Getting Rich

So there I was at a 420 pool party, minding my own business, when a vision appeared before me in the pool. I was definitely staring. I felt something electric pulse through my body, a deep-seated, biological recognition of something that was mine, or should be. But who was he? Was he single? Does he think I'm pretty? 

I made friends quickly with everyone there, but one girl in particular glommed onto me. She immediately began discussing this gorgeous man and her intentions to have him as well. Apparently there was a line of girls before me, each declaring their dibs, hoping for a chance to catch the attention of this aloof man. "Are we sure he's not gay?" I asked, he was ignoring all these bikini-clad beauties after all. I was assured that he was extremely far from this on the old spectrum and that was good enough for me. 

I knew I had caught his eye several times, and when I happened to mention being single for the last seven months, he very visibly perked up. I tried to give him every opportunity to ask me out, but because I had shown up with a friend who also has a penis (probably, I wouldn't know, but I'm assuming) he respected some man code and left me alone.

So alone I was... but I couldn't stop thinking about him. Rich... Rich. I knew there must be a way to get him a message about my interest. I'm still a lady, I don't want to do any heavy lifting and prefer to be pursued, but he is just a man and probably could use a hint. I requested his facebook friendship, but this was somehow too vague. This never would have been a problem on Myspace... I then enlisted a friend to text him about my curiosity which quickly turned into a high-school-note-passing situation. She took several days to get in touch with him, unbeknownst to me, so I agonized for almost a week. Why wasn't he interested? Who the hell did he think he was? Didn't he know we were meant to be?

My fears were finally put to rest when he immediately responded to get my number. Happy dance! And then he called the next day. And we talked for over an hour. We couldn't get together for a whole other week (sigh), but we made plans to eat at my favorite sushi place and he called me two more times before then. I guess he got the memo--er--novel on how to navigate me. Everything was perfect. 

May the fourth could not come soon enough. I had butterflies the entire day. Okay, he's attracted to me, right? Right?! But will he like me? Oh, god... He has to. I need him to claim me, stick a fork in me, stick a flag in me, dear god, please stick something inside of me. I planned to abandon all my "rules" about dating and waiting. I am in my sexual peak and it's been too long. Way too long. I was hoping he wouldn't do anything stupid enough to turn me off like so many before him.

He didn't. It was amazing and everything and beyond words. I didn't even care if I never heard from him again. I got what I needed. What I NEEDED. When he got up in the middle of the night I braced myself for the inevitable creep, but he surprised me by coming back to bed. And asking me to breakfast. And spending the whole next day with me. Our date turned into a weekend turned into the most incredible relationship I have ever had. 

How did I get Rich? Just by being my authentic self and giving myself permission to do all the things I wanted to do without judgement. Turns out Oprah was right; follow your joy. Maybe money can't buy you happiness, but getting Rich is a great place to start... and hopefully, finish. 

On the Road Again...

Things go back on the market in Los Angeles all the time: Sprawling estates of the rich and famous, that store front next to the hotdog place that never has a business for more than a few months, and well, me. As the president of my own corporation, I have to decide what sort of business I'm running here. What are my projections; what's my five-year plan?

Luckily, I've never had any plans to start a family, so that ticking clock can knock itself out. I do, however, enjoy the companionship and intimacy that comes from close relationships. Oh, and sex. Unfortunately, L.A. is also known for its lazy men. So where can a girl go to get chased these days?

I've tried to have friends set me up with single guys they know. Then I realized that my friends hate me, or at least don't get me. As soon as I reject their offerings they tell me it's probably just as well since he just got out of prison, is still technically married to his third wife and now lives back at home with his mother until he can get a handle on his coke problem.

All roads lead to online dating. I tried Plenty of Fish for a month, but it's a free site full of perverts and looky-loos. Even though I thought I was marketing myself as a lady, I wasn't being approached with any dignity or grace, so I took responsibility for that and started over on Match. I only put up a few candid shots, not showing any skin. I got about 15 emails in a month, compared to over 1,000 on the other site. Though none of them were too interesting, at least they were well written and thoughtful. But I needed some action, cause Match ain't cheap. So I posted one flirtatious pose and received an immediate influx of offers. Ironically, some of the very same men who had previously written me, or ones that were double-dipping from Plenty of Fish, wrote me again. This time, the emails were mostly "Hey how r u" with no punctuation to speak of. I might be getting more attention from men now, but even though my profile is intelligent and witty, they are only looking at the picture, not even realizing I'm the same girl that they devoted an opus to, and I am now worth little more than a fragmented sentence comprised of mainly letters.

But, hey--it takes pressure to make a diamond, right? The market will stabilize. In the mean time, being single is fabulous!

Strong and Black

All the coffee propaganda doesn't really sway me. Something really bad would have to be associated with my favorite bean to make me give it up. The headline would have to read "Coffee goes on a hate crime killing spree then rapes itself to death at a local school." Pretty good chance I would switch to tea after that. Until then...

What a FOMO!

You know those people, always on their phone, checking Instagram and Facebook even while they're already out with all their friends. The ones that straggle at the party, afraid something awesome will happen the moment they leave. Or the peeps that won't RSVP to your Evite in case something better comes up. These are the FOMOs: Fearful Of Missing Out. Hey guy, don't be such a fomo.

Junk in the Trunk

A reader for Miramax passed on the script for Good Will Hunting. It just goes to show you, there's no accounting for taste. And there's always some idiot who wouldn't know cinematic gold if it sat on their face...

To be, damn it!

The life of an artist is filled with highs and lows, twists and turns. Somewhere along the way, we all trip over questions about what we are doing and why on Earth we are doing it. There are thousands of people competing for every role, however small, and "no" is the watchword. Workshops are expensive and filled with the unmistakable stench of desperation. Some of us are really only getting a creative fix in a class setting, which is also a hardship on the wallet and fulfilling to none. We try to glean more opportunities by self-submitting everywhere possible, but how many of these breakdowns say that pay is non-applicable or that they will be distributing on YouTube? Really?! But anything beats a cubicle and a dread of Mondays, at least most of the time.

So, how do you beat the doldrums, uncertainties and pitfalls into despair? The good news is, this is not an entirely unique position for artists. The average Joe will question where they are in their lives periodically, and others will struggle to ever find a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Passion will dwindle, fires will cool. What is left at the end of the day? Even if the motivation changes, if the driving need for creative release exists, it must be honored. This is not about fame, but rather hard work, skill and conditioning to be camera-ready. There are countless talented people that never find their way through those important doors. We got agents, made it into the union and have resumes that no one cares about. How can we be in service to our art when the gatekeepers are so savvy at only allowing those in the clique to make it inside the room?

All the doubt piles on until a breaking point is reached and the world goes dark. It's like losing your first tooth. Part of you is dangling there, looking foreign and unwelcoming. The pain is excruciating with no end in sight. You don't want to touch it or look at it or deal with it. Until the tooth finally falls out and upon reflection, you realize that wasn't so bad after all. Even the strongest walls can only withstand so much pressure before they crumble. The silver lining is that new teeth grow in, pain subsides and happiness is always available whenever you are ready for it. My best advice: Turn into the skid and accelerate.

L.A. Examiner Articles

A link to my Examiner articles... A worthy read.

http://www.examiner.com/user-erinrae-miller