Category Archives: First Person

LA vs. NYC, by a 2.5-Years-in-the-Past Me

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My friend just showed me this post he wrote on my facebook wall almost two and a half years ago. He was staying at The Viceroy in Santa Monica for a TV shoot. I’m fairly positive he was drunk off  $28 Client Dime Martinis when he declared his desire to jump coasts. And I probably wrote him back while sitting at my desk in Manhattan – overworked and underpaid.

In my response, I guess I’m trying to convince him that NYC is better than LA? But man, do I do a terrible job. Dreadful. I practically convince him to eventually move to LA. Which he did. Last week.

Reading my response today, two and a half years later, I think I just convinced myself to move to LA. And I’m writing this while laying in my bed in my apartment in Costa Rica, so at this point I literally have no idea what the fuck is going on. But I wanna go to LA YESTERDAY.

My response:

Jed! Don’t give into its powers. You aren’t thinking clearly – just look around you – your room has plates on the wall and someone cleans it for you everyday. And its FREE!l AND SO ARE YOUR LAVISH MEALS! That’s not REALITY!

In reality, LA is traffic. It’s a DUI driving home from the bar. It’s being spread out all over the city, thus creating a lonely feeling when one realizes they may be 8 miles from their friends but they’re actually 2 hours away from seeing any of them. It’s never being thin enough. It’s wanting to work in the entertainment industry just like everyone else. It’s never getting in anywhere cool because you don’t have fake boobs (or the male equivalent. Fake penis I guess?). It’s everyone dressed the same – like, LITERALLY dressed the same. It’s SPY sunglasses, UGGS, and Ed Hardy hats. It’s less American Apparel and more bedazzled trucker hat.

It’s 70º year round. It’s cheaper rent. It’s the freedom to sing loudly during your commute. It’s a cart full of groceries wheeled out and put in your car. It’s a house, not an apartment. It’s screenwriting opportunities galore. Or at the very least, it’s competition that pushes you. It’s UCB LA. It’s running along the beach. It’s sneaking into the viceroy to take a shit in their lobby bathroom – and letting them give you that free bottle of water, thinking you’re a guest who just got back from a run. It’s Joni’s coffee on a saturday morning (go there it’s not far from you). It’s shoppppping. Cheap manicures and pedicures. Sunny streets. Flourishing lawns. It’s not NYC.

I know how you feel, and I hope now you understand why I was bummed when I got here. It was nothing personal, I promise you. You’re my saving grace here.

And for what it’s worth, after a while you start realizing the things that make NYC fantastic.

Keep having fun.  Hopefully we’ll talk on ichat today. But I wanna hear how it’s going when you have time.

Sara

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No Way. I say no way, is any of this real.

Think about it: we live in a reality where if you slice your skin, bright red liquid comes pouring out of your body. BUT. As long as you patch it up, the liquid miraculously stops and over time your skin grows itself back together and eventually, it’s as if your skin was never sliced to begin with.

We have always accepted this as reality but if you stop and really think about it, and I mean really think about it it sounds like something out of a low budget sci-fi film.

And it’s not just the skin thing, there’s more. Like, the DNA thing. You mean to tell me that we have some unique make up inside us that scientists can detect by putting a cotton swab in our mouths? Or by stealing a can of soda we threw in the trash… and rubbing a cotton swab on THAT? Or even by taking a little dribble of a man’s ejaculation… (which is a whole OTHER thing that seems too weird to be real – guys shoot stuff out of their penises? AND THAT’S  THE STUFF THAT MAKES ANOTHER HUMAN? No way. There’s just no way, that’s too ridiculous). So with a little of our spit, cops can read our DNA and tell us if we murdered the person found dead in the barn last week. Yeah, that sounds logical.

I mean, COME ON, guys. We have to just be being naive, right?

Let me stop what you’re thinking right now: I am completely sober. There is just too much we blindly accept as reality.

If you feel no need to question that you’re reading this while you have a basic skeleton shape underneath your surface, then how can you question anything at all? Sure, your skeleton needs milk to stay strong, that’s not random or anything. But no worries, if any part of it does break all you have to do is hold that part of your skeleton in one place for a few weeks and it will just mend itself, no big deal.

How have any of us non scientists never asked to see proof of anything? So many things. Actually, everything. Literally everything.

I’m going to stop letting my brain tell my fingers where to type these letters. And instead I’m going to click “post” and then this stuff will go onto the internet – a magical place where things live only in zeros and ones yet our eyes get to see the final product: this fucking post.

I’m not making sense. Or maybe I am, it’s just that there’s a chip inside your brain blocking you from comprehension. Sounds asinine, I know. But if this is something you were told from the beginning of your life it would make total sense. THAT’S MY POINT. Who knows, maybe THEY put the chip inside your brain! Because if you were to understand this post, the whole world would turn upside down.) You know, the world? That ROUND thing we live on… Not that you’re going to question that or anything.)

Don’t Back Up Your Shit!

I was so proud of myself for backing up my computer before turning it in to my last job. I connected my hard drive, dragged, dropped, deleted, emptied, gave it a wet goodbye kiss and handed my good friend in…

Well it turns out, you can’t just drag and drop a hard drive. Or something. All I know is, that shit is gone.

GONE.

Commence heartbreak. The slow kind of break that hurts more. OWWWW. My work! My memories! My life… vanished. I didn’t even tell anyone about it for a while, and we all know when you keep quiet about something you did wrong, it was either super dumb or super evil. Man. At least being evil is fun… this just hurt.

But wait. Wait just a hot second here…

Most of my favorite pictures are on facebook. And, let’s be honest, when was I going to finish writing all those “comedy pieces” anyway? And versions 1 through 45,234,938 of every script I ever wrote at Johannes Leonardo doesn’t matter because that approved 45,234,939th version is safe on a PDF on some other computer in the office. Sure, I lost music I’d purchased, but Steve Jobs has gotta eat, right? I’ll rebuy the ones I cared about or revisit some old tunes on my old computer. (In fact, I’m listening to Coldplay as I type this. So what?)

MY CHALLENGE TO YOU:

Stop backing up your hard drive. Live dangerously. Scoff at those who scoff at your carelessness. Trust me, your best stuff you’ve shared via email, facebook, or linkedin (if you are a raging nerd). It’s not gone forever, it’s out in the world where it belongs.

And guys with backup hard drives full of porn… really? That crap runs free all over the internet (I’ve heard). Put on some silk boxers, light some candles, and find some new .mov tonight, it’ll be fun!

Texas on My Mind

First and foremost, I’d like to apologize that this is the 3rd post in a row that involves geography, but I can’t rearrange these things so you’re just going to have to manually read these in a different order if it bothers you so much.

Country music.

I have not been able to put enough country music in my ears since I got back from Texas. (It’s been 4 days.) I’m not saying I want to move back to Austin, I’m just saying that the town, and my friends there, kick some serious ass.

It’s no secret that we from Texas have more pride for our state than any other losers from anywhere else. We are obsessed with ourselves. We love our chips and we love our salsa. We love our lakes and we love our beers. We love our road trips, our sunsets, and of course our pickup trucks. But there’s nothing we love more than our country music.

BECAUSE COUNTRY MUSIC IS MAGIC. Once a song is loved, it is forever loved. Unlike any other genre, there’s no such thing as listening to a country song so much that one day while it’s on repeat you realize you loathe it. And it’s because that country song will always bring you right back to where you were when you first fell in love with it.

The only other things I know to have that reliable power to remind you where you were, are tragedies and terrorist attacks.

Country music is 100% more enjoyable than either of those things.

Having since lived in a thousand places that aren’t Texas, I don’t hear country music often. But when I do, dear God do I remember how much fucking fun it is. When I was in Austin over New Years, I finally got another taste of it. But as usual, my trip was way too short, rendering me unable to get my fix. (Just one more song!) So now here I am, back in New York City in my body, but in my mind I’m still where I want to be – with my friends in Austin.

If you’ve walked by my desk at any time since Monday, you’ve noticed my headphones in full effect. “Hmm, I wonder if she’s having a Kanye or a Kings of Leon day?,” you asked yourself. Well ma’am or sir, the answer is neither. Because guess what? I’ve been blasting the shit out of some good ‘ol country western music.

LIKE, NONSTOP.

So as far as my mind is concerned, I’m still in Austin, still with my lovely lovely friends, and still deciding if I should order another margarita or switch to Tecate.

Happy 2010, everyone.

CONSUME OR BE CONSUMED

There was a time I felt like a little bitty thing frolicking through life barefoot in the sun. But in New York I am a machine furiously moving between buildings, consuming everything in sight. And I’m not alone here – I look around and all the strangers are doing it too.

Must drink. Must eat. Must sweat. Must read. Must see. Must hear. Must hurry. Must everything.

That’s some Pacman shit.

chomp chomp

Where is the perfect city?

New York is too stressful.

LA is too fake.

Austin is too small.

Miami is too hot.

Seattle is too rainy.

Amsterdam is too far.

London is too expensive.

Boulder is too college-y.

San Francisco is too cold.

And so on, and so on, and so on…

…..

I want to live in the best city there is. So if you have any suggestions, by all means speak the truth to me.

If I could, I’d give Michael J. Fox the moon.

One of my all time favorite movies ever = The Back to the Future Trilogy.

It’s truly fantastic. I wish I wrote it. I wish I starred in it –  as Marty McFly (no thank you on the girlfriend role, i want more camera time). I wish I could watch it for the first time again. Thank god for YouTube – because with a few clicks I can always watch this music video and be reminded of what pure joy feels like inside.

Thank you for making these movies, who ever made these movies.