Burbank to Brooklyn

I'm moving to New York.

Dearest friends, I cannot tell you how hard it's been to say, type or admit those words in these last few days.  But it's true.  It's time to hitch up the wagon, and take the circus to another town.
I will be moving 2, 796.4 miles on May 5, 2014.

Hitched to my wagon will be my beloved weave, wig & merikin collection, vintage marijuna bottles & baggies, every printed copy of LA Weekly, In-N-Out burgers cryogenically frozen awaiting consumption moments into Armageddon, and a fuck load of amazing memories.

My poor roommates and closest friends have watched me boo hoo and cry like the Tin Man in The Wiz.  Contrary to what you might think, I LOVE Los Angeles. I love everything about Southern California and will defend this mothafucka until the day I die. I put that on ev'rythang Joe. Some of my best friends and my spiritual home are here. My sisters, brothers, cousins people who have had my back since I arrived May 10, 2004.  Man--I can't even get into the hole in my heart, when I think about not seeing my friends on a daily basis???? Nope--another blog posting.
 
This has been one of the most difficult and liberating moments of my life. Y'all know I'm an old sentimental fool, so fuck you for laughing at me. When I moved to LA nearly a decade ago, I was fresh off the boat from Chicago. Flat Midwestern accent, 15lbs heavier, hair short and butchy, and a snarl on my face.

"FUCK these muffuckas. I'm gone set off a revolution in this industry."

It was my daily mantra. My modus operendai. My dao. My everything--drumming to the beat of my own sound.  Fast forward 10 years later, the passion has not dissipated, but let me tell you friends--it ain't supposed to be quite like this. I know I deserve better. Especially as an actor. And more opportunities will arise from my writing, directing, and playmaking.  And though it seems light years away, I know one day I'll make a significant impact in world cinema.

"You're not "leaving LA." You didn't fail. Or quit. The endeavors here bore fruit that is now taking you on a road towards NYC. All is well. And unfolding as you and the great God of the Universe designed long before you were cuttin' folks with your switch blade and needing to be bailed out of jail. Smile! And be excited for the next leg of your amazing journey.  Airplanes, phones, emails, and tweets can still make it back to LA when you need some sunshine, hiking, kombuca, and crispy granola hipster vegan assholes and hackneyed movie stars!" xoxoxxo Hoebag

This was a message sent to me from my very dear friend Linara (aka Hoebag). I reached out to her in a tearful panic--nearly overcome with fear, convinced that I couldn't make this move happen--and that I would be seen as this way or that way, or that I didn't quite hit the career goals that I set---that financially my house always seemed out of order---OR: I actually like driving. I don't wanna be on a public transit with other---people! Humans are gross. Plus as an actor, I sometimes run from call to call. I'm used to changing in my car, so what am I to do now?? Lug some suitcase around with me? Where will I change my clothes running from call to call in between working a real job--

THEN, it hit me: Wait wait wait WAIT WAIT. I don't have to live like that anymore. Why forecast more financial duress?? Changing clothes? Pffft. What if in fact, I don't have to change in public bathrooms and all that jazz--because maybe, just fucking maybe I'LL BECOME AN OFFER ONLY ACTRESS?

And why the fuck wouldn't I be?
Why the fuck wouldn't I be a dope playwright?
Director?
It can all happen in NYC. And who says, I have to worry about a day job? As a matter of fact, I just retired from my day job just 5 days ago. That's right; my working days as a figure model? OVER.
Bigger and better things ahead.

So
So....
After a deep breath, and some help from my friends...here I am--announcing to the world, that I am not a failure.

Doesn't matter if I'm the last in the room to know--but as long as I know it.  And with that friends, I have to resume packing.

If I have not been able to spend time with you personally, please accept my humble apologies. Moving is incredibly stressful and mind boggling. Especially coastal moves--Again, I love you and I'm sorry if my leaving bums you out. I hope that you will love me, like I love you.

So, that's the word mummy's possum. Brooklyn's newest resident is a little black girl with freckles, called Slick.

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