They told me not to do it

Good friends and family told me not to do it. They said it wasn't worth it. They said the content was a bit too close to home. They said it was not as good as the series, but I did it anyway. Yesterday night, I watched the Sex and the City movie. They were right.

2.5 hours is not needed to tell the story of four over-reacting 40+ women in the NYC. It is a story of relationships: failed relationships, trying relationships, the end of relationships, the hardships of relations ships, the survival of relationships. All things I should not be around. But for some reason I feel the need to put myself in situations that I know will be painful. Why? Is this a human condition or am I just a looking to be in pain?

But back to the movie. Worth it because you always want a conclusion to things. You want to know Snow White wakes up and Cinderella finds her prince. Through out the movie they say the fairy tale isn't true. Life does not guarantee happiness. Some people make it, some people don't. It is the luck of the stars, or the luck of the cards, or the luck of giving the right person a second chance.

But in the end, in true Hollywood fashion, creates the happy ending. And in true HBO fashion, the solution is sex. But that isn't what I disapprove of. What I don't like is that it perpetuates the fantasy of everyone ends happy. What is happiness? Is it different for everyone or is happiness is prescribed and if you don't meet that list of what makes happiness, you wont ever be happy.

To me, happiness is an ongoing process. I actually don't like to use the word. Lately I have been using the word "fulfilled". I started with satisfied, but I needed to raise the stakes. I need something more than a house over my head and food on my table. I am very gratefully that these needs are assumed to be met for me, but I need something more. I need to have a life that is more than satisfying. I need to meet a life that is fulfilled.

What I am learning (and it is a process) is that fulfillment needs to come from inside yourself. What I am upset about is this is Sex in the City tells women of all ages that unless you have your fairy tale ending (which for them ends in men in some way) you will never be fulfilled. I can't have this be true. I don't think it is.

home, sweet home

Last night was the first time I have been in my tiny apartment for longer than 20 minutes since 9/11. Last night was the first time I have had a meal that was not delivered, picked-up, or hotel food since 9/11. Last night was the first time I did not worry about killing (or loosing) cats on an hourly basis.

Last night was wonderful.

In the past few weeks I have house/cat sat, shot a short film, started rehearsals, went to San Fran for work, fell down a flight of stairs, and have been hungry 20 out of the 24 hours a day.

Last night I left work and went straight home. I put on my pajamas, turned on Charlie Gibson, and started to cook dinner. What I would make for dinner was a dilemma for me all day. The contents of my fridge and pantry were something like this: frozen chicken, expired guac, 2 bottles of white wine, 1 bottle of champagne, brown rice, black beans, soy mozzarella cheese, and salsa. Obviously all of the necessary ingredients for the perfect quick, easy, and satisfying meal.

After consultation with a well respected cook, we decided on a menu:

• Pitch the guac - no sense in making myself sick on my first home cooked meal
• Bake the chicken, when it is almost done, add some salsa on top, once it is warmed through add the mozzarella cheese and hope it melts (b/c fake cheese doesn't always melt like normal cheese)
• Cook the brown rice in chicken broth (if i can find it in the back of the pantry) and add some of the black beans for a veggie/legume
• Finally, a glass of wine, just for good measure
  

It wasn't my finest meal - but it did the job. I made my meal watching the news. I ate my meal, sitting on my couch, watching Seinfeld with bad reception. I cleaned up my dishes watching Criminal Minds (secret fav show I have). I could not have been happier.

Today I went to the farmers market downtown. I now have veggies, bread, fruit, and even some frozen ground beef. (I see a meatloaf in my near future.) I am not sure what dinner to night will be, but at least I will have a full fridge. To me, there is nothing sexier than a full fridge.

My home may be small. I don't really get to choose what room to sit in. I only have 4 chairs, and have to improvise seating with a stools and ottoman. But, the past few weeks I have learned that my apartment works for me. To quote one of my favorite advertising slogans, "It is just my size."

I am ready for fall to start. I want to have fires (in the fireplace) and cuddle up with blankets and hot tea. I have to do this because I refuse to turn on my heat until there is snow on the ground or my pipes freeze - whatever comes last.

This is the first apartment I have renewed my lease at in Chicago. That is a very big deal for me. But it makes sense now. It is my home, and I think I might stay there for a while.

Sleep deprivation is not something I have experienced since high school. When it happened then, I had my mom to tell me to have a good cry, take a hot shower, and then snap out of it. I usually worked.

This is my first sleep deprivation experience as an adult, living on my own, responsible for feeding myself through half-conscientiousness. In the past 48 hours I have had 9 hours of sleep. 9 hours of sleep is actually a very standard one nights sleep for me. Needless to say, I am a bit f-ed.

Why, you ask. Because I am driven and I pull myself up by my bootstraps. I committed to shooting a small film Friday and Saturday night. Friday night's wrap time was changed from 11:30pm to 4:00am. Why did I stay? How was I able to control my rage? I have no idea. Why was I doing all of this for a glorified feature extra roll. (my character name is "girl in owl mask")

After 3.5 hours sleep I headed off to rehearsal. I rehearsed from 10:30am - 4:30pm. For some bizzarereason, I was up. I was active. I was pumped. It could have been the vitamin cocktail I mixed. I could have been the Venti Earl Grey that I was double fisting. But I was ready.

I got back to my apartment around 5pm. I had about a half hour to sit before I had to get ready for my second night of shooting. Tonight was going to be my featured shots. I got there, we set up; we rehearsed; we started to shoot. Then the neighbors started their party. A party with obscenely loud music.

We are all familiar with the phrase, "quite on set". This was not possible. Cops were called (not just by us) but they only turned it down for about 15 minutes. So, at 11:30pm, 3.5 hours after showing up, I left - without shooting a thing and scheduled to come back Sunday @8pm.

Sunday was going to be my recovery day. That is now f-ed.

I got up this morning at 10, not by choice, but because it is just what my body does. I moved in slow motion. I sat on the couch and watched George and a bazaar movie I had from netflix. Around noon I took a shower. I think my eyes were closed for most of it. Everything is heavy, life is blurred and in slow motion. But the longer I was up, the more I wanted to do - no matter how tired I was. There was some bazaar chemistry going on in my body.

Sleep deprivation creates a defence mechanism in your body to conserve energy and still allow you to get done what you needed to. Your body turns into a survival mode. You get done essential things. You stumble around and drop things to be sure you know your body is not right. This is the way your body allows you to push your limits - but be conscience of it.

Why am I blogging right now instead of sleeping? I have no idea - but it is what my body is allowing me to do. Maybe it is to give me physical evidence for me to remember not to over schedule myself like this again.

The upcoming week is really no better. My least scheduled day is Tuesday. But I already have a list for this "open" day.

It is all good- I am doing things I want to. And it is all worth it. For the love of the game.

Dinner - Finally

After first date after first date with no success, I finally found the key to dating:

Do the opposite of whatever I think is right.

If I think "I should tell a stupid mom joke"; I [try to] keep it to myself.
If I think "Order the salad because that is what girls do"; I order the burger.
If I think "I need to grill him on his online profile to see how much he lied"; I just let him talk. I can compare notes later.

If I think "To be a feminist, I have to at least offer to pay for half the check/or buy a round." But I let him pick the place. He suggested that we get dinner there. He chose the price point and I didn't even go for my bag. It wasn't discussed. And it was wonderful - no awkwardness.

All in all, it was a great night. Free dinner, great conversation, and I am finally getting the hang of this dating thing. Well, we will see if he calls for a second date.