I wish I hadn’t stopped writing. Seriously. I miss it every day. I see something funny, such as Ron Jeremy driving a Maxima while eating a hot dog, and I want to write about it but I don’t. I tried once but, oof, it’s not like riding a bike and you don’t remember how. It came out stilted and awkward. I’m sure this will as well but you know, at this point I say screw it. Maybe the flow will come back with time. Maybe it won’t and I will forever be the awkward writing girl. As I am generally awkward in every other part of my life I feel like it fits.
So let’s get down to it. The last oh say 8 months of my life have been interesting, chaotic, transformative, horrible, gut wrenching and at times, wacky, how have you been? And thus the end of the formalities.
So here I am, your ODD, currently in a hotel room in Florida. I have relocated myself and my two cats to Los Angeles (more on why I am in Florida later). There is a boy in my life but out of respect for him I am not going to mention him or my relationship, maybe one day he’ll consent to it but for now he has asked that I delicately “keep him the hell out of this.” And so, I for one of the first times in my life, am obliging. I am trying to be less difficult, not sure how that will go, but we’ll call it a grand experiment.
I moved to LA in September and have not fully adapted. I am trying, really and truly, but it’s not my kind of town. Everything you see and read about LA? Yeah, it’s all true. The size 8 jeans I bought were the obese size, I have never talked more about film and Britney Spears in my entire life, and dear lord there are a lot of women with big breasts. This town, in short, makes me afraid for humanity. I actually feel myself losing intellect day by day. And still, I stay. I am something of a glutton for punishment.
My first job out here for was a cult. It wasn’t technically a cult just one of the “religious” organizations that all the stars flock to. Unfortunately the only star I met was one from Dawson’s Creek and no, it wasn’t her. The job was 2.9 miles from my apartment and was a 40 minute drive on bad days. I could have actually crawled on my face and made better time. I controlled their website and marketing and one day I realized that my job was in fact to get more people to join the cult and give up their life savings. This was not a good feeling. When the leader drove up in his new 95,000 dollar car and his wife emerged wearing Chloe head to toe, I knew it was time to go.
Now I work for a big time show biz company. You’ve heard of us, trust me. And this new job is why in fact I am in Florida. It’s also the reason I decided to go back to the blog. Tonight I had a business dinner that left me feeling, well, stupid. I was telling a story to the person seated next to me, we were laughing and having a good time, when suddenly all eyes were on us. The man next to me said something about how my story was funny and asked me to repeat it to the group. Let's just say, I didn't feel like it went over well with the higher ups at the table. For the first time in a long time I came home embarrassed of who I am. I will always be, to some, a little too loud, a little too gregarious, too animated, too fat, too blonde, too something. In New York that was ok. Because I think most people there are also a “little too”. That doesn’t really fly in the well-toned world of LA. And in front of this table, I felt like an ass. I cried on the phone to the boy and he reminded me that I am in fact not shit. That sure, my boss may chastise me tomorrow for dominating the conversation for a moment, and so be it, maybe it’s a lesson learned. But I yam who I yam, and who I am is a storyteller. Good or bad, it’s me, and so I return. There are probably no readers left and that’s ok, I just need an outlet, a place to tell a story and get it out.
And thus, let the story begin.