Last night was a hard night. You know when that happens you try to fight it off but sometimes it’s best to just recognize it, work through it, and then move on.
It started off with a good day- I had a great workout at the gym, I did what I thought was a good full re-write of my latest script, and then I went to work. But at work I realized…the ending of my script was just not good enough. Not good enough for me, not good enough probably to get into a decent film festival, and not good enough to get sold. I needed to re-think the script, and even as daunting as I knew it would be, I was determined to work it out.
The problem was, I was in a shitty mood. I was about to start my period, (which is always a pretty tense time in my household), and my father’s birthday is today. My relationship with my father has always been a drag (we won’t go into the gory details here), and although I wasn’t thinking about him, I think subconsciously knowing that today is his birthday was bringing me down, mixed with the PMS and my crappy feelings about my script ending.
So after work, I was driving home and I drove by one of my favorite old Mexican quick stops- Benito’s. I kept driving, but in my head I kept thinking about how much I loved to eat their bean and cheese burritos with sour cream—how warm and soft their tortillas and beans were and how gooey and delicious the cheese and sour cream together tasted. After passing Benito’s for about four blocks, I made a U-turn and headed back. The diligent vegan inside me was being silenced: I could not listen to her tonight or else I might explode. Guilt-free and hungry, I went into Benito’s and ordered my favorite burrito. The order-taker (and cook) was kind enough to get it started before I even paid just in case I decided to change my mind and run. Even the half-homeless looking guy smiled at me, as if to say that the universe approved. This was one of those nights that I had to let go, even for a second, and let myself off the hook.
I got into my car and was about to eat the burrito right then and there when I looked over to my left and saw some guy leaned back in the driver’s seat of his car, listening to music. So not to be distracted by my soon-to-be orgasmic cheat, I started the car and drove a few blocks down into a residential area and pulled over in a red section. I left the car running but turned off the lights (I knew it wouldn’t take long for me to devour my burrito), and then I quickly unwrapped the burrito from it’s tin foil wrap as if I were undressing a Calvin Klein model and then took my first bite of the forbidden food. It had been at least nine months since I had a bean and cheese burrito- (and nine months since I tasted real cheese or sour cream), something I used to eat at least once a week, if not more. I was in heaven from the first bite. The burrito was warm and tender just as I had remembered, and that made-with-lard tortilla reminded me of all those boozed-up nights that would end in a Del Taco run. It’s funny how certain foods just stir up warmth for people, hence the term, “comfort food.” For me, it’s a burrito. A simple, bean and cheese burrito with sour cream. And preferably one from Benito’s.
The night didn’t stop there. I went home, cried a bit out of self-pity, (not for eating the burrito, but for the collective things I was feeling), and then kissed my man goodbye and walked to a local bar for a drink. This time I was going to cheat again- not with wine or beer which I had done before here and there, but with vodka- something I swore I would stay away from. (Vodka just makes me want more—more vodka, and gasp!, cigarettes). I ended up having two short martinis that quickly gave me a buzz but didn’t make me drunk. I sat there alone, watching other people and then finally tuning them out to focus on my script. I came up with several ideas that turned into dead ends, and finally after hearing the bartender talk about her failed acting career, I decided to call it a night.
When I got home, my loyal man was waiting for me patiently, knowing that some nights, I just need to do those kinds of things. He knows the dark side I have, and he’s also acutely aware of staying away from me a bit when it’s that time of the month. (He keeps forgetting to download that phone app that will remind him when my period is coming.) He also knows my relationship with my father and he knows that even though I’m a strong, independent woman, things like his birthday can set me off into a mild depression.
Still not satisfied with my night, I went into the bedroom and continued to think. I don’t know how it came about or how it happened, but somehow I started to figure out the ending of my script. When it happened I was relieved because I knew it would be o.k. I wouldn’t figure out the perfect conclusion in its entirety that second, but I was close- closer than I had ever been. It made my night turn around almost instantly, and I was back to being chipper, hyper, excitable Grace. Thank god. I hate going to bed in a funk.
I leaped into the arms of my man and started goofing around. Poor guy. He sometimes has to deal with the mood swings of a premenstrual woman, one who also happens to act like a crackhead sometimes. I couldn’t stop chatting away to him when an hour ago I could barely speak, and because he loves me and is patient, he went along for the ride. By one-thirty in the morning, we were still up and decided to watch “Due Date,” which I liked for some parts, but then eventually fell asleep. This morning I woke up with a renewed feeling that I could figure out my script, and I took for granted how easy it is to have someone there who understands your schizophrenic behavior. But that’s not entirely true—I never take him for granted. I looked at him in all his gorgeous sleepy-eyed wonder, jumped back into bed with him, even for two minutes, and kissed the soft part of his nose. He’s the reason I can go into the dark places at night and be o.k., because I know when I come out, he’s the light that will guide me back to home.
Now let’s just hope I can stay away from Benito’s.
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If you’ve been keeping up with my blog you know that today is my last post for awhile so I can focus on directing my first feature film. Today also marks the day one year ago from today that I wrote my first blog post. I’ve changed a lot since then so it’s nice to have recorded all the things that have occurred and some of the thoughts that I’ve had over the past year. The biggest change is about to come and it excites me to no end: in addition to being an actress/writer/producer, I’ll also be adding “director” to the hyphenate. Let’s hope I don’t screw it up.
