Me My Baldwin And My Rolex

Is it wrong that when Alec Baldwin was on my flight from JFK to LAX the other day I tried to mentally communicate with him? I thought maybe he'd connect into my brainwaves and be waiting for me at baggage claim. He'd pass me his number on a small scrap piece of paper and say, “I noticed you when you boarded. You're lovely and I'd love to have dinner with you while you're in town.” After all he did offer me a half smile as I passed from first class to coach. It was either a smile or he tried to avert a yawn- not quite sure which. I admit it. I'm a dreamer and the dreamer in me says it was a smile. Now I know that has a negative connotation which conjures images of some pot smoking slacker who just hopes for a financial windfall to avoid having to get a socially acceptable type of job to pay the bills. But I'm not a pothead.

I tried the socially acceptable job thing, I was good at it too and it was lucrative but it came at a cost. I kept thinking, “Is this it? Have I reached the end of what I'm looking for and now just get to live in a fog of contentment that comes out of having achieved something?” Whether it's what you wanted to achieve or not in the first place at that point almost seems irrelevant. I can't live without a dream. I had made up my mind to quit. My whole team was falling apart anyway- one jumping ship after the other. I didn't because I didn't want to jump into the same water in a different pool. If I left, I was going to go back to being an artist-and at that point, it almost didn't even matter what kind of artist. I just new I had to start dreaming again. Dreaming of possibilities.

There are those that dream of the corner office. I dream of freedom from all that office holds hostage. So there I was last Thursday at 9am boarding American Airlines' flight 1. I thought at the very least my 3 shared seconds with Alec was a good omen of things to come. Perhaps my manager would call saying he got me an audition for a new series regular role on Brothers and Sisters. I am not completely out of touch with reality. If you'll notice I said audition, not that he got me the role just based on my headshot and the lavish praise he offered of my work. That would be delusional. But it's good to see the possibilities...that you still just might able to be what you wanted to be when you were 5....what you gave up for a fiancé who moved you to Paris but didn't want you to pursue your passions anymore. It's been a long journey getting back to this place.

And reality does smack you in the face every now and them. Once I left corporate, it seemed almost more difficult to even conceive of getting back into a youth dominated field where a quart of milk has a longer shelf life than the careers of most women. But without hope of possibility and without a dream to strive for I felt empty. So luckily back at corporate headquarters after all my friends left to dive into another pool, I took an extended lunch to hit up the Elie Tahari sample sale. I told the then marketing director who was with me, who had already given 2 weeks notice (or had been politely asked to leave by the end of the month-that part is still debatable) that this sample sale would be worth getting fired for. Well, I may have a future in fortune telling if all else fails because as soon as I got back, I was politely asked to leave as well. At that point, there were only 2 of us left on a team that used to be 10. It was obvious some restructuring was necessary. When asked if I wanted to be considered for the position of team manager- I declined. I told you I never dreamed of the corner office and I was afraid it would give me less freedom to concentrate on my creative life that existed outside of my bullpen. What could be better? I was planning on quitting anyway and now I'm getting unemployment. I owe a lot to Elie Tahari!

During the end of my tenure working for the man- who was technically a woman since it was a woman owned business, I wrote a screenplay. I came home every night and wrote. One Saturday morning, after putting the finishing touches on the first draft I took a “walk and coffee” near the Time Warner Center a few blocks away. “I'll just look,” I said to myself as I walked into Tourneau. Eventually, I optioned the script for a sum considerably less than the previously owned Rolex I walked out with that day. No, I certainly can't walk into Tourneau anymore while working for the New York State Department of Labor. I an not now and may never be wildly successful as an artist. But at least I am one. And, I can dream. Anyway, I already have a Rolex, I don't need another one.