Today was beautiful. 85 degrees in Los Angeles. And you know how I hate sunny days, but I really couldn’t complain. I had lunch with Michelle down in Manhattan Beach. She’s working on a project for Jet Li with that producer I’d introduced her to, and I’m really hoping that it’ll all work out. We were talking about destiny so here’s a really cool little example of the cycle of fate:

1995–a classmate of mine, Jen Wu, invites me to her house to watch some Chinese Kung Fu movies. When I show up, we have a Jet Li marathon because she’s “in love” with him. These were the first movies of his that I had ever seen. This is the beginning of our friendship, and we keep in touch during college.

2002-I take a UCLA writing class and when I show up, there’s another Asian girl (Michelle)there and the only seat available is next to her. So when we go around introducing ourselves, I go first. I say, I grew up in the bay area, went to school at the U. of Michigan and now I’m out here writing. She’s next. She says, “Well, this is going to sound weird, but I also grew up in the bay area and went to school at the U. of Michigan and am out here writing.” Later, the class draws numbers for partnering up. Eerily, we draw the same number and are partners. Later, it turns out that her cousin is Jen Wu.

2004-I’m introduced to a producer by Taron, who was trying to give me a hard time in front of this guy (he tells him that I want to be an actress). I tell him I’m actually a writer and he says that he’s a producer. I ask him what he’s produced and he says, “The Hulk with Ang Lee.” I tell him, “Holy cow, I know Ang Lee! I sat in on the first day of editing for Crouching Tiger!” So we start talking about Ang and his family and I ask him what he’s working on now. He says that he’s looking for a project for Jet Li. Immediately, I know that he needs to talk to Michelle because she has a psychological thriller with an Asian American protagonist and the project would be perfect for Jet. So I tell him about it and I get Michelle on the phone and we have a really good meeting the next day.

Today–So Michelle and I are eating lunch and we’re talking about The One, one of Jet’s more recent movies and about how they’ve changed the name of her script to the same name as Jet’s new video game. Then I start laughing. I just realized that Michelle’s script had been called, “The Next One.” Jet makes The One, and Michelle writes, The Next One. It sounds like a sequel even though it’s different and better.

It’s funny how things unfold. Maybe life isn’t so random.

Oh God.

I thought I was stronger than this.

I thought I could walk up to a guy in a crowded bar, grab his hand and say, “Let’s do body shots and make out,” then do what needs to be done and let it go at that–just another good night’s conquest–before moving on to normal things like scrubbing the bathroom floors and cutting out coupons from the Sunday paper the next morning. You know, what bona fide studs do on weekends.

But somehow, I have turned into a quivering blob of girl obsessed.

I just went over the photos taken from that infamous family night out and holy goddam! Just found the sexiest photo I’ve ever taken stashed between random innocuous candids. I mean, my friends as my witnesses, I’ve got this dysfunctional love affair with my camera and have taken some pretty crazy sexy freaky cool innappropriate photos…me as Taloofa Jankins with a Loofah stuffed down hot pink butthuggers, me pretending to sodomize Lauren with a beer bottle, me having a hot black man caress my bare stomach with his tongue and hundreds upon hundreds of spanking photos…

But this one…this one eats the whole damn cake, stripper inside and all. If I had the technical capabilities, I’d post this photo but I don’t…but I mean, GODDAM! It makes a religious woman out of me! Worshipping some rock hard granite idol with phallic symbols of gargantuan proportions and praying for blessed rain in private nether regions.

……………….

I need to see this mystery man again. If only to show him our captured moment of debauchery and slap him a high five. Though, I can not guarantee his safety.

A Saturday with the place alone has turned into MAD SCIENTIST NIGHT!

Details aside, I’m about to listen to a tape with Theta frequencies that are supposed to simulate the dream state.

Thought:

Have you ever noticed there’s no future in dreams? Only a present and sometimes a past. When we recount dreams later, we make assumptions like, “we were waiting at the bus stop”…because we were going to get on the bus. But that’s a detail that we add in hindsight.

I think a future already exists once the present circumstances fall in a way that allows it to exist. So in a sense, there do exist alternate “realities” which are these futures that were not the ones that actually deveoped. Because all reality is subjective, therefore, if the conscious believed a future possible, then in theory, it has to exist. For example, You are walking down a straight road. YOu can see the end of the road. You come to a crossroad and decide to turn right and take this other road. Does the first road and its continuation cease to exist when you turned, even though you can no longer see it? No. We can prove empirically that it is still there. So within different dimensional parameters, it’s possible that once a “future” is created, or a path that someone can walk down, even if circumstances do not allow this future to be traveled and the person’s life turns in a different direction, that “future” must still exist.

Tangible things are paradigms for showing us how things beyond our perception work. The most brilliant people in our history had a particular skill in creating, analyzing and understanding analogies.

Okay, just spent the last 5 hours putting together a track…mixed in some Maya Angelou poetry, a Malcolm X speech and Springsteen’s Streets of Philadelphia with some phat beats and it came out pretty well. Last night’s Kelis vs. Black Eyed Peas on the other hand, is a different story.

I’ve put myself under house arrest tonight because I’ve been going a little bit crazy with the social scene lately, and I need to calm the f*k down. But if anyone wants to come over to smoke and make out tonight…I’m just kidding. Been playing around with Acid 4.0, making my own beats. Getting high off of liquid crack (Sobe’s No Fear). One day, mama, I’ll be a better man.

Have you guys seen Craig’s List? It’s the craziest site. There needs to be social studies done on it. I’ve used it a few times for posting project related things, but I just started reading some of the postings and I’m realizing they’ve got an interesting online community there. The craziest phenomenon I’ve noticed, is how people use the public postings to communicate to other people, being very cryptic about it. You watch couples fight, write love letters to each other, or send private messages to each other. There are bitter singles writing “letters never sents” to exes. There are people who are lonely and just want to be heard. And there are the perverts who’d like to fuck them.

The Missed Connections sections is the best. It’s like psychic people watching. You read their correspondences and you can almost see their lives and their minds, as well as their hopes and urges and fears.

Some people have been asking lately, who reads my blog. To be honest, I have no idea. Only a handful of close friends and a few acquaintances know about it. I guess the rest is comprised of strangers. It’s kind of nice to get a random comment though. I really like visiting other people’s sites who see the world in a similar way. Anyway, I just write this thing because it’s therapeutic for me and it keeps me going with the creativity in my other projects. I write this thing for me and not for other people, but if you happen to like reading it, I really appreciate it.

Um…lost train of thought…anyway (can you guys tell what state I’m in?) … in honor of Craig’s List, and the drive people have to put personal messages in a public forum where someone may or may not see them, here are little cryptic messages to the people in my life.

* You’re my angel. I was a shithead for being so mean to you for so many years, but you taught me, more than anyone about what it means to love unconditionally. You always stood up for me and I never stood up for you. Because I hated you. And I wanted you to feel pain. And for that, no apology will ever be grand enough for what I have done. Somedays I wish you would look me in the eye and connect, just for a moment, and tell me that you truly forgive me, or hate me, or love me, or anything. Just one moment of a connection so that I know that you really UNDERSTAND. I love you more than I’ll ever find the ways to express.

*Why wouldn’t you just explain things to me? Why were you so goddam mean? I just wanted someone who would explain things to me and instead, you scared the shit out of me.

*Your smile lit up my day. But I’m afraid because you’re so much smarter than me.

*Buttercup, dear, what would Subject A do if Subject B & C & D stopped flashing their overaged titties and realized that Subject A is a total flaming closet case?

*Be good in Hawaii. I got your message about being hit on by men who were a disgusting cross between Roman Polanski and Donald Trump. Damn. Hook me UP!
I miss you so much.

*The Master plan. You know I think the world of you. But let’s take it slowly with the Master Plan.

*I’m so proud of your new job. I really hope this one makes you a lot happier. It sounds like a really positive move and I’m so glad, because I really wish you had more good things in your life.

*Girl, you crack me up. You’ve a lot of friends. And we all love you. Why don’t you ever call me?

*Dude, don’t even power trip. You know what you want. Who’s the one who’s afraid?

*I know you’re scared and trying to not deal with it. But another kid is a scary thing. Find that strength inside you. You’ll be okay.

*Remember that dream that I told you I had about you? I’m worried sometimes. Let me know that you’re okay because I’m afraid to ask.

*I know what you’ve said. I can’t believe how you can lie to yourself about so much. And to disrespect me along with yourself by saying those things. I really can’t believe you. I have lost all respect for you. I would cut off your hand before I give you mine.

*Bitch, I ain’t even talkin’ to you.

*Yeah, I would like to meet up with you in Italy this summer. I don’t know why I’m so bad at corresponding with you. I think it’s because talking to you makes me happy, and I’m not ready yet to be a happy person.

*I’m in love with you. And I don’t really want to do anything about it. I just like that it’s there, and I like that you’re there, and it makes me think, what a beautiful world it is.

*I went by your place tonight on my way home. Don’t like that I can’t contact you. I was mad when I left but I had no idea where you were coming from. I wish I had left a number.

*Hmmmm. Really think you’re creepy.

*He signed the letter, ps–I’m not gay. I think that’s REALLY funny.

*You’re married but I know you’ve thought about it. It doesn’t bother me.

*I miss you. I’m sorry I didn’t go visit you when you were in the hospital. I was scared. And I know you were disappointed. I was just so scared of saying goodbye. And now I say goodbye to you every night.

*What you did, cut me down to my soul. And did you know, I still loved you for months afterwards? How much sense needed to be talked into me for me to walk away? I would have come back and taken it, too. Because you really spun it. But I really don’t think about you much. I managed to place other assholes in the way so I won’t have to think about you.

*I can’t believe you guys lied to me. I’m terrified of running into you on the street. Because I’m really angry.

*You are one of the most amazing people on earth. You are seriously an enlightened soul and got me through such a rough time. I wish you would just admit how incredible you are. You’re going to be famous one day. You have the skill of touching other people. And I don’t mean that in a weird child-molesting kind of way. I guess it kind of sounded like that.

*What the hell, man? Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend? I wouldn’t have done what I did. Because that just ain’t right.

*I don’t know who you are. But I’m trying really hard. And I hope you’re still there when I get there.

Last post of the night is actually my most prevalent thought of the day.

Let me ask you…

Why do people use love to hurt each other? People do it a lot. It’s the kick the dog syndrome. In times of rage, why do we hurt the ones who love and trust us most? There’s so much hurt cycling around and we’ll keep perpetuating it unless we make very conscious efforts in every day life not to add to the negativity of the world. The Butterfly Effect works here. Any output of negativity gets rippled out. Some splashes are bigger than others depending on the severity of the negativity. But to be honest, can we really not hurt the people around us? No matter how conscious we are, no matter how much we care, no matter how much we love and adore them? Can we ever get to a state where we never feel anger? Because if there’s anger, it has to go somewhere. Even if we reach a state closest to external equanimity, we are still going to feel some level of anger. We’ll hold in this anger until the only people we trust to show it to are the people closest to us and most intimate with us. So the only way for you to get out that repressed anger is to do it in front of someone you trust enough to show it to, probably hurting them a great deal. Please don’t do it anymore. It’s really rough on those who love you.

What would you do if you were dating a girl and she said that she’d been with, say, 67 guys?

And what would you do if she said, don’t worry, 32 of them were in one night?

This Is The Last Time I Sleep For 12 Hours…

I had the weirdest dream last night. I was back in my hometown for a high school reunion, but I guess I missed it because I was at the gym beforehand, and when it was time to leave, I couldn’t remember which locker I had put my bag in. It took me hours and finally, I realized that I didn’t even bring in a bag…I had left it in my car. So I walked home because for some reason, I couldn’t find my car by that point either, and I saw this tall skinny blond guy walking up my hill. So I was talking to him about life, his family, etc., and i kept thinking, he looks really young, like 18 or 19 years old. We got to the gate at the front of the neighborhood and I saw some girls that I used to hate in high school. So I said hi but kept walking with him, but as we round this one corner, he grabs me and presses me up against a trailer parked on the side of the road and starts making out with me. I tell him, not here, because I don’t want the girls to see, but he picks me up, pulls me behind the trailer and I’m thinking THIS GUY IS SO YOUNG THIS IS WRONG! but then it’s over as quickly as it started (he didn’t even get his pants off and he was done). So I’m like, uh, okay, well, I’m gonna keep walking home because I’m late for something. So I go home and later someone tells me, hey, did you see Timothy McVeigh walking in the neighborhood today? And I’m thinking, WHAT THE FUCK? DID I JUST…eeeeeeeeeeeeew.

Analyze THAT, Freud!

I am currently putting together a proposal to get on a porn set to interview performers. This is purely a professional article about the acting process for these folks. So I was talking to Jake about it and this is his response:

“Just remember, Julia, when you do end up going on the set…don’t fall in love.”

hehe

I’ll TRY.

On MSN today… Worst Dates

http://msn.match.com/msn/article.aspx?articleid=1955&TrackingID=516311&BannerID=544658

My favorite:

Susan, 39, went on a date with a guy who couldn’t stop talking about another woman. “He talked a lot about a lady friend of his, their emotional bond and admitted the woman was married and lived in another country.” He kept talking about her the whole night. “It was obvious he was more comfortable with his quasi-fantasy relationships than face-to-face dating.”

Guys who are more into quasi-fantasy relationships than face-to-face dating? Imagine THAT. I’ve actually been out with a few of these. It’s like watching a circus freak show as they spin and spin and spin in their heads with their narcissistically obsessive thoughts about not being able to be with someone (else), when in truth, they obviously can’t be with ANYONE until they deal with themselves. But unfortunately, this psychological masturbation requires a “date” to be an audience for it to be pleasurable. GOOD. Times. I would just slip out of the chair and crawl away slowly. Trust me. He won’t notice.

My Top 9 Worst Dates:

1. The Asian Fetishist who asked me if I was into S&M on the first date because “…most asian girls are into that stuff. Right? Right??”
2. The guy who SPEARED food off of my plate without asking and then tried to feed me a cheesy line when I wouldn’t let him come upstairs.
3. This one is self-explanatory: “I’m sitting here looking at you, and I’m thinking about how hot your mom is.”
4. The Really Insecure Guy who spent the entire evening giving me his entire relationship and sexual history, going into immense detail and reenactments of emotionally-tormented arguments and conversations.
5. The Crazy Agro Foreign Guy who got drunk and stoned and then tried to pick fights with anyone who would come near us. Then admitted to having been a part of a cat burglary ring in Europe when he was a teenager. Then he started getting paranoid and called me sketchy.
6. The guy who wouldn’t talk and would just stare. The ENTIRE night. I never saw him blink.
7. The really attractive, intelligent businessman who told me that he ran a computer company, but then admitted to lying to people for sport and having gotten rich off of internet porn sites. I didn’t want to go out with him again, but invited him to my birthday party a few months later, to which he showed up with two really homely girls and made out with them in front of me, then discussed that he has been depressed since he broke up with his “lover.”
8. The guy who was so nervous he couldn’t stop shaking and when I didn’t want him to walk me to my car, he was on the verge of tears. (I felt really horrible about this one)
9. The cute lawyer who got so trashed at the bar, that he kept grabbing my crotch. Without permission.

Number 10: Bad Date Because of Me

I went out with this really gorgeous shy guy who’s a friend of a friend. It was the first night I had moved into my new place and we went out for drinks, then I invited him up to check out my place. I told him that I wanted to show him the view from one of the balconies. I had him sit on a couch, then I lit some candles, opened up the balcony where there was an awesome view of the city, TURNED OFF THE LIGHTS, and then stood in the doorway behind him and didn’t do anything. Because my intentions were literally, to show him this great view. You can imagine his confusion. I didn’t realize that I could of had it until I told a friend of mine about how the date went and she screamed, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!? I’m really oblivious sometimes.

You know what I just realized? You know how most of us feel that we are invincible and that bad things only happen to other people but not to us? I think part of the problem is the psychological conditioning from movies. For example, I am not afraid of–coming home one late night and as I’m undressing for bed, a masked man steps out of the shadows and pins me to the wall with his strong, calloused hands, his sweaty, rippling chest burning through his shirt to press against my heaving, hungry breasts as his man-iron rubs against my

um.

I think we just went into the wrong compartment in my head.

I mean, I’ve never been afraid of walking into my home and getting attacked by a knife-wielding psycho. Because somewhere subconsciously, I figure that if trouble is near, I’ll hear some ominous soundtrack music to warn me, so I’ll be okay.

Does anyone else think things like this?

The Numbers Game

How many is a lot? And is anyone really counting? You know what I’m talking about. Sex. I dated a guy once who wouldn’t tell me how many people he’d been with. Finally, after we broke up, he said he lost count, but it was probably close to 80…100. I flipped, considering at the time we had been dating, I was at ZERO. Yeah, he’s European, a total player and older than me and all but damn…I’m so glad I never did anything with him. But what’s weirder, is that when I told him that I was at one (and zero when we had been dating), he was shocked. He said that girls my age are usually at 20-25 (I was 21 yrs old at the time). I think his perception is pretty skewed. But I wonder if people really count numbers.

Personally, I don’t think it really matters. The only thing is what a high number might imply. If a guy has been with 30 girls, you assume he must have slept around. But if you average it, he’s been with about 3 girls a year and that doesn’t sound as bad. So the number doesn’t necessarily tell you anything. I think if you get to know a person well, then you’ll discover the things that really matter…what his values are, what kind of person he is, and if he cares about and respects you. Fuck the past. It’s called the past cuz we’re supposed to leave it in the past.

On a different (?) note…I was bored at work and did some calculations.

If I go out on a date with you, there’s an 8% chance that I’ll sleep with you.
If I go out on multiple dates with you, there’s a 9.7% chance that I’ll sleep with you.
If I make out with you, there’s a 27.3% chance that I’ll sleep with you.

If you’re a Gemini, there’s an 18.2% chance that I’ll make out with you.
If you’re a Leo, Aquarius or Libra, there’s a 13.6% chance that I’ll make out with you.
If you’re a Taurus or Sagittarius and you’re hot and discreet, there is a 99.9% chance that I will make out with you.
If you’re my hot next door neighbor, there’s a 100% chance I will make out with you and chain you up in my closet.

So if you’re a guy and these statistics discourage you, don’t worry:

If we take body shots off of each other in public as members of my family take pictures, and your asshole best friend who looks like Gary Payton doesn’t call me a bitch because I won’t sleep with you, then there’s a 50% chance that I will sleep with you.

This story drives me to murder.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/news/archive/2004/03/01/state1846EST0212.DTL

http://losangeles.craigslist.org/about/best/

Some funny shit. I especially like the Stripper’s Rants.