I live by the beach where I can smell the breeze of the ocean. It's fabulous, except for times like now when there's an unsavory stench in the breeze and it smells like a thousand sardines committed mass suicide on my porch. Ah...nature. It's one of those pieces of information that never get written about possibly because they might be bad for the real estate market. Come to think of it, brochures on beach living don't come with a scrat-n'-sniff.

Just for today, I accept all the realities of living by the ocean.

My acting class may start to replace therapy as my new therapy. I need somewhere to vent the feelings caused by the instability of my financial life (not to imply, in any way, that my personal life is a bastion of stability, but that's another blog...), and I worry that my therapist is tired of hearing about it.
Last night I worked on my best sultry, hip-swaying stroll and southern drawl, so when I read,"You can be young without money, but you can't be old without it!" I sounded like a sexy cat
on a hot tin roof, and not someone negotiating with her creditors. Either I was poor white southern trash in a past life, or Tennessee Williams really gets me. That was a really fun scene.

However, at one point, I got stuck playing Cordelia and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't quite muster up the compassion for Daddy Lear. I kept trying to sound angelic and sincere, but what came out was more Kelly Osbourne-ish.

Just for today, I can study acting.

Last night I talked some friends into seeing "Flight Plan." One of them wanted to see a foreign film, but I was in a mood to see Mindless American Entertainment (M.A.E.). To make a long story short, there were some pretty large holes in the storyline. I guess it's hard to write a screenplay about a child getting lost in an airplane. The part where nobody remembers her getting on the plane is a little bit of a stretch and Peter Sarsgaard is just a little too soft to really be a scary villain (Gary Oldman rocks in this dept.). But I STILL LIKED IT!

However, my friends were another story. I suppose I've reached a point in my maturation as an American Media Consumer where my expectations are so low that feasibility is no longer a requirement for my enjoyment of entertainment. I don't expect movies and TV shows to make sense. "Friends" live in a New York City where there are no black, hispanic, non-white people (not that I liked this show). If that's OK, then surely an entire flight crew can forget one extra child on a plane...am I making a point? I'm pretty sure I am.

Just for today, I can suspend my disbelief for M.A.E., even if others can not.

I just babysat some adorably sassy girls who were very happy to inform me that they loved my fish net top (though one said that her mother would "SO make me wear a shirt underneath") and that they like being home schooled because they wake up whenever they damn well please. (Having surveyed both the public and private schools in Los Angeles, I have to say, it doesn't seem like a bad alternative for families who can afford to keep a parent at home). These girls wake up around 9ish, knock out some school work for 2 to 3 hours, and spend the rest of the day playing and doing after-school activities like basketball and acting. It's during those activities that they get "socialized" with the exhausted masses of "normal" kids who are trudging through the daily grind of a 9-3 schedule.

I could kind of relate to their embracing of this lifestyle. In my current incarnation I have about five or six different jobs that range from writing to babysitting to web design and that can be performed, for the most part, at any time of the day or night. There's no such thing as a work week for me anymore. While there's no guranteed income, I haven't really suffered financially and, I have to say, being out of the daily 9 - 5 grind is far more conducive to watching movies from the 80's till the wee hours of the morning and maintaining the conceit of that I am an"artist" (which is, essentially, redundant).

The point is (and there is a point...I think): I don't have to do things like everybody else and even though I could be a very, very, very, VERY young grandmother, I just donwanna act like a grown-up (i.e., in my understanding, someone not happy).

Just for today, I can have a chill life.

So, what is up with this rain?! I moved to Los Angeles to enjoy sunny weather 24/7. I haven't even had a chance to put away my collection of tank tops, and I'm having to pull out my one sweater. Not to mention, that a tropical rain storm in September (in Los Angeles) is just plain creepy.

So, what's up? Would you like a cup of coffee (I myself am abstaining one sorry day at at time)? No? Ok, let's get down to business. I liked your work in "Bruce Almighty," not so good in New Orleans. I know, I know. You didn't build a city sea below sea level without proper protection, and you didn't elect George Bush (I take responsibility for not doing more to prevent that unnatural disaster). But come on! Not to be gossipy or anything, but people talk about you all the time, and some people are starting to say that maybe you're not ALL THAT.

The truth is, I've never really been able to embrace the idea of a God/Higher Power or even a "the universe." These days, I'm starting to wonder if maybe you're just a source us mortals need to turn to, like a river stream, or even Target. A place to go and buy the goods. Only, instead of tampons, those goods are love, faith, and trust. Because if you can love an orchid or a giraffe or even algae (which, is technically, living), then surely you can love me. And anyone who can put that much attention to detail into making a baboon's butt has surely got some time on his/her hands!

I hope you've enjoyed this little chat. I gotta go to yoga, but let's talk later.

Just for today, I can talk to God.

I broke down and drank coffee. There, I said it. It's public, so now I can breathe. For two whole months I abstained from caffeine one tortuous day at a time. Occasionally, I would hover around Peete's or the Coffee Bean like a soccer mom or trust fund recipient (what else are these people doing in the middle of the day?) and then just when I got to the cash register my Inner-Big-Black-Woman-Cop would kick-in with a megaphone and shout "Young lady, step away from the coffee bar!" And I would run like an addict in withdrawl and say to myself, "Boy, that was a close one." Anyway, last week the stress got to be so much that my Inner-Big-Black-Woman-Cop went on vacation to Puerto Vallarta and I was left totally vulnerable to the whims of my desires. So, of course, I marched into Coffee Bean and ordered a mocha thinking that if this stuff is so harmful why is there a coffee shop on every corner? Forgetting, of course, that a) I have a proven allergy to caffeine, b) in certain areas of Los Angeles there are liquor stores on every corner (does that make it healthy?) and c) that Vicadin is totally legal. The truth is (and I think Chris Rock said it about donuts or something) there's gotta be more than just coffee in that dark liquid... and don't act like you don't know it! It feels that good.

Anyway, it didn't stop with just ONE mocha and I'm paying for it now. My bladder has an acid reflex and by the third day my system was fully contaminated. I read somewhere today that people crave what they are allergic to, which means that I will probably have to abstain from HBO in the near future. For now, I'm in bed recovering from my coffee-binge. I've hooked up my computer so I can write and blog from bed, which leads me to ask myself, "why did I buy a desk in the first place?" This way, if I want to take a nap, all I have to do is close my eyes (I can respect laziness).

Just for today, I can't (sob) drink coffee.

Of all the hurricane-related acts of generosity that have taken place to make up for the blatant racist disregard of that guy who lives in the White House, the fact that Mexico sent their army to feed evacuees and Red Cross volunteers touches me the most. We treat Mexicans like criminals for coming over here to clean our yards, pick our fruit, and take care of our children (though, if we really didn't want them to come, we could always not hire them). And yet, they respond with an open hearted generosity, like a poor family willing to share their meal with a hostile stranger. It's humbling, really. In the last few weeks I have felt embarrassed, shamed, and rageful by the events that transpired following the hurricane, and finally, humbled by the benevolence of people and countries like Mexico. They come to us with love and forgiveness.

However, I do have to say, I see growth in Bush. He did take responsibility for his "mistake" today. I'm glad he's being gentle with himself. I'm still beating myself up for the time I let my dad's car roll down the hill and that didn't leave anyone suffering from hunger, thirst, and heat stroke for days on end. This man has blood on his hands, if you ask me, but sometimes it takes a low bottom before some people will wake up.

Perhaps I can be like Mexico and forgive the mistakes of my country and it's "elected" leaders.

Just for today, I am humbled by acts of kindness.

I just stood in an elevator with a guy who works in my building. It's a small building, so this was the first time I had shared this space with someone else. It's one thing to be in a big crowded elevator with lots of people avoiding eye contact. But when it's just two people, there's a much higher degree of weirdness in the air. Especially when you're traveling one floor and there's not even time for tension relieving chit-chat. So, we both studied the slow progress of our one floor journey with the concentration of Superman using his X-ray vision.

Look at our shoes. Look up at the floor monitor (is that what it's called?). Check on floor again. Look up again.

All out of fear of seeing the soul the person I share elevator space with...

Just for today, I can examine my fear.

My father came in today to help me paint my apartment (three walls will be porcelain and one will be sage). Our relationship has changed dramatically in the last few years, to the point where it's starting to feel like a not-so-small miracle. I haven't always felt exactly safe to share my true self with this man who I have sometimes feared and sometimes loathed, but thanks to the magic of therapy and I don't know what, this relationship seems to be turning into a healthy and loving one. I don't know if I have changed, or he has changed, or maybe both. What has brought this on could be credited to tragedy and loss, or a commitment to personal improvement on both our parts. I don't really know. For years, nothing I did changed anything, and then suddenly everyone and everything started to change on their own.

I'm not sure how life works, but I am starting to believe that for each and every day, absolutely anything is possible.

Just for today, I am humbled by the mystery of life.

I can't believe Bush is heading an investigation on the failure of the federal government to respond adequately to the victims of Hurricane Katrina.

What IS he thinking? Possibilities, include:

"What a mess. Who's running this show anyway?!"
"Thank God for the foreign aid! If it didn't come along, we'd never be able to pass the tax cut."
"Are they sure that New Orleans is America? Are they absolutely sure?"

Just for today, I can offer scathing criticism of our nation's "leader."

Between watching TV and watching TV, I haven't had a moment to write in my blog. This is the most heart-breaking national tragedy I've ever experienced (albeit via the media). I feel for the lives of poor people of color (black, Latino, etc.) in general (not to imply, in any way, that this is of any use to anybody, but it is true). But to have the F.G. (Federal Government...I just can't say it outside of parantheticals) respond to the needs of so many thousands of people with such a laxidaisical, ho-hum attitude, just pushes my own trauma/pain/abandonment issues to the nth degree. I know the feeling of "Why the hell isn't any one doing anything about this situation?! Why doesn't any one care?!" I feel it when I visit public schools in Los Angeles and I felt it in my childhood. And I know the pain of asking for help from people who can't or don't care to give it to you. But unlike any of these experiences in my lifetime, this was/is a real life or death situation for thousands of people.

What was/is Bush thinking?! Possibilities, include:

"You mean it's still going on?! When's it gonna be fixed?"
"Can terrorists create hurricanes?...I wonder."
"Do I have to go down there, again?! I was just there last week!"
"Boy it must suck to be black and poor in America."

Over the last few days I feel so grateful for a functioning toilet, for a warm bed, for a spacious private apartment, and beautiful weather. My life feels excessively blessed.

Just for today, I pray for the Katrina victims and am grateful for my own life.

There aren't words to describe the outrage and sadness I feel for the hardships of the refugees from Hurricane Katrina. THIS is the most powerful, wealthiest country in the world?! THIS is the first world? What is wrong with our federal government?! We can organize elections/wars/coups in other countries, but we can't get food and water to our own? If this had happened in Iraq, there would be more organization, it would have been taken care of by now.

While I wouldn't have it work out this way, at the very least the world see's the neglect the United States has paid to itself while focusing so hard on presumed "terrorist threats" from half-way across the world. While I know many whites and others have suffered in this tragedy, the truth is that being black and poor in the US is an unofficial crime and the federal government clearly doesn't see these people as worthy enough of the immediate aid any well-to-do white community would receive in minutes of a similar ordeal. It's the truth and I'm tired of participating in the covert lies of this country by not writing about it enough. This is the land of injustice, an outrageous and growing inequitable distribution of wealth, and a very insidious unspoken racism. And the tragic result is the situation in New Orleans that we see today.

I take responsibility for this. Yes, I do. I was not out there doing everything in my power to keep that spoiled vacationing, lying, patronizing nimwit out of office. But I've had it. I'm ready for 2008.

For tonight, besides giving money to Red Cross, all I can do is pray that the refugees get their basic needs met and the support to rebuild their lives.

Just for today, my heart goes out to the victims of Hurrican Katrina.