Time for Bullets

Bullet POINTS. Too pooped to write one coherent post.

* Had a horrid weekend -- stayed up all Saturday, slept all Sunday. Thought Jack and I were going to see "The Incredibles" tonight but we got in another tiff and that blew that. How is it we can't even see a MOVIE together anymore? We already don't eat together... geez.

* I got pissed off and saw "Bridget Jones" instead -- but because it's a HUGH GRANT movie, not because of Renee Z. -- I loved "Jerry McGuire" and Chicago, but... but... well, she was cute in this I guess. All I kept thinking was that she got paid a lot $$$ to gain weight and have big boobs, she should at least keep 'em. The pacing was a bit off (I knew what was going to happen before it did and it bugs the sh*t out of me when that happens), I got a bothered by the Thai girls but I don't know why (don't worry, that wasn't a spoiler) ... but overall, a sweet, little film. I wanted to see something balls-out hilarious... this was just sweet. And maybe I'm getting ready for a Colin Firth in my life... I'm tired of the Hugh Grants, as rascally as they are.

* Oh shit, the machines are working again, I thought for sure it was The Big One. YIKES -- I hate earthquake scares!

* I walked three or four long blocks to the theater and wondered how it got to be so foreign to walk... in NY I wouldn't have blinked an eyeball at a four-avenue walk, but here... one can feel so vulnerable. NO ONE ELSE IS ON THE STREET. Just you and a bunch of speeding cars, any of which can just pick you off... ugh, I'm getting morose.

* I've been really impressed with my friend Rick's moving forward with auditions and singing... it reminds me of who he was in high school and it's been a long trek back to it. It just made me think of MY high school thing... to be at least be bilingual. I haven't managed it yet.

* I'm walking (and sweating, can you believe? It was 70+ degrees out but I didn't know all day and I left with a sweatshirt and coat on)... and ask God for a sign that I'm supposed to -- DO SOMETHING.

* I get to Barnes and Noble for a drink and I pass two late 20-something fellas at a table and one says, "Well, do you want to pan?" and I turn around and smile. He smiles back -- only in LA are people storyboarding films in a Starbucks. (Hm... Wrong sign, though, that one means "Do Nothing.") He continues: "No, zoom IN means the camera is getting closer to you, zoom OUT is pulling away." Uh-oh. He's the DP (Director of Photography) with a novice director. Bad sign. Reminds me of some terrible directing days.

* In line in front of me is a VERY EUROPEAN couple, 30, maybe, straight out of central casting. How is it Europeans look so... European? They look sexy even in casual clothes. When I went to France I kept thinking, "I wonder if they'll think I'm from the Philippines" but apparently I walk like a Yank. I couldn't even practice a TINY bit of French because everyone always opened their mouths to me with "Hello!" Hot damn.

I get closer and they're speaking an Eastern European language... but it's not Russian (I know that one ;) so after the guy ordered I open my mouth: "Excuse me, what language are you speaking?"

"Bulgarian."

"Ah, Bulgarian," I say, smiling like an idiot. "Blagodaria!" (It means "thank you." Big linguist here.)

"Oh, you know it! How do you know it?" he asks. The girl rushes up and says, "It's not a very common language."

"I know! I learned that from a friend. (I lied. I learned it from a cute waiter.) That's all I know though."

We were all smiles, told each other to have a nice evening then I went to the movie and pretended to want to be in London. But I got my sign: I know how to make friends and get along... it's never been a problem for me before, so why would I worry about that in some other country? Granted, I'd never LIVED or WORKED in another foreign land but lots of people do it, so why can't I?



I just have to... oh, here's a bit of problem... figure out how I'm going to support myself. I can't even do it here in English, much less in Europe... oh hell, I can always come back to the previously noted cheap apartment in LA if it stinks -- or read a hell of a lotta hands! LOL But as long as I have a laptop (okay, I still have to buy one) and can stay connected that way... how hard could it be? And who knows what adventures it'll bring. Maybe the REAL me lives in Breton... or better yet, maybe "HE" lives there too.

So: Finish school, learn French with all the Senators and Princes at the Institut de Français in the south of France and go on that adventure. What have I got to lose?

Ciao baby!