It seems as if the flu has taken up permanent residency at 7903 Airport Blvd. And with three revolving hosts (yes, that includes Dodger who has had his share of diarrhea and puking over the last few weeks), why would it leave? Julian and I can’t seem to catch a break; you name a part of the body, we have been assaulted. When I am well, he is sick; when I am sick, he is well. While this aids in caring for one another, it certainly is frustrating as hell. Especially when it gets in the way of sex and weed (smoking with a chest cold = no bueno). But that’s all a part of marriage; truly, in sickness and in health.
So here I am, taking my turn in the rotation, shivering under the blankets with puppy in lap, wondering if I even have the strength to eat my dinner let alone go into work tomorrow. I got Vic’s on my chest, some kind of generic cold medicine in my bloodstream, a box of Kleenex by my side, and a steam vaporizer on the coffee table; I feel like Betty, in desperate need of a machine – and a lot of drugs – to help me breathe.
I could just sit here and watch Small Time Crooks. Or take a nap. Or…well, anything else but work on my screenplay. But that’s exactly what must be done.
Earlier today, I watched the ceremony for Carol Burnett’s Mark Twain Prize for Humor. Time and again we hear from these outliers, these legends, to become famous/successful, yes, it takes connections, but it also takes a lot of chutzpah and determination above all else. Carol Burnett related the story of how she got her start by going backstage at The Pajama Game. There she was, standing in her dripping raincoat, like some “low-rent Eve Harrington” and convinced the doorman to let her stay backstage and watch because she “knew” one of the bit players; in truth, someone she knew knew him and all she had to go on was “I’m from California too.” The doorman was sympathetic, as was the bit player, who hooked her up with his agent. He said the same thing every agent says: “Look me up when you are in something.” So did Carol wait to be in something? Nope. She and the other girls living in the Rehearsal Club, a New York boarding house for actresses, decided to put on a show Mickey and Judy style. The agent came, Carol was a smash, and she was on her way.
There are many days when we won’t feel like showing up. For marriage, for work, for our dreams. But Woody Allen says 80% of life is just that: showing up. And thankfully my support team – i.e. my husband – is so driven that he even took his computer to Vegas in order not to break his #30Blogsin30Days. He serves as a constant inspiration to power through at all costs.
The longer I live in Los Angeles the more I know this to be true: in order to achieve your dreams, you must be willing to work exceptionally hard. And make your own art. No one is waiting around to give you a chance. And no one can tell your stories like you can.
So here I am. Carving out 45 minutes to work on my future. I’m showing up for my dreams. In sickness and in health.