"Walk into a room like you own it!"

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!

 WEIGH IN WEIGHT - 262lbs    GOAL REACHED 2lbs lost!!!

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