Friday, December 2, 2011


So I had this rather strange dream the other night involving four lizards.

I don’t know how it started. But I remember one of the lizards was a chameleon. And I watched with fascination, along with a group of others, while he put on an impressive show for us in the living room. We marveled at his amazing display of talent, applauding as he changed colors to blend in seamlessly with various pieces of decorative furniture. I sat absolutely mesmerized during the entire performance.

-Who exactly are you?

At some point, I decided that I really wanted a picture with my new scaly pets. So I set out to gather them all which was no small task.

I found one lizard in an adjoining room, speaking his thoughts aloud to no one in particular. A smart, analytical type with wire rimmed glasses, he smiled when he saw me. And I felt an almost instant connection to the critter.

I chased down another rascal, who ran around frantically on his hind legs, eventually catching him.  

And after an exhaustive search, I stumbled upon the last guy, hiding in a dark corner.

With an excitement I can’t fully explain, I posed for a bizarre, yet SERIOUSLY  AWESOME photo surrounded by my reptilian posse.  And what struck me the most about that snapshot wasn’t its genuine awkwardness.  Or the four sets of bulging eyes and dead serious stares. It was the huge smile on my face. I was overjoyed.

What the hell does it all mean anyhow? Nothing. Zero. Zilch.

Normally, I don’t remember my dreams. So when I have a particularly vivid one that stays with me, I know it probably means something. Especially, if it involves a strange animal. Whenever I’ve felt stuck or unsure about my current path and prayed for guidance. The answer often comes to me in the form of a dream featuring some random wildlife creature, like my psyche wants to make extra sure I don’t forget it.

The lizards were definitely a sign. The universe was trying to tell me something.

But what exactly was the message? And why lizards? What did they represent? I browsed through a few online dream dictionaries on a quest for answers.

Here’s what I learned:   

--The lizard symbolizes emerging creativity, renewal and revitalization.

--Seeing a chameleon in your dream, represents your ability to adapt to any situation. You are versatile and well-rounded. Alternatively you feel you are being overlooked.

--To observe a chameleon running in your dream is connected to independence.

--If you chase the chameleon, then this shows that obstacles are currently in your way.

--Most lizards are gifted with various forms of camouflage. These gifts of illusion are symbolic of messages to us that within us, we have impressive gifts we may utilize for our well-being...


I just want to understand.

WOW. The dream could not have been more telling. It speaks directly to the growing fears and anxiety I’ve felt as I contemplate taking the self-employment route.

After getting laid off twice, from two equally uninspiring tv jobs, I’ll admit the idea of working for myself holds tremendous appeal. Seems like a no-brainer. But it’s a real bold step that requires enormous courage. Not to mention an inordinate amount of self-confidence, which truthfully is in short supply as my bruised ego is still recovering from the one-two punch of losing both my job AND my man. In the same month.

I worry I don’t have what it takes to succeed as a full-time writer.

What if I’m not talented enough? Or “special” enough? Or can’t pay my bills? I tell myself maybe I’m better off looking for a less demanding job and pursuing my creative projects on the side. But I know that's fear, pushing me to make another safe choice. 

I’ve traded my dreams before for the security of a steady paycheck. I was miserable. 

You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger darling.

The lizard dream is basically telling me to not be afraid to strike out on my own!

Because even though it’s a scary time in my career, marked by uncertainty. It’s also a time for renewal that offers me an exciting opportunity to explore new possibilities. Sure, there will be obstacles. But I am versatile and can adapt easily. I simply need to believe in myself and have confidence in my impressive gifts, knowing I cannot fail.

As I further analyzed the dream, it suddenly struck me: HOLY CRAP...I AM THE DAMN LIZARD! Or rather, each of the four lizards represents a different part of me.

--The “talented chameleon” is me at my creative best, when I am utilizing all of my special talents to entertain others. I’m focused, thoroughly engaged and inspired. This is me on a good day; when I allow myself to shine and don’t give into fear and anxiety.

--The “analytical lizard” is me on most days, completely lost in thought. Planning. Questioning. Weighing my options and over analyzing every step. Sadly, I know this lizard well. We’re best buds! He’s me when I am stuck and unable to move forward.

--The “unfocused lizard” runs around aimlessly. Or in my case, watches a lot of trashy reality tv or spends hours googling random shit it calls “research”. It’s me on my worst days, when I procrastinate and get nothing done. When I’m being small.

--And the “hidden lizard”, well, that’s the part of me I hide for fear people will judge me. He’s the reason I started this blog. Because I don’t want to hide who I am. Anymore.
In order to be truly happy, I need to utilize ALL of my special gifts and talents, let go of my fears and stop holding myself back. Because as the final snapshot revealed...


So, I can stop worrying now. I'm going to be just fine. 

Four little lizards told me so.

Monday, November 28, 2011


“What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly
the same, and nothing that you did mattered?”

Just a few random thoughts floating around my brain as I clear out the cobwebs and gear up for the week ahead. Some happy. Some not.... 

--This morning I woke up to a freshly cleaned apartment. It was SOOO nice.

--My first thought when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror: why do you look...surprised? Then I remembered I waxed my eyebrows over the weekend at a nail salon at the mall in an effort to save time. Bad idea. Definitely not a good look.

--My birthday is a few days away. I wonder if my ex will call to wish me a happy birthday? Probably not. But the romantic in me never loses hope. I love her optimism.

--Heard a story last night about a young Cali guy who suffered a stroke and died for eight minutes. Miraculously, he lived. And every year he throws a “life celebration” party. Made me smile. Good reminder to enjoy every moment of your life. 
--Reminder: Have to make a mammogram appointment. It’s important.

--I need to stop sending out resumes for JOBS I REALLY DON’T WANT. And recognize it’s my fear of not having money, trying to convince me to make another safe, predictable choice. Fear is an evil bitch! Don’t listen to her. 

--Some folks LOVE to hear themselves talk, don’t they? Am I really expected to stand there and listen as someone drones on endlessly?!  At some point, I just smiled and walked away. If that makes me shady, so be it. I got a life to live over here. 

--What would you do if money weren't an issue? Thought about it over the weekend. And the answer came without hesitation: I’d write a screenplay. So I’m gonna do that.


Enjoy every moment of your life and don't get caught up in stupid, needless worrying; have faith that the universe will provide exactly what you need.  

Oh yeah, and have a happy birthday this week!! Make it fun.

1. GROUNDHOG DAY (1993) Writers: Danny Rubin, Harold Ramis 

Monday, November 21, 2011


I’ve been unemployed for five months. And getting a job is always foremost on my mind, a growing concern that sucks up a lot of time and mental energy. It’s not easy. 

Sometimes the stress and uncertainty can be overwhelming; worrying about whether or not I’ll find work before unemployment runs out. What if I can’t make rent and wind up HOMELESS?!! With a heavy sigh, I imagine my almost certain future as a vagrant with my belongings slung over my shoulder in a weathered Hefty CinchSak, begging for change near Venice Beach along with life’s other undesirables. My worst fears realized, I bump into a former co-worker, who points his iphone at me. And laughs.

Or worse, my ex-boyfriend! Who pretends not to see me. But I catch the look of pity and disappointment in his eyes as he walks past. And I cry out to the sky, in anguish.

The scary vision drives me to rework my resume, AGAIN, in another sad attempt to hide with dazzling prose what I sorely lack in qualifications. No one is fooled. 

I don’t even have any good skills! You know, like nunchuck skills,
bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills…

But when I’m not stressing myself out, dreaming up worse case scenarios or checking my dwindling bank account balance each morning, this whole “not working thing” hasn’t been all bad. In fact, getting laid off may have been a real blessing in disguise.

I’m getting a lot more sleep. I’m exercising regularly. I’m eating healthier and actually planning all my meals. Even my apartment—a place that once served as a storage facility for dirty laundry and take out containers—has started to feel more like a home.

It’s amazing how much personal stuff actually gets done when your life doesn’t revolve around work and the I-don't-have-time excuse has lost meaning. I feel like a real person! The proof: I currently have two distinctly shaped eyebrows, no mustache and the hair on my head is ONE SHADE OF BROWN. Trust me that was a rare occurrence back when I put my boss’ needs above my own; I was a two-toned hairy troll.

Basically, I look and feel great. And I’m happier than I’ve been in a really long time. So now that I’ve gotten my life back, I don’t know that I’m ready to hand it over to another ungrateful employer who overworks me and treats me like an indentured servant.

We don’t have a lot of time on this earth. We weren’t meant to spend it this way.

So where do I go from here? I’m not exactly sure to be honest. But as I weigh my career options, I’ve gotten a lot clearer on the type of job that I want/don’t want.

Here’s the essential criteria: 

1. I WANT a job that challenges me, where I can learn, grow and develop new skills.

2. I WANT a job that excites and fulfills me, where I can create something that provides some value to people’s lives.

3. I WANT a job that pays me WHAT I AM WORTH.

4. I WANT a job that doesn’t make me wrong for having a personal life or wanting to maintain some type of work/life balance.

5. I WANT to work with talented people who bring out the best in me.

6. I DON'T WANT to work for another clueless idiot. 

7. I DON'T WANT to work 16-18 hour days again with zero time for myself.

8. I DON'T WANT to work for another media company, who doesn’t appreciate or value my creative ideas and contributions.



In short, I want a job that doesn’t gnaw away at my soul and make me miserable. Am I asking for too much here? You tell me.

1. NAPOLEON DYNAMITE (2004) Writer: Jared Hess, Jerusha Hess  
2. OFFICE SPACE (1999) Writer: Mike Judge

Tuesday, November 1, 2011


I may not be a “people person”. But I am most definitely a kid person.

So it’s no coincidence that some of my best relationships are with folks under the age of ten. Sad, I know. But I honestly enjoy the time I spend hanging out with my niece, nephew and all my cousins’ kids; preferring their company over many adults. Because they know how to have fun! And they’re so enthusiastic. About. EVERYTHING. The world is a joyous place again when I’m around them. And life becomes a lot simpler.

  --What do you like to do?
--I don’t know…burn stuff.
Plus, I love that you know where you stand with kids. There’s ZERO BULLSHIT.

When I make a less-than-winning suggestion. They don’t mince words. Or hide their feelings behind a mask of fake politeness. They look me right in the eye and say: “No. I don’t want to do that. It’s dumb”. End of discussion.

Or if I’m walking around feeling all cute in my fave grungy jeans. These tykes immediately set me straight, noting areas for improvement with helpful comments like:

….What happened to your hair?

….Why are your teeth, yellow? Hey, come look. Her teeth. They’re YELLOW!

….You talk too much. I don’t want you to talk anymore today.

….You wear those jeans EVERYTIME YOU COME HERE. It’s annoying!

Forget all those well-meaning poseurs on facebook. THESE are friends! Seriously.

I don’t want friends.
Of course, they’re also family. So they can do virtually no wrong in my book. Even when they’re misbehaving, I find them cute and funny and endlessly entertaining. But I don’t always find other people’s kids quite as amusing. In fact....


I’m not talking about the bratty ones either. I have a special affinity for this often misunderstood lot, probably because I myself was labeled “bratty” growing up. Bratty kids aren’t necessarily, BAD. They’re strong-willed, independent and curious by nature. They like to discover things on their own. And never let a stupid word like “no” stop them. They are a good-natured, adventurous brood; risk takers whose only real crime is they can’t seem to contain all their energy and excitement.

That was me! Every one of my middle school report cards included the comment, “needs to practice self-control”, scribbled with the teacher's all-too-familiar red felt tip pen. I didn’t even know what that meant! Aside from losing tv priveleges. Forever.

In any case, I have no problem with bratty kids. Bratty kids rule! What I DON’T like is a selfish, spoiled and over indulged child. A mean-spirited terror, who demands their parents give them WHATEVER THEY WANT, NO MATTER HOW RIDICULOUS OR UNREASONABLE THE REQUEST. You know the type: loud, disrespectful, begins every sentence with “I want" and tops it off with a deeply unsettling, ear-piercing scream. They are the “bad nuts” of the bunch. And they are simply not cute. 

What a beastly girl.

But I think my least favorite kids, the ones that really get under my skin are the precocious types who behave like adults. They. Are. The. Worst. 

Most child actors fall under this group. I've interviewed them frequently on Disney red carpets. And have also encountered my fair share among the home schooling set that for some odd reason love to frequent coffee shops. I just want to scream out to them--

You’re a freakin’  kid! GO PLAY.  

You should be snickering at fart noises in the corner. Or jumping around in a bouncy castle. Because bouncy things are A-W-E-S-O-M-E. You should NOT be talking about the economy. Or tectonic plate movements. Or young Hollywood! It's disturbing. And wrong. Just... STOP IT.

Think I'm exaggerating? Fine. Check out this interview clip of Cecilia Cassini, a sassssy ten-year-old fashion designer who clearly keeps up with the Kardashians. If you can make it to the end without wanting to punch your ovaries. Or her parents

You’re a better person than me. I can't. And I like kids.

P.S. On a somewhat related note, when I was a kid, I watched A LOT OF TV. And I think if I ever met any of my childhood tv idols, like Mr. Rogers or the Magic Garden women (LUUUUV them!). I'd probably have this same reaction.  My cousin's four-year-old acted this way when she ran into one of the Fresh Beat Band "kids" recently at a kiddie party (it was the the black guy; he was friends with one of the parents). She was absolutely traumatized. It was priceless! 

Don't be in such a rush to grow up, Ms. Cecilia. Childhood has its moments.   

Saturday, October 15, 2011


Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable...
because I listened to pop music?

I recently broke up with someone who I’ve been dating for over a year. Or at least, I’m assuming we’ve broken up since I haven’t seen or heard from the coward in weeks. (Oh, that post is coming. Just. You. WAIT).

And I’ve spent a lot of that time listening to some pretty sad, not-AT-ALL-romantic and yes, even angry songs as my heart tries to recover from the ass-kicking.

Let’s face it, when you’re heartbroken, nothing is more comforting than a well-crafted pop tune that speaks directly to your experience. Hell, even the sappiest Mariah Carey ballad can take on new meaning and resonance when you’re in pain! But some songs seem to DEFINE a breakup. They’re like the wedding anthems of heartache, the ones that say, "here, take my hand bitch, we’re gonna get through this," after an emotional cripple snatches your heart, stomps on it and then throws it back in your face.

These are the five breakup songs that spoke to me. All by women. Go. Figure. 

This timely jam was all over the radio during the first two weeks of our "breakup", when Mr. Moody officially became a missing person. I honestly didn’t believe it was over and felt confident he’d eventually call. I was still in the denial phase.

But somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain, I started to think, WHAT IF he never calls? And this is really the end? How do I feel? Am I mad/glad/sad/devastated?

I wanted to believe that I would be fine; that I was completely over him.  And someday, I’d look back and think, thank God I dodged the bullet. Everything worked out for the best. I am in a far better place. And I should really say, thanks baby, good lookin’ out.

If I sang along with enough attitude, I could almost convince myself that were all true.


At some point, it began to sink in that the relationship was over. And I started to get mad. REALLY mad. At the sudden, unexpected way things ended. 

Without a call. Or an email. Or even a damn post it note?! Nothing. It’s like the man woke up one day and forgot I ever existed. I mean, seriously, WHO DOES THAT?!  

I refused to believe someone I cared so deeply about could be that callous.

Yet, every time I checked my cell, hoping to find a text saying goodbye or at the very least I’m sorry, there was nothing there. And I just wanted to scream--


Thanks to Kelis, I had a catchy chorus to accompany the angry sentiment.   

I’ll admit it’s been hard for me to walk away because I don’t feel any real sense of closure. If only I knew, WHY he chose to bail on this relationship. I desperately needed to know.

Was it ME? Did I do something wrong? Could I have done anything differently? Maybe I didn’t try hard enough? I’ve analyzed every last detail of our time together, searching for any explanation for this sudden change of heart. Made. Myself. Crazy.  

Then I heard Gaga's Speechless, which included the lyric: baby you gave up, you gave up. And I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. That’s the answer! He gave up. Plain and simple. I hit play, then repeat, several times. There was nothing left to say.

Friend, you've left me speechless. So...speechless.

Breakups are HARD! And there is no escaping the pain. No matter where you run, or how many lies you tell yourself, sooner or later, it catches up to you. There's no choice but to surrender. And have a cryfest.   

Amy Winehouse had died. It was incredibly sad. They played this song in tribute on the radio. Everything. Went. Black. Bawled like a baby. Felt good to let it all out.  

I remember watching Adele’s "Someone Like You" VMA performance for the first time.

I thought, my God, she was clearly in pain when she wrote that song. Its pure, unfiltered heartbreak! And she performed it from the very depths of her soul. I was moved to tears, like most genuine music fans.

For me, Adele’s stirring ballad is the ULTIMATE BREAKUP SONG.   

It certainly helped get me through the final stages of my breakup. And now that I’ve turned a corner, it seems fitting there is a new, happier version hitting the airwaves.   

When I heard the Someone Like You Remix, it instantly bought me back to my clubbing days. When I’d dance away all my boyfriend woes at some gay club with my girlfriends, flanked by our fellow Queens, singing along to songs that celebrated our fierceness. Because nobody could break our spirit, especially not some stupid guy.

Well past my partying prime, this remix is now my go-to jam on the treadmill. And when I’m feeling sad, I imagine being at the club, surrounded by my girls who say:

Forget that bitch!
You’re single. You’re free. And you’re fabulous.
Let’s have fun and celebrate.

Suddenly, I run with a renewed vigor, knowing everything will be o.k. 

I didn't break. And that's something worth celebrating.


Thursday, October 13, 2011


I want you to look in that mirror, and I want you to repeat after me:
"I am a worthy human being."

When life gets stressful and chaotic, I take a moment to give myself a small pep talk.

Because sometimes a few positive words of encouragement are exactly what I need to get me through the rough patches. Whether it's to inspire me, boost my spirits or simply light a fire under my lazy ass; that gentle nudge helps put me back on track. 

So Note to self: here are some friendly reminders to help you stay focused

1. I will wake up early everyday and go to the gym. NO MORE EXCUSES.

2. I will write something brilliant. Because I am a talented writer. With skills. 

3. I will have a productive day. And I will NOT waste hours on stupid internet shit, like googling horrible diseases that I might potentially die from.

4. I will find joy in the little things.

5. I will not give into negative thoughts or emotions.

6. I will not let idiots steal my joy. Not even the obnoxious man sitting next to me in the coffee shop right now, who is making the most GOD AWFUL chewing sounds as he devours a panini.

7. Remember: IT’S OK NOT TO BE PERFECT. So cut yourself some damn slack.

8. AND NO, YOU ARE NOT A LOSER because you can’t get through everything on your to-do list. Or because you’re unemployed. Or single. Or flabby. Or your hair is a frizzy mess this week! These things do not define who you are as a person.

9. Haters gonna hate. Don’t let ‘em make you feel bad about yourself.

10. Follow your gut. Trust your instincts. And have faith that everything will work out.

11. Stop overthinking everything, including this post. Go. With. The. Flow.

12. You will make mistakes. You will fail. You will survive. 

13. Be true to yourself.

14. Most important!! Remember to have fun, live in the moment and enjoy your life...and



I'm done. I just...I can't. 

15. FINISH THIS POST! And maybe revisit #5 and #6.

P.S. You’re fabulous. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
1. STUART SAVES HIS FAMILY (1995) Writer: Al Franken