There was a long moment last year where I thought it was a bleak, bleak time out there for me. There was nothing to participate in with regards to a job in the film industry in Vancouverland. Sad. I would often wonder why I left my cushy studio job in LA for this life. Quelle domage, I thought.

I did numerous things in the meantime such as opting for a semi-stable job in real estate. What?? Well...it was a job that allowed me, cash wise, to go for drinks after work to drown my sorrowful depression and lament to my friends about how down-in-the dumps I was about my "situation" and I ain't talking about my abs...although, it would be nice to have a six pack. Too much effort.

I would say that working at a fluorescent light infested office job was better than living under my parents' roof, or better yet, under a bridge in tent city. Although, nowadays, you can buy a pretty nice tent for under $100.

I tried to take each day in stride. To mix things up during my mundane day, I'd go to a different sushi restaurant at lunch hoping for the best all-you-can-eat buffet under $10 and prayed that I wouldn't get the runs later. That was a tough one. I would also window shop my way through Saphora while asking for numerous samples, so I didn't have to buy the real deal. I would change hair styles and hats so they wouldn't recognized me. I would also do this at Holt Renfrew in order to get their free sample of Creme de la Mer diamond skin cream! Oh the shame!! Whatever. You know how expensive that cream is?? Even if I had millions I wouldn't spend that much on face cream. Sometimes I feel like Jennifer Aniston in that movie "Friends with Money" where she steals samples of face cream from the houses she cleans. Dear God. It was so close to the truth, I'm now ashamed.

It was FFN (fun for now), but I wasn't doing what I LOVED. I'd say about 90% of the people in this world aren't doing what they love, so why should I be one of the privileged ones who DOES do what she loves? Perhaps my destiny is to slug it out like the rest of 'em. Isn't that why they created "The Office" and why it is so wildly successful? People can relate to that office purgatory.

I have to say, though, I paid my bloody dues and now, within the last year, I am finally seeing some genuine success. I shall knock on wood, though, as my superstition gets the better of me. It can all turn on a dime, as we all know . Go ahead and blame this glass half empty attitude of mine on last year's fork in the road. We all need someone or something to blame, right?

The Banff World Television Shmooze Festival

The last time I was in Banff, I was a tour guide for international students on the red-eye Greyhound bus traveling from Vancouver to the Rockies during my summers off from University. It was one of those jobs that, in theory, sounded entertaining until I had to disguise myself as an uber-religious church girl in order to deter those Latin playboys from hitting on their tour guide prey. Ole!

Ten years later, I have returned to Banff for the World Television Festival, and there is only one thing in common with my last visit – red eyes. The late night shmooze fests were followed by my early morning “pitch of a lifetime.” This became my identity.

Standing in pointy heels 16 hours a day while trying to remember the names of 1200 people was a challenge. I even forgot what my own name was by the end of it all. I have battle scars on my poor heel-trashed toes to prove my ambitions were worth the effort. 500 plus business cards later and the who’s who of Hollywood North, South, East and West have become my new best acquaintances.

What I didn’t realize was that this festival has become one of the most remarkable entertainment events in North America. The new generation of Television’s future mixed and mingled with the seasoned veterans of TV’s decision makers. Writers and producers from all over the globe graciously introduced themselves to strangers, old friends and possible future colleagues. Given my personality, I was in my element. I offered my careful Canadian sensibility on what it was like living and working in la la land, how Vancouver has given me the same opportunities as its California counterpart and I gave thoughtful glances towards my ambitions for the future of television.

The thing that is always interesting about conferences is how to define the fine line between bragging and actually being proud of your own accomplishments. Everyone at any conference has made something out of nothing, so my word of advice is not to be shy about sharing your resume with the guy sitting next to you on the party bus. Most of the time, they’ll ask anyways.

I met one humble Canadian who was from the Maritimes. Right away, I knew this guy was a Canadian through and through. He didn’t look like he was a Hollywood shark by his way of dress, which happened to resemble that of a possible lobster tradesman. In the same tone, his accent was complimentary to the hometown quality of the Eastern townships, eh? Guess what? Don’t judge a book by its cover. Behind his humility and dress stood one of the most well known TV writers of our time. I actually was star-struck. How did I meet him? He was standing in the food line by himself and I thought I’d strike up a friendly conversation. He looked like a fish out of water, so I was really curious to hear what his story was. Oh, he was full of stories, alright! He practically writes them all for television! Had he been dressed in a flashy Hugo Boss suit, perhaps he would have been mobbed. In any case, I was lucky enough to meet such a kind and genuine person, who disguised his overstated career by his understated quality.

All in all, I had objectives at Banff to meet as many people as possible, and to share my hard work and accomplishments with those of the same mentality. I live life like I’m eighty, most of the time, as I try to diminish any regrets. So far, it’s working. Where will I be a year from now? Hopefully in Banff, feeling a bit more comfortable in my pointy-toed heels.

LA Cigar

Cigar houses are there for a reason, n'est pas? Why then are people so compelled to smoke these things on set? It is only ever the LA peeps who do so, and when I say "peeps" I mean people who are posing as LA prototypes. They are sitting there, fat, beard-worthy, wearing a movie logo jacket and Gucci blue-tinted glasses with a cigar hanging out of their American accented mouths. I'm American, so I should know. Now, in case you haven't been on set, there are actually hundreds of people in close proximity of each other, so if two or more people decide to smoke a cigar, it will infiltrate everyone from the background performers to the camera man to the make-up artist.

I just don't understand why it is deemed "cool" to smoke a cigar while working. It just screams LA, doesn't it? Any normal Canadian would wait until the day is done and proceed to their Anglo-Saxon posh man club in the downtown core where you can sit there with your other conservative cronies and smoke up until your house burns down. I don't have a problem with that, in fact, I'd like to join you! However, when it is three in the afternoon, and you are in the middle of a work day while surrounded by hundreds of people, what is the need to be a poser? Are these people insecure? Cigars embody a certain type of prestige, don't they? Having lived in LA for years, all I could do was chuckle at the site and cough at the smoke. I sighed in relief that I had moved away from the insecurity pumpkin patch, because you and I both know, these people turn into pumpkins after their Cinderella Hollywood success stories have diminished into the twilight.

IS THERE A MENTOR IN THE BUILDING?

Do people really know what they are doing in the film industry or do they merely fly by the seat of their sequined pants? I
wholeheartedly believe that most people, more often than not, fake it until they make it in any business, to some extent, but not without some help. My observation has been that when someone does make it, either by chance or by hard work, most keep their secrets to their success securely hidden in their back pocket, but why intentionally keep them concealed? How about sharing the wealth of knowledge to an unknown who is just trying to learn the ropes? What have you got to lose? Seriously. You aren’t going to be around forever, so why not pass it on? You’ll gain good Karma, I promise!

All I want is a mentor. Is that too much to ask? I want somebody to say, “HEY, why don’t I show you the ropes” or something along those fruitful lines that I so long to hear from the lips of anyone…um…somewhat normal. I’ve had a few crazy folks say they would help, but that always turns into an “I saw that one coming” kind of a disaster. I’m never totally shocked when something goes wrong, but it would be nice if I could say one day that so-in-so really helped me out in this business, without any kind of ulterior motive lurking in his or her dark alley of a mind.

Every so often, I think, “now is my chance to learn!” and I really become excited about the possibilities that could be excavated from the underground Hollywood vault I am about to discover! Maybe I’ll find the secret scroll to success ala “Kung Fu Panda” style! Yes! Po, from that incredibly delightful movie which was garnished with Buddhist afterthoughts and quests for personal growth, had that mentor I am longing for so desperately. He had two mentors, actually; a wise old Yoda-like tortoise, and a rabbit who at first hated Po’s guts, but learned to accept Panda Po for who he was as a…uh…person or, pardon me, as a panda. The hare saw Po’s faults, but used them as a way to enhance Po's character and, as a result, made him into a better panda. Brilliant! Does this actually exist outside of a cartoon? I never got a tortoise nor a hare to show me how to cross that finish line of success.

Sigh. There is still time, my child...right? Right??? God, I hope so.

Of course, I come across some, shall I say, interesting individuals in the film industry who are down right cruel. All I ask of them is, instead of being nasty or revengeful, try being helpful. The former is a mark of insecurity anyways. Is that what you want to be known for? If not, then extend your hand to those who ask kindly for your guidance and see what happens. I bet you’ll feel pretty damn good about yourself when it is all said and done.

There, Universe, I've asked for my mentor and if it means I must play the part myself, so be it. Just let me know, so I can start acting.

What is your Security Blanket?

Do you ever think "that could never happen to me!" and then realize that the "that" you are thinking of is actually happening to you? Whether positive or negative, I know you've had "that" thought. For argument's sake, I will take the negative rather than the positive, and go from there.

When I see the many drug addicts downtown as I sleepily saunter to work at 9am every morning, I think "that could never happen to me." In the same fashion, when I hop over the sleeping homeless man who is sadly trying to keep warm under a fire blanket in a somewhat sheltered stairwell in my parking garage, I think again, "that could never happen to me." Or can it?

How does someone get to "that" point in their life? I've been asking myself this particular question lately as the bleakest economic time I've seen in my life is hitting everyone, and it is quite accurately hitting me. Call me narcissistic, yes, but people, this is a blog and blogs are just that...somewhat shameless. I am hoping that by me writing about my own "that" in life, you might put your own life into perspective. You might, perhaps, even have a sobering thought that no matter what your situation is, it could be worse, like the man in the stairway who is barely covered by his security blanket.
What is your security blanket? Is it an actual blanket like the man in the stairwell, or is it a little something, dare I say, cushier? Could it be your nest egg that is slowly going down the drain? Is it your overpriced car? Maybe it is the $30K you've saved up for a down payment on a one bedroom condo in the "coolest" part of town which has subsequently dwindled away in GM stock...oops! I still have a GM credit card. Seriously. They took away my points, but probably because they knew I'd never buy one of those fuel hungry wheelbarrows anyway!
Whatever your blanket, at least you aren't the man in the stairwell. How do I know that? Well...you are on the internet, therefore you must have some form of shelter in order to read this blog entry.

I'm not saying our hard times aren't valid just because we aren't shivering under a blanket like Mr. Stairwell, but it does make you think a little, doesn't it? Whether you've lost your job or you are losing copious amounts of security blanket-esque capital, you'll most certainly come out of this eventually, you'll find another job and, hey, you'll even forget this ever happened, because humans are great at forgetting...