Felicity on my mind.

So this intensely emotional couple of weeks have probably lead to why I have been watching reruns of Felicity, in order from the pilot. And it's like a hug on the inside. A big bear hug.
The music, the dialogue, I remember it all and I remember where I was when I was experiencing most episodes. Judge if you will, but this comfort also reminds me of the power of good writing in television.
20 year old me felt comforted and invested, just as I do now.
Along with these actors, time has passed, but I am damn grateful for my easy ability to fall back in to this whole time in my life. And though I'm basically the same Jennifer, I have lived that much more.

Exciting news about working in NY in January…so damn excited….and other things worth mentioning are happening, and in all of this,  I have to remember to care for my insides…because I take everything and everyone's junk on. And at times it can be too much, so in the end I am thankful for the intelligent and kind friends I have in my life at this very moment. I admire and love you.

And thanks Felicity, Noel, Ben, Julie, Megan, Pink Guy...
xJ

Lincoln…and my desire for more charming parables to come.

YES, I was one of the lucky few, as a member of the  SAG awards nom committee, who was invited to partake in an advanced screening of Lincoln! (much anticipated for on my part).
I am happy to report that it satiated my inner/outer history geek, and very possibly threw a coupla torches on the fire.
Daniel Day Lewis spoke with us after…magical. (yep, I said "magical" because I felt it was a fucking gift).
I woke up at about 6:30am today still thinking of Lincoln. I hit my imdbpro app, as I do often when I cannot sleep, and then looked at pictures of my sweet nephew Luke (which is also seemingly a thing I do when I cannot sleep)….
I craved more knowledge about Lincoln's cabinet.

Damn, it was cold in my home and I LOVED it.
About time. Only a minute until Thanksgiving, after all.
We lit the first fire of the season, I made tea AND coffee and wrapped myself in my grandmama's quilt and curled up next to the fire.
Studied for an upcoming audition, called my mama, laughed with new friends visiting, and mostly felt serenely wrapped in gratitude.

Tomorrow is a special screening of Skyfall. Ah, James Bond with a Heineken (of all things. The hell?!?!)
 I am so very happy…I suppose working on a new sitcom with actors I deem to be crazy funny/fun to work with can leave me experiencing a high for a few days to come. And then some.It is where I am meant to be.
xoxJennifer

Honey Boo Boo has a Loving Family and other strange social truths.

Tonight is the night before I fly out of Atlanta, which means leaving my 18 month old nephew, (Luke-who I am obsessed with)-- and thereby leaving my sis (my best friend and soul mate) and fun brother in law, and thus the South as a whole (friendly people, down to earthiness, and friendly accents) --well…what's it for exactly?
I am well aware that I've felt the pains of separation anxiety that leave me in tears and funk for a solid 2 or 3 days post family trips, however, this time around: why not?
First I think well, um HELLO JENNIFER: ya can't possibly pursue acting in any other place in the states but NYC and LA. (truth.) Let me share my thoughts even further with examples outside of myself who leave me questioning WHY the hell NOT?
Or perhaps I should state my idea of my life and who I desire to be:
I see myself surrounded by great love of family and friends who support me and I support them. I see mutual creativity and openness in thought; health and joy; financial abundance; lightness, living in NYC and LA.
It is easy but always compelling.
Humanitarian.
Travel. Everywhere. Open.
Newness, simple or grand.
Films.
Reading.
Working consistently on projects that excite me and bring to light my strengths, while challenging me  out of my own comfort zones.

AND THEN THIS COMES INTO MY MIND:
I know an extremely successful actress in a sitcom, making a few million, who is utterly miserable and alone. And has told me so. Many times. And I see it.

I also know (and care for) an entrepreneur who is deemed quite successful but is entirely unable to relate on an emotional level with another human except to criticize. He can't stop for a moment on the treadmill of his day to day--filling up his calendar with unnecessary stops, for fear he will feel any sort of pain.

I have another friend who has multiple successes career wise but she can't even see it or feel it, and deems most of them as failures. And is heading to a second divorce.

Another friend who has tremendous financial success in his own right,  but I only ever hear him describe himself as a "failed actor". He has more friends than most can count, but he's still 'meh' about life.

Before the two or three people who read my blog get worried---none of them even read this, and ya know what---if they did, then it could be a disarmingly good hint! :)

Because in LA, don't get me wrong, I have a real nice life, many happy moments and damn good experiences there, I do find myself getting worked up by so many flakey friends,
and silly girls who think they can suddenly take an acting class or two and call themselves actors.
This is gross to me. YUCK. EEK.
As Jimmy Kimmel said last night on the Emmy's : " The Brits trained at RADA and most americans were picked from the mall. "
Sad but true.

I'm a trained actor, from an actual conservatory,  so if the rest of ya'll could just fall back to middle america or wherever the place is where your parents will catch you then just go. to. there. Ah mediocrity. Go yonder. Waaaay yonder.

Got that out. That segway aside, I have made my point.

….And I still think of the one boy I fell in love with in lalaland a few years back, who was my best friend. We were together for a few years. We had a family. Of sorts. That part still sticks with me as something palpable.

Sometimes I feel like I'm flailing when I look into my nephew's eyes and I think:

WHY THE HELL NOT.

Performing the magic tonight!

Awesome mention in the ADVOCATE today!

http://www.advocate.com/arts-entertainment/hot-sheet/2012/08/17/hot-sheet-august-17-2012?page=0,5

Youtube comments make me giggle loudly.

• Randomly came across this--re: Munchie Mobile/Jack in the Box Spot.

  Think I found my husband.

  
  

  
  

  craazy good. I would put my errr in her arhh.

  zer02oo5 4 months ago

I can feel it in my bones….

I miss the south. I need a good, honest to god real life vacation.
I don't honestly know the last time I had one. At all.
Sidebar: what even made me wanna write this: I can hear my neighbors playing bean bag toss right below my window. They are a young-ish boyfriend/girlfriend couple who now live in what was once a good friend of mine's place. They are not want to be very friendly, which confuses me, and also reminds me of how I miss the south. They are in no way southerners, as this would not in fact occur if they were.
When my ex lived here with me, we invited everyone over for any sort of social gathering that involved more than the 2 of us. There must be at least 30 people over at their place, and they're mostly collected in the driveway.
I may sound like a hostile, crotchety ole neighbor, but this is simply an example of weird human behavior I've been witnessing first hand quite often this past week in particular.

Another sidebar: 3 of my favorite bands are all playing at Atlanta Midtown Music Festival. Best present ever--putting this out to the universe--would be 2 VIP tickets to the event. Better yet, me being able to buy a group of my friends I grew up with--who I share this history/love of these bands with--to be able to get a couple of them the tickets as well. It's happening in September…and I can't wait.
Ya only have this one life and my how it passes so fast.
Jennifer

Louis Louis Louis C.K.

This man. This man. This man.
I am in love
with
This man.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ig5K0ImYtp0&feature=related

these guys make me wanna have a family.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IthXOVp-K5I&feature=related

I just wanna post that this is bullshit.

Ya know what. I miss my friend Ben Barfoot. And nothing can bring him back, and I am so fucking angry about that. And at him. And at it all. And I'm pissed at his ass for leaving and, well, making it so that I put him in this place in my universe that I wanna discuss these ridiculous things going on….and I feel that with his apt summations, he would get the humor and the gist of it all…and in the end, as was protocol with Ben…, I wouldn't feel so very alone. As I do now.

Do not get me wrong. I know I hold him in a certain place of expectation, but well, once you are completely alone in a place that on midnight you arrive, September 11th happens….and he keeps you company and is the only feeling of safe that you can possibly feel…..that holds a lot of weight for this girl.

Something about driving by Camelot Music er whatever the hell it was called maybe at the same time Greg Folkes was also there ….on McGhee road (across from Mgm Mall), when I was maybe 17 and would drive by and see(or not see) his brown pick up truck. Even typing this on my totally inane blog lessens it.

Remember that feeling of total rush to the skin, simplistic fucking thrills, even without the caffeine? I remember diving in fountains downtown Montgomery, 123 Coosa Street, Pajama Jammie Jams, shrooms, beer, and on and on, and hopping roof tops with Bobby Bowen…and being terrified but just going with the flow…or @ Hank William's grave... just touching the stone with a hint of reverence...and sharin beers…where yer like 16….Because that time to me was so specific. And heightened. That even now, I can hardly write about it. Because when I do, there's so much that is missing. The band room. Driving in my first car, red toyota corolla, and being so very enamored with Brian Hinton, and Josh, the morman hottie band mate. We had our space heater, white lights, and music. And that was heaven to me. Truly. Downtown Wetumpka, just me and Brian, slow dancing to Jimmy Hendrix, and the first I heard of Tracy Chapman's fast car.He smoked clove cigarettes and to this day it still makes my knees buckle.

I told him I was gonna move to New York and he didn't get it.

I remember being sad about that because he had introduced me to the allman brothers and well, if he didn't get it, well. (i dunno how to finish that sentence)..funny how much I edit myself. Over and over.

Mary's Pet Rock, Andy jackson, joe maracek, and those kinda things. These memories are a few of my favorite things….

Ever since I was pretty young I felt the need to keep an account of things….a journal of sorts…a hard and fast internal rule of keeping things that reminded me of the times I was happy. Because I felt I would disappear early….pass away youngish.

And dammit that sucks.

The hardest part of that notion and instinct with me has always been that it would upset my mama and Susie.

wouldn't it be nice?

If we could be honest. I mean really, really honest with certain aspects of our lives? How good would that feel? Imagine…pretty damn good.

Let's go with the idea that this is a series of phrases and ideas…moments in time that may or may not be fictional;) That was a wink.

Ok. Go:

Size does matter.

So does being witty.

And confident.

And not addicted.

Being unkind is the most disgusting quality I find in a person. And am still baffled by this

type of personality still existing and not being cancelled out by society. Call me naive, call me a musical theatre major, but I have the strongest conviction that there's good in everyone.

Being organized.

Being clean matters. When your space is messy (on all accounts, boo-ya) it's clear your head is a hot mess.

Truly engaging another person.

The last guy I dated never once gave me an orgasm.

I've had 12 in a row (not by that guy).

Smile. Seriously ya'll, smile.

Most asians should not drive ever.

I went there. If you were offended, well, you probably bump your head often, find Mitt Romney a valid candidate, and will stop reading before the end of this sentence.

Stereotypes exist for a reason: BECAUSE THEY ARE TRUE.

Never let a girl pay on a first date.

Chivalry does exist.

Ryan Gosling and Jon Hamm are the most attractive male celebrities by far at this moment in time.

Not having an inherit opinion on music = contributing nil to society and/or your DNA has a lazy eye.

Certainty. Never leave home without it.

Thoughts become things so dammit stop being so negative because I don't wanna hear it and no one else you know wants to either.

Loyalty is everything, so stop pretending it's not.

Gay men always favor big booby girls who know how to apply makeup.

Everyone knows those are hair extensions. Just have short hair, or be patient while it grows.

If you never had to have a job, and you consider yourself wealthy/successful, well stop fooling yourself. The only thing you succeeded in was that you won the MOST RANDOM lottery of being born in a first world nation.(sidebar: and had parents who decided to not challenge you because of their own guilt in their "difficult upbringing".)

Birds scare me.

And so do awkward men who dress like women. (because I start to get sad, and think how do you not know that you are trying so much harder than any living female around, to be feminine, and yet never are…. have bad wigs and nails, and very large feet.)

Men who eat alone make me cry.

Preaching atheism is as gross as preaching any other religion that ever existed. Not knowing this is the crux of ignorance.

Childhood is as good as it feels it gets.

The first man who truly loves you is your dad.

The only boy who will always love you is your son.

Social awkwardness is still, bless your heart, being awkward in relating to human beings.

…..and more. Funny how easy it is to censor yourself in your own tiny blog.

So, yeah it's still with me.

The best love song I've heard in a while.

It's new. And it's genuine.

And so good it hurts….

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iGVAHKz2hgA

Heartbreaker and Screw the Naysayers.

After seeing Ryan Adams tonight downtown at Disney Concert Hall (yep I said Disney, blargh), I'm, as usual, when it comes to any interaction with him: inspired. We first met about 12 years ago at a Beachwood Sparks concert in the heat of the summer in NYC at Mercury Bar. Holy hell that was 12 years ago.

Long story short, short story long, those coupla years I wrote voraciously. It was as if his energy of writing in such a seemingly easy way had penetrated (whoopsy) my nervous system, and, well, I felt compelled to write. And write. And sing and write some more. I became more serious about studying guitar. It was flowing out of me. And is part of why I mostly prefer to only hang out with people who make me rise up to my very best without even knowing they are doing it.

They simply exist as these talented, intensely focused individuals who hold up a mirror and truly inspire us, as in not next week, month, year, but NOW.

Sidebar: seeing Ryan perform tonight after he hasn't been performing for about 4 years, and at such a venue as Disney, where the rules are strict and actually followed, and the drinks are friggin 12 bucks for a teeny tiny red wine ….was a bit hard to digest. I saw 2 pregnant, suburban-ish married women in the bathroom in the course of about 2 minutes. Yucky older guys in collared shirts, bad short haircuts and wives who equally came across as giving up on life and/or being unaware that they are stepping outside of the minivan for a public outing.

At the same time, damn how I am happy for you Ryan. Really really. By far one of the most charming, damn funny, sexy, and truly talented fellas I have ever met.

And the POINT I suppose I'm getting at is where is this tipping point?

How many folks out there are possibly as good as Ryan when they play alone, in their bedrooms, to themselves? The difference therein lies in the fear- the tipping point.

It's all the times I've been freely writing, inspired, and then the voice comes in: "well Kurt Cobain or Michael Stipe…or Dylan…or Ryan wrote their souls out on the page, digging in the trenches so that we might sit back and listen and say "that's my story."…" And then I put down my pen and coward away.

That's the difference, right there.

Now that Ryan is sober, and wow does it make a real breathtaking difference: in his vocals, temperament, and consistency as a musician…but it also has made him more fearful and naked. Funny how the fear creeps up EVEN when you've written a few desert island albums, Elton John and Keith Richards adore ya, and well on and on, and you stare at your shoes because you realize that being sober in this expressive, openly broken hearted way doesn't give you any guarantee of acceptance.

And there he is tonight, in his charming, self deprecating way, making fun of how he's here to sing sad songs about miserable heartbreak and they can all be "sung simply in A minor and singing the phrase "And I just wanted to be loved!!"

I want to challenge myself to ignore those damn annoying voices that shut me down from just the doing. I want to commit to digging in the trenches even more now. To just allowing, because lord knows Ryan does not sit there, as the words are flying out of him, and judge and correct. I know because I've been right there by his side as he writes. And writes. And makes it seem so easy. And it is. If you just don't fucking judge. Don't get me wrong now, of course he judges the details AFTER he's let it flow.

I can go to bed tonight, reliving tonight's performance. I literally felt I'd been through some emotional whirlwind. My body felt it and my eyes were wet. My friend who sat by me also felt what I felt: thrown into such specific times of Heartbreaker, hearing English Girls are Mean live…and some of Easy Tiger on the piano. Still had to just take a deep breath after writing that sentence.

Not for the sake of nostalgia, but for real emotions tied into his songs. Events, moments in time, minutiae, details, smells, ways of being in the world.

And as I said, per usual with Ryan, I am ever inspired, and this time it's reminding myself to finish these particular projects that I've shied away from because of early judgement of myself. Stop it. See the greatness before you. What's the difference from Ryan and anyone else you may perceive to be truly magical at what they do? What's the difference? Hours and mornings and months and years of persistence, and having such a force of knowing. That this must be done.

Screw all the naysayers. It's not even in the room.