December 23,
2012 - Week 3
“Walk into a
room like you own it!”
That’s
something my Mom taught my brother and me when we were growing up in New
Jersey. “Walk into a room like you own
it. Say “Hello” to everyone you know,
shake hands with all the elected officials and show them respect for their
title and position. Give a hug and a
kiss on the cheek to all your friends whether they are male or female.” Not a big deal to learn, right? Well it is when you’re in the fourth grade,
but that’s my Mom. One of the other
things I learned early in life was that “She is always right!” Once I learned both of these rules, life
got a whole lot easier.
Truth be
told, it is one of the best lessons to learn.
It wasn’t for the “Look at Me” factor as it is out here in Hollywood,
but it’s a mantra that causes you to exude confidence, something everyone needs
in any profession. Still to this day, I
walk into a bar or restaurant as if the name on the front of the building read “CAVANAUGH’S”,
do a lap around the room either visually or physically and then I move on to
say “Hello” to anyone I know before sitting down. It’s just a way of life, but a good game plan
if you want to succeed at anything, CONFIDENCE IS EVERYTHING!
I was cool
with this and good at it… until the first year of living in Los Angeles!
Don’t know
when it started exactly, don’t know how it started exactly, but living here
changed this family breading for the first two to five years of life on the
mean streets of Tinseltown.
Suddenly, almost
overnight I was schlepping into a room, looking for a table in the back of the
place and doing my hardest not to be seen.
Could’ve been a number of things that kicked it off and at the same time,
I know for a fact that there wasn’t one incident that made this happen. It just started and kind of spun out of
control.
I use to
think it was because I was living alone for the first time in over 30 years and
didn’t have my family in the immediate arm’s length zone to fall back on, but
that wasn’t all of it. That had a small
part to do with this lack of self-confidence, but not all of it. I thought maybe it was because I didn’t have
a girlfriend or just someone to be intimate with for the first 2 years living here
and back home I always did. Even though
sometimes the women would keep it on the “D.L.” or the “down low” so no one
knew that they were doing the hibbity-dibbity with the big, white boy, but that
wasn’t it either.
The whole
thing started to worry me and it was taking its toll on me in a strange way!
I DIDN’T LIKE MYSELF!
This was
something I had battled young in life. I
distinctly remember it kicking in sometime in Grade School between Third and
Fourth Grade and then there was one of those “Kid Moments” that changed my life
forever.
It was in
the Metuchen Y.M.C.A. during some kind of open house. My brother and I had been attending there regularly
swimming, arts and crafts, gymnastics… to us it was like an all year, indoor
Summer Camp! I remember the whole family
going there to swim once a week. I
remember my brother and I being dropped off there for other classes, but there
was this Open House and I remember there was this room with all the arts and
crafts projects on tables around the room.
My brother and I were in front of my parents, them a few feet behind us. I guess my brother went to look at something
else in the room and I was standing there alone looking at exhibits when two
boys, strange boys, no one I had ever met before in my young life came up
behind me and I guess my larger than average third grade ass was an appealing
target because they began to kick me in my butt and laugh.
I never knew
who they were. I didn’t know what to
do. I just stood there and took their
knees to my rump. My father still behind
me, but I guess a distance enough that the boys didn’t think we were together,
my father started to yell, “Hit them!
Tommy, don’t’ just take it! You’re
bigger than them, hit em!”
I wish I
could tell you that I had a “Karate Kid” moment and threw a “Sand the floor”
smack down on those suckers followed by a Ralph Macchio roundhouse kick to the
head, but I didn’t. I just took it. Not because I wasn’t humiliated. Not because I wasn’t embarrassed. I was all those things, but because I really
didn’t know how to fight back. I didn’t
know how to return fire under wartime conditions because I was a really sweet,
little boy who didn’t know those things.
We weren’t built that way or raised that way.
The ride
home was a long one and I sat in the back seat with my brother as Mom and Dad
talked about the incident. They were
very good parents and realized what the problem was… it had nothing to do with
learning how to fight. Dad was a
teacher, he had seen this before and they both new it was all from a lack of
self-confidence, but they weren’t sure how to build that. You have to remember this was pre-1990 and
the real age of “self-enlightenment” hadn’t really kicked in, but they knew something
had to be done.
The answer
would come from a place that would play a huge part in my adult life and still
does… The Edison Police Department.
My Mom was
politically involved at the municipal and county level. She had a lot of friends who were policemen. I can’t remember who she was telling the
story to, but that officer suggested putting me in martial arts classes. Back to the Y.M.C.A., but this time in a
little room with mats and no windows down in the basement, me and about 6 other
boys were introduced into the world of JUDO.
That’s how
it started. Learning flipping and self-defense
moves and things I don’t remember what their proper names are, I learned enough
to get me up to the next level, an orange belt and to participate in an A.A.U.
Competition where I took home a silver medal, but not after having three bouts
where in the third bout an older, taller boy with a blue belt, counteracted whatever
I did and slammed my head to the mat where all I remember is the referee
talking to me like I had been knocked out by Rocky Balboa, even though I lost…
my confidence levels had risen from zero to one hundred and I was more equipped to go out into the
world.
That was
true until I moved to Los Angeles.
Now here I
was into pursuing a dream of my life time and I was slowly losing my confidence
levels while my self-esteem was being zapped.
I had been okay for the longest time and knew where I stood and what I
was up to, but being out here I noticed something, that people’s faces would
change when I would walk into a room. I
noticed that I was usually the largest person in the room and it did draw the
attention of what back home we’d call “fish eyes”. You know those big, wide eyes, black pupil
stares.
I usually
shrug that crap off, but fact was back home… I’m not the biggest person in the
room. Here I am. Then I learned the other thing, that here
being a “BIG BOY” in the bar can make you a target for beautiful women to play
jokes on you. NOW, you might be thinking
I’m being “over sensitive” and “paranoid”, but this one I have a witness.
My friend
and I were in a sports bar on Cahuenga during football season. The bar was packed and I had the last seat at
the outdoor bar. My buddy standing next
me and we’re talking when I need to hit the men’s room. I leave my drink and when I come back there’s
a beautiful blonde standing next to my chair.
I sit back down when she starts to flirt. I mean I’m not mistaken, it’s on. I’m figuring… let’s see where this goes when
we start to talk and it’s going really well and I give her my chair and buy her
a drink. My friend being the greatest
wingman since Maverick and Goose slides off to the side and keeps the “East
Coast Creed” of non-interference. ** Side
note… L.A. Hipsters, Rockers and Scene Boys DO NOT abide by this Creed. Back home a guy talking to girl means you
stay away. Here… a guy talking to girl
means the guy trys to get in the middle and steal his way into the convo… a
purely scumbag thing to do, but it happens all the time here! **
So I buy
blonde, Hollywood drunk girl a drink… a MOSCOW MULE. I don’t know what the hell is in the drink,
but I learned that I don’t care how good she looks… never try to date a girl
that swallows anything with the word “mule” in it. We have a long talk and she’s looped… very
looped, but for the first time since I moved here, I’m doing good.
That’s when
my phone vibrates with a text message.
It’s from my
wingman, “There’s a guy or boyfriend watching every move you make. Be careful!”
I didn’t get
it, I mean it didn’t make sense to me
that she had a guy with her because things were going so well, but I take the
tip and continue to plough on with the faith of Tsar Alexander the Great,
through the snow and mountains high with the intent of getting my money’s worth
out of this Moscow Mule I invested in.
Then it happens, I get the girls phone number, the first for me in the
City of Angels and once I hit enter after the last digit, I swear I could hear
the horns and kettle drums of Orff’s Carmina Burana in the air!
The game is
over and we start to leave and blonde, Hollywood girl motions over to the guy
who was looming in the corner. I turn
back to see, laughing and could tell… I was the joke. They just were using her blonde and my bulk
to score a seat at the bar.
I deleted
the number.
I couldn’t understand
why people would waste their time and energy.
I mean all she had to do was ask and I would’ve given up the seat, but
no… it was some silly game like in a bad 1980’s movie and any minute I was
waiting for Jon Cryer and Molly Ringwold to run past.
It was time
to call in an expert.
2004 was
when I moved here and that September a friend brought me to a theme bar that
mixes cowboy stuff with Sunset Strip rocker qualities. I don’t want to mention the name of the bar
or the person that use to work there because she is not only one of my best
friends, but she is my fitness guru and spiritual guide to the Boulevard of
Broken Dreams, better known as Hollywood.
We met
because my buddy brought me there so he could watch football and cover all his
bets while watching three games at once and me… I was there for the beer and
ribs, but when I saw the angel behind the bar with her half white sweatshirt,
torn jeans and strategically placed well inked tattoos, well… talking to her
sure beat the shit out of football. We
talked all through the game and after that I never missed a Sunday session of
three football games. My buddy watched
the games and I watched the bartender.
She and I talked about acting, growing up in New Jersey and life in
L.A. Eventually our bar room buddy
status went from weekly to daily.
She belonged
to Magic Johnson’s 24 Hour Fitness and after telling her I wanted to get
healthy and workout… I became a member and would see Magic there regularly as
well as Jay Mohr. It was my first touch
of Hollywood fitness.
My new
friend and I began to work out together.
Every day we’d start on the Stairmaster, and then we’d do floor exercises
and then back to the treadmill where she would hit the increase button when I
wasn’t looking. I’d have it on 2.5 and
she’d increase it to 3.0. I’d have it on
2.0 and she’d increase it to 3.0… do you see where this is going? Several times I did smack those little hands
only to get a smack back and a devil’s grin!
Then one day
she asked me to go hiking.
My idea of
hiking is chatting while walking around the lake in Roosevelt Park back in New
Jersey and then eating breakfast at a diner.
BAH HA HA HA
HAAAAA! I laugh at myself.
Hiking with
my Guru meant scaling Fryman Canyon while she timed us. Yes, the timer was clicked on her stop watch
and off we’d go, her in front of me constantly turning around and yelling. My dear, sweet, size zero, green eyed guru
had turned into the Drill Sargent from the movie FULL METAL JACKET and I was
now Private “Fat Body” Pyle and could not keep up! The sounds of her voice yelling, “Come on
Tom, faster!” still echoes through my mind and the canyons of the Santa Monica
mountain range.
We got to the top of the canyon and I looked
down into the San Fernando Valley to see my apartment building now miniscule,
like part of the a Christmas Village under the tree in December, my tiny
apartment where I so wanted to be under the covers looking for something to
watch on cable.
I took a
deep breath and surveyed the battlefield.
I know in my heart of heart, down the hill should be easy or easier, but
no… “COME ON TOM!!!” I hear her yell and we are off and running. The hard part about running downhill means
you have to lean backwards and tighten your butt cheeks! I understand the lean, but never understood
the butt cheek thing! I do it any way,
not because I want to, but because the Drill Sargent is screaming at me to do
it!
I do as much
as I can, but come to a stop because at some point on this MOUNTAIN, it’s
really what they call a hill, but where I come from we’d call it a MOUNTAIN, at
some point I stop and stare in awe because a Southwest Air 747 is making its
final approach for landing at Burbank Airport and I am standing eye level with
the plane’s pilot and passenger windows.
I can see people in the windows actually looking back at me when I feel
the WHISH… of air rushing past my right ear.
What the
hell?
It’s not the
jet or even a stray Santa Ana wind rushing through the canyons.
WHISH…. there
it goes again!
That’s when
she screams, “COME ON TOM! MOVE IT! LET’S GO!!!” and a rock whishes past my
head. She’s lost her mind and is now
throwing rocks at me to get me to move faster than I can humanly go, but I take
off running because the rocks are getting bigger and flying at me faster and
faster!
We come down
the back side of the canyon and hit the streets on a sloped hill, still
running. A man in perfect shape is
running up the hill opposite us when she yells, “LEAN BACK, TOM!!!”
“She wants
me to lean back,” I say to the man running the opposite way, “I want to die, I’m
trying to breathe and she wants me to lean back!”
The man
without blinking an eye fires back, “And tighten your butt cheeks!” he smiles
as we pass.
All I’m
thinking is… “Everyone is a comedienne!”
We make it
back to the car and I’m exhausted! She
opens a bottle of water and passes it over to me and says, “You did good!”
“Thanks!” I
say as I slug down the water.
“We’ll come
back tomorrow and we’ll do it faster!” she says as she hops in the driver side
of her car.
“TOMORROW!!! You’ll be here alone tomorrow because I’ll be
in the hospital!” I say as I slide into the passenger seat.
She just
laughs at me.
Despite the
rock throwing incident, befriending one of “Hollywood’s Hottest Bartenders” was
not just a great fitness thing for me, but she became my confidant and teacher
on how to operate in the game out here.
She
explained to me what happened with the Mule Drinking Girl and that should I
meet a woman in a bar out here and the meeting seems “Too good to be true” that
means it is and it’s a game some women do out here, as she said “Because they
can. Pretty girls in Hollywood get away
with a lot of things and acting mean is one of them. You be smarter and just shut them down when
they’re too good to be true!”
There were
lots of things she taught me, but the most important was that “Working out is a
lifestyle and part of your daily living cycle.”
Again, a major truth that I still live by today.
Then one
late night on the phone we both had an amazing bonding moment. We both know what it feels like to be judged
when you walk into the room and no one sees past your looks. Again, this was all new to me because I had never
experienced it before on the east coast.
The two of us really bonded over this because my Fitness Guru is
stunningly beautiful and has that electric personality that not only lights up
the room, but lights up your life. She
told me when she walks into a room “Men look at me and just want sex. They never see past my looks!” despite the
facts she had a Masters in Marketing and was a Mensa Student.
I had the
similar experience, people out here.
People would look at me when I entered the room and not want to talk to
me or think I was some kind of gross caricature they could make fun of despite
not knowing me. We bonded on this, in a
very BEAUTY AND THE BEAST moment.
We bonded on
lots of other things. Some too personal
to explain, but in the end the truth was we were both struggling with the same
insecurities and we were both viewed by our friends as being “strong as bars of
iron”, but without saying it we knew all we were doing was hiding it well that
we were insecure and needy like all the other sensitive artists out here.
All this
helped me in a big way…. Because it brought the whole L.A. game back down to a
level that I could understand and work around…. Don’t let them out psyche you
and if you think you’re ten feet tall, then you are! It’s all really just a matter of perception
and in the end the people that survive are usually the ones that don’t sell
their souls and believe in who they are, what they want and how they want to
live! In other words, what they say doesn’t
matter! Just “walk into the room like
you own the place” and in time… you will!
Weekly
Report for week of December 17, 2012
|
Daily Summary
|
||||||
|
Budget
|
Food
|
Exer.
|
Net
|
+/-
|
Weight
|
|
|
Dec-17-12
|
1,908
|
1,550
|
-
|
1,550
|
-358
|
-
|
|
Dec-18-12
|
1,908
|
1,187
|
-
|
1,187
|
-722
|
-
|
|
Dec-19-12
|
1,908
|
1,097
|
-
|
1,097
|
-811
|
-
|
|
Dec-20-12
|
1,878
|
1,160
|
-
|
1,160
|
-718
|
260.2
|
|
Dec-21-12
|
1,878
|
-
|
-
|
-
|
-
|
-
|
|
Dec-22-12
|
1,878
|
1,783
|
467
|
1,316
|
-562
|
-
|
|
Dec-23-12
|
1,878
|
1,664
|
-
|
1,664
|
-213
|
262.8
|
|
5,261 calories under for the week
|
||||||
|
467 exercise calories burned this week
|
||||||
|
Gained 2.6 pounds this week
|
||||||
|
Nutrients
|
|
|
Sug
(g)
|
|
|
Dec-17-12
|
45
|
|
Dec-18-12
|
66
|
|
Dec-19-12
|
54
|
|
Dec-20-12
|
20
|
|
Dec-21-12
|
-
|
|
Dec-22-12
|
14
|
|
Dec-23-12
|
19*
|
|
Totals
|
218
|
|
Daily
Avg
|
31.1
|
