July 10, 2014
Today is a big day. Officially moving out of my apartment. I haven’t actually lived there since May but I still had a lot of my stuff there. It’s been super stressful trying to move everything out without actually having a place to store it. So I’m spread between Tara’s house and Anna Rose’s place (aka AR. Quick intro: met at Brick, actor, writing partner, and most positive and inspiring person in my life. I consider her a best friend.) Can’t stress enough how lucky I am to have these people in my life.
I thought yesterday was my last time at the apartment but of course, there’s still something there I need to get. I didn’t have room for the microwave, so after Mike gives me the clear that he’s at work, I head over. We have definitely communicated via text through this whole thing, but I wish we communicated more on all our shared stuff. I felt like I was taking too much, so I would leave some for him. Dumb on my part. Mike’s not taking any of this stuff with him. He’s a guy. And he’s going to stay with friends so he has no room for kitchen supplies (of all things). I left him a mixing bowl that I actually really like because I felt bad taking it. Literally went back and forth with myself if I should take it. A fucking bowl. So I walk in to get the big stuff and my awesome mixing bowl is in the trash. What the F.
Obviously, I take it out and bring it with me, but not before giving the apartment one last look. It’s really hard to look at this empty apartment and not be reminded of when we first moved in about two years ago. We slept on the floor because we didn’t have a bed yet. We were so excited to have our own place. Excited for the future… and all that stuff.
I get in the car and can’t stop crying. If you don’t want to cry, don’t get in your car and drive somewhere. It’s literally waterworks.
Once I reach ARs I’m much better. Stroll into her place (at this point, I have a key) and there’s my favorite dog, Birdie. She doesn’t get up from the couch to greet me as she usually does. Instead she rolls over onto her back so I can pet her belly. Well hello, Birdie. She has that look on her face like she just took a shit in the apartment. Why do you look so guilty? I don’t have to look far. Right next to her head are my sunglasses. Chewed to shit. She murdered them. Dead. Ah, fuck, they were really nice (a gift, obviously, because I can’t afford really nice sunglasses). I text AR immediately, which is stupid because what can she do? It’s my fault anyway, I left them somewhere in the apartment and Birdie found them. I just need to vent about it. Which I definitely should not have done because it just makes AR feel bad, and looking back I feel like an asshole for doing it. But in this moment, I’m very mad at Birdie. Bad dog.
AR gets home and I step out to make a phone call. It’s a big one. I met with an agent last week and he said to call him today to find out if they wanted to sign me or not. I can’t call in front of AR. I’m too nervous. So I go in my car. I call. This agent is a fast-talking, cursing, no-nonsense, Jew. When I interviewed with him, I asked him what roles he saw me playing. “Fuck, Caucasian girl, 20’s. I’m going to submit you for everything.” Perfect.
So I make the call. It’s fast. “We want to sign you.” Great. “Can you come in Monday to sign the paperwork?” Yes. “Great, see you then.” And that’s pretty much it. I hang up and scream. Yay!!! I have an agent. I run back into ARs and we freak out together. I think she might even be more excited than me.
“What do you have the rest of the day?” Well I have work later. “You should go look at that apartment.” This is one of the many reasons I love Anna Rose. I just want to sit here and be excited and she’s moving on to the next thing. Opportunities are everywhere. Why would I wait to see the apartment tomorrow when I can go today? “If you wait, it’s gonna be gone.” Fine, you’re right.
I call the lady to see if I come can come today and she says yes, at 4 o’clock. Anna Rose comes with me. We’re the first ones to arrive. Tara actually told me about the place, because it’s her doula’s house. The lady who basically birthed Tara’s first child is renting out her remodeled garage in the backyard. I’m thinking this will probably be a no, because I would have to go into the house to use the bathroom, and that’s kind of a deal breaker, but you can’t beat the location.
Giuditta is wonderful. This cool, older, Italian hippy lady. I like her. I knew I would (Tara said that Giuditta is literally her favorite person in the entire world). I’m not sure what she thinks of me, until she finds out I’m a Virgo. “You’re a Virgo? Oh, you’re in. The place is yours.” It’s a joke, but I’m feeling pretty good about the whole exchange. And I love the place.
Later that night, I get the call from Giuditta that the place is mine. So I literally moved out of my old apartment the same day I found a new one… and I got an agent. I think they call that kismet. Pretty awesome day. Things are looking up.