Fuck It I'm 50

Because I am sick. Good old fashioned, running a fever, raging soar throat, feeling sorry for myself sick.

Nevertheless today was a banner day. Huge movement ahead with the de Young iPhone app tour and was in a phone conference with the agent for the perfect Vera for Saltwater. The most sensible, straight shooting, tell it like it is person I have ever met in the industry. Simone made the hook up-love her, and it looks like it may be a fit, not only talent to screenplay fit, but an understanding business fit too. It’s a pinch myself kind of situation in both cases. Will reveal more on both of these shadowy areas of my life soon I hope.

But I want to leave you, me, us with a heartwarming tale before I slip back into sickland. I was driving just before 1pm to the last meeting of the day, I had the sense to cancel the meeting after and shoot tonight…I can not be sick now, more than ever before in my life, and all of a sudden a had a cop on a motorbike behind me. I actually gestured to him, “Me?” recognizing that he could not see this, and knowing those flashing lights were indeed, for me I pulled over. I rolled down my window, purposely leaving NPR on low, see I am a nice middle aged lady trying to get her news in her 11 year old used Volvo, what’s to punish? He came to the window and asked me if I had seen the stop sign a few blocks back that I just blew through. No, I had not, in fact I hadn’t seen him either, so I said, thankful that I had combed my hair and put some eyeliner and lipstick on, somehow knowing that I needed to play the sick do-gooder older lady card while I still plied my feminine wiles. Maybe he just heard my sincere answer which was, “I am so embarrassed, I didn’t even see the sign, where was it? I just started coming down with a cold and I am going to my last meeting of the day, I should have canceled this one too”. Or something like that. He asked for my driver’s license, insurance and registration. While I know where and what my driver’s license is, I am not quite sure where the other items are. I search back into my memory, and remember the instructions from the insurance company and the DMV, they tell you to put your card in your wallet and the DMV thing in the car. So I give him my ID and start to paw through the rest of my broken down wallet, it’s all feeling kind of broken down about now. And I fish out two insurance cards from my wallet, is she a dumb blond or an early Alzheimer’s victim? And then I open the embarrassing glove compartment filled with old audiotapes, too many California maps, poop bags—everything but the registration. Continuing my pathetic performance I ask him if the registration is the bigger piece of paper and explain that I had bought the car about six months early and I hadn’t been stopped in 15 years…he said that’s OK and took my stuff and went back to his bike.

The next eight or so minutes where kind of interesting. At first I glanced into the rearview mirror and started running the awful fat cop on a bike story to justify my frustration, and then I made myself look away. He is who he is and doing his job, and really, I fucked up. I thought for a second that he might be lying and framing me, and then I told myself to stop it. Even if her were, which I don’t really think he was, there was nothing I could do about it. So I forced myself to sit there, not get out my iPhone and call my meeting I was late and look like a pissed off ostentatious fuck, and be humble and accept what came. I only glanced up once and I saw him heading my way. I returned quickly to my humble and accepting posture.

He came to my window and he started to tell me that he was going to site me, but not for the moving violation. Huh? He went on to explain that half of my DMV sticker on my back plate was missing, the month part, and that he was giving me a citation for that. No ticket, just a fix it. I was slow on the uptake, Huh? He responded humorously, that he didn’t want to give someone who was sick a ticket, and that me, “young lady” should hurry up and get through this next meeting and to bed. Honestly I was flabbergasted. I told him that if I weren’t sick that I would hug him and thanked him laughingly for calling me young lady since he was holding my license in his hand and knew exactly how old I was.

I drove off vowing to drive more like an old lady, because usually I drive like a demon, and break many laws regularly. I also drove off believing on a combination of good acting, surrender and the kindness of others.

I pray for a runny nose and total functionality in the morning.

And that’s another thing I thought about today, this notion of prayer.