RAGE

And in a pit of rage you wait. Beneath a constant cloud of black. No picture of sun to lead the way. You wait.

Cold wind leaves marks across my face, reminding me of this life that is dang-stank hard, lonely, and damn challenging when you have passion.

Voices pitch and wail, a few hundred smiles change hands, it's another day in sales, and my bones are ever slowly withering away to dust. There is no loyalty - this great big sea is filled with sharks. Even the guppies will claw a mighty bite.

The pavement calls. Miles of it. Seducing to be walked upon. An affair I miss deeply, especially when the weather begins to frost over. Cafes are the best places to hide when it's cold. Bury in a stash of words. Forget troubles.

The men are plenty, but still none hold my gaze. A few passing slow smiles. A few "get to know you" questions. "Yeah, the Peppers rock." "I'd like to write obits." "What's your name?" A subtle wink and half-curled smile.

Ease down, hun. You look like you just graduated - High school.

The end seems long yet not far behind, catching up close, like a speeding train. Another year passes, the faster the speed increases. Where did the year go? 2012 was a mess yet enlightening: I never want to live in LA.

I have much to do today.

The Quiet Pull

You know when happens. You can catch the exact moment it does. The silent connection that flows from one end of the room to the other.

What causes it? That magnetic pull. When two eyes out of a sea of many meet for a long pause. A duration where even the noisiest of rooms grows silent. When you're not aware of anything or anyone else.

Words aren't necessary. Words could muddy the magic.

Sometimes words are okay, like, if the person in question is bold enough to walk across the room and say, "Hi, I'm...(blank)."

That happened once. He was bold, ballsy, enough.

Another longish pause as our hands clasped for a shake.

I was at work. He was at work. It wasn't the greatest time to chat one another up. I leaned to the side to get a better look as he walked away. We were going live in a matter of minutes, so yeah - bad timing.

But that magnetic pull...it's something "magical" isn't it? I feel silly calling it Magic. But it is. Cause it happens, like almost never. At least for me.

There are attractive men all across Toronto. But very few hold my gaze. It's that silent pull that leaves me speechless, where uttering a single word feels like a daunting feat. Me, a shameless flirt, dead for words.

So what is it? The pull. The silent draw... destiny? Where two souls are bound to cross paths? Meant to cross paths? And what if nothing comes from it but just those long seconds of silence. Is it to be left for another time?

Timber - You Hear Me?

And in this land of trees. Trees of all sorts: Tall trees, small trees, prickly trees, well-rooted trees, and hollow trees; we all fit in the mix somewhere.

I made the grave mistake of giving my number to a fella (I was at work). This is what history will note as a bookmark: Never to repeat, at least when passing a number so casually as I did. I never give my digits out. I must have been very tired that day.

So, he texts me some obscure dittie. Not saying anything valid, but in is mind it may have meant the world and sounded very profound. It wasn't. I write, I understand words, I get why people use them.

I didn't answer the text.

A day...? Passes by. I think nothing of it. It doesn't even register as a second, third, twentieth thought.

Remember. The text said nothing valid, no question. It read more as a statement. I literally shrugged when I read it.

So today rolls around, still rolling, and in walks the same guy. He asked me if I got his text?

Seriously?

He keeps asking, follows me as I'm walking. I replied, "no".

I'm at work. Don't bother me. Don't ever corner me. And never demand anything, especially when we are strangers. He told me to text him back.

I nodded. I walked away. I'm working. I don't have time to chit chat and make small talk, which I hate doing. I don't like 'fake' talk of any kind. It's either an honest conversation or no conversation.

He texted back. I haven't read it.

Aggression and demands are uncool and just freakin' insane when you don't know the person, and just the same when you do. 

Timber.

Never Shed You

People often mistake me for someone who is much younger. Much much younger. I think I mentioned this before...

How much?

Let's just say I often attract 17-21 year old boys. A fact that causes me to shudder, stutter, and reel back in physical pain. I sometimes second guess everything I know about myself, left in a helpless wonder.

It's hard enough to meet boys, MEN my own age, let along pretend the ones that do admire from afar, or the ones that do gawk up close, or the more silly ones that spew poetic words trying to reel in a cheap catch, don't exist.

It's just the right one I don't see yet.


But back to looking younger-

The fountain of youth has been ever kind to me. I think it's in every fibre of me, to tell you the truth. My sister often asks me when I'm going to dress my age - I don't know what she means? My mother constantly hopes I'll wear flowery dresses and conform to the staples of a prude librarian. We have very different taste.

When I'm alive, it's my body. When I'm dead - go to town.

I just came back from seeing John Taylor at a book reading. A book about his life in three parts. It was so awesome to see him: so happy, so content. He made me smile, just him being there, seeing him well and full of life.

There are some people who will always be a part of your life, no matter what. Sometimes they don't even know it, and I don't mean in a psycho, stalker sort of way, which I have also experienced and would never wish on anyone. But in a way where there's much respect and admiration/adoration. Adoring someone is a nice feeling.

I've adored few people in my life, and those people never change.

Now back to shedding-

And when I am grey and old. A time when I will no longer admit a birthday has passed. Bestowed in bland conservative slacks and a proper blouse to cover my naked frame. I will be dead.

But before this tragic day should arrive, I will continue to wear my fav rock shirts. I will listen to music loud and skip around the city in busted chucks. I will flirt and laugh with strangers, which I do just cause it comes naturally. I will enjoy my cupcakes and dream, and continue to write scripts that will one day be noticed. And lastly, I will continue to be my undying self, cause myself is something that has no monetary value. I will never be bought.


Never shed.

Food Sucked. Long Tracks

Nothing is more tragic than when food tastes bad.
Nothing hurts more than tired feet after a hard day.

My script is in the hands of a manager. The sixth written thus far. I'm ready to write the next one, but confused as hell about where my life is right now. I know but I don't know. It sucks to feel this way.

I'm exhausted, so exhausted that I can't make simple decisions. I have no strength for reason, which may not be such a bad thing. Too much thinking is also exhausting.

A Question I'm grappling with right now: Should I try ADing? Many ADs have already asked if I'm in the union.

A part of me feels too old. Crazy, right? My body can't keep up with a 14+ hour day, yet I have no idea what else to do, no where else to go. A tragic circumstance that seems to follow my path in becoming a paid screenwriter.

I refuse to settle into anything that will hinder my writing. My own stubbornness freaks me out some days. My parents are very proud (putting up with me).

side note: Working along side someone with false pride, someone who reacts to fear like a firecracker, spilling out a gross bravado makes the day long. Just breathe. 

half a side note: Men and women aren't equal, not in every circumstance. The fact that I even have to answer this tells me how dim the light is.

When will something break? When will it all be worth it? When will the dry, parched ground drink the dew of what was promised long ago? A prayer raised long ago.

My patience, in this time of stubborn wait, has cemented deep roots. Though storms toss with fury, the trunk will never be breached.

side note: It's surprising how some men will speak, blurting out pea-sized thoughts. Their gauge and gaze totally off the mark. I look young for my age, a damn double-edged sword, so don't speak down to me like I'm a kid.

I have to follow-up with the manager. I'm scared as hell to do it. Scared to hear, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, it wasn't for us."

I should suck it up. Just hit send. But I'll give it a few more days. I know how many scripts managers have to peel though. I'd be sick to my stomach at the amounts they read. I just hope mine is worth the read.

So, that's been my life since Los Angeles. Working on a set, long hours, bad food - doing my wee part to keep the machine going.

I'm gonna give it a few days. Decide on the AD thing. I need to make moolah, and I'd rather AD than be an L.S.P. - my nails can't take it anymore.

Day 26 - Flabby Fibs

Toronto is a city where almost anything goes. Tall, small, thick, thin, rockers, hipsters, what have you.

Perhaps the same is true in LA. Perhaps: The land of lanky palm trees.

But are people (women) expected to follow a certain unattainable standard without some form of sacrifice. Food being such a sacrifice.

I'm not a size two. I range between a size 4-7 pending the label. But even within such limits, eyebrows (in LA) cock to the sky. Yeah, my ass is J-Lo'ish, which makes finding jeans a challenge. Many cuts are geared towards pre-pubescent boys.

In the 90s, the standard Supermodel size was 6. My how we've botched the size curve.

In LA people sneer, even putting down their own kin. Even putting down themselves while swimming in their size 4 frame.

"Too fat. Too thick. She'll never find anyone. Who would marry her? Who would marry me?"

I'm not used to such talk.

Where did such truths begin? It's a BIG FAT LIE!!!

The quality of a person has little to do with the measure of their waistline. A waste of truth sold to the flabby size 4, sick to the stomach, an empty stomach, wishing to be double 00.

My parents could have remained in LA, back when I was a wee palm tree in the making. But they opted for Canada - Land of the free to think and be whatever the heck you want without someone pushing a size standard down your throat.

Thank goodness for that.

I could've been like so many, weighted beneath the shame of curves and having a booty women pay/pray for.

There's this messed up show, a mirror-mimic of Jersey Shore. Instead of Italians, it's Koreans. I can't tell you how many Koreans are reeling. Many refuse to give it attention.

It's only avail on Youtube.

So, in Ep. 2, there's this lame, drink tossing, fight between two girls. Two thin girls. Thin girl #1, a double 00, says to Thin girl #2, "Why are you fat? Asian girls are supposed to be thin/skinny" something crazy like that.

So breeds the flabby insanity.

Day 23 - Tunnel Vision

There's a lens that follows you all your life. Sometimes you're not awake to see it. But you can feel it - on your back, neck and shoulders. Burrowing away.

A road less paved, covered in thorns, rocks and cracks, firms up the sole (soul). The lens grows wider.

The lens of others should have no bearing. No sight for you to see. It's none of your business what they see. To never be guided by the blind. Let them walk and see whatever they wish - just never justify yourself, especially to people who refuse to see anything else.

But it's easier said then done. That's the tuff part. You can't stride on a rocky road. You're more likely to climb.

Best to dust of the feet with every step. Dust off the weight from sleepy eyes. Dull eyes. Eyes that have no vision at all.

Again, it's hard to ignore those eyes. They're freakin' everywhere. Words may not speak, but the eyes say plenty.

Some eyes speak more than others.

I'm growing tired of a few eyes.

Movin' on.

Day 20 - Just "nice".

Someone said "he's a nice guy". I replied, "oh, good. I like nice people."

Maddening me
Sits in a tree
Wants to be
Someplace else

I can do a bad ramble when bored. When confused even. It's either that or I become silent. To steer conversation away from the dull rub.

I can't bear a quiet table. I'll fill it. Even if I'm unimpressed. I'm Canadian. We're polite that way. Especially when circumstances make it so leaving, questioning, being a down right b**h is not an option.

So I met a fellow writer. I love meeting writers who enjoy the craft. I feel less alone and afraid of the big bad world when I know someone else feels the same way I do about the process. How freakin' awful it can be sometimes. How incredibly lonely it can be. How shameful it can be, to be in the endless stage of never feeling like you're getting ahead while all your friends are living a "normal" life filled with kids, in-laws, mortgages and a 9-5 job that brings an acceptable level of contentment.

He spoke. In a manner that I wasn't sure if he was mocking me or if he just spoke that way. You can only assess that when seeing him speak to others. He kept using my name in sentences when asking questions, ie: "So, Betty-Boop, why did you decide to do that?"

I thought nothing of it the first time, but by the third time he used it he was clearly giving me the hint that he doesn't engage with women often. 

Side note: I always retain jewels of wisdom that my friends drop. Like this guy Mark I knew long back. He lived by a code: Never reveal more than you have to, especially when it has to do with your life.

Mark was huge into conspiracies which made our conversations so much fun.

I always keep Mark's wisdom for life in mind. He's very smart, Cute Mark. But yesterday I was off the Mark.

Like I said. I was kinda bored, not getting a clear picture of the person sitting in front of me. Bored.

But that was yesterday. Today is 4:05am. Los Angeles time.

And in this town where people say they know people, cause that's just the ramble people gamble in day-to-day talk. I'll eventually find a soul that speaks truth, writes, is comfortably human, and more than just "nice".

Day 14 - No Aplogies

Truth is a funny thing, cause what may be true at one time may become something very different down the line.

Truth can sometimes be a lie.

I don't know what LA will bring this time around. I don't even know how I feel at the moment. Well, maybe I do know...I just don't want to turn the page. Some words from the past are coming to light. Words I never shared.

Tone speaks in waves, more than any amount of words. And I'm not here to justify truths/untruths. That's not the point for this vacation.

Truth-truth comes out in time. Always.

I need to focus on other things. Not untruths I have no control over.

**It's a constant battle. To know thyself. It never ends. Stretching aches the bones, leaving their mark. Scars and wounds need time to heal. Another layer of skin on top of another. Grace before pride. Grace before anger. More Grace needed. Much more** Paranoia swallows all rational. Gut screaming. Or is it a lie? That truth that will come out in time.**

In truth, people change. It's funny how people put one another in a box. They're comfortable with that box. You're safe in there. Figured out. No thinking required. Why change?

But people change.

Years pass on. If lucky, wisdom adds on. To know thyself better within the growing pains. 

side note: I'm more comfortable with who I am now than 5 years ago. Shit makes better sense after time. I may come off bitchy, sure. I say what I mean. I don't sugarcoat anything. But I'm not hard...I think? 

No apologies.

My family keeps pestering me about marriage. That I should be married. That it's time.

The gatekeepers of TIME have spoken. Lightening bolt thunders down.

What do you say other than the oh-so-obvious truth: Haven't met the person to trust my heart with.

That simple.

But you do want to get married, don't you?  They ask, trying to figure out my answer before I've spoken.

Of course.

It's not that urgent for me, you see. Having kids is not that urgent. This world is a dang-crazy-place to live in. I'd be frightened to have children.

I'm not here to please.

No apologies.

Day 10 - Breaking

So many unrealized plans churned, but not. How do you plan what you can't see?

Been spending time with family. So much more family to visit. So very thankful for them. But time is ticking fast. I'm breaking goals here.

LA observations thus far: the men here are different from Toronto. They actually smile at you here. They don't cower and observe in minuscule glances, saying what they don't mean. Though I haven't met every man in Los Angeles.

It's refreshing.

Boldness is eye-catching.

hint: all women love boldness. it's how we weed out the boys from the men.

Right now, at this moment, I don't know what I want...it's early: 6:30 am

Sleep was bad, the bed too creaky.

hint: Ikea beds suck. Invest.

Not enough food in my belly. It's not my kitchen, my fridge - that's days away. Been eating out almost everyday. I don't know any healthy eats in Los Angeles where it won't break the bank - In and Out Burger X 3, people repeat with meaty enthusiasm. I just nod with smile.

Perhaps I'll eat it, love it, and live off it till I fly back. If I fly back. Friends and family are asking whether I want to stay. I have no idea. I don't even know what I want to eat for breakfast.

Stuffing

Because she only knew this life
because she was told this is real
this is how it works
she smiled and hoped for more

Your prince is waiting for you
he'll sweep you off your feet
dazzle you with a mirage
a money tree grows in his yard

Lunch with friends
charge it
sit by the pool with a drink
bask beneath a cloudless sky

To belong
to be envied
to want nothing
but everything

When the well runs dry
dewy grass now brittle  
the line goes dead
it's easy to explain

The mirror does lie
don't stare too long
you'll begin to vanish
who the f*** is that?

Careful what you swallow
it stays with you
surfacing for all to whiff
Pride reeks

Your vision is sensitive
watch it
your heart is priceless
own it

nothing is worth diving off the cliff with all the rest

Day 2- Alive

I clapped when we landed.  I was the only one.

So it wasn't an overseas flight. I'm alive!

It amazes me still. The infinite wonder of how this world came to be.

Just how small we truly are when admiring it from a bird's eye view - and I'm on a plane, not on some spacecraft where from then on it's a totally unexplainable perspective.

The plane ride - jet fast.

The woman beside me...I don't even want to start. I feel for her children.

**********************************    Stepping off LAX     **********

Lanky palm trees.

A soft, comforting visual to hold still on. I missed them. It still smells the same. The sky hovering a crisp blue.

I'm so thankful for family.

There's the family where you could see them often and they feel like strangers, and family where you see them not often enough and it's safe and cozy from the instant you embrace with a hello.

That's my family in LA.

Lots of Latinos in K-Town. I may go for a walk in a short while, though I don't know what's open on the 4th of July.

Guess they're will be new people to meet. It's only Day 1.

No. Today is Day 2.

LA time: 8:08am

You Lose

Nice people finish very f**king last.

Maybe I have life all wrong. This could explain so much. Questions that have burned for years - the smoke still waiting to be snuffed out.

I was that good kid. Never liked when anyone was treated unfairly, unkindly or teased like a rabid animal.

side note: I'm sorry D.Kenny when my friends and I caged you between the wall and a hockey net, kicking you with eight pointy shoes. I still regret that to this day. Though I do recall it was for some kind of payback. But I still feel bad I contributed. 

But this niceness can sometimes feel like a curse. It's like this giant sign other people can see that you do not that reads "SUCKA". That's the plight of nice people. Other crappy people use it for their messed up, selfish as hell advantage.

When will truth rear its face to hold a mirror to those that tread on others without care.

Mindless a**holes. Talking s**t. Spewing s**t. Eating s**t. It must feel damn awesome to be you . Looking in the mirror - what the heck do you see? I'm curious.

See. I'm not one to defend myself when the lies start to pour down like a hail storm (happens to kind people). I don't play games and refuse to acknowledge crap. I walk away and allow fate/God/life to choose that precise moment for you.

I'm only in your face if you talk crap about a friend and I'm there to hear it. Then it's just you and me. And it don't matter, 5 feet - 6 feet - 10 feet tall - We're going to exchange words.

But back to being kind.

Yeah. It's a raw deal to be kind. It's in me though, like this natural breathing thing. But I'm considering shelving it for a while, just to see. Maybe I'll sleep on it. The morning may change this not so kind feeling.

And honesty is up there with being kind. Like twins, they travel conjoined. Sucks when people mistake a kind remark for something else. I just say what I mean without agenda. I lose nothing sharing compliments and encouragement.

I don't need you that way.

in the 90s

the dense halls rammed with hormones. everyone knows everyone. there's no place to hide.

you nestle into a flock, safe, but for how long? people are people, and these people still have yet to figure out who they are. some may never get there, trapped in a helpless wonder, never realizing the truth is easy to find when you welcome the comfort of silence.

the bell rings loud. legs run, jump, walk and panic through a sea of nameless faces. they all blur into one when you don't know a soul. they can also appear angry when you don't have a friend.

the person standing at the head of the room commands respect, but do they deserve it? so few are remembered, and many have forgotten the reason they signed up for such a ride. a sicker few get caught in a fantasy - then come the bars. 

but it's a jungle, an amazon of people gathered in tribes, roaring in tribes, devoured by tribes. power and beauty stand out, held high on man-made pedestals. but it never lasts.

jocks, goths, preps, geeks, metal-heads, mods, pretty girls, studs, fobs, outcasts - they all have a place, and they know it. a small city crammed for hours and days, commanded to get along and live peaceably. dream on.

but the music rocked on - Lollapalooza screams to the masses - Mosh pits rule.



that's it, for now--

pt 2 The Small Door

Watching the door slam behind her, Alice looks to her feet where a path begins. It ends down a narrow stretch to a darkly wooded forest gate. The beastly roar of snarling and snapping wild animals sound, they beckon her to come join them.

"Alice...this way," clouded whispers twirl and dance by her side.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her quakes, rippling like a wave. She surfs above the gravel, then rolls forward before coming to a stop. Standing to her feet, she dusts off her dress. 

"Come my child, this way," a soft voice calls from within the forest.

"Me?" she points to herself, looking over her shoulder for another.

She then notices that the door she entered from has vanished and everything else with it. The backs of her feet are standing a hairline away from endless drop into nothing. Alice shrieks, losing her balance. She falls backwards.

Arms flailing, she tries to grab hold of anything, but there's nothing. The rushing wind
screams in and around her ears as she quickly descends. She watches, horrified, as her tresses get knotted and released, braided then let loose. They even play a round of double-dutch with the wind.

"Someone, please, help me! Please!" her plead soars up with equal speed from which she falls. 

Alice searches for the ground, anything. Anything to stop this frightening drop. Suddenly, her shoulders lift and she's carried upwards. A multitude of brightly coloured swallows bring her up to the surface, placing her in the exact spot before the fall. The birds sing sweetly flying back into the dim forest.

Alice catches her breath, she grips the solid ground, fingertips shaking. She looks to the drop behind her, then to the unknown in front of her. Standing to her feet she motions forward. The wooded gates part erupting the baleful echoes of the forest. Alice swallows dry and steps in.
   

Me First

Everything comes at a price. Right?

The pavement hasn't changed, but the people walking on it has. Tunnel vision alley, but that's okay - It's all about me, baby!

I cried today cause it's getting harder to see this life with human eyes. There's pain everywhere - it doesn't matter what's in the bank, what you have, who you are or who the world says you are --

Shhh... The question period has ended.

The constant buzz keeps us numb - buzz from whatever helps distract from reality. The cold hard truth. What matters. What money can't buy. That one day we all have something to account for.

The mirror is an opposite reality of what is - the other side of us that only we (the sole watcher) knows.

Motives bleed in time. The truth behind a smile, a word...sometimes friendship. I have friends in their 80s. I'm so thankful for them. I wouldn't know true kindness without such people - I would probably grit my teeth believing that the world is truly unkind and full of greed, which much of it is. I hate that cold, hard fact.

Me first. You last. Me now. You never. Me-me. Who are you?

Wandering-Wondering

Because in this life, it's all supposed to make sense.
There are no mistakes.
There aren't people that will use you for their gain.
And good will always prevail.

The path is never too long when it leads to love.
But how do you know the love is right?
Sometimes love isn't right.
Sometimes love needs to lie down and die.

Words are good when strung properly.
Kind words Rock; Loving words Rule; "I'm sorry" goes a long way.
A wise teacher will teach how to speak properly.
The root of a spoken word is planted in the heart.

Things, waste, stuff...means very little when measured on a scale.
A good heart is priceless - forgiveness is priceless too.
Greed and fear will choke a heart to stop beating.
Better to take a deep breath first, all the time.

** In weeks time I will take a deep breath. In weeks time I will have to find the right words. I will likely have to forgive and move on. Cause life rarely writes mistakes, the only mistake is to disregard and not learn. But one thing I know for sure...Good does prevail. Always.

Women Don't

Hey boy. Your pants are on fire. The wolf has run out of its cave. It races for the den of sweetened lambs. Footprints on fire.

Drop those sugary words. Sell it. Sell yourself. Hot stuff. You, Man of buttery steel.

I see through you. I do. Many do. Pooh on you. Be careful, someone's watching.

Enlighten me with honesty. If you dare. Take the high road, if your muscles can take the climb. Oh, by the way, you're knees are shaking.

Girls scare easy. Women don't.

Go on. Chase those skirts. Embrace deep conversations about Jimmy Choo shoes and Jersey Whores.

eeny, meeny, miney, moe -- I hate games.

As my friend Natalie says, "I cross you out!"