Thursday, February 22, 2007

A Shifty Feeling

Today marks the year anniversary since I started working with my agency. That also means I've been back home in LA for a year, since I moved back for this job. I've been with my boyfriend for almost a year now too. A lot has happened in the past year, yet I have no clue where all that time went. Oh yes, I officially still live with my father after a year of being back, and my lack of closet space means that, after a year, I am still technically living out of boxes.

I think some changes are in order. I'd really like my own place, but not paying rent is just too sweet. I feel like I'm in high school again; he's going out of town for fifteen days and I am just SO excited.

I think I'm hanging out at my sisters at some point this weekend, so I get to play with my adorable neices and nephew, which is exciting.

Other things too.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Loveline

I got to sit in on a taping of Loveline last week. I booked a couple of our clients on the show, reality TV stars. I think it was the first time I actually pitched a client out for an interview and got it, so I felt really special and kind of accomplished. It was pretty cool hanging out at the table, wearing headphones and chatting with Dr. Drew.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Poetry, Idle Moments

I wrote this a little over a year ago. It's very suggestive, which is not common in my writing. Yet the image I had in my head while writing it was so peaceful and innocent, which is interesting. My creative writing teacher told me this was "beautifully languid" but then basically deemed it crap because he couldn't tell what was going on in it, that there are too many "he, she, and it's" and no real subject. I didn't know how to explain that the poem was written based on a fleeting feeling of deja vu.

Anyway, I normally don't share this sort of stuff, unless it's anonymous, so if you're reading this blog, tread lightly please...


A whiff of my boundary stood thick in the air
Of a humid night,
Silently writhing within a glaring stare.
Sitting there, her curls stuck to her moistened cheek
And her long layers, softly lingering, fell loosly upon her knee.
Standing air,
That thick wall of separation,
Cut the room in two
And blue, I could barely see you
Witnessing my fascination.
Her image fades from my thoughts at night
As chances of being caught,
Aloof in my mind,
Raise high the roofbeams of exhausted time.
And threaded flowers decorate this desertion of life and vigilance
Rested atop a decrepit pedestal of lofty sentiment,
As the memory of a lost summer day -
Of a rotating metal fan
That does not cool
but gently freshens the glistening speckles on her heat-heavy chest -
Whispers of this sweetly envisaged scene.
Amidst the thick, she sits:
Sticky skin from the beating sun,
thighs and shoulder blades pressed against all that's beneath,
Arms espoused with her weathered wooden chair,
Shiny and slick, basking in the afternoon haze.