“S’OK,” she said, regaining her composure. She turned to get onto the 405 Freeway and I knew to be quiet while she did so. “Let’s just head to Santa Monica and chat, yeah?”
“That sounds so nice,” I finally breathed. “Thank you.”
“Alright, don’t worry about it. You’ll know when you’re ready,” she said and rested her curls on my shoulder.
She and I talked the rest of the night on the beach, with no boys, no flirting and a bottle of wine. It was just right.
By the time I got home, the beach had covered me with wonderful sandy feet and a musty smell. Sam and I hadn’t stopped laughing. The wine felt so nice going down, and I was happy I hadn’t driven since not having my car in the morning was not a happy option. I fell asleep in all my beachy clothes, and by the time the alarm rang, I wasn’t ready for the weekend to be over. I certainly wasn’t geared up for the charity event that was less than two hours away. Yes, I loved charity, but I was so tired and stressed out from helping another woman live her life.
***
“Where are my pants? Jesus Christ, this is not good,” I said out loud. I was becoming quite accustomed to speaking to myself. With so much alone time, it’s no wonder. It helped keep my thoughts in order. I rummaged through the heap at the bottom of my closet. I swore I had carefully planned my outfit and had made sure it was on top of the pile. Now, it was nowhere to be seen. I looked around the rest of my room, frantic. The charity event started in less than twenty minutes, and I had never been late for Tess. I wasn’t quite sure how she would react, and I didn’t want to find out. She was not pretty when she was angry.
I dropped to the ground and feverishly searched under my bed, hoping somehow this would help my pants to appear.
Nothing. Fuck it, I thought. I yanked my staple black dress down off the hanger. Tess had already seen me wear it a hundred times before, but nothing could compete with her Vera Wang evening dress anyway. Just this once I had wanted to wear something that cost a LOT of money. Just this once.
I sucked in my tummy and threw on the frock. It was a staple, but a boring staple at that. It certainly wasn’t the ensemble I was hoping to impress anyone with. I hoped to God Tess was too busy to notice my outfit. God knows what sarcastic comment she would throw my way.
Couldn’t I just be acting instead of doing this drudgery? Is that what I wanted? What the fuck did I want?
***
I got home that night exhausted. Tess took me out to the side of the ballroom, and screamed at me for misrepresenting her “brand” - whatever that meant. I was so shell shocked that the only thing I knew to do was to grab my purse, and put on my red lipstick. My lips were now stained, and apparently my teeth were too, or so one of the hostesses told me after I had greeted at least 100 guests. Despite all that, I gathered up the energy to clean the rest of my room once again. It kept me sane. I put the sliding door back on its hinges and tidied up the clothes pile. I shook the beach clothes outside my door, and remembered the paper that Sam had given me the other night. I reached into my pocket. There was her note.
It couldn’t do any harm to go on the website and see what this woman was about. After all, I was never one to shy away from these types of challenges. My mother always told me everything happens for a reason, but I had yet to believe it. An open mind, I needed an open mind.
I immediately judged her. Crystal looked like an over-plucked, hyper-buff android, baked in the sun. She had bleached blonde hair, bleached teeth and had probably bleached the whites of her eyeballs. Her breasts looked fake, and she wore a bright pink top. How could I trust anyone who wore bright pink? I looked at her again. Maybe she wasn’t sooo robotic-like. Perhaps she just hired a really bad make-up artist and colorist. Her eyes sparkled. She did look in good shape, really good shape and oh, she used to weigh over 250 pounds. That was quite an accomplishment, especially considering she looked not a hair over 112 pounds now.
Her modus operandi was healing women, losing weight, and clearing up past fears, changing one’s views on life and ridding the ghosts of one’s past. My past had many, many ghosts. Of course I was skeptical. My feelings were that any sane person should be dubious of anyone who claimed to heal, in any way shape or form. Even doctors. Doctors never cleared up my acne as a teenager, so what good were they?
Before I entered in my account details, I picked up my phone. I flicked through the contacts and pulled up the number I had been avoiding for the last month. I remembered the last few days. I really had progressed. This had been one of the most successful and happy weeks of my life. I couldn’t spoil that. I firmly pressed “delete”.
I dug in my heels that week and started the course with 500 other anonymous women worldwide. Crystal conducted the course over the telephone. She took us through soul-searching exercises mixed with panache and an inner wisdom I had only experienced a few times before.
I was not prepared for the downpour of emotions that washed over me every Wednesday evening. Regular therapy hadn’t worked on me. My facade was too carefully crafted, and I knew the words that the therapist had wanted to hear. In a few short weeks, the therapist figured I was healed. I certainly convinced her I was. No wonder I didn’t know how to work in a relationship.
If I’m sitting in front of someone assuming I can trick them into believing I am someone that I am not, then how can I ever be intimate? I can never be the person I present myself to be if I don’t believe I am that person, or if I don’t let my vulnerability show. Learning how to do that was what I wasn’t sure of.
Forced to sit alone in my apartment with just the telephone, Crystal and my angels, that massive rock I carried called pride had now transformed into fear, and all my bravado and strength evaporated. It was now palpably clear the amount of work I had to do on myself.
After each session my mind buzzed with clarity, I was finished my search and had it all figured out, only to realize as the sessions went on that I had nothing figured out. But knowing that I knew nothing was somehow more comforting than thinking I should know something.
Sam was right about one thing. This was exactly what I needed to be doing this spring, and not just for myself, but for all my relationships I held dear. Chelsea was coming in a few weeks. I wanted us to be as open as we could with each other.
Sunday, April 13th, 2008
Guy,
Well, you are handsome.
Wow. That is quite the story. I was worried about you like a silly schoolgirl and I’m so happy you made it back in one piece. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to have seen you again, and for purely selfish reasons, that would have sucked.
It sounds like your adventure has just begun. How the heck did you wade through waist deep snow? I mean I figured it was going to be tough from what I read about it online, but that is insane. How many people made it to the top? Did you get a picture of yourself up there? I have so many questions for you but maybe I’ll wait ‘til we can talk so you don’t have to type it all out. Congratulations!! That is so exciting.
Yeah, glad you were able to pretend this once that you beat me in blackjack…enjoy that victory because it won’t be happening again. Didn’t get you a t-shirt from the tax man but I did get an ugly plastic piggy bank and a nice return. Will be sure to send you the piggy bank when you have an address to send something to.
I have been thinking about you loads. So don’t worry. It was a two way street, that one.
Miles and Chelsea are writing a lot as well. She’s going through a really tough time right now, so I think it’s good for her to have someone to talk to.
Looking forward to hearing your voice.
I haven’t bought the ticket yet. Let’s figure out the exact dates over the phone. I really want to see you. It seems so far away, July. I just can’t believe I’ll be traveling hundreds of miles for someone I met for only 8 hours. How crazy is this?
I also can’t believe how chilly it is here. This is southern California. It’s supposed to be warm, and I’m wearing a
scarf and a hat.
Last night I went to bed at around 9:30 p.m. Those Jews sure know how to throw a party…my boss invited me to her family’s Passover Seder meal night. It was really nice of her, and I met some really interesting people. We had matzo ball soup, read the Torah, ate some noodle kugel, veal brisket and good red wine. I had a stepfather who was Jewish, so I’m practically one. Some of the songs I remembered as well. (When I was little, I thought Judaism was named after my mother, Judy.)
Woke up around 9 a.m. (12 hours of sleep, guess I was tired!), and looked at my unkempt apartment… I’m usually tidy…well, I try to be, at least. Let’s just say, I’m working on being tidy. OK, I’m lying completely - I’m a complete mess.
But, to be fair, I have not been home for very long at all this last week and opted to leave Hollywood for Long Beach. I’m watching my godfather’s dogs, and with the shit that’s hit the fan with the webisodes, I’m sick of LA at the moment.
He has such a nice house with a huge TV (I don’t own a television). Having one in a house is like a guilty pleasure. I wouldn’t be able to have a TV, I would never get anything done. I become absorbed into the television. Fire engines could be called, neighbors banging on my door, helicopters - the lot, and I wouldn’t notice while the TV was on. There is also a hot tub, and this cute little mini waterfall in the backyard. Very peaceful, and nice to get out of LA.
So, what are the people like on the tour? That’s cool you found that LA guy…we may know some of the same people, you never know. It’s really a small town when it comes down to it.
Well monsieur bel homme. Tu me manques.
Yay!! African safari here Guy comes!!! Bugs are very gross though, and lizards are ick. I probably would have screamed very loudly if I were you.
Answers:
1. If you could change one thing from your past what would it be? - I guess I would change having my Dad more in my life. That’s a tough question though because if I changed even just ONE thing, it would mean that I would be completely different, and he would have been a completely different person. And I like whom I turned out to be…plus, it might mean that I would never have met you.
2. Favo(u)rite flavo(u)r milkshake? - Vanilla definitely.
3. Favo(u)rite quote? - “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us…” ~ Marianne Williamson. I also just heard this fabulous one:
“Sell your cleverness and purchase bewilderment.” ~ anonymous
My questions for you that I’ll answer as soon as you answer them! How’s that for a switcheroo?
1. Did you notice that Chels and I were standing behind you for a couple of minutes before you came over to talk to me? What made you say hi? (I have a funny story about this that I’ll tell you when I see you.)
2. Describe your mom.
3. What’s your favorite sandwich?
Gros bisous, and how do you say sleep well in Swahili??
Del
P.S. My grandfather always used to say “TTFN” - didn’t realize it was British! xoxo
AGENTS
It was a week before Chelsea was coming to visit, and I was so freaking busy between work, Crystal’s course, and trying to find representation. After those conversations with Sam and the absolute need to get out of my job with Tess, I knew I couldn’t give up so easily on the career I had put my entire life into. Would I rather be someone else’s slave for my entire life, or follow something that had always been my passion? Sure, I had some doubts, but wasn’t that to be expected in pursuing a lifelong dream?
So, I hunkered down. There were so many places to start. However, the one card I had yet to pull was the one I should have pulled a long time ago.
I needed an agent.
So, I did what anyone would have done if a lot of people owed them favors for getting their clients in the casting door, and I called on those favors. When I worked in casting, I spoke to agents all over town most days. I was a professional and had never let my desire to become an actress interfere with my job, but now that I was no longer in casting, surely it couldn’t hurt to call those people?
I made the conscious decision that I didn’t hate asking for help. I mean, I did hate it, but I wasn’t going to allow myself to hate it. This was not morally wrong or in any way harmful to my reputation to call people whom I had helped out in the past to give me a hand in the present. People did it all the time. Right? The problem was that whenever I thought of people asking for assistance, I thought of creepy, saggy, bald men with sweat patches and suits that were way too big for them, sitting in a small office and holding one of those rotary phones with a computer from the early 90’s. Did I really want to be that guy?
I picked up the phone. Crystal told me that in order to lead an empowered future, I had to face my truth and my past. So, although my truth was leading me to a violent, opposing reaction to the phone, I had a feeling my ‘empowered future’ was not going to be happy with that.
It was irrational, but I threw the phone across the room. No matter how hard I’d tried, I could not dial a number or put the phone to my ear once said phone was re-picked up. I hated it I hated it I hated it. “No. No. Remember, Adele, you don’t hate it,” I told myself.
I closed my eyes and tried to re-envision that guy calling in those favors. What if that guy were actually a sexy goddess of a woman who knew what she wanted when she wanted it, wore gorgeous designer frocks that she never paid for, and sipped ginger tea in front of a log fireplace?
That could work. Yes, I liked that person who simply asked for an act of goodwill far better than the former one. I could imagine being her. I changed around the ideas that I had and re-created them as to how I saw fit. I forged ahead with the newly envisioned woman planted firmly in my mind’s eye, and picked up the phone off the floor. I dialed successfully this time.
Within an hour, I had three face-to-face interviews organized with talent agents.
***
“You’re a tough one, I gotta admit,” the first agent said, in his all-glass office. “You’re not a young ingénue anymore and you’re not Latina enough – especially with that color hair – to market in that direction.” My hair was just hideous; it needed a cut more than ever. I wasn’t surprised by his comment. I had tied it tightly back into a bun. I still hadn’t gone back in for another bleach treatment. “How am I supposed to sell you with pictures of you as a brunette?” he said. I saw his point.
“I have a photography session scheduled for this weekend, so I would get those to you right away. Plus, I have a black wig in case you need me as a brunette.” I felt my voice cracking, but I did my best upbeat impression.
“And, you have this edge about you that I can’t quite put my finger on,” he continued. “It’s not quirky, it’s not exactly tough-girl, but it’s more…how do I put this?” He paused. “Like you’ve been around the block.” I stared at him aghast. I quickly recovered, afraid of showing too much of my deck.
“I like to think I could play roles like a young Parker Posey, Juliette Lewis or that woman oh, what’s her name?” I said.
“Better think quick, no use stumbling your words in auditions,” he said. He leaned back in his chair, looking down his pointy, blackhead-free nose at me.
“You know, she’s on that show called…I can’t think of it, but do you get the idea with the other two?” I wasn’t going to let him deter me.
“I do. Unfortunately those type of roles come around once in a blue moon, and normally go to someone with many more credits than you have.” His soft, manicured hands grabbed my resume off the table, and he studied it. He leaned back in his chair again, looking between me and the resume. I had a few television parts and one lead in an independent film, but in this town, that didn’t count for much.
“We need someone who is more marketable,” he said. “As much as I enjoyed speaking to you over at the casting office….” Please don’t patronize me
. “Oh, and please make sure you let Mark know I said hi. He’s a character, isn’t he?” Not as much as you are. At least he’s genuine. He might have a comb-over, but he has integrity.
“I understand. Well, thank you for your time. If anything does come up, please keep my pictures, would you?” I delicately lifted myself up, pulling down my skirt, not wanting to expose too much of myself to him. I felt more bloated than usual. I looked like a school mistress with a straight black skirt and white button down shirt. I didn’t normally dress for interviews, and I’m sure he could tell. “I suppose you have no interest in watching my tape of my work?”
“Good luck, Adele,” he said. He ushered me out without even answering my question. I drove home shaking. I hadn’t bought a pack of cigarettes in over a month now, but I made a special stop at the Exxon off Franklin Boulevard on the way to my apartment.
I paced around my room with the fan blowing at full force, all the windows opened and smoked three cigarettes one after the other. They will not break me.
To push myself to make the other two meetings took a phone call with Sam, a session with Crystal and a long hike up Runyon Canyon. I was distraught, but I went. They will not break me.
The other two agents were about the same as the first. They were more interested in the people I had worked for than the future people they could get me to work with. They had no intentions of signing me, no interest in what talent I had or how they could further my career. They wanted to further their own. God, I didn’t want to become disillusioned, but I could feel myself slipping down. The final meeting left me so deflated, I questioned acting more than ever.
“I’ll discuss your tape with the other agents, and you’ll hear from us soon,” the third agent said. She wasn’t what I would expect an agent to look like, more like a soccer mom, but her words cut through me. “I would recommend not putting all your eggs into this one basket. Do you have any other talents or interests?”
“I’ve been doing this since I was eight years old. Of course I have other talents, but -”
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