I have a lovely friend who introduced me to her lovely roommate. This is nearly three years ago now but the fast-following friendship would perplex and sting now as though it was yesterday. There was no neon sign that read, “Pass go! Just collect the 200 dollars and run! This is gonna hurt otherwise!” I just laid all my cards on the table and expected normalcy. Not so.

It was practically love at first conversation. We adored the same things, fancied ourselves spiritually alike, and shared dreams considered outlandish. Before one could say “best friends” we were spending nearly every waking moment together, if not in person on the phone, if not on the phone via text messages. I was engaged and not yet living with Drew so after work I had plenty of time to just relax and be with friends. She was quickly the number one choice of company.

The first night I ever knew her (let’s name her “Emma” to make this easier) she divulged her best friend was a household name actress. I never asked to meet this celebrity friend of Emma’s but very early in our relationship she introduced us. (Let’s call the actress “Diana.”) Diana was incredibly sweet, on par in intelligence and wondrous stories as Emma, and really open to encouraging me on my own path. I felt exhilarated by these new friendships which seemed to grow and blossom each new day. Emma and I would meet Diana at fancy hotels or restaurants, play marco polo, assemble puzzles, and watch hours of Arrested Development. When Drew’s career led to actualizing beautiful projections for End Vacuum, a beautiful orchestral concert conducted by Michael Einziger of Incubus, Emma, Diana, and I went to support him unconditionally.

Above all, Emma and I valued our time and conversations together. We spoke of otherworldly things, shared books and knowledge, traded old stories, and genuinely allowed ourselves into each other’s lives. She wrote gorgeous music and Drew and I were front row at every show, even hauling her equipment onto the stage at times. The three of us had sleepovers and quiet nights; it was wonderful.

Soon another famous actress friend of Emma and Diana’s entered the scene. We’ll call her “Kathryn.” She claimed to have heard wonderful things about me and quickly, probably too quickly for me, led me arm in arm through a fancy restaurant after proclaiming her adoration. Her TV star boyfriend “Doug” joined us as well. When they all sat around the table it was difficult to ever get a word in. Often there were powerful agents and such in the mix and they all spoke about things of which I had nothing to add. Exotic travels, higher educations, gossip about actors they despise, and on and on. When Kathryn was around I usually deferred to quiet nods and smiles. Unless someone’s passed through New Jersey and lived off of cereal last Christmas, I got nothin’ to summate. Slowly, Emma and my time together felt compromised by the finer things in life and, although I fancy myself confident, one can only stomach so much sushi and designer talk before dying to climb into their single bed in their cream carpeted Valley apartment. Sometimes I was crawling out of my skin to get out from around this or that dinner table but I kept on coming. I don’t know why but maybe it was to hopefully not lose Emma. Little did I know, I would anyway.

One fateful evening Emma called from outside from my apartment. She was with a boy, “Eric,” she proclaimed to adore and wanted my opinion of him. I invited them up and my first, overwhelming impression was that God has spent more time handcrafting and perfecting this guy than most people. He was like an airbrushed movie poster and seemed kind to boot. (Side-note, my husband is a total, total babe; don’t get your panties in a bunch.) I gave her  two thumbs up on her pursuit of this man even though he was apparently soon leaving town.

Within the next few days Emma invited me to go bowling with her, Kathryn, Doug, and other acquaintances. I chauffeured us there and we spent the afternoon knocking pins. The girls quickly, even cliquishly made a team and I was the odd female out. Boys’ teammate I was. To everyone’s amazement, or to what supposedly became Kathryne’s grudge, every time Doug coached me in where to aim the ball I got a strike or spare. Every time! It was like magic. I laughed and enjoyed while spending the majority of my time chatting it up with a friend of Doug’s. However perhaps because this friend was a bit short and stout, my time spent in that direction was ignored while my innocent moments with Doug were magnified and misconstrued in Emma and Kathryne’s eyes. Kathryne would never treat me kindly again.

From here the tale gets sticky. There are faults of Emma’s not fair to mention unless I point out pieces of my private life that I don’t want floating around. Long story short, the ride from the bowling alley to a show at Hotel Cafe was a moody one. It got to the point that I asked Emma if she was growing sick of me or something. There is such a truth in “too much of a good thing.” But she denied anything was wrong. At Hotel Cafe we were met by Eric who chose seating beside me over seating beside her, standing room by me over standing room by her. I was married by now but because I had admitted before he was attractive, Emma burned daggers into my eyes and accused me of inviting the attention. To the contrary I was stealing trips to the bathroom and lengthening moments with my friend Tanya to save myself from the situation. I even told her to go dance with him but judging by her incensed reaction I was misunderstood under the music. Emma never invited me to any gatherings or one-on-one meals again. I was completely carved out of her life without so much as a proper falling out.

I don’t know if I was an accidental addition to a mass text but about a month later I was encouraged to attend her latest show. By this time she had gained loads of momentum and all her friends proclaimed she was the toast of the town. Drew and I went, as we always had before, only this time tons of people, from celebrities to church friends, showed. She flat out ignored us. We met eyes and she seemed to pretend we’d never met before. The show began before we could sneak out of our front row seats so I sat and cried tears of rage while Drew rubbed my back in comfort.

We had two more chances to make things right but even if the proper words were spoken I never felt the sincerity required of them on either end. I had organized a party for her at a point when I questioned her pain as a reason for the mistreatment of our friendship. However, the closer the date drew the more begrudgingly I baked the red velvets I was bringing to the soiree. Diana had taken it over and elevated it to a sleepover chock-full of activities. I longed to see if within the celebration of her we could make amends. But by the second day high in the hills, I couldn’t wait to return to my own reality. I felt like a fake up there. The two of us met for a going-away dinner later and I felt no less plastic than I had before. I covered my feelings in a layer of pink icing in hopes she couldn’t see the truth.

Emma and I are now parted by oceans and emotions. My current best friendships have taken years to found, were paved slowly and more cautiously, and seem built to last. Perhaps the faster the friends, the faster the strangers.

Cris Barros

Wendy Bevan

Having felt a connection to “God” since I can remember it became second nature to constantly question and discover who “He” is. I place God and He in between two, neat little quotation marks so that perhaps all of you may relate to what I’m feeling without constraining ourselves to specific words and details. After all, for the past few years I have been on a journey about spirituality that I never imagined I’d allow myself to go on.

When I was fourteen my family and I began attending a non-denominational Christian church that we loved. After walking through the same looming hallways with the same segregated faces since elementary school it was so refreshing to frequent a place where the cute boys actually talked to me, the adults weren’t always bossing me around, and the teenagers acknowledged I may have something valuable to say. I didn’t have to be the shy, quiet girl that people determined I was in high school (minus the drama department who knew my loud mouth well); I could have a fresh start. I never felt comfortable as the rebel so sitting within four walls where virginity and non-alcoholic drinks were all the rage, I felt safe and at home, no inner-struggle required.

However, the years between then and my uprooting to Los Angeles were peppered with judgmental people and situations where I was forced to play the longing-to-be-perfect people’s scapegoat. I stopped from beginning that sentence with an “unfortunately” because now I doubt there was anything remotely unfortunate about it. A virgin with no desire for alcohol I was suddenly painted as a frat party girl and was promptly kicked out of youth leadership. My new family became a united front of enemies and it left me wondering, “How come I feel so close to God? I must still be a good girl.”

Of course, it is overwhelming to attempt a post that abruptly covers eleven years but I’m trying. Let’s just say my time as a girl in her early twenties has brought out the party in me, the creativity, the alcohol, the sexuality, the ability to feel guiltless while bikini dancing in a pile of food, and a deepened understanding of God; yes, all at the same time. This is life, not a fairy tale and I’m beginning to think being a “good girl” has little to do with whether or not one can connect to Jesus or to the people around them in a nobel way. All I want to express is, try your best to follow your spirit. Make your very own, very personal connection to the larger, spiritual elements of life. Of course, go to a church if you want but without fear from mere men. There are plenty of well-meaning, beautiful people who are navigating their own lives and believe you must navigate yours the same.

So, from a girl who threw out all her secular CD’s in high school (Bob Marley, Radiohead) only to rebuy them years later, from a girl who became homeless because leadership told her she shouldn’t live with her brother and a boy who wasn’t her husband, from a girl who felt guilty everytime she merely kissed a boy: LISTEN TO YOUR OWN SPIRIT, not people who tell you what your spirit ought to think. Listen for God in beautiful melodies, know and respect your own sexual boundaries, and relax.

If you are following the truth you know in the purest parts of your heart, you are a good girl.

via Knighttcat

Isn’t is strange to witness something tragic or scary? Beyond the expected gathering of spectators at such an event one may notice some people horrified and other people smiling, as though exhilarated. I often feel somewhere in between. Sad to see something awful and yet somehow grateful for life and the extremely rare occasion to lend a needed hand.

This afternoon Drew and I went out for a walk before he had to work. We intended to grab a slice of pizza before Marissa picked me up for our newly frequent coffee shop writing sessions. He and I walked hand in hand talking until we noticed an older, teeny woman trying to push a shopping cart full of laundry up onto the curb before us. One of the enormous LA busses was impatiently turning right, likely assuming the woman was onto the sidewalk by then. Unfortunately the cart wouldn’t jump the cement aided only by her frail arms and the bus, in what seemed like an eternity of slow motion, crushed the woman into her own cart and smashed her to the ground. She had been more so toppled than hit.

Everyone around us yelled at the driver to stop while Drew and I flailed our arms doing the same, fearing a continued hit of the gas would find the woman under the back wheel (something none of us were prepared to see). The driver slowed for a moment and seemed to be considering a 3MPH hit and run escape plan. I ran to her door, pounded my hand against it, and found myself getting real Jersey on this chick. “Stop! You stop the f*&king bus or you’ll run her over!” She had the nerve to roll her eyes while putting the monster in park.

Feeling safer for the woman I scurried over to find her lying on the street in a small pile of cigarette butts, dirt, and food wrappers. Her hands were covered in blood and she seemed to not comprehend what happened. Perhaps I shouldn’t have underestimated the potential for a sweet old Mexican lady to have a seedy past but I couldn’t help stroking her forehead and arm, calming her while I dialed 911.

Drew went on a running search for a towel to press against her head wound but the nearby fire station sent out a truck and an ambulance in less than 5 minutes. I packed her glasses, which had flown about ten feet away, into her brown suede floral purse and stepped back into the growing crowd. I finally noticed a decent amount of blood was already crusting onto my skin so an EMT dumped about a fistful of antibacterial in my hands. “Keep the bottle,” he said.

Drew was hit by a car on his bike a while back and the man who did it reacted so similarly to the bus driver. Both of these people, naturally from different backgrounds, driving different vehicles, and living towns away both felt nothing but a sense of anger and inconvenience towards their accidental victims. I apologized to the bus driver for freaking out on her and she gave a snide, “Yeah.” I was like, “Yeah?! You sent a woman to the hospital, and if she’s anything like me, maybe without health insurance! You don’t even care?” However, the selfish bones in my body kept silent. After all, if this woman’s route cruises down Sunset, so do I, on a bike. I didn’t really want to reside on her bad side.

From there Drew and I left a statement with two officers, one who looked like Erik Estrada in his Chips attire, and we watched Esther being wheeled into the ambulance. The poor thing looked so scared. I surveyed the officers and fireman who had come to help and couldn’t help but think, “Wow. I really live in LA.” These buff, short haired boys are not my type but I laughed with Drew and called them Chip-n-Dale firefighters. They were all Ken-doll handsome; it was amazingly appropriate, like a modern Hollywood movie.

At the end of the day, I’m so grateful I live in a neighborhood full of caring people, albeit a bus driver here and there. And it was nice to be in the right place at the right time, with a cell phone.

I cyber-stalked and somehow coaxed Amanda of Little Mysteries to have coffee with me one day. I fell in love with her and her friend Maria’s brilliant little videos on Youtube and wanted to know how she makes it happen.

Long story short she steered me towards improv classes at IO West, which I am sososososo loving now, and we did a video yesterday with their director and my new friend Andy Deyoung. (AKA- Amanda and Andy did something hilarious in which I make itsy appearances.)  :)

For some reason I have been longing to see Shutter Island since it first previewed ten years ago, or however long “the man” has been making us wait. I’ve desired it so much so that I must have zombie walked to my Netflix account and put it in the queue immediately. I have no recollection of this but it’s in there. Anyway, it opens tomorrow and I plan to be middle section, popcorn to chomp, and husband’s hand to squeeze.

I’m sure Leo grabbed a quarter of our hearts circa Growing Pains and promptly scooped up the other 75% of us via Titanic. I’ve seen this hearthrob thrice. Once perusing the salad bar at Whole Foods, once at a weird after-party high in the hills, and once I obtained a mere, blissful moment of his attention at Beatrice in NYC.

Here’s that experience from deep in the archives of A Gold Noise. It’s no Bar caliber experience but close enough to bore the grandkids with.  :)

I want to make a habit of this being a story blog, not a picture blog. However, this is a shoot that my best friend Kim invited me to style alongside her, Emily, and Meredith. Kim and Emily created the wonderful Wildfox which is doing so well. I’m so proud to be a part of their creative process and no matter how sick I became running all over town I had a blast at every turn.

These are in order of my liking, not in order of the adorable story Kim created.  For the full story visit: I Love Wildfox!

“SHOT BY EMIR ERALP STYLED BY BRENDA KING, KIM GORDON, EMILY FAULSTICH AND MEREDITH LEYERZAPH MAKEUP BY CARLENE K / HAIR BY NINA LUCA”

In life friends come and go. I’ve had some I was enthralled with that turned out to be a shadow of what I perceived. Others seemed to mismatch me and instead have become confidants and cohorts. These are the women in my California life who I love dearly and I can see sticking around for a very, very long time.

Tanya was Jennika’s roommate and I fell quickly in love with her as well. She is a stunningly talented photographer who now resides in New York City to pursue her dreams. She is one of the rare human beings that one can ask any opinion of and get the truth, straight up. “Do these jeans make me look fat?”

“Yeah, wear something else.” That conversation never happened but if someone looked fat in those jeans, Tanya would let them know. If one lives in Philly, NY, or Jersey they may not understand the gem of a fact this is. Los Angelians tend to say shining, pretty things to faces and unfriendly, mean things to backs.

Beyond that, Tanya is a place where secrets are always safe and guards can be let down.

Marissa is the sweetest, most complimentary person I know. If a girl is down on herself all she needs to do is put out an S.O.S. to Maris. She makes me feel like the prettiest, nicest princess the world has ever seen- but she probably says that to all the girls. After all, we all adore her.

Not to mention, her thoughts are always towards others. She has granted me so many opportunities as an actress just because she has always been my cheerleader. She’s awesome.

I first spent time with Elie when she styled me alongside Marissa for Ace Norton’s Simian Mobile Disco video. It was a disgusting, albeit really fun, experience but I found Elie completely intimidating. She is gorgeous, impeccably stylish, and seems nothing but utterly confident.

However, over a year later Elie and I bonded hardcore in Mexico over our shared past of high school humiliations. We both ended up with attractive boys who never had an awkward day in their lives which is hard for us to even imagine. We traded details of our embarrassing former elements, ranging from braces to excess poundage. We competing over who took the longest to finally win a kiss from a boy. Billy and Drew listening intently, probably secretly bored, but I fell in love.

I’ll next see Elie in her new hometown of Chicago where she’ll be styling me once again.

Amy Lou I met at my former church. She was rocking out on the drums, her expertise, with her wild curls flying everywhere. Little did I know I would end up living with her shortly after. We shared a single bedroom and rarely ever fought which in girl world is nothing short of a miracle.

Amy is affectionate, unique, determined, and strong. She was there to walk me through some of my greatest victories and most heart wrenching experiences.

In life friends come and go. I’ve had some I was enthralled with that turned out to be a shadow of what I perceived. Others seemed to mismatch me and instead have become confidants and cohorts. These are the women in my California life who I love dearly and I can see sticking around for a very, very long time.

This is Kim, the best friend I’ve ever had in my adult life. We became aware of each other’s existence on Myspace 5 years ago. I discovered her and wrote a letter essentially hitting on her in a heterosexual way. Her style and the spirit of her internet self seemed on par with mine; I was enthralled by her outfits and the evidence of all the fun adventures she seemed to live. We met up at Cinespace which, at the time, was the hottest thing since sliced bread- the origination of The Cobrasnake and Steve Aoki. It took a year to develop a consistent relationship but I finally found myself wanting to be a part of whatever she was doing. Now my life wouldn’t be the same without her. Her generosity has given me a career, her heart has given me an ear I can always trust, and her spirit carries everyone she knows on wild exploits. Nothing has been more amazing than going into a friendship with no expectation and getting a world in return.

I was introduced to Meredith as “Big Hair Mere” which is how she still resides in my phone. Our mutual friend squinted her eyes and said, “You know, I think you guys are going to love each other. You’re like the same.” And it was true.

Mere is sweetly sincere, unapologetically giving and kind, and a person one can be totally themselves around without judgement. We’ve both been very attracted to crazy girls in the past so I find solice in the calm she brings. One of my favorite things is sharing her futon, wrapping in a blanket, and watching a movie at her place. Added bonus: she’s hilarious.

Kelsey is the one on the right who is not Gemma Ward. I feel like this picture sums Kels up in the way that she is constantly in these otherworldly situations with unique people and yet totally at ease. She is my most mothering friend in every way. She cooks like a world-renowned chef in large quantities to accommodate any unexpected guests, she keeps impeccably tidy without making anyone uneasy, and would defend a friend’s honor to the death- like all the best of mommies.

She keeps this beautiful home really close to mine and I spent all summer eating incredible meals with oodles of the interesting company she keeps. She lights candles and bestows everyone with blankets and full drinks as soon as the sun sets.

On the other hand, she can party- in a good way- like nobody’s business. It’s so rare to meet someone who can be so happy at home and so boisterous out and about. Love her.

Jennika was one of the first best friends I ever made in LA. My friend Kenny picked her up for me six or seven years ago at Star Shoes. He can easily talk to any foxy female and before I knew it he was laughing it up with this babe. Long story short she asked if we’d both venture past Ventura to Brooks so she could shoot us for a class project. It was a spec shoot for Puma and I fell in love with her that day.

We became inseparable. Never before or again have a met a person who could become so renown so easily. Name the club and the bouncers gave her VIP, walk down Melrose and find slews of people who know and adore her, and I dare you to find a guy who wasn’t enthralled with her at one point or another. Jennika was truly always where the party’s at.

She grew up in Monterey, Mexico and now lives there again with her husband Raul working as a photographer. Her wedding in Playa Del Carmen was a full blown event more vivacious than any club I’ve ever visited. I want to travel everywhere with her.

Cecile Bortoletti

Drew, being the night owl he is, woke me at 4AM last night. He told me about how he’d parked his car really far away (thank you, LA street cleaning) and noticed cops, some undercover, interrogating some of the wannabe gangsters in our neighborhood. There is a slew of wonderful people in our area peppered by young, stupid guys who not only tag everything but occasionally trade bullets. (A whole other story for a whole other day.) Anyway, as he described the scene we peered out of our window and noticed two guys running across the street wearing black from head to toe. I thought to myself, “Well, it’s 4AM. There are the bad guys.”

I slept soundly and this morning I considered the fact that there really is nothing as black and white when it comes to “good and bad” in people. What is a bad guy? Someone who’s so insecure or lacking family that he joins a gang to feel acceptance? An adulterer? A murderer? A thieve? A guy who wears black and runs across the street late at night?

There are many men in my life in all sorts of capacities: employers, agents, directors, relatives, friends, my husband. The more intimately I know almost any of them, the more apparent the “bad” things they’ve done become. There may be an angel here and there but for the most part there could be a handful of fallen victims that would forever consider some of them bad guys.

There is one boy I’ve known since we were children. When we reached adolescence I found him to be a loyal friend, hilarious encourager, and genuinely good person. By 25 he’d snipered a myriad of people in Afghanistan.

I know a man who has stolen from his family countless times to support a drug habit. He also happens to have the sweetest and most broken-down spirit I’ve ever known. An eternally precious little boy making bad choices in a man’s body.

I’m acquainted with perfectly sincere and kind people who have made wretched mistakes in the name of confusion, jealousy, insecurity, substances, or plain stupidity. I was profoundly hurt by one of these men and I had to contemplate, why can’t bad guys just be the villains and good guys just be good? Why won’t bad men slink around Sunset Boulevard all hours of the night wearing black so we know who they are? Unfortunately they can’t because there’s no such thing as a “bad guy.” One knows it when the best of guys does the worst of things or a bad man redeems himself.

All I can say is that I wish you the best in navigating the people life will bring. Never stand long for someone who always does the wrong thing but never write a man off too quickly for making a mistake. After all, one day you may find yourself to be the bad guy.

Jacob Sutton

I used to be quite a confident flirt back in the single days. Move an inch closer, find an excuse to touch his hair (”There’s a fuzzy in it.”), find an interesting topic that says, “I’m a chick who can hang with the guys”. However, as soon as I began to feel strongly about Drew these bits went by the wayside. Suddenly every bar or show was a time to revel about what I’d found, not what I might find. Every long term couple knows that each person will be attracted to others but it becomes almost a joke. We’ll check out girls together and tease each other when someone hits on one of us. We are off the market after all.

Four years of relationship and a marriage under my belt, Kim and I strode into the long line at my favorite coffee shop. Right away I noticed we stood behind an actor most girls can ripen a crush on: initials JG. We acknowleged the fun fact with a giggle and proceeded to talk about the models she’d cast for the shoot and all we had on our agenda that day. Then all of a sudden to our surprise JG spun around, “Will you save my spot for one second?”

I couldn’t help but pull out a tried and true, overused Brenda maneuver: “No, I’m sorry. We just can’t.” His smile widened and he ran away. Moments later he returned and pleaded for his spot. I could’ve swore against all my better judgement that this guy was into me. We ignored each other for a while but I couldn’t help but notice an ongoing outpour of support and compliments coming his way. Women approached and said everything from, “I loved your sister in such-and-such, will you tell her that?” to “I have a friend that knows your friend. Will you tell him Becky says hello?” Polite to the bitter end, he made promises left and right to fulfill these stranger’s requests. I smiled to myself but could no longer bite my tongue when the barista praised his totally normal, every-guy-has-one flannel. “That shirt is really sweet, man.”

As soon as he turned away I let out a laugh and looked at JG, “Everyone is just full of compliments for you today, huh?”

He smiled, “Yeah, it seems so. Everyone but you.” He placed one hand on the countertop and the other on his hip. I thought for a moment, he gets to be so confident. He probably rarely fails at anything. I straightened my posture in hopes of mirroring his own fearlessness. “Maybe they just talk trash behind my back,” he continued, “Unlike you who just says it straight to my face!” We laughed and his coffee was up.

“It’s too cliche to compliment movie stars,” I said. Before you roll your eyes, I know I know that is the stupidest, most cliche thing to say. I know.

He smiled, “See you” and turned to dress his drink. I looked at Kim and her mouth gaped. We left without looking back.

When I finally saw Drew at the end of that unyielding day I could count on him to be just the way I hoped he’d be. After I recounted my little tale word for word his eyes squinted with confusion and he simply said, “Well, he sounds like a big creep.” Which is right in the ballpark of what I’d say the day Megan Fox or somebody hits on him.