feed and water any willing victims parties.
However, I'm only spending Saturday looking at houses. Sunday I'm going swimming if it kills me. After hearing from people in sunnier places, and those with a propensity for the North Sea, I've decided that it's time to hit the pool. I mean, I'm not crazy enough to try the freezing tidal waters of this little island. [For those of you wondering, I think I've worked out the difference between 'ocean' and 'sea' is: temperature]. However, the hotel has a swimming pool, and seeing as I'm cutting short my stay here, spending the day working out in the beautiful gym with the beautiful people sounds like an ideal day for me.
And then Monday... Well, Monday's a complete mystery to me at the minute. Normally that would have my OCD side freaking out, except that in days where I've been surrendering utterly to the whims of someone else, it's safe to say my control issues have calmed a little bit. I may go to the cinema, or drink too much coffee, or read a book. I may do all of the above.
I'm sitting in boy short's and a man's red t-shirt at the minute, and my bagel is half eaten and my coffee is half-drunk, and I just about - just about remember what it is to feel good about waking up in the morning.
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Posted on June 09, 2007 @ 2:12 am
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When I am at work, you are at work. Do you understand?
My daily battles with the bastard of all directors has not gotten any easier. At this point, the leading actress is offering me respite in her trailer, just so that noone has to witness yet another stripping down. In all of our careers, I guess we get to this point, and this man has become my Everest. I get his coffee, and his goddamn bagel, and he decides that he's going caffeine-free non-gluten. I get him caffeine-free non-gluten [no goddamn point] and he decides he's a raw vegan. I get him his shot of wheatgrass and nut-free, dairy-free, gm-free, dressing-free lettuce with no vinegar, and he's heard of some Japanese diet that surely I've heard of, didn't my people invent it?
So it was a blessing to discover that because of the Bank Holiday weekend we didn't get last week, and because of things like labor laws which the UK were kind enough to extend in our direction, I get this weekend all to myslef.
Of course, for as much as I'm whining like a little girl, now that I have time off I've no idea what to do with it. House-hunting is high on the list, although the more outrageous the director gets, the more pleasure I have calling for room service. I don't know how ready I am to make my imprint on a home. The last place I lived properly was not mine, and whilst there were beautiful memories, the memories are all that I have of there - with a few dorky polaroids from the camera my mom sent me for my last birthday, and the obligatory shirts that made their way from him to me.
It's times like this that I miss Lara. Lara's been my best friend since Junior High - we met on the track team, and she knew what it was like to be from two places at once. She's probably without a doubt one of the funniest people I know, with this mad mop of coffee colored curls that shakes when she laughs. She was there the first time that I got my heart broken, I was there for the birth of her little girl. But she's thousands of miles away, probably dancing out with her little girl, and I'm here. Though she's only a phonecall away, like a lot of the people I love most in the world, the cellphone doesn't come out until I know I really can't cope.
Coping is what I do, though. I just think I'm going to need more chocolate than first considered.
What do you use to cope?
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Posted on May 25, 2007 @ 10:13 pm
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I've always hated being a tall girl.
When I was a kid, my mom would stroke my hair and tell me that other girls would wish they were this tall. Which never made any difference, because I was such a gangly thing. I spent most of my time with a nose in my books, doing everything that I could to make myself less obvious. The only thing I had was track team, and that was when I could run away - my long legs could eat up the ground and leave the other girls standing there. It was a way to run away from everything - anyone who has ever been from a family of mixed cultures knows sometimes how that can feel. Because it's a mix, of identities and dreams and understanding.
All of this came back in a heartbeat today. The man was huge, easily one of the tallest men I've known, and he towered above me, barking orders. Orders for his coffee, and the specific bagel that he wanted from a store that was on the other side of the city, all of it done at a pitch and volume that implied I couldn't speak English. And for a moment, the stammering almost came back again - the fear and the apology and the confusion and the uncertainty. Almost.
It wasn't until I got home that I let myself finally feel everything that the day had taken out of me. And now the only thing I want is one of those long, cold showers, and to creep into bed.
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Posted on May 16, 2007 @ 3:21 pm
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There are a few things in life, as a woman, that we get to claim as our right.
Taking A Bath
Bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles, in an oversized bath. Some girls are candle girls, and that's alright. Others like incense, or music. I'm not so picky, and for me a lot of it depends on whether or not I have company. Mostly, though, I operate on a simple ratio. The water should be as hot as it can get, the bubbles should be thick and creamy, and I'm a happy girl. If it's after a long day, then it's going to need a glass of wine, and some awful magazine too.
Chocolate
This can go along with the bath. A very long time ago, one of my first male friends discovered that he'd get far more by way of conversation with me if he brought chocolate first. So then it sort of became a reputation for me. It doesn't need to be fancy chocolate - it doesn't have to be more than a Hershey's Kiss, as long as there's something chocolatey about it.
Dressing Up
I love to dress up. Even on a day to day basis, when I know that I've got a tube commute, and the day might be totally messy I'll dress up. A cute pair of boots, a purse, a pair of sunglasses, a nice scarf. It doesn't matter to me, so long as I get to feel a little bit more like me. I think that life is built up on the little details.
Shopping
In order to be able to dress up, I have to go shopping to do so. I can go for days, a million different shops, to pick out the beautiful little details.
The past couple of weeks have been quite the surprise. Whilst I was dating Daniel, I had all but moved to London. I was born in L.A. so when it came time to go into recovery, I moved back there. It was good. Well, actually, it was okay but as hellish as moving back to your parent's place can be.
So finally when I resurfaced, 2929 decided that I should come back to London. And that's where I've found myself for the past little while, staying in a hotel, and travelling through my old life like some kind of tourist. Things have slowly started to come back to being mine again - obviously I'm only interesting for what I did with Danny, which means that it's been nice to slip under the radar again. I can go out with my hair a mess, and stop and talk to old friends, without worrying that they'll be caught in the glare of the paparrazzi. I even managed to fit a date, of sorts, in there which was really nice. The jury's still out on whether or not it'll lead to another one, or whether or not I even want that. I think I'm keen to just date a little bit, nothing serious, so that I can enjoy those things I love so well: First kisses, the walk home, the enjoyable distraction.
Work is finally picking up pace again. After taking out so much time, I seemed to have given them the impression that I wasn't a serious producer. Which is a really great feeling. So I've had to work back at that, and after a few serious conversations and a few more well-timed comments and right-place-right-time issues, I'm working back out of being the glorified secretary back into the realm of my job.
Which means that shoots notwithstanding, I'm going to be hanging around London more. So now I need to go property hunting.
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| Hang around actors enough, end up make believe... |
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Posted on May 10, 2007 @ 3:14 am
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One of these days I'll be able to do something completely independently, without Daniel being involved.
Until then, let me just work out how to make all of this as beautiful as possible.
If I've added you, it's probably because we've made a film together. Or I'm an admirer of your work.
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lonely
