The last few months have been a whirlwind, and I am learning more and more as I experience life in Los Angeles, on my own, that your life plays out in the way that eventually makes sense, that connects you with the people and with the experiences you are meant to encounter at the appropriate times, but that trying to guess about it, or to make some sort of sense of it all, is a silly little endeavor. Life has a way of sailing you down little waterways and back alleys you had no idea even existed. Trying to remain graceful amidst it all is a constant, lifelong work which I shall forever be honing. Yet the rough corners and gasp-inducing sights are exciting, and make the balancing act all worthwhile at days' end.
The early spring brought several acting opportunities my direction, including the previously mentioned commercial for "The Morning After" on Hulu, as well as the "Yeah Do It!" Nike spec shoot with Nina and Kristopher (which involved the car hit and Parkour running in Griffith park), and a rollerblading shoot for "Viaplay", the Scandinavian version of Hulu (lots of Hulu in my life in 2011, it would seem). Each was fun and rewarding in its own way, and all good networking opportunities. It is still slightly bizarre to have old friends from long ago get in touch to say, "Hey, I think I just saw you on Hulu!". Considering it was such a minor roll, I am touched that people have taken the time to send well-wishes.
March continued to bring fun and exciting things. My good friend Michael and I headed out to the Santa Monica pier one early morning at 7am to do a fun summery photo shoot, for which he had re-acquired a super spiffy camera for (we had to keep sand from touching it so he could return it afterward; ah, the life of poor and struggling recent graduates!). Although it was a crisp morning, and rain had been predicted, we actually had quite a successful shoot, which incorporated bright balloons and umbrellas. The random early-morning jogger got a smile out of seeing our whimsical excursion, and we laughed every time the frigid waves snuck up on me, trying to maintain composure for the camera. Later that morning, I auditioned for and booked a modeling gig for a jeans' line. Ironically, the photographer who auditioned me, a gruff hippie in his 50s, thought I might not have a big enough badonkadonk, seeing as the jeans' line was targeting latina and black women, and the owner had rejected the last cute Latina girl. Yet a few days later, I got a call and had booked the job. Only in Los Angeles does one half of your industry tell you to starve yourself skinny, and the other side use you as a jeans' model due to your obnoxiously large assets.
Having taught Mario yoga for around six months, he asked me if I would like to teach himself and ten other CEOs at a small business retreat he leads each year in Napa. I of course jumped at this opportunity, which turned out to be my first [fully-paid!] business trip, and for teaching Power Yoga. I purchased ten yoga mats in Los Angeles the week before, loaded them into a large suitcase, and flew out to Oakland, California (close to San Francisco) late on a Thursday. From there, I picked up a rental car and drove out to the Napa area. I arrived after midnight and was absolutely starving, after every gas station in a twenty-mile radius had seemed to be closed at that hour. I checked in and went to my room, which was a delightful little private room at a very rustic, expensive bed and breakfast in the heart of wine country. There was a crackling fireplace, soft acoustic guitar music playing, and a bottle of regional wine waiting for my exhausted self. I snuggled into the lush comforter and ordered room service for the first time in my life: a spinach salad with walnuts and a spectacular Balsamic dressing, and a small serving of dense Chocolate mousse for dessert. While I don't necessarily mind being a struggling actor, it is pretty nice to kick back and indulge when the opportunity presents itself.
The next morning, I met Mario in the lobby at 7:15am, and we drove a bit down the small country road to a hillside overlooking many of the local vineyards. He said, "well, this is it, just set up the mats how you like, and I'll walk over with the guys in about twenty." The entire yoga part of the retreat had been planned as a surprise. He then added, "and look out for yourself. These guys are good guys, but they're all wealthy, all used to getting what they want. You're a cute blond yoga teacher, so don't be surprised if they act up. Just stand up to them." I wasn't sure what to expect from this, but it ended up going smoothly. After clearing a section of ground of any small sticks and rocks and cow manure - yes, cow manure - I unrolled the ten mats, lit some incense I had brought with me, and waited. At this point, the ten or so resident cattle meandered over to inspect what strange creature was setting up this bizarre little circus act on their morning meal. Now, having grown up in the country, I am not afraid of cows. However, when more than one cow gets bold enough to attempt to eat the yoga mats, and a couple definitely have long horns, even a Texas girl starts to wonder. But after a few minutes, the cows decided I was no longer interesting, and they wandered away.
The guys showed up - all very much surprised - and were actually wonderful sports about doing an hour of yoga on a sunny hillside at 8am. They didn't laugh, or joke, but simply tried something which was, for most of them (save a couple who had married yogi wives), a completely new experience. This fact was humbling and at the same time gave me some confidence as I led ten men of varying athletic abilities through up dogs and warrior threes. On the way back, one did hand me a business card and advise me to, "call if you stick around later today," but I smiled and politely explained that I was flying back right away to meet up with some friends arriving from the east coast. I drove back to the hotel, managed to quickly steal some bread pudding and fruit from the exquisite breakfast spread which had been laid out, and hopped in my car for the drive back to Oakland. I was back in Los Angeles to pick up Josh from the airport around 3pm (Veeren at the house with Matt, after having arrived a day earlier), and ready to begin our "Epic Friendcation 2011".
Oh our roadtrip. Where do I even begin to describe the incredible amount of goofiness, fun, shenanigans, and utter randomness we got up to that week?? "Epic" was not a lie when we named the trip afterward.
Friday night, after Josh joined our group in WeHo, we met up with Annie and Ian, two other CMU alumni, as Annie was visiting from Dallas for a bit. We grabbed some delicious Thai food, pre-gamed for a bit at my bungalow, and headed to a small local club named Little Temple for some dancing and laughing. We were not disappointed. One friend had a bit too much to drink and threw a glass on the floor in the bathroom - thinking it was plastic - and the next thing I knew, Matt was next to me with this total look of awe, explaining what he had just seen happen. We eventually stumbled home and tucked in in various nooks and crannies of my apartment. At one point during the week, we would get the body count up to seven, which is a ridiculous amount of persons to be sleeping in my studio apartment. But what are friends for, if not to fall over on your way to the loo at 4am?
Saturday morning, we woke up bright and early to head to the Malibu Pier, for a Power Yoga session, followed by a day spent frolicking and picnicking on the beach. Yoga was so energizing, and I was elated to have such close friends in my class, all together, with the sea and the mountains all around us. Our picnic, which we pieced together after a quick run down the road to the [very spiffy] Malibu Ralph's, was delicious, even though a seagull managed to get away with a full-sized submarine sandwich, which should be impossible, according to the laws of physics; gravity-defying seagulls, ladies and gentlemen. We threw giant palm fronds, hunted fro special sea shells, did yoga poses, took "jumping shots", and did a lot of it all over once Samarth arrived in the mid-afternoon, having spent all morning driving down from Berkeley in San Francisco. We then drove over to Venice for a couple of hours, where we checked out the skate park, the street vendors and the strong men, and managed to lose Veeren for twenty minutes to a large crowd of hippie-dancers out on the beach.
Saturday night, we all crammed into Samarth's car and drove to LAX to pick up Arlie, the final puzzle piece in our Epic Friendcation mash-up. While we were delayed in getting out of the door due to some crazy antics by one of my neighbors, we did eventually make it to lovely Arlie, and then to SK and Craig's house in North Hollywood for a party. I remember very little about this party, as I was exhausted and fully stretched out and took a nap when the drinking games started up. When I woke up, everyone else was either tipsy or drunk, yet the incriminating photographs all point to me as the drunkard, due to some clever beer bottle placement. See what lovely chums I have found? We once again stumbled home and crammed our bodies into random places and crashed, early in the wee hours of Sunday morning.
Sunday morning, we dragged ourselves out of the apartment and headed over to the Hollywood Farmer's Market, where, just as I had done with my little brother last summer, I got everyone addicted to the sweet sticky rice from the little Thai vendor stall. We moseyed around and purchased some items for our wine and cheese party that evening, then met up with Pasha and Emmett at Griffith Park for an afternoon hike and picnic. During our hike down, we ended up getting split up, so myself, Samarth, Pasha and Emmett sprinted down various rabbit trails for a solid twenty minutes, trying to beat what looked like ominous rain clouds. At the same time, Arlie took a bit of a stumble while hiking down with Matt, Veeren, and Josh. So when we reached the car, panting and feeling accomplished, and phoned Josh to find this out, Samarth and I were horrified. Josh told us that he couldn't talk long because they were trying to find a ranger, and then we heard sirens in the background of the phone call, and Samarth and I both went white. We drove up to the Observatory, hoping to find Arlie being treated or taken to a hospital, and were confused to see the four of them walking toward the car. Arlie had a gnarly scrape, but no worse, and it turned out that Josh had thought we knew he was joking. After we got over our ten-minute heart attacks, we all headed back to West Hollywood to prep for that evening's Wine & Cheese Party.
Our Sunday night wine & cheese party, although a cozy little affair, was lovely. We had jazz music, a la 1930s, candles, cheese, wine, good conversations, a suspenseful round of "Never Have I Ever", and even an impromptu game of limbo with a snowboard. Even after the guests left, we stayed awake, discussing the merits of Pinot Grigios and Merlots, and willing ourselves awake for those late-night conversations that leave you giggling and shushing each other, out of fear that the neighbors might yell.
(More to come on the busy whirlwind tomorrow....)
