F-bombs, incoming...

What would happen if you just didn't give a fuck? If you said what you wanted to say, did what you wanted to do, kissed who you wanted to kiss? I'm betting life would feel a lot more like you were living it instead of whatever you're doing now. Whatever I'm doing now, is probably actually more the point.

I shouldn't be this fired up- I just got out of a 2-hr long free class for writers about studio vs. indie blah, blah. The information wasn't groundbreaking, and the outlook the Hollywood-Insider-Guy painted was dismal.

Meh. I'm not even fazed by grim Hollywood Chicken Little bullshit anymore. But I got to thinking on the way home of some of the break-into-the-biz options HIG mentioned and I wondered why I hadn't tried any of them. My best reason - and it sucks - is because my shyness is arresting and I'm scared of my own shadow. How's that for Chicken Little bullshit?

It's the worst excuse, and it's a topic that's been on my mind more than the usual all-the-time-constantly that I examine myself. The WHAT-IFS. What if I suck, what if they hate it, what if he hates me, what if they don't get it...

What if I don't give a fuck? What if I tell people what I really think? I have a reputation for being honest, and I am, unless I'm lying to your face. What if I tell you I'm not interested instead of taking an hour to explain the reasons why you and I aren't such a good idea right now? What if I RSVP "No" to Evites without a benign explanation why I can't make it? What if I tell you, you're wrong, when you are?

What if I don't give a fuck? What if I do what I want to do? People think I already do that. I pole dance, and I write about blood-tinged semen and sociopathic teenage girls. My secret is, that's the tip of the glacier. I can fill reams of paper with the things I want to do and be. What if I tried more? What if I wrote and directed the short that haunts me, even though I have no money, even though I don't know how? Who gives a fuck?

Who would give a fuck if I kissed whoever I wanted? "Who haven't you kissed?" snears Igor from behind a fold in my frontal lobe. I've had make-out dreams about a friend, and I could dismiss my dreams as sweaty manifestations of the day's particular stresses but... I'm curious. So what if...?

Having given my blog addresses to family members recently, I guess I'm putting my money where my mouth is - they don't get a lot of fuck this and fuck that from me. And I guess if I don't give a fuck, it really doesn't matter. (Sorry anyway, Mama and Daddy. Don't stop loving me! xo!)

But think about it: What if you didn't give a fuck? What would you do? What would you say? Who would you kiss?

Six degrees of Cynassa

I got a quick job, so my blogging took a backseat for a while. Not that I wasn't dealing with the demons of having the same job I started production with ten years ago (same producer, same position: assistant/Office PA. It was humbling, to say the least.) or with the HELL that is Beverly Hills. Thank God, I'm unemployed again and back to my damned friends. Like CYNASSA.

Fabulous doesn't do him justice. His nature is described as quicksilver. I love that adjective! Cynassa is shining and malleable like Kevin Bacon. He manifests himself medium-tall and the color of a shining star. Whuut?! He incites love and lust in mortals, and increases a human's sense of pleasure- again, much like bacon. (Umm, I wanna meet this "demon"...) Bonus: Cynassa has the power to provide luxurious gifts like spendy perfume and fabrics. He is a minister of the demon Sarabocres and connected to the planet Venus. Three angels, Hanahel, Raquyel, and Salguyel, have power over him.

Why did I choose Cynassa? How could I not? After a week of feeling less than quicksilver doing PA runs in traffic all over the city, I needed a little awesome to feel like myself again. Don't get me wrong- this job saved my life and I love my bosses. But it gave me a new appreciation for how hard the entertainment business is on people. Not because I was doing an entry level job with entry level bagel responsibilities that I thought was long behind me, but because I was doing it with the gift of perspective.

Eighteen months away from a production office is a sizable chunk of time. It's enough time to realize entertainment is what it is. We're telling stories and trying to make people happy. And if you take yourself or the business too seriously, you won't succeed at either for very long. So you enjoy the little things like the word "quicksilver", getting taken to lunch by your boss, and Kevin Bacon.

*Thanks to "Dictionary of Demons: Names of the Damned" by Michelle Belanger. Llewellyn Publications, 2010