Today was the no good very bad day. Not really. Yet it was long, fraught with errand-running and driving (I used up half a tank in the last twenty-four hours, which is just pathetic). I suppose it was mostly a "wins" day. Yet here I find myself, at 10:09pm, sitting upright in bed with my back propped up against three pillows. I am physically exhausted and emotionally depleted, and my brain has the nerve to keep on running that endless marathon of thoughts. Ah, me.
Last night, I agreed to go out to a dance club with one of the cooks from work, as friends. That simple caveat never quite gets across to the other party, I'm afraid. While the club, a Hispanic club named Leonardo's, was truly enjoyable, due largely to the dancing (read: not grinding), wine, and kind strangers, I became hesitant when said chef - who frequently calls me things like "mami" and "corazon" and "amor" - wouldn't let me cover my entrance fee or wine. Yet it wasn't until one am - when I flat-out insisted that I had to go home in order to get up and teach yoga a mere five hours later - that my "friend" walked me to my car and tried to kiss me. Now, I understand this might seem flattering to some, but I was just upset. I find that it is hard to become friends with women here because they are often in competition with you, and it is difficult to befriend males because they want to hook up with you. I abhor all of the cat-calls, the ogling, the flirting out here. I came home and teared up, sorely missing my close guy friends, like Veeren, and Samarth, and Clint, and Miles, and Matt, and my other dear men who know a thing or two about respect AND about goofiness. What I wouldn't give to go back to those sweet summers of sixteen and seventeen, when I could stay up talking to both guy and girl friends until the wee hours of the morning, completely stress-free and relatively innocent. Those were indeed the days.
To sum up my day in a nutshell, I woke up at 6am, drove out to teach yoga to two Co-Presidents at a company out in Industry, CA, from 7-8am, drove back and got home by 9am, watched "MEDIUM" and cycled for thirty minutes, hopped in the shower, blow-dried my hair and attempted to magically erase the eye bags from my lack of sleep and mild wine hangover, hastily made a sandwich and grabbed an apple for the road, drove out to Manhattan Beach (a 45-minute drive one-way) for a 12:15pm callback, did my audition - which consisted of sitting in a chair, sobbing, and pretending to be strangled to death - in under five minutes, saw two CMU classmates (to great relief and warm fuzzies), stopped at a grocery store for some fruit, made a phone call to the yoga studio, drove to my bank to get a cashier's check, headed over to AFTRA around 2pm (I am now an official member of the - ahem, better - union for aspiring professional "starvationists"), ingested my delicious sandwich from stoplight to stoplight in Hollywood, stopped off at the post office to mail ten headshots and resumes out to projects currently casting, did laundry at the local laundromat from 2:30-4:15pm, rushed home to hang-dry my damp clothes at 4:25pm, drove over to Sunset-Gower studios for a 5pm fitting for a call tomorrow (where the costume woman commented, when she thought I was out of ear range, that I was "a lot bigger than Moretta (the character I'm working as a lookalike for tomorrow), but a pretty blond" - OUCH..), checked out Shoe Warehouse and Ross from 6-7:30pm (in search of some black and tan strappy sandals for tomorrow's call - no luck on the tan), made it home and scarfed down another sandwich around 8pm, talked to the boyfriend for a brief twenty minutes, looked up fitness classes at the YMCA (which I can't actually afford) and tried to schedule personal workouts so I can be less of a gargantuan out here in Hollywood (ugh), dashed over to Target at 9:15pm to check there for tan strappy heels (no luck), and was home at 10pm, absolutely exhausted and needing to go to bed.
As I have a 10am call in Valencia tomorrow for "Outlaw", I shall now endeavor to get some shut-eye, so that I can get up and work out at 5am.
Oh lord, please send me a vacation. Or a weapon.
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