To be genuine, tears have been pouring down my cheeks since nightfall. I suspected it may be the rain or the cold or the full moon, yet it’s none of the above. It’s already Thursday, but the residue from the weekend is still crawling on my skin; it doesn’t hurt, but it itches.

The weekend was really quite standard, regardless of how absurd it may sound to others. A job, an audition, ten strip clubs, sleeping in, an estate sale, a nightclub, church, lunch, a peruse on PerezHilton.com, rain, a full moon, and now, two deaths- which, no is not standard, thank God.

First, I rushed home from a job to change and dart to a callback (meaning I auditioned for a film and they wanted a second look at me). I strode into the casting fully confident in tall boots, ripped jeans, a hint of lipstick, and blonde waves surrounding my face. I was almost brazen in my sarcastic teasing and my trust that the role was mine. After all, the men in charge deemed my read as “brilliant”. Last time I checked, much like the dirty “c” word, “brilliant” was not a standard throwaway adjective to describe a girl, unless one means it. So, the role was assuredly mine, right? Wrong. My phone rung around nightfall and the producer explained that I will be “kept in mind for future projects” but that I was simply too tall. Somewhat like being dumped by a person one thought they’d marry, is this specific rejection. When it looks so hopeful, one plans a whole wedding in their mind; I had done the same, only on film. Suddenly, I was ditched at the alter- for being too tall, mind you.

However, I had to instantly shake it off because, according to my calendar, that evening was dedicated to a group I’m a part of called “Treasures“. The purpose of us gals is too much for one blog but, in short, Treasures was started by a former stripper named Harmony and is comprised of former strippers, porn stars, prostitutes, and, um, me. One Friday each month we visit over ten strip clubs all over Los Angeles and beyond with gift bags in tow. We literally go to strip clubs, 3 girls at a time, and bring bags full of jewelry and makeup for the girls. It’s a support group for women in the sex industry and we make ourselves available for the girls to talk to or cry to or get out or whatever they may need. No matter how many times I’ve seen naked women, there’s nothing quite like watching one slither around a pole while guys treat her like a slab of pork. Obviously, I don’t judge either party, but it should be noted that about 80% of women in the sex industry have been raped or molested since childhood. That should put quite a different spin on the spin around the pole when one knows his toy is drown in meth or deceived into thinking this is how to reclaim her stolen sexuality. Unfortunately, this particular evening we went to a group of clubs owned by the same person, ironically a woman, who refused to let us in to any of her establishments. One defiant girl broke through the bouncers that served as her barrier to us. She yelled, “You don’t own me!” But, regardless, we had to leave…

Harmony, the founder of Treasures, taken for Glamour magazine

The next morning I slept in and rose only for an estate sale. I cruised the empty house with a sense of sorrow. Usually the homes are clearly those of the elderly and show signs of a complete life. This one seemed empty and the owner seemed younger, most likely having anticipated a lifetime of experiences ahead. I stacked two of his beautiful chairs into my car hoping that he knew to enjoy life while he had the chance.

By evening I was standing outside of a velvet-roped club with Marissa rambling our names on “the list” and awaiting the click of a bouncer opening the entrance. As per usual, the club held less patrons than the line outside and people surveyed fellow guests with apprehension. One may practically view the eyes like a book that reads, “AmIThatSkinny?AmIFat? IWannaHitThat. AreThoseMarcJacobs? OrKnockOffs? IsSheFamous? DoILookLikeSomeoneFamous? IWishIWasFamous.”… and so on. Please, do not misunderstand. I am teasing. I have not lost complete faith in the entire community of Los Angeles but, in the most transparent of ways, insecurity and idolatry permeate through the air like an apple pie cooking in Martha Steward’s kitchen. It’s simply obvious…

Me and Marissa

Marissa and I enjoyed the company of friends and by midnight I spotted an actor I met once before. I reintroduced myself and then, suddenly, a girl I just met moments prior was nudging me, interrupting us with somewhat embarrassing supposedly witty comments on his fame and fortune, and generally making me and him feel uncomfortable. To a humiliating and humbling degree, I saw pieces of a former me in her. She was excited, desperate, and unsure of this town and her future within it. It was easy to think for a moment, “Shut up and calm down! Just be calm and things will happen naturally! You’re beautiful, just ’shhhh!!” But, who I am to talk? That was I, to a tee, only several years ago, and it is only by blessing that my nervous thoughts remained within and not spilt on the floor for all to see.

When I woke up the next morning, the idea of fame and fortune among the seemingly ordinary people in this city and way the non-famous people react to it somewhat astounded me- the phenomenon of being a struggling actor one day and a household name the next. With the thought of my late Friday theatrical rejection, I recalled hearing that an acquaintance “movie star”- truly movie star- of mine actually was ballsy and masochistic enough to look at PerezHilton.com in the morbid interest of what people say about her. I caught the fever of her curiosity and clicked on the site. Needless to say, there was some heated, immature, brutal, hateful “discussion” on her beauty, talent, personal life, and so on. It nearly made me cry; ‘they have no idea who she is,’ I thought.

Right after I went to this new church I adore & the next day found that my cousin and Heath Ledger had died, both having something to do with drugs…

Heath

In the end, I was completely overwhelmed by emotion. I thought of the things the most desperate and absolutely loneliest of us do. I thought of the dark truths that glitz and glamour build as a wall to protect the unfortunate. I thought of the fickleness and psychotics of “fans.” I thought of how we medicate ourselves in career, in drinks, in designer clothes, in sex, in money no matter what we must do to acquire it, and I thought of how none of that means anything at all.

 Very rarely do I understand, but in the end I understood the Biblical characters that cried out for heaven on earth. If life must be so dark for some, I understand that now. I want and need so much more for them.

 Rest in peace those we lost this weekend. I pray they are in the best of all places.

Heath