Day 1

Happy New Year.

For the next 365 days I will be journaling online. My goal is to keep track of myself, appreciate the crazy goodness of life and hold myself accountable for the choices I make. I am trading my cloak of silence for ones of honesty, openness and courage. Be patient. New wardrobes always require a period of adjustment.

365 days begins now.

Thanks for reading along.
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This morning as I stood in my room after my shower, I glanced over my shoulder and saw this:

This is Josephine. She is the resident cat at the castle, and she nearly gave me a coronary. She roams all over Hollywood and only comes home to eat. Because her owner lives on the second floor, Josephine gets into the building through whatever open window she can find. Still wrapped in my towel and already running late, I spent the next 10 minutes coaxing this kitty out of the apartment. I finally picked her up, carried her to the door and deposited her into the hallway. As I stood up I realized that I had also deposited my towel.

Day 1: Public nudity.

I've been feeling lonely, melancholy, exhausted and homesick. I've been questioning whether being away from my family and friends is worth the effort of building a life here. My Six Monthiversary sent me reeling.

But I believe that a certain amount of reeling is good for growth.

The strongest shiniest plants afterall, begin their lives as seeds buried in a pile of manure.

Five Months, A Lifetime.

"Don't ask God to order your steps if you aren't ready to move your feet."

It has been awhile.

The honesty that this post required is what kept me from writing it until now.

Next Monday marks my 5 month California anniversary. To celebrate I am heading to the beach on the preceeding Saturday to stop time for awhile. To think. To pray. To listen. Quiet the noise, laugh, cry and marvel.

During the past five months:

My Car Broke Down.

Well, broke down is kind of harsh. It lost power.

While driving every gauge, light and dial would decide to take a little rest. The radio would stop playing, the cd would spontaneously eject. When it started happening regularly I decided to get it checked out. The prognosis was a loose battery cable. Most likely the result of  the condition of the roads while driving across the country, combined with the condition of the roads in LA.

"It's going to cost $175 just for us to lift the hood. I don't know after that... Ms. Willingham, please don't cry."

I Lost My Job.

It seems like everytime I pray earnestly, a big thing happens. Five months ago on a Tuesday night I prayed for guidance and the next day I was moving to LA.

I honestly hadn't felt right since the day I started the job that moved me here.

What in the world was I doing? Had I made a mistake? What would everyone think if I decided to come back home? Will I ever make friends? According to everyone, I'm supposed to be happy. Why aren't I?

When will this gold start to glitter?

And so one night I prayed.

"Lord, I really don't think you brought me all the way out here to be unhappy. And I don't believe that I'm supposed to go home just yet. PLEASE show me something because this isn't working. I trust you. I won't flake out. It's me! I'm ready."

The next day I lost my job.

After I left the building I got in my car, took some deep breaths and wrapped my hand around the cross that hangs from my rearview mirror. "Okay." I said. And I drove off.  

My Lettuce Obsession Almost Landed Me on Television.

I decided to pass on my 15 minutes of fame.

I was being considered for a show that would have highlighted my obsession with lettuce. My mom and my friend B willingly let me interview them for the producers. I detailed all of my absurdities about the vegetable I adore on film. But when it came time for the in home interview where I would be filmed eating, I flaked.

Honestly, I was afraid of looking like a complete nutcase.

The other night I was sitting outside talking to a friend. He had a beer, I had a bowl of mixed greens from the  farmer's market. It was so good and fresh that I just wanted it plain.

About halfway thru his beer, he stopped drinking to stare at me as I picked through my bowl of greens and said, "I can't believe you're eating that lettuce like it's a bowl of potato chips."

I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

There's something to be said for having moments like that without a camera in your face.

I Got a Dance Gig.

I danced for my first feature film last weekend. It was a blast. Our choreographer, Mecca Vazie Andrews is a phenomenal talent and one of the nicest most sincere and interesting people you could ever hope to meet. I adored the cast, and production crew. It was one of the best experiences of my life and one that I will always cherish.

I Landed in The Sweat Spot.

After I lost my job, while frantically looking for another, I called a friend who called a friend. A few conversations later I ended up as studio manager at Ryan Heffingtons dance studio, The Sweat Spot.

I love my job. The 12+ hour days. The people who don't quite know what to make of me just yet. The ones who decided to welcome me with open arms anyway. The dance family that I don't quite belong to, but appreciate because they love each other and make me realize how blessed I am to have a dance family of my own. The thoughtfulness of the people I work with warms my heart. I couldn't have asked to be placed in a better environment.

I love my boss, Ryan Heffington. If you don't know about him, get schooled :). http://www.sirheffington.com/ He is one of the three most brilliantly creative minds that I have ever met. The other two being Bubba Carr and Lee Blalock. And he has one of the sweetest souls.

I love Ryan's business partner Kristin. That girl is crazy as hell, and she works hard. We're both business minded and like to get ish done. We get each other and that is so refreshing. And she's nice to boot.

My days are made up of things as mundane as data entry and as thrilling as exchanging text messages with Mia Michaels about rehearsal schedule changes, watching her genius in action and everything in between.

We have classes as small as 2 students and as big as 75. I'm intrigued by the team and the students. They are incredible people. I live for that kind of diversity and talent. The energy of the place greets you at the door and makes you never want to leave.

What's Next?

I'm moving in two weeks. Thanks to a new connection with a dancer I've known for awhile but am just now getting to know, I will have my own room, my own bathroom and my own balcony in North Hollywood. We'll see if I can survive the heat of a summer in the valley!

After this 5 month lifetime, I am beginning to exhale. Just how many more lifetimes I will experience on this journey remains to be seen, but I welcome them.

My steps are being ordered.

I am moving my feet.












  

Here.

The valet parking man at Cafe Sushi has it in for me.

I was floating on air after my first LA shopping experience at H&M. The store was half the size of a football field. I had a giftcard. I'd collected enough clothes to go over my giftcard limit by $15, only to get to the register and find that one of my items was $15 off.

I cried. And then I drove to Cafe Sushi.

I passed Mr. Valet and parked. Sure the sign said no parking after 6:00 and it was 6:07, but I had been kissed by the H&M Fairy. Nothing could touch me.

Mr. Valet glared at me as I walked past him and into the restaurant. I ordered my spicy salmon roll to go, took a seat at the door and glared back. In the middle of our glaring match he took his phone out, dialed, smiled and looked away.

I knew, in that instant, that he'd called the parking police.

The little white hybrid drove away from ticketing my car exactly 2 seconds before I exited the restaurant. As I walked past Mr. Valet, he smirked. I stopped turned my head slowly towards him, squinted my eyes into crescent moons, lifted my hand, curled my fingers and silently gave him my best Color Purple Ceely to Mister "Till you do right by me, everythang you THINK about, gonna crumble!" curse.

The smirk vanished.

Victory.

Complete with a $55 ticket as a trophy.

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Sunday March 28 marks my 30th day as a California resident. I've decided that on that day I will take myself to the beach to reflect, recharge and refocus.

Tonight, I write.

For the past 28 days I have been on a rollercoaster. But the track is invisible. My seatbelt is fastened, but it's not secure. My senses are functioning at peak levels, but brain is too stunned to process it all.

Keep your seatbelt securely fastened.

There are times when the energy in the air around me is invigorating. It is so palpable that it has a pulse. And there are times when it is filled with such uncertainty and doubt that it causes me to catch my breath.

I am grateful for this opportunity, this job, the willingness of my friend to open her home to me, the people I'm meeting...

I am discouraged that I don't know when I'm going to find a place of my own, that I still don't feel settled, that I still get lost, that making friends is not easy, that the business of building a life at 31 is a lot more complicated than it was when I did it in college at the age of 18.

Your arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle while the train is in motion.

Think has become my constant companion.

I pray. I think. I work. I think. I dance. I think. I walk. I think. I people watch. I think. I meet people. I think. I smile. I think. I cry. I think.

And last weekend, Think thought of a question:

"Why does your 'There' keep shifting?"

For 23 years my 'There' was LA. In recent years, 'There' expanded to include a job I liked in an office where I could where jeans everyday, and a chance to start over in the one place I'd always wanted to live but had never even visited.

And all of a sudden, I was Here.

Now, I want my own place. I want friends that know me as well as the ones I already have. I want to know my way around without getting lost. I want ease and effortlessness. I want to know where to go and what to do and who to call. I want a we to spend time with.

I want to be There.

Hold on tight.

The thing about There, I'm learning, is that it is always just out of reach.

The thing about Here, I'm learning, is that it is always available.

Here is LA. Here is a job in an office where I wear jeans everyday. Here is the person who offered me a place to live and goes out of her way to make sure I am comfortable. Here are the people I've met who are welcoming me into their lives and assuring me that they too felt like this once.

In time Here will be all the things I miss about home and the life I left because when Here shifts, it takes you along.  

So, since I'll be Here for awhile, I figure I might as well enjoy the view.

Because sometimes time does more than just pass. Sometimes it builds character.
Sometimes you lose your way.
Sometimes you don't.
Sometimes you laugh.
Sometimes you cry.

And sometimes you pay $63 for an $8 roll of raw fish.

Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for. - Epicurus


Enjoy the ride.

Pieces.

The Prep.

"Mom, do you need this green bag in the car or can I put it in the trunk?"
"Will it fit?"
"Yeah. I fit everything I'm bringing in four bags. Two are in the trunk, two in the back seat."
"Well, yes then, put it in."

Fast forward 10 minutes.

"Mom, do you want the mini dvd player?"
"No. I have my book and my Nintendo. But they're in the green bag."
"The one in the trunk?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me to pull over."
"No. It's fine... I just thought I'd finish the book I'm reading."
"I can pull over."
"No."

Fast Forward 30 seconds.

"And I thought I might play my Nintendo a little."
"I'm pulling over."
"Well, okay. If that's what you want to do. I have some fruit snacks back there for you too."

I love that woman.


The Drive.

Memphis-Arkansas-Oklahoma-New Mexico-Arizona-California. $135 in gas.

We made it in 2.25 days.

This country is breathtaking, and driving across it was one of the best things I have ever experienced.

And the one thing I never want to do again.

Ever.


The City.

I felt at home as soon as I got here.

The weather is perfection. I live in the middle of everything wonderful. I've taken walks through The Grove, explored the park across the street that looks out to the Hollywood Hills. I can walk to Ralph's, Whole Foods and Trader Joes. Nearly every road leads to the beach.

I've seen my first facelift, a little old lady with curly blue hair and Robert DeNiro.

I'm close to one of the best dance studios in the country and will begin classes there next week.

Next Sunday I will walk down the street to the Kodak Theater and wait with all the other gawkers to get iPhone pics of the celebrities walking the red carpet at the Oscars.
I've found my Target store.

I am in love with LA.


Work.

My first day of work was good. The drive was scenic. The traffic decent. I didn't get lost. I made it on time. The work was interesting and challenging.

And then The Man arrived.

The Man was pleasant enough, but he didn't say hello, introduce himself or interact with me. I shrugged it off and stuck my tongue out at him behind his back for good measure.

It was liberating.

An hour later I took my newly liberated self to the restroom and in the middle of trying out different poses in the mirror, I glanced to my right and saw the urinals.

After thinking for a split second that they were actually excessively tall bedets, then wondering out loud why in the world there were urinals in the ladies' restroom, my senses returned. I hung my head in shame, whispered a pathetic, "oh.", trudged back to our suite and went directly to the office of The Man.

I streteched my lips into a smile and said, "Hi, I'm Kilah. I don't think we've met.". To which he replied, "It's nice to meet you! How is your day going?", rose from his desk and extended his left hand for me to shake.

I extended my right hand. He dropped his left hand, swung his right arm back and forth and stuck his left hand out again.

I turned and walked away.


Me.

I'm suspended.

In 2.5 weeks I accepted a new job that I hadn't even applied for, packed my life into four bags, said goodbye to everything familiar, drove across the country to a place I've never been and began anew.

This dichotomy of crippling sadness and overwhelming jubilation has thrown me for a loop.

I can only liken it to the excitement of getting a new 1000 piece puzzle that you've had your eye on for a long time, opening the box and dumping all the pieces onto the floor only to realize that a puzzle requires assembly.

You stand there stunned for awhile before you accept the fact that while what you wanted may look a little scattered, all the necessary pieces have been provided.

Your job is to figure out how they fit.

So you take a deep breath, grin, roll up your sleeves, kneel on the floor and start lining up the pieces.

                                         ---------------------------

Let the fun begin.

And Then You Pack.

I'm moving to LA in 20 days. I'm moving to LA in 20 days?!

What do you do when you wake up in the morning as one person and go to sleep that night as someone else?

You pack.

Or...

You buy 3 duffel bags, a box of gluten free chicken strips, half a pound of brocollini salad, a blueberry Izze and a People magazine, sit down on your kitchen floor and hyperventilate.

You pray.

You call your sister and a few good friends, update Facebook, hand in two week notices, and then you call your Mother.

You sort through your memories and highlight the ones you don't want to forget.

You think about saying goodbye to Princess Charles at his drag queen show on the 18th and burst into tears.

In an effort to get it all in, you call and text old friends to arrange meetings and drinks and lunches and dinners.

You listen to your best friend when she tells you to stop worrying because you can't do it all.

You get honked at for not going when the light turns green.

You convince yourself that the fact that you've maintained a sense of normalcy at the office instead of dancing on your chair to Miley Cyrus' 'Party in the USA' should earn you a Best Actress Oscar nod.

You hold your breath until you realize that breathing is one of the necessities of life.

You sing The Bare Necessities.

You find, download and purchase The Bare Necessities from iTunes.
 
You thank God everyday for His grace in granting such an undeserving person her biggest wish.

You look at your newly purchased tube of toothpaste and think, "Wow, I'll still be using this when I live in California."

You find yourself staring into space with your eyebrows raised and your eyes bugged out.

You make yourself stop doing that because it dries out your contact lenses.

You buy lettuce even though you know you're too nervous to eat it.

You beg your Mom to drive across the country with you. She agrees. You throw up a little.

You pray again.

And then you pack.

HEARD. Vol. 2

The people quoted below have three things in common: they're all adults, they're all people I spend time with and none of them had any idea that their words were being recorded. Their identities will not be revealed.

Last time I gave myself 7 days to get the recording done. This time I just listened.

And this is what I heard.

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"I want some original house of pancakes. But I won't get any anytime soon because I'm a crackhead."
 
"I hate when someone dances and they thrust too hard. You can't fix that."
 
"It was like a silent announcement."
 
"It's nationwide. You know. The whole world."

"Happy birthday. Wait. I meant to say thank you. How did that happen?"
 
"I have to have a schedule or I'll just throw up all the time."
 
"Why when I say breathe do you breathe out? That's not breathing."
 
"I just wish I had a rhinestone cuff on my ankle."
 
"It's the latest thing! It's been out for awhile though."
 
"Whenever I walk around in Office Depot, my toes catch on the floor."
 
"Plain potato chips taste like stale milk."
 
"I want you to be Eminem for Halloween next Christmas."
 
"How do they grow chocolate?"
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Kilah: "If this is the caliber of people that make up my friendship circles, I must be doing something right."

Can You Dig It?

Dress? check. Shoes? check. Accessories? check. Hairstyle idea? check. Makeup? check.

New Year's Eve 2009.

To say that I struggled with NYE plans this year would be the grossest of understatements.

Every year of my life I've partied.

When I was child my family gathered at my cousins' house. We kids ate, played, danced, dodged our Uncle's rolled up papertowel balls, counted down to Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve and watched the adults get tipsy.

As an adult I have visited various party locations, drunk every available liquid from Manischievitz to homemade "punch", I've eaten pizza, cake, dip, chips, brownies, cheese, meat, olives.... I've danced, I've sung, I've enjoyed great company.

This year I raged a battle in my head:

Head: You should go.
Me: But it's too far!
Head: People are expecting you.
Me: They won't notice!
Head: You like being with friends.
Me: Can't I see them next week?! 
Head: You always celebrate the New Year.
Me: Change is good!
Head: People will think you're strange.
Me: They already do!
Head: People will give you funny looks.
Me: I like consistency!
Head: It'll be great once you get there.
Me: It's not the there, it's the getting!
Head: Deep down you love a party.
Me: But up top I don't want to be bothered.
Head: If you don't go, who will help you ring in the New Year?
Me: My subconcious?

All yesterday my responses ranged from the unenthusiastic "sure." to "i don't know" to "what time again?" to "we'll see." to "probably not.", but at 9:45 I laid out my outfit. Black dress, boots, accessories and nail polish. I lined up hair products and makeup and set the flat and curling irons on high.

That evening, coats were checked, outfits admired, hor d'oeuvres sampled and music played. Partygoers danced, kissed cheeks, exchanged hugs and best wishes. Shouts rang out and fireworks lit up the sky.

I slept through it all.

Right on top of the outfit I had so meticulously laid out.

I missed every phone call and every text. I didn't update my facebook status. I forgot to watch the apple drop.

When I woke up at 8am bright-eyed and not hungover, I giggled at my own absurdity. Maybe I am a boring old uninteresting dud. Or maybe, just maybe, the change with which I rung in the New Year, is the beginning of a change in the way I live my life.

Maybe I'll be neater.
Maybe I'll wash my car.
Maybe I'll do more than pause at stop signs.
Maybe I'll be less easily distracted.
Maybe I'll be more normal.
Maybe I'll cover my gray.
Maybe I won't carry a tub of Vaseline in my purse.
Maybe I'll stop forgetting the things I don't want to remember.

Or maybe not.

This morning I decided to go on a 31 day cleansing fast. No meat, no dairy, only veggies, fruit, brown rice and water.

This afternoon I decided to buy ice cream.

So this year I resolve to keep being me. More positive yet still quirky. More focused yet still weird. My deck of cards is still short an ace and my train still stops just outside the station.

And maybe, just maybe, that's okay.

Can you dig it?
I knew that you could.

Happy New Year.