I have no idea how to start this.
I suppose it suffices to say, "I'm happy."
365 days ago, I pulled in to the Burbank Airport Marriott after a cross-country road trip from New York City. (We took a Northern route, through NJ, PA, OH, MI, IL, IN, IO, NE, WY, UT, NV to CA.) Flanked by two close friends, Nick and Chris, I unloaded the necessary luggage from my newly purchased, previously owned Honda Civic - our stomachs heavy with the obligatory In-And-Out Burger arrival meal.
I had literally no idea what was in store. I had been, up until the 8 days prior, an iCal-obsessed, forward-thinking protocol-executor. New York had perfected forethought in my regiment, a necessity for my survival in the city. There I was, for the first time in, perhaps, my life; without any real plan. It may have been the biggest risk I've ever taken.
I had a trunk full of audition clothes and photography equipment, and two meetings - one with a Tisch in LA mentor program and the other with someone at the West Coast division of my NY agency, named Jennifer. I had no concept of how important either of those would be.
I'd never been to Los Angeles before, and it wasn't nearly as sunny as I had been promised. The photography journey between the two coasts had been far more beautiful. (I submit that the superior portrait of our country remains outside and between both LA and NYC.) I had only a vague understanding that the industry in which I so desired to work was predominantly located there and, retro-speculatively speaking, it was time for change.
Sometimes, in life, when you start operating from a sense of "knowing" instead of "thinking" you move forward, faster. I'd spent plenty of time contemplating in Bushwick, Brooklyn - now it was time to do the doing. It really is all about "doing the doing."
And "being here now."
California has given me my sense of self, in space.
It's given me sunlight by which to awake.
Air, though smoggy, to breathe.
Most of all, I needed the time - an environment who's heartbeat matched my own.
Having a couch didn't hurt either, for the first time in seven years I had a place in my home to relax aside from my computer desk chair or my bed.
Califonia has allowed me to relax.
Relaxation, is a big part of acting.
Being an actor.
I'm a better actor since I've moved here - I've learned to do the work and let go of it.
That's what Vicki, my teacher at Meisner, taught us to do.
New York is the work, Los Angeles is the letting it go.
Keeping both alive has helped me find balance and in turn, happiness.
I've met a lot of fantastic, pleasant, caring people here.
I'm learning that happiness is not exclusive. Happiness isn't a property, it isn't something anyone can take from you. Give it to others, and you'll find it yourself. It starts with you. It's an inside job.
I am so thankful for my friends and my family; my parents especially. They inspire me to do good. To be good. The people from whom I have learned to be happy are good people. The world embraces kindness, gentility and patience. The acting work is about the scene partner, it's about the other. Wish well for them and find it in return.
California, I expected you to be a lot of things.
I was afraid that you would be many others.
You turned out to be just what I needed. Thank you.
