Differences

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I will be moving in with my boyfriend next week. This will be my first time living with someone who isn’t family or a roommate. I’m very excited but also a bit nervous. I love change but it’s not the easiest thing for me to do.

As we make preparations for our new abode, I’ve noticed that moving in with someone really magnifies the differences between you both. Fortunately, my boyfriend and I agree on the big things, the deal breaker stuff, you know things like “you don’t smoke crack, right?” and “alone time is important!” But we are most certainly different and this whole moving-in process has had an interesting way of illuminating these differences…

I think moving in with someone can go one of two ways. Yes, I’m basing this on what I’ve seen from others who have moved in with each other and I’m generalizing, but I think it all boils down to two roads: either you allow your differences to conquer your relationship and you two become opposing sides rather than a partnership OR you allow your differences to compliment each other and provide each of you opportunities to demonstrate love, patience, understanding and compromise.

I believe in washing towels after every other use, my boyfriend does not.
He likes the sheets tucked in when making the bed, I leave them hanging out.
My boyfriend likes the sink counter to be dry while I don’t notice it either way and therefore, often leave it wet.
I need a fan on while I sleep, even in the cold. He hates it.
I like to snack. He likes full meals.

We are different. Compromise is needed.

I love to vacuum and sweep, he’s great at dusting.
He cooks healthy protein-based meals, I cook Sicilian-style.
I buy the first thing I see, he researches and asks questions.
He’d rather not deal with it, I face it head-on.
I’m obsessive about organizing, he’s obsessive about detail.

We are different. Sometimes it works to our advantage.

But allow me to get to the point. This whole moving-in-with-my-boyfriend process has been quite enlightening for me. I’m glad I waited to live with someone until I thought it was really right, especially because I don’t think I would have lasted longer than a month. Differences often have a negative connotation with them. And personally, I’ve been from the camp of liking things the way I like things. Sure, I thought I had great reasons for such but now, only after I found someone who was able to reach inside me in ways no one else ever has, I’ve come to realize differences aren’t so bad and in fact, are often great.

Perhaps it’s a good barometer for a relationship – the more the relationship is right for you, the more the differences are right for you too?

Acupuncture

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A month ago, I was at the Abbott Kinney Street fair with my boyfriend. We had come upon a booth for an acupuncture school. He had tried it before and as for myself, having read some Chinese philosophy, I had been intrigued in the past about this type of medicine but had yet to experience it. This school was offering free assessments and herb acupressure on the ears, which by the way, say a lot about you. As does your tongue. So we both decided to give it a try.

My boyfriend’s assessment went very quick. Extremely quick, actually. He was finished before my intern even got through asking me preliminary questions as she felt my ear lobes. After some time later, I had learned I had a slow pulse and needed more protein in my diet, big time. My intern acupuncturist had me captivated with information about our mind, our blood and our health. She knew and learned so much about me by simply touching my earlobes and looking at my tongue. I could have sat there for hours but I saw my boyfriend’s patience in the bright sun wearing a little thin so I tried to wrap things up. Before I left though, she gave me her card and an offer to try acupuncture for free at her school’s clinic.

I met back up with my boyfriend, who I had to find by calling his cell since he drifted away, which I don’t blame him, and together we talked about what happened to the other during all the earlobe touching. I then learned why things took so long for me. I need to be healthier. His intern told him, and I quote, “Your ears are very healthy. You are a very healthy person.” Needless to say, my intern did not tell me that.

Fast forward to last week when I brought the coupons my boyfriend and I received at the booth to his house and made an appointment for acupuncture for both of us. We were fortunate to get the same time and day and while he saw a randomly assigned intern, I requested the girl I had met at the fair.

And now for today. After quickly jogging her memory about who I was, the intern acupuncturist remembered meeting me and told me she was glad I came in to give this a try. She did a much more thorough analysis of my health this time. Her questions were those many doctors don’t ask, which I found intriguing because of my sudden awareness of how important they really are. Questions such as, “How’s your libido?” “Do you eat a lot of protein? “How thirsty are you throughout the day?” “Do your fingernails show good blood circulation? Let’s see… They do!” (You can press down on your nail beds and once you release the pressure, if they return to regular color quickly, your blood has good circulation.)

After a great and LONG conversation, the intern checked my vitals (all good!) and then had me put on a gown. I laid down on my chest, with my arms on my side, and she did a procedure called CUPPING. It was fascinating to experience. In certain places, after heating a cup with flame and moving it over my back with the help of oil, she would leave it there and it would create a suction of sorts. Once it was removed, it felt great. I have two red circles on my back right now, which she said will happen if I have toxin-stuff to be removed. So, yeah, I have toxin stuff. This was then followed by four acupuncture needles being placed in various parts of my body. It was a jolt when a couple of them went in but the other two I barely felt. An energy aromatherapy of sorts was used during some of this process as well.

Before I left, I was feeling better just thinking about the information I learned today and how I wanted to implement it into my daily life. I told my intern so and knowing I’m on a budget, she advised me to spend my time and resources on herbs and vitamins right now, to help clean my system and get my pulse and blood moving along better. She also advised some herb treatment that could help with my OCD, which makes me ecstatic because not one doctor I’ve seen for OCD has offered a natural medical solution to this problem. I thanked this intern several times as she slipped me her card and email address, advising me to see her whenever I wanted to discuss my process or do some more cupping or acupuncture.

I learned more in this hour-and-a-half long visit than I have in years at other doctor’s office visits. And I’ve never had a doctor’s office visit that lasted this long!

With the healthcare situation being what it is in the US right now, with primarily government, pharmaceutical companies and health care insurance firms deciding what’s best for us, I can’t think of any better time than now to begin to learn about alternative medicine.

But I have to walk the talk.

From now on, I’ll be writing one blog post a month detailing my experiences with Chinese medicine, alternative medicine and my adventures in the world of yoga, which is something I’ve added to my life recently but have yet to get serious about. It’s time now though. I want to do it.

“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”
– Lao Tzu

Going the distance.

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I want something badly. Very very badly.

I want to be able to make my films.

I should disclose that I’ve been fortunate enough to have made five short films, most of which received at least some attention at festivals and screenings, but I have yet to make my first feature. It’s written though. And while it’s had the same title for the past ten years, the drafts it’s gone through… oh my! Tens upon tens. But now, it’s finally where I want it to be, or very close HAH, as my writing partner and I fine tune the last act.

And speaking of a writing partner, for the first time since I began my filmmaking career many years ago, I have chosen to write with someone. Never thought I could, or should I say would, but it’s working out and has elevated my feature script to a place I wanted to take it but didn’t on my own. It’s hard to admit that but it’s the truth and I have grown to absolutely love the writing partnership I’ve formed with a friend of mine I’ve known for over ten years. What one of us lacks, the other makes up for and together, we work as a team. We are brutally honest with each other. It’s wonderful. And in addition to this feature, we’ve written a short film that we are dying to make but alas, the funds have not revealed themselves yet. We’ve tried though. For over a year now, we’ve been submitting our short script to every grant app and short film contest we come across that can help us. We got a nice nod from Slamdance as a quarter-finalist in their 2013 Screenplay Competition but other than that, nada.

I refuse to sell my soul. I will not be a filmmaker-for-hire. I come with my project and vice versa. Case closed. I have no interest in making something I don’t whole-heartedly believe in. I work day jobs and make ends meet, so fortunately, I can continue with my plan. That said, I need money to actually make my films. It’s a tough one. I try hard not to shoot union because of all the extra crap that comes along with it but I firmly believe in paying my crew well and being allowed to shoot where I’m shooting. WHERE ARE YOU MONEY?? HOW DO I GET TO YOU??

Right now, my writing partner and I are waiting to hear if a short script we wrote as part of a contest is going to get made. We made it to this point but now, the top five will be selected out of the fifty of us who are waiting to hear…

This part sucks. I feel like I’m always waiting to hear if my film is going to be picked over other ones, whether it be our script or finished product. The waiting is the worst but I suppose if the job was easy, everyone would be doing it and there would be way too many films.

Speaking of which, why are all the movies these days either tent-pole comic book action movies or “small films” that stare Robert DeNiro and Ryan Gosling? Can’t some of us smaller storytellers get a share of the audience without spending a zillion dollars on casting and marketing? What if the only available books were paperback romance novels and comics? Wouldn’t readers demand more choices? Why are moviegoers accepting this or are they not but rather turning to television where the real genius is being used in terms of storytelling (though TV series and films are very different entities.)

Sigh.

Anyway, we should find out by Wednesday. It will either be a day for celebration or yet another “no, thank you” email to add to our overflowing file box.

One day that box is going to grow dust from lack of use. I just hope it’s sooner than later…

Party of One

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I was driving to a work thing today when I was struck with the idea of going on a date with myself. My boyfriend is out-of-town, and I was thinking of going out with him, but then realized I couldn’t, so thought about going alone and then decided I should make a blog post out of it since my goal is to write at least two posts a month…

Hence, my tale about my party of one.

It started off rough. I almost flaked on myself. After my work meeting, a friend/co-worker asked if I wanted to get some food. My initial thought was yes! But then, I DID make a date just an hour prior so… I mumbled an excuse and proceeded to my car.

I had already looked up showtimes for a movie and had found a Groupon for a Mediterranean restaurant a block from the theater on third street in Santa Monica that I was going to. I considered it fate and bought it, which so happened to be available for one, two or four people. Here’s a little fact by the way – there are very few Groupons good for one person. Either they are more than enough for two to spend or they specifically state that TWO PEOPLE must use it. Geez. Can’t the solo diners get some love too?

Anyway. I drove to the third street mall, which was barely recognizable from the time I worked around the block from it twelve or so years ago. I dug the vibe of silver and modernism of it all, not to mention the three-hour parking that only cost me $2.50.

Hummus Bar Express was yummy! I chose a spot near the front of the communal tables and wouldn’t you know, within minutes, a single lady diner was to my left and to my right. We didn’t say one word to each other, but I think silently we bonded in respect for one another. We solo diners. I got chicken, rice and salad. One of my favorite meals. I only ate half and decided to pack up the rest even though I was going to a movie.

And I’m glad I did because after purchasing a ticket (well, really using a gift certificate I’ve had in my wallet since last Christmas), I entered the theater to discover I was the only one in it. I took center middle seat and propped my feet up. I used to always sit a bit to one side but my boyfriend, being in the sound business, has really convinced me to always go for center, middle if possible. But I digress. It was two minutes til showtime. By the time the trailers rolled, three other solo movie goers joined me in this lonely theater and together, we watched a mediocre film. I really wanted to like THE FAMILY. I mean, it’s directed and co-written by Luc Besson who made one of my favorite films THE PROFESSIONAL. It’s executive produced by Martin Scorsese and Robert De Niro and Michelle Piefer star in it. It had the elements. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a story. Or anything really resembling one. Sigh.

I stayed to the end though and was even able to eat the rest of my food. Considering all four of us movie goers were seated far enough away from each other to pretend we had the place to ourselves, I took full advantage of it. In that sense, the experience was very comfortable. And the soundtrack was great.

Without waiting for the entire credits, I left the theater and walked out to the half-filled promenade. Passing a guitarist and singers, I breathed in the tepid fall air of this dry October Los Angeles night and thought about what a relaxing evening it was.

I thought to myself, “We should do this more often.”

Top Nine Reasons “Breaking Bad” is the best show EVER

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As if you need them. But in case you do, here are my top nine reasons for why I think “Breaking Bad” is the best television show ever.*

Top Nine Reasons “Breaking Bad” is the best show EVER:

1. WALTER WHITE had you the moment you saw him, out in the desert, in his whitey-tighties, reeling from the news of his cancer and his new found “hobby” of cooking meth. How many characters can do that to you?

2. Sunday nights have become nights of staying home and actually watching this show AS IT AIRS. That says a WHOLE LOT in today’s day and age.

3. The writing is not only smart and constantly surprising, but it RESPECTS YOU, the audience.

4. They are ending on the highest note a show can end on – the viewing audience is on the EDGE OF THEIR SEATS. What other show can really say they ended with this type of interest?

5. It was passed up by most, if not all, major networks. AMC, cheers to your cojones!

6. The helmer, Vince Gilligan, is funny AND smart.

7. There is no CONVENTIONAL formula to the series.

8. The audience DROVE the marketing campaign. Word of Mouth, best PR out there, but also the only kind that can’t really be bought…

9. Bryan Cranston.

*to qualify myself for this task, I would like to note that between the ages of 11-17, I must have sat in the live studio audience for more than thirty television show tapings. It was the easiest way for me at the time to get anywhere near a set… True, I don’t watch all that much TV anymore, but I’ve seen every single episode of THE SOPRANOS, and while that does comes CLOSE to this, no cigar…

Communication

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There are times I like to be silent. Not talk. Not listen to others talking. Just be with me and my thoughts.

Sometimes though, these moments don’t exactly match with what my boyfriend has in mind. I love him, but he does like to talk and I love getting excited when he gets excited and I love reveling in his good news or comforting him with bad and I really love hearing how passionate he is about music and his business.

But…

There are times I like to be silent. Not talk. Not listen to others talking. Just be with me and my thoughts.

At first, my conscience spoke to me and sternly said, “Christina. You love him and you should listen to him even when you don’t feel like it.” So, I did. Two things started happening, though. I either zoned out and let my mind drift or I forced myself to listen and felt phony about it as I made impatient faces to myself (and perhaps the car occupants nearby…)

Not particularly enjoying either of those, I decided my next option was to change the subject and then slyly get off the phone/walk out of the room. This didn’t work either. All that ended up occurring was me interrupting him. And that’s just rude.

And then came tonight.

As I drove home after working a double, I called my boyfriend to say hi but my mind was exhausted and I was realllllly wanting some alone time. After several minutes of talking and a story started that didn’t appear to be too short, I decided I was just going to be honest with him. I simply said, “Baby, my mind is tired and I can’t really listen right now and I don’t want to zone out but I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”

There was a brief pause but then he said, “Sure, baby. No problem. I understand. Call me later.”

We hung up and I began to think about this…

Then, I decompressed. Got home, took a hot shower, did a facial scrub, wrote a blog post. And now, I feel a whole lot better.

Off to call my boyfriend!

“First learn the meaning of what you say, and then speak.”
Epictetus

Two Hikers

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If you can call us that.

This past weekend, my boyfriend and I went on a hike in the Malibu Hills. The one to the Grotto, at the Circle X Ranch. We were celebrating my birthday and headed out with the best intentions and two bags worth of a picnic. I held one bag, my boyfriend the other. He also graciously held our large water bottle too.

On the hike we went. It was a well-worn path and I think we both eased into the idea that this was going to be a simple, relaxing hike. He mentioned he thought a website said this was a beginner’s trail. We soon spotted a sign that read “Grotto Trail 1.3 miles” and an arrow pointing in the direction of it. Hmm.. so we weren’t exactly on the trail yet. Okay. No worries. We continued on. Passed a side road where at the end of it was one of those old phone-booths. The kind Superman used when he was changing from Clark Kent.

Soon, we came to a divide and proceeded toward the Grotto trail. The path grew smaller and headed into dense mountainside. It was pretty, though. As we continued on, deeper into the mountains, we passed a friendly group, who explained with somewhat vague directions, “when you come to the rocks, make a right at the smooth, flat one and then shimmy down between the boulders but you can use the tree branches to hold yourself…” Huh?? One member of the group was a rather large, elderly lady and so, I’ll admit that both my boyfriend and myself thought, which we later said out loud to each other, “Well, if she can do, I’ll have no problem.”

Onward we went. The path got more narrow, the sun blazed on our heads, the white shorts I so expertly planned to wear had gathered a thin layer of dirt on them and my boyfriend took pictures. Then, time started moving a little slower and sometime later, I found myself wanting to cry out, “Are we there yet?!” But we passed more people, got even vaguer directions (“At the big rock, stay right..”) and kept on.

And then we came to the rocks. Hallelujah! Or so I thought. All the directions we gathered along the way meant little to us though we did shimmy between rocks and stuck right at a large, smooth one. I, in fact, even swung from some branches and my still aching arms can prove it. And with some help by a young, cute couple, we finally made it to the grotto.

It was beautiful.

photo

But it was also full of bugs.

We tried to find somewhere to picnic, but it wasn’t happening. So we decided to have just a little snack before heading back up. My boyfriend took out the cheese and bread and made a yummy spread. This was, however, soon interrupted. Suddenly, he grabbed his plate very quickly and moved practically right on top of me. We were on a little ledge so there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room. I asked him what happened, and he said he saw a squirrel. I thought, “Geez, babe, it’s just a squirrel.” And then I said that out loud. He was standing really still. Than, he grabbed the bag and said, “Okay, it’s a rat. Let’s go!” We quickly grabbed our stuff and got the hell out of there, but not before a clueless group of friends asked me to take their picture.

With little more than a couple bites inside us, we decided it was time to head back up. The bugs were everywhere and the bags were getting heavy. As we walked, we started forming a list of things not to do when going on a hike of this nature – wear white, bring a picnic and not eat first. Neither myself or my boyfriend have ever really done a strenuous hike, if you couldn’t already tell that.

So, we climbed up, and up, and up, and up. The sun was about a trillion degrees, as was our water by this point, and shade was no where in sight. We both ate our words about how easy this was going to be, considering that lady could do it. (Love when stereotypes are defied!) And things such as “Babe, I need you to give my butt a big push when I say go” and “Let’s swing from that branch and land on that rock over there” came out of my mouth as I tried desperately to keep going. I should probably say for those who don’t know me well, I do not work out. I’m not a camping, outdoorsy type. When I’m outside, I like to lounge and relax. Not saying I’m proud of this, but it’s the truth and will help to explain why at this point in the hike, I kinda believed, I might actually die out here.

My boyfriend and I thought the end of the trail was coming about fifteen times too early. I couldn’t talk anymore. My only goal was to get back to my air-conditioned car at this point. My boyfriend painted the picture for me, of how nice it will be in just a few more moments. Few more moments, my ass. What seemed like a lifetime later, we finally made it to the car. My boyfriend went to the bathroom while I, using every last ounce of energy I had, pressed the door-open button on my remote, climbed into the passenger seat, and rested my head.

Failure?

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I failed.

My intentions were the very best; I did not want this to happen. At all.

But. Then. In all seriousness, what does that really mean? I still didn’t do as I had intended and stated I would. So, yes, in essence (and in actual truth no matter how you look at it) I failed.

Whewww…. That’s hard for me to say. And write. But it’s true.

Now, for those of you who read my blog regularly, this is about my June (and eventually July) “Happiness and Love” blog project in which I was to spread happiness and love through a planned list of things for the whole month of June.

This isn’t the first time I would do such a project but man, it was the first I wouldn’t finish. And that’s not easy for me to swallow about myself.

In my defense, I got busy. Things started coming up. Business. Personal. Emotional. Philosophical.

My world was spinning and I was juggling and well… my blog wasn’t as high on my priority list as I would have liked it to be. I placed it a little lower than it has been in the past and spent my time on some other things. I admit it. But I failed you, my readers. And… I failed myself.

My June/July project didn’t come to fruition. And I am the reason for it.

Priorities. It’s tough sometimes to decide what needs to be handled and in what order. But since there are only so many hours in the day, things need to fall on the B-List. Whether it’s goals, chores, deadlines or even friendships, we all need to make choices as to what we will spend our time on and in what order. And let me tell you, while going after a career such as that of being a filmmaker, time is of essence and VERY precious. Not an excuse, but a reason why some are forced to sacrifice things they wish they didn’t have too…

Anyway. Long story short. I failed at my blog. And I apologize to my readers. I hope the two weeks I did complete helped spread love and happiness and I will continue to try to do so in my daily life. But still, I said I was going to do something and didn’t. I’m sorry.

But if it’s any consolation, (probably just to me, I imagine, but nonetheless…) while I was not writing my blog, I was taking care of business and my last short film has found some distribution while my writing is getting very close to being realized on the big screen in a feature format with me at the helm of the ship, sooooo…… stay tuned.

And please, keep spreading love and happiness. Karma can be a wonderful thing :)

Other people

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Something has been on my mind lately. Perhaps you can relate, perhaps you can’t but I’ve found that other people sometimes get upset with me because I’m not who they want me to be. Whether it be a friend who wants me to be more available or a family member who would rather me agree with them even if I don’t.

One of my favorite existential philosophers, Jean-Paul Sartre, is famously quoted as saying “hell is other people.”

Sometimes I wonder, is it?

Now, I’ll admit that in my twenties I was so self-absorbed I couldn’t care less if I upset someone. I always thought it was their problem and they could go to hell but thankfully, I evolved beyond that stupid point of view as I got older (with much thanks to philosophy and my parents!) And now, I live the life I want but always strive to be as respectful and honest with others as possible. I figure that as long as I am those two things, how much more can others ask of me?

Well, you’d be surprised. I’ve had friends get upset because I have to work. A lot. And therefore am not available to hang out very often. I’ve had acquaintances “de-friend” me from Facebook because they couldn’t handle me thinking differently than themselves. I’ve had bosses actually not appreciate my hard work and rather, treat me like I have a problem for simply wanting things done right. I’ve even, swear to God, have had people get down-right angry with me because I lack in pop culture knowledge and have no idea what they’re talking about. No shit.

I’m not perfect. And I’m not trying to pretend I am but damn, sometimes I feel like just yelling out, “Why can’t I just be me?!” Being a filmmaker who supports herself with two other jobs, time is greatly limited for me. I sometimes don’t turn a tv on for months and yes, I prefer things to be done efficiently because why they hell would one not? And recently, I’ve met the man I want to be with and also have became an aunt to two beautiful nephews so not only am I very selective in how I spend my time, I don’t have much to spare.

That said, I truly believe great beauty lies in the connection between human beings and the relationships we have with one another. Quality has always trumped quantity in my book. So I must ask, when another starts to demand something of you or get upset for what you lack that they wish you didn’t, what grounds are they doing so on? What’s so wrong with being different if you don’t impose it upon another and force them to be that way? Why do we not celebrate our differences rather than get angry about them (unless of course force is used and then, that’s a whole other ballgame…)?

Well… I don’t have all the answers but after much deliberation and observation, I’ve come to a conclusion.

The happier you are with yourself, the more you back off at being angry with others…

You might be Sicilian if…

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As I was driving in the car with my nephew, he told me he wanted some of Grandma’s pasta but with no sauce. I said, “No sauce?! What kind of an Italian are you?” to which he replied, “I’m Italian?” I said, “Oh yes, you’re fifty percent. Sicilian actually.”

This short little conversation got me thinking about being Sicilian and yes, as those who know me well know, I do draw a distinction between Sicily and the mainland of Italy. So in good fun, here is a list I made up…

YOU MIGHT BE A SICILIAN IF…

1. You repeatedly get asked if your family is in the mob.

2. You like your pasta spicy and you refer to it as “sauce” – never “gravy”.

3. You draw a distinction between Sicily and Italy.

4. You wonder if any of your ancestors were actually in the mob.

5. Talking and yelling are synonymous.

6. Sunday dinner is at 3 in the afternoon.

7. Suo famiglia e tutto.

8. It would be painful to talk without the use of your hands.

9. You relate to The Godfather films on a personal level.

10. When you are asked if you’re Italian, you say, “I’m Sicilian.”

11. You had to shave in the first grade.