Postcards from the Ledge

Run, run as fast as you can..........

2011-12-02T08:47:00.000-08:00

It is early morning, a little after 8am. Both the children and the man have left. Peace...... Until the gardener arrives blasting outside his blower and echoing through my house. It seems whatever room I go into, they are right outside encroaching upon my this space. As I run from them.

I realize how these sounds are mirroring the madness of my mind and my thoughts of the past 2 days. Relentless. Horribly critical. Condemning. As I run from room to room, I start to laugh between my tears of utter frustration. I am trapped here. I am trapped in my mind. It is the perfect illustration of what is happening inside.

It seems Rachel and Vicky are here and they WILL be heard. I am bruised and beaten.

God, when I can see the mirror of it all. It does not make it change or hurt less....but I did laugh. And I got outside of myself for a moment and it looked like a cartoon. Me running around, crazy chichi's barking viciously, the old Lab Leon as well, the sound getting louder and louder and louder.........

The craziness of following the wild trips the mind endlessly takes me on. Without doing anything deeply creative and therapeutic it all gets locked inside of me and turns in on itself. The gift of many years of acting was exploring all my shit. And there is a lot to explore. Discover. Uncover. Recover. This process does not stop until one takes their last breath.

I want to unfold. For where I am filed, there I am a lie. Rilke

The world is so big and yet it is so small. I judge myself deeply to the core. I don't need your assistance. Thank you. This is a shallow dive back into expressing through the word. Without a plan or destination in mind. Just a sharing. Love and Light

"I just want to be a woman...." I said quietly......

2011-06-28T16:07:00.000-07:00

This statement I uttered to myself a few years ago after making love with my man when he went to the bathroom....I just want to be a woman...... It has forever stuck with me as to what did I really mean by it. As I get older and my life allows me to become more and more of that woman, the knowledge deepens inside. It takes root and is beginning to grow a beautiful tree based more on truth than any I have ever lived in my life.

I never as a young person had any desire whatsoever to be in the public eye as many have. In fact, too much attention on me was paralyzing. I had modest aspirations...a hair dresser, a stewardess as they were called then, or the token "marine biologist" that all kids think they what to be at one time or another.

I remember being in a play as a very young girl, maybe 7 or 8 yrs old. It, to date, remains the only play I have ever been in. Charlotte's Web. No, I did not go up for the lead as my best friend did. I had no desire to actually BE in the play although I adored the book. I think I was assigned a mandatory role and that frightened me beyond belief.

I still remember it like it was yesterday. I was a cat who purred one little line. Only a few words which I cannot remember now. My favorite part was putting the costume together and having my face painted with whiskers. I loved to dress up, what girl doesn't. This is still a fall back costume when I am lazy on Halloween. Clip on two ears, paint a nose and whiskers, throw on a leopard jacket and voila....a cat costume. Either that or curlers with pajamas to which my Myles yells...that's what you always wear!!!!

I remember the awkwardness of my tail being stapled to the behind of my leotard. The auditorium, the seats, all the people. That familiar feeling to this day of "performing" where my heart is beating out of my chest. As it gets closer and closer to the moment when all I had to do was utter a short line starting with a ppuurrrring sound.

Well, I got through it, crouched on all fours as a cat with my back intentionally to the audience and half hidden under a table. The same table that show cased my dear friend in all her Charlotte glory. Ppppuuurrrr..... Thank God, I got the line out....

But I was told that I spoke so quietly that nobody even heard my line. Sad but true. Yet, not surprising to the deepest part of me. Show business was not in my blood, it was my destiny for a time but not something I chose. I am often fond of saying, it chose me.

What did it mean to utter and feel the lightness of just wanting to be a woman after a beautiful connection with my man. I still digest this and shall continue to. But now ....I feel it showed how for so many years of my life I have been a man in a woman's body. This is a problem I feel most women have living in this society.

A stay at home mother is almost a dirty statement. Like the scene in one of my fav films Terms of Endearment. Debra Winger is visiting her friend in L.A. (aka city of LOST ANGELS) and when she tells a group of woman she does not work and stays with her children they look at her as if she is sick. It is brilliant. The entire film is.

Women are not allowed to be just women anymore. In terms that are now seen as old fashioned. And it is to those who have the desire to be just a woman, I speak. The expectations are so high, so cruel, so not as it was intended to be. What about where the woman creates a nest and stays and cares for her babies while her hunter husband collects the food. Caveman, yes. But essential truths, that too.

I also understand that this is not appealing to many women. Some want the career and all. That is fine too. The many faces of truth. But here I only share mine. And my experience of having had a full time career and now being basically a stay at home mother. What a rude awakening it has all been.

How much judgement I too used to have for those who stayed at home. Not realizing how much work there is to do. How much more selfless an act it is. How perfectly beautiful to see each and every "first" of your baby. To know them so intimately. My baby has not left my or his fathers side for the entire 3.8yrs of his life. Even in the hospital, he was never without one or both of us at his side. I take great pride in that. It has been MY pleasure and the gift that my man has given me and our baby. It is admirable and immeasurable in its magnitude as far as I am concerned.

I used to bask in the phrase "single mother". I filled that role as best as I could. While juggling a consuming and self-indulgent career. At the expense of my sweet first born Myles Maximillian having a real mother. He had a mother-father-career person in me. I regret that for him and often tell him. And am thankful that for the past 4 years I have been a permanent fixture in his ascend into adulthood. At times, to his dismay....hehehe....but not really.

All that really drew me into acting beyond the vain ideas of a 19yr old was what my dear teacher, mentor and friend Roy London said:

Like you know that awful childhood you had, this is a place to look at it, share and heal. And that I need to have a more important reason to be there than to "get the jobs. That this work was to ahve the courage exploring things about yourself WHILE you are being filmed, not once you think you have it figured out. To seek, stumble, fall, be lost and found in the next moment...right there on film. And that if
i did not lie.....the camera would not either........

He said so many things but that will be an entire blog or chapter in my book. The man changed my life and still occupies much space in my heart...and photos on the walls of my home though he passed almost 17 yrs ago.

These words and more all struck chords deep & powerful in my soul. He made it appealing in an incredibly challenging way. Not just about being painted and trying to be sexy, as most young ingenues are pushed to do. But to go deep and illuminate your own humanness and your own unique struggle and that would then touch others truths in themselves. God willing. So grateful that such a powerful mission could be placed into my hands. Just some goofy girl from Michigan.

There is also the fact that most of us actors have a deep need to be loved. Well really...who doesn't... But that combined with an arrested development. We usually come from great dysfunction and abuse of one or many forms. Not to feel sorry for us.....it most likely is in 90 o/o of people's life experience. It is only to illustrate how that can add fuel to the "get famous" fire. A fire that no amount of fame can put out.

But for me.... in the process.... I lost a lot of myself. Or maybe, its not that I lost myself, it's that it did not allow me discover myself in an organic way as all of these "stories" were put onto me to tell. My choice.....no pity party....I am grateful and thankful for my opportunities and memories but this is a look back at it all with different eyes.

I can share that even now I have moments of losing it after having been a "working woman" for SO many years, feel lost, listen to the dogma..... But those moments are far outweighed by deep joy in the seeming mundane. Yesterday seeing my baby boy truly learning to swim for the first time. Hearing his words increase daily. Having given so much time, effort and fight to get his autistic needs met through the state.

Therapy with Christian James 5 days a week, reading book after book to get his needs met. Fighting sometimes with the Daddy as I am left to give the quick version and he feels like I am correcting him. And I am but only because I have the luxury of being in all the sessions and reading the books that his hunter, provider man allows us, his family, the family I always dreamed of.

So in those moments when I feel like I should be providing more financially, I remind myself that there are more ways than monetarily to give to a family. And I do so in abundance. Getting back more than anything my career gave me. Real love, a permanence, the joy of knowing I had a direct hand in their life's and the people they are becoming. Things that I cannot even put words to.....best put....my cup runneth over.

And just being a woman...well, it seems I am one now. One that does not try to me a man too. As my man fills that role to completion. I never dreamt of acting, I dreamt of a stable family and children to love and raise. A man to love, be my best friend and grow old with. This attention is all I have ever really wanted and needed.

So although it does continue to grow and evolve and has its inherent ups and downs.... I am now....just...a...woman.......

To tweet or not to tweet......

2011-05-30T09:44:00.000-07:00

It is strange to see others being or to be directly attacked online. Any kind of attack is horrible enough. But online is a special kind of ugly as the person hides behind fake names. Some people seem to have nothing better to do with their evenings after work or on their weekends than to wage these blind wars on people they either do not know at all, maybe thought they knew many, many moons ago or think they know because I had a life in the public eye for almost 30 years.

I have never presented myself here to be anything other than the flawed human being I am. Doing the best I can. And sometimes failing miserably, as we as people do.... It seems so strange...... if one hates me and thinks me such a vile human being that they still come to this space, MY space to see what I have to say. I personally stay away from things and people that revolt me. Like I rarely watch the news because it seems all lies designed to keep us all in fear. And do not promote relationships when people do not respect me or my loved or have boundary issues.

It is hard to imagine that anyone would have these feelings.... as I like the rest of the world have low self-esteem. So, no, no one cares that much about me or what I do or write...or could be obsessed???!!! Why??? Isn't life complicated and difficult enough without engaging in this shit. Swimming in this kind of verbal vomit??? It is for me anyway. And hating requires a lot of energy.

On top of that, it is so destructive to one's own life and the people around them that they generate this kind of verbal warfare. I was always someone in my life who called things as I saw them. Even if I was wrong. I made a point of sharing MY truth. This is something that I still do. But I as I am older now I realize that it is just that, MY truth. Not THE truth. For as I am fond of sharing.....Truth has many faces.

And where for me it IS important and essential to share it still. It is equally if not more important to use kindness in my delivery. And to note when my perspective is not asked for or required at all. It comes for me from not feeling seen or being heard as a child. So as I grew into my 20's.... I would be heard. Yet aging teaches us, thank God and this is where I am with it now. But it is a constant work in progress.

I had left behind twitter for a bit of time because I was tired of the verbal assaults and endless harassment I received there. A place where I simply hoped to promote my book. And encountered for the most part some incredibly kind birds.... All and all, this experience has actually been a blessing. I have learned so much. I have had many surprising people and forces come to my aid as this kind of behavior is literally illegal. Not only on a karmic level, as everything you do comes back to you......... But did you know that EVERYTHING one does online is recorded??!!! Even if you erase it, there is a record of it. Any amount of erasing means nothing.....

IN this instance, I don't mind Big Brother...hahaha

My book will be out in the world. And I will not need twitter to promote it. It will be as honest and clear as I have always been here. My power and my voice will not be diminished through lies and venomous attacks of any kind. Many guardian angels are firmly in place, defending me. An interesting fact is that I find myself praying for people who commit these acts. Everyday. It must be hard to live with that ugly stuff inside. I, too, have dealt with great rage inside of myself at times. But I worked hard to get to its source not misdirect and project it onto others.

To keep my side of the street clean. This is what I work to do. And will continue.

So look inside when you read my shares.....decide from your own intuition what is real. This IS me, MY blog and the sharing of MY truth. So if you are at all interested THIS is the place to come. Thanks for all the support.

Love and Light....xxxoooxxxooo

"THIS ABOVE ALL: TO THINE OWN SELF BE TRUE, AND IT MUST FOLLOW, AS NIGHT THE DAY, THOU CANST NOT THEN BE FALSE TO ANY MAN."

HAMLET

It's a new day......

2011-05-14T07:49:00.000-07:00

I cannot teach someone to be more emotionally open and sharing. I cannot make someone come out of their self imposed prison. As children we are put into these cells. Each bar is painfully built through every day of our lives and the ignorance and abuse of our parents and society. It grows and grows until the jail is complete. An ugly gray box where light really enters...... A ugly, cold place that we have been condemned to.

The lightness of childhood lost, all at once, one is in their teenage yrs. At this age they seek to break out but have no tools to do so. They search for everything from the outside...... So they go deeper spiraling to their demise. They are more self involved, too self involved . With a strange certainty that they know everything and everyone else is wrong. Bombarded by hormones makes it worse. They still live in their cell but paint it with delusions and lies in a spectrum of colors. But it is still just the same jail. They have learned nothing of how to get out.

Years pass, layers upon layers of cover are formed. You are dying to see light again. The true connected light that you saw and felt as a child while the cell was still in its beginning stages. You continue the search in all kinds of external places seeking to fill the wrong hole. Left feeling worse than when the journey began, finding nothing......

If one is lucky you start to break out. You look honestly at yourself and your life. You chip away at these bars beginning to have the courage to understand how they were built and by whom. Life assists you by kicking your ass when you stray too far from the truth. You work.... You become someone who as difficult as it is, someone upon who NOTHING is lost.

That means breaking out of the collective lies. Of your lies, of your family, of society as a whole. It is nothing less than a violent break out. You fight those bars, you wrestle them, you saw at them, and slowly one by one they come down. You need only remove a few to escape although you had to live through the torture of each single one being built. A few choice truths being brought to light, the core ones and you can be free.

Then you must share...... You must share your discoveries....... You must be open to your brothers and sisters of the planet. We all learn from one having the courage to actually share their truth. Not shamefully hide it away. That is living in the cell again after all. Hiding behind those masks. The days of all of that are done. Change of a magnitude unfathomable is happening now. Jump on board. You will be supported in a way you could never imagine. A multitude of ways......

But it takes intense commitment and courage. Many will be left behind on your journey. I have left many family members behind on mine. We will meet again someday in another place. But here they will not hold me back. I will and have moved out of my cell onto truer truths. I encourage you to do the same.

An unexamined life is not worth living. Break out of your cell.....

Love and Light....xxxooo

silly, negative and sad people.

2011-04-25T10:36:00.000-07:00

This is a filtered blog to protect sherilyn from the random ugliness that comes in. She does not read your vomitous comments, I do and she never sees them so don't waste your time.

Your ugly comments say all I would never want to know about you......go away lost soul.....

God bless.....

Signed,
one of her many guardian angels

p.s. sorry to those who are friends of this space but someone tried to attack her...again.

To blog or not to blog.....

2011-04-04T10:28:00.000-07:00

Beloved Readers,

I have gotten many inquiries as to why I have stopped writing. Out of thankfulness and respect to people that follow or just read my blog I am answering....

I am working on getting a book deal so that I can share these stories in a deeper and truer way. Much to the dismay of certain aunts in my family, there IS more to come. Here I have only scratched the surface.

So for now, I will not be blogging. That could change in 5 minutes. I give myself the right to change my mind at any point. But for now I am gonna work on a deeper revision of "Who cares if my aunt is Suzi Quatro" and submit it to publishing houses. Not that she will be the center of my story because truly....who cares???!!!! But because it is one that touches deepest my soul, up until now.

I have been doing a lot of seeking and growing in my day to day life. Now I am ready to begin this, the deepest journey of my life to date.

Please say a prayer for me and light a candle. It scares me to do this work and yet it beckons and demands I do it all at the same.

Thank you for following. Thank you for reading. Whenever I come to your mind, please affirm:
Sherilyn is in process with writing an incredible, deep and true book. It will be a bestseller.

That energy coming to me will help the most.

I do not have the fatal flaw of cowardice. It's time......

All my love,
sherri

Darkness Falls

2010-09-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

When I went to the Isle of Man to do this film I had no idea what was in front of me. It was myself, my Myles who was 4 at the time and our nanny Alyce. I had never heard of this exotic place and had wild imaginings as to what it would be like, most of which were realized after a very long flight when we arrived and found ourselves driving on an island with the deepest shades of green I had ever seen or smelled. Rocky pathways, nature dominating with miles and miles of beauty, quaint and vital all at once. Traveling gets one out of the sleeping bubble of one's limited, self-centered existence. To see such a place existed somewhere other than in my dreams was astonishing. It made me feel that dreams were real, that out here beyond Michigan and California were many worlds to explore.

A diverse mix of people and cultures came together to become the family of this production. People from England, Scotland, Ireland and America. Beautiful lyrical accents and pronunciations that took a bit of time to bend one's ear around. Yet, I felt so oddly at home with all these people. I belonged here somehow. I knew I had lived many lives with the people on this side of the world. Somehow, in my body sat a deep recognition that was quite new to me. It is always a surprise to travel to far away places and feel right at home. I have also at times experienced the opposite but those are others stories to be shared at another time.

During the production our little trio lived within a sweet, three bedroom house that sat on a golf course. My Myles wreaked utter havoc on this golf course, as for him it was a huge playground where he would find these little white treasure balls. He delighted in collecting them in his shirt and running back to our house with some angry golfers hot on his trail. He fancied them being dinosaur eggs as this was his utter obsession as a little one. He knew all the dinosaur's names, and if they were carnivores of herbivores. And proudly proclaimed (and does to this day) that HE is only a carnivore. It is still a fight to get the young man to eat a salad.

When I was offered this film I was told that a then somewhat unknown, but wonderful actor was doing one of the leading roles. His name was Ray Winstone. I was told to rent Gary Oldman's directorial debut called "Nil by Mouth," because he had the leading role in that as well. I have always loved Gary Oldman. He is simply brilliant, deep and poignant in whatever he touches. The film is a brutal documentryesque piece of an abusive household, it is said to be semi-autobiographical. It was heart wretchingly difficult to watch in many instances. And Ray was like a force of nature. For me it was one of those moments where I was excited and frightened all at once, and I knew I had to work with this man.

The script was interesting as well, a psychological drama that took place mostly in one house where my wealthy husband and I are held hostage by Ray, a man with a secret and a score to settle with my husband (played by Tim Dutton). As the wife, I am completely in the dark about it. I felt it would be a challenge but with good actors it could be really interesting. I knew nothing about the director Gerry Lively but my faith in Ray Winstone outshone any doubts. God knows I had worked with directors in the past who were not great but was still able to do something good in spite of them. Sad but true.

The first day on the set I had a scene with Ray. I was swimming alone in our indoor pool and he comes in and surprises/upsets me. His character was very unlike Ray. He played a quiet, internal and persnickety kind of lunar type of person. Whereas Ray is a sort of cockney, East-end boy who will not balk at "glassing someone in the head" who randomly upsets him in a pub (as happened at least one time that I know of during filming.) I noticed Ray was getting increasingly frustrated as the director spoke to him, (you have to know that following his experience with Gary Oldman would be a hard act to follow). And I was determined to get close to this incredible man, so I asked him what was going on. He promptly and conspiratorially replied with the nickname he had already given me,"Awwwww, he's givin' me some dodgy direction Shers.... Best not listen to him."

I fell in love with him. Not in a sexual way but just his character. He was so unique. I felt oddly protected by him. I knew he had my back and this proved to be true in more ways than one. Not to mention that was my introduction to one of my favorite words that I still use to this day. Dodgy. Such a perfect word to describe many situations. Ray would remind me that the real beauty is in the imperfections of people, of their actual faces, bodies and characters. Not to be sold the bullshit bill of goods Hollywood tried to sell me. I have a scar on the top of my nose between my eyes and a bump on my nose and Ray used to say that these were his favorite parts of my face. He believed that the director was "not a proper man" because he had no children. Ray was so thoroughly himself.......courageous, raw, flawed, deep, honest, sometimes scary, self destructive, a father of two daughters (at that point), a husband........ a PROPER man.

During my most difficult scene it was this proper man, Ray, that held the key to my completely letting go and going into a realm I have rarely visited in my work. It is difficult to have all the elements in place and trust enough to go really deep.... The entire film led to this moment for my character, the wife, who would now find out that her husband had been having an affair with Ray's wife and on an outing had been in a car accident where she was killed. He with his money had covered the entire event up. We did a take and I was not connected. I had since come to not rely on the director but on myself and on my fellow actors, especially Ray. But I was floundering here and it was bordering on melodrama. I was simply lost and went to the one I knew could help me. My RayMan.

I remember the feelings.....upset, lost, scared. The director after this one take was gonna move on, lame as he was, when it was just ok. I said I wanted another pass at the scene and went to privately talk with Ray. I begged please help me. That was awful and I am now getting dodgy direction if any at all. We huddled like a little mini football team head to head and he whispered to me in his darling accent. "Right, Shers....be a man in this scene. Do not think of yourself as a woman at all. Be a man and kill the motherfucker. Go at him the way another man would if confronted with this. Be physical."

It was not just the words but the energy behind what he said. He opened a door in me. Through my utter trust and respect of him. From the weeks of building a relationship. From walking through much in an honest way together he never rejected me for my honesty. He loved and embraced me for it. And now he was pushing me with mutual respect and love to allow myself to go deeper into the unknown and not to feel the need or have the limitations of being a "woman" while doing it.

The next take was a bit of a blur for me. Years of rage built up, of being lied to and being fucked with. The terrible injustices personally and collectively that I felt came flying out. I was like a wild animal. I do remember at one point holding my belly on the verge of literally throwing up. Thank God Ray had warned Tim (the husband) that I would definitely be getting physical and would be all over and I was. He also told the DP (who was using a hand held camera to follow me) that a lot of the marks (where an actor rehearses to be in the scene at certain points) were more than likely not going to be observed. He had my back....again.

At the end of the scene the crew burst into unprompted applause. I was sweaty, crying, laughing and ended up in a heap in first Ray's then my beloved makeup artist Kate's arms. It was nothing less than cathartic. Of course the uptight director did not completely approve. After all it was NOT as we rehearsed it. And he would not know magic if it bit him in the ass. He off centered asked the DP if he got it on film. And said,"Well....I didn't know THAT was gonna happen!" You cannot please everyone all the time. And I knew something special had happened during that scene and was grateful to have been able to go that far. Thinking of myself as a man in difficult scenes has become a kind of go-to tool for me in the rest of this crazy work I do. It stays with me always.

There was also a sort of theme of "death" around this trip that I only now can see in retrospect. It came in three fold. One element of this experience had to do with a desire to move to London upon finishing filming. Upon finishing the shooting, I moved into a flat in Knightsbridge with my son and nanny and had my mother begin to pack up my home. I got an agent there and I landed three jobs on beautiful little films. I then started to look for a flat to live in for a longer lease than the week to week I was occupying. During all of this I was drinking a lot, as is an English past time, and had a cold deep in my lungs that I could not seem to shake. There was a deep chill in the air of the city that went all the way to my bones. Not like Michigan, it went much deeper. I seemed to never be able to get warm bundled up as I often was.

Walking through the city, hailing the old-school black cabs, shopping at Harvey Nick's (my favorite store), it was all so familiar. The city holds so much history I could feel the ghosts of years gone by. The lyrical conversing everywhere was like a soundtrack. The unfortunate smell of "fags"(cigarettes as they are called there) permeating all restaurants. I walked around as if it were another part of me that was existing here... and it was. I was reliving past lives that the veil would not allow me to get a clear, logical glimpse of, but the feelings demanded acknowledgement. I confirmed to myself there had been many lives I had lived here......but another deep knowing came to me. That I would die in this city earlier than was intended if I were to stay.

So as is the case in my life, I was divinely protected and blocked through a series of events to not actually make the move. After many tearful goodbyes to my new found friends, the city and the seeming ghosts from the past, I reluctantly packed up and headed back to the city of lost angels. I was able to keep in touch for a while with my English counter parts and some even came to visit me. But life consumes and we all eventually got back onto our respective hamster wheels and sadly lost actual touch. But the memories live strongly in my heart and I hope in theirs as well. No one ever since called me Shers.....and no one better ever, lest they get a glass to the head.

The second element to this theme of death happened while we were filming, when Princess Diana was killed. Production shut down for a few days and I barely left my bed except to make another pot of soup. That is my comfort food and has been since I was a young child. I'm happy, I make soup. I'm sad, I make soup. Its 100 degrees outside, I make soup. I have been known in 5 star hotels to buy a crock pot, and all the ingredients and make soup. C'est moi. This time was no different. It was devastating. I don't think I knew how much Princess Diana meant to me before this. How I had taken her and her presence for granted. Why are human beings like that? Why must something be taken for us to then see its beauty? Arrogant, ignorant creatures are we at times. I have often thought to myself I don't want to be one of those people that must get gravely ill to see and embrace the beauty of my life.

I feel it was even more intense because we were across the water from London, where there was a collective morning unlike one I had experienced in my life. We were all moving through the air as if it was thick like water. We felt light, unreal and heavy all at the same time. Whatever you did Diana's face would appear in your consciousness. As if you personally knew her. And to me her ghost seemed to be screaming out that this was not an accident. How many people have we seen go like this. With an air of conspiracy around them. It's as if you can be truly good but you must hide it well because those powers that want control will take you down. All of us, once we got over the utter horror and shock felt certain this was foul play. But it would go hidden with all the other dirty secrets of a governing bodies that seek to control the masses.

The third element that completes the triad of the death theme was that of a young woman who worked on the set assisting wardrobe. A pretty "bird" (as the English call women) that seemed to have her entire life in front of her. Her name eludes me but I see her pretty face in my mind's eye. She used to be a model I was told. She was early to mid twenties at best. I was not as close to her as some of the others but we did spend a good amount of time together. After a night of partying on the Isle during filming, the birds including her came with a tale to tell.

They shared that the night before, after going to a few pubs they were exiting a place very loudly and drunkenly. This was the norm, a film production descending upon a small, quiet town. With all its pomp, pageantry and self important mind set. Our theme song of this shoot was a bawdy:

"I have whiskey drink, I have a vodka drink. Danny boy. Danny boy. Danny boy.
I get knocked down, but I get up again and you're never gonna get me down. " etc.

Whenever it came on we would scream, sing and dance to it. If it was not played it would surely be requested again and again. It was our anthem. Even at our flat, if it came on Myles and I would sing it and scream it and jump up and down. Literally. To this day when I occasionally hear it, it evokes a joy and a rebelliousness in me!

So back to the story, as these birds boisterously left a pub it seems they awoke an older woman that lived nearby that had been peacefully asleep. She angrily told them from her second story window to quiet down because the rest of the Isle was asleep. This apparently ignited an anger in the young woman in question and set her off on a verbal tirade with words spoken that would prove to be more poignant than any of us ever could've imagined. They shared with me what they said to her the next morning on the set laughing, and filled with bravado, "Shut up old woman, you're just jealous because we're young and beautiful and you're old and ugly and you have no life anymore. So bugger off!!!!"

The young woman in question said this with a kind of arrogance and self absorption that only a young person has. Dripping with the sarcasm of an "I know it all" mindset. One that is certain all is as consumed with her as she is with herself. It is a special kind of ugly for it's lack of conscience and holds zero regard for anyone else. It contains a sense of entitlement and an insatiable hole to get more, more, more of whatever it wants at the expense of whomever and whatever. I have since known other people like this which has made it much easier to identify now. In that moment, I am sure I laughed at the crazy ramblings of the birds. But a few months later those laughs would turn to shock, horror and many tears.

Once home from the Isle and London itself, my house unpacked after the premature boxing I forced my poor mother to do convinced I was moving. Myles beginning his first year of kindergarten. Busy, as was the norm.... I got a long distance call that rocked my world. It was Tara one of the birds and the key hair person from the film. She was affectionately known as my self proclaimed "sister from another planet" with her birthday a day after mine. I loved her and was closest to her of my English friends. Now here she was sobbing on the end of a dodgy cell phone connection from London. She reminded me that the young woman had moved into her flat with her upon returning from the Isle. Through her sobs and the crackling of the phone line I made out that the young woman was now dead. And to my horror, it was sweet Tara who had found her.

Many stories and speculations flooded in and out over the next few days as my phone bill soared to unbelievable heights. But after the police hunted down the young woman's boyfriend the pieces began to come together. Apparently this young woman with all her beauty and bravado had a huge hole inside of her and decided she wanted to die. She had fought with the boyfriend and supposedly got him to strangle her to death. Of course only the two of them knew the honest specifics of that fateful day. There in poor Tara's flat, on Tara's bed, forever haunting Tara's life with a memory that to the normal balanced person is unthinkable, save moments when one feels wronged by the world and wonder "wouldn't they be sad if I died."

I believe that is somewhat normal. What is not normal is to go the Syd and Nancy route. And to choose to take others with you and ruin their lives on some level. Or at least alter them until through therapy and a clear vision they can leave it where it belongs....in the past. Viewing the passed soul with compassion and knowing at least they are now free from the suffering this life presented them with.

I, to this day am haunted and amazed at the power of the spoken word. That this now deceased young woman only a few months ago screamed at this older woman, "You're just jealous because we're young and beautiful and you're old and ugly and you have no life." The irony cannot go unnoticed. That she is now in the ground and I am certain the older woman finished out her life peacefully on the Isle. That possibly spewing that kind of ugliness is detrimental to one's health. There are so many ways to consider the connection between these events. I believe there are no accidents and that we are accountable for out actions while we are here live on the planet. That everything you do will come back to you. This is the most bizarrely blatant case I recall from my life.

So Darkness Falls, as was the name of this rarely seen film, was appropriate on many levels. That light will always prevail and darkness WILL fall. That it fell upon Princess Diana and on the pretty young bird in wardrobe. I take peace in believing that she flew away to her source, the only place that can ultimately fill the hole. One has the right to make that choice, that ultimate choice. At least she did not leave behind casualties of sweet innocent children who would forever wonder if it had to do with them. And wrongly so. She left some friends like me and as adults we hurt and learn from it all. Of course her family as well, but I knew nothing of them. God blesses them as well. But make no mistake.....darkness falls.....again and again. Praise GOD!!!!!!!

Oh, To Dream...

2010-09-05T08:49:00.000-07:00

As my sweet household slumbers in these wee morning hours, I sit sipping my morning coffee feeling contented and peaceful. The sliding glass door to our yard is open and the air is cool on my bare feet touching the wood floor. I hear some birds occasionally tweeting their morning signals of light and the beginning of a new day. They seem as happy as I that the sun has not reached its merciless highs that it will as the day proceeds. Content to soak up this refreshingly cool and quiet time of day. It is my favorite time of day. Before all the deafening hummmm of people's technology and appliances drowns out the subtle birds and breeze. Before the rushed energy of the have nots and gottas do's is awakened.

A yappy dog is barking and even that seems in sync with it all. How do I sustain this moment? Why must everything change and change? Yet how god-awful and boring if it did not. It just seems to me that I have struggled for so long... Since I was a young child and realized that I was kind of on my own. An alien in my own family and needed to seek out a more evolved tribe of which to be a part. I have been seeking this tribe for most of my life. I have found one in my man, my children and a few friends. I have even found some of them here on this God box... Oddly enough.

I always wonder when the amazingly perfect chapters of my life will start. You know women, the ones that we were fed as little girls. The ones that start with........"And they lived HAPPILY ever after." Those that mark the beginning of a new life where there is only positive beautiful things happening. Where I will run through a field of white flowers and tall, warm high grass. Where there is a weeping willow before me with a small pond that it dips into for a sip of the cool clean water. Where the sky is blue and the sun beats warmly on my head and shoulders. Where some beautiful inspired Kate Bush Wuthering Heights play and I dance a strange eclectic ballet of my own making as I do only when I am certain no one can see me.

Then I awaken from this dream and into another as I hear my Christian James at the top of the stairs. I go to him and as I see his beautiful, still half asleep 3 year old face my heart jumps. He stands there in a white wife beater and red skull and crossbones pj shorts awaiting me cradling his long lean clone of daddy body down the stairs. I bury my face into his sweet smelling hair, caressing his soft skin and again I wish to be nowhere but here. This a different kind of heaven but equally if not more potent.

He climbs into our big red ice cooler and hides inside it with sheer delight. His world at this age is always new and joyful. For he feels what he feels as he feels it, expresses it fully and LOUDLY, then moves gracefully into the next moment. I admire him so. I learn from him all day long. And diligently do my job as I did with my now 16 year old......to let them know how deeply and truly they are loved. How lucky I am to be graced and blessed with both of their presences in my life. I give them my heart, my body, my everything. And in return I open to a love unlike anything I have ever known and am then able to go deeper into my existing relationships.

As I am writing right now, my boy nurses from one side to the other. Taking ownership of what he believes to be his and his alone much to daddy's dismay. What has been his domain since he was only hours new to this planet. It brings him health and great security. I am in awe that my 45 year old body can provide for him this way. As I did for my other son who is as healthy as he is not by accident. Another miracle. It is no less than this. The miraculous in the seeming mundane. A few minutes of nourishment and he is off, back to the yard, chasing the cat, climbing into the red cooler......this is my running through the fields. His talking and humming is my Kate Bush. My soundtrack in these moments.

His stare, be it long or short brings me into the grace of this moment. The smile in his eyes. The deep knowing. The spirit. He has rescued me from Hollywood and all its lies and trappings. As my Myles tried to. But without an in tact, true blue man to assist it was not possible. Besides, then I was still seeking the golden ring. I still thought it held something that would fill me. Now I know better. I see the young start ups and am thankful to not be them. Thankful to not be the "ingenue." Thankful to be a woman, a mother, an awake spirit not asleep to the lies anymore. Be they from a fairy tale, a bullshit business based on illusions and ego or a family as dysfunctional and lost as most are. I am free.

So what I see is that it is all a dream. Some light and some dark but all equally beautiful.

A sacred space.

2010-08-27T08:22:00.000-07:00

As is usual I received a few comments that were bothersome that I would like to address in a blog. I want to reiterate for those new to this blog that it is MINE to do with it as I see fit. I realize that my being deeply honest is a threat to some, especially those who feel the need to wear a mask and hide their dirty little secrets. I do not choose to do that in my life. I am an open book and will write a memoir that is just that. Starting with my childhood and how that manifests in ways in my life. Here I post beginning seeds of that memoir.

To comment on what something may or may not do to my relationship is quite arrogant. My man actually wrote about the porno issue and his lack of ability to tell the truth on HIS blog before I did. He does not have the fatal flaw of cowardice. Obviously he and I are on the same page. Some of you may choose to live your life another way and that is fine. Truth has many faces. But this is my face and my space to share. If it is offensive to you somehow, I suggest you just don't come here to read my truth at all. But to criticize, to tell me particular entry is more of a "talk with girlfriends" or a diary entry is ludicrous and only speaks to the manner in which you live your life.

In fact, I have an entry that is called Dear Dairy because that is my goal here, to share , with no holes barred. This is also how I live my life having been born into great lies and dysfunction. It is the people with this hush attitude that are part of the great die off that the world is experiencing. The fearful, don't let them see you sweat breed that is miserably asleep. I live to blast all that bullshit into pieces and for the most part have readers that are of the new breed that want to do the same. They are my tribe and I love and cherish their support. They have responded with deep truths of their own and THAT is the forum I choose to set up here and inhabit.

So go back to the sleep, from whence you came. Go back to your cherished pornography, go back to your life with you cracked mask firmly in place. Good luck with it all. But stay off of this sacred space where my tribe and I share the real deal. It is our birth right to step into that truth, the only real power we have and will not be criticized by the likes of you. I will delete any messages that share this stale, old, dying point of view. As I did in the spoken of case.

We are the future in all the glory that is here and coming in daily. We all grow here and dance in the light of the truth. And yes that means we can see the cockroaches scrambling to hide in the darkness of their masks. But they better move fast because we will squash them if they try ti infect this new breed with their sleep and lies.

That is all for now......

Alleged, might just be a ledge.

2010-08-22T13:34:00.000-07:00

This morning I went to my second AA morning meeting. I have found or rather it has found me. Five minutes from my home. Interesting people with really honest shares. I am home....again. I was sober a few times in the career of my life. The most amount of time I ever stayed sober was just over a year. Then my beloved sponsor Tanya moved to New York so I used it as an excuse to jump off the wagon. She had kind of become my higher power. She had everything that I wanted. Then I lost her. It triggered what for me is a core issue. One of a few actually.

So it was more than just me just going back to my old destructive ways . It was a deep feeling of being abandoned, yet again. And so as a result, abandoning myself. This is another old pattern of mine. To believe I am not worthy of love. To look for my well being based on the outside instead of my inside. To fill the wrong hole. To believe all the false beliefs that were installed into me as a result of my young parents and their lost lives. Lineages are a bitch.

My drugs of choice have always been smoking pot and drinking alcohol. Mostly wine. Less alcohol content. Yea, that sounds good. But all it means is that you need to drink more of it. Addictions can come in so many different sizes and shapes. Sugar, sex, food, negative thoughts, people pleasing, exercise, cleaning, computers, iphones, texting, tweeting, porno, ice cream, chocolate, buying shoes, buying clothes, hoarding.......this list could go on forever. If everyone is really honest with themselves they will find a few things that they have an addictive relationship with. It's human. But some are more dangerous than others.

For some people drinking is just a social thing. For me it was a way of life. I am by nature too sensitive and shy. So these "spirits ' enter me and I can let go. But the real question I have begun to ask is what am I letting go of ? Why do I need what is essentially a poison to let go? Why not just let go and let God..... It seems I am running but from what and to where? Wherever I go, there I am. So I made the decision to run no more.

At my meeting this morning in question..... some people spoke honestly of the insanity that ensued from their drinking. They spoke of the ways that drinking almost killed them. I thought to myself smugly, well, I had a high bottom. I never did anything that insane. Drinking or using never almost got to the point of killing me!!! These people are certainly far worse off then I. Psychic amnesia was filtering into me from my disease.

A few hours later I was speaking with a best friend/sister Joanie explaining the whys of my decision to stop. Explaining the high bottom theory. Which basically means that I was a high functioning addict. We then moved onto my recent influx of blogging and she said I really needed to start my memoir. That I had already begun with my blog. I just needed to expand more on the stories.We shared about the title "Postcards from the ledge" based on the wonderful Carrie Fisher book. That she had addictions and was in the Hollywood scene and all. It was familiar however unoriginal in terms of actors with addictions and self destructive behavior. But the Gods as they often do knew better regarding the blog title. It was not arbitrary. There was a much deeper meaning to it and one that had eluded me until that moment.

I had come up with the title in jest. As a kind of nod to Carrie Fisher's book/experience. As our conversation continued through the grocery store, a memory came back to me that filled me with embarrassment and shame. I stopped and shuddered. Trying to shake off the memory. Wondering dare I tell my friend.......but dove in as is usually the case with me.

So the story goes:

When I was making the film Boxing Helena I had a hotel room on the 20th floor. Everyone also was staying across the street at a less than acceptable hotel. Elizabeth had rubbed off on me after all. My room had a beautiful marble bathroom, goose down duvet covered comforters on a king size bed and a very large balcony that overlooked the city. I had brought my white, deaf, blue eyed kitten Ophelia who had indeed gone mad at the hands of dear Hamlet.

One night she had escaped from the room onto the balcony and was now scaling a foot wide wall to an area where night lights illuminated the greats heights of the Nikko Buckshead, Georgia. I in my alcohol/pot induced heroic delusions of grandeur followed her out there determined to save her. On my hands and knees I went out right after her with my poor friend Susanlinn crying on the balcony behind me frightened. Rightly so. She had the brains that my addictions had erased in that moment.

I remember being up there still. It was a bit windy and that seemed to be my only worry. That and the fact that my girlfriend would not let go of my foot making it all the more difficult. The lights were so bright and hot with many bugs buzzing around them. Ophelia was drawn to them like the moth to the flame. I was drawn to dangerous situations too it would seem. As I grabbed her I wondered how now I would get back. Only one way, backwards while she howled her odd meow and dug her claws deep into my arm. Thank God for this film, my arms were barely seen or required..

The next day as I returned from the set and opened my traditional bottle of vino and rolled a joint. I steeped onto my balcony to find there was now barbed wire across the entire area and a sign in bold letters to stop my demons from me performing another idiotic act like that again. Thanks to my friend.
Unfortunately the barbed wire only could contain what may happen there on the balcony. I needed it for the whole of my life for there were many situations to come.

As I stood there in the grocery in a refrigerated section I was frozen. Not from the chill in the air of the freezers but the chill in my bones that I too had indeed put my own life in danger. My ego of the earlier time at the meeting tucked its tail between its legs and disappeared for now. How badly I had lied to myself about that. How many countless other times had I refused to remember.

I feel it is essential to shine a light on my life as a whole. As I write my memoir it will be a life story. And how I believe my childhood (and everyone else's) informs my adult life. What core issues helped to create the emotional makeup that I struggle with everyday. This is how I was taught by my beloved teacher. This is my version of turning, facing and slaying my own dragons.

The best laid plans of mice and men.

2010-08-17T19:18:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.....when I got the script for "Of mice and men" I had never even read the book. I am a high school drop out and when I did drop in between all my crazy teenage dramas, reading was not my strong suit. So all I knew was that this was written by a classic American writer John Steinbeck. And that the amazing John Malkovich would be starring in the lead role. With his dear friend Gary Sinise directing and starring in it as well. That they came out of the prestigious Steppenwolf theatre in Chicago.

Theatre....like a dirty word to me. I could barely act on film but in the theatre. Never. Too many people watching you at one time. I got nervous when there were too many people on the set. I am not a ham. That is not what has kept me acting all these years. It has been to look at all my stuff so I did not go crazy in my life. Hmmmmmm, I don't think it worked.

I remember sitting on my bed in my cool little house on Cynthia street in West Hollywood. It was post "Twin Peaks"," Ruby" and "Diary of a Hit man" that my dear teacher directed me in with Forrest Whitaker. I was now mother to not only my Persian cat, Chanel but a beautiful young Akita male named Yogi. Named because he was a great teacher of patience for me. He always made me feel so safe living alone as I did.

Upon closing the last page and reading poor, sweet Lenny's inevitable demise I cried and cried and cried. To me it was a real love story between two friends. Best friends. On the surface it looked as though Lenny needed George more than the other way around. But I felt differently. They both equally needed each other, took care of each other, were life partners until the last breath. I often wondered what would become of poor George with Lenny gone. I feel he was not long on the earth after that. That he'd never make old bones.

My hair was still in a Cruella DeVille mode. I has bleached only the hair line around my face for Ruby and wore a wig over the rest. This was to avoid having a lace front wig glued to my head as is the practice. And I liked this odd look anyway. Best of both worlds. But not for auditioning for most roles I came to find out.

When I went in to meet and audition for Gary I had to put a temporary color over the platinum blond. I think we still had to do more filming or re shoots or something. So it looked a little dodgy to me but I went with it. It was better than walking in looking like a calico cat for a piece of classic American literature.

It went well and I was asked to screen test for the role with John. It was between me and two other girls. One an unknown who knew the guys from Steppenwolf.......shit!!!! The other I do not remember who it was or if I even knew. I was told later that Diane Lane was asked to test but she would not. Her loss , I"m afraid. I would have done anything to be a part of such a beautifully written, heartfelt story with this amazing cast.

It has only happened two times in my 26 year career that the director made the call to me personally to say I had gotten the role and this time was the first. It came out of nowhere and at a painful time in my life. The man I had been dating a year left me for Julia Roberts....another blog for another time. I answered my phone and was shocked to hear Gary's scratchy voice on the other end. He simply said,"Will you be in my movie?"I am sure he never heard the same after my screaming shrieks of delight.

And so it began...... I felt so proud. I felt accomplished. John Malkovich. My first love Johnny had turned me onto him. It was one of his favorite actors and for good reason. He was and is a wonderfully unforgettable actor. He was also quite kind and low key at the screen test.

We would be filming in the Santa Inez valley. I had not ever been there. It was the perfect location with farm land for as far as the eye could see. The production had rented me a house. Me, my best friend from high school Susie and Yogi, my Akita set out for location to settle into farm life. With one old school local store where the guys would actually meet and throw horse shoes. A millions of stars in the sky every night, I could escape the pain of my life and express it in the pain of anothers.

It was idyllic. We ran around in summer dresses and boots. Otherwise your feet would get filthy as there were many dirt paths and roads. You could smell the green in the air. And a kind of sun stroked grass.The fine granulars of dirt seemed to get everywhere. In your ears, eyes and hair. It was all oddly charming. It made my job so much easier with all my senses responding to all of this new input.

The creating of Curley's wife......

We played very subtle but specifically with her look. Each seen carefully thought out. The most vibrant we would see her is the very first time she appears on screen and meets Lenny and George. A dress with fuchsia-purple flowers on it. And even a strong colored lip to match. Her hair finger waved to match all the movie magazines that with her records were the only joy this abused young woman had known.

It was kind of a psychological thing that I had worked and plotted out with my beloved teacher Roy London who was still alive at the time. Gary and the costume and hair dept embraced it whole heartedly. Nothing was arbitrary. They could only see her outside at that point. Judging this book by its cover. And she was a threat. Because not only was she pretty but she was also needy and open. Although the later was yet to be revealed.

In each following scene, she would become less and less outwardly made up and more and more inwardly opened and revealed. That is the real beauty anyway. All the way until her very last scene where she was in a white dress with little, tiny red dots all over it. Almost like the red cross. As undone and vulnerable as we have seen her. Just kind of coming apart.

Another deeply touching thing is that Gary decided that Daisy [as I named her because she was always just called Curley's wife] was going to be written another scene to deepen an understanding of her. This was not in the book. I was so flattered. Another point for the "sad angel." And later as the film was too long, the studio suggested this scene be cut as it was not in the original. But Gary refused to cut it and found other places to trim and leave what little we saw of Daisy in tact. My hero...

It was a scene where after Lenny broke Curley's hand and he and George are talking outside, she comes over to them to talk and connect. To tell them that Curley had broken all her records. She is crying and then she thanks Lenny for hurting him. They reject her and she runs away..... Its heartbreaking. Well, it felt that way. I don't see my work. I just feel it.

My final scene with John was the most difficult. It was a very long scene, many pages. It was also so hot in the barn. I felt so raw doing it. And I was beating myself up wanting it to be so perfect. Wanting John's and Gary's approval. Maybe I wanted my own. I should've known that whatever I do I never feel it is good enough. Again, my training.

"No artist is pleased.... there is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction; a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."
Martha Graham to Agnes DeMille

We shot all day. During my close up I will never forget the kindness of sweet John. I would be thinking, planning, stressing and he would tickle me and say relax, you know this. He was the type who would do the most magical takes, then walk over to his chair, sit down and read the paper. Or want to talk about the latest. He loved gossip. He was so much fun to work with.

This was the time of the Anita Hill-Clarence Thomas hearings and we would gather at my house sometimes to watch the latest footage. The ultimate gossip. John came over and would make his amazing bruschetta. My best friend would bring us amazing pasta sauce from our favorite restaurant in LA, Madeo. We'd sit around the best thing there was to watch on TV at that point. A sign of the reality TV craze to come. John would say again and again,"They fucked....you know they fucked!!!" It was our little groups general consensus.

My friend Susie was ever present but sort in the background. So John called her the ranch wife. He said years down the line he would hear a news story of how Susie pulled out a shotgun and blew many people away. Funny for she is sweet and mild mannered and polite. But she will eternally be..... The ranch wife. We still laugh about this. So far, she has not lost it. But did, by her own admission come close a few times. Who hasn't???

The story would not be complete if I did not say that I was not completely proud of all of my actions while I was making this film. I would not hurt anyone to say why specifically. But if you happen to read this, I am deeply sorry for my at times young and selfish actions. I deeply apologize for that. To the rest of you, none a yo business. I intended to be a good girl and tried....but the best laid plans....

The woman, not the legend.

2010-08-11T14:29:00.000-07:00

When I realized that I was actually gonna play the role of Elizabeth Taylor in a mini-series, my heart literally skipped a beat. Or two or ten or twenty!!! Sure there were artists in the hair and makeup department that could help me to transform. Combined with a great director of photography, that part did not scare me. I knew they existed and the right team would be assembled.

The real question was how to play this legend. How to hit the high and low points of her life in an 8 week shoot. Playing her 15 years old to 65. It was a daunting task but I was ready to take it on. Or so I thought. It was truly the most difficult role I have ever played in my career as an actor.

At the core of my endless research was the mantra: I want to discover and illuminate the WOMAN not the legend/icon. That was the most I could give this experience. There are so many misconceptions about people in the public eye. I have had them directed at me. And directed them about others that I look up to as well. This was not the mistake I wanted to make. I was determined.

I really hoped Elizabeth would meet and speak to me. I was told she would only do this if (a) certain things were removed from the script and (b) if she were compensated monetarily. This is what I was told anyway. We could not accommodate her wishes unfortunately. The fact that I was on my own only motivated me even more to keep the integrity of the piece in tact. Which during the process turned to be a fight at times.

The original script was quite good. By a well know writer who later took his name off because the producer kept rewriting scenes. Literally, himself. On the back of a truck with a small table and a haggard assistant at his side as he barked out orders. It was crazy and ridiculous. Thank God I had a good, strong lawyer at the time. And his work was cut out for him on this one.

The first issue to tackle before filming was the fact that Elizabeth had an ever changing accent. Sometimes it was there in full force, other times it was gone completely. It often coincided with who she was married to at the time. So how to play that without just being called inconsistent as the actor??!!!!

It was decided by my dialect coach and I that I would always have a slight but distinct accent. So we worked for weeks and she accompanied me on the set as well. Thank God. First problem solved but many more were to come fast and furious.

We started shooting very quickly it felt. I was flying by the seat of my pants. When you play someone as well know as she is, the wardrobe had to be meticulously accurate. This called for endless fittings as most of the costumes needed to be made from scratch.

The first day on the set of what would be 6 day work weeks for 8 weeks was chaotic. Keep in mind that as an actor your day does not end when the filming ends. You need to study for the next day. And in my case I need to always look at the next 3 days so I can get the words in my head and begin to memorize. And with an accent. At the time my first born was only about 1 and still nursing. It was consuming on every level.

So the very first day started out funky. They put me into a tiny, dodgy and septic smelling trailer. I was so angry. My dear makeup artist (and i do mean artist she was nominated for her work on the show) said to me she was going to teach me two very important words. "Prairie Scooner." What?? That was the name of a beautiful trailer that even had the ability to get wider if the space permitted. And that with all this intense work and time on the set and constant fittings IN my trailer and my baby coming, it was the least they could do.

I promptly called my managers,agent and lawyer and when I arrived the next day on the set there she was. Beautiful, big and gleaming. Also wide as all hell and not smelly. Now THIS is what Elizabeth deserved! Remember, I had a young child at this time who spent a lot of time on the set with me. Still nursing as he was and the love of my life. With a brutal schedule this would be the case and he and I deserved to be taken care of appropriately.

The schedule was always hectic. Many scenes per day. Wardrobe fittings between scenes. I was dropping weight like crazy. Not because I wanted to. Because it was exhausting and I was being pulled in many directions constantly. Not to mention a series of "husbands" coming on and off the set wanting to rehearse, give me their notes, or in the case of the actor playing Richard Burton just drink alcohol 24/7. Method acting? Or just an excuse to be loaded all the time, don't know, don't care.

I love the Katherine Hepburn quote: Acting makes a woman more of a woman and a man more of a woman. Sad but true.

The character of Elizabeth as a woman was like my own mother in many ways minus a successful career. Many husbands, lots of glamour and makeup, certain addictions and a lot of men and children left as causalities of a narcissistic lifestyle. This proved to put a stress on my psyche unlike any other I had ever experienced before or since on a set. It took therapy later to realize what was actually going on.

I have never before or since shut down a set. On this show it happened two times that I can remember. The body and the mind do not remember really painful things. That you will learn if you have had a baby or someone close to you does. Without drugs. It is interesting how it works. Or a severe car accident, you just kind of black out. So I don't remember it all really specifi
cally but what I do, I will share here and now.

The personal notes of my heart and soul the work was hitting combined with the intense schedule and the fierce commitment to myself to do this woman and her life justice even though she did not want me to make this movie almost put me over the edge. No, it did put me over the edge but I bounced back.

About halfway through the filming was when it got really bad. I remember thinking I am only halfway through her life...how will I finish this thing. I was about 100 lbs and looked so worn out. My philosophy teacher got mad at me and said: Its not like you are playing Joan of Arc. She was a proper broad who spoke like a sailor and could drink most men under the table. Stop killing yourself for this role. But I did not listen. To me her humanity made her a saint.

In my research I stumbled upon a piece of candid footage that was for me a photograph into the woman. It became the touchstone of who she was and was seared into my memory. She was boarding her and Richards yacht, the Kalizma. Named after a few letters of each of their children's names. And with shaky, hand held footage I saw the woman I was seeking to play and understand. A photographer accidentally called Richard "Mr. Taylor". Bad move.

Her head whipped around and with a snarl on her lips all of her seeming refinement had vanished. She sought the offense with fire in her eyes and venomously asked: What did you say. He stumbled and spattered his apologies. Her reply to his I'm sorry was simply but powerfully: You better be.

There she was peeking out from all the Hollywood bullshit glamour. A tigress for the one she loved. She'd have taken him out. It was palpable her energy. Her passion. I loved her in that moment more than any other. There was the real Elizabeth. Only ever to be seen on film in my opinion in "Who's afraid of Virginia Wolfe." That is her. To me anyway.

You must keep in mind that she was of the age of Hollywood packaging their stars. That meant to great lengths they would go to control the image. Dressing them and in most cases controlling almost every aspect of their lives. I often feel that is why as she got older her clothes got more character and kind of odd. Because she would no longer be "styled" by someone. Left to her own devices there were some interesting fashion statements. But I loved them because it is in some of those clothes you get to see the real Elizabeth. The one packaged by God, if you will, not the studio.

So I remember I got sick with a cold/flu thing going around and could barely get out of bed. I did so and was barely functioning on the set. My manager was new in my life so I called the one person I have counted on my entire life to help me. My oldest big brother Leo. He promptly came to the set, took one look at me and basically told the producer that he was taking me home. NOW. That a doctor would meet us at my house. He wrapped me up, put me in his car and away we went. My hero....

The doctor demanded that I take the next few days off. Since I was in 95 0/0 of the scenes production had to shut down as well based on locations and other points. I remember being in bed, wondering how I would ever get through the second half of this filming.

My immune system already having been compromised the next time this happened was even stranger. I was doing a scene with the actor playing Eddie Fisher and breaking up with him. I was all dressed up in a canary yellow dress, make up perfect, hair an updo dream. But as I tried again and again to do my close up I was told I was looking into the lens instead of at the actor. During most close ups, the actor off camera is put as close to lens as possible so the feeling are deeply conveyed and that much more potent.

I fought and told them they were ridiculous, that I was NOT doing that. I was a professional and I knew not to look into the lens. We all began arguing and fighting and I felt that I was losing my mind. Again my brother came to the rescue never having seen his little sister in such a state. He removed me from the set again as the producer protested asking if we couldn't just finish this scene. Leo would have hurt him if he was not such an old man.

Once home my doctor made another house call and declared that I had "stress fatigue syndrome." What?? He shared that this is something that soldiers at war get. Their brain shuts down and their body just keeps going but rather inefficiently. WOW. It oddly rang true. Although it seemed odd to compare making a movie to war. Yet it had been a war of sorts. And emotions are fragile when pushed too much, hence nervous breakdowns. So production shut down for the second time.

Later in a therapy session the truth of what was happening the latter time had been made clear. This man, this actor, reminded me of my second father. Someone I had loved deeply and who my mother had left for another man, hurting him deeply. A part of me hated her for that. In some weird abstract way I could not do it to him. I could not look in his eyes and do what she had done. I had a physiological response. The wounds go deep if one has the courage to look.

There are more stories from this experience but I fear its gone on too long already. So I will close with a verifying moment for me. I used to see this old, well known dermatologist. I was at his office after the show had aired getting a treatment. As I waited the door opened and an attractive older woman peeked her head in. She said she was a friend of Elizabeth's. That although she had never contacted me, she was pleased with the end result. What more could I ask for.....

Here we "grow" again.

2010-08-10T11:55:00.000-07:00

There seems to me to be such a huge chasm between positive and negative right now. Its like I am on a bizarre and surreal roller coaster ride. On one hand- I am encounter great beauty and piercing light, so deep that it hurts. On the other, a rage and darkness so potent I want to run and hide....but I will not.

I know that both of these exist within me and in all of us really. I can deal with my own most of the time but others psychic attacks are more challenging for me. I can be moved by the love I experience but shaken to the core by the rage coming at me from the outside.

Why do I seem to get more affected by the later? Why can't I just not take it personally and move on, being soothed by all that is good in my life. It by far outweighs the bad. Is it that I have more darkness and rage in me than I care to acknowledge? Or that it keeps all the false beliefs I have about myself firmly in place so I never move forward into real joy in my life?

Am I the only one who experiences this dilemma? Of course not, although my ego would say otherwise I know it is just another lie it tells me to stay in the drivers seat as I try to continually try to pull it out while going 110 on the freeway of this crazy life we are all dealing with right now. That is a run on sentence but oh well.....

There was a series of events back to back in the past 2 weeks that blew my mind. They were not random or coincidence as some would try to dismiss them. They were deeply and intrinsically connected in ways that are for the most part not in my conscious sight. They created or more accurately illuminated another tangled web in my psyche. Uhhhh, more work to do. Hence the title of this blog, here we grow again.

It started with my man lying to me [again] about watching porno. Something I find disgusting and degrading to women. Not to mention the fact that I believe it lets horrible energy into ones being. Making love is the most one can give another physically and spiritually to another. To me it is scared. This world has turned that to into a "profit" while securing the patriarch, yet again.

So yes he lied to me, face to face, eye to eye, and it hurt. I understand that he has had very little examples of experience of truth in his life, even as a child. But I have been truthful with him in all ways and he knows lies are something I find almost impossible to tolerate. And did so anyway.

In all fairness, its important to share that I do not have the healthiest relationship with sex either. I grew up with little to no room to discover me that way because of the suffocating nature of my mothers relationship to it. I explored it in some of my films in an effort to understand and accept it more not because I was so comfortable with my body, or a sex kitten or whatever other bizarre labels people put on me as a result.

So he lied and my trust in our relationship was compromised. Along with igniting some of my intense issues around it.

A few days later I had a meeting for possibly being packaged in a pilot for a funny tv show with someone who I had worked with before who shall remain nameless. This man is someone that was in big trouble when we worked together. Having problems with serious drugs and in a strange, sick relationship. But a part of me fell in love with him.

I have a big mouth ,as you know and I cared for him enough to say somethings to him while we worked together. To my pleasant surprise he is now sober for over a year and did not hate me for the things I said. So we with the would be producer met for a lunchish thing to reconnect.

There is a storm around him still. I was so happy to see him yet all my desires to try to save him kicked in again. As if I could..... I honestly know that we have known each other in another life. There was immense energy between us from the first time we met. He is attractive , has a good heart, is sexy and trouble.

When we worked together I remember I kept telling myself not to be stupid. And had to consciously not hang out with him. It was difficult but I knew it would end ugly. Watching his life descend into mayhem the past few I was thankful I had listened to my instincts.

But now here he was in front of me again. Almost the same temptation. Don't get me wrong, I have not and never will cheat on my man. If it does not work out with us, I will leave with my integrity firmly intact. Soap operas in my life hold no glamour for me anymore. I simply feel that it is essential for me to illuminate my truth and my struggles, for me. And maybe some of you will relate.

Sitting next to him, everything came rushing back. That combined with the knowledge that he was just as confused as before. That his sobriety has not yet given him a sort of emotional sobriety. I loved him, hated him and was scared of him all at once. But love as always prevailed....

So I had some wine to try to get through it. These "spirits" only seem to make things worse is what I keep coming to these days. He buffered what I said to him over and over. Joking how I had gotten in his face all those years ago, telling stories of my first love Johnny and his Hilter wife and remembering playing super heroes with my first son Myles, that Myles to this day has never forgotten.

You see he is like this. Completely unforgettable. But he in his heart does not know or believe this to be true. After being 30 minutes late, he jumped up 10 minutes into our conversation and said he needed to buy cigarettes. When he came back he brought two pairs of sunglasses he had just purchased. One for his asst who was there with us and another for himself, that he promptly put on.

They were mirrored and I said I am so not gonna sit here looking at myself in your glasses. Please note he did not have them on OUTSIDE but put them on once he sat down with us. I want to see your eyes. He got a little irritated with me as people do because I want to "see" them and be "seen" by them. I want to connect in a real way. Nobody did in my life as a child and I had no control over that. But as an adult I do have more control over that and do my best to keep it real.

He then said sheepishly the most honest thing he said through our time together:

"I want to wear them so you don't see a sadness in my eyes." Sweet man, I did not have the heart to share that I had already seen it. From the moment I met him all those years ago, to seeing him walk into the restaurant late, to the moment we said goodbye and he looked over his shoulder saying I'll call you tonight. You better answer. He never called and I knew he wouldn't. Its ok though..... I still love his heart even if he does not.

The next day I began to get very aggressive comments on this blog....again. And some of my dear friends came to defense. It got worse and worse. It became sexual, racist and violent by the time I got my man to block and report this person. But not before as I showed him the person's name, his page came up with a picture of his private parts exposed. Amazing. This I did not want or need to see.

As if the words were not ugly enough.... that added insult to injury. Especially given the situation with my man. And the confused nature of my friend. The light dancing with the dark. It just all came together into this ugly distorted ball of.....well, I don't know what. I am still digesting it. The god's have a sense of humor but do I??!!!

So yes, I am growing and walking towards light as I asked my friend to do. I said to him didn't you go dark enough???? But with all of this maybe it is ME I was really asking that question of.

Everything is always a mirror of ones own stuff, I believe. This is both comforting and frightening. I wish I knew how to sum all of this up but I do not.

I then went to the Twin Peaks festival in Snoqualmie Washington and was met with such kindness and love. Good people with good energy. In one of the most magical places on the earth. I had a gorgeous waterfall outside my window and it was my baby's 3rd birthday that our little family celebrated. Amazing beauty.

But received ugly posts on my facebook from a different person for not sending him an autographed pic. There are so many examples of these extreme dualities in the past month for me even beyond what I have written about. I wish I could untangle this knot and have more clarity and peace with it.

Maybe it is just a constant reminder that all exists on this planet. That I cannot hide from it. As sometimes I would like to in a bubble. I think of an amazing piece of the Bhagavad Gita: This is only the end of the it. But now that I remembered it, I have more peace.

"Even murders and rapists,

tyrants, the most cruel fanatics,

ultimately know redemption

through my love, if they surrender

to my harsh but healing graces.

Passing through excruciating

transformation, they find freedom

and their hearts find peace within them.

I am always with all beings;

I abandon no one. And

however great your inner darkness,

you are never separate from me.

Let your thoughts flow past you, calmly;

keep me near, at every moment;

trust me with your life, because I

AM you, more than you yourself are."

And so it is....

Walk towards light....

2010-06-23T08:52:00.000-07:00

This planet that we are living on is changing...at a dramatic pace. I see people all around me catching the wave of a beautiful transitional and sometimes extremely painful evolution of humanity. Personal and collective. Through connections with whomever comes into the sphere of my life,be it a waitress to an executive (although there is NO difference between them) there is a palpable seeking and searching for a new path. A need for questions deep inside to be answered. A desire to not experience so much pain. A questioning of the choices they are making in their lives. And in a rare situation, a person who has achieved all they thought they needed to be "happy" yet, alas, they are not.

Rumi, one of my favorite writers attributes this to the fact that we are "plucked from our source" where we are in communion with our source in a tangible way. That when we come here, all we see in separation. Seeming separation anyway. We are always with our source. Yet we feel abandoned in a strange new world. That when we came from a light, spirit place....now we are dense and heavy. Sound familiar???

After much seeking in my life I always had the question that few could speak to in a way that made sense to me. Or resonated with my heart because most esoteric concepts are far beyond my little computer mind anyway. I never bought that we had to come here to "learn something." I believe we ALL come from source/GOD/supreme being/tree (hehehe) it matters not what you call it. And since we come from that and ARE that and that is perfect, this idea that we are flawed and now need to be fixed and learn seemed like bullshit to me.

The concept that resonates with me the most is that GOD being one and infinite seeks to experience itself. It seeks the mirror of itself. And so being infinite an abundance of things are created. People of different shapes, sizes and colors. Animals...flowers...trees...endless displays of it everywhere you look. And on this plane of duality some will be "beautiful" and some may be not so "beautiful."

It seems we all just want the beautiful states of being. And seek to hang onto them with such intensity that we make our lives so much harder than they need to be. And we lose in the process because no state is sustainable. This is the concept the Buddhists call staying in the center of the wheel. The wheel of life which inevitably goes up and down. If ones hangs onto the outside of the wheel there is a series of ups and downs. But the center keeps you just that. Centered, watching and observing but not going up and down constantly. Allowing all that is this experience.

We are "Spiritual beings having a human experience, not human beings having a spiritual experience." An amazing quote that I am not sure where it originated. Possibly Rumi, as well.

This does not mean that one does not feel and becomes a sort of zombie. It means that we experience less pain with the inevitable things that occur in our lives. We need to be like that of a child. They feel all their feelings fully, then move on. Without holding an inner account to beat themselves or someone (a loved one, a co-worker, a friend) with.

The holding of these accounts can also bastardize your future because "state your limitations and they will surely be yours." We are ALL GOD. And we create everyday, every moment with out thoughts, words and actions. Even the secret thoughts that we keep deep inside, ashamed for anyone to see or hear. They unconsciously inform all we do. All that comes to us. Stop blaming. Its us.

First we blame our parents, then we blame ourselves, then we stop blaming.

This is quite empowering. Everything is a mirror, so when we look at whats is in our lives, we brought it in. Also, we have the power to change it all. In the moment we decide to do so. In every moment there is an infinite amount of choices that can be made. Walk towards light. That is simple concept and a real leveler in the madness of all the voices in one's head. And in the madness that we are all going to experience in this lifetime. For we are gonna see some amazing and crazy and at times scary things.

Just ask yourself,"Am I walking towards light."

It makes for a heaven on earth experience. Yes, it may be that you don't want to in this life. That you want to walk towards darkness. That is your choice. You will end up back at the source anyway. But I choose to walk towards light.

Moments from Peaks pilot.

2010-05-12T14:00:00.000-07:00

Going to film the pilot of Twin Peaks (then being called Northwest passage) was an exciting time for me. It was of course a huge nod towards feeling like a legitimate actress to be working with David. And to have the role, small as it was to have been written for me. I only wished in my heart that it was bigger. Little did I know....

I had no idea how long moments in Davids world could last an eternity. What is on the screen feels so much more than even in the original first draft of the pilot that I received where I think I had two scenes. David strung together a series of moments....it was so cool.

Strange little scenarios like with the pencil & the Styrofoam coffee cup. Its makes my heart rate increase to think about it. I have not seen a lot of my work. Never wanted to. Sometimes photographs from promotions of a particular job pop into my mind. But most of all I am left with the feeling I had when doing the actual scenes.

So when I think of that scene..... with the coffee cup....I just keep smiling because it was so much fun to make the woman with me so nervous. Forgive me because I cannot remember her name. But we had fun. I see in my minds eye all the goings on of the crew in the lodge, my Daddy's lodge. It was just a fun world, with the murder and all. And being a troublemaker...hehehe. My brothers always felt Audrey was very much the little sister they remember growing up.

I don't get to see David as much as I'd like to these days but when I think of him I smile deeply, into my soul. He is authentic, vulnerable and an artist in his life of seeing beauty in everything. He even sees the beauty in what most call darkness. But dark is just another form of light after all. It all comes from the source. He has soul based reasons for embracing and exploring deep in himself the dark corners and that was one of the most enriching life lessons for me in working with and getting to know him.

I've said it before, I will always be in love with him on a certain level. He made me believe that I was special. The last time I saw him, as I left with tears in my eyes, I hugged him and said thank you for believing in me when no one did. His reply embraced me as he always did from day one. He said,"Sherilyn, there's a lot to believe in!!!"

I love you DKL!!!

Continuing in the lodge....trotting off into see these Norwegians (but more motivated to fuck with her Daddy) bored somehow by life. Actually as I write I realize Audrey reminds me a little of another character I played. Curly's wife in Of Mice and Men. She was less of a victim but both of them posed a threat to the men around them because of their vulnerability and accessibility. Hmmmmmmm, that sounds film familiar.

Again it was a small moment that the grace of David made timeless. I was excited because I got to wear my own favorite pale pink cashmere vintage sweater. But my poor sweater took a beating and was forever changed by the experience much in the same way that I was.

So in this scene I was to go in curious. Browse over the smorgasbord set out for them, exhale sadly, a sort of damsel in distress. Knowing full well that my Daddy wanted them to know nothing of the murder. And once noticed, deliver the knockout punch.

Once I had their attention after another sad sigh I leaned against the wall. This is where my sweater saw its final moments. David had the wardrobe dept tie my sweater into a big, big, bigger knot behind my back. Tight, tight, tighter...hehehe. I couldn't have had my whole back flat on the wall if I wanted. But the effect was, well, effective. Need I say more.

This is the only line reading David ever gave me. As if I cared at all that it was one. I did not. One would be foolish to question his brilliance. I had two or three lines. I don't remember exactly but I know the last one was what he focused on. Not even the last line but the last word. He said stretch it out as long as you can. It went something like this.

The Norwegian head man:

"Pretty little girl is something wrong?"

Audrey Horne:

"They found my friend. (sniff,sniff) In the lake. (sniff) She'd been mmmuuuuuurrrrdddeeerrrreeeeddddd!"

Cut. Print. David loved it and that was good enough for me. Even if it did cost me my sweater.

Then there were the saddle shoes. From the get go David insisted I must have them. Audrey must have saddle shoes. Period. The end. Well, in Seattle for some reason this proved to be almost impossible. But he was relentless and eventually the wardrobe got a pair of white oxfords and painted the black on them.

My own custom shoes. Cool. I never got it really until we did my first shot and I came out of the lodge and hoped into my limousine. The first time I did it much too fast. David lovingly instructed me. He encouraged me to sashay out, hop in the car with my feet still out of the car on the ground, stay there a few beats, then swing them into the car and close the door. I think he even did a shot of my shoes, they got their own close up.

I just showed up and did as Dr. David told me to do. I knew I was clay in the hands of a master and all I could think was.....finally. Finally I get to work with a true artist. I hate to use that word as it is so overused especially in this bullshit business. But he is truly one. Did I say I love him????

There are so many more memories....snow on the ground.....much times spent with James......avoiding parties and Kyle a bit on the make.....I even had an emergency wisdom teeth removal during the filming. But that is all for now.

With eyes to see....

2010-05-11T10:15:00.000-07:00

Is it me or is the world and life SO much more difficult than its ever been. I felt sick at some of the weird responses to my last post and kind of went into hiding. I begin to question if this blog is smart to do....to put myself and my truth out there. You see, it is fragile. Like me. I am just a fragile and somewhat lost person bumping around a crazy world.

Then I miss having a place to share. When I hear others experiencing similar things, I feel a little less crazy. I remember that a lot of this is the sign of the times. I guess I am still contracted. I sit here and do not know what to write. It just does not feel as safe somehow. I am too sensitive. I need a thicker skin.

I will carry on nonetheless.......

I sometimes can step so deeply into the moment that it brings tears to my eyes. All the beauty that is here. All the beauty that the screaming hall of scholars in my mind (as I am fond of calling them) DROWN it out. But when this feeling the moment occurs, I feel so free. So thankful for everything. I can really see the trees, the flowers, feel the air, hear the sounds and reject nothing. The way life itself does this. It rejects nothing.

Why is man so arrogant? Why do we accept what we like and reject all else. Like chopping off the Dobermans tail and ears. Oh yes, it SO much better that way. WHAT? I had the horrible misfortune of taking my brothers dogs puppies to the vet to get their tails and their duke claws snipped off.

I unfortunately did not get out the door quick enough to avoid the agonizing squeals as they did the deed to one of those poor puppies. The sound haunts me to this day. It is my silence of the lambs.....

It was similar to my baby Christian James first birthday party. It was planned stupidly NOT in our home and was a disaster for too many reasons to go into. But as we left the house and were packing up our car to escape....... I could hear all the balloons we had ordered for the party being popped, killed, destroyed, again and again.

It SO brought back these moments of horror for me and confirmed that this was not the place to have had my boys party. I did not listen to my instincts. I try to do better with that now.

The instinctive/conscience voice is a quiet voice and usually the first thought that arises. Then the mind and the ego come charging in, hot on its trail and desperate to create a problem/drama that it can now solve.

It is quite a trip being a human....being. With all my years of searching, it is still hardest to turn knowledge into being. And silly of me most likely to feel there is something I can do to make this happen.

It seems in this moment in my life, everything leads back to the fact that I have zero control over anything. And I mean anything. That I never did and never will. That I am not breathing, I am being breathed.

It is so obvious when my heart does what it does with no help from me. All senses firing away with nothing to do with me. It is as I always come back to .....we are the miracle we are looking for.

Then why so sad and confused.....because for me this has not turned into being. But I have faith that it will. Life has not forgotten me or any of us. It will just never look the way that we think it should.

Its better.....but only with eyes to see.

I do completely believe the saying:

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

God bless.

Dear Diary....

2010-02-21T07:44:00.000-08:00

I have been on a self imposed sabbatical...from technology, from life in some ways. I often times feel the need to do this. It is not calculated or planned at all. It just happens. I must also admit that drinking wine and smoking pot play a part. It is like the rhythms of life, like the in and out of ones breath. Or the beating of the heart. The coming and going of the waves on the beach. There is an expansion followed by a contraction. This is a common theme in my life.

As I come out of this contracted state, I look back and try to understand what prompted it. A lot has transpired in the past months and especially got heated up around my birthday in extremes. I am thankful that I had the sense to warn my mother that there would be a Quatro backlash because of my ' Who cares if my aunt is Suzi Quatro blog." My poor mom was blasted for it, directly and covertly. Ridiculous really, I am a 45 year old woman. If they felt something, they could say it to me. And would be met with my truth, that I can and will share whether they like it or not.

This is yet another theme in my life....people NOT addressing their issues with me to me. Even when my brothers get mad at me they rarely tell me. They just call my mother to tell her I am crazy or whatever. I am not really sure what that is about. Why don't people just deal directly and go to the source? Why do they all go and vomit all over my mother??? It is odd and I do not get it. Sorry Mom that you are somehow always in the line fire, taking bullets intended for me.

I am sure part of this recent Quatro reaction has to do with the fact that my aunts are in process with getting music they recorded a hundred years ago out into the public. That they do not want anything "negative" to be floating around. [ As if their attitudes and attacks are not] It all seems to me to be born of the same 'famous' virus that infects the family. It is all so ass backwards..... based on facade.

I have learned so much from doing this blog. Especially from the comments and responses to it. After years of hiding and trying to be pretty, smart, famous...... I have never been more seen, heard and accepted. As I expose all my warts as honestly as I can. What an amazing verification. And how it flies in the faces of all that other bullshit. It is a sad when ones life is built with a house of cards. I build mine now brick by brick. I fear not the big bad wolf anymore, my house is almost complete.

Yet, the old order will fight as it is doing. It will fight to not be exposed. To keep its mask firmly in place. To hide all its ugly parts that are more human than the ones they elevate to mythical proportions. To legends.....in their own minds. I am not this. Just a girl/woman from Michigan doing the best I can. Sometimes failing miserably, sometimes not.

I believe I have a fear of real power. Not the overpowering in your face one...I am adept at that. But real power based on love.... and in truth. I feel that I was growing a lot before the contraction and got scared on some level. That is why I retreated in to mans land. There was no man or woman or connection in this land. Just days melting into days, weeks into weeks.

I struggle with ways to take a little bit of the edge off. I have been sober at different times in my life but not right now. I like to drink wine. And sometimes smoke pot. But it seems to me that the tail is wagging the dog. It does not help that I have almost chronic back pain from my injury on the set last year but it would be lying to act as if that if the problem.

The problem is much bigger than that. I am not even completely clear WHAT the problem is. I want to spell it out clearly but I realize that I cannot. I suppose a part of it is that I feel things really deeply and it can serve to buffer that. That I do not trust life and get scared when I never know what tomorrow holds. That I try to do too much all the time and sometimes do not know how to unwind.

All of these sound good, reasonable..... But accurate? I don't really know. Then I wonder why do I feel I need a reason. I hold this false belief that when I understand something then I can get beyond it. I realize it may not always be the case. And yet I will still walk down that path at times. Its one of the ways that I lie to myself.

Maybe the beauty is so full and complete that I don't know how to accept it. That it is so foreign to my life experience I fear it will not last and so I put layers between myself and it to shield myself. From the inevitable let down when it all goes pear shaped. When it is all I really want. I am self sabotaging a blissful state of being, a life I have always dreamed of.

I suppose this is another nonsensical rant. It is my way back to writing. I sometimes do not know what to write..... But write I must for it does fill me in a way that nothing else can.

Sending love and light out to the world...

A demon from my childhood still haunts me.in

2010-02-05T07:52:00.000-08:00

I dream...... I dream deeply and almost always remember my dreams. I interpret them myself. Not with a book. I feel we can more personally understand our dreams if we are willing to look into them honestly. The symbolism that my dreams show me is startling and poignant and last nights was no different. That is why I must get it out and write it. I am not sure that I am gonna share this..... I will just write it down for now.

Please keep in mind that obviously dreams can be quite fragmented. I will do my best to put the pieces together as cohesively as possible. But again, dreams just kind of jump around. Maybe I will just flow with the dream as it is , then break it down in another blog as I did with my Rachel/Vicky one.

The dream:

I must be pregnant in my dream because my mother is planning a baby shower for me. She has a cold attitude towards me as she does at this moment in my life [not the dream] because I got in a fight with her and unleashed some of my childhood anger onto her. In my dream, she has a friend with her, they say they are going to a movie.

My mother pulls out a tray of feminine bows, crowns, packages for the shower but says she has not planned when and where it will be. I suggest a place. She just has an attitude. As people start to arrive I realize that the party is today, here at our home and was meant to be a surprise. I feel funny because I am not ready, just in sweats or pajamas or something.

I see my brothers dressed up in ties. I ask them are they here for my baby shower. Yes, of course they say. It seems someone dangerous is arriving and my older brother wants to deal with it. So I tell him I will get my gun. As I go into an armoire to get it, now there are two guns. One is very small. The other a bigger hand gun that looks like something Dirty Harry used to carry. I know the small only has two bullets but the bigger one has 6 or eight and is automatic.

As I pull the guns out, a lot of people come to look. They are all intrigued and want to touch the guns. I do not let them. I hand the one to Leo and decide to find a hiding place for the other. As I look for it I see that my house it is in utter disarray. It seems to be under construction or something. I wonder why my family chose to have the party here when the house looked like this. Literally rooms were in the process of being rebuilt.

My third stepfather Gary Stewart, a messed up demon like man arrived at the party. I somehow got my guns back because I knew he was there for me. I knew that I was in danger. He has come to me in other dreams to haunt me and try to hurt me. In fact, he came a few nights before this dream as well. My shrink always says that when one has a dream like this, it is important in the dream that you are fighting. Not just a victim. I am proud to say that I have been fighting him like a formidable banshee in the past few!!!!!

There were two flights of stairs, as I went towards one he went towards the other to try to cut me off. But I was two steps ahead of him intellectually so I made noises as if I was going up them and came back down and quickly hid my two guns so he could not use them on me. I am not sure why I did not just shoot him then and there. It seemed that there was a little game of wits, of cat and mouse happening. I was somewhat surrounded by family, although at this point no one seemed to be coming to my rescue.

I often times would scream for my mother since this was HER significant relationship, hoping she would deal with it but she never came. Not surprising given my childhood. This was my experience time and time again.

When he realized I had duped him, he raced downstairs and actually complimented my moxie. He said that was really smart how I had tricked him that way. Then asked where the guns were. I said hidden from you. He looked around for them but to no avail.

Then Gary grabbed me and took me down stairs to the basement, where I had been relegated to much of my young life. It was like a "last meal" situation. Make no mistake, my life was in danger with this man and I knew it. With his crazy behavior I worried as a child as well.

At a certain point some people came to my rescue. They were supposed to be family of some sort but I did not recognize them. There were three of them and they were youngish men. They came with a bigger, older man who I hoped would stay with them. I knew they did not stand a chance againist Gary.

The older man told me to go. That they would take care of this. I knew they would literally be killed. It was like anyone that came around Hannibal Lecter. You knew it was all over. I just hoped I could survive as Clarice did. The older man came with me, more bad news for the others. Gary sat there calmly, with a sick smile. It was a game to him.

As we tried to climb the dilapidated stairs, all of the sudden had a baby in my arms. I was only looking ahead, plotting exactly what I needed to do next. I would grab the guns and get to my car, put the baby securely in and get away as quick as possible.

As soon as I got to the top and sprinted to escape, I could hear the chaos and death downstairs ensue. It was awful and I felt guilty. I did not know how to help them. I could only help myself and my baby now and get out as quick as possible. The house now seemed deserted. Even the older man behind me was becoming another causality, I could hear his cries too.

Somehow I got us successfully to my car and we took off. I knew this was not the end. It was weird because I woke up a few times in the middle of dreaming and would fall back out and pick up where I had left off. I believe there was such a break here.

Now I was in a kind of a park, on the run. The baby no longer with me. Someone gave me a horse to ride. And so I rode as fast as I could. I did not see Gary behind me at this point but I could feel his presence. I knew this was not over.

It all gets a bit blurry here but what I remember next is that I made my way back to my house. The one under construction. There were people there who I knew and who knew the battle I was in the midst of. I was talking to them. Armed and ready when Gary burst in the door.

This time he was on a horse with full white face and a sort of bizarre, tribal war paint. Very ominous and scary. He methodically got off his horse and came towards me to kill me. I pulled out my bigger gun and shot him a number of times in the chest. He fell to the ground.......

Only a moment of relief because then he got and said that I cannot kill him and pulled out a large sword. Now it really got surreal . I looked at him and said [with a few supporting people around me] no, you are not alive. You are dead. He became kind of translucent and I felt he did not have power over me anymore.... He would appear and disappear.....

Then we did something I had done in my recent inner child workshop. We all put our hands together and declared that we were not releasing all this negative stuff into the cosmos, threw our hands collectively up towards the heavens with a yelp.

WOW>>>>>>>>

And then I awoke......

I have been haunted by it. Trying to understand its meaning....more will be revealed.

Listen to your dreams...... They have great wisdom....

Happy Birthday to me...

2010-02-02T05:51:00.000-08:00

I want to share many things and am not sure where to begin. It has been an eventful couple of days to say the least. I guess instead of going into my brain and trying to figure it all out and make it all polished, I will just address each piece as it occurred. This is a sort of diary, ranting entry.

I turned 45 on Feb 1st. It is the first time I allowed there to be many celebrations around it. It was so wonderful as the polarity of life is. It ranged from experiencing feelings of intense hate from a very sad and sick individual who projected much of their unexamined anger onto me in an attempted character assignation. To the polar opposite of being exulted to a queen. Surrounded by many beloved women in my life [they actually gave me a crown albeit an Ariel one [The little mermaid].... and a beautiful Queen plaque from my king, Dylan. One of his many presents for me.

There were actually SO many absolutely beautiful expressions of love for me from my friends. It was a little overwhelming... Gorgeous necklaces, flowers, a framed picture of a family dear to me, a gorgeous silk blouse, an amazing jewelry necklace & earring set from my new found sis [this is a whole other blog], a cozy out of the bath robe, a flapper-like purse black w/ fringe. Even my beautiful 16 year old got me a darling Marilyn Monroe looking top. There were more, but I cannot remember as I write, forgive me sisters....

My man was the most generous. A heart felt statue for my altar of a man, woman and baby. It made me cry. Inspiring stones with meaningful words. My mentioned QUEEN plaque. And the coveted, special anniversary edition, black leather Kooba purse......wow....... I am now complete.....hehehe

Of course the real reason I am so complete is that the love that poured through those close to me was like nothing I have ever felt. I actually allowed myself to receive it for a change. And its like GOD sent these people to all be able to come in and love and support after the siege of darkness. In retrospect it all makes perfect sense now. And I am reminded again of what is important. Love.....

Life is filled with light and dark. Hot and cold. Good and bad. And many like to try to smash what they feel threatened by. But when one has faith in themselves and most importantly in GOD they cannot be hurt. If we just go with whatever life brings us, it is so much more peaceful than deciding how it should look and suffering because it does not. I work on this tenaciously. I just keep walking toward light.....that is my mantra.

It is so rare in my life that things have looked the way I wanted them to. They always look different. I grow from all my experiences, especially the bad ones. So I keep embracing what comes. I do not turn a blind eye, I walk into stuff. Ce moi" !!!! Because if I don't, I know it will not just go away. Too much being swept under the rug creates an amusement park of roller coaster like hills to have to navigate over. I love rides but not that kind.

So we ran the gamut of emotions. And thank GOD the poison, try as it may did not seep in. There is a piece of me that just watched with great pity. Seeing the obvious pain and self hate that had not a damn thing to do with me. SO some prayers were sent out. And I fly away like a bird as I have done so many times in my life.

After living 45 years on the planet, it makes for a lot of life experience. And I am no saint. But I am always able to see my 50 percent and have accountability for it. I am not responsible for the rest. "To err is human, to forgive....divine." Shakespeare. I am adept at both.

"I am may be as bad as the worst, but thank GOD I am as good as the best." W. Whitman.

It sums up the truth of my existence. With much continued work I now see, love and accept myself. Keep refining and not beating myself up for past mistakes. We all have them. Its called being human. But I have never and would never threaten anyone. And for this I see my heart shine through.

So I wonder what this 45th year will bring... I send love to all of you who read and support me.

More to come......

Follow my mans blog!!!

2010-01-31T13:32:00.000-08:00

I love this man, his words, his shares. He only just started, chck it out and enjoy.

Http://nextbesttime.wordpress.com

Sending love...

My quest...

2010-01-28T15:21:00.000-08:00

To discover who she is, a woman must descend into her own depths. She must leave the safe role of remaining a faithful daughter of the collectives around her and descend to her individual feeling values. It will be her task to experience her pain...the pain of her own unique feeling values calling to her, pressing to emerge.

To discover who she is, a woman must trust the place of darkness where she can meet her own deepest nature and give it voice...weaving the threads of her life into a fabric to be named and given...sharing it with the women around her as she comes to a true and certain sense of herself.

Quote from "Circle of stones. A woman's journey to herself." by, Judith Duerk

This book changes lives, I am rereading it again. It is my quest....

With Love

FEAR.... False Evidence Appearing Real

2010-01-23T08:46:00.000-08:00

So it seems that many of us, myself included are looking for miracles out in the world. For signs of some sort that we have not been left behind, that life or God or whatever has not forgotten us....that we matter. Maybe I am just speaking of my own personal experience but I do know many people who are also what I call seekers.

I cut my finger badly about a week ago. While cooking, slicing and dicing, I slit it open really deep. About an inch long. It bleed for a few days and needed a few band aids to protect it. That was on Tuesday night. It is now Saturday morning and although sore it is almost healed.

As I examined it this morning the glorious fact occurred to me again as it has in the past. Why am I looking outside for miracles when I AM a living miracle. I am in a body that literally heals itself. All by itself it knows what to do. I assist it with neosporin and band-aids but that is all I do. It knows just what to do...... It is a miracle.

I cannot tell my heart to beat. Or make the blood pump through my veins. Make my eyes see things or my ears hear. Much as I'd like to take credit it has nothing to do with me doing anything. I am being breathed by something far greater than the little me. By the life force itself, the Initiator....

This is not egotistical, it is a reality. We are all in these incredible bodies that heal themselves. OK, yes, not always. If a certain dis-ease comes in it may or may not heal. That is more God's business. And to deny we are all "dying" on some level is silly. That is NOT my point here.

My point is that I am often looking outside of myself for what exists pristine and untouched inside of myself. I am always assuming that I am not enough or am flawed, damaged goods, etc. And am coming to the realization that this is all a big lie. The great lie. One of the greatest lies of humanity frankly.

It causes so much distress, pain and harm these false beliefs I have carried around about myself for so many years. Creating self-fulfilling prophecies left and right to support my false beliefs. Unconsciously manifesting that which I fear the most and am trying to run away from. But wherever I run to, there I AM.

And so I am the proverbial hamster on a wheel. Going around and around, getting nowhere fast and absolutely exhausted in the process. I am thrilled to report that I believe I have finally, after 44 years on the planet, gotten OFF this wheel. From sheer exhaustion. From the immense pain it brings. From a desire to move on into a more joyful life for me and my family. I am off!!!!!

You may ask how? It is not so simple. I think much I have done has supported and led up to this moment. With some blessed angels along the way. I have been a seeker of truth my entire life. I have a gift of vision that has been squashed and was relegated to the basement early in my childhood. But it never died, it just went dormant for awhile. I have read and studied much about philosophy, studied conscious beings, and done more therapy then I care to admit.

All of this has added to it but is not really needed I believe in the times we are living in. It is a very special time and the forces of light are conspiring everywhere to wake people up if they have the eyes to see and the ears to hear. The signs are everywhere when you choose to see them. But we all have free will so one must choose to go on the path. And once you do it will pull you along at a rapid pace. It is as my friend calls it= Sign of the times.

For some this will not be their truth and that is okay too. There is no wrong just many different and beautiful expressions of the infinite. All of them have a place. It just happens that I write about mine and encourage others to find their own. Truth has many faces. All as perfect and beautiful as the next.

I did an incredible workshop last weekend. It is a method to discover, uncover and recover that child that exists in me. In everyone really. It has changed so much in my life. I cannot yet articulate all that occurred and continues to. But it is my path to report on my life and so in this moment I am trying to do just that.

It was confirmed yet again that all that goes on as a baby in the womb up until 7 years old sets up and defines who one is in their life. For most of us there was much pain and disillusionment. There was a taking on of family lineages of stuff. And especially taking on the parents stuff. We are these ripe soils as children and so many seeds get planted. Mostly not such good ones. Again, that is my experience and that of the peeps in my life. That is all I ever speak about and to.

Recovering my child and seeing and feeling and discharging her pain has been cathartic. To hear her, to mourn her pain, to declare to never let her be hurt again.....I am forever changed. Rachel and Vicky have quieted and are happier that their job has lots of time off now. I put my little girl in a beautiful new pink and purple dress, she is free and happy again. I love her deeply.

She wants to dance and sing. And she is so powerful she does not care if she gets judged. She will fly high. I swam the reservoir of her grief with her and am on the shore now. We rest, we love, we prepare for a future unlike our past. I invite you to rediscover your truth, your child, your gold. We all have this alive and well inside of us. Don't become heavy and dense and let the societal tribe drag you into its collective sleep anymore.

Lets fly..........

Rumi says it clearest.

2010-01-13T07:39:00.000-08:00

"Each interprets my notes in harmony with his own feelings. But not one fathoms the secrets of my heart."

A nonsensical rant

2010-01-08T13:46:00.000-08:00

I am not sure what I am gonna write about. But something is telling me to do so, and I listen when this happens. Most of the time I know but not now. My 45th birthday is in a few weeks. It is on Feb 1st. It seems so strange. I do not wish to be any younger, except when I get tired chasing my 2 year old. And yet, it is just a number. One that does not seem to fit.

I sometimes still feel like a kid. The same old me. Scared, scarred and unlovable. I still get shy around strangers. I still want to be liked , loved etc. I once saw a really funny cartoon that made me laugh because it is so me. It has become a running joke between me and my dear friend Joan.

It was a little girl. Not one that I have ever seen before, not a famous character at all. In fact I have not seen it since so maybe it was manifest just for me. Some white magic. Anyway, she is bouncing around saying,"Do you like me??? Do you love me ???? Do you think I'm pretty??? Do you wanna be my friend???"

Being pretty was very important to my mother. She got her tapes from her father I am told. I remember rushing home from grade school one day, thrilled to tell her my great accomplishment! I had taken what I felt HAD to be a really pretty school picture! I had my pretty red and white checkered jacket on. It had a dark blue checkered fluff of fabric coming out of the front pocket. It was smart looking to me.

The only bad part was that it itched immensely. But I had heard from my mother that beauty is pain. So I put a t-shirt under it to minimize the polyester itch on my skin. I'd be pretty if it killed me.

I furiously brushed my hair with my fingers before the fateful moment in the girls bathroom. Borrowed my best friends Bonnie Bell strawberry because it added a little red to the lips. My mother fancied herself a hairdresser at this point and had become the addicted to giving everyone in our neighborhood the newest hairstyle. The "shag." Which was disastrous for my thick and course hair. If you have forgotten.... "I have naturally curly hair!" So it seemed to bend and curl in ALL the wrong places.

I had been practicing my smile for weeks. I must admit before I went to get my last license picture, I practiced in the mirror. Sad, huh? Anyway, I was certain that I had it down. Ready for my first good school picture. Up until this moment I always had unattractive school pictures, but not this time. I was certain it would be stellar.

So,predictably it was not. In fact it was the worst one to date. I can still see it in minds eye. I would share it but I believe I destroyed all copies. My big goofy smile, with my teeth that were too big for my small head at the time. My hair curling every which way, desperate to fit into the newest trend. But failing miserably. And the ever present shoulders up to my ears. A thing that would often manifest as I tried desperately to please.

I was a very late blossomer. I was not popular or pretty or any of those things that society brain washes little girls to think that they need to be. It was all about the blond haired, blue eyed girl with straight hair. The one my mother had died her to be. The one that I would later dye my hair to be. Barbie, I suppose. Boring Barbie. Boring Big Boobed Barbie.

I was at my brothers house a few months ago for his daughters, Haley's 4th birthday. She got some new Barbie dolls among many other toys. Have you seen them lately? Apparently Ken became a plastic surgeon and is plumping up Barbies lips at an alarming rate. It seems the new odd species of women that seem to be inhabiting our planet now have become the prototype for Barbie. It is frightening really.

I really want a baby girl, but for now am glad that I don't have one when I see shit like that. Someone once said to me that if I had a girl first, I would have been too hard on her. I agree. Especially if I saw her walking down the funky path young girls are going down these days. I am glad I grew up in Michigan.

I also despise this 40 is the new 30 saying. Lets break it down, shall we? So, 30 is the new 20. And 20 is the new 10??!!!!! And 10 the new infant??!!! It is fucking stupid. Why can't people be grateful just where they are? What does age matter anyway? Or hair color? Or height? Or weight? That's a big one. Even I worry about it.....ugh.

We waste so much time trying to find ourselves looking in all the wrong places. At all the wrong things. I for one have never been able to find myself in a mirror. In fact, a certain point I lost myself there. At a time when the world, or my world was focused on that. What a bore.

Well, I suppose this is just a nonsensical rant. But it is my nonsensical rant.

So what if my aunt is Suzi Quatro!!!

2010-01-07T07:06:00.000-08:00

I grew up in Michigan . Traveling back and forth between my mother's various husbands and my grandparents house. We at times had to throw our clothes into garbage bags and move on. It was awful.... creating to this day my inability to say a simple goodbye to someone without feeling great overwhelming sadness in my heart. That peppered with abandonment issues and the fear that ALL men leave. Actually that women leave too, being that was a pattern of my mother. Basically summing it up, I felt and feel at times that I am not worthy of love. Woe is me.

My grandparents door was always open to my mothers gypsy ways. And my two older brothers and I spent a lot of our childhood there. My grandpa was Italian. My grandma, Hungarian. She called their relationship the marriage of garlic and paprika. It was a loud and passionate household. And in truth, extremely vain.

My grandpa was a designer/engineer for General Motors by day, and a ham bone musician by night. There were many nights for my grandma left alone in 'her chair' watching tv. His chair was empty, shadowing the outline of his body in the cushions. It made me sad for her. I wondered if all relationships looked like this. I'd hop in his chair and keep her company. Paint her short little nails on hands that look just like my own. Help in whatever ways I could. But a child could never fill that hole, try as they may.

My grandma and I were very similar. We were both sort of not wanted and spent much time together. She even took me to my very first day of kindergarten. I remember standing there grasping her left leg, not wanting to go into the class. What if she left like everyone else and never came back. How could I live without her???

Even after all those days of she and I walking my two older brothers to the corner on their way to school, waving goodbye to them, tears streaming down my little face. Wondering and imagining what great adventures must lie ahead for them at this thing called school. I thought I could not wait for my day, for my turn.

Yet now, with it here in front of me all I could do was to cry. I did not want to go. I did not want to leave my grandma, my rock in the stormy sea of my life. I peeked around her leg and saw through my tears the dreaded destination. It was a big classroom with all different stations of seeming fun set up but it mattered not. I stood outside with her, looking in through the two large glass doors. I have for so long in my life done this. Stood outside looking at the seeming fun but dare not enter it. This was where it all started.

As the teacher approached us, used to these moments of hysterical 4 year olds, she tried to offer assistance. Bad move, it made me scream even more. Nnnooooo Grandma nnnooooooo. My grandma brushed the teacher off and she gently loosened my grip. Looked deeply into my red bloodshot eyes with her matching blue ones..... She wiped my running nose on her dress, kissed my forehead . She then reminded me that it was only a half a day. That she would be back in a few hours and would take me to Saunders for a strawberry ice cream soda. And then we would hit the JCPenney for a matching Grrranimals outfit. My favorite. Shopping appealed to me even then.

For those who don't know.... JCPenney had a line back in the day of kids clothing. They had these different colored animals [Grrranimals] and when you matched the tags, the outfits matched. So you would learn WHILE you shopped. It gave me a great sense of independence. I could pick out my own stuff. And of course at times, I would mismatch the animals for a funky look and sensibility that I still keep today. I am so NOT a fashionista. I like what I like and fuck it. There are many timeless pieces in my closet. I will not be put in a box. Except literally. hehehe

The ice cream soda and shopping softened the blow and I finally let go of grandmas now turning purple leg, her knee high was down around her ankel. So I rubbed the rest of my tears away trying to regain some dignity as I walked in, put my chin up, a few layers of cover on my heart and walked into yet another situation of my early life that I did not want to be in.

I had learned early on that so many things would occur in my life that I had no control over. And ones that I promised myself not to repeat on my own kids. I've been pretty good about it too. But this was a long way from that moment. A child's first day of school is usually traumatic. I think...well, we can only know our own experience and often mistake it for everyone elses.

I never had any conscious desire to be an actress. Or a musician as my grandfather encouraged in all of his kids and grand kids. The first time it occurred to me was around my aunt Suzi. She seemed to be so loved by the family. Always talked about. Always praised to the moon. But I hardly knew her, she was always gone and was an enigma. A complete stranger.

I personally didn't get it. I mean, her music was just okay to me. I was only a kid. I was told how successful she was in Europe. Well, who cares I thought. I was a 10 year old in America. That was all I really knew about the world. And it was not lost to me young as I was that music and a band was what took my own mother from me as a 2 year old. Broke apart my parents. So of course it would leave a bad taste in my mouth.

At a certain point all the family was ablaze with the fact that Suzi was to be on Happy Days, even I was excited . That was a great show, one of my favorites. Now she had some credibility to me!!! Now I thought she was cool. However it did not last very long.

So the episodes came and went. We all gathered in my grandparents living room. Many of us, friends, family, the neighbors, the milkman.... Frankly it was hard to hear the show over all the LOUD Italians and my grandpas roaring and praise over whatever she said and did. There was no modesty here. There never was with this crew. For me the show was a little disappointing. Again, I thought well, she was ok. Not the earth shaking response the Quatros seemed to have.Then again, it was always this response in regards to Suzi. Thank God I am a Fenn, I thought.

When later down the timeline we moved into a new neighborhood again my mother had an alarming suggestion. When I got home from yet another day of excruciating embarrassment of eating alone at lunch in a new school with no friends yet. Being the "new girl" again. My mother said in all her bizarre wisdom..."Well, did you tell them WHO your aunt is??? "

I almost died. Did she just really say that. Is she fucking crazy. Well that had already been proven, I suppose. Okay, maybe not crazy but certainly lost. I replied,"Why??? SO THEY'LL LIKE ME???" My voice dripping sarcasm for such a ludicrous idea. It was just to redunkulous!!!!! It sums up the mind set of the Quatro's . Now don't get me wrong, I love them. They are my family. But I also SEE them. And don't feel the need to make excuses. It simply is what it is. And it was NOT me. I seemed even then to be cut of a different clothe. A far more humble one.

When Suzi finally made a long anticipated trip to her home town to actually see her family it was quite an event. You'd have thought the Pope himself was coming to grace us with his presence. Every corner of the house was scrubbed, all people of interest were alerted even sickeningly enough, THE PRESS!!!! Because you see, my grandpa could use this as a way to get HIS name out there more and this might increase his music business in addition to his ego, so he could spend even more time leaving grandma at home in her chair lonely and sad.

It is not a wonder that she died later of cancer. In her stomach. The size of a football was removed. She used to joke it was her alien. But it was filled with sadness and resentment, I feel. When she went in for surgery I was in the midst of my Twin Peaks fame. As we said goodbye to her as she was rolled into the operation, even she felt it was important to share a piece of vital information. Drugged and cotton mouthed she told the nurse, "Dats my gwandaughter, Sherri. Ow mightwrecognize ur, shes on Pin Tweaks." It seems she had the bug too.

Before my appendix was removed a few years ago, I cried to the doctor who was putting me under... You have to be careful and take care of me. I have to wake up. I am a MOTHER!!! I have a son who needs me. Hmmmmm. Just cut from a different clothe.

So with all the pomp and pageantry of Suzi arriving I floated around in the shadows. I never seemed less important. But Suzi's husband Lenny was kind and good to me. He seemed to be unimpressed by it all and could actually SEE the kids. My brothers and my cousins and I. He played with us and said really funny things. My aunt just seemed to only talk about herself and was perfectly happy with everyone talking about her too.

Another really odd thing was that Suzi now spoke with an English accent? Huh?!!! She had not even been in London that long and it seemed to me so weird and affected. She was able to drop it for her Happy Days episode but here with her birth family, it flourished. Most people when they go to their hometown fall back to talking like them. But not Suzi. She seemed to be desperate to be different than us, better than, so sophisticated and English. Some might have bought it but I did not.

One day I walked into the bedroom she was staying in and my breathe was taken away. She had the prettiest clothes I had ever seen. Thick, lush corduroys in every color imaginable that looked and felt like velvet. Size zero it looked like. And all kinds of snakeskin boots. and beautiful leather jackets. Gorgeous jewelry. None the likes had I ever seen in Michigan. Grrranimals fell out of grace in my eyes in that moment. I did not want to be a grown woman someday shopping at JCPenney, I thought.

These clothes became the representation of Europe for me. Now I wanted to go there and buy some. And hey, maybe this fame thing was cool because look at all the pretty things you can buy and wear. And look how everyone seems to listen to her, even when she is arrogant and speaking a lot of nonsense. There always was a rapt audience around her. I had never experienced that in my entire life. I thought naively that maybe that was what love looked like.

I believe that event with those various factors planted a seed to become "famous." Even as I first started acting, my 17 year old head would just think ....it'd be fun to be famous. It was not until much later that I would discover the gift of acting from my beloved Roy London.

One thing I knew was that I never wanted to be on stage, live, dancing and singing. That takes a kind of vanity the likes of which I have never possessed. To this day I get nervous when there are too many people on the set. And almost NEVER see my own work. YUCK. Who can watch themselves, esp on film and see your face as big as your body actually is, your voice blasting through speakers. It is a form of torture, for me. I am too subjective. When I was forced to go to premiers, I would sneak out as quick as I could.

So I suppose you can take the girl out of Michigan but you cannot take Michigan out of the girl. At least not this girl. I am what I am. And I like what I am. I have changed very little over the years. But I have gotten wiser. I learn everyday more and more of who I am and it is often from the reflection of others and me being clear about who I am NOT.

Never forget your little self . It is your truth. It is your gold. Love it and it will love you back.

To Thine Own Self Be True. Fuck the masks.....

Nietzsche"s wisdom on Raging Rachel and Vicious Vicky

2010-01-04T20:32:00.000-08:00

The great epochs of life come when we gain the courage to re-christen our evil as what is best in us.

A special kind of ugly.

2009-12-28T20:00:00.000-08:00

Before I did Twin Peaks, I filmed a Roger Corman movie in Lima, Peru. It was called Crime Zone, and it was a futuristic, post-apocalyptic action love story. The lead character's names were Bone [absurd, I know] and Helen. Which was my grandmothers name. I must admit that it was forgettable and remains so to this day. Even for me. I cannot remember what it was about or what drew me to it. Maybe I was just not getting the roles I wanted and this was post Two Moon Junction so anything was better than that. But the experience of shooting however,was very memorable and has a story to tell.

The only notable person in the film was David Carradine. He would be there for the shortest amount of time. In and out, filming his scenes as quick as possible. The first time they made me up in my Madonna look, short platinum blond hair, bustier and all, he simply looked at me and uttered from his perpetual drunken stupor ," Now that's gilding the lily."

I do remember that my character, Helen was strong. She was not taking shit from anyone. She was a whore of course, its Hollywood after all. And she got to dance which was a lot of fun. The production embraced me and my super short blond hair and in return, I embraced them. After a meeting with the Latino director, I was offered the role. But there would be a price to pay. There always was.

This was only my second trip to a third world country. It was difficult, and I was sick the entire time I was down there. It is impossible to avoid the water, try as you may. I have many memories of being hunched down in a ball holding my aching belly. The one sentence I learned which was essential to my trip there was,"Donde esta bano?" For those who don't know : this simply means where is the bathroom.

Then there was the director, who married as he was, still pursued me with a vengeance. It is a delicate line to walk with a Latino man, the director, in HIS country, me being maybe 21ish and trying to get through a difficult shoot. He was married to a really sweet and beautiful young woman. We even had a friendship of sorts. This, of course meant little to nothing in his eyes. She was a prize he had won and now he was on the hunt to conquer me . I am sure I was not the first he pursued, nor the last.

As is always the case, there was a few beautiful people working on the film. I refer to them as bright lights, angels there to help in whatever ways they could. One was my make up artist. I cannot remember her name but she was so kind, like a Momma or a Grandma. I will refer to her from now on as my angel. She had short blond hair like my own. But I was only a third of her age. I will never forget her. She would call me her,"Ninnita, poquitta, chicka- ditta." And demonstrate with her hands that I was a little, young one.... And I was.

She loved me and cared for me with language barrier fully in tact. We communicated with our eyes and our hands. We loved each other and felt oddly related. I can see her face in my mind's eye.... I could tell when she was inevitably having a bad day and would help however I could. And she did the same for me when things got tough on the set. But she was an older woman in an old school Latino man's world. So the help she could give was limited for her. But she helped in the best way possible, she comforted me and loved me and walked through everything I did like an angel at my side. Expressing and reflecting it all in her blue eyes.

Making this movie was guerrilla filmaking at its finest. So redunkulous. Trying to be futuristic, post apocalyptic with no money in Peru was hysterical at times and tragic at others. It was a comedy of errors.

As I continued to put the director off, he became more frustrated and resentful. One day he took me out to get an ice cream under the guise of talking about the film, then expressed his frustration to me. I was at the time madly in love with my first, Johnny. I was NOT on the market in any way. I had developed a friendship with one of the actors (I shall refer to him as M.S.) who was a "bad guy" in the film. Not the love interest. I went to him at times for advice around this situation. We had actually bonded and become friends, or so I thought.

One night in the bar that had become our home away from home, M.S. and i were hanging out. What with no tv and a front door to the hotel that was firmly bolted closed with a thick lead bar after 9 pm, this was the place to connect with others. It was a resturant/bar. The steak entrecote saved my ass the entire time we were there. It was a steak covered with about 40 cloves of garlic and I ate it with a vengenance hoping the garlic would kill all the parasites that seemed to be invading my body at an alarming pace.

In addition to the food and drink the bar offered some interesting entertainment. There was a nightly show that proved to be quite the spectacle to behold while it lasted. D.Carradine and his wife, Antoinette set up camp in the bar 24/7. They drank like fish and this was their aquarium. Antoinette, literally danced half dressed on the tables. Enough alcohol consumed it was always the same. The shoes would come off and it was on. Always encouraging all that would listen to join them in yet another round. Gilded lily or not, we were all invited. If they were sick during their stint in Lima it could only have been alcohol poison. Nothing else could live under those conditions I believe.

On one fateful night my hanging out with M.S turned into an argument. My intuition was rearing its head again and I with no tact was on it. He was obsessed with becoming a star. And I felt he might not make it. [Which, by the by, he did not] So as he went on and on, I said ...Well what if you don't become a star. What will you do? What else interests you? I will be, he demanded. But I kept pushing and it went on and on and on. Stalemate.

Even given this disagreement the evening did not end bad. We had built a friendship where we shared truth with one another. It was just a feeling that I had and I was trying to get him to look at other options. Few aspiring actors actually do make it. I was not trying to hurt him but get him to expand his vision, young as I was. He was a bit older than I, maybe in his early 30's. I can't be sure because he hid his age like most in Hollywood do. With the exception of moi. I am 44 and will be 45 on Feb 1.

By now, my rejection of the directors endless come-ons had made him angry. A deep, seething anger from a man that usually got what he wanted especially in his own country. But I was different. I'm Ammeerriikin!!! So he decided to write a new scene for the film. A scene where my friend M.S. basically attacks me. He had observed that M.S. and I had become close and was jealous of that as well.

The scene was awful and unnecessary. M.S. basically sticks his hand up my short skirt and then at a later point in the abuse tries to choke me. I immediately saw what the director was doing. I was young but not stupid. He wanted to see me hurt. He and his ego were transparent but only to me. I was playing Helen and she was tough so I put on my mask and went for it. I would not let him get to me.

M.S. saw this as a big opportunity for him. A big scene to show his stuff. He assumed that it was written because he was doing so well in his role that the producers wanted more of him in the film. His sad and desperate desire was misleading him again. Led astray as he was, he took advantage of his moment completely. The director was wise enough to have seen his desperate need to be a star and that combined with our budding friendship fueled with his crushed ego. He proceeded to exploit and blow apart whatever had been built in the past month. And now had a partner in crime.

The scene felt like a rape of sorts. As many have over the years. The director did take after take after take, enjoying my pain. Physical and emotional as it was. An actor must never hurt another actor. Here in fucking Lima, Peru [as I had grown fond of calling it] all of this unwritten etiquette was gone out the window. It was a surreal experience that I just kept willing myself to get through. I remember seeing my angel arguing with the director but not knowing why.... This actor, if you can call him that was desperate. He hurt me in a number of different ways that night on the set. In the name of a career that never would be.

When we finally finished the scene, I ran out of the nasty warehouse we were shooting in. I will never forget it. My angel tried to stop me with tears in her eyes..... I motioned that I needed some space. She hovered from afar, standing guard to the best of her abilities. I ran out of the building and as far as I could get. I have often bolted I realize and run as far and as fast as I can. As if I can escape the ugliness I am a part of.

Exhausted, I kind of squatted down in the weeds that were at least 2 feet tall. I cried and cried but then I looked at the blue black sky with the moon shining brightly. A peace fell over me. There was a defining silence, a loud hummmmm. I felt connected to God. I had survived, I thought. They can hurt me and my body but they cannot ever hurt or touch my soul. I will heal and just fly away like a bird. I will fly away....

I do not like to look in mirrors on the set. So when I got back to my room i was astonished as i went to take a shower and wash all the ugliness off of my body that I had bruises up and down my neck. This motherfucker had been bruising me. And he could not be doing the scene over and over and not SEE what he was doing to me. Now I understood more of what my angel had been speaking aggressively about to the director. I was livid. I called M.S. and told him what a pathetic schmuck he was. It was incredible to me what lengths one would go to for fame.

The rest of the shoot was not so connected emotionally. I showed up, professional as always and got out as quick as possible. M.S. had been revealed for who he really was. Just full of B.S. My beloved man, my first love eternally Johnny, showed up and we got engaged. He came immediately when I shared the hell I had been through. I flew away with my soul intact. I flew jut like I knew I could....

I had learned firsthand how ugly that kind of desperate need for fame was. I knew I did not have that inside of me. Nor would I ever. I was not sure at that point why I was acting or if I even wanted to keep doing it. That was a special kind of ugly. One that I never wanted to grow inside of me. And it never did.

R.Rachel and V.Vicky deconstructed.

2009-12-22T19:06:00.001-08:00

It is essential that before reading this blog you have read 2 others. First: " I have rage." Then : "Introducing Raging Rachel and Vicious Vicky." In this blog, I will attempt to show how these parts of me informed [ sometimes subtly sometimes NOT so subtly] the "I have rage" blog. To illustrate for you and for me the insidious nature of their brilliance. By analyzing and exposing it, I hope to chip away at not being held hostage by these two anymore. And possibly give them the love that they are ultimately seeking. Because I believe that love is really ALL there is.

Form here on in:

The original blog shall remain in black.

Rachel's voice will be written about and comment on in this red.

Vicky's voice will be written about and commented on in this green.

Back to purple to sum it all up.

And away we go......

I am feeling rage right now. I am infuriated by peoples sleep and lack of need to be honest. People who walk through life with their mask firmly in place. Maybe I am SO mad because I did it for so long. I don't know . It ALWAYS has to do with us I feel. But I do know that it threatens to rip apart SO much in my life.

Here Rachel proudly introduces herself with part of her name RAGING Rachel. Proud of her name, her calling card. Judging of others, she is simply superior and all are beneath her. False humility that MAYBE she did it but only MAYBE. There always is an accusation to all the lame "others" that do this and are below her. It threatens to rip her life apart and is her threat, and her intention.

I am no good at saying things tactfully. But I am working on it. I call it as I see it, and as you have heard me say, I get in big trouble for that. And yet, I do not give a shit . I want to be with peeps who get me and who speak their truth as well. They do not have to agree with me. In fact it's better when they do not for I can learn from another perspective. But they must have the courage to say what's up. Truthfully.

This is Vicky. She is the wiser of the two. Less obvious and more covert. They say with twins in the womb, the stronger and smarter one pushes the other out first to get a lay of the land, check to see if its safe. This is she. Here she feigns honesty. She fluctuates between seeing herself and saying she is right and will continue just as she has in the past. She enlists others to do as she does. Tempts others, are you at MY level?! She acts as if she wants others to disagree with her but will take you down when you do. And ends with the most distorted word of all....truthfully.

I seriously would rather be alone than deal with bullshit small talk, jokes and lies. For me, peeps come together to share TRUTH not false bravado. I am bored by the human condition and no longer am claiming it as my own.

More Vicky here again. Elitist and better than all. Again with the T word. Setting herself outside of the human condition. That takes a special kind of ego.

I step OUT of the tribe and that condition. In fact, I RUN out of it. I would rather be alone with my truth then surrounded by masses in their collective sleep. Their collective fear. Their masks. Their collective bullshit. I am declaring that I am officially over it all. I say this to the universe and all who care to listen.

Now she is picking up steam in her self-righteousness. And isolating into being alone just the way she likes it with nobody to question her dogmatic thinking. Their this and their that. Such judgement, I am great she seems to scream. I am above it all. She is obviously really scared and frightened that she is none of these things. True power does not behave this way. It does not need to. It, like the statues of Christ, bows his head in humility of his power. [just a reference, don't freak]

I am fueled by the support I have gotten from having the courage to actually put my truth out there. This is a part of each and everyone of you. And has been reflected in my shares. Not "blogs" but shares. I am here only to illuminate MY human struggle in hopes that a) I can be clearer and that b) you can be touched and inspired to declare your own.

Vicky, Vicky, icky Vicky. Self important, self righteous, selfish and self involved. Its all about me. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Her sheep has also been consumed by this wolf. The lamb represents the soul. The wolf the instinctive, animalistic body. The lamb and the wolf must learn to lay together.

Nobody is better than or more important a person than ANYONE else!! And celebrity does not mean shit. I know this to be true. I hope you do too. Sending love and light out in a crazy time here on this planet and in this lifetime.

Well, I have learned a few things. That Vicky is far more prevalent and in charge than Rachel. That Rachel's bark is worse than her bite. That the brilliance and danger resides more in the vicious part that is so smart. Like a lawyer she twists things to suit her. She enlists others to do the same. And the word "truth" is always peppering her fights.

And yet, I am not certain this is all true. It seems to be evolving. Maybe Vicky is the weaker of the two. I guess I don't really know. Maybe they dance between the two. There seems to be some biblical references that came out of me. Oh well, they just did. If they offend, so be it. Rachel or Vicky.

I wonder where these voices come from. A person in my life from my past? Or just born to protect me? I feel as a child I was never heard, so once I was big enough to be heard I may have developed these two sisters. I also feel now as I walk through this process that [as a wise reader of my blog shared] maybe they do not need to be killed. As Rachel suggested. But to be loved and tamed.

I do not know how to do that for now. I take it all one day at a time. I try to not be as reactive, that is certain. I believe there is a collective body of fear and negativity that once I go that far into, makes it even harder to get out of.

So this self analysis done, I go into my day. Hopefully all the more wise, or at least a little bit more wise. And with more compassion.....for me and all the characters that inhabit me.

Introducing Raging Rachel and Vicious Vicky

2009-12-22T16:05:00.000-08:00

So through my never ending self inquiry I have recently discovered that I have two evil twins that live inside of my head. I have named them Raging Rachel and Vicious Vicky. They are just what their names say they are. You don't ever want to meet them, I promise you that. I think they may have had a hand in writing my last blog, "I have rage."

At the moment they are hurling insults at me that I dare even write this for the world to read. "As if the world reads YOUR blog," they shout. But one of my dearest friends and teachers Roy London taught me that I must grab my demons & monsters by the head and pull them out of the cave to get a good look at them. He said doing that will diminish their power. And so I shall.

I believe that it is essential to learn ones truth and to share it BUT not to bludgeon people with it as I do sometimes. This word is very potent for me : bludgeon as I first read it used in a book about a the serial killer, Ted Bundy. He was the stereotype, a typical somewhat good looking white man who had taken it to the street.

During one of his horrific killing sprees after he had already killed one person ( that not having been enough to fill his hole) he fled with the blood of one victim still on his hands to some college girls apt, grabbed what he could find, a piece of firewood and "bludgeoned" two more to death.

Over the years of my life Rachel and Vicky have reared their ugly heads up too many times to count, hurt too many people and got me in awful situations in the name of the truth. That is you see part of their brilliance. They say....well its the truth. Like J. Nicholson,"You cant handle the truth!!!" They snarl and spit like mad dogs with self righteous arrogance.

A part of me hides when they come out. I am actually afraid of them too. When they thought I would fail at something, they have suggested different ways to hurt myself to avoid things. Thank God I did not listen. At least in this moment I cannot think of a time I did. And yet because I allowed the attacks to place, I guess I did listen. Ugh. "Shame on you!" My grandma would say if she were still alive.

You see for a long time now, I thought this was strength. What a load of shit. Another lie I was telling to myself. It is true weakness to attack anyone at anytime with your own unexamined and misplaced rage. I am over it. I will no longer allow Rachel and Vicky to weave their tangled webs. I need an exorcism. Know any good shamans?

It is dark nights of the soul when one sees themselves truly. Or maybe that is just my experience. I am not a bad person but I can be quite hurtful when they take over. They come out when I feel hurt or threatened. They say the meanest things imaginable. I often get attacked by them as I am right now. Nobody wants to show the ugly parts of themselves but I defer to my teacher because he has never led me astray.

They have appointed themselves to stand guard over my heart and never let anyone get too close. Only my kids are really close to me. And my Dylan has gotten closer than anyone but at a great price. We are meant to be transformational in each others lives. And that we are. But I have hurt him so. I wonder why he is still here. And thank GOD everyday.

The twins work hard at having a self fulfilling prophecy: That I am not lovable, that all men leave, that I am worthless. They have come a breath away from bringing this to fruition. Now they are being exposed. I had done so well for awhile, then last night they came out in full force. I find them to be stronger, darker and at their worse as I consume wine. I have chosen to stop that. Its like a dark energy comes with it.

I feel that the world has great light coming in right now. But that makes us be able to see more of the dark. Huge polarities exist and for me I must be so cautious. And conscious. And connected to the light and my truth. The true truth, not the one the twins preach. The one centered on love and compassion.

If only one could just set down their baggage from childhood. Like returning from a trip, walking up the driveway, into your front door and just putting down the suitcase. The relief of it. The feeling of lightness one feels. I long for it and am actively working to do just that. This has been 44 yrs of this shit.

It seems I have been fighting for so long in my life. I keep waiting for the chapter where it all gets really good. But happiness only comes in moments for me. Rachel and Vicky are too threatened by real joy and happiness.

They know that now that they are exposed, they will die. I am killing them. Putting them to sleep like an old dog that is sick and it is at the point where it is the only humane thing left to do.

So this is their swan song. What was born to protect a child from fucked situations ,now is at war with me the grown woman and happiness in my life. They will not win. They are old and are being put down. I will not miss them for unlike a dog, they were never friends even to me. They are my worst enemies.

I am sure some may read this and feel I am really fucked up. Emotionally unstable. And sometimes I am, like you aren't?!!! hehehe What I am is a living, breathing woman who is looking at herself and working hard to transform into the woman I have always wanted to be. A woman who lives NOT from her head but from her heart.

I have rage....

2009-12-21T18:23:00.001-08:00

I am no good at saying things tactfully. But I am working on it. I call it as I see it, and as you have heard me say, I get in big trouble for that. And yet, I do not give a shit . I want to be with peeps who get me and who speak their truth as well. They do not have to agree with me. In fact its better when they do not for I can learn from another perspective. But they must have the courage to say whats up. Truthfully.

I am fueled by the support I have gotten from having the courage to actually put my truth out there. This is a part of each and everyone of you. And has been reflected in my shares. Not "blogs" but shares. I am here only to illuminate MY human struggle in hopes that a. I can be clearer and that b. you can be touched and inspired to declare your own.

The job that changed my life

2009-12-05T09:30:00.000-08:00

When I was about 22 or 23 I believe.... I had been kicking around in Hollywoodland for a few years. Getting a few roles here and there. Sometimes being exploited and feeling quite disillusioned. I just wasn't passionate about the work yet. I had not met the teacher that would change my relationship to acting and ultimately my life. The late, great Roy London. Or gotten the job that would do the same. Giving me the opportunity to swim in the greatness and brilliance of others. That was about to change.

It was about this time that I had met a manager who said a some things that had a profound effect on me. In all honesty she was pursuing me because of my ex boyfriend Johnny . I believe she hoped to connect with him. She did not know the status of our relations, that we were no longer together and I did not tell her. It was OK because in the process of her working the angle, I got valuable, desperately needed input. Some tangible tools that would help to the trajectory of my career.

I was at that point so desperate to be liked and to be loved and to be seen. ugh, yes, still. I would go to auditions and when the casting directors would ask the perfunctory,"Do you have any questions about the character?" A question that they NEVER want you to answer with anything other than NO. I would answer with,"Well, how do you see her?" Naively hopeful that if I could fulfill their vision I might get the job and get the validation I seemed to constantly need.

This is disastrous for an actor. You see, the key to great acting I was later to discover is to illuminate the human struggle. YOUR human struggle. YOUR life. YOUR direct experience. No ones imagination is as interesting as the plain truth. To look at something about your life that you are actually dealing with in that time. Not some bullshit past, dog that died in childhood thing. Not that I am knocking The Method, but I am.

It was relevant when it came into being, which was the 1950's. But we are ,as a world and a society a far cry from that . Back then it was remarkable for a man to show emotion at all. Now people, sometimes complete strangers give us more information about their personal life than we ever want to know. With the exploitation of lives and emotional unrest everywhere on supposed reality tv.

So there I was, desperate to please and be liked and most of all....get the job. The results...not so great. I got harsh feedback at times. One heartbreaking one I remember was that I lacked depth and intensity. Or a common one, that I was too green. Funny because now one cannot not be too green. I wonder what they say to the newbies now.

It hurt me deeply yet I also knew a lot of their criticism was correct. And I simply did not have the tools to actually change it. This is where the manager came into play. She had invited me to her annual Christmas party. I got all dressed to the nines and showed up. Scared..... and more than likely I slipped in and out of my shy/mute state as there were celebrities everywhere. I was Johnnyless which I am sure did not make the manager happy.

I can only remember Willem Dafoe being there. I liked him and his work. But I felt nervous because he had done Platoon with Johnny. At a certain point during the filming while they were in the Philippines I had broken up in what was essentially a dear john letter. Literally and figuratively. Only to come back together once he returned.

I had just felt abandoned by him. He was my first love and for him to go and be gone for 2 months was more than my lack of maturity could tolerate. So what that he wrote me and sent pictures from the film with my name written across his helmet. Still, I wanted to hurt him and I had. I always intended to be with him when he returned. Upon his return we immediately holed up in a hotel close to the airport and came back together.

So Willem Dafoe represented a difficult time in my life and every time I looked at him, I felt it. I don't even think he noticed me. I believe the wonderful Andy Garcia was there as well. But I cannot be certain. I stayed for a bit, drank some vino and then escaped.

Escape is an apropos word because I have never been a social creature. I isolate, that is just me. I don't like bullshit and small talk. I still avoid really social situations. Unless it is with like minded people and we can have real conversation. This is limiting and I am trying to look at it a different way. I am trying to look between the lines, share whatever and know sometimes that is enough. I don't have to have poignant conversation all the time. And I am learning to laugh again and have fun.

A few days later, I was summoned to the managers office for a meeting. Maybe she wanted to rep me? I was excited with the ever present nerves of a young Michigan girl who was completely out of here element. I never in a million years would have thought that I would be an actress when I was a young person. Never. I did not choose it, it chose me.

She did not want to rep me, not yet. She said what a lot of people in her position are fond of saying." You are a project away from us working together." Which is shorthand for, there is too much work to do with you at your current state and once you are discovered, I'll jump on the bandwagon because I have not an original belief in my head. Sorry, but that is how I see it. Most Hollywoodlanders need those creative few show them whats up. Then, when it is sufficiently safe, they jump on board with false bravado and bullshit stories of how they knew and believed in you way back when.

Thank god I was soon to meet one such director but the managers words would help to make this connection stick. She said that she had been observing me at her party. That it was obvious that I was trying to be a "good girl." To be "liked." That I was putting on a mask basically. She shared that the good directors want to work with the actors who" know who they are authentically and show up that way. "

In others words, if I am shy, that is how I should show up. If I am a bitch or rude by nature, don't curb it. If I am a jokey kind of girl or an airhead without affectation but in my essence , that is how I must show up.

WOW. She had given me permission to just be me. That I was actually enough. It blew my mind. I was still so young and was not sure who I was. Moving around so much as a young girl, I was constantly changing myself to fit into a new social group at a new school. Old catholic money one year, new Jewish community the next. It was mind boggling and that combined with my very young childhood [another blog all unto itself] added to a loss of my identity.

So I did some soul searching. And I realized that when I first met people, I was shy. That was at least one truth I could grasp. That I and been entering auditions all positive and happy and bright. Regardless of what I was feeling. It was all so false. No wonder I was often rejected. That and the fact that as an aspiring actress you receive mostly rejection. Its the nature of the beast.

The other thing I did was not share my truth about what I had read. I would act like I liked the script even if I did not. There could be no real communication about the project unless I showed up honestly. Easier said then done. This one would be a tricky line to walk. But what I was doing was not working.

I digested this new information for a bit but in a short amount of time I would put it to the test. I was called excitedly by my agent. I had a meeting with an amazing filmmaker who was doing a tv series. David Lynch. Now I was not too familiar with his work, but I had seen the unforgettable and incredibly disturbing Blue Velvet. My agent encouraged me to rent The Elephant Man and I did.

I was touched so deeply to the very core of my being by this film. It was so different in tone from Blue Velvet. This man was a great director. My god. What a heartbreaking film. How much truth and depth..... I will never forget it and although it is absolutely difficult to watch at times, it is one of my favorite films.

I love most films like this. They resonate with me. Moments so personal , so painful they are actually hard to watch. They pierce ones soul. Like in Truly, Madly, Deeply when she is sobbing so hard you begin to as well. Like being at a birth of child and you find yourself bearing down and pushing as the mother to be does so. Another film I adore is Who's afraid of Virginia Wolfe.

Having played Elizabeth Taylor and vigilantly searching for the woman and not the legend/icon. I personally found this to be the role that came closest to revealing the woman. Not to mention the intense dynamic that existed between she and Richard Burton. Especially in the later days. That and some candid, unrehearsed footage of her were the keys for me. And I love her to this day.

While I watched David's second film, the script was being sent to me. I usually had to go get my scripts, they were not being delivered....yet. But since it was Sir David Lynch, they made an exception. After the emotional film, I am sure I most likely put on a pot of chicken soup, a constant in my life even today, I sat and awaited the arrival of the holy grail. It was not at that point called Twin Peaks. It was something with northern in it, but I cannot remember it. Maybe Northwest passage?!

I had not to date met a truly great director. Not one. I was scared. All that the manager had said was running through my mind. I started to contemplate what I might wear. But quickly realized I needed to read the script first. I was told it would not be a reading, just a meeting. That was not how this unique man worked. He would simply have meetings and in talking to you would decide if and where you fit into the beautiful world he was creating.

As I read the script I must admit that I did not find it so incredible. It was no Elephant Man. My agent kept referencing Peyton Place but this meant nothing to this young person. It read like a soap opera. Hence the reference but Blue Velvet meets Peyton Place. That was the one line pitch. I challenge anyone to have read it , in and of itself and guessed what it turned into. I inexperienced as I was could not see it. But was excited nonetheless. Be the magical hand of David Lynch would be touching it.

So there were the three options of roles for me as far as I could tell. The dead girl, Laura Palmer. The sweet girl who always cried, Donna Hayward. Or the sexy waitress who was being abused by her mean husband, Shelley. Sorry, I cannot remember her last name. [A tweetybird reminded me its Shelley Johnson. Thank you] Although in my life I was most like Donna, I did not think I could carry a show the way she had to. Let alone cry scene after scene. I would more than likely be seen as Shelley.

You see, there was NO AUDREY HORNE at this point. Sad but true. But ultimately not so sad as it turned out, right!!!!!

I remember sitting in the waiting room at Propaganda Films. My heart pounding out of my chest. Looking around at a few other girls no doubt experiencing the same emotions. Remembering what the manager said. Just be yourself. Just be yourself, was my mantra. Then my name was called. ldgutikehgsvrjmthnjbhvgfdsguritoyuiytyrtefwgshdjfmgnbvcdh!!!!!

The head shot they had was me in a black turtleneck with very short platinum blond hair. Very overexposed and artsy. It was why David brought me in. My hair had since been dyed to it dark color again. David immediately spoke of that. In fact, he did most the talking because I was being as I am in my life....shy. How I had to fight every impulse to be chipper and all this other stuff I had pretended to be in auditions and my young life up until now. And if forced him to talk more than he was accustomed to.

He said the picture reminded him of his daughter with the blond hair and all . A woman would I would come to know, love and work on one of my most intense jobs with. Boxing Helena. She is simply brilliant. Of course I am speaking of Jennifer Lynch. Again, this is another blog altogether. But did you know that Jen wrote the book of Laura Palmer's diary that came out while the show aired?! A little trivia.

David was kind and funny. Not at all what I expected. He was quirky but in an innocent way. I thought he'd be dark but he was not. Only the recesses of his mind were. Who's are not. And he had the courage to look at it. Through his work. The best description I have ever heard of him was Jimmy Stewart from Mars. That is the perfect one, to me.

Then he asked if I liked the script. Uh-oh!!!!!! The moment of truth. So far, I was true to me. Would I share my perspective? Could I??? It was nothing less than a character defining moment. A turning point in my life. The beginning of telling the truth. I said there, a huge lump in my throat, I felt like I couldn't breathe. He stared at me with a slight smile, prompting.....

I finally said.... well..... yea..... I thought it was ok...... He just looked at me. Not upset but wanting to hear more of my inexperienced perspective. And....... it seems like everyone is sleeping with everyone else. He smiled and seemed to appreciated my honesty. We finished and I left. Relieved to be finished and prayerful that it went well.

I got home to find an urgent message on my answering machine. My agent. Call asap. I was told that although it seemed that David was not offended, the casting director was outraged. She said I should've been more positive and tried to talk more and have more energy. It was devastating. Maybe that stupid fucking manager was wrong. Clearly she was and I blew a huge opportunity in the process.

I don't remember how long it was before I got the next call. But I do remember feeling lost and depressed. Wondering if I should even do this stupid Hollywood thing. Pulled out chicken soup again and isolated .

But the magic call came. One of the few I can count on one hand in this business that I will not ever forget. It seemed that the casting person was wrong. So wrong. That David loved me, wanted me on the show and was actually WRITING a role for me!!!!!!!! WHAT???!!!!!

I remember where I was standing as I got that call. I freaked out. I played it cool on the phone, mocking the casting directors earlier criticism. Hung up and lost it!!!! Jumping, screaming, laughing and crying. So much so that my crazy neighbor knocked on my door to check that I was ok. She then joined me in my celebratory dance and busted into some praise God's.

That David Lynch saw something in me that no one really had, save my dear agent of many years, was astounding to me. I am forever indebted to him. And frankly, I kind fell a little in love with him. As a patient does with a doctor that saves her and nurses her back to health.

It seemed for the moment, I had been saved.

The mask continues to come off. A rant.

2009-12-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

So last night I made the mistake of taking in some judgemental comments about the fact that I am sharing my DIRECT experience with PRN. It was frankly the first negative feedback I have gotten. Although oddly enough the reader kept reading and felt the need to leave four posts, two on two different blogs.

That it upset me so much simply speaks to a habit which is not great of mine. To dismiss the good that is said or seen in me and masturbate with the bad. Keep in mind, it was the only person who wrote ugly things. So I thank the person who shared because I got to see another part of myself to work on.

I promised myself I would not read comments for this very reason and am contemplating not reading anymore. But that would give them and my false beliefs about myself too much power. I will simply continue as I did with the one in question and gladly DELETE these judgements. Because, you see, this is MY blog and I share on it MY truth. And last time I checked I live in America where I am allowed to do so.

What I have shared so far has not disparaging in any way. So I put out my disclaimer to all who visit this site that I did in my very first blog. I say that if what I write is a problem for you, simply do not read. I will continue to share my truth about PRN and the many other subjects that I have addressed with unwavering honesty. If you do not have something nice to say don't.

I would share that in my experience, one should take their laser like analysis of others and put it on themselves. I experience in my life that people do so much projection of their own issues onto others. I once heard and never forgot: The bigger the reaction, the more personal the material. A good thing to keep in mind.

I also feel it is a time on the planet where we are all needing to look at and deal with our own personal stuff. You know, the stuff conscious and unconscious that informs everything we say and do. The stuff we avoid or where a mask to pretend it does not exist.... I feel it is wise to get clean and clear. I am fond of saying that we can do it with willingness and grace, or be pulled along kicking and screaming. But make no mistake, it is the sign of times and the current will pull you, like it or not. You make a choice of how that will look.

To put my focus on myself regarding my reaction to the ugly words...... I have always had insight and been beat up for stating it. I am the one screaming that the emperor is naked and speaking to the pink elephant in the room. It would never be my intention to hurt anyone. And I do not feel I have in this instance. Nor will I hurt myself by not honoring my truth and my desire to share it. I believe it is a uniting force. It is how I worked as an actress but I had to weave my truth between the lines of another. Now, I am discovering the courage to just say my truth with my own words and will not be silenced by judgmental and fearful people.

So to close, if you take issue with my words or story, it is very simple.....don't read it. And for all those who have read, followed and got it. I am eternally grateful to you all. You are assisting me forging a new path. One that is headed towards light. So thank you, thank you, thank you.

With much love and light.

sherilyn

Princeland cont

2009-11-29T08:06:00.000-08:00

OK, here we go back to Princeland. This is a story that will have many installments as it was a long relationship and I am trying to find a way to tell it....the best and most honest way that I can do so....

Driving to the recording studio I had stopped channeling Helen Keller and was back to my chatty and somewhat loud self. We girls from Michigan tend to be that way. Just plain LOUD!!!

So as I was zipping along through the Los Angeles streets in my little cream corvette [baby your much too fast!] I was feeling like I was living a dream. A rather loud one at that...

The night was crisp and seemed so bright although it was the wee hours of the morning. The streets we pretty empty but I was full. Full of excitement and desire and amazement. The moon glowed and the stars twinkled. Or maybe it was just the shine coming off my new found friend.

My mind was racing with millions of thoughts.... I wondered what would happen next. I wondered why he wanted us to come with him.Why us??? Why not the masses who approached him at the bar??? I was after all just a young, inexperienced and unsophisticated girl from Michigan. Yes, just a girl, not even a woman yet. Not even close. Growing up in middle America allows one to grow up more slowly than in L.A. And I had only been here a few months. My head kept spinning trying to figure it all out.

There must be something I was missing, I thought. We are following this man to the recording studio? Not stalking like the crazed fans that we were, no, we were invited??!!! I surmised from my eternally boring lack of self worth place that PRN must be into my friend Judy. A beautiful, statuesque mil ado woman with exotic features to match no other. Yes, she was my brothers girlfriend but they were not exclusive. I have to admit she was cool but there was the eternal haze of Valium around her which I found unattractive. But most did not notice, they just thought she was really mellow. It was the 80's after all and most people were high on something.

I am fond of using peoples initials. PRN stands for Prince Rogers Nelson. Yes, it is his birth name. His father was a musician, a funny, funky and at times volatile man. Purple Rain is quite autobiographical and was meant to be about he and Vanity. Replaced by the awful [my opinion] Apollonia. Even though the name comes from Godfather II where Micheal Corleone goes to Sicily and marries a young woman who gets blown up in a car shortly there after, to me she was still, just, Yuck. Also the film contains the ever present added ingredient of Hollywood "based on a true story" bullshit.

To be with PRN in his environment is to enter a kingdom like no other. From the inside of the limo to the decor of his Minneapolis home. Or a temporarily inhabited hotel room to a recording studio. His unique mark permeates all time and space. All 5 senses are engaged. There are gorgeous colors, pillows, silks, feathers. Candles everywhere day or night, a habit I cannot shake myself. Incredible smells of perfume, incense and beauty. In this place,yes, beauty actually has a smell. Dark, warm and inviting colors. And, of course, the funky back beat from the very soul of the man.

We took the right off of Sunset on Cherokee and an immediate left into a private, gated parking lot that Chick motioned for us to follow them into. As I shakily parked, a feeling it took awhile for me to conquer being around him, PRN waited patiently. He immediately shared that he had been here recording for days . Sometimes he'd record all night and come back right after a brief nap or a trip to a local club for inspiration as was the case tonight. This was what I affectionately came to call Princetime. And it was odd hours.

I recently heard that Micheal Jackson would keep similar hours. And was said to believe that when God gave him a song if he didn't write it down immediately, God would give it to PRN. I believe that it is the other way around actually. But I guess I am biased. Chris Rock has a funny rif about this. He said that in the 80's everyone would fight about who was cooler, PRN or MJ. Well, guess what, he says.... Prince won!!!!! I agree completely. RIP-MJ.

It was an old red brick building where many high level musicians came to record over the years. We went through a series of locked, gated doors to get to the entrance of an outdoor corridor that had 4 or 5 different door leading to separate recording studios. This area had a few benches and a basketball net that PRN would frequent . He loved basketball and once confided that he played in school until everyone kept growing taller than he so he had to stop much to his dismay. To release some energy, or just have a break he'd go out there and play. Like any guy, right?

Only what he was taking a break from was a kind of genius that is rare. One that I was soon to observe firsthand. He taught himself to play every instrument as a young teenager. At this point he was recording for his next album. Or maybe it was for The Time, one of the many bands he created. He also has an unlimited vocal range. Who knows if this devotion and drive came from the disappointment of having to quit basketball or the pain in his life at home or just the deep human need to be creative and connect with people.....I don't know. But I was deeply moved by it all.

As we entered his particular studio, the first one on the left, his music filled the room. He would over the years use the same studio, a creature of habit like myself. The technician had been hard at work editing the track they had been focused on to PRN's specifications. He was a perfectionist as you might have guessed, clear and clean. He did not indulge in drugs at all and barely drank. Only a little Remy Martin sometimes.

It was in this moment that I first glimpsed the professional musician who demanded the same of others as he did himself. The techie had NOT listened to what he had been told to do and was instantly corrected and put back on task. PRN knew what he wanted it to sound like and did not want this techie's input. Not offensively, just TRUE to his vision. An example for me of a commitment to his voice/his truth and a work ethic that influenced the rest of my life. He simply did not need to be liked by this man. It was an amazing level of self respect.

Of course, I had gone mute, again. But it never seemed to bother him. Like he could see a me inside that I had not even discovered myself. Years later he would say to me....."I would put you in a movie and make you a star, but I am having too much fun watching you do it all by yourself." I guess he watched me blossom in a lot of ways into a woman and a professional one at that. As I write, I am discovering what a deep effect he had on me on all of these levels. I am excited to continue to realize more.

Are you?????

The technician back on track, it was time to add the drums to the track of guitar PRN had recorded before meeting us at the bar. He sat and played, I watched...... It was not a complex beat but just right. He never seems to feel the need to over do it. It is so interesting to watch and hear a song come together. To feel the pieces fitting and complimenting each other.

The drums complete, it did not take long it was on to the next piece. They had a few cokes bottles with different amounts of liquid in them and he tapped them with silverware for the next track. It was simply amazing. It sounded so great. In remembering, it was for a song for The Time. Listen to "Cool" and you will hear it. It is immediately recognizable if you know what to listen for.

This went on a few hours what with recording and editing and all. Much to my frustration Judy was going down and wanted to go home to bed. I could've stayed all night but in my muted state, I just shrugged and followed her lead. So we said our farewells and left. Was it disappointment I was seeing on his face? I could not tell. He did not seem to resist or try to encourage us to stay.

I felt sick to my stomach. I was certain this was the only time I'd ever see this magical man again in my life. It made me sad. I walked as slowly as I could to the car ignoring the complaints of Judy and her withdrawal shakes in the cool air. We climbed in my car and I went to back up when Chick appeared at my window and knocked.

"Prince wants to know if he can call you, Sherri?" Uhhhhh, of course. I stammered and fumbled for something to write on. I was all thumbs and nothing about me was cool. Thank God Chick had all bases covered. He smiled amused at my behavior, no doubt he'd witnessed it before in countless others. And he handed me a pen and paper. Uhhhhh, [next problem] I almost could not remember my phone number but at least my voice had returned.... Although now my brain was MIA. Uhhhhh...... Then Judy came out of her haze and saved me. She gave my number and we were off into the night. In my little cream corvette.

We sang together blasting my now declared theme song. "Little red corvette, baby your much to fast, yes you are." The sky starting to wake up with gorgeous shades of orange and red. I loud and proud from Michigan. Judy a little hazy but fueled by the fact that she'd be home soon so her Valium supply could be refreshed.

Many adventures to follow......before and during..... when in a year or so I met my very first true love and very first long term 3 1/2 year committed relationship with "The world's sexiest man" according to People mag. To me, he was just my Johnny and we were just two young people from small towns with stars in our eyes and dreams of becoming actors. We met through our agency and were cast in an AFI film.......directed by Laurie Frank. She is fond of saying,"There is casting. And then there is DIVINE casting."

But that is another story.....

Blah, blah, blah

2009-11-25T05:34:00.000-08:00

It is still dark outside. I have been awake since 4am. I reworked some of my Prince blog. I will need to do that more often, there were a lot of dumb mistakes. Sorry. I am worried, I am a worrier. I know this is not a real word but I don't care. Its all so redunkulous. Capice, redunkulous? My absolute favorite new word. This is a kind of meaningless rant, you may anat to move on to a different blog.... Your choice, but don't say that I didn't warn you.

I do not know what the next days, months, years of my life hold. I know that I never really knew anyway, it just felt more comfortable thinking I did. I don't know that I want to act again after all these years of doing it. I certainly will only do it on my terms. In other words, I will only commit if I really love the role and the people involved. Feel an honest level of commitment and integrity in the project. It seems reasonable but trust me that in Hollywood, it is rare.

I want to write in a professional capacity but have no idea if it is possible. Or what form that might take. I always thought that my ideal man-partner would be a writer. That is me, always looking outside for the answers that can only be found inside. Now I think that the writer-partner I have been looking for is me.

After running from me for so many years this is a somewhat startling realization. Am I really all I have been seeking all this time. Like the proverbial running on a hamster wheel? It seems to simple. And quite anti climatic. I guess I should've made that right turn at Albuquerque.

I thought of writing a tell all book. To finance then directing a few documentary ideas that have been close to my heart. Or maybe a tell some. Some people would be mad or hurt, I am certain. It is not what would stop me though. I say my truth, I can't help myself. I frankly have no idea what it is that stops me right now.

Maybe that I am a full time mother right now of a 15 and a 2 year old. That I am taking care of them and juggling a confusing relationship. Sometimes love is not enough. Sad but true. I have no idea whatsoever if this relationship will work out. I am tired of working. It seems I work at everything. I wait for the chapter of my life when things get easier, lighter, with less work. It never comes.

Prince: A magical, mystery ride.

2009-11-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

I was 18 and had moved here, fresh out of Michigan for only a few months when we met. Coming from the home of Motown I was a lover of Prince ...anything and everything he did. What a carpet I would cut to his funky beats in my bedroom. How many nightclubs I had snuck into and as they spun only a few notes of his unique music I would be up, screaming and running to the dance floor. He was the prince, my prince ...I would fantasize. I thought he was so beautiful, so sexy, so well, soooooooo! I did not dream of Leif Garrett or whoever the teen mags showed, I dreamed of Prince. He was my Prince Charming.

I went with my oldest brother Leo, also a huge fan [Sorry but Micheal who????] to see his Controversy show while we were still living in Michigan. Vanity 6 played first, then The Time, then the man of the hour. It was fantastic. All music penned by my Prince, I was in awe and in love. I watched him running around backstage and playing with the gorgeous Vanity. They looked like a perfect couple, their kids would've been scary beautiful for sure. Thankfully for me, it never went that far. But back then, as just another fan behind the railing, what did I know.

So now, in the city of Lost Angels I was. Just another angel among the masses and as lost as the next..... still sneaking into nightclubs and being a crazy 18 year old. One night me and my brothers girlfriend Judy went to dance at Carlos and Charlies. It was on the infamous Sunset Blvd and was an exclusive nightclub above a restaurant. Dressed beyond my 18 years in my hot 80's garb, a white leather mini and matching motorcycle jacket. Camisole, inspired by Vanity 6, a look Madonna would later steal as her own as she stole MANY things from my Prince. And short sexy silver and white boots. It was on, crouton. Dancing, drinking, and gasping as I looked over and saw my Prince walk in the door. I almost died and am certain I cried.

He was small, my size, not the giant from the concert I remembered. He had on colorful clothes and high heeled boots which did little to increase his physical stature. He was still a god to me. As pretty as I thought he'd be. Maybe prettier. And oh, so sexy. The club parted like the red sea as he made his way to a great table right next to the dance floor where he could partake of a favorite habit of his. Watching people dance, sometimes getting up himself. Seeing what the pulse of the crowd was in terms of what music they were listening too.

The DJ would of course begin spinning as many of his records as he could get away with. Not realizing that it irritated Prince a bit because to him all of his current music on the radio is very old now. He has written so much new music since then and does not even like the old stuff anymore. He is prolific. Has 100 times mores music that anybody has or will ever hear. Some is simply for his own enjoyment. But he did enjoy when the people danced to it with enthusiasm, which was partly fueled by the fact that he was sitting right there.

Some of the women were simply embarrassing themselves, bumping and grinding frenetically, desperate for a glance from him. He is a somewhat shy man and that was just a turn off. "Act your age, baby, not your shoe size & maybe we can do the town!" He would almost always say no thanks when people came and asked him to dance. Drunk, overt, slutty girls on drugs did not interest him in the slightest. This was after all part of the research for his artistry.

There was no entourage, just a huge bodyguard with long white hair and a mustache. He looked like he was in a motorcycle gang, threatening. A part of Hell's Angel's in the city of Lost Angels. I would later get to know his name was Chick. He was a gentle giant but took care of the business of keeping the prince safe at all costs. Lets face it, drunk fans can be a bit daunting. In a word...R-U-N !!!!

Judy and I watched him from the background for awhile. Truth be told, I could not take my eyes off of him. Then Judy, bold as she was with the ever present valium in her bloodstream wanted to go ask him to come sit with us. Oh my god....no!!! He won't. Are you crazy I asked her!!! Why would he??? He has turned down WHATEVER the numerous girls that had approached him asked. God no!!! Just leave it Judy. My night had been made just laying my eyes upon him..... But Judy would not take no for an answer and literally dragged me over to him.

As we stood in front of him ,Chick arose the ever vigilant protector of the crown. I froze. Deer caught in the headlights. Heart pounding out of my chest. I had never been this close to a star, let alone THE star. The star of my secret love and fantasies..... She said simply,"Do you want to come sit with us?" It seemed an eternity before he answered. The pulse of the music unable to beat the rate of my heart. My mouth turned dry as sandpaper. Standing there, ugh, what should I do with my hands. A selfconcious thought I often had when first started doing film work as an actress. I nudged Judy, lets just go I indicated. He looked me up and down, then Judy.......Then stood up and said,"OK." And followed us to our humble table.

I think I barely spoke three words but I danced with he and Judy. Then with just him. He had golden eyes that were playful and mischieveous. He would watch me as I moved around him to the beat. I thought I was Vanity, I rocked. I shimmied and shook and felt so alive. I had so much fun. Sure I had gone mute but I still had fun. That ever illusive fun I seem to have lost the ability to have now as a 44 year old woman.

He was also very smart and funny when he did speak over the blaringly loud music. He was wise and flippant and would tell jokes. He had this low kind of husky sexy voice. Not high pitched like a woman's as I would later experience MJ to have when I met him with Prince. He was simply cool. Either you are or you aren't and he was. Still is. "I'm so cool...ow.ow.ow. Ain't nobody bad like me!"

The crazy part came a little bit later when he asked if we wanted to come to the recording studio with him. Jesus, what was happening. This was not, could not be real. Of course we took the invitation floating on cloud 9, hoped in my little cream corvette and off went following he and Chick in his limo.

This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship/relationship that would span the next decade of my life...

to be continued...... hehehe....if you like??!!!

FUN I say. [Recently revised 11/24]

2009-11-18T11:31:00.000-08:00

A few months ago my man of 3 years and the father of our 2 year old called to declare that we were gonna have a date that evening. And we were gonna have FUN!!! Even if it kills us, I thought but dared not say it. You see, our relationship has moved at warp speed and been quite tumultuous. So to do this after a week of fighting, of potential break ups, of all of it......it was not easy for me to jump on board wholeheartedly.

As he came home and we gathered our stuff there was a strained feeling in the air. He kept laughing uncharacteristically loud. It felt forced, determined as he was to have that fun he spoke of. He is a passive kind of person. And has a tendency to people please and leave his truth on the doorstep. He is NOT this guy in front of me right now. I almost feel shy around him in this current incarnation. Who is this man???

I start to wonder.....do I really know him at all? Does he know me? Let alone like me? Sometimes it seems like he does not. And if we are both still discovering who we are, what if we find out that we don't fit..... Stop it I thought. So I pulled myself out of this introspection to get on with our date of "fun".

We arrived at the restaurant after some small talk on my part and a lot of boisterous laughing on his. It was still unclear to me who he was....

"Where would you like to sit? Inside or out?" Uh-oh. A potentially un-fun moment in the date. It was still very hot outside and where I knew it will get cool soon, it had not yet. I hate the heat. I am a Michigan girl at heart. So, I know he wants to be outside so I relent. Or more honestly, I lie. But he knows me better than I give credit and makes an executive decision to eat inside instead. Smart move, I am beginning to recognize him now.

I have a deep fear. One of many actually. I fear that I do not know HOW to have fun anymore. Maybe that is why I felt a shyness then. That and I have a tendency to go mute in the face of bullshit. How can we be denying the extreme things we have been talking about and dealing with lately??!!! Fun, fun, fun.

An interesting moment shifted the tone when our waitress first came over to us. Tall and pretty with a head full of messily pinned up ringlets everywhere. She was thin like an ostrich. After she introduced herself she exclaimed,"We are short one busboy so we are all running around but its gonna be FUN!" We laughed. Maybe honestly for the first time that evening. It seemed some unseen force was helping us after all.

So we ate.....oysters, clam chowder, crab cakes and spinach salad. We shared our meal, as always. I have no memory of what we spoke of during our meal but I am sure it was light. An avoidance of any of the real issues that were on the table, so to speak. We had a plan and we were sticking to it. The wine loosened me up at bit. I was not sure of anything in my life in that moment. I was scared and scarred. And most of all....too old to feel this way.

As we walked into a bowling alley, there was the sound of crashing pins, laughing, talking and cheering. With all this activity I realized I missed this. I used to go bowling with my brothers and our father. I excitedly give my shoe size anticipating a pair of cute bowling shoes. I like them, always have.

The man hands me a pair, shiny, clean and surprising not stinky. I feel like a child. Why would clean bowling shoes produce such joy in me? Dark blue and deep burgundy with bold white pipping. Mmmmmmmmmmmm.... Like I was trying a new pair of Manolos...... I savor the moment. They fit perfect and make my feet look small even after having gained a shoe size after schlepping two babies in my body over the past 16 years.

Shoes in place, it is time to move on to the next ritual bowling experience. The choosing of a ball. I try many, first I go for the colors I like. A girl through and through. But of course the ones I am drawn to are Too heavy. With my recent injury I realize I must go with the lightest ball they have. A mere 6 lbs and this cuts down my color choices significantly. Bummer. But I manage to find a bright orange one. I am now drawn to orange as I realized it is the color of the Tibetan monks, a powerful color.

As I tested my swing with it I was flooded with memories of what my father taught me about the key to bowling.

Keep your wrist straight. That's all. Just always keep it straight with follow through. I did a few practice swings and was ready to go. No Laverne and Shirley episode here. I used to get a lot of gutter balls until that golden key was given to me.

These were unfortunately the kind of keys my parents gave to me. No wonder I am such a mess. Ones that really did not matter much unless [in this case] I was in a bowling alley. These crumbs meant the world to me though. Another memory of the bowling experience came as my brothers and I fought to write our own names on the score keeping screen. My family has always called me Sherri. But up until then, I spelled it Sheri. Well, my father corrected me. He said I was named Sheryl, but would always be called Sherri. With two R's. Sheryl for the catholic, appropriate version though. Like Christopher to be called Chris.

He said this with such passion and conviction, I would never forget it. Or maybe it was that he was focused on me at all created the moment of importance that really did not exist. Perception.

This bowling is an event for me. You see,I stand on the outskirts of life. I rarely go into the city to party, to connect. My fear freezes me. To "stand" is to be more active than a "couch potato."

I remember this picture of me as a 3 year old girl. My dress is so short, too short. I am clearly in need of some new, larger sized clothes. Neglect. My white maryjanes are beaten to a pulp.....

I was directed by my grandfather to,"Stand up straight !!!" So there I am, arms pinned to my sides. My legs tightly pulled together. So much tension that my shoulders are almost up to my ears. I am standing as straight as physically possible. Desperate to please. To be seen as a good girl. A lovable girl. As a pretty girl. Pretty is important to this family. Boys should be strong and unemotional and girls....pretty.

Another crumb bestowed upon me by my never present mother was that I had "naturally curly hair!" This crumb of attention became my calling. I would tell anyone who would listen this piece of wisdom my mother had bestowed upon me. I would run up to complete strangers on the playground:

"My mommy says I have naturally curly hair," I would pridefully exclaim and then run off to continue to play.

It seems in retrospect I was screaming I AM IMPORTANT!!! I have something special. Look at me . Watch me. SEE ME. Because I felt invisible. A little person that nobody wanted to take care of. So the crumb became my own little feasts. And during my feasts, I had FUN. Or did I?

All the ritualistic choices made, it was now time to put my fathers wisdom to work. Would I just throw a bunch of gutters? would I score some strikes? I hoped for the best but anticipated the worst. Kind of mirrors the patterns of my own thought processes. And that of my life. I suppose we all have a variety ups and downs. Good scores and some, not so much. Is everything connected or is this just the way my brain works.

Well, it turned out I owe my father a big thanks. I did really well. No gutters and a few strikes and spares. Hey, it seems it is a new day. No more gutters of life. I am going for the strikes. And as insignificant as the feasts of my crumbs seemed, they gave me something to hold onto where there was very little. And something is better than nothing.

I hope I will find out.

What the fuck too so long???!!!

2009-11-17T10:46:00.000-08:00

Wow...... I promised myself that I would not read comments but after waiting so long to actually write again, I did. A secret self sabotage, I thought people would mirror my lack of worth, dodgy uneducated writing skills, you name it..... only to be shocked to the point of tears. So I sit hear, tears drying, Wall-e playing for my "what can i fuck with next", angel 2 year old boy. Yes, yes I know, a contradiction. I seem to be a walking one. I need to thank you who have shared these kind words with me. It is astounding to me that complete strangers seem to actually care and sometimes have kinder words than those close to me. It shows me that we are all connected and there is much love in this world. Thank you.

I need to remember this right now because I have just been passing out of a kind of dark night of my soul. A time where I watched my world crumbling around me, and where I have accountability for some of it, as is often the case, it takes more than one to create a storm. Yet in my self hate and lack of self worth, for a period of time I let ALL the blame fall on me. It almost took me down. I thought I was seriously losing my mind, was certain I did not deserve to live and was completely unstable. I have never experienced anything like this before in my life.

I have read it is called a phoenix process. A death and a rebirth but fuck, labor HURTS. I went so low that I believe I went into a sort of collective body of fear and negativity....... And am thankful to have turned a corner, gotten my power/truth back. I learned a lot about myself and am showing up in my life in a different way. It is not always easy because old habits are hard to break but I am day by day feeling more grounded and actually, God forbid, loving myself.... All of me. How shocking.....

My grandmother was a mother figure for me.....for better or worse. As she was dying of cancer I flew back and forth to Texas [NOT my hometown but where she resided] to be with her as much as possible for her last months in this life. I was 28 then and frightened to lose the strongest, most stable element of my life since my childhood. As I told her I was afraid and what would I do without her, she assured me that all would be fine. Then she said what I have never forgotten.... She said that there is only LOVE. That is all that mattered because it was behind everything. EVERYTHING. I realize this is not a new concept. Shortly after she passed I was pregnant with my first son.

My mentor, friend, teacher and father figure was a great man named Roy London. He too began his swan song shortly after my grandmother flew away. My heart was breaking wide open. But someone said that if your heart breaks enough, it starts to look like lace....... I saw Roy as much as possible fighting morning sickness and the heart break. I was told a story by his lover that I will also not ever forget.

In the last few days of my sweet Roy's life, he had a burst of energy and keep trying to get out of his hospice bed. He said he had made a mistake and needed to teach one more class before he died. He said he had been wrong. That all this time he thought it was power or love that was the motivation behind all scenes, scripts, stories. And that now he knew.... it was love. It had always been love and always would be. That that was all there is...

So the same message from two of the most loved and influential people in my life. In retrospect, other than a burning bush???? Turning knowledge into being seems a difficult task. And maybe its not something we can do, but that it does us. When the time is right. Those deaths took place 16 years ago and I am finally getting it on a deep level. I guess I am a slow learner.

So I think of another quote by a wonderful teacher on the planet right now. His name is Jeff Foster. He says:

"Love is not something you can do. Its all there is."

I will close with that. Happy to have actually written again with more to come. At least a few a week. And again, thank you, thank you, thank you for the LOVE you have all shown me.

My pity party, reaching for my voice again....help

2009-05-08T09:57:00.000-07:00

A wise man once shared that he feels there is no such thing as "writer's block", but that you simply don't have anything to say. I suppose that is where I have been. I got injured doing a stupid episode of a cable tv show and was basically thrown 5 feet across the room and fractured my tailbone. Also smashed into a potted plant on the ground on my mid back and altogether shocked my body, mind and spirit.

Woe is me. In a big way. This post is my pity party. It sucks being injured and especially at the hands of although someone I liked, I felt it was irresponsible. There is NEVER any reason to hurt another actor, even if the script demands, which this did not. Just a little to pumped up and into it , I suppose at my expense.

This situation has evoked something I had never experienced....panic attacks. Fun. Not sure why, but they just come up. Maybe because it was so unexpected at such a crucial part of the body, the tailbone, that is connected to...well...only everything. So I try to go one day at a time and heal. I m told it takes a long time. How fun.

I guess this is God's way of forcing me to slow down and to look at me and ask for help. I have discovered that I have a deep lack of self care/self love. I always knew it was there, but it is screaming at me now. You see, I am a micromanaging and very controlling person. So an injury is crazy making for a woman like me.

Then there is the joy of dealing with Workman's comp. And where they have for the most part been so helpful, lets face it....with all the fraud around this you meet some pretty shitty doctors who clearly don't even give a damn about you and at times downright lie about the actually injury. One in particular will be receiving a letter from me. Not because I feel I could ever change his willy ways but for ME.

It seems a well known fact but bears mentioning, those who cheat the system, screw it for those who have real injuries and need help. Oh well. I have been as I said taken care of so far so good. And even managed to find a good, kind doctor [on the approved list] so all is proceeded as it should.

So much for keeping my weight down. Not being able to move much in the past month has been disastrous. I feel like I have gained 300lbs. It actually closer to 10 but at 5"4, that a lot. But after starting physical therapy I will start moving again, starting today.

It seems to me that this is a boring blog so I apologize but it is simply where I am at the moment. The cool thing is that as I am writing, I just got a message from a fan in response to my complaining about the heat to"sit in front of a fan and update my blog." The beautiful, ironic part is that is EXACTLY what I am doing, even with the fan.

And so there is a GOD and we are all one and connected. I promise my next update to be ........hopefully more specific......more real..... but I am just continuing to pick up the bat.

One of my most revealing moments about me, to me was in a fight with some guy I was dating, it doesn't matter about what but I shouted at him with passion and misplaced strength,"You could NEVER say anything to me I haven't already said to myself!!!"

Get it, got it good.

In the RED

2009-02-24T12:48:00.000-08:00

So, you definitely know you've spent too much money in a store when upon arriving home, there is a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne waiting for you. Not from a lover or a secret admirer and its not even your birthday. But FROM the STORE you just assaulted with your credit card. Such was the case in my ,"I don't look at price tags" days. The days of wine and roses. Days long gone.

As me and my best friend blazed into the Beverly Center in my Range Rover one fine afternoon and strutted up the all too slow moving escalator, I was prepared to do some serious damage. And damage, I did. But as always, most of the damage was done to myself. I didn't know how or where but I was poised, ready to strike, Gold Amex in hand. I know you're surprised it wasn't the Platinum, but they had not come out yet...Gold was at that point, top of the line. And I wielded it with great pride. So as I sashayed around I found my mark. One of the most expensive stores in the place, of course, which has since gone out of business.

A place that would clothe you from head to toe. It was like when they dress you for a film, but you don't pay. In fact you get paid. EXCEPT that I would be the one paying. This was lost in the translation. I mean this store suits you from the top of your head to the bottoms of your feet, and everything in between. Start with a possible hat, necklace, scarf, blouse, jacket, trousers, belt, shoes, socks, underwear. You name it. Lets start with casual wear [pink cashmere sweater outfit to fly in], smart appt/audition outfit[Dolce Gabana navy suit] . You think they'd have given me some free clothes since I did an add campaign for them but, no. Gucci dress [de rigueur sexy number for whatever !!!]. Manolo Blahnik's up the ass [the Jimmy Choo of yesterday] Too much to remember, really. But the list went on and on and on.

As my dear friend recalls it, I walked around in a kind if trance , my eyes glazed over and whatever they brought [the three salesgirls running amok] I just kept saying yes, uunnhhuunnn, OK!!! Once one of the great outfits was established, then came the shoes, oh, the PERFECT necklace, they need a belt and a bra with sufficent uplift power. Think Madonna pointed titties. Things flying fast and furious as the stack of take homes got bigger and bigger. I have done many a rushed fittings for filming but these people had it down to a science. Shorten the length wearing a heel, [I am only 5"4 after all] and on to the next,next, next.

Of course in addition to my seek and destroy my bank account attitude under the guise, gee, aren't I in and cool, part of what was fueling me was a seemingly endless supply of caffe lattes. How many was that, my third. No, fourth... Like being at a bar with a cute guy, having so much "fun" you just keep drinking and drinking until you are sick at the end of the night, or worse, in the public bathroom. Intimate with the cold white toilet. Silly me, I was hoping to be so with the cute, sensitive ponytail guy. [Another scary 80's fact] And I now wonder : was it the booze that had me tossing my cookies or the sick fact that my head, face, hands etc were in a public toilet that thousands of asses have occupied...ugh...good times. I don't wish to be 20 again.

That glorious and memorable day, the bill exceeded even my great expectations. I had to actually pull a second Amex to cover it all, to my shame this one was NOT gold. I may be blacking it out, like a woman after giving birth not allowing herself to remember the really painful parts...but I think I had to actually put a few things back. Horror of all horrors. But to be fair to me, I can't be certain that occurred. So please don't hold it against me.

The want and the need thing is strong, in all of us. And the actual difference between what we "want" and "need" get incredibly distorted. At least for me it does. The HOW it manifests is individual though. But it all stems from the same place. Rumi calls it a longing to belong to oneself. And yes, we are programmed ....... "they" want to keep us two all important things. Scared and consuming. I was one of the biggest supporters. But I think I tried to hide the scared with all of my needs/wants. I was scared that I did not fit in, just a girl high school drop out from Michigan. Scared I did not have the right clothes, shoes, hair, makeup, or things to say. The only one that really fed me and kept me growing was seeking the right things to say....because in general, that put me on a sort of spiritual path. For lack of a better phrase.

My experience with wanting is that I see something I feel I must have. Lets say a Juicy Couture, black short sleeved, polka dotted, terrycloth sweatshirt with a hood but not the shorts [hint,hint...a little too specific]... Anyway, I want it. And think of how cute I will look in it, and the places I can wear it, that it can be dressed up or dressed down, I build my case of why it MUST be mine. And so on and so on. Then comes the worry, if I cannot get it. The ways to get some money for it. The sadness of not being able to get it. The self loathing. The pity party for me. It is a very negative experience. Over a freaking terrycloth hoodie. See the madness??!!!

The opposite is that I see it, I want it, I get it!!! She shoots, she SCORES!!! Fans applaud!!!!YYYAAAAAAAA!!!! Then another kind of madness ensues. Yes, it feels good to have it as I literally skip out the store. Won't I be so cute in this, HAH I got it, I can't wait to wear it. Where will I wear, when will I wearit, should I just slip it on and wear it out??!!! Lijke as a kid I used to do with a new pair of shoes, only to find that they hurt my little fat feet. [another blog altogether] But as I am just about out the door of the store with my new Juicy hoodie in hand....something catches my eye.......what's that? The newest baggy" boyfriend jeans" that all magazines have been showing and made by J Brand??!!! Uhhhhh... I want those..... Do I return the hoodie.... And it all starts all over again.

Or there is the scenario that with the much coveted hoodie at my home. I am just NOT wearing it. Why you ask? Because I must find the absolute perfect occassion to wear it to. I don't want to waste my first time wearing out for all the world to see afterall. This is the kind of obsessive shit that actually occupies my mind, I am sorry to say. If you feel bad for me, feel free to purchase the Juicy hoodie on line. I know I will feel so much better and so might you.

It is, as a great writer I worked with once eloquently called it: Filling the wrong hole. This I tried to do in many different ways for a long time. And still at times fall prey to its craziness. A dear makeup artist friend of mine once heard me obsessing over a particular skirt I saw in a magazine and simply said... Will that skirt complete you. YES!!! I shouted at her. YES it will. It is the missing link. The fucking skirt IS the missing link in my life and will make all my problems, sadnesses and shortcomings go far far away.... Of course I got her point but I was young and dumb and thought part of it was she was just jealous because she couldn't see a designer skirt in Vogue and have it summoned to her as I could. OWWWWWW, lucky me.

Wise people have said that what happens between getting the things we want and then them not being enough[ and that can last a minute or days, weeks or months] is that we simply STOP wanting. We just STOP WANTING>>>>> In that is a calm, a peace, a sense of completion. A stopping of the seeking to fill the wrong hole. Not a completion because we got the shirt, car, man...fill in the blank. But a stopping to the endless want. Stemming from what I have is not enough.

With all this "STUFF" in the world how do we navigate it all . How do we not buy into it when it is constantly being shoved down our throats? And what will really complete us? One thing is for sure, no person completes us. {Hate that Jerry McGuire line, sooo awful!!!} No job or career completes us. Not even a child completes us, but it comes closer for me than anything else ever has.

What if..... we are already complete. What if, all of this is a pack of lies. That you need to grow and learn and change where you are in your life. What if you are exactly where you are supposed to be and whatever you think, that you have never made any mistakes in your life. NOT ONE. I know many find this impossible and even arrogant and offensive. Oh I'm sorry, am I knocking on the door of you possibly releasing your cherished suffering? Your sob stories of how hard your life has been. The same stories you have told people over and over, embellishing them a little each time for dramatic effect and to up the sympathy level.

I speak to what I have direct experience with. All people do this. But the trying to escape IS our pain and suffering. The nonacceptance for our life, exactly as it is, IS the pain and suffering. The bludgeoning of ourselves, of our supposedly wrong choices, or even egotistically making all we do more than it is worth, IS the pain and suffering. It is, what it is, as it is. So move on. Sometimes its great and sometimes it sucks. So be it. What is with all the labels designed to falsely elevate or drag us into the mud. Each as much sleep as the other.

Enough is enough. I say what we are trying to escape to is here, right now but only when it is seen with clarity. The clarity being an acceptance. Of whatever is happening, right now. And the peace that will come along with it. And it will never look the way we think it should. Never. What we are seeking is so simple and so present that we miss it. Like the fish in the sea who can't find the water because he is swimming in it. For those of you who are happy where you are, how wonderful, God bless. But for those of us who still seek some future date for things to be perfect, you are missing the perfection right now. Even if it shows up on this planet of duality as pain, joy, sadness, ecstasy, love, hate.....so be it. Feel. Love. Be a human....being. And live and let live.

As my philosophy teacher used to say to all of his students:

Everything is in the moment, except you.

Creature of habit-at

2009-02-20T10:45:00.000-08:00

I hate to admit it but I think I am an extremely obsessive person. About odd things like keeping my house clean, keeping my child's toys orderly, painting my nails, keeping laundry down to nothing, emptying the water that fills in the soap dishes, putting up the shades to the same length, making homemade soup almost everyday [even in the summer], walking the same path with my baby everyday, cooking the same foods, eating the same foods at specific restaurants,

having candles burning during the day, doing the same things and wholeheartedly expecting different results.......and we all know what that is.

You see, I am a creature of habit to an extreme degree. I have things that I do over and over and over. Day after day and year after year. I am quite predictable. And a walking contradiction as well. But not in the ' touch the light switch three times ' kind of way. But more in the "do what I know" kind of way. This combined with being a control freak and a busy addict creates a sort of hell for my family. I do 20 things at one time and expect others to keep up. I am even this way in my communication. I have many voices going on in my head at all times and come out with complete nonsequetor. But the train of the thought is normal to me. Albeit ,Abby Normal.

Is it that I just long for control in a world where we never have any. That and a desire for things not to keep changing, which as you can imagine causes so much pain. Mix in some huge abandonment issues and I am certifiable. Most people are, I think but cannot admit it. In the unconscious mind, we are all nuts, lets face it. And as I work to bring a light more light onto my issues ......it is madness. I must credit my dear David Lynch who always encouraged me to not be afraid to shine a light in the dark corners of my mind. He does so by courageous example and I love him for teaching me that.

Of course I'd much rather keep the spotlight on the shiny, great parts of me and pretend the other stuff does not exist. Who wouldn't... Oh, who am I kidding, that is not true. It may have been in the past but part of this blog is to tear down the walls that hold me inside.....[thank you Bono] To stop trying to say my words within the context of others' words. To show me, warts and all and in that find my voice/my truth because truth is so beautiful to me.

The pattern of my days changes very little and when it does, I have great anxiety. I wake up between 7 an 7:30am. My baby nurses like a banshee and as I pry myself away, he screams bloody murder. He is a Leo and has a roar like no other. I make my way through the maze of locked baby proofed gates, and toys lodged in places designed to stop the 4 [ugh,yes 4 ] dogs from coming into the kitchen area and peeing all over the carpet. It is an obstacle course for sure. At least one time a day, one of of slams against it or falls or smashes our toe. It's a real party.

First order of business, make 6 cups of coffee in the maker for me and my man to wake up.

Then I promptly begin to clean and organize all my baby's toys. I believe they play better without chaos but maybe its ME that plays better without chaos. Of course I wouldn't know, since all I have is chaos. This ritual of cleaning and organizing his toys is repeated numerous times through out the day. Clean up books, he throws them. Arrange trains, he throws them. Put balls back into the bucket, he throws them. It is yet another, kind of madness within my so called life. Sometimes he will even stalk me and throw them just as I finish. And I have even engaged in many a battle where he throws them and I put them back, and he throws them and I put them back...... guess who wins??!!! You got it. The Leo baby. But alas, there is always a little while later when distracted, I succeed at getting it all arranged perfectly for optimal play...... He wins some battles but I win the war.

So one may see how some of this is borderline obsessive. And that is only the 15 to 20 minutes of my morning. God forbid do I endeavor to change my outgoing message on my cell phone. This is repeated to nauseam, never feeling I can get it right. [Too sweet, too wanna be sexy, to long, to childish, too too] Then I have approximately 1 hour and 15 minutes to get breakfast for my man, 2 teenagers and baby. And then its preparing lunches for all. Often times fried chicken tenders[ a 12 year habit] or now this year, I have opened it up a little and am actually making sandwiches. Wow, growth, who da thunk. Being on the budget means food made at home is always cheaper. bvdjdhotuehwvnkblkghejkl!!! Budgets suck... no one can be a true Gelson's whore on a budget.

Then it is juggling my baby. Playing, reading and watching Thomas the tank engine. Doing laundry. Writing my blog when time and thoughts permit. Sometimes [OK. almost daily] trying to paint my nails when they inevitable gets knocked and look like shit. So the process starts all over again tomorrow. Are we having fun yet? Doing all the morning dishes. Wrangling all the dogs outside. Rainy days present a special kind of joy. Muddy paws in and out all day. Cute little buggers. And cleaning up the endless poop they seem to leave IN the house. So much for the $3,500. training per dog at at "top kennel" in Santa Monica. You know the kind, with pictures of "stars" all over the walls. It didn't mean shit. Literally. Pun intended.

Preparing for the daily walk can be harder than it seems. Must get both of us dressed. I have been doing a weight loss wrap so that means putting on the oil while avoiding my satellite baby who wants to touch me at all times. Especially when my energy is begging that he doesn't. Murphy's Law runs rampant in my life, how about yours? Then wrapping myself with saran wrap like a sausage up one leg, across the hips [God help these Italian/Hungarian hips] and down the other. Promotes sweating, you see. And it itches like crazy. But I am in Hollywoodland and if I want to work, [which sometimes I'm not even sure I do] I cannot have extra weight on me. Not in the land of Hollypops. Sticks with heads.

The walk itself is always a great reprieve and feels great to move. Because I get so little movement the rest of the day...hehehe. I walk like a woman on a mission. Briskly and with a good amount of pace. Right left right left. The same thought running through my head over and over. If you keep your heart rate up for at least 45 minutes, you burn FAT all day. Right left right left, squeezing each buttocks as I go. Trying desperately to tighten me booty. Right left right left. Sometimes under headphones with music, moving to the beat of the song. Alanis Morrisette: though I love her is sometimes too slow. But meaningful. Red hot chili peppers: Californication gets a good work out. U2 : seems to have a bit of it all.[Again, thank you Bono]

Once home baby boy sleeps for a bit so I am free. Free to do what I want, free to be who I want. So I run for my daily fix of one my idols, Marilyn Milian . She is the judge on The People's Court. I want to be her when I grow up. hmmmmmmm, that's disturbing coming from a 44 year old woman. Oh well, tis the truth and you know me with that. Judge Milian's ability to weed through all the bullshit , get to the bottom line in mere minutes, her neutral approach to every person that enters her courtroom and her commitment to what is true.

I even steal some of her sayings: To my self obsessed, manipulative step daughter I'll say:"Where you're going, I've been, sat down, had a coke and came back!" That is my favourite. Or there is "It looks like we have to do a little rough justice here." And ,"What do you think this is a bonanza?" And when she is interrupted, which is often as I am "Did I breath and give you the impression I was done talking??!!" Judge Marilyn Milian, you literally make me a better woman.

After my fix, it is only a short amount of time before the teenagers get home. This means enjoy the peace while it lasts. My stepdaughter literally never stops talking and all she talks about is herself. On and on and on go her stories featuring her the star of each and everyone. My son will alternate between screaming everything he says as if all others are twenty yards away to only answering in one word sentences, a series of grunts and clicks. And that is if he talks and answers at all. 14 and 15 as they are, they will more often then they care for me to admit behave as if they are 4 year olds, he teasing and scaring her, she shrieking and screaming, stop it, stop it, stop it. You feel like you are losing your mind. And you are.

It is now that the countdown ensues, [ 15,14,13, ] waiting for my man to come [ 12,11, ] and buffer all this with me. So a bottle of wine MUST be opened [10, 9, ] as I try to ignore the teens and maneuver through the witching hour with the baby [ 8,7 ] while I monitor them.[ 6,5, ] Are u doing your homework? Take out the trash! [ 4 ] Why is your room a pig stye AGAIN?[ 3 ] Stop teasing the baby. [ 2 ] Stop teasing each other. [1 ] You got what grade on that test. [1...] You left dishes here. [1!] uhh [where is he?] Take your stuff to your room, not in the middle of the floor. [ 1!! ] Did u feed the dogs? [ 1!!!] uhhhhh [where is he??] [ 1!!!! ] Hang up the phone and finish your homework. [0??!!!!! ] [where is he? Abandonment kicking in!!] This is it. This is my life.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home.

At last he arrives and I have a real partner. When he is here, he is always helping in so many ways. We bear the burdens & joys together. Because to be good parents, one must be involved completely. And make no mistakes, babies are amazing. But teenagers can make you crazy. And we have teenagers AND diapers. Therefore, we are amazed and crazy. Amazingly crazy.

This may lead one to believe that I long for a different life. Less stress. A healthier grasp of my issues. More money. Better behaved kids. Less obsessive patterns. Well, I do........................ Want more money. Who doesn't. But I would not give up any part of this, my life, for the world. It is mine and perfectly....mad. Don't cha know, its a mad, mad, mad, mad world. Marvelously mad. And everchanging.

Be it ever so humble....there's no place like home.

Child, woman. Woman, child.

2009-02-17T10:51:00.000-08:00

I was 19 years old. I had only been living in LA for a little over a year and had begun a halfhearted pursuit of acting. After all, what else could I do?? And it wasn't even really acting that I wanted to learn, I didn't feel I had anything to learn at that point in my life. I thought I knew it all like most of us at that age. And let's face it, I was lazy. So in this naive state, I just thought ...hmmmmm....it would be "fun" to be a movie star. Like it was that easy. And my, mother coming from a show business family promptly jumped on board.

One of the first teachers I encountered was a very bitter old man who at one point was a director and had even been blacklisted. Needless to say, he had quite a chip on his shoulder. As I tried to do a scene from Agnes of God, he mocked and belittled me. Sadly, his own anger leaked out onto all of his students. I'll never forget what he said. "Child, woman. Woman, child. Whatever you are. This town is gonna chew you up and spit you out when you aren't sweet anymore!!!" Yikes...... That hurt. I'd been chewed up and spit out my whole life. So this was not unfamiliar territory. And aren't most 19 year old girls child, women??!!!

Of course in retrospect, I see it clearer and thank God, encountered some amazing teachers after him who loved and supported me and my growth and exploration. But I have after all these years never forgot his words. With all the positive that has come into my life, it seems I've hung on with a literal vengeance to the ugly, painful stuff that was done or said to me. This fact reminds me to a. be careful what I say b. try not to spew my unresolved anger onto others

c. try to let go of all this negative baggage. All of which I am only mildly successful at.

In a business where you are defined by your very last job, not a body of work. By the people you know, date or are related to. By how "thin" you are and how" young" you look. By mistakes and gossip from your past, it is not an easy task to put all that stuff down. You see, in Hollywoodland, it is your calling card. Don't tell the truth, hide your age, keep fit with the Madonna 4 hour a day workout. And always, always, ALWAYS at all costs, you must look SEXY.

I've always wondered, what does it mean exactly to be a "SEX SYMBOL"? Does it mean in the dictionary if you look up sex there is a picture of you? Or the huge amount of women who are called that? Why is that title reserved more for women then men? Does it mean when people look at you they imagine have sex WITH you? Or do you just symbolize it in such a way that they will then think of sex with their beloved ? How has the MOST physically connected one can be to another become as trivialized and mundane as squatting to go to the bathroom on a toilet?

I also find it so noteworthy that a few of the women who were so famous for this title, sex symbol, were actually dealing with some interesting issues around it that were diametrically opposed to the image the world had given them. I site Clara Bow and Bettie Page as two of them. If anyone cares to look beyond the image , they will find yet another American with some confused ideas about it all.

This is the truth with me as well. I tried to courageously look at and reveal things that made me uncomfortable. Things I did not understand about relationships and intimacy. My job [I learned later by better teachers] was to illuminate the human struggle. And there were times I naively worked with people who were not on the same page or even on the same planet as I. But I learned. If I was not discovering, uncovering & recovering, I would've just been an exhibitionist. Desperate and excited to strip and show my God given attributes. Which is fine if that is your cup of tea. God bless. I speak here, as always, of MY truth from my direct experience. I had no interest in that. In fact, it was like an exorcism.

There is quite a world famous scene in a film that gives me friction. I mean if you are gonna take your underwear off for a scene in a film, spread your legs and be lit well enough that your "pooch" is visible, which is not an easy task for a DP by the by: Why not be real enough to own it. Not to pretend that you did not know that you could be seen , in the scene, that way. A role and move that ultimately made you a scenester. hehehe..... But seriously, it is just such hypocrisy to me. Maybe the average person who is not accustomed to being on film sets will buy that but anyone in the business knows it to be pure bullshit.

What is up with America and nudity anyway. As an actress, once your shirt is off... your work is immediately dismissed. It is not the same in Europe. It shows the immaturity of this very young country we live in. Even on the scale of breast feeding. It freaks people out. As if they have forgotten that breasts were intended to feed babies. In the healthiest and purist way. I have even heard breast feeding characterized that the mother is getting off sexually and that is why they do it. Or that it is just a fad, when it has been happening for thousands of years. All over the world!!!

This judgement and shock at an actresses recent actions of nursing an ill and starving baby while visiting Africa was appalling. What a heart she has. What an example of a pure woman with the maternal instinct firmly in place. I wonder how can in the face of such selflessness and care these crude comments arise. Every base man with little to no being uttered the predictable, "I'd let her nurse me too!!!" With Obama making us proud to be Americans again, finally, comments like that are nothing less than embarrassing and pathetic. The point being missed entirely.

Is the world really becoming that polarized with less and less of the needed gray area in tact. Is it turning into the Stephen King novel,"The Stand."??? It seems so. The light is getting lighter and the dark, darker, stupider and more dense. Make no mistake, the world is changing. We all need to think before we act. Be clear about the path that we are on. Or not. Your choice.

Many people are changing their lives. And will meet resistance as they step out of the tribe, out of the collective sleep. An actor on Letterman the other night is doing just that and was being publicly ridiculed for it. It was clear he did not want to be there and my guess is a lawsuit was threatened if he didn't show. So he showed with his truth and was mocked mercilessly. I found it another sad example of the immaturity and desire to always "rip others down" syndrome that is rampant in this world.

I had the honor of playing Elizabeth Taylor. She illustrates this in her direct experience with her "public." She was loved by all. Her life since she was a child had been documented. Her third husband died in a tragic plane crash [i believe] and her public mourned with her. UNTIL, she started a relationship with Eddie Fisher and he left America's sweetheart Debbie Reynold's to do so. She received hate mail and death threats. She hid out in Rome trying to get Cleopatra off the ground. Then almost died and had to have an emergency tracheotomy, and predictably, her public came rushing back to her. That same year she won an Oscar for what she calls her WORST performance and says she knows it is only because she almost died. It is transparent and actually quite weird.

So we can live in the world but not be of it. I want to continue to have the courage to go against the tide. And thank God, that tide is changing. What is that saying....something like....It is just as bad to commit an injustice on another as it is to stand by idle and watch it occur without saying or doing anything. Water seeks its own level and I will continue to shout and shine my truth from my blog mountaintop and if I reach even one person, I am happy. And my family is thankful that maybe, maybe, they don't have to hear it all themselves.

Namaste

Confessions of a Gelson's whore

2009-02-08T16:47:00.000-08:00

So, I've always been a huge fan of Gelson's... the Super Market. But in these financially challenging times, shopping at a store with such a super mark -up is not too bright. But I can't say that I don't miss it like an addict to their heroin fix. There are so many wonderful things about Gelson's super market, the least of not that its somewhere you can go where they remember your name.... [uh, was that in a TV show theme song??!!] And the store itself is always so clean, the produce fresh and ripe, and oh so shiny from the waxy finish.

When I enter a Gelson's I am oddly happy, and grocery shopping (a normally mundane task) becomes a powerfully moving experience. I fancy myself quite successful as I fill up my cart to the rim. Sadly eyeing those who only have the hand held carry along. Ha! I think, they cannot afford to fill a cart like I. Sad to say, but I would feel quite good about my seeming status.

Price can be no issue when one shops there. We Gelson's frequenters do not even LOOK at the prices, for we are proud and free! We want paper AND plastic!!! We deserve it.

As I approach the check out, I anticipate what holiday is being promoted with gusto on the beautiful paper bags. Every holiday seems to have its days of glory at the beloved Gelson's. Bright pink and red hearts for Valentine's Day. Big orange pumpkins and scary ghosts at Halloween. Even a big Happy 44th Birthday Sherilyn, with balloons and brightly colored......just kidding. That was my imagination. But when you shop there, your ego gets all puffed up, like a bird that knows its being watched.

As the ringer takes each item out of my cart and rings it up, that's right, at Gelson's you don't have to put your groceries on the conveyor belt. Its like the queen not ever needing to touch her money. Queen like feel, I stand munching on some tiny size Chiclets [only available at Gelson's] feeling quite proud of all my purchases. Knowing these lowly workers can't shop here themselves, maybe just a discount lunch at the deli section.....

Then, the total........ $473.55 .............. uh.............. wow........... yikes.......... huh ........uhhhhhhh!!! Now the deflation process begins, if one has any common sense at all. You look at the bags colorful as they are but they can't stop the thoughts from flooding in. Did I get THAT much? Maybe I should have held off on the prime rib roast!! Shampoo is much cheaper if I use my discount card at the beauty supply store, Friends. Should I put something back?? No, no, no toooo embarrassing. Next time I will go someplace else. Someplace cheaper for God's sake.

But like any other addict, you soon find yourself at the dealers door about a week later for your next fix. Because you see, I am the girl who laughs in the face of buy one get one free, spits at the notion of money back coupons, I don't even think Gelson's makes them. But I was wasteful back then and had no value for money. I did not grow up with money and had a family that acted as if it was so important. And where it is nice to have, [and to the universe I definitely want more of it] it buys nothing real and often times a lot of headaches and heartaches. In my experience whatever you get, just makes you want more. Its awful.

The word "want" comes from the Norse. And its translation is lack. Want means lack. Now that is not to say that I don't occasionally hit the Gelson's but NOT as hard as in the past. In fact, I tip toe in and out as quick as possible. no pomp and pageantry, just my humble budget. It has for me lost some of its shine. I am however happy to share for those who have the need, that Seventh Generation natural diapers [for all us conscious mothers] are as competitive as at Baby's-R-Us. And cheaper than Whole Foods. Shocking really. Maybe even Gelson's is getting the planetary shift occurring.

A fact you may or may not know is that I have been blessed with another baby boy. At 42, I had my second son Christian James. My Myles Maximillian has just turned 15 years old. Teenagers and diapers. [A book I was trying to write as well.] This is perfect, for me. My kids continue to be the best things in my life. But this time around, I stopped working to stay at home with him. Yes, I left Hollywood for over the past two years. And then I entered into another beautiful relationship with Ralph. Ralph helps me feed my family. Ralph lets me keep some of my money for doing the things I want to do. And Ralph allows me to buy extra little things I want to buy. Of course I am speaking of Ralph's market. OK, its not as clean. Not as shiny. Not as COSTLY!!!!! My life has drastically changed. My confession is that at first I hated it!!! I felt it below me. How could I put my groceries on the belt??!!! What do you mean am I a value costumer with a card??? Why can't I just have paper and plastic without being asked and having to feel the guilt of possibly being wasteful.

But as time has a way of teaching us, if we allow it to, I learned. As money was tight, I could go get much more food for not a lot of money. And there is nothing worse than not knowing what you are gonna feed your family. And rejecting the McDonalds nation as I do, I want my kids to be healthy. And Gelson's does not always mean healthy.

Another confession is that I who swore to never do that coupon thing, now do it, and do it with gusto. I saved $35.00 the other day and could not believe how happy it made me. No its not a lot, but its something. So I shall continue on my path to being aware of the real worth of things. Be it food, people, time with my family, with my friends, and how much I am willing to give Hollywoodland. Life is a dance and when we dance the music keeps changing. We need to adjust to the music with grace. Everything is changing people, will you dance through it with grace or have it pull you kicking and screaming, it's up to you... Or is it???!!!

I know we are all one but THIS is ridiculous.

2009-02-07T13:00:00.000-08:00

I watch the kids at my teen stepdaughters school and they all look exactly the same!!! The girls all have long, straightened hair [which is painstaking ironed flat every morning, hence the 2 hour before they leave wake up call] tight "skinny" jeans[which I am sure is great friction for the many who aren't skinny enough to squeeze into a pair] ,tucked into Uggs [de rigueur: at least mid calf but to the knee is preferred but more $$$] or Converse-Chuck Taylors, preferably black. Like the tons of coal eyeliner giving a raccoon appearance, desperate to be grown up?!!! The t-shirts are layered, usually extremely low cut and the jacket of choice, a zipper hoodie. And if permitted, a g-string coming up out of their "skinny" jeans ,bright and exposed by design for all to see.

Where this is not a bad look per se, [minus the g-string which is ugly no matter what age you are], the issue is that literally, they are ALL wearing it. It is like a version of young, Stepford wives. As they leave after the dismissal bell en masse, picking my daughter out of the crowd of clones is almost impossible. I simply now wait for her to find me.

It is sad on a lot of levels . Do any of them want to explore who they are becoming or just fit in. And fit into what? The overt sexualization of girls, women. There are even "skinny" jeans that are low cut for baby girls. BABY GIRLS!!! Of course if your baby is healthy and round, forget it. They won't fit. Evoking such thoughts as....Hhhhhmmmm, does my baby needs to be on a diet... But I digress.

I get that people might say that this is a part of being a teenager. But I beg to differ, it is a mindset. Many grown ups are doing the same thing. There are these "in" outfits that rob people of any personal expression on the most base level, what you wear on your back. How you present yourself out in the world. I like the Einstein story, that he had all the same pants and shirts that he wore everyday. Because he had more important things to think about. At least that was somewhat original.

I suppose it does not help that we live in a place where if one does dresses out of the box they are laughed at, mocked or put on the worst dressed list. But personally, I would rather have that then be a part of the sleep of the masses of clones. Because that thinking and following leads to a lack of individuality in every aspect of life. Like a stone thrown in the water, there is a ripple affect. What do "they" say about politics -repeating it. What do "they" say about plastic surgery-repeating it. What do "they" say about when to have sex-repeating it. What do "they" say about GOD- repeating it. No honoring, exploration or even acknowledgement of one's direct experience. It all goes through the "they" filter. And most importantly who the fuck is THEY?!

Whats wrong with the truth???!!!

2009-02-06T09:23:00.000-08:00

Since I was a child I would always just call things as I saw them. Much to the dismay of my family. I had little to no filter on my mouth and not much has changed. This can bring a lot of frustration to those around me who DO NOT speak their minds or share their truth. In the 1950's nobody said the truth so as James Dean cried on screen and Marlon Brando wailed a heartfelt ,"Stelllllaaaa!!" The world gratefully embraced them and then elevated them to icon status, thankful that finally someone was authentically sounding the notes of the heart. [Mind you, not as many woman were allowed that revealing truth, ha, the patriarch. But that is another conversation altogether. Blog to follow at a later date]

As I lost myself in my 20's, as most do to materialism, narcissism, and the basic pursuit to "make my mark" [sprinkled with the ever present abuse of drugs and alcohol, it was a confusing and lonely time. I was trying to be who everyone else thought I should be. Or who I saw being successful. And who the acknowledgement from the public and fans wanted me to be. Yes, I had money. Yes, I had relations with attractive and sometimes "famous" men. Yes, I had a promising career. But what was it promising?!! More sleep from my true self? More distance from the authentic child who said what she saw and felt. More of the running on the hamster wheel of trying to keep up with the Jone's. Or the Julia's. When I hated her and her "work", and crocodile tears??!!!

What a lie on so many levels I was living but I was the last person to know it. How could I see it through all the shiny accolades and endless photo shoots. Wasn't I living the Hollywoodland dream??!!! My biggest leap back to truth was having my son, Myles when I was 28 years old. Someone, perfect and beautiful, OUTSIDE of ME to focus on. To love and to care for. Unconditional love. Someone who will never leave me.... :{ Of course, 3 months in, I was in Africa filming with him in tow. But to my credit he was on every location I worked on. After all, WHO was gonna pay for the extreme lifestyle I had set up for myself. I was living the seed my mother had planted: Always make your own money so you never have to count on a man.

Through constant seeking and disappointing disillusionment from the business over the next 16 years we fast forward to me, now. I am thrilled to report that I , with big mouth in tact, I am back. It was a hard and extremely painful road at times but worth every step. I like to describe ,myself as the one who is screaming that the emperor is naked!!! My best friend/lover/life partner Dylan takes it a step further. He says I am the screaming,"The emperor is naked!!!!! And he has a small dick!!!" OK, he is accurate.

My dear friend was sharing about who I am to a client of hers. And they replied that I sound like a very nice person. She promptly corrected them. "Oh, she's not nice, but she's honest!" It hurt a little but I laughed and still do at the accuracy of these statements. To thine own self, be true. And now I am. It only took 44 years to get here, with still a lot of work ahead of me.

This blog is part of the sharing of my unfiltered truth. If you like it, read on. If not, never read again. You see, it makes no difference to me. So I ask, what's wrong with the truth???!!!! Isn't it easier then living in the tangled web of lie after lie after lie. Isn't it cleaner to just honestly know and see oneself. Isn't this where our consciousness is headed. I understand these are rhetorical questions. They are meant to be.

We can lie to others all day long and many times they will never know. But how long can one continue to lie to oneself??? You cannot run from yourself be cause wherever you go, there you are. And maybe you are just missing the absolute beauty and truth that exists in the seeming flaws. My dearest teacher Roy London, who passed used to illustrate this to me in this fact. When a rose blossoms, there is ALWAYS one flawed petal. Always ONE FLAWED PETAL. Of course, the florist will pluck it off because its not so pretty to look at. But I believe when we begin to see the beauty in the flaws, and accept and embrace them, it is the beginning of self love."

And that's all I have to say about that..." Thank you Forrest Gump.

Leave Christian Bale alone

2009-02-04T09:15:00.000-08:00

Yes, I heard the tape after reading 16 mean spirited and judgemental comments on a friends Facebook. I thought , oh my God, he killed is mother, or a dog or did some unimaginable and horrific act. Oh no!!!! But no, he expressed anger at a DP who was insensitive to the space an actor tries to create. How many times that has happened to me and it is so distracting. I never yelled at anyone [about that anyway] but wished I had at times.

I am in no way condoning what he did but just feel that people should take their laser like analysis and aim it and themselves."Why so serious??" Nobody knows what is going on in CB's life personally. What is always underneath anger is hurt!!! Haven't any of you had therapy??!!! And who has not had some misplaced anger.

Or better yet, who has the courage to own that they have! It just was not blasted for all the world to hear. CB's is and what a scary bandwagon of bludgeoning criticism he has now met with. It seems to me an example of the very problem we have in this world. Its all about focusing on negative shit. Like the news, all dark and ugly stories.

I always thought it would be so wonderful to have a Good News show. A show of amazing and empowering stories to uplift, empower and connect people. We are all one people, so when you judge another like that it simply reflects your own self hate. So give yourself and Christian and me a break. If you have a big reaction to this, investigate WHY????? Because the bigger the response, the more personal the material. Call me CRAZY as many have,but I live by the quote: AN UNEXAMINED LIFE IS NOT WORTH LIVING. Examine you and stop with this nonsense.

Uh-Oh, I have a blog.... Now what?

2009-01-30T20:26:00.000-08:00

Wow. OK, now I have a blog. What to say. I don't know....Well, this won't last for long, you see I have a big mouth and created this [rather, my man did] to have a place to put it all. I will share my truth, my perspective, my direct life experience in hopes that it touches a few people and connects them with their own authentic truth. As ONLY sharing of one's truth will do.

One part of me hates computers and another, as a wise friend said, feels they are GOD boxes. Connecting us with such a volume of souls that would otherwise never be a part of one's day to day experiences.

So here I am to ruffle some feathers and shine some light on the dark corners of my mind. But be warned that when one does that, you may get some reflective light on the dark corners your own. And that is my intention. With love and light.