As Mr. T always says...

I pity the fool!

April first, already?

It’s hard to believe that it’s April first already.  Let’s not even get into the fact this is another one of those bogus “holiday’s” or whatever you want to call it.  I am not a fan of  fools, April Fool’s jokes, pranks, wolf-crying, whatever you want to call it…I used to, back in the day…but now, not so much….why?  Well, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice….you’re good.  But chances are, I will never believe a word you say again.  (Pretty dramatic, huh?   Yes, yes it is,,,but it’s true.)

Personally I think this prank playing day is dumb.  Why?  Well, we all know the story about the boy who cried wolf..and I am not a believer in playing those cards in such a caviler manner.  It’s the law of crying bullshit to the point of where no one longer believes you…and with my path, the crazier of the stories…the truer they really are.  So I take extreme caution in making stuff up to get a rise out of people, because for me, all I have to do is look around and there is crazy everywhere….

Don’t believe me?  You be the judge….

Crazy #1 –

I was casually walking back to my house on Santa Monica Boulevard the other day when this man stepped out of a little boutique with his daughter, Pashmina.  (Huh….I get the desire to have a French sounding name to mystify your daughter, but Pashmina.  That’s a scarf.  Yes, it’s made out of cashmere; but nonetheless, it’s a fancy name for a fancy scarf.)  I digress. 

So this dude comes out of this building talking in a very outside voice “Pashmina, baby girl, come, Daddy is running so late and we still need to get you to the nail salon…Pashy, comeeee baby…”  And in my mind, I am thinking, Ah…this guy has a little girl that he’s taking to the nail salon and spending the day with her….and then I see his little girl.

                                   

I couldn’t fabricate this if I tried. (I was so excited to share this with you all.  I was like, NO ONE is going to believe this and I have got to blog about it.  But, mere words won’t do it justice….I need a photo.  How am I going to get a photo of Pashmina without seeming like I am a freak or rude.)  Thank God I think fast on my feet…I said, “Awww, what a precious little baby girl!  (literally having an internal battle with my face to contain it from busting out in laughter)  She is darling!  Oh, would you mind if I took a photo of your sweet little girl?”  (Because I had to share this with my readers!) 

What ensued you wonder?  Basically a 30-minute photo shoot, orchestrated by Pashy’s Daddy for the perfect photo.  Apparently I am not the first blogger to meet his little angel.

Crazy #2 –

I love this one because I don’t need to really write anything to go with it.  You know the old saying, pictures say 1,000 words…or something like that…But I will.  Now, I am not one to be judgmental (out loud) but…this was just beggin’ for a photo and a prime place of positing. 

                       

Yes.  It’s true.  Sad, but true.  (If this is your car, I am sorry, and  - shame on you.)

I get product placement, but this crosses the line of capitalism into insanity.  Then,,,,then like a gift from above, I see the driver….it all made sense.

                      

 Crazy #3 –

I am walking down Santa Monica again, (maybe the city should rename this street to Crazy Lane…) I was heading back to my house having just bought some stuff from Trader Joe’s.  Buy “stuff” I mean bottles of Two Buck Chuck.  It’s a staple in my reusable bag. 

So I cross La Cienega, and right in front of the CVS a man approaches me.  (Don’t get too excited, it was a homeless man….ANY ONE else it would have been Christian Bale or Dane Cook asking them out, but no, nope…not me…) So this homeless man comes up to me and was all, “Oh…Trader Joe’s…I love Trader Joe’s!”  and I was like, “Me too!”(Awkward but whatever)

So then he goes, “Miss, you wouldn’t happen to have any spare change would you?” (apparently this guy doesn’t read my blog…if he did, he would know I never have cash.  Yes, still, I still have not gotten my pin number.  I AM TRYING TO FIND A JOB!) 

Anyway, he asks for some change, anything…And, of course, I don’t have a cent on me.   I said, “Oh, I am so sorry Sir, but I don’t have any money.”  I totally looked like a huge liar holding bags full of Two Buck Chuck…and he goes, “Really Miss, I am starving.”  And I was like, maybe if you read my blog…”Seriously Sir, I am so sorry, but I really don’t have any money.” And he shot me this look like, “YOU ARE A LIAR LADY.”  I felt the shame too. 

He so sadly looked down to the ground, and I think maybe even kicked his foot in an “aw shucks” way and said, “well thank you anyway Miss…have a wonderful day.”

I thanked him and started to walk off…DAMN IT.  I feel horrible.  I WAS next to a CVS and I did have some money, not much…but I could spare something…so I walked into CVS and this particular CVS has like a little pre-made deli sandwich area…so I looked around and decided to play it safe and picked up a PB&J sandwich.  I then went to the chip aisle, grabbed some OG nacho cheese Doritos and a king size Snicker bar.  (What?  He said he was starving and it’s CVS, my options were limited.)

So I paid for his meal and hot-footed it out of the store feeling good, like I am helping my fellow Los Angeline.  Big smile on my face, I look around for him…I could not have been in there more than 5 minutes and he was gone.  Vanished.  Ugh, I don’t even like PB&J’s….So I have failed in helping my fellow man, when out of the corner of my eye, I see him walking 2 blocks down the street….

Failing to get the man’s name during our first exchange, I couldn’t call out to him and I had a feeling shouting, “homeless Sir, homeless Sir” wouldn’t be too cool…So I start to run to catch up with him.  Mind you I have two bags of groceries complete with 4 bottles of wine, so I need to be cautious, but this dude was trucking and I needed to give him his lunch!

Looking like a total ass, trying to run as fast as I can without destroying the bread in my bag or breaking my bottles of vino, I finally catch up to him.

-       Here comes the crazy part –

I say, “Sir, excuse me Sir?”  And he turns around and looks at me like I am a stranger, “Yessss?”  “Hi, remember me, we chatted back there by the CVS.  Um, you asked me for some spare change because you were starving and wanted to get something to eat and I was all, ‘I am so sorry, but I don’t have any money….”

He was all, “Go on…”  YES – he said ‘go on’ to me.  (But at the time, it didn’t phase me because I had a lot on my mind…the bread squishing, the bottles of wine breaking, running in my flip-flops, was I ever going to find an agent…)

So I went on…”Well, I honestly didn’t have any cash, and I felt bad that I couldn’t help you.  So I went into CVS and bought you some lunch.”  Big smile on my face, holding the sack out to him, ready to accept his appreciation…

“What’s that” nodding to the bag I was holding out to him. 

“It’s some food.   A sandwich, some chips and a candy bar.”

“What kind of sandwich?”

What, did he just….

“What?”

“What kind of sandwich, I don’t eat meat.”

(AGAIN, at this time, this really doesn’t phase me.)

“Oh, it’s peanut butter and jelly”

“What flavor jelly?”

Wait…did he….

By this time I have composed myself so I was “in the conversation” and I started to get a bit perturbed that this STARVING homeless man was questioning my gift of food to him.

“I don’t know man, jelly.  I also got you chips and a candy bar.”

“Chips and candy bars have preservatives and wheat.  I don’t eat processed foods, packaged foods or anything that’s not gluten-free.”

Huh. 

Wow.

This is not happening. 

(I look around for Ashton Kutcher to yell, PUNKED!  HAHAHA, you just got PUNKED!)

Not so.

At this point, I really have nothing to say, nothing to say – I know, me…but it’s true.  I have nothing to say.  Here is the healthiest homeless man on Earth and he is rejecting my act of human kindness. 

I drop the bag with his lunch down to my side and I give him this look like, UN – BE – LEAVE – ABLE

He then asks,,,,

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

“Do you got the receipt?”

Like Mr. T always says, I pity the fools...

Until next post,

Caroline

The Bad, the Good and the Promise…

The roller coaster of emotions...up, down.... happy, sad... hopeless, full of life... scared, safe... laughter, crying….Roller coaster.

THE BAD:

I was venting to my friend back home the other day about how the situation I am in right now sucks and she was all, "You need to blog and write about it."  I love to write, it’s therapeutic, but in my heart, I was like…noooooo…I….don’t. 

I sure don’t want to let all the people who read my blog and believe in me, know what a huge slump I’m in and that I am really feeling hopeless right now.

I used to love having a blog, that way all my friends and family could keep up with my exciting and wacky adventures in Los Angeles…Now, not so much…Why you ask?  Well because I have invited everyone I know, have met or meet on the streets into my life and when my life isn’t going as planned, my failures are exposed to all.  No one likes to live through failures, let alone re-cap them in print for anyone to read.  No one really wants to read about hopelessness and failure, do they?  Do you?

I know, I asked for it and did it to myself, and I get that.  But it’s really tough to not only have to go through this, but to have to share the fact it’s not going well with all of you.  It’s hard to find a job out here...not even an acting job, but like a regular day job.  I have applied to everything from waiting tables, bartending, catering, banquet gigs, nanny gigs, manager positions, tour bus guide, promotions, marketing.....

Being job-less is the worst feeling in the world.  I feel pretty worthless and even when I think I have nailed an interview, for whatever reason, I don’t get the job.  See, I have always found a way to get work and never stressed out about a job... until now .  Thank God I can design and build awesome websites, which is sustaining my living expenses in the meantime.  But even with the website work, I work by myself, wherever I can (coffee shops) which means little or no interaction with other people.  That, within itself, sucks. 

I just don’t know what else to do!  I keep asking myself, "Have you done all you can do?" "Because if the answer is yes, then yeah – maybe this isn’t for you Caroline."  "Maybe you don’t have what it takes to make it out here in LA…That’s cool, you tried, you failed, now go back to Houston and – well, figure it out there."   But if my answer is, I think I have, or I don’t know…then I really need to stop feeling sorry for myself and find a way to make this happen! 

So I need a job.  And a place to live.  I miss my bed and my things and especially, Charlie.  I miss my dog and until I get my own place, I am without him.  For those of you that know Charlie, you know what a source of happiness he is for me.  Without him, I feel very much alone.

THE GOOD:

I am alive!  That, in a nutshell, is pretty amazing.  I have life and regardless of the outcome, I am pursing my personal journey. 

I have the best people rooting for me from all over the globe.  Although that comes with pressure to not fail or let you all down, I am so honored to have you all care about me so much.  Friends and family who I know and love and those of you I have never even met.  It’s heartwarming. 

I have reconnected with friends from Houston that I went to school with or knew one way or another, who I never thought would be in my life at this point.   And not only are they in my life, they are solid people who have traveled down the very same road that I am on and they are supporting me in every way possible.

I have met a ton of amazing, talented people in LA….Singers, my Second City friends, Houstonians here in LA!, stand-up comics, hair-stylists, producers,  friends of friends, waiters/waitresses, people in the industry, people who would never ever want to be in the industry…all so awesome.  I feel so lucky just to be here.

My Mom….she is the best.  I know at times I make her want to pull her hair out and I am sure she has often thought about how easier her life would be if she would have just left me at the hospital….but she is the best thing in my life.

THE PROMISE:

Well, okay, no, it won’t be that awesome if I leave LA without accomplishing any of my goals...so for now, for the next 7 days, I will give it 200%, everything I have.  I will report in every day and update you all as to where I am and we will, together, take the next seven days on.  Head-up, positive attitude, smile on my face, with everything we have. 

And on an end note, if one more person from LA, Houston, NYC or anywhere on the globe for that matter sends me a smug note or comment or email saying how hard it is to make it in LA and what a tough, bad town this is and how people get eaten alive....SAVE IT 

Stop reading my blog. 

I don’t need that now, or actually, never needed it.  I get it, it’s hard, you tried or know someone who tried or read about a failed attempt about making it in the “biz” here and it didn’t end as expected. I am so sorry it didn’t work out. 

But this is MY journey, MY experiences, MY life.  If you don’t have anything nice or constructive to say, don’t say it.  You’re not helping.  I appreciate your need to share, but it’s not constructive.  I have my own path to go on and I don’t need people saying, basically, “I told you so.”

Until tomorrow,

Caroline

Hanged or Hanging on?

I know, I know….what kind of a blogger doesn’t post for over two weeks and leaves her readers in the lurch as to her where abouts and going on’s?   It’s rude and inconsiderate and where do writers such as myself get off behaving like that.  What kind of a professional do I think I am?

The kind that started to believe and buy in to what every one had warned her about… Getting acting work and “making it” in Los Angeles is damn near impossible.  Many people warned me I was going to move out here, give it a shot and I would see how hard it was, how cruel the people can be, no good Mexican food and I would return to Houston having comfort in giving it my best.  But at least tried, right?

I was thisclose last week to cashing in my chips and began to figure out a way to get back to Houston.  I don’t have a permanent place to live and thought after 6 weeks I would have found something, ANYTHING and I finally realized why the Southland has so many homeless people – duh, they came out to LA to pursue their personal journey of winning an Academy Award, like me, ran out of money, like me, couldn’t find a place to live, like me, or a day job, like me,  while they were taking classes at Second City, JUST like me, and couldn’t scratch up enough change to get back to wherever it was they came from... oh what a sad fate I have in store, but…it all makes sense….and I tried!  I gave it my best and you know, maybe this isn’t for me...

And then, I heard my heart ask, did you really, truly, give it your best? 

Upon arriving in Los Angeles 7 weeks ago, a good friend of mine suggested I read Paulo Coelho’s book The Alchemist.  For those of you that haven’t read it, it’s a story about a Spanish Shepherd on his personal journey to find his treasure in Egypt.  I was reading it the other day and I came across a passage,

“What you still need to know is this: before a dream is realized, the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way.  It does not do this because it is evil, but so that we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we’ve learned as we’ve moved toward that dream. 

That’s the point at which most people give up. 

It’s the point at which, as we say in the language of the desert, one ‘dies of thirst just when the palm trees appeared in the horizon.’

Every search begins with beginner’s luck.  And every search ends with the victor’s being severely tested.”

I started thinking, have I done all I can do and am I ready to throw down my headshots and stick up my hands in surrender?   Have I tried every possible avenue for a day job and an apartment and have I given this city and my goals, a fair chance?  Or did I have unrealistic expectations and need to continue to show up, be here and find a way to make this happen.  I hear my heart, I know this is where I am supposed to be and I don’t want to take off on a Boeing 747 and look out the window and see palm trees behind me.

A friend once told me a long time ago, when you get to the end of your rope, you have two options….get hanged or hang on.  She suggested the latter.  Well, I never really understood the severity or the sense that made, until now.

My rope is my journey here in LA….I am at the point where there is a knot.  I can either quit and get hanged which = go home and realize my quest was unsuccessful.  OR, I can tie a knot and hang on.  

My hands are bloody with rope burns but I am hanging on very tightly.   This is my personal journey and one I will accomplish.  Not over night, not easily, but with sheer will, guidance from my heart and support from my friends and family.  I have all that, it’s in me and I know it. 

Among all the uncertainty and fear about the future, I am wrapped in a blanket of peace.  A peace in my heart because I am on my personal journey.  I am here in LA and I will, without a doubt, accomplish my dreams.

I will not give up, I will fight for this until I am successful.  Please, don’t you give up on me either.

Until next post (and I promise it will be soon)

- Caroline

Love...actually?

While this past week has been quite adventurous, I feel I need to write about today, Valentines’ Day, Saint Valentine’s Day that is and I promise updates on my last week complete with photos on Wednesday.  But today my focus is about this holiday and my personal take of the day.

Valentine’s Day is the holiday of love.  The day for cards, little chocolates, champagne, roses, everything red…but I wonder…if it’s so centered on material items easily purchased at Walgreen’s or the corner ‘Gas ‘n Sip’, then why do people get so depressed and feel less about themselves because they are spending this day “alone?”   Have we lost the true meaning about the day and made it into another reason to prove how loved we are… or to feel how loved we aren’t?

In theory, I dig the idea of a day to reflect on those you love…But in reality, the holiday (and I use that term loosely) is pretty sad.  No, I am not jaded…but is it truly a “holiday” or is it just a reason, once a year, to spend a ton of money on items that are disposable symbols of love and affection?  And in many cases, makes singles or “lonely hearts” feel less about themselves because they are "alone?"

Why is that?  Why do we allow ourselves to let a holiday, a day of observation, celebration, to make us feel unloved, less special and insignificant because we don’t have a significant other to exchange teddy bears, sweet tart hearts or enjoy a “feast of the sea “ for two at Red Lobster with?  And why do some of us think we are better and more important and loved, because we do?  (as I wipe drawn butter off my chin.)

From what I can tell, more people are focused on the fact they are spending this day without someone “special” then focusing on all the true love and “special” people they DO have in their lives.  For instance, in the past, regarding the upcoming day of amore, I have heard my girlfriends say, “Ugh, I hate Valentine’s Day.  It just reminds me that I'm single.”  “I have no one to spend Valentine’s Day with and it sucks”  “No one will ever love me”  “What if I am always alone?”

Wait, I am here.  I love you.  I won’t buy you little candy hearts that say “be mine” but I will tell you I love you.  I won’t let you feel alone.  Isn’t that worth something?

I’m not Irish but I thoroughly enjoy a slammin’ St. Patty’s Day Parade and I’m all about everything green on March 17th. 

Every May you’ll find me celebrating the Mexican’s army victory over the French on Cinco de Mayo and I am not Mexican or French, but margaritas –

¡Los quiero mucho!

And let me set the record straight, I am no fool, but I have been know to pull off some cherry April Fool’s Day pranks.

I don’t think, (although it’s marketing genius, so kudos corporate America, kudos), I don’t think that this day is really intended to celebrate having a significant other..

BUT…we do.  Even if you say you don’t, the thought has crossed your mind.  Hasn’t it?  Maybe once?  Just maybe? 

This day should and must start with the most important valentine in this world, you.  You are loved and special.  Don’t believe me?  Ask your Niece or Mother, ask your Brother or grocery sacker you give a couple bucks to now and again, ask your dog or Grandpa.

Love is a term that can mean so much, and so little at the same time. 

“I love my family...  I love my dog….  I love to go on vacations….  I love Pinot Noir….  I love college hoops….  I love chips and salsa.  I love to run…. I love Goggling things….  I love goldfish crackers…. I love my Reefs…”

I love a lot, from my family to flip-flops. 

But wait, that ain’t right.  Do I really feel the same way about my Mom as I do about Pepperidge Farm’s little cracker bits of delight?  (I do love those crackers.) 

Kind of makes you think.  Do we really know what love is or do we just throw the word around using it as a noun, verb and idiom, diluting it's true meaning to basically say I REALLY REALLY LIKE THESE GOLDFISH!  

Have we used the word love so much to prove our feelings it's become casual?

Loving and being loved is essential to our existence.  But, you must love yourself first.  That's a love that will never fail or leave you.  Once you are filled with love, your love, by you, in you, every day becomes Valentine's Day, and you have beat the system.  You have reversed the order of what you think this day is about and have embraced it to the point you live your life full of love every day.

So maybe this holiday should be the design structure for everyday..and love what all and who all we do have, instead of what we don’t.


Now go call your Mom or Dad, Sister, Nephew, neighbor, old teacher, middle school friend, fishing-buddy anyone you think who could use a special Valentine's Day greeting....and wish them a wonderful day.

And then do it again, tomorrow and the next day, and the next day and don't ever stop...

Do it for the love in your heart.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Until next post,

Caroline

Super Bowl of Reality

It’s Super Bowl Sunday!  Cold beer, chips, dips and commercials!  I love Super Bowl Sunday! 

But this year, today, I am not feeling it. 
I am far away from home. 
Far away from my friends and family. 

No betting squares this year, no queso cooking on the stove, no cocktail weenies in the crock pot.  For the first time since I got here, it hits me.... I am alone. 

Alone with my dream and this is what I wanted.

Wait.  Um, no, this isn’t what I wanted, was it?  I put myself in this position, I made this happen.  This isn’t fun….this is scary.  I’m homesick. 

 I want to stay in bed today and perhaps the rest of my life. 

Everyone said, (besides that I am going to love it out here) LA is tough.  What I thought they meant was the city itself was tough…and I was all, "No, no this city is awesome!"  But what I now realize is the “tough” comes in when the dust settles, the savings run low, everyday life sets in and it hit’s you.

"WHAT IN THE HELL AM I DOING?"

I am starting over.

As romantic as it sounds, it’s scary as hell.  It’s lonely, it’s exciting, it’s unknown.

A roller coaster.  Massive highs – I am in LA!  The weather is awesome!  Everyone is unique!  Hiking, skiing, the beach, the culture!  Deep lows - The quiet.  The strangers.  The unsuccessful job-hunt.  No one to tell me it’s all going to be okay and to keep going…

I was invited to a Super Bowl party by a friend of a friend and I thought I was going to go, but now, given the state I am in, I decide that hanging at home would be best.  I pick up the phone to graciously decline the invitation and as soon as she answered, I started to cry.  Here I was crying on the phone, breaking down to a perfect stranger….Through my tears, I attempt to explain that I am so homesick and “just not feeling” like I would be good company, she said to me, “You know what would cheer you up?  Being with a bunch of rowdy and obnoxious Steelers fans, eating good food, drinking cold beer.  Caroline, we have all been just exactly where you are, and we’ll help you understand why you’re here.”

Huh, so maybe there will be betting squares, queso and cocktail weenies or maybe there will be something new…and maybe I am not alone.  I am surrounded by people, opportunities and love, it’s just different now.  Different in an exciting and scary way. 

If my Mom were here, she would say to me, "Nothing in this life comes easy, if it did, we’d all be living in Malibu looking out over the ocean trying to decide which movie offer we want."

Alright, I get nothing comes easy, but damn, does it have to be this hard?

It does.  It does and I know why.  I have to go through this and experience the lows to appreciate and recognize the highs. 

A friend once told me diamonds were made under pressure and if that’s the case, well I am destined to be a 45-karat, flawless rock that Beyonce would be proud to wear.

So the only person that can make me get up and get this Super day going is myself.  One step at a time, one day at a time.

Plus, Super Bowl parties are way better than pity parties and traditionally not much crying.

Let's do this.

Until next post –

Caroline

Cents & Sensibility

I have a couple problems that I need to get taken care of immediately…The most pressing, I need to get with my credit union and have them send me my pin number for my bankcard because I have no way of getting cash until then.  Trust me, I have tried.  Most of you might think, well if you have a credit card, then why would you need cash?   

Here’s why:

The other morning, as I am getting ready for my class, I plan out my journey in my head about how I am going to get there.  The bike?  Out of the question, I am short on dignity so I must preserve the tiny bit I have left….I could walk, but uphill – no thanks.  Alright, my two remaining options are either to cab it there, $$$, or ride the bus.  Bus to me screams adventure and it’s cheap, hey, I am a starving actor so…I ask a random stranger what the fare is for the bus and he says, $1.50.  Wow, times have changed.  Change.  Damn, I need to scrounge up $1.50 in change because I’m sure they don’t take credit cards and I have zero cash.

I consult Google on what routes to take.  It’s basically mindless.  I can catch the 704 bus a block away from my house…take that 5 blocks, transfer to the 780 bus and boom, in 28 minutes I will be at the door of Second City.  SWEET.

Like a teenager, I scour my place for all things change.  What I discovered was if I was in Mexico, China or Italy, I would have no problem paying the bus fare, even a plane ticket in Beijing, curses, why do we have to be such world travelers? 

Then it hits me, PURSES!  

All girls have change at the bottom of their purses, so I race upstairs, time check, 9:18, (I have to leave the house by 9:50) and…where are they…oh, score, four purses, yea!  I grab the biggest one I own first, dump it out, rummage through the pieces of gum, half wrapped with purse debris clinging on to dear life.  (Pieces of gum such as this are disgusting, but…you can’t throw them out because you never know when the urge to chew your mouth to spearmint bliss is going to hit.)  Over the mounds of lip gloss, receipts galore, random diamond stud, card of some dude I met last night who is “going to make me a star” READ: Harvest my kidneys – no thank you and voila, change!  Quarters are like gold bits of love, I only find two.. there are a couple dimes and some nickels…fifty, sixty, sixty-five, seventy-five..(half way there!) on to the next bag, like it was a Las Vegas slot machine, I hit sixty cents!!!  One dollar and thirty-five cents, all I need is fifteen more cents!  Next purse, dry as the Mohave desert, boo….last chance is this tiny baguette I have, not very functional, but oh so cute, and I know, there ain’t no change in there…I dump it, knowing the outcome, I have hope…no change, but – sweet, there is my license, so it wasn’t a total loss…

 

 

Time check, 9:30.  I have 20 minutes.  Crunch time.  Think, think Caroline – A-HA!  The catch-all kitchen drawer! 

I race back downstairs, sprint into the kitchen, stepped on a bottle cap, ouuuuch, was I hurt or was I injured, ah who cares, this is time for self-sacrifice and I need fifteen cents.  I open the kitchen drawer, matches, incense, corks, buttons, a pocket knife, more corks (why do we save all these corks?)  A QUARTER!!  (Doing the touchdown dance, I have my bus fare!)

I hit the door and make it to the bus stop with 5 minutes to spare, swwwweeet!  I am counting out my change to make double sure it’s the right amount, and in the slowest of slow motion, a quarter drops out of my hand and tumbles in the air ever-so-slowly to the ground..  Remember in Old School when will Farrell gets shot with the tranquilizer and he is screaming in slow motion so his voice sounds like Buffalo Bill, (put the lotion in the basket)  that was me, nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooo…, that’s not concrete, that’s a tree grate, NNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!! 

I wanted to cry.

I have all this change in my hands that I must protect from joining their friend in change purgatory, I have to get that quarter and of course, Of. Course.  Here comes the bus.  I carefully put the change that I had in my hand in my pocket and look down…the quarter, I kid you not, is teetering on the edge of one of the grate bars, or whatever it’s called, and I just know at any second it going to commit to going all the way in and then – I’m screwed.  Please God, please God…Then, thankfully I was an Operation champ back in the day, I make my fingers into tweezers and carefully bend down to retrieve my quarter, my lifeline to class..  As I am going in for the gold, the bus pulls up and stops, I am going to miss this bus because I’m in the middle of this procedure and I can’t seem to get it, nurse, wipe my brow please…looking up, through the massive beads of sweat, are my eyes deceiving me?  Can it be that’s the express bus, not the 704?  Yessss….deep breath….back to the quarter, finally, shaking like I am going through withdrawals, I grab the quarter with my two fingers (makeshift tweezers), squeezing it so hard I nearly draw blood and maneuver my hand with the quarter in it, successfully bring it up to safety.

Exhale.

Why does everything have to be so hard?

More pressing, I need to understand how this transfer thing works, so I ask a guy waiting at the bus stop.  “Excuse me Sir?  I need to transfer at Fairfax to the 780 bus, do you know how I go about doing that?”  Big smile..

 “No.” 

Okay…..Guess I will figure this one out on the fly.  The 704 bus gets there, and I get on.  As I’m pouring my fare into the collection box, I ask the driver.  “Hi!  I’m first time rider, long time mass transportation lover, (laugh and flash a smile) and I am wondering if you can give me a transfer to the 780 bus, please.”  As he shuts the door and starts to drive, “we don’t do transfers.”

“Excuse me?  What?”  What did he just say?  They don’t do transfers?  “Uh…sorry Sir, what did you say?”

“I said, we don’t do transfers.” 

Everyone in the bus is giving me this look like, SIT DOWN IDIOT and I look back at the collection box, yeup, all my change is inside there.  So I sit down adjacent to the bus driver.  Okay,  I just put my $1.50 (all the cash I had in the world) into the collection box.  I have to transfer to the 780 bus, but apparently I can’t get a transfer ticket. 

Meanwhile…there is this guy sitting across from me on his phone, oh his phone, talking at the top of his lungs.  “Did you get my fax?  I faxed it this morning.  Yeah, this morning.  I faxed it.  Do you see it?  Did you get it?”  And he has mounds of papers piled on his lap.  “I faxed it already.  Do you see it.  Did you get it.”  I wanted, in the politest of neighborly fashion, to explain to the gentlemen, no, whomever you’re talking to didn’t get the fax.  But I opt not to.  I need to figure out how I am going to get on the 780 bus and I have 2 blocks to do so.

I lean forward and again, inform the bus driver this is my first time riding, meaning I have no freaking clue as to what I’m doing and I need some help. 

“Excuse me Sir?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, but I have never ridden the bus before and I am unclear how to transfer to the 780 bus.”

“You get off and get back on.”

“Uh..right, right but without a transfer slip, do I have to pay again.”

“Yeah.”

“Do buses take credit cards?”

“No.”

“Um, okay, uh, I actually just put all the change (point to the collection box) I have in the collection box to get on this bus.”

“So use two dollar bills.”

“Yeah, I don’t have any more cash.”

He’s silent, but not the guy across from me, going on and on about this fax.  No, no he didn’t get the fax, give it a rest dude.   Who faxes stuff anymore anyway?

Yeah, I am frustrated because no one is helping me, it’s 10:20, I have no cash and my plan of transferring at the next block is not going to happen.

Again, I reach out to the bus driver. 

“Sir, is there a way, to buy, maybe, a season pass for the bus?”

“Yeah.”

“Around here?”

“Go online and it will tell you.”

I don’t understand why this has to be so hard.  

“Okay, um, here’s the deal.  I need to get to 6500 block of Hollywood Blvd. and I have no cash to pay again on the 780 bus what I thought I would be able to do is to get a transfer see I’m from Houston and in Houston we have these little transfer tickets which is like an extension to the bus you are on if you’re going in the same direction which I thought would be the same here in LA I have a class that starts in 30 minutes and I can’t be late all I am asking for here is a little help from you because I am at a dead end and I don’t know what to do.  This is my first time riding the bus”     

“I don’t know anything about Houston buses,  I treat all riders the same.”

What?  WTF was that supposed to mean? 

Talk about being dazed and confused….

”Sorry Sir, What?”

“First time rider or been riding forever, I treat all riders the same.”

“Sir, I am not looking for any special privileges I just need some help getting to the 6500 block of Hollywood Blvd.”

Silence.

really???? Fine. 

I pull out my phone, GPS my location and figure out how to get there from the street I am on.  I realize I can ride the bus up to Highland Avenue and walk, sprint the mile and a half to Hollywood Blvd and pray I make it to class on time.

“Excuse me sir, does this bus go all the way up to Highland Avenue?”

“That’s what the map says” and point to the route map. 

Didn’t see that there.

“thanks.”

As we approach Highland, I am absolutely certain the guy on the phone is bat-shit crazy, I push the “request to stop” button, stand up, put on my backpack and prepare for my dash to class.

As I’m standing there, the bus driver stops, opens the door and I star to exit. 

“Hey”

Was he talking to me?

I turn back around “Yes?”

He motions across the street, “you can buy a bus pass over there, at that check cashing place.”

“Over there?” and I point to where he casually batted the air in the direction he said the check cashing place was.

“YES”

I look across the street, and there it is, like a gift from above, between Do-Nut Time and the all-you-can eat Indian buffet place, CHECK CASHING.

 FINALLY a breakthrough, “Thank you Sir.  Thank you very much and have a nice day.”  I appreciated his gesture of kindness at the last minute, very much…and I was psyched, I will hit the check cashing place, buy a bus pass, that way I have a means of getting home and will be on time to class, if I shake a leg.

I look up to take in the day, with the sun on my face, I smile and I realize -  all in all, that wasn’t too painful. 

I cross the street, proud of myself for thinking on the fly and “figuring it out,” walk up to the check cashing place and pull on the door to go in. 

Locked?  What time does it open??? I wonder.  I cup my hands around my eyes and press my face on the glass to look inside and see if I can beg my way in,

Vacant.

A ghost town that was once, in it’s days of glory, a place to buy bus passes and cash checks and pay your water bill.

Now a wasteland of check-stubs and half-filled out Western Union forms.

Damn.

I turn and begin speed walking up Highland, turn on to Hollywood and sprint to make it to my class. 

Time check, 10:56.

God I need to get my pin number. 

Until next post –

Caroline

Six degrees of Mark Wahlberg

The other night when we were in the cab on our way home from El Carmen, we passed an inconspicuous hole-in-wall bar.   Coco hits me on the shoulder and casually says, “that’s Mark Wahlberg’s place, ‘Goal’.”  The girl knows how much I ♥ Mark Wahlberg, talented actor, co-creator of Entourage and he’s from Boston!….It takes a couple seconds to process and then I was like, “What, Mark Wahlberg, what?”  “That bar back there, it’s an awesome sports bar with flat-screen TV’s , she motions behind us, “‘Goal,’ Mark Wahlberg owns it.”  “Go?”  “Goal.”  “Goulmb?”  “GOAL.”  For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what in the heck she was saying, “Gold?”   She lifts her hands up, in a “my team just scored a field goal, referee style” and says “GOOOOOOOOOOOOAL” like the Spanish announcer on Telemundo.  “Oh, goal.”  “Cool, where?”   She gave up because by this time, we’re almost home…I had missed laying eyes on it, but I was intrigued…Goal was now etched into my memory and I had a new mission, I  Must  Go  To  Goal,  -DING - which also reminded me, I forgot to share a little nugget of life in LA with you all…..

In the summer of 1997, I moved from Houston to Boston (notice a pattern here) because I wanted to work for the Boston Bruins.  Having never been to Boston, let alone the East Coast, I was really going in blind.  But I wanted to work for an NHL team and in the season before I moved, the Boston Bruins had the worst record.  I figured, if any NHL team was going to take a chance on a girl from south Texas who wanted to work in hockey, it was a team that really had nothing to loose – insert the Boston Bruins.

While living in Boston and working for the Bruins (guess they couldn’t resist my charm) I developed a deep appreciation for all things Beantown.  The Red Sox, (little did I know what I was getting myself into there) the Patriots, the Celtics, Cape Cod, saying “wicked,” and the importance of understanding and appreciating the deep roots of family and being from such a unique city.  It was right about that time Good Will Hunting came out and I fell in love with the depth and range of talent from actors who were around my age (well, obviously I am delusional here, I am at least 10 years their junior) from Boston.   Edward Norton, Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Casey Affleck, Tom Everett Scott, Dane Cook (no?  Lol, fair enough, but he’s cute and funny as hell) and Mark and Donnie Wahlberg, of course. 

So for the last 10 years, I have followed the films of Boston and with actors who hail from Boston as well as developing a deep affinity for the show, Entourage from Closest to the Hole Productions, Mark Wahlberg’s production company.  For those of you that are familiar with Entourage bare with me, if you’re not, it’s a weekly show about a group of guys with one “leading” guy, “Vince” who brings his crew out to LA to pursue his life’s journey of becoming an actor.  (Kind of like me!) His crew consists of his brother, his best friend Eric, “E” who is his manager and a childhood friend “Turtle” who is basically his chauffeur and all around “guy-Friday.”    Well, E is amazing; he fields all of Vince’s scripts, negotiates projects for him, and makes sure Vince is where he needs to be and doesn’t oversleep!  I have a best friend in Houston, who has helped me in a very similar way, that I call “E” as kind of an homage to her and the show.  I presented her with a diamond-encrusted “E” necklace before I left for LA as a token of my appreciation for all she's done for me, so far....  (My plan is to get her out here once I can afford her.  It wasn’t real diamonds, but cubic-zirconium encrusted.. just looks odd…)

Okay, so I am bringing it all back around -

My first Saturday morning in LA.. I Googled coffee shops and settled on one 2 miles away on Sunset.  I throw on my Red Sox hat, grab my backpack and hit the road for the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. 

I walk up and there is a group of men sitting outside chatting, this one guys asks me if I am from Boston.   “No, not originally, but I lived there for a while and I am a huge Sox fan.”  And I flash an endearing smile.  He kind of frowns, and I ask, already knowing because of his tell, “You a Bronx Bomber fan?”  (HUGE Red Sox / Yankees rivalry, always, no matter where you are in the world, if you’re a Red Sox fan, you typically don’t jive with Yankees fans.)  “Born and raised.”  “Oh no.” I said.   He laughed and we all started talking.  I go inside and get coffee, and return just as my phone starts ringing.  Who is it but my E!  I chat with my E for a couple minutes and then hang up and sit at the table adjacent to the group of men.  A few minutes after I had hung up with my E, the Yankees fan asks what I do and basically, what’s my story.  I share with him I just moved out to LA and he tells me he’s in town for business.  Business meaning “one of his guys” is up for a Golden Globe.   Huh.   I wonder what who was “one of his guys” or who he was for that matter, but by no means was I going to ask or ask his name or any of that because I didn’t want to be that girl, although I was dying to know! 

After a while of chatting, I tell him how nice it was to chat with him and leave.  No names, no nothing.  Oh well. 

(where the magic happened)

The next day, I get up and once again hit the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf.  I am inside for about 30 minutes when the Yankee’s fan walks in.  “Hey Caroline!”  (Agh, he remembered my name, that’s cool…)  “Oh hey”  I was cool as a cucumber..No worries.  “Hey, we’re outside.”  “Cool.  I will come say hi in a bit, I am just wrapping up some work.”  By work I meant catching up on Perez Hilton, but whatever….A while later I head outside, sit down by the guy and we all start talking.  Yeah, it was kind of cool, 2 days in and I had some new friends.  So we’re talking about films and I mention how much I admired Christian Bale and Mark Wahlberg’s performance in The Fighter.  Later on we’re talking about Dubai, I don’t remember why, but then he was all, “I was just in Dubai,,,,beautiful place, anything you want you can have, any time of year, even an indoor ski mountain.”  “Wow, really, what took you to Dubai?” I asked.  “Well we took our film over to show it to the troops in Afghanistan and stopped off in Dubai for a couple days.”  “Oh, really…that’s awesome.  What film?”  “The Fighter.”  What?  What?!?  Thank God I said good things about it before.  “You’re in The Fighter?”  “Well, I have a tiny part in the opening scene, but I’m with Mark Wahlberg.”  “Oh.”  (Processing…..processing….processing….)  “Neat.”  (I don’t even really know what that means, but I am keeping cool.  Nonchalant.)  “Oh and Mark is up for a Golden Globe for the film.”  “Right.”  “Neat.”  Then I ask, “so you work with him?”  “Yeah, I’m with his management team.”  “Oh, (I laugh out loud) kind of like ‘E’ on Entourage.” “Exactly, you got it, I am E.”  I was all, “that’s so cool, they modeled the guy Eric, ‘E’, after you?!”  And he was all, “Yeah, my name is Eric.”

 and BOOM GOES THE DYNAMITE.

The real life Eric!!!

No one is ever going to believe this. 

- Until next post,

Caroline

P.S. – He was much taller and more handsome then the actor, if you were wondering.