This is the conclusion to my Moving To L.A. series. If you're just now checking in, start here.
The first movie I ever worked on wrapped shooting in June 2002, but I stayed on for post-production through August. The friendship I struck up with the Director in the spring had lasted but stayed platonic. He was in a serious long-term relationship, and I was in the midst of a summer fling. Because of this, we got to know one another in a non-flirty, no-strings-attached way.
At the end of July, Dr. Megan packed her bags and moved to the South to begin medical school. It wasn’t a decision she took lightly. She had briefly entertained the idea of staying in Los Angeles, but ultimately she knew where she was headed in life and it wasn’t up a television production ladder. In an epic roadtrip, we drove halfway across the country with our friend Cyndi and a Jeep full of stuff as part of an extended goodbye.
With the movie wrapped, and Dr. Megan gone, there was a vacancy in the personal assistant position for the Director and main talent. I agreed to fill in through the end of the year. I tease Dr. Megan that she had to endure all the hard parts of being a director/talent assistant, while I reaped all the rewards. The second half of the year was filled with press, travel, appearances, a premiere, and a #1 movie.
It was fun, but I was a crummy personal assistant. I would send the Director out to a meeting with no directions on how to get there, or worse, with the wrong directions. I would snip back at agents and publicists instead of pasting on a smile to represent the brand. I was, and still am, terrible at hand-holding another adult.
It had been over a year since I moved to L.A. My blonde hair was now black. My heart was scarred, but healed. I didn’t move to Los Angeles with the intention of staying forever, but I never had a plan. By the end of 2002, I had an ever-deepening crush on my boss and a sense of myself that I never had in Oklahoma.
I found that I connected in a layered way with this city of transplants, that I could breathe here. Nine years later, I still feel that way. In our chaotic life of narrow airplanes seats and car service and suitcase living, I always feel a tangible sense of relief when I land at LAX. My lungs expand in the California air. In a city of millions and millions, this place is mine.
I toast to the decision to become a Hollywood Housewife.