At LAX waiting for my flight to London I decided to take my pre-flight tradition of a glass of champagne to the next level.
2 glasses of champagne.
3 bottles of wine on the plane.
I was pissed.
Full disclosure: I spilt the last glass of wine all over myself. It was dark. There was (minor) turbulence.Read More
After getting off the plane in L.A., protecting my energy for despondent sad losers and realising there’s no 12 Step Fail Proof Plan That Someone Can Take To ‘Making It As A Screenwriter, the games began.
Tribute after tribute of thoughts came flooding into my mind as to how I was going to make this whole screenwriting thing work.
Welcome to The How-ger Games.Read More
Getting off the plane the complete opposite of fresh faced and quietly shitting myself that after 14 hours I was going to have to drive 55 minutes on the opposite side of the road to my Airbnb, I’d arrived in L.A. and I was excited.
Fast forward 72 hours and that excitement turned into WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PLACE!?
So, what happened from the time I got off the plane ready to hell yes all over L.A. to hell fucking no?
The energy.Read More
We all went around the circle trying to outdo each other. It was my turn.
How ridiculous could I make this statement? A combination of a bow and gymnastics stance, I declared:
They all clapped and cheered.
I'm going to say something that scares you first, and then will free you.
You, the world, your business, your loves, your clients… EVERYTHING + EVERYONE + ANYTHING that exists isn’t perfect.
I've been a judgemental bitch for years, because I thought that somehow, everything and everyone and anything should be perfect.Read More
The last two words of my pilot. I finished it. Finally.
But really, those two words signified the beginning.
The beginning of my life long journey to coming home.
You know, that feeling when you just breathe and settle and the search is over.
For me, coming home is becoming a screenwriter.Read More
Not giving a fuck.
It’s the phase that badass rap dreams are made of.
It’s the epitome of what society should be aiming for.
It’s a motto for how to live your life.
Apparently, it’s life changing to not give a fuck.
And it’s just been drawn to my attention that even though I’ve got a reputation for not giving fuck, I’m here to tell you this:
I give a fuck.Read More
I want to look good.
But when it’s over 25 degree (celsius) I don’t want to wear make up or spend 20 minutes with my head under blasting hot air.
I want to wear heels.
But fuck sore feet.
I want to have an office that costs $10,000 to deck out, thereby making me look like not only have I got my shit together but I'm totes inspiring.
But I live in a rental house and my office is currently what used to be a 10 year old girls room with purple walls.
I want to shop at Chanel.
But every time I’m in the city I’m wearing a nike hoodie and sneakers and a top that has some sort of unidentifiable stain because I'm one of those eaters.
I want it all.
The make-up-free, and fancy-free life.
And I want all the fancy too.Read More
It was 1997.
Having been a late adopter with Friends, I was rocking the Rachel do, except, because I was an awkward almost-teen, I didn’t know how to style the thing so it looked like more like shaggy than chic.
It was a Saturday morning. I was at my friend’s house. TV Hits was playing in the background where pop hit after pop hit was played until there it was, the unmistakable guitar riff, the syncopated beats that to this day no one can seem to cover, and the sweet vocals of the one and only Taylor Hanson.