On visiting NYC again

NYC from the top of the Hearst Tower
NYC from the top of the Hearst Tower

I recently flew to NYC for a work trip. A lot of people assumed I’d be excited to return to my old stomping grounds, as I have tons of friends in the city and had some pretty memorable experiences back east. I was certainly thrilled to go for business, but on a personal level, I was conflicted.

In July of last year, I knew I needed to move on from New York. I’d entertained the idea of relocating to LA in pursuit of screenwriting for a while, and now that I finally had the opportunity to try to make that a reality, I believed it was time to get out. I knew in July that I was ready to leave, but it wasn’t until late September that I acquired the confidence to abandon all I’d created in the concrete jungle for a calmer, sunnier, and healthier life in southern California.

A month before returning to the west coast, I switched my online dating profile to the LA network, which was quite small since this particular dating site had started in Brooklyn and was struggling to carve out a strong presence in Los Angeles. Thank God there weren’t many users on it, as one guy — known then to me as Ian41 — kept popping up on my Suggested Dates list and I clicked on over to his page to see what he was all about. Pretty soon, we sent each other a long email every single day leading up to my move, and shortly after my arrival, we knew we didn’t want to pursue anyone else.

We were very happy from the beginning, and though I had no job or place of my own (I was living in my grandma’s vacant condo in Long Beach at the time), I was more fulfilled than I’d ever been with my Upper East Side apartment or outwardly glamorous media career in NYC. That said, I still felt bad about the fact that I couldn’t necessarily take care of myself. Without stable employment, it was going to be challenging to pay rent, let alone move to LA proper.

When I made it to LA, I took some screenwriting classes, endured a few lousy entertainment jobs, and learned that the assistant route just wasn’t for me. I’d love to produce and write screenplays someday, but I am not going to become an abused runner in hopes that maybe, just maybe, I’ll meet the right people and make it big as a result. So nearly a year after my NYC fallout, I applied for a non-entertainment position at a trendy startup. I wouldn’t be writing, but I’d finally feel good about my professional place in the world again. I ended up getting a job offer on my birthday, when I also learned I’d be flying to NYC for a week to train at HQ. So many changes were taking place, but for once, they felt like good changes. I was so ready to finally feel financially stable again.

Luckily, I also had a family vacation planned right before training, so I flew to Massachusetts first and then took a train to Penn Station from there. It worked out well, butNYC it also meant I’d have to be away from Ian for ten days — the longest we’d ever been apart. I stayed at his house the night before my flight, sulking at bed time because I was scared to go through such an intense process without him. I’m used to coming home to him after stressful experiences and days, and not being able to hug him and debrief on the couch afterward just didn’t seem right.

My first night in NYC was the hardest. I walked from my Times Square hotel to Dos Toros burrito shop on 14th Street. It was a long journey, but I could use the exercise and time to think. It reminded me of how thin I’d been during my NYC days, and all the moving around definitely contributed to that. Nobody walks in LA. I also had to get used to the reality of jaywalking. When I first saw people doing it on 29th Street, I thought to myself, “Are they insane?” Then I remembered that’s normal in NYC and that I’d been a major offender during my own days in the city. Soon enough, I was jaywalking without a care, scrambling to cross the street with green lights hanging above me and taxis zooming in my direction.

On my walk back to the hotel, a lump formed in my throat. It was dark out and suddenly I was reminded of all the nights I’d walked home alone in New York City, sometimes holding back tears or not even bothering to hide my disappointment with whatever had just happened. The truth is, the loneliness I felt living there was unbearable, and even more so upon returning. Suddenly my life with Ian in LA felt so far away, like it had never happened. I’d dreamed it all and was back in the city that had broken my heart in every possible way.

Longing for Ian and his family, all of which I consider my family now, I bought postcards for them at a tourist store. There was a sale for 10 cards at a price of $1, but I only purchased three: one for my nana, one for Ian, and one for Ian’s parents. I scribbled notes for all of them on the street and then proceeded to drop them in the nearest mailbox. I text messaged Ian to let him know, and right then, he emailed me a funny YouTube clip of a “great NYC pizza place” to check out during my trip. The video featured Steve Carell going into a Sbarro, and sure enough, there was a Sbarro across the street from me at that moment.

I relayed this to Ian, who seemed to think the incident was humorous as well. Suddenly the pit in my stomach was gone. I was in NYC solo, but Ian could share the experience with me, and I knew that no matter what, I was going home to him. One day we’d venture to NYC as a pair and try out the real pizza together, but until then, we could mock the crappy chains populating Times Square. It was all going to be fine.

The rest of my trip was spectacular. I loved waking up in Times Square and walking down to HQ in Chelsea. I remember thinking that my life in NYC might have been better and easier had I lived near work and avoided the subway. Had I simply done it wrong during my time in NYC?

When I explained this to Ian, he mentioned staying in NYC for several weeks one summer to work at his company’s firm in the city. They put him up in a four star hotel by the office and he believed living in New York seemed like a breeze. It’s never a breeze, but it’s certainly easier if you can walk to work, and that wouldn’t be very affordable.

It’s also not practical most of the time. If you’re not pushing through crowds on a snowy day, you’re sweating through your clothes on a humid summer morning. Or you’re being jerked around by a wind tunnel, and maybe even attacked by a rainstorm as well. It rained a ton my second and third day in NYC, but I still forced myself to stay away from the subway and use my legs. It wasn’t so bad for a week, but reminded me of how awful my work days in Manhattan used to start thanks to heading to the office in all sorts of bad weather. When you arrive at your desk in wet clothes with nowhere to set down your battered umbrella, you know your day isn’t set up for success.

The work-related stuff was incredible, but I also had a small window of time for catching up with old pals. I told everyone to meet at Smithfield bar on Wednesday evening, and sure enough, I was the first to arrive. I headed to the back of the room to grab a table, where I sat alone for about fifteen minutes before my friend Sophia showed up. It didn’t feel weird to be out and about by myself, but I remember thinking the NYC version of me wouldn’t have been comfortable ordering a drink solo at a popular bar downtown. I would have felt the need to play with my phone or insist to the waitress that more people were coming so as not to seem like a lone wolf. As I implied earlier, however, LA can be kind of an isolating place because of the lack of community, so being alone hasn’t been a source of discomfort for me in a while. I was also underemployed for more than a year, and that kind of solitude can definitely turn you into a bit of a lone wolf. Fine by me.

from sophia
From Sophia

Sophia brought me a box of Dunkin’ Donuts munchkins, as I’m obsessed with the east coast treasure and have made that pretty clear on social media. Shortly after Sophia got there, my other guests arrived. Almost everyone was a former coworker from somewhere, but I only see them as friends now. One girl kept talking about how happy I looked. I agreed but followed up with, “Well, I’ve also gained some weight. LA will do that to you.” It’s true: I’m constantly in my car.

Still, I’d take my healthy weight and hearty diet over what I was during my time in NYC. I lost about seven pounds last summer due to stress and major indecision, but once I got where I was meant to be, and found the person I was meant o be with, I began to look like myself again. A bigger version, sure, but with more to love this time. I also think I’m more fun to hang out with, as I am always happy to order more drinks and food.

We all caught up on our career paths and personal lives, and one former coworker said he admired me for moving across the country and carving out a new life for myself in SoCal.

“When you first parted ways with [our former place of employment], I didn’t know what to think,” he said. “But then I realized it was kind of bad ass. Now you’re doing something entirely different in LA.”

As you know, I came out here to try to write for film and television. That hasn’t happened, and I’ve kind of tabled that dream for the time being (even though I’m working on some scripts of my own), but I also realized along the way that ambition will never be the most important thing to me again. I’ve never been happier than I am now, and I know I’m going to continue having a full, amazing life with the person I love.

old budes
My buddies!

I relayed this to the group, fully aware of the fact that the version of me they used to know never would have said anything like that aloud. They’re an ambitious bunch, but they also value their mental and emotional health, so they were pleased to hear this as such.

The following night, I went out to dinner with one of my boyfriend’s relatives. Like me, she was in town for work, and we met up near my old office. It was surreal walking through the neighborhood of my former place of employment, especially given the changes to the surroundings. One of the major building scaffoldings was gone, filling up the space with the brightness of the sun but also leading me to wonder how I might have handled days of bad weather had that been removed during my time in NYC. I thought back to the countless occasions in which I hurried across the street to get under the scaffolding, dodging whatever horrible weather was attacking New Yorkers at that very moment.

It occurred to me as I strolled near my old work building that my experience in NYC could have been quite different had I chosen not to work in media. What if I’d applied to my new place of employment while living in NYC? Would I have been happier overall with another career path? I thought this over so much that I actually walked past my old office without even realizing it. It dawned on me that I remembered the street name but not the building number itself. Rather than find the exact address on my phone, I kept moving, not wanting to be late to see my boyfriend’s cousin.

When I got to LAX late Friday night, my boyfriend was waiting for me in the arrivals area. We were exhausted but elated to finally see each other again after nearly two weeks apart. Though I hadn’t eaten in more than 12 hours, I couldn’t finish the burrito he’d picked up for me earlier in the day. I was still processing being back, but by the next morning, I was ready to indulge some of the New York bagels I’d packed in my suitcase. We enjoyed a sesame and plain bagel with cream cheese and lox, and we also had a Sopranos marathon the following day. With a mimosa in hand and my head on his shoulder, I could finally appreciate the east coast, but from where I truly belonged.


Exactly one year ago today, everything changed for me

Bryant Park
Bryant Park

A year ago today, I spilled Pret a Manger yogurt all over myself in Bryant Park, barely missing the broken computer bag on my lap. I was on the phone with my friend Marjorie at the time, and for ten seconds, I stared at the disaster in front of me. I had nothing to wipe it up with, so I just used my ratty, yellowing H&M sweater, knowing all too well I’d have to throw away the item of clothing. Just an hour earlier, my life had changed forever — for the worse, I initially thought — and my new job was to clean up the mess with whatever scraps I still had. It was opening weekend for The Conjuring, and I bought tickets to the first showing because what better movie to see when you’re already having a rough day than a demonic horror based on a true story?

That morning, I’d been unceremoniously dismissed from I job I really cared about but ultimately wasn’t right for. Just weeks earlier, I’d blogged about the loneliness of NYC in the summer and how the show New Girl made me realize I eventually wanted to abandon NYC and try to become a screenwriter in LA:

So, in 2.5-3 years, I would like to relocate to Los Angeles — my birthplace, for better or worse — and give screenwriting a try. I know, I know, you can’t just move to LA and create the script for “New Girl” or some other incredible sitcom, but I’m willing to start from scratch and work my way up again, and the good news is I won’t be too old to take a big leap at that point. I’m not far away from hitting a ceiling in the print/online media world.

Relocating to Los Angeles seemed like a long way off, as I had an established career and life in New York, where I’d been residing for nearly two years. I had a strong social structure, talented and fun assortment of colleagues, tiny apartment on the Upper East Side with a hilarious, pint-sized Italian girl with the best laugh I’d ever heard, and good thing going in my improv level two class. So what if I kind of wanted to do something else and live in my birth state, where I’d be closer to my whole family and so much happier? There was more to life than happiness. New York taught me that the moment I set foot on the Penn Station train platform. Life wasn’t perfect in Manhattan, but I was finally settled. I was comfortable.

Of course, that comfort was gone the moment I became unemployed. Suddenly nothing but my lease was binding me to New York, so I was free to pursue my real dream of working in entertainment. I should have thanked my former employers a million times for setting me free, but I was too scared and uncertain of my fate to understand I had a real opportunity to do something amazing: I was less than a week shy of 25. I was young enough to make a complete career 180 and still succeed. Things were looking up.

My brother Michael said my departure from work was a blessing in disguise. Many friends and family members agreed, but they were also worried. Would I ride out the rest of my lease in NYC — enduring yet another brutal winter (the worst in years, as we’d all later find out) — or follow that crazy idea that had recently popped into my head and return to my West Coast roots?

It took me about two months to make the final call, which, of course, was to start fresh in Los Angeles, but a few significant people in my life pushed me to make the move. My mother played a huge role in getting me out here, as she said there were some good UCLA extension classes still open and that I could really benefit from enrolling in the school’s Writer’s Program. My friend Nikki, however, made the best point of all during a phone conversation.

With Nikki
With Nikki

I told Nikki that I hoped to move to LA at the conclusion of my lease in 2014, to which she responded, “Laura, becoming a screenwriter is going to be enough of a challenge. You should get out here as quickly as you can because we already know it’s going to take a lot of time to break into the industry. Besides, you’re going to be in my wedding. You have to be [in California] to help me plan!”

This was true.

The night before telling my roommate Jen that I intended to vacate the apartment within three to four weeks, I started packing up my belongings. My walls were completely bare by the time I went to sleep, and within a week, the room itself was empty save for my bed, a single box of clothes, my laptop, and my iPhone charger. By September, I vowed to leave NY by the end of the month, and I was so checked out of the city in my last few weeks that I switched all my social media account locations to LA, including my newly re-opened dating profile on HowAboutWe.

I’d had some questionable experiences with online dating, but given my desire to start fresh in a new place, I decided to revisit the site and perhaps have a few dates lined up in LA upon arrival.

I had always been told that love sneaks up on you when you’re not looking for it, and only now do I know that statement to be true. I was not looking for love when I activated my profile again. I was actually seeking friends and people to hang out with. Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have an LA romance, but mostly I craved companionship.

My NYC room before I moved out.
My NYC room before I moved out.

At first, I received lots of messages from people in entertainment, and that made me feel better about having to spend a little extra time in NYC. I was already making Hollywood connections and would surely grow that network shortly after moving. But the user who intrigued me most was not an aspiring actor, director, producer, etc., but a lawyer with the sweetest looking smile I’d ever seen.

I clicked on over to Ian41’s profile (I also loved that he included his real name in his username — I was LaurafromCalifornia) and was pretty impressed. He hadn’t filled out much, but he appeared to be well-educated, hard-working, adventurous, and kind. Right after we started messaging each other, I mentioned I wouldn’t be in LA until October but that we could email back and forth until then. We decided to take our correspondence over to Gmail and he said I could email him anytime. I was afraid to take a step beyond HowAboutWe’s inbox system, so it came as a huge relief when he made the first move the following day, September 16, with this email:

Hi Laura,

It sounds like the NYC fall weather is a bad LA winter weather.  At least you’ll miss the NYC winter.  I was freezing when I was there in March, I can’t imagine what it’s like in the winter.  Hopefully the nice weather here will continue in October!


I responded right away, and before we knew it, we were sending each other long emails every single day. With the stress of neverending moving arrangements, hearing from him became the best part of my day — the light at the end of the tunnel during my tedious cross-country relocation. I suffered terrible insomnia at the time, so I’d be awake when he emailed me at 11 or midnight Pacific time. I’d draft up emails to him but wait ten hours to hit “send” — I didn’t want him to know the girl he was talking to regularly stayed up until 4 a.m. out of misery. Our threads increased in length with each exchange, with both of us easily churning out 1,200+ words each time. They were nice, though, and we continued sending long emails until the day we finally met in person.

Our first date was at a bar downtown, and he told me right away that I should sit by his “good ear” to his right.

“I was hit by a car in London about 15 years ago and I’ve had a ringing in my left ear ever since.”

“My dad was like that,” I said. “Got shot in the head with a BB gun as a little kid. He died of cancer in 2006, but said he was happy to never have to hear the ringing sound ever again.”

Not even five minutes had passed and we’d already shared some pretty significant life events with each other. Sure we’d gotten close via email in the month before meeting, but there was something special about seeing him in person, as well as knowing we could be more than just pen pals.

When we first met, I was fearful about all things-LA. The driving, the parking, the traffic, the unforgiving sun, the struggles of making new friends, etc. I overcame all of this very quickly, and I also realized I was in love very quickly.cutee

I like to tell Ian that I moved to LA under the impression that I’d become a TV and film writer, and while I still want those things just as much as I did when I left New York, I know in my heart that I was really meant to come here for him. Had I not lost my entire identity a year ago, we never would have crossed paths, but I’m so grateful for all the horrible and unfortunate experiences that led me here.

I woke up the morning of July 19, 2013 feeling nervous and ill. The night before, my boss had asked to meet at Pret a Manger around 7:30 a.m., which seemed a little early for a feedback session. I got out of my bed at 6:15 knowing that a difficult conversation was ahead, and I just wanted to get it over with.

Today, the alarm went off at 8 a.m. It’s the weekend, but Ian had some work to do at the office, so we set an alarm as we would on a normal week day. We had some espresso and yogurt (we usually have toast but he just had gum surgery and can only eat soft foods for a while). Though I spilled my yogurt once again, it wasn’t all over me this time. I spilled on Ian’s table. There was a paper towel roll just a few inches away, so I wiped up the mess immediately, not needing to sacrifice my clothes or sit there staring at the disaster, wondering what move to make next. I’ve cleaned up a lot over the last year, and I’m a lot more prepared for damage control now.

Ian, my roommate, and me at the Hollywood Bowl seeing Robyn!
Ian, my roommate, and me at the Hollywood Bowl seeing Robyn!

Earlier this week, I cried for the first time in months about the approach of July 19, not because I longed for the past, but because I was disappointed by my situation and seeming lack of progress a year later. 365 days after the fact, I’m working but underemployed and always, always, always on the hunt for my next opportunity. Why couldn’t I have landed something full-time and forever by now? It made no sense to me.

I brought all this up to Ian, who of course saved the day by laying out the facts. Sure I’m not a successful showrunner or even a writer’s assistant, but I’ve come such a long way in the past year. I switched cities, landed three different jobs in the entertainment industry, completed two screenwriting classes and a workshop, joined a writer’s group, and began writing for HG. I also have a strong group of friends out here … and oh yeah, the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. As my former coworker Alex Alvarez said over fries and cocktails a few months back, I’m doing a lot better than I think.

So there’s where I am one year after a defining moment that flipped my whole world over. I was scared to start fresh again and move to the other side of the country, even though it was my home, but things are slowly coming together for me.

Writing scripts, wearing glasses and slowly departing the bottom of the totem pole

Earlier today, one of my friends called me in a state of panic.

“I hope I didn’t offend you the other day when I labeled myself an unemployed loser,” she said.

“Why would I be put off by that?”

“You’ve just been through so many job changes and transitions over the past year and I want to make sure I didn’t hurt your feelings with the ‘unemployed loser’ remark. I was calling myself that, not you.”

“But I am an unemployed loser,” I said before realizing oh wait, that isn’t true anymore. Really. “Underemployed fits the bill, I suppose. But that’s better than before.”

It’s absolutely wild to think about how much has changed over the last year alone. This time last year, I was sweating the summer away in humid, nasty New York City, hating life, losing weight because I was too unhappy to even find joy in food, and screaming in my sleep every night. I’m surprised my roommate Jen never asked me move out. She said I scared and woke her up all the time with my night terrors, which are completely gone now. I have my lovely boyfriend Ian to thank for that. For the longest time, I feared relationships because of how guys would react to my sleep talking/walking issues. Ian assured me he didn’t care if I talked or yelled, he just wanted to be next to me every night, and sure enough, all my anxieties melted when he came into the picture. It wasn’t just him, though. I’m so much more relaxed in California, even though I just shuddered at the sound of my doorbell. If you ever come visit me, call first. Don’t knock on the door. I will probably be too scared to let you in. Hey, you could be some creeper making the rounds trying to sell me Jesus, Scientology, Jehovah, etc.

That’s a downside of living in the suburbs. I also still can’t believe how much space I have. It’s going to take me a long time to ever be comfortable in a house again. I think NYC might have made me an apartment girl for life. On Tuesday, I thought I was being sung into Hell when I’d really just been woken up by a pack of screaming cats fighting in my backyard at 2:40 a.m. Now that my roommate’s kitty Poopty is gone, the strays think our turf is theirs, and they always battle each other for ownership. I love cats now, but not these monsters. They sound demonic when they wail at odd hours. For a second, I thought there was a witch ceremony or something behind my home. No, just a bunch of hostile felines with territorial issues and lots of rage.

Now that I’ve gotten some solid rambling in, I’ll circle back to the point of this post, which was to update you on my life or whatever. I’m working at a casting studio right now and contributing to HG as always. I’ve never loved anything more than I’ve loved writing for them, but you already knew that. I move around a ton at the casting studio, which is super exciting and different than any other place I’ve ever worked. I love the people in the studio and it just feels really good to have a tad more structure in my life. I can’t say I have a single full-time job, but I’ve successfully made some baby steps towards establishing myself in this crazy industry. I’m writing my own web series, which I do not intend to shoot or produce at this time. I’m just trying to stay busy writing and build up a portfolio for myself.

I’m also wearing glasses now! They hurt my head after a while but I’m adjusting well:

They even gave me chocolate to go with my purchase!

Things are good, but I’m excited about going on vacation with my boyfriend in a few days. Can’t wait to just unwind and enjoy mimosas.

Speaking of things that are hard to believe, I can’t believe I’ve been with this guy for almost nine months now! Here we were in the beginning:

First photo together, taken in November 2013. I was still a little reserved at that point!
First photo together, taken in November 2013. I was still a little reserved at that point!
Andddd this was May. Not so shy here, huh?
Andddd this was May. Not so shy here, huh?
At his birthday this month
At his birthday dinner this month

I don’t want to write too much about the dude, as, unlike me, he’s a fairly private individual (opposites attract!), but I will say he’s truly the best part of my life, and I have a lot of positive things going for me. He makes me want to be better every single day, and it took meeting him for me to realize life could be so much more rewarding and fulfilling with the right person. I don’t care if I’m never published again or go completely under the radar. I can have the worst career ever and still be happy because I’ve got him in my life. Love is all that matters to me. I just happen to have other things working out for me now too. I’m not exactly where I’d like to be career-wise, but I’ve come a long way. And I’m so thrilled for what the next year is going to bring.

Proof that 9-year-old me was just as serious about writing as 25-year-old me

Vegas 1999, because I was such a rager in fifth grade!
Vegas 1999, because I was such a rager in fifth grade!

I’ve probably posted about this before, but while I was cleaning out my computer files today, I stumbled upon a snapshot of my 1997 journal. It was a composition book, of course, because Harriet the Spy used one and I had to be just like her, even if it meant nearly breaking into my neighbor’s house for a little too much adventure.

Had my plan to enter her kitchen actually worked out, maybe I would have ended up on the news for being an impressionable elementary school student, and Harriet’s phenomenal success would have been to blame. Thank God I wasn’t as sneaky as Michelle Trachtenberg’s onscreen persona. Who knows where I’d be now … maybe in jail!

Anyway, here’s a funny one-liner from my October 7, 1997 entry, “I was the best writer in the class, including the teacher.” Should have been an early sign to my parents that I’d always cause trouble with my writing!

laura 2

laura 3

“P.S.: I will write interesting stories.” Have I lived up to that promise, folks? Seventeen years later, I hope so, but more than anything else, I’d like to think I haven’t even begun the best part of the journey. I’ve done lots of writing for the internet and print, and next I hope to dabble into TV shows and film. I’ve been polishing my own scripts lately, but know I’m nowhere near ready to send them anywhere or enter any of those major contests. Screenwriting is complex and collaborative, and sometimes I get overwhelmed with all the steps I must take to tackle it successfully.

I’ve already taken a few introductory courses in TV and film writing, but I’ve always been more of a hands on learner. In other words, I benefit most from producing something rather than listening. Considering the fact that I thought I was a better writer than my teacher in fourth grade, that shouldn’t surprise you. Really, though, I know I have an incredibly long way to go, and I’m going to be more willing to share what I’ve written from here on out. No matter how confident you may feel about your talents, solid feedback is always helpful.

If I could go back, I’d tell 9-year-old me to be nicer to that educator I insulted. At least that lady could spell “honor roll”!

Getting ready for LA’s ‘June Gloom’

uclaSince returning to the West Coast in October, I’ve worn nothing but light clothing everyday. I’ve been legitimately cold once or twice and the warmest thing in my closet is a red and yellow USC sweater that needs to pay a visit to my washing machine. Traffic in LA is enough to make me not want to take a job on the other side of town, but the warm weather never fails me. I’m not sure I could ever live somewhere else, even in northern California, which is way too cold for me now that I’ve been in LA for almost a year and attended college in Tucson, Arizona. I’m a sun dweller until the very end.

While the polar vortex assaulted the East Coast for months on end, I wore dresses and flip-flops outside every single day, thinking nothing of walking across the street for some coffee without even a light sweater. With the exception of traffic, which, yeah, is a big downside, LA makes for easy living. Arm yourself with some SPF 30+ and some sunglasses and you’ll be fine out here. But from what I’ve told, June can get pretty yucky.

Here’s what Curbed LA has to say about the unusual phenomenon:

The recipe for June Gloom requires three ingredients: cold Pacific Ocean water, an ocean current known as the California Current, and a high pressure formation known as the Pacific High: “Usually, the atmosphere gets colder as you head up. But the cold water creates a situation where the air near the water’s surface is colder than the air above it: an inversion. The Pacific High pushes air downward, compressing it and warming it. Together, this forms a stable inversion air that can hold a layer of cloud near the water’s surface like an older brother crouching on an upstart sibling.”

That doesn’t sound good. Even though a recent report suggests that June Gloom might not grace LA with its unwanted presence this year, I won’t let my guard down until more time has passed. That said, I’m not sure I mind a couple weeks of ugliness as I eagerly await the summer. I’m used to the sunshine again, and while I’ll never take it for granted, I can appreciate foggy days too. I find I’m more productive when the weather is dark and there’s nothing outside making me feel bad about typing away on my laptop indoors. I’ve tried writing in nature as well, but all that really does is put a glare on my screen and mess with my process. The gloom will be good for one thing, at least.

The kind of wedding (and bride) that make you think

Last summer, my good friend and fellow writer Nikki Grey published one of the best blog entries I’ve ever read. Titled “Are we defined by our professions?”, she talked about the troubles of defining herself by professional success for a long period of time. Though she had an impressive career as a features reporter in Santa Barbara, she eventually realized her job didn’t have to be her whole life. No matter her career path, she’s still Nikki, and a great companion at that.

A month later, Nikki was engaged to her soulmate Robby, who married her last weekend in Santa Barbara. I had the opportunity to participate in the wedding and invite my own lovely second half to the exciting event.

nikki s

Nikki looked amazing, and though I spent the past few months worrying about how I was going to pay for a lot of the nuptials necessities without a stable employment situation, I’m so glad I got to partake in her flawless day, which none of us will ever forget. It was wonderful to have my boyfriend there as well. We really enjoyed the food, dance floor, and open bar, among other things. Overall it was a blast and I’m bummed out that it’s over … the partying aspect, at least. It’s only just begun for Nikki and Robby! As Robby’s father Don said, this will end up being the day they loved each other the least. Just about the most romantic statement I’ve ever heard.

ian d

I’ve known Nikki for three years now and we’ve both changed considerably since our political journalism days in DC. We bonded quickly because we didn’t fit the DC mold at all, and sure enough, she moved to California once her summer internship ended. I wanted so badly to join her in my home state, and even though I remember telling her one day in Washington, “I could die tomorrow and be in DC and not California,” I toughed it out on the East Coast for another two years, truly suffering through every second of the way. I had fun, sure, but my experiences were mostly negative and trying. I belonged out here with Nikki.

We’re not the same girls who met in summer 2011. She figured out before I did that political journalism isn’t for everyone, and she also learned when she met Robby that life is so much better when you can share it with someone you love. Ian really showed me that, and not only is he the strongest force pushing me to keep going after my dream here, but the reason I know I’ll be OK if entertainment doesn’t work out for me. I could never do anything big again and still be happy as ever because I have him in my life. This is what Nikki was talking about when she wrote her blog post about success, and it’s so rewarding to see her start a successful life with her husband Robby.

They’re moving to Seattle right after their honeymoon, which started today, and while I’ll miss having the ability to just drive two hours to see my pals, I’m excited for them to embark on this new adventure together as a married couple. They’ll make friends, adjust to a new environment, and hopefully grow their family at some point. Nikki and Robby know they’ll be fine because they will always have each other. This theme is covered in lots of films and TV shows, but there’s something special about experiencing and seeing it. I first saw it in Nikki and Robby, and now I see it in my own relationship.

Here’s to a couple with amazing values, love, and priorities. Thank you Nikki and Robby for sharing it all with us this weekend. I love you both dearly.


Why I’m finally taking ownership of my time

A number of friends and family members have remarked that I attract some pretty unusual folks. All my life, strangers and acquaintances have come bearing their souls to me and confessed an assortment of things, and while I’m flattered so many people trust me, being everyone’s “go-to” person is exhausting, and I’d like to focus on owning my time and giving it to the key players in my world: my current and future employers, my LA buddies, my childhood and college friends, my good friends residing in other parts of the country, my family, and my boyfriend. I can be there for others, of course, but not to the extent I’ve been for far too long.

Since elementary school, I’ve been told I’m “too nice.” Not everyone would stand by that assessment, and believe me, I have my icy moments, but I generally give people the benefit of the doubt and try to go the extra mile for friends of any kind, whether they’re acquaintances or pals from the past. I’ve sent out many online introductions, exchanged dozens of emails, and talked through the personal problems of folks I don’t even really know. I’ve certainly needed help and advice before, so while I have no problem doing small favors for others, I haven’t been so great at drawing the line.

Acting like a dork before going on TV
Acting like a dork before going on TV

A while ago, a buddy of mine asked how I got on TV. I’ve been invited onto Pivot and various news outlets a few times, so I said that was the only way to score a television appearance. I reiterated that I haven’t done all that much TV work and that he really ought to talk to Elizabeth Plank, my rockstar former colleague who goes on TV a lot, for advice on making it happen.

“Well, Liz is basically a celebrity now and you’re so approachable, so I would rather speak with you.”

On one hand, I am happy to hear I’m approachable, but by all means, so is Liz, who is actually capable of answering a question of that nature, unlike me. I know it should make me feel happy to know people rush to me for guidance, and it really has been this way for many years, but what my friend said was telling of how others view me. When it comes to time, I am too selfless for my own good, and that’s about to change. I’m a person too, and when I overdo it with favors, there’s nothing left for me. It’s also very easy to take advantage of newbies to the entertainment industry, and boy, have I learned how to detect users. One came in the form of a Hollywood savant who cut me off when I said I didn’t have time to assist with a project. I was aggressively job-hunting to get on my feet, and though this was a reasonable move for me to make, it was not well-received by the other party. I am a good person, but I won’t allow anyone to walk all over me, and if somebody cannot understand why seeking employment is important, I don’t want that energy in my own life.

My good friend Nikki noticed this the moment we met. She was interning at the Daily Caller, where I was working as an editor, and pulled me aside one night to say I needed to be tougher and stick up for myself.

“Laura, why do you think the interns all flock to you like you’re their mother? You don’t value yourself.”

Nikki was right then and she’s right now. Three years later, I value myself the way I should, but I’ve been taking baby steps, and the next one is to value my time. I can’t be engaging in long-winded, neverending Facebook chats and texts when I’m with relatives, good friends, or my boyfriend. I have to be fully present, and that’s been difficult given my tendency to solve the problems of others no matter what I’m doing or who I’m with. No one has ever complained about me being on the phone, but I just don’t want to keep this up.

I’ve been very generous with my time and connections for a while, but right now, I’m practicing the art of saying “no,” not because I’m upset with anyone, but because it’s important to set my personal boundaries. It is the only way I’m going to make it in this industry, and in life. I am excited to get to work again, and once I am gainfully employed, I will only have time for my managers and those closest to me — on a regular basis, of course. I love being considered a kind friend to all, but I can still be nice and take ownership of my time.

Why I’m getting 4 checkups in 2 weeks (don’t worry, I’m fine!)

dad44Next month marks the 8-year anniversary of my dad’s passing, and as some of you know, he died less than 6 months after being diagnosed with liver disease. I always dread the approach of May 12, mostly because certain folks seem to want me to fall apart when all I want to do is think of something else and not conjure up old feelings or engage in a pointless sobfest. That’s harsh, but I have no interest in being sad for the sake of being sad. Just because an anniversary comes up doesn’t mean I’m going to squander an entire day to drown in sorrow. It doesn’t help me in any way.

That said, I’d be lying if I claimed what happened to him doesn’t color the way I live my own life. He got sick partly because he made poor health choices, and listening to the advice of medical professionals could have given him some extra years with me. He could have met my amazing boyfriend and been there for my wedding. He could have been a wonderful grandfather to my future kids, and it kills me to know he’ll be nothing more than a redheaded guy in digital photos to them. Things might have turned out differently had he eaten better, exercised, and prioritized his health, but by the time he identified his problem, it was too late to fix.

One might think I’d be a health nut to avoid my dad’s tragic fate. Following his death in 2006, I certainly was. It was also my first year of college, and while my roommate and her sorority friends were out drinking at Anything But Clothes parties, I was reading the student newspaper in our dorm, obsessing over whatever widespread illness was being reported in the Health section. At the beginning of second semester, I saw an article about a student getting MRSA from the university’s gym equipment, and the listed symptom was having patchy, red skin. Sure enough, I’d been to the rec center and noticed some red spots by my ankles, so I rushed to the student health center that week and begged to be examined. The nurse took one look at me and said I was fine. She cursed the paper for instilling unnecessary fear in readers, but I’m fairly certain I was the only one crazy enough to actually go to the doctor after reading a 300-word clip on MRSA by a novice journalist.

I also had some unusual stomach issues during that time, so I spent much of my first year at UA visiting doctors all over Arizona. I saw a couple

At my uncle's wedding party in 2005
At my uncle’s wedding party in 2005

specialists in Tucson and also traveled up to the Mayo Clinic in Scottsdale on a few occasions. It turned out I was in good shape and didn’t have what my father suffered from, but behaving like a hypochondriac and worrying about sicknesses I didn’t actually have ruined the first year of college for me. What should have been a fun time before the workload got insane revolved around hospital appointments, invasive procedures, and making small talk with sickly old people in waiting rooms. I should have been socializing on campus and growing into my adult self, but instead I was sobbing on the phone to my concerned mom and saying I didn’t want to end up like dad.

I was burned out by my fears towards the end of freshman year, so in fall 2007, I chose to take a break from doctors and enjoy college like a teenager should. I’d previously gone to a jaw specialist for my severe TMJ, but the bi-weekly physical therapy became exhausting, time-consuming, and pricey, not just for me but my family as well. I was ready for a break, which I’ve indulged until this week.

It’s been about seven years since I last addressed my jaw problems and visited a primary physician. I see a lady doctor every year, and as you can probably gather, this isn’t a lovely experience. Seeing a doctor is never something to look forward to, but taking care of one’s health is essential to life.

This conversation came up with my boyfriend two days ago, when I admitted I hadn’t had a physical since middle school. The last time I went in for one, I was 13. That was half my life ago, a fact he rightfully deemed unacceptable.

“It’s bad enough that women have to get annual pap smears,” I said, “but physicals too? Hell no. I really hate how they force me to repeat my problems over and over again to nurses and various doctors. It just makes me feel worse about whatever’s going on.”

“Laura, no one is forcing you to do anything,” he said. “It’s your life, and it’s a privilege to be able to go to a doctor. I want you around a long time.”

He was spot on, and I’m not simply living for myself and my relatives anymore. I have him to live for, and if I’m going to schedule a slew of checkups at once, I’ll do it for him.

I’m just afraid to meet with all the doctors I’m planning on seeing in the next week because I can’t take the negative. After watching a parent die for nearly half a year, I can’t take another doctor telling me that my TMJ/TMD is “severe” and awful, I can’t take another doctor telling me to stop being such a nervous person and chill out, I can’t take another conversation about how my love for junk food might make me feel crummy and lethargic at times. I’m not thrilled about the uncomfortable chats of the next 14 days, but like Ian said, this is my life, and it’s better to know about all of the things that might need fixing than remain blissfully ignorant until the damage becomes irreparable.

We’ll see if I can stomach the physical on Thursday, but that’s only the beginning. Next week I’m seeing an eye doctor as well as a TMJ/TMD specialist, who will surely spout something along the lines of, “Holy crap, your jaw clicks too much and it’s destroying your cartilage.” Like my late dad, I’m not in perfect health, but it’s time to acknowledge that in a smart, non-obsessive manner, and I see no harm in meeting with them a few times a year. Without my health, I’m nothing, and I won’t let my body suffer because my mind can’t deal with reality.

At Stanford hospital with my mom. He was texting me while this photo was being taken!
At Stanford hospital with my mom. He was texting me while this photo was being taken!

Surviving the worst migraine ever

Since moving from NYC to southern California, life has been easier in lots of ways. I wear jeans and a t-shirt daily, no longer get shoved in the subway, and finally have access to quality burritos. But the driving, pollen, and weather changes have proven to be taxing on my body, and I get some pretty bad migraines as a result.

Yesterday I woke up with severe pain on the top left portion of my head. As I told my boyfriend Ian, it felt like a rock was shaking around in there, but I figured eating some toast would help me feel better. As soon as I got back to my own house, I was vomiting in the bathroom, and I didn’t stop until 6: 30 p.m., when I dragged myself to Vons to buy some Gatorade and saltines. You see, I was so ill from the migraine that I dehydrated myself, and I couldn’t even drink water without spitting it right back up and shaking uncontrollably. In the checkout line, I asked for two bags. One for my purchases and another for, well, you know. As soon as I hopped into the car, I got sick once again, but after drinking the Gatorade, all was well. Sometimes water simply isn’t enough to nurse you back to health.

My mom was visiting from northern California, so I met her at the hotel at 7:15. An hour later, she said I looked 100 percent better and that the color had returned to my face, perhaps because I’d eaten almost an entire sleeve of saltines and downed one of my Gatorades. When Ian met us for dinner, he mentioned that I didn’t look like myself, which made me laugh because my mother had just said I looked way healthier. I skipped my entree but had some coffee and ice cream, which totally hit the spot. My energy returned and I was functional again. But I also knew to be more careful for the next migraine.

If your migraines are so awful that you throw up, remember to drink water no matter what. If you can’t keep that down, have some Gatorade on hand to fill you with electrolytes. Whatever you do, don’t sit around thinking it will all be over with some sleep. I made that mistake and ended up foaming at the mouth on my bathroom floor. Having lived in southern Arizona, I’ve had some terrible cases of dehydration before, but nothing like this. I promise not to put myself through it ever again, and the ways to avoid migraines for me are:

1. drinking enough water

2. getting enough sleep

3. not skipping meals

4. having 1-2 cups of coffee per day

Happy to say this perked me up in the evening, but coupled with the excess rest I had in the evening, I had trouble falling asleep last night:

Keurig coffee maker
Keurig coffee maker

Coffee and Gatorade will never let you down.

I went back on TV and it was awesome!

A couple of months ago, I was invited to appear on the wonder TakePartLive on Pivot, and last night I returned for another excellent panel! After a tough week, it was nice to receive the invitation and once again be treated so well by the spectacular channel.

I had my own dressing room, and before getting my makeup done, I took this daffy photo of myself. I’m not going to say “selfie” because that mutation of a word makes my skin crawl, but I guess this picture kind of fits the bill. Don’t hate me for being an annoying wide-eyed guest! I can’t help it that I always look bewildered.


I started the night with one of these and refused to set it down until they had to set up my mic:

Moon-eyed delight1
Moon-eyed delight!

Then I chatted with these awesome folks about extreme workouts:



Great time for sure! Hopefully I’ll be asked back again — I finally feel like I’m getting the hang out it. Check out the clip here but just keep in mind that it expires after April 3, so watch while you still can!