Little Angelino

made at sleepingpalace

I've given in and started a second blog on vox.com.

http://dancedancedance.vox.com

It will be similar to this blog, because it will be what I've been trying to gear this blog towards. I'm going to make all future posts in livejournal friends only and it will be the place where I allow myself to ramble, so I won't be abandoning livejournal completely.

My vox blog will chronicle my experiences as a Los Angeles woman working in the film industry.

About a week ago, I nicked myself shaving. I had run out of nice disposable razors, so I was using a razor that my roommate had gotten from Rite Aid for free. It was a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, just before I was supposed to go out on the town, just before I was going to see the guy that I sort of have a crush on, who treats me so horribly. You know, the guy you can't help but notice is staring at you while he's kissing his new girlfriend on the nape of her neck. That guy. I've got one of those, or... should I say HAD one of those (those guys are like a drug addiction for me... I don't want to flirt with them and I always promise myself that THIS will be the last time he gets to hold my hand like that or stare at my boobs like that... but it feels really good to be wanted in such a carnal way).

Needless to say, I should have been more careful with my unshaven legs. I should have gotten a fancy razor. I should have saved up enough money for a waxing. But I didn't. I was in a rush, didn't have any money, and in my excitement, nervousness, wetness and carelessness in getting a crap razor, I nicked myself on the ankle. Twice. Two little wounds right next to each other, like a tiny vampire bite.

It wasn't all that bad over the course of the evening. I even told that guy that treats me horribly to stop looking at me the way he was. I even stopped looking at him when he'd look at me. I even said to myself, knowing that I looked gorgeous with my closely shaven legs, "Ha Ha! Look at what you can't have! You can go ahead and want it, but you can't have it!" All that night, I was doing well.

My little nicks were doing well, too. They were doing well, until the cold, dry weather started taking its toll. The little cuts became itchy. So I scratched.

Late at night, I would sit half asleep in my bed, and I would be scratching my ankle, thinking about that guy and how I wish that he didn't mention to me in very scandallous ways (with whispers and texts) that he wants to sleep with me. I'd scratch at my ankle and I'd wish that he'd get to know me, comfort me, make me laugh, laugh at me and tell me to stop scratching my ankle because a nick will become a scratch will become a gigantic sore. And that would mean that he loves me, if only he told me to stop scratching.

And fucking don't you know it. I have to go home tonight and clean my wound with hydrogen peroxide, put neosporin on it and a big gigantic band aid on my ankle because I've got these red, swollen skid marks now that used to be tiny little nicks.

While I was wishing someone else would care enough about me to tell me to stop scratching, I should have just stopped scratching.

I have been wearing a heavy army green coat with a fuzzy lining every day for the past week. The one day that I did not, I suffered for it. I'm wearing a scarf right now and it's helping. I wore boots to work yesterday, and felt so claustraphobic in them. Instead of wearing boots today, I decided to wear my flats, but didn't have any good socks to go with them. I think I got some mild frost bite on my toes because of it. Maybe not frostbite, but I couldn't feel my feet.

I forgot how cold this desert city can get. It's a stupid kind of cold because it's no where near snowing, even though we all think it should be.

Tonight, my bed will be a block of ice until I get in it and cover myself with blankets and sweaters, and shiver for about two minutes until my body heat is transferred to the sheets. Then I will fall into a restless sleep until I wake up frozen the next morning. Then I will refuse to get out of bed because it's so cold, finally grow some balls and follow through, jump out of bed run across the cold hardwood floors to the bathroom, turn on the hot water, undress as quickly as I possibly can, take a hot hot hot hot hot hot hot hot shower, and hope that the heat can last me through the next half an hour as I get dressed and ready to go to work.

Beverly Hills and West Hollywood are kind of beautiful during this time of year. In Beverly Hills, everyone dresses. That's what happens when weather changes, people dress for it. The men are wearing suede jackets over baby blue sweaters, or dark coats over their three piece suits. The women are wearing scarves and dying their hair dark brown, black and auburn and sweeping their bangs in conservative styles. Summer is letting your hair down and letting it breathe, and winter is holding it in and up, keeping it warm. Everyone still wears shades... It is still, after all, Southern California. West Hollywood is dressed up in Christmas lights. The dark Troubadour is framed by delicate fairy lights lining the streets. Art supply stores look so much more intriguing. It just seems to be the weather for staying in and painting.

I wish I had time to paint. I wish I had time for this weather. I want to spend time dressing in layers, bundling up, waking up slowly so as not to lose my body heat. I just dont' have time, though. And I don't have money. It's hard to appreciate the charm of the season when you're pretty broke.

Apparently, there are several different types of people. You can categorize them in different ways. Some people categorize themselves as Virgos and Libras, or Boars and Tigers. Some people categorize themselves as introverts or extroverts. And some people are numbers. There's this personality test that my coworkers were taking. I didn't take it, but they were talking amongst themselves about the results.

Lily: I'm DEFINITELY a 1 type person.

Nic: I'm more of a 1, too.

Lily: Oh man, but I'm definitely not a 2. DANCER is a 2.

I thought for a minute that she was talking a bunch of shit, but 2 type people are kind, sensitive, generous. ;)

Here are some tidbits:

The Caring, Interpersonal Type:
Generous, Demonstrative, People-Pleasing, and Possessive
Basic Fear: Of being unwanted, unworthy of being loved
Basic Desire: To feel loved
Enneagram Two with a One-Wing: "Servant"
Enneagram Two with a Three-Wing: "The Host/Hostess"

You can find the rest of my profile here or you can take your own.

I'm not a very tough person. Nor am I any kind of delicate flower, so I won't wilt very easily. Today, you made me tread the boundaries of what I'm capable of. I suppose every day has given me some sort of test, especially recently. But you really pushed the envelope of tough days that I have experienced.

You started off lucky. It was after 8 am and I was parked at a meter, but I didn't get a ticket. The drive to work was decent. But then, your claws started to come out when I realized that a very important package that I had to send to my boss didn't reach her, and so... that began the first of our fuck ups together. Then our computers had an entire fucking melt down. I lost a bunch of information and had to restore it manually, essentially by memory. I don't think you understand what a task this was. Much of you, and each day that I live is a valuable one, so this is a pretty big deal, much of you was wasted on restoring this information. I essentially lost a day, I lost you and tomorrow because of the fuck ups that we shared.

So this letter is bittersweet. Thanks for not killing me... I'm probably smarter and stronger now for it. But please... Can you tell all future days not to be so horrible to me? I'm not a very bad person. There might be some ex boyfriends that disagree, but I think deep down I'm good. Ease up a bit, will ya? I'm still learning how to do this... life thing.

My new roommate, Xtina and I spent most of the day looking for things to make our apartment home. As great a roommate as Kelly was, neither she nor I ever really saw each other at home when we finally got jobs. So the place was left abandoned for most of the time, except when we had those legendary parties. Now, Xtina and I hang out a lot more and I've finally noticed that the living room was looking sad and downtrodden.

So... To IKEA we went and we purchased wine glasses and martini glasses, a few tree shaped decorations and christmas ornaments. We wiped down most of the counters and put everything in proper places. The real cleaning will take place on Sunday, and that will be the big challenge, but the preliminary wipe downs have already occured and the chairs and couches have been rearranged a little. I bought a cheap video game set, where you can plug in a controller into the TV and get to play all these old school Nintendo games. I'm once again addicted to Super Mario. Fuck the new WE. I'm all about Tetris, and Tekken (what a horrible game) and Super Mario. It's starting to feel really comfy.

We set up the trees on the mantle above the fireplace, or what used to be a fireplace before the chimneys or whatever were cemented off. We hung the silver ornaments on the little branches and set up candles alongside them. I've turned off the lights now and lit the candles, and it looks really charming.

I've even rearranged my bedroom. The bed now takes up most of the space, but it looks more symetrical now and even inviting. The desk is less prominent and I can look out the window as I type on my computer. Just now I decided to take my work computer into the living room just to appreciate the growing ambience. Kelly left a lot of things behind, which I still need to pay her for.

This place is starting to feel like home again. There was a period of transition that I've never really had time to get over. Now... Now that I'm poor again... I have a bit of time to reconstruct my living space with Xtina.

I feel like my life is undergoing another phase. 2006 is closing down and 2007 is just around the corner. 2006 has been really good to me and I'll be sad to see it go. Still a month and a half left, though. Better make it memorable.

One of my friends made a toast last night. It was during a Power Hour in which every two minutes, a shot of Boones would be consumed, and before doing so, a toast was made. So... in the middle of the ridiculous debauchary (which I did not take part in, thank you), my friend Ben said, "To this small family that we have made here." It was very touching. And then he threw back that shot of Boones, Blue Hawaiian flavor.

I'm very homesick. This weather reminds me of the Big Island when it rains - only without the rain. I miss my mom and the gigantic family dinner we have, that always includes, on top of two turkeys, sushi, crab, shrimp, wonton, chow mein, fried rice, and desserts, desserts, desserts. And the next morning, the sky is clear all the way from the mountains to the ocean. It smells like dew when you sit outside on the patio.

An uncle of mine recently passed away. He was a large part of those parties. He would always say the same things to me: "Your grandpa, he would be so proud of you, you know. You remember when we were building tha house, and my granddaughter and you, you would go play underneath the stairs?" He was my grandfather's best friend, so whenever I'd see him, he would always remind me of my grandfather. My uncle died in very much the same way as my grandfather. Cancer and pneumonia.

My family has changed in so many ways. I suppose it would be immature of me to wish that it could always be like it was when I was 11. Now I have new families. And those will change over time, but they are here. We have thanksgivings together, we make jokes together. We feel like ourselves together. I'm not entirely sure if that's what families are all about, but I'll take it.

Women have wanted to have sex with Rob Lowe for the last 20 years. Since 1986. Maybe before then. Maybe for the entire expanse of my lifetime, people have been wanting to have sex with Rob Lowe.

I know it's wrong. I know it's dirty. I know he's an old old man, but GOD DAMN it. He just came into the office and by golly, I want to have sex with him. Maybe it's because my first real introduction to his body of work was through Waynes World, one of my favorite movies of all time. And maybe his features are a little cold and snake-like. But what the fuck. Big movie star. I'm a hungry assistant, just an average single girl, with no attachments.

I'm entitled to my fantasies, while I sit on my ass and snack on pepporoni and chocolate pudding just getting fatter and fatter, so much so that when I smile flirtatiously at him, all he can see are a pair of two squinty eyes peering from the layers and layers of skin that I have accumulated while typing away at my stupid calendar. Stupid. Fat. Stupid.

Sigh. If only a sex machine like Rob Lowe could see past the pathetic assistant-ness into the heart of the bombshell that I really am.

I got to go to my first premiere ever on Sunday of Happy Feet. One of my friends who works at Village Roadshow invited me as his "Plus One." I could not have been more excited. I've been wanting to see this movie forever, and it was just serendipity that I got to go to its premiere. I was happy just to be invited, but it gets better.



The Mann's Chinese Theatre is the place where all the celebrities have their handprints and footprints embedded in cement. I had never been there before. We walked up along side it and got our tickets. Then we walked along the white (not red) carpet and there were tap dancers serenading everyone as they passed by. It was pretty impressive.

Then you walk into the theatre, and it just feels so Old Hollywood. And in the lobby, popcorn and drinks spread out before you... FREE. FREE FOR THE TAKING.

And then the movie was awesome. Nicole Kidman was sitting somewhere in the theatre. And Robin Williams, Hugh Jackman, and Elijah Wood. I didn't see any of them and it's a good thing. We all know how I get with celebrities... CRAZY. The animation was so charming and wonderful, the story was great, the music was awesome. I want to learn how to tap dance now.

And THEN there was the afterparty, where booze, food, candy and games were free. I got free shwag, which included a blue beanie and goldfish crackers. There was a big pile of crushed ice - I guess that was supposed to be snow because all the kids were throwing it at each other. there was ice cream and cake and smoothies. Anything your heart desired. Even a rock climbing wall. I kept trying to look for my boyfriend, Elijah Wood, but he was nowhere to be found. Probably a good thing, because you know how I get with celebrities... STALKER.

The strange thing was that, as I was sitting down with a group of people that I didn't really know, everyone kept talking about how great a party it was in this really jaded way. "Oh, but the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory party was AWESOME," someone said. "I went to this other party, it was pretty cool." "Oh yeah, you remember that other party?" It just seemed odd to me that we were at this crazy cool event and the topic of conversation was how it measured up against other cool events. That was a big Great Gatsby type of moment for me.

All in all, if I had to pick any movie I would have wanted to be my first premiere, this would be the one. It was perfect.