Bastille Day 2010

Not long after Americans celebrate their Independence Day every July 4th, the French honor a similar holiday ten days later. This is known as Bastille Day. I could go into the history of why the Bastille is important, (even though the monument in Paris dedicated to this event is tiny and underwhelming just like a lot of things I've experienced lately), but that's not what this post is about at all. Two years ago on July 14th, while the French were setting off lots of fireworks, wearing scarves, and eating patriotic colored cheeses (I'm really not sure how they celebrate to be honest), I was having quite possibly one of the worst days of my life.

That's it?

Let's rewind the clock back to Summer 2010. (*Diddly do diddly do diddly do*) I had basically been unemployed since mid-November, even though I had recently attained an expensive but ultimately worthless college degree. I had briefly worked for the Census, (oh god, the horror!), and was reading scripts for a screenwriting competition at $10 a pop under the table (shhhh!), but still drowning financially. My unemployment checks didn't even cover half of my rent, and I was tearing through my savings just to afford little luxuries like the occasional ramen noodle packet and electricity.

Oh life sustaining yet nutrition less white carbs.
So delicious when you don't depend on them for survival.
 I may have this for lunch just because I can now afford real food.

Thankfully, my parents were able to take over my exorbitant student loan payments temporarily, which was a major financial hardship for them. I was also hugely overweight at the time. Not that this was unusual for me, but it certainly didn't help matters. I didn't really know that many people in Los Angeles, even though I'd lived there for a whole year. So basically I just sat alone in my apartment all day desperately combing Craigslist and other job listing sites for anything to keep the tiny South Central studio roof over my head.

It was a shitty, shitty period in my life. Weeks would go by when the only time I would step outside my door would be to move Stan from one side of the street to the other for street sweeping days. If it wasn't for this simple, yet very important task, I would have had no concept of what day of the week it was. Street sweeping was the only thing that gave me structure in my life. That's why I awoke with a jolt when I heard the obnoxious beeping of the street sweeper at 8am on Wednesday, July 14th, two hours before it was due. I had been planning on moving my car right before 10am, so I bolted out of my iron screen door wearing only a t-shirt and bright yellow happy face boxers. Sure enough, the entire side of the street was empty, and Stan was nowhere to be found. A helpful neighbor sitting on his stoop informed me that my car had been towed.

It's sad when this is the only thing giving your life structure.

This was a first for me. I had never had a car towed or even legitimately ticketed in my life! (Ok, there was that time six months earlier when I got a fix-it ticket for a busted headlight because Stan's cover fell off and lightbulbs always seem to burst). I was flabbergasted, flummoxed, and in all other ways bewildered. Luckily, said helpful neighbor knew where it had been taken and the impound was within walking distance. So I got dressed and walked the streets of South Central to rescue Stan. Remember how I said I was unemployed and broke at the time? I think I had maybe $40 in my checking account and that was it. My credit card practically screamed out loud when I had to fork over $300 to retrieve my beloved vehicle. It turns out that they were paving the street that day, without notifying the residents of Mont Clair St. They did post signs saying 'temporary tow away', but they did not have a date on them and I swear they had been up since the previous week. You know how they tend to leave those signs up for weeks after completion...

Sigh.

When I got to Stan, I noticed that not only was I towed, but there was a ticket on his windshield. SERIOUSLY? I didn't know you could be both towed and ticketed for the same offense. Yup. You can. The ticket was only for $60, which doesn't seem like that much. However, this paltry amount would have literally bankrupted me. I was so depressed that I didn't feel like going home after the impound. So I drove. I ended up all the way in Santa Monica, just wandering the beautiful, clean, smoke-free streets. Until I found the King's Head pub. And proceeded to drown my sorrows with cider and over-priced fish and chips. (Hey, I'd already spent $300 on my only credit card, what's another $30 at this point?). After the pub, I walked around the beach and pier, being all classy and day drunk, wallowing in misery. I had to stay there for several hours until my ill-advised mini-bender wore off and I could go home.

Ye Olde King's Head Pub. 

But I ended up fighting the ticket. I sent in a letter to the Parking Violations stating my case, and waited. And waited. To this day, I never received anything from them. Then my dad gets a letter from the DMV saying that I can't re-register my car until it's paid. Only now it's $154 with the late fee.

"We could certainly party with the Haiti-ans!"

WHAT THE HELL????!!! I had to call in three separate times and wait on hold for them to determine that they sent the letter with the decision that the ticket was valid (B.S.) to the wrong address. Luckily, I was able to sweet-talk them into waiving that late fee, "totally based on my powers of persuasion." Cher Horowitz would have been proud. And since I now have a job (though I still manage to be broke all the time), it's not quite as painful to shell out $60. But since the registration deadline is ticking, I had to make sure that the check got mailed today. Because naturally this is the one case where you can't pay over the phone or online. Argh. So I literally chased down the mail man, who happened to be driving by. He was very friendly and took my letter for me. He was also a champ and didn't laugh when the back full of donated clothes I happened to be carrying split all over the road. (I was going to make a pit-stop at the Salvation Army barrel thingy). It was quite the slapsticky sight to see.

Clearly Sadie has a "Stan" of her own!

Super long, depressing, and boring story short, this was one of the worst days of my life. The only thing that got me out of my funk was that my adorable, spunky niece Miss Sadie was born the next day. So even though my life was still super crappy, I realized that being an aunt makes it all worthwhile. (Cue the Awwwws here!)

Inspirational Montage

Having been out of a job for over two weeks now, I'd have to say unemployment is a lot less scary this time around. I've learned that the world is not going to end just because I don't have a steady income right now (though having my unemployment check be three times what it was last year helps with that fear, plus I'm not blowing my savings on a whirlwind trip to far-off continents). My skin is a lot thicker and my persistence is more persistent. I've learned to get over my fear of shamelessly asking what few contacts I have for hookups (job hookups, not the booty kind). That's the secret. As a woman, and a non-confrontational woman at that, I have a hard time asking for help. I don't want to be a burden and bother busy people. But it never hurts to ask. I've discovered that most people love being able to help. It makes them feel useful and validates that they've truly made it in their own careers. I only wish I'll be in that position someday to verify my theory.

Ideally me in ten years. The Mary of course. Or the Tina in my case.

"Do you have some sort of businesswoman's special?"

A former/current internship supervisor of mine called me today regarding an inquiry e-mail I had sent a few weeks back. I knew she was busy and didn't take it personally that she hadn't responded. In truth, I had forgotten about it. I'm a bit of an out-of-sight, out-of-mind type of person sometimes. But we talked for thirty minutes, which is hours in entertainment industry time. She didn't know of any positions in particular, but she was willing to pass my resume along to people who might. I appreciated that, like you wouldn't believe. Then she bestowed upon me all of her hard-earned pearls of wisdom about being unemployed in this business, never giving up even if you're forced to take a non-industry job just to keep a roof over your head, to network my ass off, and keep writing no matter what it costs.

A lot of which I sort of knew, and everyone tells me constantly. But to hear it from a mentor who knows exactly what you're going through and is willing to help, was just what I needed right now. Not to mention everyone needs a little encouragement and positive reinforcement from time to time. Right now I'm in a holding pattern regarding another opportunity. As my friend so eloquently stated, "My whole life is a holding pattern." We're thinking of making bumper stickers. But I refuse to count my un-hatched chickens or run around with my head cut off, putting all my eggs in one basket (so many chicken metaphors, why?) And even though it's not in the film industry, I feel better knowing that I'm not giving up by putting a roof over my head. I can always write no matter what I'm doing to pay the bills.

Me now.

So with her support, I'm going to do my damnedest to not let her down. I'm going to make a writing schedule, go to every networking event I can scare up, maintain every contact I have, and think outside the box regarding jobs I should apply to. Even if this particular job doesn't come through (and it might not because I have a tendency to ramble, and I discovered after the interview that I had lipstick on my teeth), I'll be ok. I can just picture myself now standing in front of a green-screened American flag waving as a John Williams orchestra crescendos in the background.

Not me at all, but you get the picture.

And hopefully the pictures livened up this admittedly dull post.

Unemployment the Sequel

Today marks day one of my auspicious return to unemployment. After working the last twelve days straight, it's nice to finally have a break. Six hours of relaxing in my pjs, watching Buffy, and eating chocolate in bed. Sounds like heaven, but already I'm bored and feeling discouraged. I've been dutifully checking job listings, updating my resume, and making a list of anyone I've ever known who might know of a job somewhere in the entertainment field (excluding the porn industry, though if it comes to it I think I could whip out a pretty solid adult script that doesn't sacrifice story or production value).

Before Edward, Bill, and Eric, there was Angel...

However I don't know if I have it in me to do this again. Unemployment just sucks the soul out of you. It takes all the joy out of lounging around, doing nothing. Usually this is my favorite thing to do (or not do rather). But the best thing about doing nothing is that you're doing it in place of something you're supposed to be doing instead. If you have nothing better to do, then it gets old fast. Hopefully this break from the work force will allow me to be more creative. I got to work on a lot of scripts last time around, so maybe it will be a good thing. Though I'm not so good with time management if I have no structure in my life.

One of my favorite things, a good Irish pub.

O'Brien's in Santa Monica is a damn good one.

If I have to be unemployed, I'm glad my last job ended with a bang. Between the awesome Irish pub night, stacks of free candy, amazing co-workers, and general satisfaction of doing a job I enjoy, this was a fantastic experience. Our big blowout wrap party was last night. Though it may have seemed like a typical schmooze and booze (I call trademark), a lot more was going on than just drinking absurdly pink cocktails and eating fancy schmancy hors-d'oeuvres. There was a palpable aura of relief in the air after a hectic two weeks of long days, several disgruntled and often unintelligent guests, sprinting towards the finish line. It was bittersweet, finally getting to bond with many people I never got to talk to even though we worked side by side for weeks. Good times were had, good contacts were made, musical sitcoms about a great pumpkin-sized tape ball we named Janice were conceived.

Meet Janice, forged from the tape that kept all the

cables and electrical wires in place so klutzes like me won't trip.

It was a fantastic night on the rooftop of Santa Monica place. But I'm sad to think I may not see some of those people again. It was kind of like the end of camp. Maybe we'll all be back next year, but many of us are looking for something just as awesome, but a little more permanent. So that takes us back to today. And massive amounts of Buffy while I wait for a phone call or e-mail from Lionsgate or NBC that will probably never come. Sigh. But at least we'll always have Santa Monica...

The lovely ladies of the Registration Department.

I'm the one whose face matches her shirt. Victim of Caucasian Glow.

Abandoned Ship!

Yes I realize it's been about six months since I last posted and most everyone who reads this damn thing has pretty much jumped ship too. Though isn't that the point of a blog? To rant, ramble, and rave to whatever tiny audience you can muster, and then get over it when you get busy/bored/lazy?

Well I have a renewed energy to keep blogging (god I still hate that term). I have been reading my favorite blogger's archives, the Sassy Curmudgeon, who is basically the cooler, older, slightly more neurotic, more than slightly more talented, snarkier East Coast version of myself. Like me, she also hates to write, but forces herself to do it. In the process she has gained an impressive following, and a triumphant wealth of source material.

So basically, I want to be her when I grow up. And in order to grow up, I have to get off my ass (metaphorically, since I'm technically on my ass at the moment), and start writing again. Much like exercise and reading, writing is like a bipolar hobby of mine. I'm either working at it feverishly, or avoiding it altogether. This is a very bad thing since I happen to want to be a writer (again, when I grow up. which probably won't be any time soon).

But you'll be proud to know that I have actually started a novel! The first one since about fourth grade when I was convinced I was going to be a world famous authoress, like J.K. Rowling, if I had known who she was back then. So far it's going well. Eleven pages in and going strong. Though it kind of sounds like an extended blog. But if I say I did that on purpose, then hopefully people will just think it's my cool, hip style instead of a lack of standard literary skills.

The screenplay, which my partner and had working entitled "Hawaiian Goonies," has been put on the shelf for almost as long as this blog. Sadly, we have no plans to push through the last 30 pages, since we now are both fully employed and have opposite schedules. Maybe it will happen someday, but for now, I'm just happy that I got this far.

So basic update, yes baby Ayvind is adorable and awesome. He dances like a robot with a very serious face and it's pretty much the cutest thing ever. My new niece, Sadie, was born a month later. She is just starting to get cute (I'm sorry, but newborn white babies look like a cross between an alien, a frog and a crotchety old man). Unemployment sucked, but I stuck it out and eventually got a job sign twirling. Which was both hilarious and a pain in the ass. I may write more on that subject later. But now I'm back full-time at the job I had last year with the American Film Market. And tomorrow is my first real payday in a looooong time. It will be a most excellent feeling.

Anyway, sorry for the super-long and not terribly amusing blog. But I'm going to try to update a few times a week. Hopefully I'll have something worthwhile to say. If not, I'll just make stuff up. In the meantime, check out the Sassy Curmudgeon. She's pretty much the coolest person ever.