STILL DREAMING ABOUT SCARY MONSTERS

 

I had another weird dream last night, this one starring my mother.

It’s not surprising considering she’s been on my mind, since we stopped speaking over Christmas. Or rather, she stopped speaking to me. And I went along with it. Because a) Its easier b) I don’t have the energy and c) I can’t argue with CRAZY.

You see my mom got into a heated argument with my youngest sister right before my yearly holiday visit. So she was seething mad. And believe me when I say, you don’t want to make this woman angry. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry.

One minute she’s all Carol-Brady-sunshine/unintentially hilarious/cornball mom, smothering me with hugs and lighting candles for me at church so God will “send me a man”. Next minute. Her eyes grow dark. And it’s like: Whoa! Every man for himself! Imagine the hulk’s blind rage coupled with an oldschool Nuyorican, oh-it’s-ON-bitch attitude, delivered with a soul-penetrating glare. Shit. Is. Scary. Trust me.

We all go a little mad sometimes.

 

By the time I arrived at my mom’s NJ home, she was already in top fighting form. After greeting me with a pained smile that killed any silly hope for a drama-free holiday, Scary Mom recounted the latest showdown in the never-ending saga of the Drama Twins—a tragic tale that ends with my sister’s banishment to the isle of evil daughters.

The battle lines were drawn. And my mom demanded that I "choose sides".

Now, I could have easily chosen ‘Team Mom’ and agreed not to talk to my sister. Or visit.  Or even acknowledge her existence. But as that petite figure stood there with one gold-clad hand on her hip, giving me the same evil glare that made my pulse quicken and my stomach sink when I was a child. A shady voice in my head said:

Hold. Up. I’m not nine anymore. I’m a grown ass woman!

You can’t tell me what to do or who to talk to anymore.

I AIN’T AFRAID OF YOU.

Rather than cower, I chose to stand my ground and speak to her like a rational adult.

That woman, she's crazy. There's no telling what she'll do.

My response:

I really don’t want to get involved. I see my family once a year. And all I want is to spend quality time with everybody, including the-evil-bitch-who-hates-her-mother. I’m sorry you guys are fighting. But I refuse to pick a side. I choose 'Team Neutral'….

C’mon. It’s Christmas! A time for family! Can’t we all just get along? (smiles stupidly)

Scary mom’s response:

Storms off angrily. Slams dining room door behind her. Never speaks to me again.

And just like that I joined my sister on our teeny island of evil, selfish children. 

I should've never gotten on that plane. I should've never gotten out of the car.

Because in Crazytown, where Scary mom reigns and logic and reason don’t exist (and evil children are banished), my response was seen as an act of betrayal. And the punishment was the silent treatment. Which for the record includes a lot of slamming doors, exaggerated eyerolls, random nonsensical outbursts and her glaring at the tv for hours with a look that screams, STAY..THE..HELL..AWAY.

Mostly I avoided her, reverting back to my nine-year-old self—afraid to do or say anything that might set off the wicked tyrant—I scurried away like a timid mouse whenever she approached. I planned a lot of day trips, visited family and spent the nights locked away in a cramped spare room watching Netflix. Being ignored.  

It was the longest holiday week in my life. And she wonders why I don’t visit more!

Anyway, I’m back in L.A. now. She’s still not speaking to me. And like I said earlier, I had this really weird dream about her last night.

Basically, she was a possessed monster who came after me. I remember her eyes turning “Hulk White” as a voice inside said: Uh-oh. RUN BITCH..Save yourself!!  

Shit, you must got the devil in you!

So I ran around trying to get away. And as she chased me all over HER HOUSE (a psychiatrist would have a field day with this dream), I just kept thinking:

She’s my mom. What the hell can I do?...

Unlike the last dream, I don’t need to consult a dream dictionary to decipher this one.

Despite the fact that I’m a smart, independent grown-ass woman with my own damn life, living on the opposite side of the country; that tiny Rican lady still scares the living crap out of me.

But what the hell can I do. She’s my mom. And I love the crazy bitch.

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MOVIE STILLS & QUOTABLES: 
1. PSYCHO (1960) Writers: Joseph Stefano,Robert Bloch
2. FOXY BROWN (1974) Writer: Jack Hill
3. CAST AWAY (2000) Writer: William Broyles Jr.
4. I'M GONNA GIT YOU SUCKA (1988) Writer: Keenan Ivory Wayans

WHO KNEW REPTILES COULD BE SO INSPIRING

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...

THE LIZARD COMES WITH A MESSAGE ABOUT OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO RECOGNIZE THESE HIDDEN GIFTS AND SKILLS THAT WE MAY AVOID HARM AND LIVE FREELY AND HAPPILY AS WE ARE DESIGNED TO LIVE.

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...

WHEN I AM ABLE TO EMBRACE ALL THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF ME,

TO LOVE MYSELF AND EVERYTHING THAT MAKES ME UNIQUE,

I WILL REALIZE MY FULL POTENTIAL AND LIVE A HAPPY, FULFILLING LIFE.

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

Four little lizards told me so.

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MOVIE STILLS & QUOTABLES: 
1. RANGO (2011) Writers: John Logan, Gore Verbinski, James Ward, Byrkit
2. WHATEVER WORKS (2009) Writer: Woody Allen
3. INCEPTION (2010) Writers: Christopher Nolan

RANDOM MONDAY THOUGHTS

“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.

HAPPY THOUGHT FOR THE WEEK: 

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.

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MOVIE STILLS & QUOTABLES: 
1. GROUNDHOG DAY (1993) Writers: Danny Rubin, Harold Ramis 

REMIND ME AGAIN WHY I WANT A JOB?

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.

AND MOST IMPORTANTLY….

I DON’T WANT TO EVER SELL MY SOUL FOR A PAYCHECK AND A GREAT BENEFITS PACKAGE; SPENDING MY DAYS IN A

POORLY LIT CUBICLE WHERE I STARE AT A SCREEN....

AND WASTE AWAY IN SILENT MISERY.

 
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.

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

SOME KIDS ARE SIMPLY NOT CUTE

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....

SOME CHILDREN ARE RATHER ANNOYING.

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.   

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MOVIE STILLS & QUOTABLES: 
1. THE SCHOOL OF ROCK (2003) Writer: Mike White
2. THE SOCIAL NETWORK (2010) Writers: Aaron Sorkin, Ben Mezrich
3. CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY (2005) Writers: Roald Dahl, John August