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YEAR ONE: Week One – Home Again Home Again Skiddlee-Doo

Yes, the photo is slightly out of focus… I didn’t have my glasses on, or contacts in, and I had just woken up… so deal with it. The intention was to share with you a view of the newly complete (and now clean) living room located in our new West Hollywood abode. My first observation has been taking the dog on a walk around the neighborhood and Pan Pacific Park.  I’m getting an unintentional farmer’s tan.  Apparently I haven’t seen the sun in four years… with an exception of that shoot I did in Oakland and forgot what sunscreen was.  The weather is warm, everyone LOVES my dog.  I’m guessing that people in L.A. are so used to seeing purse animals that they forgot what the hell a real dog looks like.  Plus, he is a handsome bastard.  In the evening the air cools to a sweet comfort and people open their windows, spilling waves of music and dialogue from movies; sharing their entertainment with the voyeurs that pass by whilst picking up massive mounds of dog poop.  Apparently changing the dog’s food was a terrible, terrible idea.  The other night I heard one of my neighbors playing a familiar album, and felt pretty good about the new situation.  I could be mistaken, though yesterday I’m pretty sure Adrian Greenier (Vinnie Chase) was hanging out at a back patio bbq at the neighbor’s place.  And there are a lot of people wearing 3/4 skinny jeans and tank tops.  I guess the French sailor nancy-boy look is popular this season. We’ve spent the last week pulling the house together, digging out of a mountain of cardboard and a bunch of crap that we probably shouldn’t have packed away and brought with us in the first place.  Although purging and throwing away the unnecessary items of hoarding can be a wonderful moment of freedom, there are still connections of sentiment that prevent those last few items from finding their own way into the garbage.  So, they go back into boxes and into the dark depths garage and eagerly await the next purge… or being completely ruined by torrential L.A. rains (that apparently only happen once every four years).  The biggest difficulty has been merging and separating offices. Christine got the good desk, and the good room… and I was forced to travel to the domestic death chamber, TARGET for cheap ass furniture. So my desk is okay… teetering and waiting to fall apart.  Merging the old home office pieces with the old work-office pieces has been mind numbing.  And what the hell is with USB hubs not being able to power more than 4 objects when they have their own power source?  Seriously.  Just work the way you’re supposed to work.  I’m not ready to start troubleshooting day in day out for a living… again.  I just need a couple of days to enjoy seeing the floor and knowing where my keys are… and not having to break down or open boxes… and eating more than 1 and 1/2 meals per day…  moving is impossible.  It’s the end of the first week.  The job search (which consists mostly of calling, emailing, and begging my friends for assistance and connections) will begin on Monday.  The issue at hand will be focusing on what to do or bill myself out as.  I guess that the easiest approach would be shooting… but I might have to join a union… or editing but I might have to join a union… and there’s no way I’m going to get an opportunity to Direct for a while now.  I could work in the production office/trailer, but I kind of suck at paperwork and I’ve never really had the opportunity to work with AICP (which is the industry standard).  For 4 years, I’ve been doing something similar to the industry standard… but not the industry standard. So, I sort of know how to do the paperwork without actually knowing how to do the paperwork.  This acting thing is looking better every day.  After all of this stress and bottling up, I’m pretty sure I can cry on cue.  Or I’ll just pull a nose hair.

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