Take Five: Good Ole Irony

This post will be short and sweet, just because I feel it’s necessary for me to document the irony that just occurred in the midst of my starving college student life.

I don’t recall mentioning that I’m an aspiring screenwriter. Well, I recently got word of a screenwriters expo that unfortunately like most of these events, is far from free. I hate to miss these opportunities, but let’s just say I’m not looking to get evicted from my latest studio before my first months occupancy is up. On the bright side, my considerate professor who spoke word of the expo, threw in a volunteer opportunity…aka free admission to the expo if you work it.

So, I email the guy in charge. I explain that although I would love to attend the seminars… the expense makes it difficult. I end with a “sign me up to help!” He emails me back in a flash. All seems secure until I read, “Oh, by the way do you have an iPad Mini? it’s mandatory for the gig.”

Big sigh.

Warning the following caption must be read keeping the utmost sarcasm in mind:
Hmmm yes I do happen to have an iPad Mini, since I can barely afford rent, have been a little too frugal with my Tp lately, and just emailed you asking to volunteer because I cant afford a ticket to the event. I’ll be sure to charge that IPad Mini beforehand!

Irony just handed Writer Girl a lesson in nothing in this world comes for free.


Take Four: Alchy Unwanted -The Wonders of Mocktails

Wow. Technology truly has no limits. I’m currently blogging from my IPhone. Although I think this is the best thing since sliced bread, this may be very, very old news to most experienced bloggers and readers.

Anywho, It’s been a few days since I’ve had a moment to lay back and let my mind wander. Topic of today: The wonders of living a sober summer. Well I’m a week into this attempt at living, eating, and drinking healthy and I can tell you it is NOT easy. Today has been my biggest test thus far as I’m currently laying by the pool and want nothing more than to sip down a pomegranate margarita on the rocks with a salted rim.

The reason for ditching the drink? Two main reasons. Since my 21st birthday I’ve been a victim of the beer belly accompanied by an empty wallet. On top of it, hangovers just aren’t fun. But, let me this emphasize that this phase is not and I repeat NOT permanent. Solely temporary for the sake of a challenge and to save a few bucks, lose some lbs… and if I’m being truly honest, a few headaches too. I’d like to step into my final semester of college in a healthy, fresh state of mind. So far I’m loving the benefits of avoiding the alchy. I’m writing more, sleeping better, weighing less, and remembering the memories I make.

If you’d like to participate in the remainder of summer sober challenge with me below is a list of Low Cal “mocktails” that are super yummy all under 40 calories! Perfect for those who want to stay on the diet track, but still want to hang with the girls and look the part! My fav is the Faux-Ito, or a hangover free version of the infamous mojito!

Last day of Summer 2013: Saturday, September 21st. that’s only six weeks! If you accept this wonders of sobriety challenge, let Writer Girl know which one is your favorite. Good Luck and happy drinking!




Take Three: The Fourth of Naked Guy

I remember…

After my latest post, I’m feeling inspired to accept a writing challenge today. Freestyle memory, 10 minutes on the clock. Time is 2:10 p.m. Ready, Set, Go!

Fourth of July 2008. Post-firework extravaganza. In the city of Chino California, former cow country.  My older cousins (10 years my senior) were feeling nostalgic and wanted to show me the houses they grew up in.


My cousin by blood, Haley, sits excitedly in the passenger seat while her husband, Eddie, mans the wheel with purpose as I make myself comfortable in the backseat behind Haley. Fast-forward to us winding through the streets of Eddie’s childhood in their Toyota Camry. The community park: where Eddie broke his arm, first job: mowing crazy cat ladies lawn, followed by the Bernstein’s house: where Eddie and partner in crime Dillon Bernstein accidentally blew up the family mini van when the reckless “high” schoolers left a joint burning on the seat.

It was a surprisingly quiet neighborhood, too quiet on account that it was 10 p.m. on Fourth of July in a city where fireworks were legal at the time. I tried to remain as interested as I could as Eddie pointed out his adolescent memories, but for a 14 year old at the time, his walk down memory lane felt like my grandpa telling me about his service in the Korean War. Alright 5 minutes left, better get to the punch line…

Ahhh, the time and place of Eddie’s first kiss. He points to a mailbox outside a quaint one story house. A sigh of frustration as Haley realizes that she and Eddie never kissed at this mailbox. The beans are spilled, Haley was not Eddie’s first kiss…whoops.  I decide tune out the feuding fiances and take in the scenery, although looking back I wish I hadn’t…Out of nowhere, a stark naked man holding a can of Bud Light stands in the middle of the road unbeknownst to the very distracted, bickering beaus. I panic. I can’t the right words, or any for that matter, to tell Eddie to brake before we hit the drunk, naked, fat guy. I realize this is the first fully nude man I have ever laid eyes on, and my fourteen year old virgin self was in complete and utter shock as the man’s beer belly slithered across Haley’s passenger window. Milliseconds pass when the fat man suddenly bellows in pain and proceeds to bang on my window and flip me the bird. Shocked that my cousins are wrapped up in their argument, and oblivious to what has just happened, I shed the man a toothy, speechless shrug then unbuckle my seat belt so I can turn and look out the rear window. My eyes burn at the sight of him cradling his left toes, hopping on one foot, shouting profanity at the top of his lungs, and much to my dismay, all while still naked.

“Hey! What are you doing, put your seat belt back on.” – Eddie.

I turn around with wide eyes, crimson cheeks and buckle my seat belt with sweaty palms. Off my deer and headlights expression….”

“You alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” – Haley.

“God Bless, America.” I mutter under my breath.

Alright so it’s 2:21p.m. Went over by a minute. This Writer Girl wonders…what’s your Funny Freestyle Memory?


Take Two: Location, Location, Location….

Don’t you just love the feeling of sand between your toes? The subtle, or sometimes not so subtle, spray of salty ocean on your sunburn cheeks? Time to take a break from the hustle bustle of LA and take a drive up PCH. Destination: Malibu. Specifically, El Matador State Beach. After all it is summer right? All too often summer breezes by us, and leaves us with the embarrassing fact that we, Socal Natives, failed to make at least one trip to the beach this summer.


El Matador State Beach 8/4/2013

Yesterday, I fulfilled my summer prophecy and made that one trip. An afternoon of pure sunshine, strolling along the shore, crawling through sea caves, and  and a few kisses atop a boulder over the ocean later I realized that my one trip per summer is not enough. This realization brought me back to one of my favorite quotes of all time, “To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist.” – Oscar Wilde. Eureka! This right here is where I have room to grow, the place I need to address in order to break through my “writers rut.” I have been existing for too, too long my friends. How can I write about life, when I don’t live it?

I give myself two challenges:

1. Start going places to write. Perhaps my apartment walls have helped shun out my inspiration, aspiration, and that live, eat and breath writing mentality.

2. Reinvent, revamp my writer’s corner. I have to admit it’s looking rather dull lately. I’ve been moved into my new place for over a month, and have yet to pamper my walls with any art work, anything that screams me. I ask myself what would Hemingway? Nancy Meyers? James L. Brooks? Oscar Wilde?


Writer Corner 8/5/2013. Remodel Effective Immediately!

Writer Girl wonders today… where do you go to write? Or if you’ve built your sacred space what trinkets and decorations make it yours? Feel free to post pics or offer up any suggestions!

Take One: Writer’s Rut

Goodmorning…or is it the afternoon? I’m afraid to admit that I have surrendered to the constraints summer mode. I discovered this last night after a six hour Gossip Girl binge viewing via Netflix. (Team Chuck and Blair, or should I say “Chair” as the GG obsessed like to brand it… I’ve always been a sucker for teen sex-operas.) Well, I forced myself to sleep just after 3 a.m. and after a night of lucid dreaming that I was a billionaire with a penthouse in Manhattan’s Upper East Side, I pried my eye lids open at 11 a.m. I then muster up enough energy for my late morning workout, so I don’t feel like a complete lazy ass…which today consisted of four, ten minute, celebrity trainer full body blasts (all thanks to handy dandy and very free, Youtube.) My sweat sesh ends at approximately 12:30 p.m., in sync with the final drips from my beloved coffee maker.

As I sip on my cup of Kona and munch on a homemade post-workout yogurt parfait, I reflect on my life’s decisions and contemplate on how I will achieve my goals and dreams. Just as I get to a place of reason, I detour to the Netflix tab to watch just one more episode, I pathetically promise myself.

Pause. Not letting myself do this, again. Two days in a row I have signed myself up to run the marathon for Escape Reality: run away from the ideal time to really get some writing done, after all I am a writer right? Having five half marathons under my belt, I understand, quite literally, running away from your problems. When I run it’s a time to clear my mind of the troubles and tribulations that come with having: a recovering alcoholic mother, one semester left of film school with no steady job lined up, the anticipation of completing my first original feature screenplay, and my personal favorite… getting a VERY small but bitchen’ studio apartment in Sherman Oaks that my father has agreed to pay for half, but now I must figure out how to compensate for the rest.

I know what you’re thinking…oh boo whoo poor girl has to pay only half her rent. There are hundreds of starving film students who move to LA with the clothes on there back and start from the bottom and work their way to the top, one unpaid internship at a time. Those people, a few I know very well, have the courage, guts, cahones, or whatever you like to call it, to only grasp their dreams but hang on till death do them part.

Since I am an LA native, this isn’t that story, or their story, it’s our story. This blog is about the days in the life of Writer Girl. Some good days, some bad days, the days that get the best of writer’s block and the days that are pivotal in the writer’s journey.  It’s about days of self discovery, self renewal and self acceptance. It’s about days of building up and breaking down what truly matters and what doesn’t. It’s about days of facing the issue rather than running from it. It’s about growing a pair of cahones, taking control of each and every day through living, rather than simply existing. Whether you write novels, screenplays, music lyrics, on ipads or bar napkins, you write. So, let’s get started.

Welcome to the wonders of Writer Girl. 


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