Love Love Love June 25, 2009

I find myself in a completely happy state. I’ve moved into an apartment by myself. I love it. Yes, the rent is higher than I would prefer, but it’s worth it.  I’ll pay more for my solitude, a space I can call my own.  People always ask “Don’t you get lonely living by yourself?” Absolutely not.  I love me-time. Besides, it’s across the street from work. Literally.  It’s the best commute I’ve ever had, hands down.

A perfect segue, work has been great. The projects may not be the coolest, but I’m getting to edit, not assist. Not bad for 23, especially in a time when people are jumping for any job. I am really lucky. Even when I feel burned out on a project, I have to step back and say “Look at what you’re doing. Look where you are.  Look at all the opportunities that will be a direct result of what you are doing.”

It’s bittersweet. While I’m growing and learning, I’m missing my niece and nephew grow up and all things I used to call home.  I’m so used to my residences being temporary. My life has been home, dorm, apartment, Germany, dorm, Dallas apartment, home, LA house, and now LA apartment.  I keep thinking, “Okay, when am I leaving to go some place else?”  But this is it. I will probably be here at least 5 years. This is my life out here, not anyone else’s.  Without sounding selfish, everything out here concerns me alone.  In the past, I’ve just been making decisions to get me to this state of independence. Now what? I take it one day at a time, I suppose. All in all, I love my life.

It helps that I have a partner in crime. He keeps me sane. Since we’re both “transplants” we don’t buy into the LA hype. We know it’s all nonsense.  Except for the working out and healthier eating. We’ve bought into that, but is that necessarily a bad thing? He’s good for me, and I’m good for him, I think. He helps me to not take things so seriously, which helps me stay a kid at heart. I’ll always be 12 years old, and not just in looks. Get it? I made a pedophilia joke. ‘Cause I look young…anyways.

So amid whatever gets me down from time to time, I have to look up and realize that I have it pretty good.  Tragedy may strike all around and you may feel like your world is crumbling, but you can get through it.  It’s funny how as you get older, the things that you think are the end of the world get progressively more serious.  Looking back, the things you worried about seem so silly.  It’s all part of growing up, I suppose.

Love Love Love – Tristan Prettyman

I’m a Super Nerd April 3, 2009

5up3rN3rd

So I have this T-Shirt that I have quite an affinity towards. (*see photo) Nerd is what nerd does, making me a pretty big nerd. However, it dawned on me that this nerdy shirt wasn’t accurately nerdy. The right triangle has “a,” “b,” and “c” corresponding to its sides, alluding to the Pythagorean Theorem, of course. Any nerd, or anyone that has taken a basic geometry course, can quote “a squared plus b squared equals c squared.” (If you are that rusty that this has slipped your memory: Pythagorean Theorem) “C” is the hypotenuse (the angled side).  My shirt, unfortunately, labels the hypotenuse as “a.”

Fail.

As if it wasn’t pathetic enough that I was able to come to this realization, I made the pictorial representation on a Friday night.

Life in the slow lane December 29, 2008

Life has  been so hectic and busy in LA.  If I’m not currently working on something, I am planning my next move.  It’s because of this that I tend to stay in on the weekends and the evenings.  I appreciate watching tv and staying in bed all day.  So what if I watch Ninja Warrior from 9:30am to 2pm.  That show is amazing.  (I also like to save money, so staying in helps that too.)

However, being home for the holidays has been a refreshing change  of pace. I have been so relaxed. In fact, I leave my phone in my room downstairs and just chill all  day. I didn’t even get out of my pj’s today. Yeah. I’m that lazy. I also beat Portal in under 6 hours. Ok, so I’m a dork too.

Amid all that I am not thinking about work or what I have to take care of. I had forgotten how laid back everything was in the midwest. It’s really nice. Even if I have things to get done, everything is so accessible and efficient. It takes me an hour to run the errands  here that it would take  me 4 hours to run in LA.

In the same manner, I’ve transitioned to that weird adult stage where I am the one coming home for Christmas.  As my friend said “you’re my friend from LA now.”  My brother and his family have to go to his wife’s family and my family for Christmases and I have to fly in. It’s a completely foreign concept.

It was strange enough when my brother had a kid and we weren’t the youngest generation anymore. We’re the aunts and uncles at holiday functions now.  Bizarre.

My birthday came  and went with little to no excitement. I mean,  the power went out, leaving us with nothing to do. My mom and I went shopping, so that wasn’t so bad.  It was just so lackluster, and slightly depressing.

My brother called to wish me a happy birthday and said “you’re 22 or 23?”

“23.”

“Jesus.”

“That’s ok. I still look like I’m 17 and  I have the humor of a 10 year old boy.”

“haha. farts.”

Yeah he’s 27.  I told my mom that it is weird to think he will be 30 in 3 years. Then I realized I will be 26 in 3 years. *slap in the face*

In high school I thought I’d be married by 26. Now my thoughts on that are more along the lines of  “hell no.”

This Face…That Commercial November 22, 2008

It’s a funny story really. I was minding my own business, working on some edits when Vinnie popped into my suite.

“We need a picture of someone that looks young for a temp ‘fave 5′ bubble for T-Mobile.”

“Yeah, I know I look like I’m 17, that’s fine.”

We take the picture. It was a total of 2 minutes max for the whole ordeal.  I go back to work.

…2 weeks later…

Jarom walks into my office.

“How do you feel about acting?”

“Umm..What? I’m here to edit in this town, not try to become a starlet. What do you mean?”

“That picture for the fave 5 bubble- they ended up using it, but you’re not Screen Actors Guild. Would you sign a contract that would let them use your picture in the commercial and pay you for it?”

“Uhhh..yeah.”

As a result, I received a generous check in the mail for 2 minutes of work( if you want to call it that). I am also Taft-Hartley. You can read the link, but basically it means that I am eligible to join SAG, but do not have to. That is, unless I am “tapped” to do another SAG job, then I must pay the dues and initiation fee. Those total to roughly $2,100. No thanks.

It’s now more of a joke than anything. Jarom calls me Taft-Hartley. Other people call me starlet. Shaun said I should take the spot to an agent and say “Here is my work. One take.”

This town is crazy and I love the things it throws at me.

What has made me stronger… November 7, 2008

I’m waiting for tapes to come from a shoot so I can log them. I’ve been asking my boss all day, what can I do? Ok what next? It got to a point where he said, “Nothing. Just do something skill building. Make edits for a trailer or something.” I’m like a sponge at this job. When I interned in Dallas I was assisting on edits, working the control room, shipping, logging tapes, client services, being a liaison between our studio and clients, getting sound effects, running errands, and various other tasks that needed to be done around the studio. Hand binding books for a bid for a job until 2am anyone?

The thing is, I loved every minute of it. I love learning all about this business; it fascinates, empowers, and motivates me.  My boss wants our editorial department (him and I) to be self-sufficient, meaning that in theory I would do the same things I mentioned above. However, the LA office is run very differently. Everyone has a their own territorial lines drawn. When I infringe upon their tasks, they seem a bit cross, but I’m not doing their whole job; just the matters that pertain to editorial. On the other hand, when someone asks me to do something and I’ve already done it, or tells me to go through so-and-so to get this done, and I say that I can do it, they are happy. It’s catch 22.

This drive and push for knowledge has kept me on my toes. So that, in conjunction with drinking a quart of liquid a day for 2 weeks after my illness, has made me stronger.

Welcome Back to UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center November 6, 2008

Alisha drove me back to the ER, but I told her she wasn’t going to go back with me this time; she had already done too much.  I checked in again, my temperature a little lower than when I left the house, but the pain in my side was increasing. We ended up waiting a significant amount of time longer than the previous night. Although, it wasn’t all bad.

A little girl was being carried around by her dad. She about 2 and a half or 3. To keep her occupied and quiet, the dad took her over by the TV. ABC was on, touting something about elections and candidates. At the mention of “Obama” and the appearance of his picture, the little girl yells “Obama!” Everyone giggles, including the dad. Realizing she was making people laugh, she continues, “Obama!…Obama!…Obama!” Everyone in the waiting room was laughing. It truly made my experience bearable.

Once I was called back, I hugged Alisha and sent her away. I hobbled back to a different section of the ER, a much smaller section. I liked this because I was getting immediate attention. The nurse was super sweet and very caring.

I was given several tests, blood drawn (anyone that knows me knows how much I love needles…), IV, anti-biotics, and morphine just before I went for an abdominal cat-scan. They said “Boy, you’re going to love this.” I, in fact, did not enjoy the morphine. My chest felt heavy, I felt like I couldn’t breathe because the pressure was too great. My body was panicking, and I had to tell my head it was ok. You really can breathe.

As the other nurse wheeled me to get a cat-scan, I kept my eyes shut tight, feeling both hot and cold from the fever, and now nauseous from the morphine. It didn’t help that I was moving around quickly around corners and that the nurse went the wrong place initially, whipping me around to go the opposite direction. I moaned and said “I feel sick. I think I am going to throw up.”

“You are going to throw up?”

“Yes. I need a bowl or something quick.”

scurries to find a bed pan in a neighboring room…”Here.”

You can assume what followed…I felt better, but still exhausted. They did the cat-scan then wheeled me back to my room where I texted my parents my progress. The doctor confirmed that I did have a bladder infection that made its way to my kidney, resulting in a kidney infection. Actually, that may be more than you wanted to really know…

My parents let my boss know that ER Visit Round 2 was happening. He texted me to see how I was. Asked if I needed anyone to stay with me, give me a ride home or anything. I started to say that I was fine, but he beat me to it by saying “Actually, I’m on my way, see you in a few.” This was 1am mind you.

I should also reiterate that my boss, the editor I assist, is really the only one I know in LA. Having assisted him in Dallas during my internship, we got to know each other on a basic level. He’s a fantastic guy, who knows that I moved out here on a whim without knowing a soul and has been wanting to make sure I’m all right. Needless to say he followed through on that taking care of me concept.

I was hooked up to anti-biotics and trying to get some rest without moving my arm due to the IV. I barely slept before they let me know that my boss was there. He came back and looked at me like I was a puppy that had just been scolded. I must have looked awful. He said, “Saaaaraahh! What are you doing!”

“I thought I’d make my first week interesting. Is it working?”

“I guess so. Although, at least you have a good looking doctor!”

“I know! Too bad I look like hell and I heard a nurse say he just got engaged last weekend. Maybe I should’ve gotten sick last week…”

It went on like that for 30 minutes. He was really good about cheering me up and making sure I had everything I needed, like getting me ice water. I’m really lucky that the few people I know are truly great people.

He wanted me to get some rest while my antibiotic finished and they switched me back to an IV.  I made an attempt to sleep with very little positive results. Eventually they said it was enough liquids, as long as I drank more fluids when I got home.  I got dressed and they gave me my Rx write ups. I walked out to the waiting room to see my boss slumped in a chair asleep. It was 3am after all. I woke him and he drove me home in his Infiniti G37 Coupe. Yeah.

I was instructed to drink plenty of fluids and lots of Gatorade, and start my antibiotics as soon as possible. So what my boss further did was drop off my prescription (the second antibiotic I would be taking, by the way) on his way to his house.  The next morning, he picked up my prescription and a bunch of gatorade on his way to work. I don’t think I can ever repay him for his kindness and assistance.

Between 3am and 8am, I had completely passed out. Well, almost. Around 5 I woke up, and my fever must have broke because I had the strangest experience. I sat up and looked around. I didn’t know where I was, who I was, what I was doing, or what basic human functions were. In my head I thought “What is happening? What do humans do right now? Do they sleep? How do they sleep?….I’m going to lay my head down on this thing and see what happens.” That may sound crazy and unbelievable, but that is because it was.

Before I had left the hospital, I had told my parents the full results, and my dad wanted to make sure I could take care of myself, so he flew out early the next morning. He was at my house by 1pm. He had just left a week prior to leave me at my new residence. When he arrived, he looked at me with same expression on his face as my boss. He made sure I had food, ran errands, and kept me company. He progressively got me to eat normal food, instead of crackers and water. We went from soup to rice to chicken. I progressively got him addicted to Lost.

He stayed through Monday, and Tuesday I was on my own. Wednesday I went to work. Thursday I stayed home. I suppose I tried to master it too soon. I went back in on Friday, and then had the weekend to rest. My sick days were really sick days. I havent taken one since.

Stay tuned (maybe for awhile) to read about my rise to good health. Also, thanks for all the well-wishes and concerns. It was nice to hear friendly words when I felt truly alone and scared.

Welcome to UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center September 5, 2008

So after my 2 hour nap, I realized I should probably eat. I didn’t feel like attempting to cook, so I went to McDonalds. I got a chicken mcnugget value meal with a Sprite (I was on this no dark soda/ caffeine kick) I felt a little odd while driving, but not incapacitated.  I got home and started to eat my mcnuggets. I ate 4. I couldn’t force myself to eat anymore. Shortly after my failed attempt at eating dinner, I started shaking. I crawled into bed. It dawned on me. My temperature. I checked it: 101.6. Oh great. What was the next logical step? 1. Cry. 2. Call Mom and Dad.

Me: I have a 101.6 temperature.
Dad: Oh honey, I’m sorry. Do you have any aspirin or tylenol?
Me: I have excedrin back and body.
Dad: Take that. Rest and relax. We’ll call you back in 30 minutes to check back on your temperature.

…30 minutes pass and I take my temperature…

101.9

Dad: I wouldn’t normally be concerned, except that you have that side pain. Is anyone home?
Me: My roommate, Alisha.
Dad: Your other roommate’s mom is a doctor right? Why don’t you call her and see what you should do.

I called her and she confirmed what I was afraid that it might be: appendicitis. Regardless of the actual case, the symptoms seemed serious and she suggested that I go to the ER. Here’s the new problem. My new insurance wouldn’t kick in until September 1st, and I wasn’t sure if my parents insurance canceled on the day I started work. So she had suggested that I go to UCLA as they were more likely to take me regardless of insurance status. I got my phone charger, phone, and a bottle of water and my roommate drove me to UCLA.

The hospital was really nice, and the front desk was really great. I was put in the system very quickly and had to wait maybe an hour and a half.  It was the actual medical experience.  I will spare you the details about medical specifics, however I will say that they were very negligent on several accounts. They were so negligent, in fact, that I was there until 6:30am. I got to the hospital at about 10pm. God bless my roommate for staying the whole night. She even had to work the next morning, and I had no idea. She basically dropped me off, got changed, and went to work.

Back to the hospital… I was burning up. The nurse took my vitals and then left. I saw no one for at least an hour, perhaps two. No one gave me anything to bring my fever down. I hadn’t really eaten, and no one had given me an IV. I was MISERABLE. Hot and cold, shaking, hungry and thus dizzy all to a point that I started crying; I couldn’t help it. Eventually a doctor came in, checked on me, pushed around on my stomach and my back, essentially karate chopping it. It didn’t hurt on my left side, but when he karate’d the right side of my back..sweet mercy! He said ok, I feel like it may be a bladder infection, something with your ovaries, or appendicitis, we will run tests and find out. He leaves. My roommate and I can see the nurses station. My nurses were just hanging out. They didn’t even begin to start my tests. I’m going to have to be more revealing than I earlier anticipated…for basic storytelling purposes. I knew they had not run my tests because my urine sample was still on the counter. The sample I gave roughly 4 hours ago. I had Alisha tell them that it’s still there. They said ok, we’ll take care of it. No one came for 30-45 minutes. Then they tell me…oh this is too old, we’re going to need a new one. Really? Because we told you to take it 4 hours ago.

After returning back from the bathroom…
Me: Can I have some water or something? I haven’t eaten in a long time.
Nurse: No, sorry, we have to get results from your test first.

Once I got back to my bed, I was really miserable. My temperature was still spiraling out of control; I could feel it.  I started to shake again. I didn’t know whether to cover up or hike up my gown. I had Alisha get a nurse to check my temperature. Thirty minutes later she came in. 103.7 She gave me tylenol, and then eventually motrin because it wouldn’t go down. The doctor came in and said the results looked like a bladder infection that’s made its way to the kidney, or Pyelonephritis. He gave me an IV with antibiotics. I tried to rest. A different nurse took my temperature. 102.4 “Oh my goodness,” she says. The other nurse pops in “Oh, no that’s down.” They leave. I continue to rest. Poor Alisha is bent over in her chair with her head at the foot of my bed.

Eventually the nurse comes in, around 6:15 and says, “As soon as I get your prescription you can leave. Go ahead and get dressed.”

I come out all dressed and Alisha goes to get the car. One nurse asks the other where the prescription is. She replies, “Oh, he hasn’t written it yet.”

I wait around. And I wait. Finally she gives it to me. I walk out of the ER doors..it’s daylight.

Alisha has to hurry to get home, so we don’t drop off my antibiotic. I go home and sleep. My boss had texted me and told me not to bother coming in; he would just send me home. I had left a note for my other roommate to drop off my antibiotic and pick it up, along with some tylenol and motrin. I would’ve gone, but I wasn’t fit to drive.

She got my antibiotic, but not until about 4pm. In the meantime, I had no drugs to keep my fever down, or start to kill the infection. So by the time antibiotics and other drugs got there, my fever had spiked again. Even with the tylenol and motrin, I couldn’t keep it down, which meant another trip to the ER. …Alisha really is a saint…

Let’s lay this all out… September 1, 2008

*I apologize in advance for the lengthiness of this post. It’s a summation of all the events in my first 2 weeks.

I moved from St. Louis to LA for a job that makes me happier than words can describe.  The events that led up to the move were super stressful, I must say: Finishing up my final semester of college, flying out to LA to search for a place to live, working on a wedding video for my best friend, attending a bachelorette party, attending graduation the morning after the bachelorette party, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding two days prior to my departure. Amid all of this, I had to pack up all my belongings. Then, of course, there was leaving behind friends and family for whom I desperately care about.

The drive took 3 days, stopping in Denver the first night and St. George, Utah the next. Luckily my parents drove with me, switching between my car and their van, packed with everything from a bike to a mini fridge. I really don’t know what I would’ve done without my parents’ help and guidance. They truly are great people.

I tell you all of this not as a means of complaining, but to explain a condition that developed once I was on my own.

I live 4 miles from the beach in a cute house with 2 super girls. Even though I haven’t ridden my bike since I was 12, I brought it for convenience and efficiency. So my first full day alone, I decide to bike to the beach. That was a nice 8 mile bike ride. Needless to say I was exhausted and sore, but moreover, I had some great pain in my lower right back.

I typically have back problems so I assumed that it was aggravated by my bike ride.  Four days after my bike ride and my third day into work, the pain was more persistent and had moved more to my right side. At work I was asked to breakdown some footage for the Ferrari project. (*breakdown means just that: discerning usable footage from poor footage and categorizing it accordingly) I was nervous but rose to the challenge.

Shortly after I began, I started to feel dizzy and nauseous.  I told my editor I was going to relax for minute, which he encouraged. Then I started shivering, more light shaking, uncontrollably. I had assumed it was a panic attack brought on by my new task. My editor suggested I go home, but I knew our workload was excessive and we were short an editor. He was going to have to work into the night to catch up on our projects. I said I would just take it easy and resume when I felt a little better, which eventually I did.  The shaking stopped, I ate lunch, but still had persistent side pain, as if I drank too much water then ran.

By 4:30, I had done all that I could do for breaking down footage, and my editor told me to go home early. If I was sick, we didn’t want to infect him too, as it would put us unimaginably behind. So I went home and fell asleep for a couple of hours, feeling exhausted.

To be continued…

New Beginnings… September 1, 2008

So I’ve decided to blog. I’m not sure what it will be about, or whether I will keep it up to date or not. We shall see.