Strike A Pose

Story time! Gather round blogsters...

Most of the entries in this blog so far have been about moments within the three years of me moving here. Not something that happened this past week or the day before. However, that's exactly what today's entry will be about. It all started last week.

I'm currently freelance and waiting for my next gig to begin. I'm a little short on money so every now and then I glance over craigslist to see if there's any fun ways to make money that's not a long term commitment. Last week I stumbled across an ad for a model. Now I'm not a model in any sense of the word. Let's face it, I'm 5'3 with shoes on so I'm not going to be walking down a runway any time soon. But in the spirit of trying out fun stuff I applied. It wasn't for anything glamorous. In fact it's probably the opposite, it was a modeling gig for invisalign. For those that don't know invisalign is a retainer type item that straightens out your teeth. I had braces when I was in middle school but one of my teeth on the bottom is slightly crooked and it bothers me a little. So I pressed send on my application not thinking much of it. Until my phone rang twenty minutes later... It was a woman asking if I could come in for an "audition". I said yes right away and hung up.

Yesterday, was the big day! I drove all the way to Beverly Hills, drove in circles looking for parking and finally ended up at the cosmetic dentistry office. Now being in Beverly Hills alone makes me feel superficial but walking into a cosmetic dentistry office. I already knew this one was a point for the LA team. Signing up to be a model? In Beverly Hills? For cosmetic dentistry? That's a step away from plastic surgery. All these thoughts started flitting through my brain as I sat in the waiting room.

Finally a "dentist"? comes out and brings me inside. He determines that I would be great for the modeling gig but that I still have to pay for the treatment. He claims it was discounted about a $1000 but it was still way more than I could afford (which is basically nothing). I asked if I could think about it and quickly slinked out the door.

Walking back to my car I started to feel slightly stupid. This was supposed to be something fun but I really thought I would be able to at least get free treatment. Even worse, it was free treatment to make myself look better. Shouldn't I already feel great about myself? And I do. I guess that's why I walked away but I still think I might have done it if i had the money.

Right when I was determined that I leaning towards the california girl vibe a car drove by me. In the back seat was legend Betty White. I got so excited. I had episodes of Mary Tyler Moore on tape when I was little not to mention the Golden Girls and countless other classics. It's hard to rile me up about a celebrity but I was genuinely giddy about this one. And that made me realize this blog should continue. I still haven't figured out if I've become that full blown Los Angeles girl. Betty made me realize my east coast roots are still in there somewhere but this entry's point goes to the west coast. Making the score...

East Coast Fan: 2

West Coast Model: 3

Walk This Way

When I first got to Los Angeles I had come straight from living in Boston for college. Boston is probably the largest walking city in the United States and I had just landed in the probably the largest driving city in the United States. In Boston, I would literally walk at least 15 minutes to school every day and that was to the closest building. There were days when I would have to walk half an hour there and back just to get to class. And before that I grew up in a small suburb where walking and bike riding make perfect sense. So moving here was quite a shock.

At my second job here they would send me on coffee runs. Typical LA type errand for a assistant level. The closest coffee shop was in the mall that was only .6 miles from our office. I decided that I would just walk there and back. It would take about the same time it would have taken me to drive there, park, walk into the mall, find my car and drive back. Everyone would be amazed that I would walk and that their coffee could still be hot.

"Wait, you walked there and back?"

"Yup."

"With our coffee?"

"Yup."

I was the weirdo but I didn't mind. I was proud of myself and I liked getting out of the office and out of my car. I walked everywhere I could during that job. Not just coffee runs but anywhere I was sent. Cigarette run, lunch run, cupcake run... they all were in walking distance so why wouldn't I just walk there? Then one day everything changed.

I was walking from my office to go pick up some lunch for myself and my boss. I was crossing the street in a cross walk when a car that was turning right decided that I must a figment of their imagination since nobody walks in LA. They proceeded to turn INTO me. Luckily, I wasn't hurt. I had one little bruise on my leg where the car made contact but that driver did do some damage to me that day. He made me hate walking in this city.

Today I will walk if I have to. However, I find myself looking for parking as close as possible. I hate to walk anywhere alone. And when my boyfriend suggests we walk to the grocery store that's only .5 miles from our house I cringe and say no thanks. Even though that's .1 mile closer than it was to get that coffee. That driver may have not done any permanent physical damage but he did drive me towards becoming an LA girl. One point goes to the westside and the tally is:

WALK OF SHAME: 2

DRIVING MISS DAISY: 2

Guess Who's Back... Back Again.

Blog buddies!

I'm back. I know you all were crying yourselves to sleep and praying for the day of my return. Fret no more my fingers are ready for some blogging. I know it's been way too long but I made a promise to myself that I'll start writing again a couple times a week. So stayed tuned and let's jump right in.

Today seemed like an appropriate day to start blogging again seeing as it's ST PATTY'S DAY! I'm a quarter Irish and having a mother whose half Irish meant St. Patrick's day was always celebrated in our house. Although, it seemed like everyone else around me celebrated too. It wasn't an Irish only celebration. In school green stickers and cupcakes filled the classrooms. This feeling only grew when I went to college in the mother of all St. Patrick's day celebration towns, Boston. Except instead of cupcakes... it was beer.

Since moving to LA it just seems like a holiday that's lost on most people. Today I was met with several sad responses to my Happy St. Patrick's Day.

"It's St. Patrick's Day?"

and

"Oh. Thanks."

One of my first bosses here even once said "but I'm Jewish". (Please note: I'm half Jewish so this comment completely boggled my mind). It's just not as big of a thing out here. On the east coast it's a celebration of friends, family and fun. I'm sure that the several Irish pubs out here will be packed to the brim tonight. However, I'm also sure if you took a poll of where those people are from... it'll be a landslide for the east coast. I understand that many find it as a holiday for just the Catholic Church and Irish community but that's not how I view it.

I want to have some fun and drink a green beer or maybe even better a guiness tonight! Maybe I'm just stereotypical but this gives me hope that I still have some east coast girl in me. So this first entry back from hiatus the point goes to Southie and I don't mean Texas.

Southie: 2

Bev Hills: 1

Dance Like No One's Glaring

Alright, I teased you in the last entry about why I don't take dance classes in Los Angeles. I know you've been waiting with bated breath for the follow up entry. Well wait no more - here it is!

When I first moved to Los Angeles I had about $200 in my checking account and no job lined up. I also didn't have a car yet. I basically was stuck in a room with nothing to do. I wanted more than anything to start taking a dance class but it just wasn't logical. By the time I finally got a job and my life started to come together I didn't have the time to take a dance class. My first PA job I was working six days a week and 10-12 hour days. The idea of moving, let alone dancing on my day off made me want to cry.

It wasn't until about a year into living here that I started to look for somewhere to take a regular class. My dance studio back home is like a second family so finding a place that felt the same wasn't going to be an easy task. I literally searched for weeks before I found somewhere that seemed like it might be right. I won't say the name but they had a hip hop class that seemed like a good fit. It wasn't too advanced (since I had never taken the style of hip hop before), seemed to be taught by a legitimate dancer, and looked liked it'd be a fun community of people. Best of all it wasn't way too far or expensive.

The first time I went there I was pretty intimidated right from the start. There was a very advanced ballet class before mine and there was a lot of awesome dancers in it. Not to mention, a woman that had to be somewhere between the ages of 75-85 dancing right along side the other girls. By the time my class started I kind of wanted to run out the door. However, once I got into it I instantly was excited to be dancing again but it wasn't fun. The girls in my class weren't friendly at all. Most of them were much younger than me and were not just there for a good workout and to make some new friends. They'd give you dirty looks if you weren't getting a move exactly right and made me feel inferior. I know I'm a good dancer but I definitely was rusty. Their looks and comments weren't very forgiving. The teacher wasn't much better. I went there several more times after that and each time it was nice to be dancing again while getting a good work out but it just didn't feel right. I wasn't there to become one of Beyonce's back up dancers.

My next stop was trying out the gym dance classes. LA Fitness must be much better right? Guess again. Somehow it was even worse. People were literally shoving to get in front of me to see themselves in the mirror. Plus, there's no size limit on the class so it was double the diva dancers throwing themselves in my face, figuratively and literally. Thrusting high kicks before class and the glares of people were just as bad as the last place. I quickly switched over to the pilates class but wasn't getting that creative outlet that I needed...

It wasn't until this past February until I've finally found my place. Cirque School LA. I'm taking their tricks trapeze class and am absolutely in love. It's an amazing workout and it's 100% fun. The environment is my favorite part. There's people in my class that have been taking trapeze for years but they're not rude or boastful in any way. The instructors are helpful and never call you out on anything. It's exactly what I needed to find here and I couldn't be happier. Although, my blistered hands disagree with me.

The moral of the story is this is a point for the other side. If I was all LA I'd be high kicking my way to the front. Instead, I'm just hanging upside down enjoying the view.

In the spirit of the NBA playoffs:

Celtics Girl: 1

Lakers Girl: 1

PS I will ALWAYS be a celtics girl. I think that technically should make it 2 to 1 but I'll let it stay for now.

Girl I Think Your Butt Gettin' Big

One thing that has for sure changed since I moved out here is worrying about my weight. My first job here as a PA I vividly remember inhaling Rice Krispie treats off the craft services table any chance I got (mostly to stay awake). One of my fellow female co-workers would watch me in awe and ask me why I wasn't worrying about gaining weight. The answer back then was that I never had to before...

I've been a dancer since I was three years old. While you would think that would make me obsess about my weight and become anorexic it did the exact opposite. I was probably exercising about 14 hours a week, if not more, and never had to think twice about what I was eating. I received my dance minor at Emerson and taught at a dance camp in the summers so it wasn't like I ever gained the Freshman 15 like most people do. No my weight awakening happened 5 years later than most people's.

It didn't happen right when I stepped off that plane at LAX. And I didn't balloon up to 200 pounds either but one day I realized I was at least ten pounds over the weight I had been since I was probably 14. That was the day I finally started to worry about what I ate. Sitting at a desk all day and munching on the free (not healthy) snacks in the office doesn't make for a very active body and I live in the land of skinny bitches. On this very day I'm on a "food plan" that a nutritionist made up. I'm only currently about 3 pounds over that "goal" or what used to be "regular" weight but I see it all over my body. I have two award shows, a wedding and beach season to worry about (wow don't I sound annoying) and therefore I'm eating fruit and vegetables at any chance I can. I also take a weekly trapeze class (cause the dance classes out here are brutal but another entry, another day) to exercise and belong to a gym.

This in itself wouldn't make me too jaded. The food plan is actually really healthy for you and probably just makes me feel better in general. I also don't do it all the time just when I feel myself creeping up towards the 10+ pound level again. Yet, I find myself judging other people, especially when I'm on "the plan". Earlier today I saw a woman holding a bag of cookies and eating one. I can't even begin to write what went through my head when I saw her. It was awful. I've definitely eaten a bag of cookies in my life and it's Friday - live it up! Right? Eat a fucking cookie or maybe even two. Nope, in that moment I judged her for well I won't write it.

But because of that the score currently reads...

LA Judging Lady: 1

Delightful East Coast Doll: 0

Los Angeles aka Elle Eh

At the start of July I'll be celebrating my three year anniversary of living in LA. Although, I'm not sure I'll be celebrating per say. I'll more be in shock that it's actually been three years since I graduated college and decided to make my way in the entertainment industry. I'll also be in shock that I'm no where near where I thought I'd be in my career when I was 25.

The idea for this blog started the other day when a new intern started at work and I saw on her resume that she went to Emerson College (my alma mater). I let her know that I went there too and then she asked me what year I graduated. I said, "2007" not thinking it was all that long ago. However, she promptly responded with, "Oh well that's when I graduated from high school..." and I instantly felt like I was 87 years old.

Yet, that realization lead me to question if I've changed since I moved to Los Angeles three years ago. Of course everyone evolves as they move through life. I remember senior year of college when my roommate at the time (Hi Leyla!) told me how different I was from the preppy girl she had met Freshman year. But what has happened since I moved here? Have I become jaded and one of those girls that I hated/made fun of when I visited LA in February of 07? This blog is to chronicle all those moments when I feel like I'm a utter and total valley girl and when I feel the complete opposite and long for my east coast roots.

If nothing else maybe someone will read this and want to make it into a TV show. Wait, does that sentence make me jaded?