Down By The Water

I guess part of the goal of our new blog was to showcase the awesomeness of various parts of the United States. I think all members of the Coastal Brothers and Sisters clan have serious desires to see (and possibly take over) the world but the truth is we're doing a pretty good job of valiantly exploring various areas in our own homeland. Side note: I plan on attending the Norwegian Festival on Sunday. Something tells me that I won't stick out as much as I did during the Cherry Blossom Festival in Japantown. Plus, I might get to meet the curling team from Norway. Totally worth the $12 entry fee.

But I digress. Now that it is light outside for a few hours after work, I've been taking advantage of the incredible location of my apartment to hit the trails with Pax after work. A typical trail is one in the Presidio called Mountain Lake. I usually pick it up about a mile from my house and run/walk/rulk until I get to Inspiration Point. These pictures aren't mine (thank you Google Images) but I thought you deserved to see what I get to see anytime I choose. This first one is the one from Inspiration Point. That's Alcatraz over in the Bay. Pax loves this spot too. He jumps over that concrete wall and then expects me to come save him and lift him back over. He is so demanding. He is also getting a little old - but more on that in future posts.

I hope that I don't get in trouble for including these pictures. You all know that I do not have the patience to learn the nuances of a camera. I am looking toward putting a canvas back in my apartment so that I can start painting again. Right. That one will come along the same time as my book of short stories. How cool is this image though? How crazy is it that I get to view spaces as cool as this whenever I want? I mean, technically I have to wait until the fog clears, which is pretty rare, but still. Unbelievable. Every Day this is available to me. I live a blessed life.

happy Easter everybody

not too much to say today,

little p is sick.  bummer.

he did enjoy his Easter basket though,

bubbles, sidewalk chalk, a bucket & some tools.

heaven. 

Easter basket from blugee & grand dad

doesn't he look so cute in his outfit?

this is how much he loved getting dressed

poor little p

don't worry everyone, he wins in the end.

He is Risen, Alleluia.









It's Raining Men (Every Specimen?) Part Two

I thought I had outgrown the old (and unnecessary) "Leave room for Jesus" warning from various school dance chaperone's and my Dad. Dad taught me the most perfect way to thwart unwanted closeness regardless of respective strength. Try this with me now. Bend your arm so that it it 90 degrees to your hip. Place your elbow directly on your hip bone. Hold steady. Now have a buddy try to push closer while in typical school dance posture. Brilliant right?

Never did I think I would need this move as a 20-something while out dancing and hanging with my friends. Here we go.

THE TOUCHER - "don't give me no lines and keep your hands to yourself"
Even before I moved to San Francisco I had heard that the Mission neighborhood was an awesome place to head out for dinner, but that I probably wouldn't feel "cool enough" to actually live there. After all, even though I own a pair of skinny jeans and have long been a fan of Chuck Taylor's, I very rarely wear them together. I have my sister LDL and her "toothpicks in a bucket" comment to thank for that. But when I got a tweet/text from an old friend from college telling me that she and her bridal/bachelorette party had finished with their tour of Napa and had moved on to 16th street, I put on some shoes, grabbed my Clipper card and headed out the door. Truthfully, I would have gone anywhere for a chance to catch up with JMH.

JMH and her posse of hilariously fun women were hanging out at a small establishment called Double Dutch. It's one of those places where the long and narrow entrance lends itself perfectly to the crowded bar and then dance floor layout (not unlike Roberts' in Nashville). After jamming out for a while the whole group was in need of refreshments. Since I was getting a bit claustropobic on the dance floor, I ventured out to the bar. While trying to purchase a few tasty adult beverages a member of the JMH posse (and a new pal of mine) saunters over and challenges me to see if I can get someone else to pay. This is not my game. I am terrible at this game. I would MUCH rather fork over my hard earned cash than have to pretend to be interested. But I accidentally made eye contact, my new friend was fired up and thus began the slippery slope.

With our ice cold drinks (paid for by me) and followed by two new, eager young men, we head back to the dance floor. Man in the red shirt had a signature move. It's called "let me see if I can grope you without you hitting me". Since this is a family oriented blog, I'll leave it at that. But it was awful and he did it to everyone. At once point, I was sandwiched between him and his collection of eager friends, saved only by my ability to slip through small spaces like I was coated with vaseline. Also, I have a pretty mean right hook. JMH and the posse thought it was pretty hysterical. I'm sure the distraught and exasperated look on my face was awesome. But alas, the night was ending, the bouncer was escorting us out and our new red shirted friend was sticking a little too close for comfort.

And then, JMH reared back, turned to old red shirt and said "YOU need to watch your hands". He recoiled, confused and embarrassed and then reached for my waist to hug me close. +see beginning paragraph for my next move+ Caught off guard by my swift reflexes he tried again, this time from behind me and told JMH "it's what you girls want. It's why you dance." And then FIRE shot out of her eyesockets and she said. . . .

Well, actually, that's Bill Cosby's line. But you get the point. Girlfriends Unite: 1 Red Shirt Posse: negative one billion.

two weeks

for those of you who tune in for pictures of sweet p...

forgive me for the lack of update. 

we have been busy over here,

 but i am not sure what we have to show for it. 

clean clothes, food, a couple new friends, new favorite things...

like watermelon.

we have put together a couple more pieces of furniture...

we watched the masters...

stopped by a local coffee shop after our doctor appointment...

learned that sprout #2 is a GIRL!

and so we danced a little bit..

stay tuned for more excitement later! 

i mean, i'm not holding out on any stories from you -

i might think of them later.











It's Raining Men (Hallelujah?) Part One

First things first: Nothing has changed in my personal life and I definitely am not trying to go all Elizabeth Taylor out here on the West Coast. I've never really been a fan of giant jewelry. That being said, I realized while sharing a few of my most recent stories with LDL that they all involve some kind of bizarro conversation with a strange man. I've done my best to categorize them.

THE GAMBLER - "know when to walk away; know when to run"

Recently I was invited to an event by a member of senior management for my company. It was hosted by the Asian American Society of Architects and Engineers. The event included dinner (Chinese) and a speaker who happened to be the project manager for an upcoming $4.6 billion sewer reconstruction project. The goal was to present a good image about our company. I'm the token "diverse engineer" (as a white female - duh). Anyway, during the meet and greet mingling session everyone jostled for a place between the presenter's table in the front of the room and the bar. Being the crazy observant person that I am (it's not normal to locate an exit immediately?), I spot an unfortunate looking character. He is definitely passed middle age, shorter than 5'8", wearing an old school Texas-style string neck tie, transition glasses midway through transitioning and a hat that is best described as a cross between a cowboy hat and one used by fishermen. Flaps tied up obviously. I've sketched a picture: please remember I am an artist by desire only.

So this man "Walter" saddles up next to my manager, a co-worker and myself and begins selling his trade. Ignoring me. Turns out he is a "private consultant" looking to be paid by the hour for engineering work. It was clear he did not think I was important enough to impress and bypassed me when handing out his business card. As he was leaving, he scooted up behind me and whispered in my right ear. Immediately I am two things: Perturbed and Losing. Because he is speaking into an ear that hasn't worked in 27 years it appears by my body language (turned toward him, neck arched, reading lips) that I am actually interested in what he is saying. What's really happening is that I am listening intently, desperate not to accidentally volunteer for something. What follows is a series of questions that I deem totally inappropriate and so I lie. I lie easily. It's scary how easy it was to make things up. It saved me this time but oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. Self-defense is excusable right?

Gambler: What's your name? How old are you? Where do you live? Do you have roommates? What are your favorite places to go? Can I look you up on your firm's website? I notice you aren't wearing a ring - good thing for guys like me. Have you ever been to The Starlight Lounge? I'm there practically every night. I'd love to take you to dinner there. No? Huh. Okay, well if you change your mind or just want to stop by it is located - location conveniently forgotten. Enjoy your evening. Here is my card in case you want to get in touch. Extra long gaze into my eyes and purposeful finger graze. I threw up in my mouth a bit.

It's funny how when he was looking for work he didn't have enough business cards to hand one to me but when he is looking for company at the Starlight Lounge he has plenty. Gross.

So that's it folks. Just another day in the life of a young(ish) engineer, desperate to break free of cubicle land.

Never fail. Just Get Rejected.

This industry of mine is certainly an interesting one. I can't think of another line of work where getting rejected can be deemed as a success. Technically, I guess that's not really true here either, but it is certainly looked more positively on than most businesses. Basically the whole process is based on rejections that hopefully eventually lead to success. Let me explain.

The most basic of rejections pretty much comes before a word is spoken. More often than not(there are a few exceptions) if you do not fit exactly the physical characteristics envisioned, you don't get a chance to even read for the part. Now, this particular brand of rejection isn't that bad, because you generally don't hear about it. But every now and again you'll hear how you are too tall, short, thin, fat or have the wrong hair color, eye color, skin color (or hue), blah blah blah.

Next there is the first real level of rejection. Auditioning and getting a, "Thanks" and that's it. Never a real good sign. Other versions of this are,"Ok, thanks" "Great, thanks" "thanks for coming" etc. Sometimes its tough to tell if the powers that be like you at all. Sometimes they make it obvious enough. BUT, getting those first few auditions are also a success because it's better than not getting sent on them at all. That level of "success" fades fairly quickly.

You then get to the callbacks. This rejection level is a special kind of suck, because it means you were actually liked enough to get brought back, meaning you actually have a shot. Again, there is an element of success because you got out of the first round. This level of "success" sticks around, well, I don't really know because I haven't moved past thinking of it as a success yet, so maybe it never does fade.

Probably the most painful rejection notice is being on first refusal, then released. You were selected. You're the guy. You're in. Until you're not. Brutal.

Now, why am I torturing you with my Dante-esque levels of rejection? Well, I've experienced a good number of levels within the past few weeks.

In my last post, or thereabouts, I told you readers about my journey to Atlanta to be rejected. However, I later found out that the casting director called(or emailed or otherwise notified) my agent to say how much she liked me and looks forward to having me back. So, success? Kinda. There isn't really anything to show for it, but the rejection was less terrible.

I also submitted two taped auditions for feature films. One here locally in Orlando, and the other in LA. Didn't hear a word back from either. At all. So I really have no idea how much I sucked, or if I did at all and wasn't the right body type, blah blah blah, or they didn't like my shirt, or a million other things you(I) let run through your(my) head.

Now, I did submit a taped audition to a webseries thing that films in Jacksonville, which I was asked to then drive up for a callback. And ended up booking a part. Probably for free, but the experience/exposure will be good, right? And it's a SAG contract, so that'll be helpful when the inevitable LA move comes. Oh, and I got to kiss a girl (blushing).

Also am shooting a UCF film this week. And have a rehearsal for a "feature film" shooting semi-locally next month. I used quotes there because, we're really only shooting a 10 min promo now, and (fingers crossed) the feature later. And the dates have already been pushed back once. So we shall see.

This may have been a slightly long, rambling post, and for that I apologize. Maybe you'll be interested in why generally try and temper any sort of emotions about my journey, and sometimes(most times) am bad at answering any sort of questions.

Oh, and I went on an audition for a Sonny's BBQ commercial, and got a callback only to not hear back(which means no).

I try not to feel like a 16(or 30) year-old girl sitting by the phone waiting for the cute guy from English class(or the Lodge) to call.

Success to you all.

Or less sucky rejection.