I moved… yada yada and hooray! Below is a video I shot a few days ago. I’m still organizing the new place.
On an alternate, highly personal note and to address a little Facebook uproar I carelessly whipped up with friends on pins and needles that I “quit acting,” my own fault for using those very same words in a Facebook post, I will admit life in Los Angeles was established for me when I moved here a few years ago post college to pursue an acting career, like many in their 20’s.
I’ll still act in films upon request, but am not auditioning several times a week like I once was, but rather writing for iMusicDaily.com, wanting oh-so-very badly to finish writing my book which is a collection of stories yanked straight from my life growing up with tons of brothers and sisters in a crazy Christian missionary group that traveled around trying to get people’s souls into heaven. That’s the unusual life I had until I was 11 years old.
“The world feels unbalanced when an artist gives up their craft.” my friend Luis posted on my Facebook page. I’m not quitting, Luis, just resourcefully funneling the years of skills I gained performing Improvisational Theatre using story narrative, setting, pace, dialogue and character development into my writing. It feels right. Write. Wright. Right here in Los Angeles.
Getting a head start on moving was made easier with with Trader Joe’s being so amazing in giving loads of boxes. In Los Angeles, I called the Trader Joe’s on La Brea and they put boxes aside for me.
I live in the ghetto right now. Not the word ghetto as it was originally used in Venice to describe the area where Jews were compelled to live. That was ghetto for real. But I do live in the ghetto as is now described as an overcrowded urban area often associated with a specific ethnic or racial population. I live in a sort of ghetto of Los Angeles’ Koreatown. The crime may be moderately high as I noticed when I searched on the LAPD website where you can type in your address and find the crime rate where each crime represents a dot on the map within a 3 mile radius of your address. Pink, yellow, blue. Colorful little dots they are. I don’t want to brag, but in my neighborhood it’s quite a lot.
Nothing bad’s ever happened to me, though. But it did happen to my brother, who in a drunken stupor decided to walk outside to buy liquor at 3 in the morning and got held up at gunpoint by two guys who took his ID, cigarette and lighter, but when they frisked him failed to notice he had a $20 bill scrunched up in his hand, which he didn’t divulge for fear of losing it. They let him go, keeping their findings. “Come on guys! At LEAST give me my ID back!” Kindly, they did.
In a few days I’m moving out of the ghetto and will no longer living in a ghetto.
What I’d like to know though, is where else can you find a bearded woman rummaging through garbage a block from your apartment? Not in the nice neighborhoods, I can assure you that! And what about all the couches and chairs people thoughtfully place at the edge of the curb so you can randomly take a lounge as you take a stroll on the colorful chewing gum ridden sidewalks, each wad of gum like a dot on a map.
Anyway, this is my little ode to my ghetto apartment on Mariposa avenue, one block south of Los Angeles’ Wilshire Blvd. Good bye my apartment.
I colored my hair bright red and now I look like Ariel. Not on purpose. I was walking through the cute Los Angeles Koreatown Korean shops on Vermont and Wilshire near the Coffee Bean where I get a lot of writing done and I saw Davinci haircolor which is some brand I didn’t know existed yet bought it anyway. In my stubbornness I didn’t think it would be as red as it is even though the hair sample near the product clearly indicated it would be. Anyhow, this is what I look like per a photo snapped at the Santa Monica beach yesterday morning. Cheers.
I bought a new car! As you can see from my previous blog, my Beetle outlived it’s welcome and so my most wonderful Stanley looked online for me, eyeing a 2007 Honda Fit. The Honda Dealer in Carlsbad was asking $12,000 and so we went in to test drive it and negotiate price. Two guys who were the unpleasant versions of Anderson Cooper and Michael Clarke Duncan were pretty insulting perhaps because I appear goofy and naïve. So I took my business elsewhere, where a nice guy named Jonathon had listed his 2007 Honda Fit for $8,500. Yes, $3,500 LESS. Recently I read a book entitled “How to Outnegotiate Anyone.” It proved to be useful as I told Jonathon after the Pep Boys inspection “I want your car. I have $6,500 cash now to hand you! Or money order, or cashier’s check! Whatever you want!”
“Cash.. Hmm… That’s very tempting. How about $7,800?” We finally settled on $7,400. I’d been nervous during the entire day, all skeered and shit about anticipating having to negotiate as we test drove Jonathon’s vehicle, asked questions, requested to have it inspected by Pep Boys (I paid the $100 cost), drove Jonathon back to his car, ate lunch with Stan at Costco’s while we awaited the inspection, etc. I pretended like I wasn’t though, even though at one point I had a minor meltdown, outbursting at Stan during lunch, as the car awaited inspection “OKAY, I WILL!” when he’d insisted I should offer a little less than I’d originally thought so I’d have more negotiating room. In the end it turned out to be simple and perfect and the best car-buying experience I’ve ever had with Stan and I browsing Autozone together, buying the two items the car was lacking for under $50. Brand-new silver hubcaps and clear floor mats.
Shocking to me when I first moved out here to Los Angeles, was the prevalence of apartments without washers and dryers. Sure, a bunch of apartments have a washer and dryer on the premises and there are dozens of laundromats within easy driving range, allegedly. But seriously to not have a washer and dryer in your very own apartment seemed downright third world. And I know about third world, girlfriend. Yes, in Brazil where I lived till I was 15, we didn’t even have laundromats. A washer woman came once a week and washed our laundry, hanging it out in the air on the clothesline to dry. Her name was Dona Maria.
Anywho, I compromised my standard of living by moving to Los Angeles since living in a nice apartment in Florida with rolling green lawns, a swimming pool, jacuzzi, tennis courts, washer and dryer (inside our apartment), etc, cost far less than a bare-bones okay apartment in an okay neighborhood in these parts. Of course, I do live in Koreatown where I get to see cute asian guys wherever I go, am now engaged to one of them, live a few blocks from the Wiltern where the hottest bands play, live a block away from the Brass Monkey bar where I just found out Seth MacFarlane tends to hang out. So there’s that. Back to laundromats… we all sort through our whites and colors, measure our soap, fold our underwear and prepare to get on with our lives.
I was at the Coffee Bean on Wilshire and Vermont in Los Angeles yesterday trying to write my book when I inadvertently and advertently overheard two senior citizens on their first date. They’d met on Match.com. Hilarity ensued. Here’s my video about yesterday that Stan shot on my iPhone.
This didn’t happen in Los Angeles, but I feel the need to write about it here. Stan and I have been together for four months and on Saturday night I took a 2 hour Amtrak train ride from Los Angeles to Solana Beach to meet him. He had a pink rose waiting for me along with lovely floating candles in glass, flames quivering in their various places around the room, casting the perfect moving hue of light on his tan skin, freckles, and curly black hair. He tends to do random amazing things so I didn’t suspect unusual and in fact wasn’t aware of what I was in for… fast forward to the phone conversation I had with my brother who is in Florida just now.
Me: I just got engaged!
Taurug: No you didn’t.
Me. Dude, I did!
Taurug: Are you serious?
Me: Yes, bro!
Taurug: No, you’re not!
Me: Yes, I am. Look on Facebook!
Taurug: That’s crazy. I didn’t expect that. Are you happy about it?
Me: Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Yes!
Taurug: Makes me wanna meet the guy now.
Maybe I seem too independent or insane for marriage, or perhaps too goofy and naïve. But whatever. IT HAS HAPPENED. It feels right. Lovely yet perfectly natural and ordinary. Stan is the man.
Stan is the most amazing boyfriend ever. I’m not just saying that cause he’ll read this and then I’ll get some action later. Anyway, he got us tickets to see David Sedaris, who currently happens to be my favorite book author. This was last night and we drove for about an hour down to the Long Beach Terrace Theatre. We were in the 3rd row, the room buzzing with excitement. I turned to see a few rows behind us Jeff Goldsmith, the senior editor of Los Angeles’ Creative Screenwriting Magazine.
“We got better tickets than he did!” Stan stated. Moments later David Sedaris came out onto the stage in what he claimed was a “Pussy Wagon” but in reality it was just some sort of vehicle in the golf cart family.
He started off with a story about a control-freak rabbit whose character he based on an airport employee he met while going through security check. He’d asked why he had to take off his vest since he’d already taken off his shoes and jacket when she yelled “LOSE THE VEST!” Well. “I think I’ll write a fable about you, he silently thought.” With that, I realized once again why I love Sedaris.
I colored my hair bright red and now I look like Ariel. Not on purpose. I was walking through the cute Los Angeles 
I bought a new car! As you can see from 
This didn’t happen in Los Angeles, but I feel the need to write about it here.