Settling In

She dreams of sunshine and movie screens

Or Something Like That

It’s really quiet tonight in Burbank. The only sounds come from Interstate 5 – nestled comfortably behind my brand-new apartment – often offering a shake from the floor to remind us that the flow of traffic never truly stops in the City of Angels. There are always people coming and people going in this city. 

I love the new place. I am sandwiched between Warner Bros and Walt Disney Studios. Josie from long ago is in awe – just a stone’s throw from all the action. She reminds me of the time I worked as an extra on the set of Gilmore Girls. The set which is now just around the corner and behind a couple of fences. 

Literally.

There life goes again - showing how the seemingly insignificant is seamlessly connected if one never gives up.

Back at my regular movie theatre these days, I rolled my eyes at Steven Spielberg's new trailer. “Of course he would direct the story of his own life” I whispered to my friend in the dark. She whispered back, “Well what is it you do with your blog?”

Mouth agape I sputtered out - “Tell MY story."

Pissed off, embarrassed, agitated, questioning.

If I were to read my own blog – would I even like me? Probably not. I write about me. A lot. Certainly a lot more than I TALK about me.

“Write what you know?” Right? That’s what every writing course I’ve ever taken has suggested. Write what you know and write it well. So that’s what I’ve been doing. What I’ve been trying to be doing. Something to keep the blues away. The pangs of “I never even tried” away.

I wonder when that will go away. When will enough truly be enough. I would love to wake up tomorrow and think, “Enough. You can be at peace now. Enough.”

I read somewhere that you can’t live in an epiphany and as much as I try, as many signs as I put on my walls, written in lipstick on my bathroom mirror, Life is never enough. I seem to always want more. More time in the day, more food in the fridge, more action to distract myself with.

In moving back to LA I have found a solitude that rests within my belly like a brick. Begging me to sit still, for just one moment. I try and honor that call but instead I phone my sister. I've been walking Nelly every hour on the hour. Think I've been to Lowe's fifteen times since I've been home. This feeling of emptiness, of not-enough-ness is familiar - could this be grief?

Please forgive me if I send a few more of these emails than normal or if I call y’all more often. I am not yet ready to wake and face the days with the knowledge that the last six months have come and gone.

Thanks to all for staying with me this long - and if you want to enjoy some not so quiet solitude, please come to the new apartment. Bring your laundry – I’ve got a washer and a dryer!