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Naoms
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Name: Naomi
Country: United States
State: California
Metro: Los Angeles
Gender: Female
Interests: wallowing in the possibilities, doing the next thing, loving people, laughing, enjoying life.
Expertise: working hard, believing things always work out for the good, never giving up.
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
Member Since:
10/29/2005
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| I'm tired. I worked a good chunk of hours this last week. It wasn't much considering others work 60, 70 and, if they are crazy, 80 hours a week . . . but it seemed like a lot to me. Friday Night and Saturday (9-5) was spent at a small church across the street from the Disney Company's Burbank Offices doing training for volunteer work at Avenues Crisis Pregnancy Center in Glendale. The training was pretty good - our leader verbose, somewhat flighty and easily distracted . . . but the owner of a true heart of gold. I will be picking up one shift a week, starting next month sometime. It should be a challenging, stretching and rewarding addition to my life.
Work is going well. I will find out on Wednesday whether or not I will be in front of a camera interviewing the nominees of the Independent Spirit awards at the IFC after-party this Saturday night. Yeah . . . last Tuesday, my boss gave me a card for a makeup artist and hairstylist he trusted. Then he paused and said, "Oh and of course, we will have to get you a dress." What?
My sister and I spent today at Disneyland - which was fun . . . except for the fact that it was President's Weekend and the park was packed. But we adapted to the long lines and huge crowds, went with the flow and managed to have quite a bit of fun. We took silly pictures, talked a lot, waited a lot, dreamed a lot.
Now I'm exhausted, low on energy and enthusiasm . . . but there is always tomorrow. :)
In other news, I discovered last weekend when I went home to visit my family that since moving to LA I've lost ten pounds. What the? Now that I have a more stable job (aka a job I want to keep), I guess I can give up the mentality that groceries are a small once every three weeks type of thing. I've also discovered that my parents are, now that they are alone again with a pretty much empty nest, like a newly dating couple. It's kinda cute . . . and makes moving out and starting my own life feel much less harmful to our tight, cohesive family unit.
And really, my life is starting. Ultimately, I think/hope I will be completely taking over the editing of the IFA website, going to pre-screenings and premieres so I can write reviews (and make connections with industry peeps) and working as a reporter/interviewer for special events and awards throughout this next year. If I work at it long enough and hard enough, I could then begin to move my way up as a film critic for magazines like the Hollywood Reporter, Variety or Entertainment Weekly . . . or ultimately the LA Times. And somewhere in there I can start writing for TV. And somewhere in there I can sell screenplays. And then I could write novels. And then plays for the stage. And then . . . and then . . . and then . . .
The sky is the limit. And I am really, really understanding/seeing/believing that . . . again . . . for the first time in awhile.
And that feels really, really good.
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| Sometimes I care - deeply, passionately, with all that I've got. And sometimes I really don't. It's quite shocking to recognize the difference. Staggering really. I know I'm making it sound like my heart is a beast that can't be controlled, that it has a mind of its own and a will to which it makes everything bend but . . . that's true actually . . . and at the same time, very much not true. There is a steady hand attempting to reign in the endless striving and contending with whispers of peace. It seems I am great at rationalizing things. I see things in black and white and somehow manage to accept both without making gray. But I'm discovering there is beauty in gray - the gray of a great job I never saw coming my way, the gray of undefined friendships, the gray of fuzzy future ambitions. I've been so focused all my life on the future - on what I am going to do, going to achieve, going to strive after - that I've forgotten to take the practical steps in the here and now that are necessary to get where I want to go. There is beauty in these steps - it's called life - and I think I'm just figuring out how to live it. I'm forever pinning my happiness, contentment, peace on the fufillment of some future goal, on an upcoming event, on a place, on a person. When I reach that goal, that event, that place, that person . . . I'm always disappointed. Happiness, contentment and peace are there . . . but slip quickly through my tightly clasped hands and swirl gently away to rest in the shadow of yet another goal, another place, another person. Deep down, I know where I am truly content - where not for one second does a doubt or worry or concern creep its way into my mind. And I love it there. I miss it when I don't visit it . . . daily, when I haven't gotten my fix. But the problem is that I can't live there - I have to leave. I'm only allowed to come for small snipets of time and then I must go. I leave with a smile on my face and warmth in my heart . . . but always manage to get off track again. I find myself unsatisfied and in need of another fix. This life it seems is very much like a drug. | | |
| Some how . . . I landed a sweet job. That's all.  | | |
| Overall was it a good year?: Pretty good. Been in a lot of different places . . . both physically and mentally - home after the best semester of my life in Los Angeles, hating and loving Westmont, working and planning in BVS, driving cross country and outlining a year long stint as a truck driver, living and dreaming in Los Angeles. Name one thing you would change about 2006: I have this (sometimes) unfortunate tendency to believe even bad experiences teach you something good. Your biggest mistake in 2006: Boys . . . but . . . please see previous answer. Your biggest success in 2006:: Graduating from Westmont, moving to LA . . . and not being broke after two months.
Did you make any new friends this year?: My thought process - Did I make any new friends this year? I don't know . . . Oh my gosh! I don't think I did! Blind panic ensues coupled with a huge desire to run down to Ralphs and make a new friend in the check-out line. But then a beam of calm reasoning shoots through my head and I realize that I did make a lot of new friends . . . I just can't remember life without them. Got a job?: Not any more . . . and by my own choice. God, I never thought I would see this day. New boyfriends/girlfriends?: Some boys making some noise . . . but no. Any breakups?: Yes and no.
Most important thing you learned in 2006:: Sometimes you don't get to be part of the battle. Sometimes you don't even get to watch the battle. Sometimes . . . you're just supposed to wait. Family life in 2006 Any new members to your family in 2006?: A cousin named Avery. He's at the stage where he can almost crawl - aka he smashes his face into the floor/my hand, raises his butt into the air and scoots forward about half an inch. Quite adorable actually. Lose any family members this year?: Fortunately, no. Miss your family this year?: Yes and no. Did you get along with your family in 2006?: Yes and no. Did you go on a family vacation in 2006?: Oregon - Shakespeare Festival, hiking along the rim of Crater Lake, relaxing at the Sunriver Condos and jet boat rides on the Rouge River. Oh and does Disneyland count?
Favorite family memory in 2006?: Performing the Vacation Bible School drama skits as a fam. Random questions about 2006
Did you move in 2006?: Los Angeles baby. Did you get a new hairstyle this year?: Bangs. Haven't had bangs since second grade. Oh and I darkened it - first time ever. It's also the longest it's been in ahwile. New car?: Nothing could replace the Tribute.
Favorite thing about 2006: All the possiblities. Most hated thing about 2006: All the possiblities. What was the coolest thing you did in 2006?: Drove across the country with one of my best friends, moved, graduated, lived life on fast-foward for awhile and was actually able to keep up.
Favorite movie of 2006?: Toss up between Little Miss Sunshine - I haven't laughed that hard in a movie . . . ever, A Very Long Engagement - Love does exist- Imagine that!, and The Devil Wears Prada - Can we say, my job?
Your motto on life from 2006: "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming." Strangest person you met in 2006?: There was this girl in the elevator wearing a velour cape that cascaded dramatically to the ground. I was delighted, smiled a huge smile in her direction and received a piercing glare in return. I stood in the elevator, puzzling and puzzling . . . until I glanced down at my shades, my purse, my shoes. I wanted to yell, "I'm just like you! Really! I just don't look like it." But she was already gone. Where did you spend most of your time in 2006, other than your home?: Probably in the car. Did you have any car accidents in 2006?: Got a speeding ticket. Sometimes . . . in my head . . . there is a race way commentator - "And the car in lane number three breaks out and into the lead." Fun . . . but not very conducive to obeying speed limits. Would you be happy if 2007 turns out to be like 2006?: It'll be better. They always are. | | |
| The corner of Wilshire and Sepulveda never ceases to have a small cropping of homeless individuals seated in the nooks and crannies of its shadowy underpass. They seem to bond together there, sharing clothes, space and signs which read "Hungry . . . Please Help. God Bless You!" I've often wanted to stop - wanted to give whatever I have, sit down and talk with these people for a while. Get to know them, figure out who they are, listen to their stories, learn what it is they dream about. After the first day of my commute to work, I took to carrying some food with me so I would be prepared for just such an encounter . . . But life is funny. In a city full of traffic, I haven't failed to get a green light at that intersection every single day. Every day that is . . . until Thursday night. My boss had treated me to lunch . . . and rather than eat what she bought me, I secretly saved it . . . and prayed all day for a red light and an individual to give to. Evening came and with it the commute home . . . and low and behold, a red at Wilshire Blvd. I turned my stereo off, grabbed my bag of food and scanned the corner, my heart in my throat. An old woman rose from the shadows and shuffled toward the line-up of shiny Lexus's, BMWs and Mercedes. Her eyes boldly strayed from one driver to the next, the sign held before her shouting a clear and humble request. And I watched as the heads in front of me turned busily toward the interior of their cars, looking intently for "something" or carrying out some urgent and pretended task. I rolled down my window and held my bag towards her. She spotted the proffered gift and her pace quickened. "Thank you sweetie . . . God bless you." Her voice was elegant, melodic even. Her eyes intense and powerful. She quickly tucked the bag away, into the depths of her tattered coat and shuffled on . . . her gaze turning towards the other cars, the other drivers, the other possible gifts. That's it? The light turned green and I numbly rolled my window back up, my eyes locked on her frame in my rearview mirror. Euphoria. Hope. Joy. A Name. These were the things I had expected . . . but not this . . . not this profound disappointment. Friday morning came . . . and with it another red at Wilshire Blvd. I sat quietly in my car and watched as the same woman shuffled into the same street, with the same sign, the same piercing stare. And for a moment I panicked . . . because I had nothing to give, had forgotten to pack a lunch. Maybe she won't see me. Maybe the light will turn green. Maybe . . . She spotted me . . . and her face lit up with a smile so huge I thought it was going to swallow me. I waved - surprised and touched. She waved back, or rather, convulsively tossed her arms about with powerful excitement and scampered quickly up to my car. "God bless you, Sweetie. God bless you so much. You have a wonderful weekend you hear?" There was no hint or request for more . . . just merely a screaming desire to express her gratitude. "You too." The light turned green. I rolled up my window . . . and cried. I am willing to forego lunch any day. | | |
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