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Los Angeles, California
I am 47 and thriving in Southern California. One day at a time.
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Saturday, January 30, 2010

requiem for a dream


well, i am nothing if not dramatic.

unlike change which slowly creeps up on you. mundane. benign.

then, suddenly. insidious.

note the funky aunt who periodically comes to visit; remarking upon how much her nephews have grown; much to the parents' bewilderment. auntie's filter sharpens their ignorant, soft focus. dries out their mirage.

[hey. auntie. snap shut that compact, why don't you?]

a glance into this mirror can be startling. "where did those crow's feet come from?" "is it already october?". "who is retiring?". and beware those who stare too long. besotted by your frenetic life of mundane details and useless responsibilities. addicted to the jarring lullaby of multitasking. this ain't no navel gazing. stare longtime and it's cold turkey, dude.

["slap"]

narcissus was a cautionary tale, after all.

whereas he looked too long and was punished for falling in love with himself, when i look too long, i fall out of love.

[am i being punished?]

quick glances are all i dare.

i placed a notary seal upon my career the other day.

when i interviewed for disability, i told the social worker my last day of work had been november 1st, 2008. my final audition was an 18 page guest starring role on "cold case". i was good. i didn't get the part. but i was good. so when the tears cascaded down my steriod-swollen cheeks and ms. perez kindly passed me a tissue, i was surprised. surprised by the amount of emotion attached to something i left behind a year prior.

but i hadn't left it behind.

perhaps this is why i haven't started therapy. or found a support group. yet. a canadian transplant (ha!) in SoCal, i have taken up residence in the territory of denial; the land of limbo.

civil war rages throughout.

alice through the looking glass, indeed. an alternate universe lies on the other side, and the truth is, when i stare too long into the shimmering glass, i am blinded.

or is it that i just don't want to see?

so last week, i took a studied, painful look and quietly emailed my 3 agents in both los angeles and toronto. although, i had been laying low, it was my official withdrawal from the biz and a giant step out of limbo-stan.

it still feels impossible to embrace the endless restrictions thrust upon my life. {would you want to make out with a cactus?}. the ties that bind. that restrict. choke.

"give yourself permission to be ok with just doing dishes one day..."

grrrrr.

yet today, someone else held up a mirror, showing me what they see.

my toronto agent of 17 years sent words of comfort, kindness and unyielding belief in my talent. something i can no longer see.

i entitled this "requiem for a dream" because that dream is over. for now. i hope. and i am working to embrace my new dream. does it PISS. ME. OFF. that the majority of people i know are already living my dream of health and barely give it a thought?

one guess.

but, i am tired of being angry. and i am tired of being tired. the former, i can change. the latter i cannot.

and requiems are beautiful. haunting. invoking. and perhaps, inspiring. for the death of one thing often leads to the birth of something else.

so i need to get my ass out of withering-ville. pronto.

just need to bring up my mapquest.

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