Collecting Loneliness

My eyes are each moons, only reflecting the light unable to shine on their own.  My tears as they slide pick up all the little pieces of dust left on my cheeks from neglect.  My breath is the stale breeze trapped in a room with no windows doomed to be pushed around and around by the rusted blades of a fan propped up against the wall.

Seat-Filler: Part Two

Oh. My. God!  Did you ever think you could get so tired from sitting on your tush and being excited?  By the end of my most recent "Audience Gig" as I like to refer to them, my butt hurt, my back hurt, I was starving, dehydrated, and totally mind-blown.  My attention span was shot.  Driving was laborious.  I spent a half hour in the suntan lotion aisle at Rite-Aid; I couldn't decide if I wanted self-tanner or SPF 50.  

 I had just sat in a metal folding chair for 81/2 hours clapping and cheering, watching people win money, the super annoying warm-up guy grating on my nerves.  Usually on a day that long we get a walk away lunch which is a polite way of saying, "Pay for that crap, yourself!", but not on this occasion.  We had a lunch "break" which was 15 minutes long, leaving me not even enough time to walk back and forth from the parking garage let alone get anything to EAT!  The vending machines weren't taking my five dollar bills leaving me alone with my hunger.  I had already devoured my half bagel I packed for the morning.  Growing faint, I slowly ate the last of my handful of grapes I had in  my purse.  

I have definitely learned after the first time I did this to pack SOMETHING!  You will always get hungry.  My first Audience Gig, I did not eat or even drink coffee before the show because I was so keyed up about getting to the studio on time and finding my way.  A few hours in I was fading fast.  I developed a terrible caffeine headache and was irritable and weak by lunch.  I couldn't think straight, I desperately tried to find somewhere to get coffee and food but I didn't know the area and what restaurants were around,  So I stopped at this gas station, got a bad little sandwich left in the heater from breakfast and some cola, which did not cure my caffeine headache and I ended up suffering through the rest of the day. 

Seat-Filler: Part One

Have you ever seen in a movie or a television show where the scene in the background suddenly gets picked up and moved away?  Its funny because at first you think it's real and then you realize you have been fooled.  Ah, life in Hollywood.  Tricky, tricky...

You know, watching television talk shows or game shows, I never even thought that people just didn't go for fun.  Don't they line up outside and wait in the rain or blasting heat just to get inside to watch a taping.  Did I ever think you could make this your part time JOB? 

That's right, folks, I am a member of the privileged, oh-so respected class of people they like to refer to as "seat-filler."  Myself, along with a hundred of my closest colleagues get to dress up, stand in lines, (yes, in the blasting heat) and then sit for hours upon hours without being fed, allowed to go to bathroom, clapping, cheering and acting excited.  But, you get paid.  CASH.  Who ever THOUGHT?

I have seen some crazy sh*t, too!  A certain golf player's highly publicized mistress, marriage proposals, a Jonas brother, perfect strangers sharing their most intimate secrets.  I have made friends with the people sitting around me, at least for that day.  I have laughed.  I have cried.  One show about cheating in relationships was so heart-wrenching I actually fought back the tears much to my own embarrassment.  And of course every time they surprise the game show contestant with their mother who "couldn't make it" before I get all dewy eyed.  Is this me being too emotional, getting too attached?  I think not... entirely.  I mean these are people like you and me.  It's a human experience.  As one host says, "It's not a game show, it's a life-changing show."  

I've come to enjoy watching game shows live way better than on TV.  At home, never watch 'em.  But as much as my a*s hurts at the end of the day from those terrible folding chairs, I keep going back.  Just one of the herd. 

Baby Gotta Get Me That Money

Being in Los Angeles there is such a broad spectrum of wealth.  There could be a person sleeping on the sidewalk w/o a penny to their name with a hundred thousand dollar car parked right in front of them.  Drive down Santa Monica Blvd and you will see wholesale shops, trash on the streets, crazies yelling at bus stops.  Then a few blocks down you will see boutiques with a pair of ripped up jean shorts priced at $300 in the window, valet'd coffee shops, custom vintage car dealers.  There are things to spend money on everywhere here.  Luxury doggie boutiques where your pooch can get only the best massage and gourmet chef-prepared treats.  Private villas you can rent when you come to visit.  Wining, dining, spas, diamonds, valet, penthouses, the art-deco Spanish style houses up in the Hollywood Hills, it is all here. 

I like to think I live pretty simply.  Or at least I try.  I thrift store shop for clothes.  I'm not ashamed of picking furniture up off the street.  I buy whatever vegetables are in season.  But is it only out of necessity?  Being around so much money makes me want things.  Makes me want to do things.  I long to lounge by a sparkling pool with a glass of champagne in one hand and a plate of cherries and gourmet cheeses on the table beside me.  I drool over a shiny custom El Camino (okay not exactly what you would call a "luxury" car) and my head turns at a window filled with lit-up crystal chandeliers. 

I've lived in the country.  It was easier to not want money so bad.  I was content with driving around in my beat up Camry, picking up groceries at Aldi's and trading in my clothes at the local vintage shops.  That left just enough money to go to movies pretty frequently and out to eat/drink quite a bit.  Now that rent is twice as much as what we used to pay for half the space, I've had to step it up.  I've been hustling since I got here, I'm proud to say.  But it is not easy.  Once I get a little more into my career I'm sure I will make more money.  Pay my bills on time.  But then there is that question:  Will I be able to ever make enough?  Is enough ever enough? 

It will hard to strike that balance between not wanting so much and staying happy.  Must remember: money doesn't buy happiness, money doesn't buy happiness.  But it sure does buy a good time!

Screaming My Youth Away

After riding roller coasters all day at Six Flags Magic Mountain for my boyfriend's 30th birthday I was bedraggled, windswept, exhilarated and exhausted. I was also struck with the question of whether riding roller coasters has an aging effect on my body or anti-aging? Adrenaline may make you feel younger but doesn't it have adverse effects because in it's very essence it is causing extra stress on your body? And stress, we know is bad, aka extra aging. But if you do things that make you feel younger don't you actually live longer? But then there is the fact that just because you live longer doesn't mean you are not aging any faster.

It might be true that people who are major adrenaline junkies tend to not live as long as their placid non-thrill seeker neighbors. But for their shorter lives do their bodies age slower or faster b/c of the natural high? And I think the statistic about death rate is b/c they die more frequently in accidents and that they are generally more reckless in other areas of their life. It seems to me that those who seek out adventure would be more youthful. So.... is there a correlation between aging and adrenaline? Between being mentally adventurous and anti-aging? Can adrenaline be a good stress? Being scared produces adrenaline. But wait, isn't being scared bad? How much of this natural drug is too much??

So did I gain any extra wrinkles because of my theme park adventure? I can't tell. I did get a sunburn which we KNOW is anti-aging, so I guess we will never really know.