Put on your elf ears and chomp on dingleberries...let's close 2013!

Holy fuck, it's the holidays.

A frightening realization that I have now been situated in the City of Angels for nearly six months.  Wow...some little fawn-like Tumnus creature must have toddled away with some of the weeks, because I don't know where they went.  I swear just yesterday I was unpacking my moving truck.

Oh wait, it's because I WAS just unpacking my moving truck!  Or, my dear helper friends were.  For the second time in LA.  You see, it's been a journey thus far for me in this south-situated California city, and one that has extended the settling process a bit longer than I initially expected. 

First, for those souls (two of them, maybe) who have been eagerly awaiting my next post for entirely too long, or just for the types who enjoy reading life details, here's a brief update on some of what I've been doing since my last post nearly five months ago:

--Driving around the city.  A lot.  For many hours.  To places that are situated a Hobbit-world's journey away (a.k.a. one mile).  It's absolutely impossible to avoid.  As are the over-tech-attentive, humanity-ignorant drivers who so regularly create reasons for more spinal cord injuries in the world (which, thankfully, are somehow narrowly avoided on a regular basis).  Okay, got that one out of my system.

--Mentoring an 11-year-old to write his first screenplay as part of the Young Storytellers Foundation, and being reminded of the infinite imagination that exists in young, un-checked brains.  They are often much more creative than folks who are getting paid millions to write screenplays for top studios (sorry, it's true).

--Traveling: to New York for a workshop of A Midsummer Night's Dream with the Shakespeare Society and Apothetae Theatre, to San Diego and East LA for readings of new plays, to Las Vegas for family adventures and Michael Jackson inspiration, and to other random Los Angeles locations for UCSD alum gatherings, wheelchair modification appointments, and other random life necessities.

New York; Shakespeare Society Artist Residency, with Apothetae Theatre Company and Guests

--Consuming great quantities of coffee and tea as I increase my hours spent in coffeeshops, developing myself as a writer.  Current projects include a play and a TV pilot (as I could not exist as an actor in LA without having a pilot that you HAVE TO read...the additional play will really set me apart).  Oh, and being carried up many flights of stairs to participate in a writing group comprised of talented industry writers, including a couple of childhood friends of mine.  Who knew that all writers in LA live in cute, tastefully-decorated nooks situated atop steep hills with too many stairs required for entry?  Needless to say, these writers are getting their deadlift weight exercise by having me in the group...and accepting the challenge graciously.

--Storytelling as part of a friend's "No Pressure Storytelling Show" at iO West, and catharting about working at winter lodges, getting butt cysts popped, and encountering uncomfortable cultural situations as a social work grad student, all to the delight of late-night Hollywood stragglers.

--Auditioning - slowly but steadily - for casting directors (some of them "big-time") and network diversity showcases, and learning a great deal about the media perception of disability in the process.  (Just a quick educational note to casting folks: wheelchair users teach, parent, travel, are funny, teach sports, date, have sex...they don't just sit behind desks as secretaries and I.T. professionals.)  No big movie deals yet, but this career is a painstaking marathon.

--Randomly finding myself in the middle of attending or participating in shows like Let's Make a Deal or MTV hidden camera pranks.  Possible upcoming air time will occur.

--Best of all, meeting the random characters that populate this blanketed city: random war vets who want to tell me their story while waiting to buy alcohol in line at CVS; dudes that have to spend 30 minutes in furniture stores or Starbuckses telling me how I MUST become a motivational speaker; or random cats at Hollywood bars that confess over Mexican cabbage soup that alcohol, tattoos, and beard choices are the main roadblock to a career of successful improv or sketch comedy.  (Which, when you think about it, makes sense...most successful sketch or improv actors are surprisingly clean cut.)

So Regan, you ask, why must you enumerate all of these things for me?  Honestly, I do it partially for my own encouragement, to remind myself of what six months in Los Angeles can yield.

Because, the honest truth is:
1. I just realized that "honest truth" is somewhat redundant.
2. It's been hard.  Yes, even the ever-positive, optimistic Reganator has, amidst random activities and encounters, felt confused, disheartened, alone, angry, frustrated, and disdainful of Los Angeles.

Why?  Because 6 months in LA is just a taste.  And aside from much of the mouth-watering cuisine that is offered in Thai Town, the taste of LA demands an acquired palate.  Most people say it takes at least 3 years to develop a full-blown appreciation of its flavors, and even then it's still sometimes just a two-and-a-half star experience.

With five-star tapas between the main courses.

To explain this, let me share some of the less-enjoyable experiences the city has doled out in the last several months:

--I initially moved into a living situation I found through Craigslist, and discovered that this can be complicated.  My roommate was unfortunately dealing with a fair number of life and health situations that I hadn't been aware of, and I determined that I needed to move.  I did, and less than two weeks later she sadly passed away.  A sorrowful and sobering experience, considering that she was my age, and also had a disability.

--Being without health insurance for the first time in my life, I applied for individual coverage and was denied due to preexisting condition (being paralyzed...even though I live a significantly healthier lifestyle than most people walking around on two feet).  And of course, the stress of the first few months induced various small health maladies that would be exacerbated by my sitting all day long.  So, I found myself frequenting free clinic waiting rooms, for hours on end. (Which, in the end, was a surprisingly positive experience...thank goodness for places like the Saban Free Clinic.  Shout out!)

--Searching for housing I was exposed to the woefully challenging task of finding adequate and affordable wheelchair-accessible housing in Los Angeles.  Housing in LA is hard enough, and adding basic accessibility needs like grab bars and accessible parking spaces to the mix makes for a hair-yanking conundrum.  (Upside: discovered Equity Residential, which has a special "Mobility Impaired Living Enhancement" program at some of their properties to make any necessary access modifications for tenants with unique needs...wish I had known when I was moving here!)

--Experiencing the joys of LA parking...they literally post 5 signs in a cluster above parking meters, and two meters down post another 5 signs with completely different regulations!  "Reading the fine print" takes on a new meaning.

Annnnd,
moving trucks that break down on the highway;
unforgiving health club membership contracts;
extreme body-focus that makes for extreme insecurity in the general populace;
defense mechanisms that prevent people from making real connections with other humans;
tedium in searching for jobs that ultimately don't respect their employees;
ridiculous roadways and drivers that make for dangerous driving conditions.  You thank your lucky stars if you're alive at the end of the day.

It's all summed up by this: I auditioned for a primetime show on a major network, and soldiered through a dead battery and rolling a mile in a suit and 90-degree weather to make it on time.  And I got CAST!  Only to get notice two days later that the show had been cancelled.  Fail.

I know...many of these challenges aren't necessarily exclusive to LA.  But, they seem to occur in higher frequency here.  And they affect you more deeply, since you're often wading through the abyss on your own, separated from friends by hours of mid-city traffic.  After all, millions of people live in this fishnet-spread, sardine-packed town.  Humanity exists with higher frequency.  And because of the higher occurrence of humanity, investments aren't made in people.  It all comes down to the $$, and especially in the industry, people can be replaced easily and swiftly.  So, you see millions of dollars thrown at people and projects on whims, betting that they might yield return.  And once there is the slightest indication that something won't yield a high enough return, it's trashed.  A consumerist culture with no longevity...live for today, because tomorrow you might be thrown out with the dog poo.

Now, I'm all about carpe diem mentality.  But, there's a difference between appreciating, honoring, and immersing yourself in each day, each moment, each opportunity...and just using and discarding because you don't give a shit about anything beyond your own pithy existence.

Yes, our existences are pretty miniscule and fleeting in the overall scheme.  And there are definitely times when I think, "What is the point?"  We strut and fret on our stage, and then it's over.  But I think the upside of LA is that it's illuminated something for me: that I embody some level of purpose, meaning, and spiritual value that makes me recoil when I'm presented with an environment that urges a person to not care.  And for that, I am truly grateful.  Because even if I'm wrong about it all - even if all if this IS pointless or purposeless - at least I'll behave under the illusion that each day, encounter, person, and experience is loaded with value, and therefore will hopefully achieve something great in this life. 

Or, maybe I'll just smile a little longer, and possibly make someone else's day when they feel like the universe is loading dung atop their noggin.  And that's purpose enough for me.

Joy and tradition in LA

So I end this year by saying thank you, City of Angels.  I shall continue to...
drive your streets with caution and as much patience as I can muster;
absorb volatile comments from your drug-users;

bang through your heavy doors into casting director offices where I work to convince them that people who don't stand on two feet or wax every strand of peach fuzz off their body can be talented and engaging;
fight against your enticement to treat people like they don't matter; 
write the stories you haven't yet discovered;
wave in appreciation when one of your drivers lets me merge on the freeway, even if they don't understand the gesture of appreciation;
wear my jeans and Denver Broncos shirts, and buck the hipster glasses, knit scarves, and beards that abound (the beard should be easy to avoid);
and sing Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson songs at the top of my lungs in my minivan, while dancing and attracting the amused expressions of bus tourists who think, "LA people are crazy."

Hmmm, perhaps I'll end up fitting in here better than I thought.

And for now, happy holly-days to all.  Enjoy, and I'll communicate with you in 2014!