Here it is...

http://adriaoccasionally.wordpress.com/



See you over there!

Adria

Big News

I'm switching, guys. Don't get scared! I'm switching to WordPress and I have a new web address and a new title, but it's still me! And all these posts will still be there!

I'm not even going to give you the address yet, because I want this to sink in. This blog will still be up, but I won't be writing here anymore. This is a very sad day for all of us, but I promise we can continue our relationship! Think of it like a good friend who used to live in the blue house on the corner, and that was where you went if you needed her, and she was always there, but now she got a better job, and started riding her bike everywhere and he moved to a great new loft downtown, with exposed brick walls and free street parking. You might not like having to go somewhere else to find her, but once you learn the fastest way to get there, she'll be waiting for you, with a cold beer and a big bowl of guacamole. Come on in!

In case you feel left out and would like to know what I've been up to, I'll give you the short end of it:
-I'm bad at chopping onions
-My dad and I have been having an email "fight" about Woody Allen quotes. Can someone buy that guy a plane ticket out of 1970s New York? Just kidding, it's awesome.
-I took a yoga class today from a lady who had one of those old-hippie-lady-baby voices that you find in LA. I'm already sore though, so I'll take it.
-I've decided that if you don't pay your medical bills nothing happens. That's what I've decided, so take that foot doctor!

Ciao, and see you on WordPress! I'll post the link tomorrow. Get psyched!

A

We're All Just Dirty Hippies After All...no? maybe just me

Living in LA has completely changed my relationship with nature, and I know that's a cliche thing to say, but I'm seriously always doing outdoorsy activities. I go hiking at least once a week, yesterday I played tennis for the first time in over a year (and my forearm is wondering why I tortured it now), and I try to get to the beach whenever I can. Those of you who know me know that being outside has always been my "jam". When I lived in London I used to sit in a bathing suit on our rooftop in March (seriously...I know), I had to force myself to sit on the dock by the lake in college year-round (even though it was sometimes almost always snowy and -10º), and running along the East River last winter saved me from insanity. But this is different. It's socially acceptable and no one calls me crazy, because its warm enough (sometimes. I mean I'm wearing wool socks and a cashmere sweater on top of my regular sweater to sit on the porch right now, but you know.).

Last week, like I mentioned, I was in Santa Barbara/Santa Ynez Valley and went on quite the hike. We were the only people on the trail and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was talking very loudly after I saw the mountain lion/rattlesnake warning signs, but it was worth it. The top of the mountain (not very high, but right at sea level, so majestic nonetheless) was covered in caves (they are called the Gaviota Wind Caves, in case you want to Google) and you could climb in them and sit or, whatever you want, really, since there's no one else around except the lizards. We sat in the top cave where you could see the surrounding hills and the Pacific and it was one of the coolest things I've seen in awhile (and I've seen some cool things). I have better pictures, but the camera cord for that camera is MIA, so in the meantime:

In addition to all of the nature, life has been pretty full. I spend entirely too much time and energy worrying about this never-ending diet. Today I mostly just wondered how I could convince myself that it'd be okay to eat a croissant for breakfast (I didn't) or a bowl of cereal (I've gone two months without cereal, again, for those of you who know me, that's INSANE) or a bagel, or maybe just a gigantic slice of pizza. I had my first real, important audition yesterday, and I'm sure I won't get it, not because I'm negative, but because I'm realistic, but it's a great stepping stone. Other than that, it's just a lot of work trying to figure out what my life should be shaped like right now, and how to catch up on all of my moving expenses (yes, still).

I've noticed that there's a lot more of you reading than in the past, follow and show some real love, or give me some comments so I know who's out there! Show yourselves, folks! Let's be friends!

A

On Film, Oscar...and falling down.

Once again, I owe an apology to anyone who thinks that this blog is updated "regularly". Life keeps getting in the way, but I promise to try and be more scheduled in the future (as soon as my life evens out a bit).

I was out of town for the past few months days (sometimes I think that my cross-country–holy hell I just wrote "cuntry"...bedtime?–move is just an out of town trip) and I promise I'll write about that little jaunt up to Santa Barbara/Solvang soon, but for the time being, let's talk Oscar.

Now, whether or not you're a fan of watching the show each year or not is irrelevant to this story. I happen to think of the Oscars as my Superbowl, as in even if I'm not a fan of anyone who might win, I'll still watch for the spectacle of it all, not like my biggest night of the year. And not to sound like a whiny Winnie, but the quality of films made in the past few years is akin to the quality of wine I can afford (read: lowbrow). In this harsh economy the movies that studios are investing in tend to be crowd-pleasing, star-studded bore-fests (or plotless action flicks), not new ideas (and no, I don't think that The Kids Are All Right was innovative or forward-thinking, I think that it was a movie that should have been made ten years ago to deserve those accolades, and I understand that it wasn't, which shows its perseverance, but it was full of A-listers and, honestly, full of, appropriate, but still abundant cliches about alternative families, California, and way too much in the way of trendy liberalism–which I'm sure is rooted in honest-to-goodness good intent, but is just too easy for me to buy or care about. PS: I actually kind of liked the movie.) or new faces. Yes, I'm biased because I'm a young actor trying to get her foot in the door in a very incestuous, incredibly self-serving, self-perpetuating, business. And I stress the word business because that is what it is, and what it has to be these days; studios can't lose millions of dollars, because then they lose credibility, and money and power, and no one wants to lose that.

ANYWAY, where I'm going with all of this (do I even remember after that Kids Are All Right rant? Have I mentioned that I love Julianne Moore? Each and every freckle of talent on that woman. And of course Annette...of course. Good God, I need to stop rambling, or just go to sleep) is that I was at these 83rd Annual Academy Awards today. Yes, ma'am, I was on the red carpet, I was at the Kodak Theatre, I was " Ello!"-d by Russell Brand. Was I happy about it? No. Was I wearing shine-able, no-slip black shoes, a tie and unflattering slacks? Yes. Did I feel like I was in a boring episode of Party Down where no one is drunk and the lead character's hangover doesn't come with Lizzie Caplan's dry wit? Fo' sho.

Back it UP and write in sentences not questions, please? Surely. Today I catered the Oscars. I was working at the end of the red carpet holding a [absurdly heavy] tray of Moet & Chandon Imperial Champagne. Last night I co-hosted a party at my home and surrounding areas that included a keg of beer, a fire pit, and a plethora of Oreos. This resulted in today's "festivities" including severe liver and kidney pain, headache, and...umm...fatigue? (aka: a hangover). It was also about 50º in LA, which sounds all balmy to those of you stuck in the snow back east, but is really frickin freezing when you're not wearing a jacket or a scarf and you're in an open air building with the wind blasting through and you're carrying a cold aluminum tray, no haters. I'm not trying to be a brat or anything, but I think I'm done with catering here in Hollywood. I have enough other income now that I'm more settled and I honestly just can't stomach the thought of having to, quite literally, serve the people who I want to work alongside (or replace...because we all know that Portman won herself some maternity leave tonight). Maybe that's the wrong attitude, maybe I have to pay my dues, but I don't think so, and I'll tell you this much, I don't plan on stepping one foot on that red carpet ever again, unless I have an invitation and a pair of Louboutins.

Oh, and I'm pretty sure it's a sign that when I left I nearly killed myself. Briefly: I was running (hey, I was freezing) to my car in the parking garage with such excitement ("IgettoleaveandI'mgonnaorderthaifoodandkickstartthedvrandputonmymansweaterandsweatpants!!") that I didn't even NOTICE the curb separating the parking spots and straight up ATE PAVEMENT flying over it. So...now I have nice abrasions, cuts and bruises on both sides and all extremities of my body. Clumsy, for the win!

Okay, now it really is bedtime. I hope you all enjoyed that journey. (That was too long, huh? Sorry)

A

Blogging and Social Networking...What does it all mean?!

The irony of this article, written for the New York Times yesterday about blogging, lies in the article itself (and almost all articles). The title of the article is "Blogs Wane as the Young Drift to Sites Like Twitter", hmmm, let's blog about it.

For those of you who've managed to make it this far reading, the article basically says that with social networking sites at our fingertips, and all of our friends, family, lovers, ex-lovers, and even pets, already linked in, what's the point of a "long form" blog? If you only read the first few paragraphs of Kopytoff's article, that is what you'll walk away with, but what they're really saying is that blogging and social networking sites can work to aid one another. What's left of substantial "conversation" on the internet is still occurring on blogs (for the most part, obviously news sites aside) but the traffic to these blogs wouldn't be nearly what it is without the ability to self-promote blog posts and the like on sites like Twitter and Facebook.

I, personally, have chosen not to post my blog address on my Facebook and I do not post blog updates on my news feed, but I do Tweet blog updates and have the address listed in my Twitter profile. What's the difference? I'm "friends" with my extended family on Facebook, with people from High School who I haven't communicated with in six or seven years, other than to "accept" their friend request, and with an African stranger who spoke to me on 10th avenue one day, told me that he worked at D'Agostinos and asked for my email address because he needed friends in America. I don't want all of them reading my blog. My Twitter is reserved for close friends and internet admirers, stalkers, friends, and I communicate with other bloggers via Twitter. Most of my blog traffic comes from Twitter or my gchat statuses (not sure where posting a gchat status ranges on the social networking scale, but it certainly counts for something).

So what does this mean? Is this just another reaffirmation of the fact that the millennial generation is full of ADD-ridden, image obsessed, socio-phobic, electronically-obsessed, fast food-filled, coffee addicts? The latest marketing techniques for eReaders and iPads are magazine and newspaper-centric and stray away from the idea of reading books. So, does this mean that in our short-form culture long-form thinking and/or writing is becoming obsolete? Is anyone even still reading this or did you all stop after "ex-lovers"? I know that there are still people out there who believe in literature, people who aren't fifty or simply jumping on the bandwagon of the local farmers' market chit-chat while contemplating their pending order from Pottery Barn, but young people with charisma, and chutzpah, and goals. Most of those people have blogs, but who reads them? Is there enough of an audience to sustain a thought that lasts longer than 140 characters? What is happening?

Please, leave your comments. I am very, very eager to see what other people think of this.

A

Rain in the Hills

It's been raining in LA.

There’s something undeniably jarring about rain in Los Angeles. It’s as if the purpose of the city has fallen to the wayside and all inhabitants are forced to acknowledge their humanity and the fact that a world exists outside the car window. The veil of sunshine has dropped to the floor and your creaking windshield wipers perform their duty. A man huddles beneath the lip of the roof, illuminated by the neon “cocktails” sign above and the glowing gas prices in the distance. The monotony of the buildings lining the wide boulevards echoes itself for miles; the architectural nonchalance of a city built without a basement.

My mind wanders; over mountains, down rivers, trudging across massive plains, lingering in cities, landing at the other edge, the eastern edge. The colors dull and brighten and the land takes a deep, yogic breath. The bridges rise and fall again, carrying me home; swept past tired, old buildings, rumbling underneath it all in the warm tunnels, the maze and emerging again, back at square 2B. Somehow always back to 3^rd street, where the rain was just rain and the people, people, the humanity stuffed into the pockets of their jackets and no windshield wipers to rust, just stale, comfortable air. There’s no signs for the cocktails, no neon, only milling crowds flocking to never-empty corners and green street signs adorned with familiar names and numbers. The faces you can’t forget, the people who are just this very moment, forgetting your face and the tone of your voice, letting you be forgotten, left a vague memory, stuck in the muted LA rain with only your windshield wipers.

Memories of V-Days Past

Valentine's Day has always plagued me. In fourth grade the "cute boy" (now the kid who posts excessively Zionist/anti-Islamic jargon repeatedly on Facebook) gave the most popular girl a beanie baby with a heart on it, or something, and I went home feeling sad and rejected. In high school, I whined about not getting sent carnations from the boys I wanted them from in homeroom, until I did, and received THREE of them from the same boy who I was letting touch my boobs for a few months, who I later realized had another girlfriend. Not me, but someone else also. Thanks. Then I spent another Valentine's Day wondering why the guy that I was making out with upstairs at parties, but wasn't sure that I actually liked at all, didn't send me ANY carnations. And then senior year I got one, from my boyfriend, and it was sweet and then we had a "secret" sleepover at our friends' house whose parents were cool with these things, until they weren't and we had to sleep on the floor in the bedroom with the other couple.

After that it got bad. All four years of college were spent lamenting my status as a single at dinners with other single girls, whining about not being anyone's date to any stupid formal, or worse, going as a friend and trying to hit on other people's dates. And then I graduated, and started working in restaurants, and then Valentine's Day became great. It was a way to rape and pillage happy couples of their money while serving them overpriced specials and champagne "deals", and I didn't have to worry about whether I was dating someone or not, because I was on the schedule to work either way.

Last year my boyfriend and I had only been together a short time and I had no idea what Valentine's Day protocol would be, so I asked him if he minded if I worked that night. I maintain that that question is one of the major reasons he wanted to continue to date me. This year, he's out of town (which I okay-ed, more than once, and never once threatened to hold against him) and I'm working, as I mentioned last night and I already have my little present, and that's fine.

Valentine's Day is silly. There's no reason to whine if you're alone, or wear black in protest, or talk about watching "The Notebook" on repeat, and there's no reason to sit in an overpriced restaurant, basically on top of other couples awkwardly trying to have whatever you deem a "romantic" conversation.

Maybe I'm a cynic, or, finally, a pessimist, but LOVE isn't something that concerns me so much anymore. To have someone who compliments you, who forces you to grow and push yourself, who you can share with, and who you can rely on, that is what is important. That person need not be a romantic attachment. Sure, that's the goal, and we'd all love to find the person whose presence makes our knees buckle and our mouths water, but there's so much love and support in the world with friends, family and even strangers, that we are all strong enough to make it on our own. Love is nothing more than a way to verbalize a feeling of comfort. So let's all be comfortable in our own skin and strive to make others feel the same way.

Remember, this Valentine's Day, you are loved. And come have some all-you-can-eat tacos...

A