OK...So WHAT NOW???

OK, I know that some of you have been wondering what I've been up to
since the death of my mother and I've been keeping things hush
hush.  One of the reasons why I kept things under wraps was
because I wasn't sure which direction to take after her death.  I
knew it was a given that I'd have a clean slate to pursue the acting
route, but I had no specific direction.  Was I going to take a
normal 9to5er and act on the side, pursue acting full time at some
point with not working to eliminate distractions, or return to school
to further my acting/writing and other artistic outlet.  

When my mother was sick, I was taking a curriculum called the "Dream
Maker" by Wilkinson.  I took a LOT of different personality,
aptitude, and even spiritual gifts assessments.  One of my
conclusions was to find something that would enable me to pursue an
accredited masters, AND to combine BOTH my artistic pursuit as well as
my spiritual commitment (or lack of)  You see to be honest, I made
a promise that if I were allowed to pursue acting, I'd commit a
significant amount back to God.  Which I didn't.  So I
applied to Fuller for their Theology and Arts program.  

I put this to the backburner because I was certain that I wasn't going to be accepted due to the fact that:
1) I did not qualify for all the academic requirements for acceptance.  I knew that when I was applying.  
2) My art "sample" that was submitted included one of my plays which included a LOT of cusswords.
3) I completely forgot that I applied after being casted in the lead for So Beauty, and after my mother passed.  
4) In the spiritual autobiography, I admitted that I had a "love/hate"
relationship with God, and that people would NEVER guess that I'm a
Christian.  (hey, some of you reading this, did YOU know that I
was?)

But recently, when I learned that I was being passed over for the
permanent position of recruiting coordinator at Bank of America after
working there for 10 months already, I had no idea what was going to
happen, especially after my sister and I decided to sell our
house.  Then today, I learned that I was a finalist candidate for
another 3 mos assignment as a recruiting coordinator for Schwab and my
interview is this Monday, and then I later received a job posting for
recruiting coordinator for Industrial Lights and Magic.  I had no
idea what to do especially since my sister gave me marching orders to
vacate the house to prepare for market.  Oh, and did I mentioned
that So Beauty was submitted into the Sundance Film Festival yesterday?
(doesn't mean we'll get in, but we're officially entered)

Today there was a letter waiting for me from Fuller.  

I got in.  

Now you'd think I'd be ecstatic about it.  I'm flattered and
happy.  But there was also an "oh shit, what the fuck am I gonna
do now?"  type of reaction too.  

Long story short: I NEED PRAYER!!!  Even some of you reading this
don't have similar beliefs.  Well, I don't care.  I need
prayer.
1) Fuller aint cheap.
2) I need to figure out my living accomodations as my house goes on the market.
3) I'm doing the right thing.
4) God and I always had a sort of "love/hate" relationship going still.  I know I'm not the model student there.
5) I'm not letting go of my normal acting/writing career.  It may
not be much, but I worked too damn hard over the past years to get what
I have.  

So there.  That's my life in a nutshell.  Lot's of crossroad
types of decisions to be made.  One request I have besides the
prayer part:  PLEASE...DO NOT offer any sort of
feedback/advice/opinions/ect.  That's where the prayer comes in.
 

I have a lot to pray and contemplate about...

AFTER the Raiders game this Sunday! 

The Jekyl and Hyde of Friendship and Family

It seemed as if I gotten what I needed.  When I came to Venture the evening of my mother's death on June 19, I plopped in front of the prayer station and grieved, and two of my Venture friends came to my aid.  Since publishing my mother's memoriam, I've been bombarded with verbal support. 

"If you need anything, I'll be here..."

Unfortunately, it was only VERBAL support.  When it came time, they "had no time."  Lately, I've had more "breaking points" than ever.  That's expected.  When you bury your own mother days before a three-day weekend, you're in no mode to really enjoy that three day weekend.  And your so-called friends who'd "BE THERE" are so focused on their entitlement to enjoy their three day weekend, they avoid you as if grief is contageous. 

But family isn't exempt.

According to tradition, it is expected that members of the immediate family return to the site of the grave three days after a burial.  That was Saturday.  None of my family members bother to take initiative to do so.  Only later that Saturday evening, my mom's sister complained that there were "no flowers" on my mother's site.  I agreed to visit the next day.  I was also commanded to keep Monday open as we were to clean the house and send out "thank you" cards.  So I cancelled all plans for Monday to "be with family."  So come Monday, it seems that family "had July 4th plans," and I was left alone in the end. 

Then there's the church family.

I've come to the conclusion that no matter how determined, sincere, and well-intentioned Christians are, they end up more controlled by a hell versus a heaven.  It's hard to believe that the same folks there for me the day my mother died would be the same people who pulled an ultimate betrayal.  You see, after trekking to Livermore, I trekked back home to Oakland in order to visit mom and dad.  It was a little overwhelming to say the least.  So before I trekked back to church later that evening, I coped with a couple of shots of Courvousier.  I felt much better.  I'm glad to have done so because the way things were that nite at service, if I didn't have a drink, I'd leave church looking for the first train towards hell.  Upon learning of my state of being, my so-called friend, who supposedly "loves me as a brother," first began to accuse me of "being selfish," and then, "NOT giving up everything to God."  Now from a Christian standpoint, that is the most ultimate insult and accusation, and after everything I've gone through these past two weeks, I can't believe how insensitive this back-stabber was. 

So Happy July 4th.  We celebrate the freedom.  Freedom to back stab a friend in grief.  Freedom to knock family.  Freedom to grieve.  Freedom to say "fuck you all" to everyone including God.  And most importantly...freedom to drink a bottle of Courvousier.

In Memory Of...

This past three months has been one of the most difficult periods of my life.  I have witnessed one of the strongest persons in my life slowly lose her physical strength and abilities gradually.  Her inner strength however, had grown tremendously during that time.

Back in October, I was working on Ghost in the Machine, and was getting ready to make a move to L.A. shortly afterwards until I learned that my mother had melanoma.  I decided to live back in Oakland until she recovered from her pending November surgery.  I had looked online on what melanoma was, and the potential severity of it, and was expecting my mother to make a full recovery. 

When her surgery was completed in November, I decided to settle in Oakland for a longer term and accepted a short-term job assignment at Bank of America in the capacity of a staffing recruiting coordinator.  I had also withdrawn my submission Study Buddy from showcase consideration for the Asian American Theater Company NewWorks and declined further participation from that program.  I had put on hold my film Babbling On(line) although I had entered it in several film fests already, and had gone into an auditioning hiatus between the months of December through April. 

In March of this year, my mother had a follow up to her surgery only to learn that not only the tumors returned, but her cancer had spread throughout her body.  A number of you have heard and/or overheard my yearning of taking a break, and I eventually spent a week in seclusion in Kauai at the end of April.  Upon returning home, I learned that my mother had been moved to Alta Bates hospital(both in Berkeley and Oakland) where she spent her Mother's and Memorial Day. 

Finally on June 2nd, she returned to where she belonged-home.  My mother's youngest sister and I had become her caretaker upon her returning home which required a sacrifice of sleep and a very limited social life.  I made up my sleeploss by occasionally getting to work early and napping as well as taking naps during my lunch breaks.  By the time my mother fell and cracked her ribs on the 6th, it was given that my aunt and I were unable to give her the proper care and we eventually hired a nurse. 

On June 14th what would've been my parents 47th wedding anniversary (my father passed on 9 years ago) our family placed my mother to hospice care.  At that point, my mother was drifting in and out of consciousness, so when she regained consciousness, I spoke with her one final plea: to make peace with God and to accept Him.  She closed her eyes for a brief moment, looked up, and told me "yes," and nodded at me.  That would be the last conversation I would have with her.  From that point, my family had kept a vigil over her. 

Back in May, I had auditioned for and accepted a role in an independent film, So Beauty.  We began the rehearsal process during the latter half of May and early June and was scheduled to began filming in the middle of June.    Our first scheduled day of shooting was June 18th, but since I was attending a wedding, my first scheduled shoot date was on the 19th.  Since the wedding banquet and the film shoot were both in the San Jose southbay area, I remained there for the weekend.  On Father's Day morning at 8:22am, my phone rang and I saw that my caller i.d. showed that it was my sister calling.  She indicated to me that approximately 4am, my mother had breathed her final breath.  I was instructed to continue my original plan of attending the film shoot, and was able to complete the shoots in 2 out of the 3 scheduled locations.  Eventually, during the final scenes in the second location, I began to unravel, and requested to be excused from the set.  So finally after nearly twelve hours after learning about my mother's death, I FINALLY began my grieving process.

We will be holding a wake and funeral service for her at Albert Brown Mortuary located on 3476 Piedmont Avenue, Oakland, CA.  The wake will be held on Monday June 27th at 7pm, and the funeral Tuesday June 28th at 1pm. 

In lieu of flowers, donations can be sent to the UCSF Melanoma Cancer Center c/o Dr. M Kashani-Sabet, 1600 Divisidero Street, San Francisco, CA 94115.  Please indicate "In Memory of Shirley Chin" 

Shirley D. Chin
Feb 21, 1936-Jun 19, 2005

48 Hours

Is a name of a newsshow and a title of one of Eddie Murphy's earlier films.  It is also two twenty-four hour periods which equals two days.  Within the last 48 hours, I've witness one of my best high-school days friend say her "I do," got to reunite with another high school friend after a ten year absence, began the first day of my first leading film roles and...

My mother breathed her last breath.

I'll discuss more on my mother's life in a later entry, but the wedding I went to yesterday was an unforgetable event.  I've been buddy-buddy with my friend since I was worried about her standing on the corner by herself in East Oakland after we took the SATs.  From that day on, my parents watched her grow up as well as her parents watched me grow up.  We were probably the original "Afro-Asians" before it became hip for Asians to refer to each other w/the "n"-word as we attended the early rap/hip-hop concerts back in da day.  There'd be less than 20 of us Asians attending those events amongst thousands of concert-goers.  She brought a countless amount of suitors by me for my personal approval while she met and tolerated my "sweeties" over the years.  Eventually we lost touch over the years, and became focused on other endeavors.  Nevertheless, earlier this year, I received an email out of the blue from her.  She provided contact information, and I called at the earliest opportunity.  She's the kind of friend such that you could be out of each other's lives for periods of years and be able to pick up from where you left off, so we did.  I didn't know much about her new husband except for the fact that he treats her well, which is a pretty important thing.   I'm watching their slide show, and seeing their joy in their photos.  Her family was gracious at my presence to their event, and I too felt privileged not only as their guest, but as an extended member of their family. 

As I awoke the next morning to prepare for the 9:30 call time on location, my phone rang.  I saw on my caller id that it was my sister, and I KNEW what the call meant.  I answered the phone to receive the inevitable news.  At approximately 4am, June 19th 2005, my mother had departed this earthly world.  I was instructed to go about my original plans as my mother would've not only wanted me to, but EXPECTED me to.  So I arrived on the set ready to deliver my performance.  Eventually, my performance and myself gradually began to unravel, and I started to forget my lines.  I apologized to the director and the rest of the cast and crew for my sporadic performance.  I left to my homechurch to grieve. 

Now that this 48 hour period has ended, I'm ready for the next 48 to be hopefully restful as we all need it.

Like the saying goes, "there's no such thing as an athiest in a foxhole."  A couple of weeks ago when my mother was up and around in the hospital, she openly questioned and doubted the existence of God.  It was understandable as the chemo wasn't working for her and she was constantly in pain as she struggled to breathe. 

When we switched to hospice care yesterday, I took the next moment that she became conscious to discuss her doubts.  One of her biggest justification about whether or not God existed was that there seem to be more problems than solutions in this world, and where was He in all of this.  So in an attempt to address that, I wanted to tell her she was a solution from God.  That for my sister and my father, and myself, she was a major solutions to all the ills of the world.  She was a sanctuary for us.  But when it came down for me to say anything, the only thing that came out from me was a plea, "please Mom, make peace and accept God." 

And she did. 

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then looked up, made eye contact with me, nodded and forced out a weak, "yes."  My actor side of me was disappointed for not saying what I was prepared to say.  I had rehearsed that argument for weeks, but "please Mom..." was all that was needed.  Maybe it was the frailty of my own voice that prompted her.  I don't know.  I mean who am I to talk about making peace w/God or not when my own personal life is in constant turmoil.  You see, my mother is the type who knew that I'd struggle for the rest of my life holding onto hope if she had said, "no," so she said "yes" in order to pass on hope for me to continue on once she passes in this physical world.  Even now in her hospice bed, with several broken ribs, deteriorating organs, and the continuously swelling leg, on a diet of morphine, she's doing what she does best:  taking care of us. 

I don't do a lot of "well today I did this, and so and so called me, and I went here..." entries.  I normally put down what exactly is on my mind as openly and as honestly as possible.  "THEY" always say that to avoid conflict, you must never bring up religion, politics or sex, and I know I've touched upon those topics often.  So if I have ever offended anyone, well please read my introduction/release from emotional liability disclosure. 

I've been reading a lot of books lately which are spiritually based.  I'm a pretty simple and predictable person.  Chances are once you get to know me, you could easily guess what sort of books I'd read.  I'm either reading books on acting, plays and/or screenplays, a best-seller fiction, my own Bible, maybe a martial arts magazine, but that's mostly it.  Now thanks to our "friends" at Amazon, I can actually plug in a book by letting everyone in here know what I'm reading. 

So this week, I was reading what is considered to be "Christian" or "inspirational" reading materials.  They're just books.  They don't need to be categorized.  I read one of them because a mentor, friend, and pastor had written it.  The second one grabbed my attention merely at the title of it: Messy.  I'm definitely not perfect.  Nada, not me, none.  I'm a total mess.  Always have been, always will be.  But am I considered "spiritual?" Truthfully, in that realm of reality, I don't really care what or how others feel about me in that regards.  Also, everyone has their own personal definition of "spiritual." 

I'm not talking about how many candles and incense are lit by you, nor am I talking about how often you attend your local church.  It doesn't matter how often and frequent you read your Scripture, and by that, I'm including Sanscrit, different versions of the Bible, the Quran, Talmud, Torah, ect.  It doesn't matter how many church sponsored events you attend, nor does it matter how often and how long you spend in prayer to your respected spiritual entity.  It doesn't matter who you vote for even when your religious affiliation guides you to vote that way.

Spirituality is relational.  It's not religion.  It's not routine.  Spirituality does have an element of worship, but even the worship is relationally based.  There exists more religious people out there than spiritual people. 

My old church is a church in every sense of the word.  They practice their religion.  They helped me developed a spiritual as well as a religious foundation, more religious than spiritual.  It was what I needed at the time I was with them.  There's always gonna be a place for them, and they do fill a need out there.  I left this organization several years back when I felt that their structure was more of a hindrance to my spirtual health than helpful.  When I came to visit recently, I was reminded of how much of the condemnation they're known to express when my dying mother was insulted by one of their senior members.

But I will not take it personally though it's an insult to my entire family.  This person meant well, but it doesn't cancel the hurt or insult.  I am very upset about it, and will expect an apology.  I know I won't get it.  They mean well, and they said because they felt that's what they're supposed to say.  They're religious folks.  They tend to worship the tools of spirituality rather than the being.  Case in point, several years before I left that group, the same person who insulted my mother was adament that every struggle one was going through could be instantly resolved if they attended a specific church rally for men.  Any struggles that someone was going through was linked to whether or not they attended the event.  (I'm referring to male members of that church)  If they attended, their struggle would be overcome if they just applied what was discussed at the event, and if they didn't attend, well their struggle came about because they were not committed to their spiritual well being as indicated by their absence. 

Even though I'm often judged by them, I will not judge them.  Religion is religion.  Spirituality is relational.  Religious folks tend to substitute rules, religion, ritual in place of relationship.  Spiritual folks tend to focus on the relationship, bad and good with their Creator.  People of religion cannot tolerate any sort of messes, and if a mess exists, will tend to cover it up.  Spiritual people will acknowlege the mess around them, the mess that they are, and openly addresses the mess.  Having said that, I do not mean that "messy" people are spiritual or more spiritual than religious folks, nor am I saying that I'm more or less spiritual than people at my old church. 

All I'm really saying is that I'm a mess, my life's a mess, but I choose not to cover it, because I'm not religious.

Pooh Bear Visits the Ghetto-a flashback

It seems that 911 is a distant memory, but the incident is a little less than four years ago.  Around that time, I was working for an entertainment company who hired out people like myself to entertain people during parties.  In other words, one of my past job was to be Mickey Mouse, Teletubbies, Clifford the Dog, Bluesclues, Tigger, Pooh, and Elmo.  It was a job that I enjoyed very much because it allowed me to be able to hold the most adorable children in the world.

Not all of the experience was enjoyable...

She was only 3 years old, learning how to speak, and had the most hypnotizing set of eyes.  She was not the one celebrating her birthday, but the way she clung onto me (As Pooh Bear) you'd think she was the guest of honor.  She taught me (well Pooh) how to do the clapping game, and she loved Pooh to the point of giving Pooh a hug every two minutes.  I never got her name, but I obviously never forgot her. 

The birthday party was for her 1 year old neighbor where their East Oakland yard complex was converted into a makeshift children's playland.  It's none of my business how the family was able to pay for our services in advance, nor was it any of my business on how they were able to afford the Pooh Airjump station. The mothers had their nails manicured, hair done, while the children, including my new 3 year old friend, were attired in hole-riddled clothing. 

At one point during the party, I was focusing my attention to the birthday boy.  That infuriated my new friend.  The next thing I knew, my adorable three year old transformed into an angry street lady.  "POOH!  Don't you turn your muther-f*n attention away from me!" Then, POW!  She whacked poor Pooh in the nose as hard as any three year old could whack someone.  So I motioned myself in character as Pooh wipes his tears of hurt.  The next thing I knew, "I'm so sorry, Pooh, you know I love you." and then I received a peck on the nose from her.  I let the incident go until I paid attention to her other peers.  "GODDAMIT POOH, you're supposed to be with ME!" and then, another WHACK!  This time around as I was "wiping Pooh's tears" I was more concerned especially after my li'l friend did another round of  "I'm sorry Pooh, you know I love you."  This time she walked away to jump in the jumper, and another older child approaches me.  "Don't cry, Pooh," she explains.  "Her daddy beats her mommy all the time like that."  My friend was only three.  This time, the tears became real.   

I returned to Pooh outfit back to the office where I reported to.  The owner comes out with a distressed look on her face.  Turned out that the credit card used to pay for our services was stolen.  She then asked me whether "THESE people are ever gonna learn."  I'm thinking not "ever," but HOW.

The Price of Living in Three Worlds...

My life.  I've come across so many people over the years, both bad and good, but when it comes down to it, it's just me and me only.  When you're in a personal family crisis like I am, you begin to realize who's really there for you and who isn't and unfortunately, there's more out there who isn't there than those who are. 

Take a look at my friendsters, hi5, or myspace.  It's not like I have zero people on my friends' list, and I do know everyone on that list, but in truth, because I'm divided into three different worlds, I can say that very few if any of them really know whole of myself or the sum of the parts.  No, I didn't max out my friends list, and I haven't even counted a hundred friends on any of those sites yet, but I have to say that I do know a lot of folks.  Those "lotsa" folks only know a part but not the whole. 

The majority of people on my friendsters list are from YKM(Yau Kung Moon Martial Arts Institute).  I've been a part of them for the past 15 years.  They've become a martial family for me.  At certain times out of the year I spend a good 80-90% of my entire weekends w/them.  This is what they know about me: church-going, actor, hardly comes to practice, spurts of being MIA, spurts of showing up consistently, until recently, the guy who brought his quiet girlfriend along, emergency tail player who hates the picture and scroll part, one of the "older" guys, mainly knows the jia ma dao or kwan dao set, "not sure if he's in LA now, or not."  That's pretty much the extent of what is known about me there.  I've been there for 15 years.

The next group of people are fellow actors, writers and other artists.  Unlike the YKM folks, they come and go according to projects.  Friendsters is a means to let others know about upcoming productions and performances.  This is what they know about me: student of Seydways, into improv, also a writer, worked w/AATC NWI, is a "weirdo" Christian, usually the designated driver at casting parties since he hardly drinks, done auditions in SF and LA, still a "work in progress," always working on his craft.  Notice that the word "talented" wasn't used to describe me?  Easy because I was never described that way.  My compliments is that I "do good work," but I was never described as "talented" or a "natural."  that's because I'm neither.  I work hard at becoming better.  But that's all they know about me.  Sure people at Seydways know more intimate details about myself, but that's the nature of our curriculum, and the actual results is that they know ABOUT me, but they don't really KNOW ME.

The next group on my list are people whom I went to church with at one time or another.  They're a part of my "church family."  They're SUPPOSED TO be considered to be my "brothers and sisters in Christ."  They're the ones who SHOULD know me the most but in truth, they don't.  At some point, they heard a lot of dirty details about myself in the form of a "prayer request" or an "accountability confession."  They encourage me when they feel that I'm heading in the right direction, or they struggle to not judge me as a person, but unfortunately, they eventually do.  As "siblings in Christ," there's a higher expectation of trust among each other, but the end result is a high devestating amount of let-downs, and back-stabbings.  What they know about me is that: I'm an activist against negative roles for actors like me(Asian), that I am an artist, that my struggle is whether to drink or not to drink at a party, or smoke or not to smoke,  that I do martial arts and lion dancing when time permits, that I grew up in Oakland, that I spend the majority of my time in SF, that I love eating, that I'm a big flirt.  I've openned up to member of this group the most only to be hurt at the end, and the worse of it, they know little about me too.

Actually, there's a 4th group on that list, and that's members of my own family.  Some grew up with me, and some only see me during family functions.  Some hear about my up-to's as well as my hearing about theirs.  But do they KNOW ME?  I think you could figure out the pattern...       

It comes with the territory when you have to divide yourself three-ways like that.(Four, if you include family) you spend so much time with each group, each having limited amount of knowledge of who you really are.  Then at the end of everything during a crisis or a major triumph, you look around and ask yourself, who's really out there for me?  And the answer is humbling. 

My mother is dying.  There's no other way to put this.  She's accepted the reality of her medical condition.  She's able to face it because of the people she's surrounded with.  They are people who've surrounded her most of her life, and for that she's grateful.  She somehow managed to allow people to know her, and she didn't get caught up into different worlds that divided her time and herself.  And I sit at her bedside contemplating if that was me in that bed, WHO'D be there around me, and the thought is such a blow to me as if seeing my mom lying there isn't a big enough blow. 

So after this so-called "HOLIDAY," it's back to business as usual for me: working, classes for acting, working out, rehearsals and eventually filming for an upcoming film, church, and if I have time, martial arts practice and/or performance, with the occasional auditions.  And I do this to the best of my abilities that I could mentally handle, while putting the best face forward that I could ever put.  The result is that very few people know what's going on inside.  It's hard, because in truth, if they know that little about me, how little do I know about them.  It is a two-way street here.  I know it.   

The Struggles, Decisions, and Crossroads...

I didn't expect to get ALL the answers in Hawaii when I went.  In fact, I expected to get MORE QUESTIONS than answers, and I did.  I hardly played "tourist," there because that was not the reason why I went there.  Now that I've been back for the past two weeks, I've been trying to get some more answers and more clarity on what to do with myself and my life.  Consider the following events for the past two weeks since returning from Hawaii:
1) Mom being in the hospital and as I type this, is still in the hospital.
2) Taking 2 spiritual gifts evaluation, and a personal inventory assessment to see whether I'm really on the right track.
3) Applying to grad school according to the results I received from the two evaluations.  Yes, I still show "creativity" as one of my attributes, but that is within HIS provisio, not mine. 
4) The continuous saga of whether or not I'm staying at BofA as a permanent recruiting coordinator.
5) Being casted as one of the leads for the indie film, So Beauty.  

That's my life nowadays.  It revolves around hospital visitations, rehearsals, class, work, and the gym.  I barely have time to do anything else, let alone date.  It's hard to dive into a social circle knowing that at any given moment you need to avail yourself to a legitimate medical emergency.  Plus, my mother offered to pass along her diamond on her ring to pass along to my future wife.  I don't want just anyone to have that.  So forgive me if I appear to be a little picky here. 

Plus as you could see, I've been pretty busy...
 

MAHALO

For the most part, I've been surrounded by very supportive people in the past six months.  Never mind the fact that I had very little support during my run in Ghost in the Machine.  This time around, news of my mother's illness have rallied a lot of support from well wishers who were a part of my life in years past.  They also understood my desperate need for a vacation and were pretty supportive of that.  From 1996 til this year, all of my trips outside of the San Francisco Bay Area were ministry related, work related, acting (which is work) related, or writing(work again) related.  The last time I flew out of the Bay Area was pre-911 to Vegas, and that was lion dance related. (still work, but the perks of being a weekend employee at the Bellagio...yummy!!!) 

Even Brenda knew that I was pretty overworked for the past 5 years, but since I wasn't working in a permanent full time position, I had little to show for that work. (ie:$$$) Going to auditions is a lot of hard work, 2 out of 10 auditions, you MAY get a "callback," and if you're lucky, talented, and look the way the director wants you to look, 1 out of 10 callbacks will result in a casting, and that may NOT be what you auditioned for.  Having put myself through that for the past five years, how could I not need a break?  Then on top of that, working at the various temp agencies for a more stable income, and THEN writing and directing a film short that has YET to be accepted by ANY film festivals...well hopefully you get the picture!

So here's a quick synopsis of the trip to Kauai in it's "CliffNotes" form:

Wed, Apr 27:  Ran errands as quickly as possible, knowing I needed to be at SFO BEFORE 12pm.  Lugged my luggage to the bus stop at 10:40 hoping to get to the airport no later than 11:45...I exit the SFO BART station exactly at 11:58.  Flight was pleasant as I had the whole seating section to myself there.  I was able to nap, eat, read as I pleased.  Upon arriving, my friend Thomas was waiting w/the dogs.  Apparently, there's a law requiring dogs to accompany you on the bed of the pickup truck when driving around the island.  We went to his place of new business to discuss what's been going on for the past 8 years since we were last in contact.  I went to the place where I arranged to rent up in Kilauea, and was nicely surprised at my accomodations.  For $40/night, I had my own room, bathroom, and kitchen and video usage. 
Thu 28:  Took a hike to Quarry Beach.  Afterwards, Thomas and his co-worker Cory took advantage of their day off as paramedics to hike to "hole too deep."  They named it that because there's a section there that's too deep to determine how deep the water is.  For the first time in 12 years, I had a belated 4-20 celebration, as well as having their homemade "apple pie."  I was unable to swim afterwards because everything and everyone was soooo...they were just sooooo....period.  Watching crayfish eat can be very facinating when you're stoned.  It was the first time being an active Christian stoned.  I wouldn't recommend it.  No 420 ministry in the near future for me!!!
Fri 29:  Things were going well, until I felt a pang in my stomach.  The next thing I knew, I had to use the restroom, and unfortunately, I had to stay there for the rest of the day.  I was chewing out God like crazy, questioning why did I fly all the way there, just to sit still.  It was the LONGEST DAY I had.  Longest night too. 
Sat 30:  I finally got a chance to enjoy the beach, though I was still sick.  I soon discovered that 420 was a family affair on the island.  I made my peace with God, and decided to put Him first including my acting and writing.  I also decided to not pursue anything in L.A. YET.  I realized there were other avenues to explore when I return home and the acting and writing would still be there, but not in the forefront.  I renewed my committment that night and because I was still ill, took a relaxing night.
Sun May 1: Church service.  Not alot to say except that I went to church that day and continued on my unplanned "liquid diet."  It was better to be safe than sorry in regards to my illness though my appetite for solid food was returning.
Mon 2: I got to see what Kauai was all about as a tourist.  I did my "tourist" shopping that day.  Got to go on another hike, but this time as a newly committed person who could choose to say "no" to 420 and drinking.  Hiking at the bottom of Waimea Canyon to the Obake Bridge was breathtaking.  On top of that, to be able to eat the local's loco moco and have dinner at a chinese-hawaiian restaurant runned by pilipinos, was a true "local" experience within itself.  Never mind that some a*hole intentionally hit us as we were making a left turn before the hike.
Tue 3: The trip was too short.  I realized that, but was able to catch one more waterfall before heading to the airport.  Then to be able to see another friend whom I haven't seen in 8 years later that day before my flight was icing on the cake.  It's too bad she's Thomas' ex wife.  When they were together 8 years ago, they seemed to me destined to have a marriage that'd work.  I guess you never know...Flight was too damn crowded, and then because I didn't accompany anyone, was asked to move to another seating location.  Got to SFO, and as I was waiting for Kit and Jonas, my "big sis" May walks right by me as she had just arrived from Honolulu.  I get home only to find a note on my door telling me that my mother went into the hospital the day before.  I was glad to be back, but also wished to take another vacation.

Dunno when the next trip will be, but I do know that I do need to take the time to take better care of myself.  Now, I'm learning the lesson that life is too short.