Allow Me to Introduce Myself..

It definitely has been a while since the last time I posted something. But then again it seems that everytime I post something, I'm always prefixing it with that statement. Nonetheless, it has been a while since my last post. The reason being, I really feel that it's sort of a waste of time simply because who knows who (or if) anyone is really even reading this stuff. But lately, especially as the years go by and my years become more and more realized, I feel like I do have a lot to say but no one to talk to. I've even found myself laying in bed late at night thinking about these different things only to be kept up by this ongoing inner dialogue that I can't escape from. So I guess moreso than writing with the expectation that someone will read this, I've come to the conclusion that I need to start writing more for myself and for my own sanity.

With that said, I take this newfound perspective and, for the umpteenth time, I present another attempt to consistently blog. Will I prove to be successful this time around? Who knows. All I know is that the longer I'm in LA, the more I realize how lonely this career path I've chosen is and how easy it is to become detached from family and friends. You spend everyday, head to the ground, pounding the pavement, that by the time you look up again, there's no one around but you. It's no wonder why when people make it here they either become extremely grateful and/or crazy.

Last night I found myself thinking about how my 10th year high school reunion is this year and how far everyone in my class has come so far. Not just in status and accomplishments but moreso in our relationships. I thought about the people whom I was closest to coming out of high school and those who I'm closer to now and I was surprised to realize that, with the exception of a of a couple of people, those who I were closest to throughout high school, those whom I thought that would be a part of my life until the day I die, were barely even part of it anymore. Don't get me wrong, I love the friends I've made since leaving high school, even since leaving college, it's just that as I get older and I hear more and more people from high school getting married and having kids, I remember how I had this picture envisioned of how me and my closest friends from high school would sit around, old and fat, telling our children tales of how stupid we were growing up. I thought of the great times we had and wondered why we couldn't have that anymore? What was it about time and distance that made people, who were once inseparable, act like strangers?

I found myself thinking that if I were to die today, would people actually know me? And then my inner self recanted with a stern "What the fuck are you thinking about?! How depressing are you?!" But I do realize that when it comes those who I've known the longest, in some cases, our last moments together weren't exactly graceful, for the lack of a better word. Which brings me back to this blog. Along with needing another medium to vent, I do think it would be good to express who I am. Who I am to my friends of recent and who I've become for my friends of old.

So hello. My name is Conrad. Nice to meet you.


..let's just hope that I could stay consistent this time around..

Hollywood Confessions Part 8: The Dent of Hope

Let's be real, there was no way for me to possibly pay $1200 a month in rent (NOT including any of the utilities) AND my student loans with what I was taking home. My position at E! was an entry level position and I was being paid beans. If I had no loans then at least I would've been breaking even despite living paycheck to paycheck.

When my roommate left, I moved my stuff into the room and had initially planned to put an ad out in craigslist for someone to take the nook. However, after a couple of days of living by myself I began to change my mind. I loved it. It was so peaceful to come home and have a place to call my own.

Around the same time, coincidentally, a girl I knew through some friends at UW had contacted me via facebook to tell me that she was moving into LA in a couple of months because she had been accepted into a law school nearby. In a round about way she kinda joked and asked me if I needed a roommate to where I replied, "You know, actually, I do." That's when I decided that I'd just stick it out at my apartment and just pay the full rent for the two months until I moved out. I called my landlord in an attempt to negotiate and bring down the price but was only able to bring it down to $1100. Better than nothing I guess. Good thing was I was on a month to month lease and all I needed to do was give my landlord one month's notice and I was fine.

So those following two months I penny pinched like a mofo and looked everywhere in my neighborhood for a two bedroom apartment to move into. Since I would still have to ride my bike to work, I made sure that I limited my search to within a one mile radius from my office building. I also set the budget to around $1800 since splitting that with a roommate is manageable and worlds of a difference from paying $1200 by myself. On a side note, it was odd to find so many apartments in the Hollywood area where having a refrigerator was NOT included and more of a luxury.

After about a month of searching, I found a winner. It was a 2 bedroom/ 2.5 bathroom condo about a mile away from work that was going for $1600. It almost sounded too good to be true so I had to go check it out. It was just as advertised. It was nice, spacious, had all the major kitchen appliances, up stairs was carpeted and downstairs had all new hardwood floors. But what sold me right away and made me take it on the spot was that the unit included a washer dryer! TI knew that that amenity, in this part of LA no less, was so hard to find so there was no question on whether or not to take the apartment. To top it all off, since we'd be renting it directly from the owners, it was part of the Home Owners Association so cable, water, trash and sewage was all included and the only utility we had to pay for was gas and electric.

To our joy, we got the apartment and was moved in by the last week of June.

My first night sleeping there was crazy. I laid on my mattress on the floor of my unfurnished room and stared at a dent in the ceiling. I thought about the many things that used to stare at during my year and a half in LA right before I'd doze off. From the ceiling in both my Aunt's places, the wall in the Shady House, to the stars when I slept in my car, or the black dot on the curtain from where I laid in my nook. There are a lot of visuals that had become a representation of anxiety . But this dent was something different. This dent represented hope and for the first time in a long time, I can remember myself smiling before falling asleep.

It took me about a week to unpack the seven boxes I had been lugging around all this time and for the most part I had completely forgotten what I had even packed in those things. This would officially be the first time that I'd be cutting open the tape which had been sealing those boxes shut these past two years.

As I sorted through the boxes, it didn't cease to amaze me at how surreal it was. It's one thing to reminisce about or even to have someone tell you how much you've changed over a year or two, but the contents of those boxes were a tangible representation of who I was and what I cared about two years ago when I first moved down and to see what I had cared enough to save all this time was crazy to me. These boxes were time capsules and what made it surreal was that I almost didn't recognize the person who had packed all of this stuff. He was a stranger now and by the time I had consolidated everything I realized that I had gone from seven to two boxes. Call it what you want, maturity, I don't know, but there were a lot of things in those boxes that I didn't need or didn't find important anymore and looking through it just strengthened my yearning for the future and what it holds. This box represented my past and that dent represented my future, a future that I couldn't wait to get started. I don't think I completely changed. If you talk to me, you'll see that to my core, I'm still the same jokester that I've always been (maybe even moreso) but my priorities definitely have changed.

And that's where things are now. Two years after moving to LA, I finally have a stable living situation and a stable work situation. Even though I've been here a while, I feel that it's only now that I could concentrate on what I moved down here for. It's the first time I don't have to worry about where I'm gonna sleep and what I'm going to eat. It's just me and my dream. What is that you ask? Filmmaking. For the few that I've spoken to this about, and to those in wonderment, I hope to be the John Singleton (director of Boyz 'N the Hood, Higher Learning, Poetic Justice) for Pacific Islanders. I want to pave the way for Islanders and make it commonplace to see noncommercial, non-stereotypical stories being told in mainstream Hollywood films. As far as the acting thing, I enjoy that just as much as making films and I'm pushing that 100% as well. It's just a matter of time to which one takes off first because there's no way I'm giving up after what I've been through. It's definitely a hustle but I enjoy every second of it. Work at night, write/audition/go to meetings during the day but I know it will all be worth it, especially for my family. I look forward to the day that I could call my mom and tell her that she doesn't have to work anymore. I feel I've been through the worst and I've gotten through what would make most aspiring actors/filmmakers quit and go home and I'm fine. It's all just a matter of time.

So LET'S GO, 2010!! It's not about if, it's about WHEN!!

PS - Thanks to everyone who've supported me and helped me keep my sanity through these hard times. I love you all and I hope to make you proud someday.

Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope

Hollywood Confessions Part 7: So Close Yet So Far

Relative to what I had been going through thus far in good ole LA, the burden I had been on people with sleeping on their couches, the instability of sleeping in my car and wondering if and when I'd be able to eat again, this new place was a Godsend. Sure it still wasn't an ideal situation, but it was the first time I had a place that I could call my own. It was the first time I could walk through that front door, lay my head on my pillow and not worry about anything. I had been in LA for about 13 months and this was going to be my 7th place of "residency", counting my wonderful "four star hotel".

The place wasn't too shabby. It was a little old fashioned, dark hardwood floors, which growing up in Hawai'i, it wasn't something I was used to. It looked like it was probably built in the 40's, maybe the 50's, and definitely smelled like it. The parking situation was terrible, although, I was lucky since I worked graveyard and the street was relatively clear by the time I got home. As "stable" as things were starting to be, I still didn't unpack any of my boxes and continued to live out of my suitcase to prevent myself from "settling" into that situation.

The girl I moved in with was cool. She was an aspiring actress in her early 30s and alternated between two part time day jobs. In terms of our schedule, things worked out pretty well. Since I worked graveyard, by the time I came home, she was getting ready to leave for work and after a while, it almost felt that I had the place to myself. If we were every home at the same time, she stayed in her room and I still pretty much had the whole place to myself, living room and kitchen included.

Despite schedule convenience, sleep was definitely still a tough thing to get accomplished. I'm one of those guys that needs pitch darkness to fall asleep and needless to say, having the sunlight seep into the living room and invade the confines of my nook contributed in no way to the cause. Add to the fact that I'm a light sleeper and my roommate wasn't exactly the quietest person in the world, ie. she was one of those people who yelled into the phone when she spoke and walked heavily, I definitely was not a happy, or sleeping, camper.

My lack of sleep was slowly catching up to me as I was still trying to juggle two full time jobs, one at Gamestop and one at E! Entertainment. It started to take its toll as I began attempts to squeeze in small half hour naps in between my shifts. I remember started to get headaches and my eyes began twitching a lot. I began to show up late to Gamestop and even had a couple instances where I was scheduled to open the store alone, only to show up half an hour late with customers already waiting at the front door. The main store manager was cool but after the third or fourth time, he was feeling pressure from his higher ups and warned me that I should put in my two weeks notice before the District Manager made it official to fire me. So that's what I did so as not to have it on my record that I was fired from a job.

So now I was down to only one full time job and as much I hated to leave Gamestop, I felt much relief and hope in the anticipation of getting more time to sleep. It was sad to me because as sad as it sounds, Gamestop was there for me during such a hard time of my life. It was like my safe haven amongst a tough job market. It gave me a chance when no other job would and more importantly it came at a time when I needed the most help. The people I met there provided me with the sanity I needed with all the instability I was facing. It was hand that fed me when I was starving and I was sad to see it go. But, I knew it was time to move on and embrace working at E!.

So my new weekday schedule pretty much went like this: work from 11pm-8am, get home around 8:15am, my roommate left for work around 9am, I'd fall asleep around 12:30-1pm, and my roommate would come home around 4pm, waking me up to where I'd toss and turn until it was time leave for work around 10:30pm. So yeah, definitely there wasn't much sleep going on despite having only one job.

About a couple months into the move, my good ole car poked its head back into the forefront as if refusing to be ignored. Due to its incredible cost, I still wasn't able to switch out the aftermarket racing parts in the engine which would've allow me to register my car and thus, the tags on my car inevitably expired. I tried as much as I could to drive as little as I could and when I did, my eyes were constantly on the rear view mirror.

One Saturday morning, I awoke as I always did, got ready as I always have, brushed my teeth as I had done many times before and headed out the door. As I neared the spot on the street where I had parallel parked my car, my heart sank as I realized that in its place was a car that I didn't recognize. Instantly, I knew that what was going on and that my car had been towed. Just to make sure I called the police to report a "stolen car". They confirmed it being impounded and gave me the information to recover it. I headed over to the towing office and was informed that to re-register the car, along with all the towing and holding fees, it would cost me over $3000 just to get the car back. That $3000 doesn't count the amount it would cost to change out the engine parts which the grand total for everything would amount to nearly $10,000!

Screw that!

Thanks, but no thanks. And as much as my car was there for me when I most needed a place to stay, it was definitely more of a burden than a blessing and it was time to finally say goodbye to it. I bought the damn thing for $1100 and with the amount of money I was putting into it, I might as well have gotten and brand new car. Plus, since I wasn't working at Gamestop anymore, I didn't have drive the 40minutes to get there and with E! a couple of blocks away, the need for a car was minimal.

So I decided to surrender my car and with the help of my friend Joe, I emptied it out and said goodbye. A couple of days later, I bought myself a bike and got familiar with the public transportation system, which is actually pretty reliable if you stay within the greater LA area.

So from then on, I rode my bike to and from work and used the bus/subway to get to auditions and meetings. Slowly but surely, I was finally able to eat good and had the leeway to start saving money to consistently keep up with my student loans. Unfortunately, since I had no car, I was unable to meet up with friends without depending on someone for a ride. But I didn't mind, it was either pay now and play later or play now and pay later.

With the turn of the new year, things were looking better in terms of money. I still was getting payed shit, but having to pay $500 out of $1200 rent a month definitely had its perks. I was still living paycheck to paycheck and barely getting by, however, it was a world of difference from my time in the Shady House. Since that time, I had gotten used to living frugally and budgeting every penny I spent but at least now I was doing it with a steady income and was able to actually take care of my bills before being broke as a joke as opposed to having no income with my bills piling up and being broke as a joke. My body was getting used to 3-4 hours of sleep so that was becoming less of a problem and I calculated that within several more months of "saving", I'd have taken care a lot of my outstanding debt and would be able to save enough money to get my own place and manage all my bills relatively comfortably albeit still living paycheck to paycheck.

As March rolled around, I guess I may have been getting a bit too "content" in my situation, because life, with all her quirkiness, decided to send me yet another curve-ball. As I sat on my couch, watching a movie on my netflix, my roommate came into the living room and threw a wrench in my whole plan to save money.

"I'm moving into a new place next week," she told me.

And with that one sentence, I envisioned the little money that I had saved up until that point go down the drain as I would now be forced to somehow take on the task of paying $1200 rent along with my already dampering bills.


Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope

Hollywood Confessions Part 6: Do Unto Others...

It was definitely a double-edged sword staying in my little "four star hotel". I finally had my own space and the opportunity to rest without being bothered, but at the same time, come on, I was sleeping in my frickin car!

As little sleep as I got at my aunt's, I got even less in my new four star hotel. I'm one of those people who stretches out when I sleep so it was incredibly uncomfortable (and insanely hot) thus making it nearly impossible to get any sort of rest. Normally, I'd just lay in my driver's seat, close my eyes for about half an hour and countdown the time until my next shift. It was kinda like when you hit the snooze button and close your eyes; I didn't really sleep but more-so was resting with my eyes closed.

On a good day, in terms of real, actual sleep, I'd catch about an hour or so in E!'s parking structure and an hour or so in the parking structure at the mall where Gamestop was located. Anything more than that, I'd consider as luck and a blessing. Needless to say, by the end of the first week, my body had gotten accustomed to running on a couple hours of sleep and I was officially sick of Vienna Sausage, bread and ketchup.

The whole situation wasn't as bad as it should've been given that I was working 80hrs a week so I didn't have much time to really sit around and fully experience or realize the homelessness. Oddly enough, since I wasn't staying with my aunt and didn't have to commute two hours to work everyday, sleeping in my car provided a weird sense of relief and stability.

About a week and a half into my stay at Chateau de Honda, I found out that they were hiring more people at E!. A friend of mine from college, James, was looking for a new job so I called him to give him the heads up of the job opening. We caught up for a while and in the process I briefly mentioned my ongoing living situation. Upon hearing of it, he offered to let me crash on his couch for a while. I told him that would awesome and he said he just had to run it by his fiance. She approved and following day, I was crashing on James' couch in Culver City.

That was probably the most comfortable "bed" I've had since I moved down to LA and the only problem, if you could even call it a problem, in living there was that I had to check in with the a guard at the gate everyday.

My schedule remained the same and was pretty much the only psychotic constant I had left in my life to really sort out. But now I had two full-time jobs and given that it was only a couple of months prior that I didn't even have a dollar to my name, I couldn't complain.

James and his fiance, Jenna, were more than hospitable but given my past experiences as being a major burden when living with others, I was extra cautious and had the intention of being out of there as soon as possible. My first night, or should I say "day", sleeping there, I remember it being so comfortable, so relaxing, so undisturbed that I was speechless. It's like I wanted to cry. I couldn't remember the last time I had a night of stress free, undisturbed sleep.

I had been talking with my sister in recent months and the plan was for her to move up and we were going to find a place to live together. All I had to do was stay with James, save money, and in a month or so, my sister would move up and I would finally have my own place.

Going into their place, my student loans were overwhelming to say the least and I had set up some payment plans to try to catch up with them, cleaning me out for most of my paycheck off the bat.

In the first week there, I had gone to the supermarket to finally buy some real food. I was planning on cooking dinner for James and Jenna as a thank you for letting me crash at their place. After going through the checkout, I swiped my debit card and to my surprise, it got declined and said that I didn't have any funds in my account. WTF?!

I told the cashier that I was going to go grab some cash and come back. Not knowing what I was going to do, I ran to my car to grab my checkbook. I was thinking that I could write a check and not have to worry about it since I was getting paid that Friday. When I got back into the supermarket, I noticed that they had put my cart full of food near the exit and no one was watching it. I walked by it and I couldn't help but think how easy it would be to just walk out with the cart since no one was even watching it. Had this happened during the month I was at the Shady House, I honestly would've walked out with that cart. It's crazy the things you're willing to do to survive when you have no other choice and your back is up against the wall. As soon as I thought that, a security guard came out of nowhere, stood by the exit and looked straight at me as if he knew what I was thinking.

Screw it. I knew I was getting paid that Friday so I left the grocery store and when back to James' house. I called my bank and it turned out that there was an unauthorized payment that went through to me student loans and not only did they continue to charge a payment that I had canceled, but they had double charged me on it. I had to close that account and open a new one, which was so irritating and such a hassle to me.

I forget how long I stayed at James and Jenna's place. I'm thinking I was there between one and two months and left either in July or August. I remember, despite my working hours, still feeling like a bum because I was laying around trying to sleep during the day. I never went out or did any unnecessary spending in hopes of moving in with my sister soon.

That's when my sister called me and told me that the plan of her moving up had fallen through because my father had been dipping into the money that she had been saving from work. Turns out that he had opened the account for her and still had access to it since he had been depositing her share of the child support from my parent's divorce settlement. Apparently, my sister said he had taken way more than she expected, her account went from nearly 4grand to less than 1grand and he justified it by saying that since he had been depositing money every month, technically that money is still his. Yeah, I don't know about that. But this was just one of the many issues that is going on back home which is breaking my heart and driving me to make a better life for my family.

So needless to say, in a matter of days, my sister was far from moving up with me. Then, if that wasn't enough, I find out that James' family is flying into town and is planning on staying with him and Jenna for a couple of weeks. So, of course, there wouldn't be any room for me.

It was cool though. They gave me enough time to save up some money and after having bounced from place to place, having lived in 6 different places, and being homeless within that first year of being in LA, James and Jenna were definitely a breath of fresh air and I owe them my life.

The amazing thing is that despite us all going to UW together, I never met Jenna OR really hungout with James until I moved in with them. I knew OF James because he was on the football team, he also was a film major (although it was weird that I don't remember having any classes with him..but I hardly went to class anyways so that makes sense), and we pretty much had the same group of friends. But we never really directly hung out with each other. We had been in contact online and had been planning on doing some film projects together but prior to me moving to LA, we never really knew each other. So it was such a blessing for him to open up his doors to me and allow me to crash on his couch. We got closer when I moved in and I thank them for everything they did for me. They have the hugest hearts and are the nicest people I've met in a long time. They took me in when my own family was throwing me to the curb and they helped me when I really needed it the most. I don't even know how I'm ever going to repay them and I can't thank them enough from the bottom of my heart .

The week before their family flew in, I found a place a couple blocks from work. For $500 a month, I'd be sharing a one bedroom apartment with a girl. I'd be sleeping in a tiny curtained off breakfast nook. This nook was so small that when I placed my queen sized mattress on the floor, all four sides of it was touching the wall. It felt like I was sleeping in a huge canopy bed! Haha! But it was MY canopy bed!

It took me a couple of days to get my stuff out of storage and into the apartment and when I finally got settled in, I rejoiced at my first step, although it being a baby step, towards stability in my living situation. Little did I know that, although I had my first stable living situation since moving to LA over a year prior, my nights of stress free, undisturbed sleep was far from over.


Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope

Hollywood Confessions Part 5: Four Star Hotel

In the beginning the opportunity was a breath of fresh air. February was spent in the Shady House, March and April was spent at Brooklyn's transition spot, and now, with May just around the corner, my mom's sister was offering me to stay at the house she just bought in Long Beach...for free. Obviously, I'd pull my weight with the house chores and with it being a bit of a fixer-upper, I was gonna do my share in that sense as well. I also agreed to split the utilities with her so it technically wasn't "free" but it was rent free, and with me finally having a steady income at Gamestop, it couldn't come at a more opportune time. I finally had my own room again and even though I was leaving Brooklyn's house, which was a 10 minute drive from work, to move into a place where I had to leave 2 hours in advance just to get there on time, for the first time I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

"You can stay here until you save up enough money to get your own place," my aunt had told me. So after doing the math, I figured since I'd be saving all my money, I could be out of her place in four months, which was September. "Perfect," I thought excitedly, "My birthday present to myself would be my own place!" Which meant, absolutely no unnecessary expenses.

So I left Brooklyn's house, which, oddly enough, I found to be a little sad. There were five of us who had moved there from the Shady House and because we had gone through so much crap in the past three months together, like soldiers at war, we had formed a bond. We had shared stories, laughed, and ate together like a family. The guy whom I shared a room with was, Foster, a guy in his thirties who had recently moved from the east coast to also pursue a career in film. We had spent a lot of hours talking about our goals in the industry and how we're not gonna stop until we accomplish them. Dauntez, Brooklyn's brother, was there as well. He was like the big brother of the house: always crackin people up and cooking for us. Late one night when we were high and hungry, we concocted this burger we called a "Juicy Lucy" which was two hamburger patties cooked together with the cheese INSIDE so as to create something similar to a jelly donut. Lemme tell you, that thing was the bomb! Tia was a struggling masseuse. And Paul worked in construction. We were all struggling in our own way and somehow managed to stay afloat.

Right before I walked out the front door for the last time as a resident, we said our goodbyes and it felt like I was a child leaving an orphanage. I was happy to finally find a "home" and they were happy for me that I was moving on to "bigger and better things". I knew I'd have to come back and make one more trip for the rest of my stuff so it wasn't too bad. As I walked out, I gave Foster daps, "I'll see you on other side, braddah!" I told him. He laughed and replied with a "I'll see you on the red carpet." And that was that. I jumped in my car and drove the 2+ hours through LA traffic from the San Fernando Valley down to Long Beach.

By the time I got to my aunt's house, the sun was down and it was almost 8pm. I began unloading my car, placing the eight boxes in the corner of my new room. The house was empty since all my aunt's stuff was still in storage and that made it much easier transporting the boxes through the living room. As I began pumping my queen size air mattress in my room, I could see that my aunt was also sleeping on a mattress on the floor. She had moved out of her dogsitter's house earlier than she had expected on account of my being there and I knew that it bothered her. Why? I figured she'd be glad to have me around since she now had someone to help her move into her place.

To give you an idea of how she is, growing up, my cousins and I would tease her because whenever we'd eat something, she would be the first to comment, "Eww! Do you know how many calories is in that?! Why are you eating that?! You're gonna get fat!" She's my mom's older sister and it not that she's completely vain but it was no secret that she loved her material goods. I mean, what normal person has a Landrover AND a BMW. Is that really necessary?

She was born in the Philippines but, along with my mother and the rest of their siblings, was raised in Wailua, HI. She was Ms. Hawai'i Filipina back in the day and moved up to the states to pursue a career in entertainment. Needless to say, things didn't pan out since she is now a flight attendant. She had just gone through her umpteenth divorce and had moved back down to Long Beach after staying with her husband in Oregon for I don't even know how long. I wasn't sure why her marriages ended, but after living wither her, I had an idea. Up to that point, all I heard, was that her and her husbands fought a lot because she would talk down to them like they were children. Great. When I told my mom that I was moving in with her, she even warned me, "Are you SURE you want to live with your aunty?"

"I have to," I told her. "It's the only way I'll be able to save money for my own place." Then I added, "It can't be THAT bad." Man, was I gonna eat my own words.

I finally finished pumping my air mattress and as I laid on it, letting out the right amount of air to make it nice and soft, my phone rang. It was my sister and we had been talking a lot lately, planning out her move up to the mainland. I got up to close the door since it was getting late. As soon as the door clicked close I heard my aunt yell from her room, "What are you doing?! Why are you closing the door?!"

What the hell?

I opened the door to see her standing in the hallway looking at me. "Why are you closing the door?!" she repeated. "What are you hiding?!"

"I'm not hiding anything," I replied in complete confusion. "I'm talking to Chelsie."

"Well you don't need the door closed to talk on the phone," she snapped.

"Relax, aunty," I told her. I kind of chuckled to lighten the mood as I closed the door again. "What the fuck was I getting myself into," I thought as I laid back down on my air mattress.

After my phone conversation was over, I opened the door again to see my aunt going to the bathroom, which was right in between both of our rooms. "I'm going to bed," she said to me on her way in. "Me too," I replied. I grabbed my toiletry pouch from my bag and laid on my mattress, waiting for her to finish up in the bathroom.

As I was laying down, I couldn't help but notice that as she brushed her teeth, she kept glaring at me out of the side of her eye. I ignored it and, after she was finished, I grabbed my toiletry bag and made my way into the bathroom. After passing me on her way out, she turned back towards me and commented, "Oh, so you ARE going to brush your teeth." I literally didn't know what to say to that.

So I got ready for bed, went to my room and, again, I closed my door to again hear, "Why are you closing the door?! What are you hiding?!"

I opened the door and saw her standing there. "I'm going to sleep," I tell her. "And when I sleep, I have the door closed."

"Well, you don't need the door closed when you sleep," she snapped. "I don't close the door when I sleep!" I was completely confused. "Well, I do," I said and closed the door. Minutes later, as I laid on my mattress trying to fall asleep, I couldn't stop thinking how I've barely been there for three hours and I already immediately regretted my decision.

The next morning I woke up a little earlier than I expected to. As I laid there trying to catch another half hour of sleep, the door flies open and my aunt barges into the room, looking around as if trying to catch me in the middle of something. She takes a couple steps into the room and begins talking, "OK. We're going to have to go over some ground rules." Tired and confused I just groaned back at her.

"You're going to have to pull your own weight and help me around the house," she said. "I'm helping you out so that you can get back on your feet, so I want you to save all your money and not blow it on stupid things."

"Yeah," I replied half asleep. "I know. We already talked about this."

"OK," she said. "I'm going to work." And she left.

"How unnecessary was that?!", I thought after she left the room. I got up and figured it was time to get ready for work since it was almost 7am and if I wanted to be at work by 930am, I had to leave before 730.

That was my schedule and despite spending a lot of time on the road, it wasn't bad at all. If I opened the store, I left Long Beach by 730am, got there at 930am, got off at 630pm, got back into Long Beach at around 9pm, went to the gym, got to my aunt's house by 11pm and went to sleep. If I closed the store, I didn't get leave work until 930 so I didn't get out of the gym and back to my aunt's place till around 1am. Also, add to that the hour that I spent at the Apple store checking my emails and sending out my resume.

My first week there, the place was completely unfurnished, we didn't even have a fridge. So there really wasn't anything to "help" around the house with other than clean the debris from the bathroom that was being remodeled. Nothing was wrong with the original bathroom, but my aunt was the type who felt it was necessary to drop several thousand dollars on a new bathroom that she "designed herself".

Then slowly but surely, we began picking up her furniture from storage and brought it to the house, and before we knew it, by the end of the second week, the bathroom was ready and we were living in a fully furnished home, fridge and everything. "Finally," I thought. "I didn't have shower at 24 Hour Fitness anymore!"

That's when I realized how nit-picky she really was. The first time I took a shower in her bathroom, she got upset because upon finishing my shower, I failed to completely clean and wipe dry the tub and shower walls. She expected this to be done after every usage. Crazy, yes, I know, but to her that was normal and anyone who didn't meticulously scrub their shower after each use was a messy savage to her. I'm not even gonna get into the argument we had over me using my own towel to dry my feet vs. her the specially made "foot towel".

Then a couple of days later, she came into the kitchen as I poured myself a glass of orange juice. I took a sip of the juice, placed it on the counter and walked away to put the carton of juice back into the fridge. "Don't be a slob! I'm not cleaning up after you!" I hear her snap, referencing the glass of juice I just put down mere seconds ago.

On another day, when she was telling me she was going to be out of town a couple of days for work, she made sure to add, "I don't want you to throw any house parties while I'm gone and try not to tear up the bathroom either!", referring to the one time I used the shower and failed to scrub it down and wipe it dry after I used it.

"What are you even talking about?", I asked sarcastically, a question that I had become accustomed to saying to her during my first two weeks there.

"I saw how you lived in Washington," she remarked. "There was so much.....dust!"

Dust?! "First of all," I told her, "You came on like a Wednesday, in the middle of finals week. I had more important stuff to worry about than dust. Secondly," I continued, "my cleaning day is Sundays."

"Your 'cleaning day'?!", she scoffed.

"Yeah," I replied. "Of course I clean up after myself and maintain the apartment during the week, but I vacuum, scrub and do all that big tedious stuff on Sundays."

"Just one day a week?! You need to do that everyday! Geez, I blame your mother on the way you turned out!"

"Yes, one day a week. And if you need to do it everyday, then you have OCD."

That pissed her off. It made me laugh inside.

"I don't have OCD! It's just called being clean!"

Then what she said next made me understand exactly the type of person she was, "I'm accustomed to flying all over the place and staying in four star hotels so I expect to feel like I'm living in a four star hotel!"

"Whatever," was all I could say to that. She went on to say how I too cocky for my own good, I have a chip on my shoulder and again on how she blamed my mother for how I turned out. To where I thanked her, because hey, I'm the first person in our family to go to college and I think I turned out to be a pretty damn good guy. To me, saying that is a compliment to what a great job she did.

But that's the way she was. She doesn't understand what it is to truly work hard towards something versus just working hard. During one conversation, she laughed and said my answer was stupid when we were talking about my pursuits in the film industry and she asked how long I was gonna give it and what my backup plan was. I had told her, "I don't have a backup plan. I'm either gonna make it, or I'm gonna make it because to me, if you're even thinking about a backup plan, you've already given up on your main plan."

"But how long have you been here? And what have you done so far?"

I told her if that's her attitude then it's no wonder why she didn't make anything happen in this industry. To where she got all defensive, bragging that she was a stand-in for one of the actresses on Magnum P.I. as if that's an impressive high point of a career in entertainment. Frick, I stood in for Steve Carell my first month in LA but I don't think, by any means, that that's brag-worthy! Finally, to shut her up, I reminded her that I have a degree, so if worse comes to worst, I have that to fall back on. Which she remarked with a "That's not good enough!" To where I wondered how twisted she was to say that's not good enough. My back up plan is most people's primary plan: go to college, get a degree, and get a job. Not good enough? She wishes she had my backup plan as even an option.

Needless to say, her Negative Nancy attitude was taking its toll and I dreaded walking through that front door. I had been trying to get a second job, partly because I needed the extra cash, but mostly because I didn't want to be in that house. I even tried my hand at promoting at a club in downtown LA called the Conga Room, to where I quickly realized how much I was over that scene and I ended up quitting after one week. My mom had been calling me, complaining that my aunt had been calling her to complain about me. To my aunt, I was this completely out of control, savage of a delinquent and all the while, my mom was telling me, "I told you she's not an easy woman to live with."

In the middle of that May, my friends Donny and Ane were getting married in Seattle and I had been planning on flying up for it. I still hadn't bought my ticket since up until that point everything had been so crazy for me financially and in terms of my living situation. But with the incredibly stressful and crazy occurrences happening those first two weeks, I felt I NEEDED a vacation. My first paycheck since moving into my aunt's was set to come in and I figured since I'd be pocketing all the money from there on out, I could afford the $200 plane ticket up to Seattle.

Payday came and went and my account still received no funds. A couple days later, I get another note in the mail saying that, like my tax return, my paycheck was taken to be put towards my student loans and I wasn't going to see a cent of that paycheck either! What the hell?!

Glad that at least I have a roof over my head, despite as bad as it may be, I called Donny to tell him that unfortunately I won't be flying up for the wedding.

Later on that week, I get a call from E! Entertainment, a place I had been applying for almost every month since I graduated in 2006. I got an interview for an entry level position, nailed it, and practically started right away. Then a couple of days after that, about a week after I spoke to Donny on the phone, he calls me to tell me that he and a bunch of our friends in Seattle had pitched in to buy me a plane ticket to come up to the wedding. "Don't even argue, Conrad," he said. "We already bought it, so you have to come."

Man, I have some pretty awesome friends.

So that following weekend, I went up to Seattle and it was the best time I've had in a long time. I got to see everyone again and so much stress and worry was gone. Being back up there with everyone really made me realize how lonely I was in LA. Sunday afternoon came with a quickness and I was incredibly sad to go back to the "real world".

My new schedule was pretty crazy. I was now working two full time jobs and still had to worry about my two hour, one way commute. My shift at E! was a graveyard shift so I was working there everyday from 11pm to 8am. Then depending on whether or not I was opening or closing, I would either leave Gamesetop and go straight to E! or finish at E! then go to open the store right after. Despite averaging about 3-4 hours of sleep a day, my aunt was still calling my mom to complain about me "bumming around the house", coming back to "only sleep" and then heading out right away.

The last straw came when I got back from Seattle. Since I moved in, my aunt has been talking about a specific day she wanted me to keep open to watch her dog, Gracie. However, for some reason, she felt it necessary to bring it up every other day. The irritating thing was whenever we talked about it, it didn't feel like she was reminding me, but instead it was if we were having the conversation for the first time.

"What are you doing on Friday the 22nd?"

"Aren't I watching your dog?"

"OK, yeah. I was just wondering if you were free."

"We already talked about this. I told you I would."

"Well, I can't keep track of your schedule!"

"What are you even talking about?"

Rinse and repeat that conversation every other day for the first two weeks.

The week of the impending dog sitting day comes and that conversation goes from every other day to EVERY FRICKIN DAY. My three hour naps are interrupted by calls asking "What are you doing this Friday?"

That Thursday, I tried to get as much sleep as possible knowing that I had a long 24hrs ahead of me. I'd be closing the store (1pm-930pm), going straight to E! (11pm-800am), then get back to my aunt's house around 9am, Friday morning, to watch her dog, which apparently is the only dog in the nation that needs to be walked every three hours.

Did I get much sleep that Thursday, you ask? Not with the millions of texts I received asking "What are you doing tomorrow?" Good fricken goodness. So when I left for work that Thursday afternoon, I had been up since Wednesday morning and wasn't going to sleep again until Friday night.

I worked my shift at Gamestop, dragged my ass to E!, and zombied my way through the night and into the morning. Around 7am I receive another text from her, "So what? Are you too drunk to watch Gracie today?"

WTF?!

Does she not believe that I'm out working every night? Does she think that I'm out partying or something?

So at that point, I figured that if she didn't understand after talking about it every damn day, then there was nothing I could text her back to understand it within that hour. So I finish my shift, head back to her place, and within an hour, I walk through her front door to see her standing there, her phone in hand, pissed off.

"Why didn't you answer my text?!"

"We had this talked about this already! What could I say an hour ago that would convince you, that I already didn't say a zillion times already?!"

"You know, I was just about to call in sick because you didn't answer me."

"I told you I was gonna watch her."

"Well, I don't know that! I don't know if I could trust you! I know you went to Seattle and the last time I wanted you to watch Gracie, you bailed on me!"

"I bailed on you?! You mean that time when I HAD to court to take care of my ticket and you asked me the day before?!"

"I don't think this is working out."

All I could do was laugh and go to my room. This woman is crazy and if she was treating me half as bad as she treated her husbands, then there was no wonder why she had been divorced so many times. I called my mom and she was upset, "Why the hell does she expect you to take off of work to watch her stupid dog?! You're there to work and save money so that you could get on your feet! That's your priority!"

My aunt left that weekend and that gave me a lot of time to cool down and think of my next move. I thought about my four month plan and found it funny that I couldn't even stand one month with that woman. I was seriously debating on being out of the house before she came back that Monday. But where would I go? I had barely been over two weeks and I only had a couple hundred dollars saved up.

I had set up a payment plan with the student loan people so I was at least getting my next Gamestop paycheck. A week following that, would be my first E! paycheck. However, I still had only a couple hundred dollars in my account until then so the chances of me moving into another place and paying for rent was slim to none.

That Monday morning, my aunt came back home. She barged into my room again (something that I had gotten used to being that she did it every morning to tell me she's going to work), but this time it was to tell me that it wasn't working out and that she wanted me out by the end of the month (which was that Sunday), giving me six days. Expecting this, and being incredibly tired, my yes came out as more of a groan. At least I had six days instead of four, I joked to myself. I laid there thinking about my next move. Ahh, the chess game of life.

Throughout that following week, I had rented storage space down the street from Gamestop and I had been dropping my things off on my way to work. By that weekend, all my stuff was in storage, my clothes were in my back seat, and I still had no place to move to. She asked me if I were moving in with a friend and I just told her "Yeah" to end the conversation. She asked if I needed help moving and I chuckled. Funny how people are quicker to help you leave then stay.

I decided to leave Saturday instead of waiting until Sunday. I just needed to get out as soon as possible. Despite, of how everything turned out, I thanked her and left. My first stop after leaving her house was Target. I bought a huge pack of bottled water, tons of cans of Vienna sausage, several loaves of bread, and a couple bottles of ketchup and BBQ sauce.

Across from the Target was a 24 Hour Fitness. I drove there, found a parking spot way in the back, cracked open a Vienna sausage can, drained the juice out my window, threw it on a loaf of bread and added some BBQ sauce. I sat in my drivers seat and enjoyed my dinner, a dinner that I'd be enjoying for weeks to come. My car was facing Target and I watched as happy families and friends walked in and out of the store to go back to their lovely homes. After my "meal", I reclined my chair, cracked the window open and looked up at the stars. What a beautiful view from what was to be my living room, my dining room, and my bedroom for the next couple of weeks. It would be something that I'd grow "accustomed" to. This would be MY four star hotel.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep, and oddly enough, it was the happiest, and most peaceful sleep I had all month.

Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope

Hollywood Confessions Part 4: False Salvation

I honestly don't know how long I sat in my car, thinking what I was going to do next. I reclined my chair as far as it could go, which was probably about an inch (I still had four huge boxes in my backseat), and closed my eyes. My car shook with every car that sped by and I remember, for a split second, thinking how I wouldn't care, and kind of hoped, if one of those cars smashed into mine. But then I thought of the one thing that drives me and pushes me to succeed and endure all the crap that I've been going through: my family.

Everything I'm doing is in hopes to make a better life for them. To give a little background, 50% of marriages end in divorce and my parents were no exception, ending theirs my sophomore year in college. When it ended, my mother just wanted to get away so she opted for the quick and easy settlement: biweekly custody of the kids and not taking half. Needless to say, my mother's stubbornness turned out to be a good deal for my father. Shitty thing is, my parents weren't making much money in the first place, so on her own, I knew my mom was going to have a hard time. We didn't live in poverty, but we weren't rich either. Growing up, I remember on rare special occasions, we'd eat out at Sizzlers and that was always so exciting and upscale to me because to me, that was my idea of "fine dining". I remember how surprised I was when I went to college, met my first Punahou person, and them teasing me, saying "YOU like Sizzlers?!" Yes, dick! Sizzlers is the bomb! In fact, when I got into the University of Washington, my family got into a huge argument because my dad didn't want me to go since there would be no way to pay for it, while my mother thought otherwise. I'd be the first person in my family to go to college and my mother said she'd be willing to cosign on student loans if that's what we had to do to get me there.

After the divorce, she had to get two jobs just to make ends meat and still wasn't making it and eventually she had to move in with my grandmother. I had always hated when people attribute their comfortable upbringing to "Because my parent's work hard" as if the rest of our parents didn't, but at that point, I swear, if I heard anyone say that again, I was going to punch them in the esophagus. What made it worse, from what I was hearing from my siblings, my father wasn't helping in paying for clothes, school supplies, etc. and left it up to my mom to take care of. But to me, the worst of all, was that since the time I moved down to Cali, my income had been so inconsistent that I wasn't able to keep up with my student loan payments. So now, since my mom had cosigned on them, they were calling her, and these late payments were affecting her credit. On numerous occasions, she had depleted her savings to pay MY student loans, forcing her, for a while, to live off of credit cards. The loans that I'M supposed to be paying back, SHE was paying for and I felt incredibly guilty, ashamed, and useless. She even had to forgo her plans of going back to school to take night classes in hopes increasing her income just so that she could find a third job because my sorry ass wasn't making any money.

As for my dad, he retired from the Navy around 2002-2003 and I never really knew what he did after that. In fact, to this day, I don't know what he does. We were never really close and our relationship is your typical as I got older, we grew apart (even though there wasn't much to grow apart from). He was one of those fathers that was a provider and that's how he showed his love. You never really got the affection or approval, but him providing was his way to show that he cared. And that's all he knew.

One of my most dominant memories with him, however, was when we'd play chess. He taught me how to play the game when I was really young, probably around Kindergarten or in the 1st grade. I became obsessed with it and I'd ask him to play every night. There was something about seeing your plan come to fruition over time and through a series of small moves that amazed me. I loved seeing the other person's reaction when you hit them with a good counter move or one of those moves that made them say, "I didn't see that." It felt as if the better I got, the more psychic I became. In many ways, I get my outlook on life through this game. That's why if you've been around me long enough, you've probably heard me say something like "Nah, no worries. Can." or "Got this. No worries." or something a kin to that to an otherwise impossible feat. I guess to some it's being cocky and often times in jokes and fun, but mostly it's because I honestly feel that you can accomplish anything as long as you take the necessary little steps towards your goal. It's all about the little things. One thing that I tell my siblings is that you don't set out to build the best and greatest wall ever because it's easy to lose sight of something that big. Instead, set out everyday thinking, "Today, I'm going to lay this ONE brick as perfect and as straight as I can." If you do that everyday, before you know it, you WILL have the best and greatest wall ever.

When it came to games of chess, my father and I would play for hours and one night when I was 11 or 12, I finally beat him. I never lost since; to any other family members or to any of my friends whom I've played with. I remember Freshman year in high school, killing time until being picked up and walking around the campus halls. I passed by the room where the chess club was "practicing" and I poked my head in. I ended up playing one of the upperclassmen, who was pretty cocky, teasing me that I was just a stupid Freshman and a jock at best. Needless to say, the look on his face when I beat him was priceless.

But with everything, what broke my heart the most was what I felt I was in danger of becoming. That's what made me so ashamed. That's what makes me work so hard. I'M the one my that went to a private school out of all my siblings. I'M the one who went to college out of everyone. I'M the one who's supposed to be the "breadwinner" and take care of them. But now I'M the biggest contribution to the problem? That broke my heart. I can't be that. I can't be a waste. I'd talk to my brother and he'd say how he wished he was old enough to get a job so that he could pay for his own food and clothes. A 14yr old kid isn't supposed to be thinking about that!

My siblings are like my kids. Growing up, every summer, instead of sending everyone to summer fun/camp, I'd take care of my siblings. I've been cooking, clothing, and changing their diapers since I was 8 years old. They're like my own. So I hated the idea that I couldn't help them and the possibility that I was doing more harm then good. I couldn't even send them $20 if I wanted to.

The thing is, I don't care what happens to me. At that point, I didn't care if my credit got messed up, if I was bunking with an ex con, living off a loaf of bread, sleeping in my car, showering at 24 Hour Fitness, negative $100 in my account, whatever. I didn't care. But the moment it starts affecting the people that I care about, that's when it got to me. My eyes start to well up everytime I think about this.

So with the vibration of the umpteenth car rushing by me, my eyes shot open and I thought, "I can't be that guy." My family is counting on me and so there HAD to be a next move. I had to MAKE a next move. And if there's one thing that I've learned from playing chess, it's that there's ALWAYS a next move, I just gotta look harder.

That's when it hit me: I could call my aunt (my mom's sister) who was in town for the weekend, the one who I was supposed to meet up with after the Virgin Air interview and just see what happens from there.

And that's what I did.

And like a guardian angel with perfect timing, she drove the two hours through traffic from Long Beach to come and meet me. We used her AAA card to tow my car down to her mechanic in Long Beach and we called my grandma and used her credit card to fix it.

"I have an interview in Pasadena at 4pm tomorrow," I told the mechanic when we got there. "You think I'll be able to make that?" "Yeah," he replied. "Don't worry about it. It should be ready by lunch." "That was perfect," I thought, knowing that with LA traffic, it would take me around two hours to get from Long Beach to Pasadena.

And that was that. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I sat in the passenger seat of my aunt's car, and headed back to her dogsitter's house where she was staying for the weekend. Since I didn't know them, I couldn't stay there, so my friend from college, Jon, picked me up and I crashed at his place for the night. Jon had moved to LA for work I honestly don't know what I'd do if he wasn't here. I owe that guy my life.

The following day, I called the mechanic around 11:30am to see if I should start heading over to pick up my car. He hesitated at first, then replied, "Um, it's not ready yet."

"What? You said it would be ready today by lunch," I told him growing more agitated. "I have a job interview at 4pm."

"Sorry, man," he apologized ever so insincerely, "I thought it would be ready today but it looks like we won't be able to get it back to you till tomorrow."

What the f*ck?! So not only did I miss my Virgin Air interview but now, I'm gonna miss this Gamestop interview?! The last and only hope I have to generate any type of income, with three days left in the Shady House to either pay for another month's rent or get out and be homeless. I kind of chuckled cynically and thought how, at this point, I should've expected that to happen.

So in hopes of being able to reschedule my interview, I call Gamestop to tell them that I'm having car trouble and won't be able to make it that day. Luckily, they were understanding and I was able to reschedule to Sunday, the following day. I thanked them and when the interview arrived, I killed it. I'm usually really confident whenever I get an interview, and I know it's only Gamestop, but to this day, I'm 100% when it comes to job interviews. From Microsoft to Genie to Gamestop, everytime I've ever had an interview, I've gotten the job. I don't know, I guess I make a good first impression.

So I had my first interview on Sunday, my second interview on Monday, and that's when they hired me on the spot. To my pleasant surprise, I was hired as one of the lower managers and had a key to the store. That was awesome because initially I went in thinking that I was just gonna be one of their regular sales reps, but in being a key holder, I was now guaranteed 40hrs a week. Finally, I get a break!

My last day in the Shady House was that Tuesday and all that was left was to tell Bob of my situation and convince him to let me stay until I got my first paycheck to where I'd be able to pay him. So upon arriving back at the Shady House after my second interview that Monday night, I track Bob down to tell him what's going on.

"Look," I tell him, "I just got a full time job today but I won't be able to get you the $500 for another month until I get my first paycheck. Is it cool if I stayed here for a couple of weeks and pay you when I get paid?"

He didn't even take his eyes off the television, "It's $30 a day or $180 a week."

"I don't think you understood what I said," I said getting frustrated, "I GOT a job. I'm probably THE only one here who has a full time job. I just don't get my first paycheck until a couple of weeks."

"I understand what you said," he replied, still unfazed, "but it's $30 a day, or $180 a week."

"Fine," I said and walked back to my "room". That weekend, after hearing that I had been living off of a loaf of bread, my aunt went to Costco and bought me a bunch of Spam and Vienna sausage. Enough to hold me off for a couple of months. On top of that, she gave me $60 for groceries. After the conversation with Bob, I went to my "room", grabbed that $60 and gave it to him. "I'll stay til Thursday," I told him as I handed him the money, buying myself another two days. I walked away thinking, "What the f*ck am I gonna do now?"

Two days to find a place and still negative $100 in my bank account. How do I keep ending up with these effed up time limits to find a place to live?! Although, this time I smiled. "At least I have a job now," I thought.

So those last two days in the Shady House I called the few people I knew and met in LA. I knew I couldn't stay with Jon, because his place was way to small and I'd just get in the way. I tried calling a couple of guys I had met through Jon. They were his high school buddies who were ballin' and had a huge condo and more than enough room for me to crash on their couch for a couple of weeks. I even told them I'd pay them. However, the mother of one of the guys was the owner. So that guy called his mom and asked her if it was cool (don't know why he did that, but yeah) and of course, she said no. Which, I guess kinda made sense. Even though we'd gone out, drank, and had a bunch of jam sessions those first six months I was there, they were still Jon's friends and not necessarily MY friends.

Thursday morning came around and I still had no place to go. I was thinking how I wish I at least had a place to store the boxes in my back seat so that I could just sleep in my car and shower at 24 Hour Fitness. And that's when I got the call from the Brooklyn, the actor who's brother was staying in the tool shed here at the Shady House. If you recall in part 3, he had stopped by and threw around the notion of turning his house into a legit version of the Shady House. That day, he was calling to tell me that his house was almost ready and ask if I was still interested.

"Yes!" I exclaimed with relief. "Can I move in right now?!"

He told me that everything was ready except the beds were not going to come in until that weekend, but the house should be ready to move in by Monday. "I don't care," I told him. "I could sleep on the floor." He then explained that his girlfriend and her kid was staying in the house that weekend and it wouldn't be a good idea. "That's cool," I said. "Could I at throw my stuff in the garage?" "Sure," he said. And within an hour, I packed up all my stuff, gave everyone in the house a huge "Peace!" and headed over to Brooklyn's place which was actually five minutes down the street.

That place was HEAVEN compared to every place I've stayed thus far. It was the first clean place and since I was the first one there, I got to claim my bed. It was a bit more expensive than the Shady House but it was a really nice house and everything was included just like the Shady House. The key difference from the Shady House was the two person limit to each room. Thank you!

That weekend I stayed at Jon's and on Monday I moved into my place of salvation! "March is gonna be a pretty good month," I thought to myself. A new job, a new place. Why shouldn't it be? I had told Brooklyn my situation with the job and not being able to pay him for a couple of weeks and he was cool about it.

And that's all I did: work, go home, eat Spam, sleep, work, go home, eat Vienna sausage, sleep, rinse and repeat. So a couple of weeks go by and my first paycheck comes in and it's SMALL. I hate how that first check at a job is always so small. The last time I remember getting paid that little was when I worked part time in the cafeteria at the dorms Freshman year of college.

So I give him what I could and tell him I'd get him the rest of the money come next paycheck. Next check comes in and it's not that much bigger than the last. "What the hell is up with the tax in California?!", I'm wondering. I pay Brooklyn the remaining balance and the rest goes to student loans. But somewhere in trying to balance catching up with rent and my student loans, something went wrong and I ended up having to do the same thing for April, paying Brooklyn most of the rent during the first paycheck and the remainder from the second.

Towards the end of April, with May's rent right around the corner, Brooklyn takes me aside to have a talk and explains to me that I can't be playing catch up again. I tell him that I completely understand because hey, the man's got bills and a mortgage to pay and he can't keep on depending on the hopes that MAYBE I'll have all the money on time. I knew it wasn't personal and it was only business and if I couldn't pay the rent on time then he'd have to find someone who could. I totally understood where he was coming from so there was no hard feelings walking away from that conversation. Luckily, I told him, in doing my taxes, I saw that I'd be getting a little over $1000 back and that would be more than enough to catch me up with rent and keep me afloat so that I wouldn't fall behind again. "Cool," he said. And that was settled. All I had to do was wait for the check to come in (which would be within the week), a check I had been anxiously awaiting being that that would be the most money I would have since being at Microsoft.

The date that the check should have arrived came and went and I still hadn't received the money. With a couple of days left until rent is due, the envelope came in the mail. I rushed to my room and opened it, excited as if it were Christmas morning. As I tore open the envelope I thought, "Finally! I have a little leeway with my money!" But when I took out what's inside, it wasn't a check at all. It was a letter. The letter stated that because I had fallen so far behind on my student loans, and because it was a federal student loan, my WHOLE tax return went to paying it and I would receive NOTHING. Not a cent.

I put the letter down and just stared at the wall. I wasn't even mad. I wasn't sad or depressed. I accepted it as if it were another Monday and a part of me even expected it. I immediately began packing my things and began thinking of my next move. "Life is like a chess move..."

By this time, my aunt had completed her move down from Oregon, however, the last time I spoke to her, she was still staying with her dogsitters and was looking for a house to buy. After I packed my stuff, I gave her a call and told her about my situation. She informed me that she had just bought a house in Long Beach but was still staying with her dogsitters because it was unfurnished and the plumbing wasn't finished yet. I told her I didn't mind that since I was gonna be homeless in a day and that I'd sleep on the floor and shower at 24 Hour Fitness until the plumbing was fixed. As long as I had a roof over my head, I didn't even mind the idea of driving the two hours, one way, to work everyday. She even said that I could stay with her for several months completely free of charge so that I could save up all the money I could to get on my feet.

Within a couple of days, I was living in Long Beach and making the 2 hour commute to work. "Finally! Some real salvation!" I thought. Little did I know how soon I had spoken as these following months would prove to be the toughest months that I would ever have to endure thus far.

..To Be Continued...

Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope

Hollywood Confessions Part 3: The Shady House

So before I fully get into the shadiness of the "Shady House", I'll have to introduce you to an important character of this story: my car. Some of you remember the Sentra I had in Seattle but when things started to get rough, I couldn't keep up with the payments so I had to say "bye bye" to her. Then there was the old Cadillac Deville that I bought off of Troy which, needless to say, was cool to get around Seattle, but there was no way I was going to drive that gas chugging boat down to LA.

So when I finally flew down, I had no car. I mentioned earlier that my grandmother had sent me $1000 to help me find a car, but that's all the money I could really put towards one and that's really not that much to get something reliable. My cousin's boyfriend knew someone who was selling his '93 Civic and eventually that's what I ended up buying.

It was, by far, the most ghetto car I've ever owned. The whole suspension was messed up beyond comprehension. The whole car would shake when I went over 40mph. The back passenger side tire would knock incredibly loud when I got over 50mph since the bushings were wore down the metal. It sounded like someone was banging a hammer against the back of the car as I drove. When it came to the front suspension, it was dangerously loose and whenever I'd hit bumps on the freeway, I'd clench my teeth because it literally felt like I was driving on ice and at any moment, the wheels on the car would break off, sending the body one way and the wheels in the other. It was so loose that if you pushed down on the hood, it would bounce so low that the front bumper would hit the ground. There were times where I even had to anticipate the sliding of the steering so I can overcompensate on the turn.

Oh, and did I also mention that it had no brakes? Yeah. You know how when you brake, the pressure increases gradually as the speed slowly decreases? Yeah, there was none of that going on. I made sure to stay a long ways behind the car in front of me because I literally had to go "pedal to the metal" when it came to my brake. I had to pump it to the floor three or four times until it I got down to a safe speed to where I could keep it on the floor and skid to a stop. The brake pads were worn down and I pretty much was running metal on metal.

To give you an idea of how many miles were on these racks, when I got it, the mileage was over 250k. Yeah, you read that right. What's worst was that they had taken the fuse out that powers the dash board so along with not seeing how fast I was going, the mileage never increased so who knows how long the number's been stuck at 250k+ miles. It could've been over 300k for all I knew.

Cosmetically, the interior was literally tore up from the floor up. There was no rear view mirror, the AC was broken, the stereo was broken, the glove compartment didn't close, and 1/4th of the driver's seat was ripped off so I had to get used to driving with no cushion beneath my left leg. Boy, that was incredibly uncomfortable to drive with and ten times more uncomfortable to sleep on (I'll get to that part of the story later). The plastic beneath the steering wheel was missing and the wires were sticking out and looked as if ten million people tried to hot wire it but didn't know what they were doing.

So why did I buy it you wonder? It was the cheapest I could find ($1200) and since they had rebuilt the engine only 4 months old I didn't have to worry about THAT breaking down on me. Plus, with the amount I'd be driving around, I knew I'd be getting good mileage with a Civic. Bad thing about the engine though, was that the guy who built it was into street racing so there were aftermarket parts in the engine that made it impossible for me to pass the smog test, thus making me unable to register the car and update the tags on the license plates.

So with that, I had my much needed form of LA transportation. It seemed that every aspect of my car was illegal and I definitely knew the meaning of "riding dirty". But what started off as a $1200 purchase turned out to be an expensive ass project.

Also, back before I got kicked out of my aunt's place, my cousin flew up from Hawai'i and we drove all over the place sight seeing. Stupid me thought it was a good idea to try and drive to Vegas since it was only three hours away. We ended up making it but needless to say it messed the car up even further and I had to call my dad to use his credit card just so that we could get back to Cali. The damage was a little over $2500. Yeah, I know, I'm an idiot. But at least it got my breaks and my rear suspension fixed! The front suspension, however, still was loose and it was only a matter of time before I hit a bump on the freeway and lost complete control of my car.

Now at the Shady House, time was against me in terms of fixing up my car before I kill someone (or myself) and finding a job. Within the first week there, I still hadn't heard back from any jobs, three guys got kicked out of the house for crazy ass behavior and the more I spoke to the other people in the house, the more I heard about some shady ish.

It also turned out that Bob had just recently gotten out of prison. It didn't bother me since he was pretty open about it, although it was weird that he never really got into the reason why he was locked up.

In the second week, inspectors started to come over to the house. One inspector came to look at all the rooms to see what the living situation was like. He told Bob that they city has no restrictions about how many people could live under one roof just as long as, structurally, everyone has access to all the rooms in the house. In other words, he told Bob the house was cool as long as he put a door in our garage aka "room" that connected it to the rest of the house. Also, I guess the neighbors got suspicious because of the amount of different people going in and out of the house at all hours of the night because at one point in time, I heard the house was being staked out.

This second week was also the week that I got the flu. LA was cold at that time of the year and I remember that I couldn't fall asleep because I was so cold and couldn't stop coughing. I kinda feel bad for the other guys in the room. Nah, actually I don't. I was running out of bread and in retrospect I think I got sick from the combination of lack of sleep/nutrition, drinking the tap water and stress. One of the guys in the house cooked some soup, chicken, and pasta for me and I remember thinking how it felt so long since I've eating something that good.

Towards the end of the third week I started to get over my flu but the job hunt still wasn't going well. Then out of nowhere, a bunch of people started to move into the house. They were turning up like flies on shit. Come to find out all these people moving in were the people from the first house. Then I hear that the reason everyone was moving in was because Bob was pocketing everyone's money and not paying the mortgage so the house got foreclosed. That's when we find out what Bob went to jail for: fraud. At one point, there were 37 people living in this four bedroom, 2.5 bathroom house (that's including Bob's room so in actuality it was 3 bedrooms). It was impossible to get any privacy and I found myself spending a lot of time in my car and playing my ukulele to keep from going insane. During every second of the day or night, at least half of the people in the house were up. It was like the Real World house on crack minus the fun.

One of the guys who slept in the tool shed brought his brother, Brooklyn, over just to show him how messed up things were getting. Brooklyn was an actor who had a house about five minutes away. Needless to say, he was trippin out when he saw what we were going through. As we talked about the situation, he mentioned what a good idea it would be if it were actually done legitimately, maybe limiting it to two people per room and how he was now throwing around the idea of doing it to his house so he could move in with his girlfriend. I told him to keep me posted and he went on his way.

That's when I finally got a break! Well, sort of....

After weeks of no work and no food, I was able to book a Production Assistant gig that shot for four days, two days in Beverly Hills and two days up the street from where I lived. Good news was that it paid cash AND there was catering so I was able to take home food. Bad news was that it was a student film so it paid $20 a day. More bad news was that with practically no gas in my car and absolutely no money to fill the tank, I calculated that I had enough gas to work one day at Beverly hills and the two days when they shot up the street. But it was weird (and kinda sad) because when I booked the gig, I remember thinking, "It's been so long since the last time I felt this much relief and happiness"

And just like that, cha-ching! I had some cash on me. Wasn't much but you have no idea how rich I felt having $60 in my pocket. First thing I did was put $20 towards gas, $20 for groceries, and the last $20 I kept as "savings" just in case something came up.

Finally, on a Monday, with 8 days left in the month, I get a call from Virgin Airlines about an interview. I was ecstatic! Finally, I get a break! I applied to that place when I first moved down to Cali about five months prior and it was about time they called me back! I forget what position it was for, but I remember that I didn't care. I had no choice but to get this job.

Then, three days later, on Thursday, something else amazing happened. I get a call from Gamestop for an interview that Saturday. It's retail but who cared?! Things were finally looking up for me! I had a Virgin Airline interview on Friday and a Gamestop interview on Saturday! Woot woot!

Those four days till the first interview, ironically, went by much slower than the four days I was given to move out of my uncle's place. That Friday morning, my other aunt (my mother's sister) called me to tell me that she was in town for the weekend and that she wanted to meet up for dinner. She was going through her umpteenth divorce and was in the process of moving her stuff back down to Long Beach from Oregon. I told her it sounded good and that I'd meet up with her after my interview. So with that, I put on my suit, jumped in my death mobile (I mean my car) and headed down the 405 (one of the busiest freeways in LA) towards LAX.

The whole way down the freeway I was thinking about how I was gonna nail the interview. I don't mean to brag, but up until that point I was 100% on all the interviews I ever went on.

About 5 minutes into my 45 minute drive, as I was making a slight right turn on the freeway, hit huge bump and immediately I feel something wrong with the steering. It becomes extra loose and the only way I could describe the feeling is by comparing it to the last scene of Cool Runnings when the lines of the bobsled become loose and the skates start wobbling uncontrollably right before it crashes; that's how my car felt. So, expecting something bad to happen, I took my foot off the gas and positioned my car in a place where no one else was around, all the while taking note of the semi-truck that was in the lane behind me.

Just as I did that, the back of my car went into a tail whip, sending me out of control, and swerving in and out of my lane. I finally skid to a stop, going from 60mph to 0mph in a matter of seconds, with my car finally coming to a rest with the nose facing 10 o'clock. As all this was going on, my first reaction was to look behind me and brace myself for the semi-truck to hit me. My heart raced as I heard roar of its horn, watched the driver slam on his brakes and come to a stop about 20yds behind me. Luckily, I had made sure there were no cars in the adjacent lanes but the cars caught in the near vicinity were slamming on their brakes and swerving around me which eventually cause the traffic to quickly pile up.

Stuck in the middle of the freeway, completely blocking the second to the left lane in a four lane highway, I immediately tried putting the car in first gear to at least get in the far right median so I can check out the damage to my car.

Ahh! It was stuck and wouldn't move forward. Not even an inch! I put it in reverse. Still no success. I got out my car, and walked around the front, checking on my tires and avoiding the impatient people squeezing their way around me and my car. When I got to the passenger side, I saw what was wrong. "Woooooow," was all I could say, "Really?"

My front passenger tire was turned all the way in, perpendicular to what it should be, as if making a wide left turn, despite the steering wheel being pointed forward. "Can you move at all?", I hear a voice say. An older man in his forties stopped and was walking towards me, avoiding the major traffic that I was now responsible for. I shake my head and shrug. I didn't know what to say. I felt helpless.

"Get in," he said, "I'll kick the tire forward and we'll get you off to the median."

And that's what we did. I got in my car and this man literally shuffled next to my car and continuously kicked my tire, keeping it straight so that I could get to the median. Once there, I shook the man's hand and thanked him as he wished me good luck.

I sat back in my car and called the Virgin Air lady to try and reschedule my interview. She apologized and said that it was a group interview and that they'd find the person to fill the position by the end of the day. I thanked her, hung up the phone and began undoing my tie. I listened to the cars whiz by and with every passing vehicle that shook my car, I wished that my car could trade places with theirs.

T.I. said "Life is like a chess move, make your next move your best move." But what was my next move? For the first time since I've moved down to Cali I felt that I literally didn't have a next move.

I was still in the negatives in my bank account so I couldn't get a tow truck. If I did get a tow, where would I tow it to? If I towed it to a garage, then what? It's not like I had the money to fix the car. On top of that, it was Friday and I had to be out of the Shady House by Tuesday. Four days....FOUR...DAYS...everything seems to come down to four days...

So there I sat in silence for who knows how long. Listening to the noise from the traffic, feeling the heat from the sun, wiping the sweat on my forehead, and staring at the cars going by wondering what was I going to do.

"Good luck," the man had told me before he left. I chuckled. Good luck? I needed a little more than a little luck to get me out of the shithole I was in.

Oh, and did I mention I didn't have any insurance?


Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope

Hollywood Confessions Part 2: Moving Day

Four days....

Four...days...

How the hell was I gonna find a place that required no down payment and no first month's/last month rent for $400 in four days?! In LA no less! Oddly though, the first thought that went through my mind was, "Whew! At least I don't have to pay my aunt for this month!"

So for those last four days, craigslist was my best friend. I also began looking up prices for storage units as I needed a place to store my seven boxes since sleeping in my car and showering at 24hour fitness was still the number one option on my list. Shitty thing was, I couldn't really drive around to check out these places in person because I figured that would just waste gas and, let's face it, I needed every dollar I could spare for what was in store for me.

Honestly, the idea of sleeping in my car didn't bother me a bit. The way I saw it was that if that's what I had to do to stay in LA and make things work, then that's what I had to do. My uncle had made it clear that "it wasn't because of the money and it wasn't because they had no room" (there were four of us living in a four bedroom house: my aunt and uncle in one room, my cousin in another, me in the third, and no one in the fourth) and if the reason for kicking me out was not being able to watch TV in that backroom and it was "tearing the family apart", then I figured I didn't want be there anyway.

Friday came with a quickness. I wasn't able to find any work so the $430+ dollars that I had in my account was set in stone. I remember kinda chuckling when my aunt asked me if I needed help moving. I still didn't know what to do or say. I hadn't decided what my next step was and I was being bombarded with questions like, "So where's your new place?" and "Do you need us to help you move?"
 

Four days...that's all I was given and I was still lost. I needed to buy myself more time. So that Friday afternoon I told my aunt that I had found an apartment but they were fixing the plumbing so it won't be ready until February. She believed me and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I bought myself about another two weeks.

Craigslist...Look for work...Send out my resume...

That pretty much was my schedule for those last couple of weeks. The response: nothing, nothing, and nothing. I couldn't even book any background work which would've given me at least another couple hundred dollars to work with and would've helped exponentially.  I remember thinking, "WTF is going on?!  I'm a recent grad with Microsoft on my resume!!"  

January seemed to go by faster than those four days and on January 30th, I was in the same predicament as I had been two weeks prior: no place, no money, same questions. That night I sat at the dining room table, looking at my cousin's laptop (my computer was still up in Seattle), sorting through craigslist, desperately searching for ANYTHING and wondering what was I gonna do about checking emails and finding work when I move since I didn't have a computer. And that's when I found it...

"Live in a house with other musicians, actors, and filmmakers!" the heading had said. Intriguing. I clicked on it and with each line I read, my smile grew. "Live amongst other creative minds! Great networking opportunity! $500 a month, NO deposit, NO credit check! Fully furnished, cable and internet included! Community computer! Swimming pool, pool table!" AND it was 15 minutes north of Hollywood?! What?! That's impossible! There had to be a catch! There were pictures of the house and they all looked incredible. Then towards the bottom of the page I noticed that it said that the sleeping situation was dorm style, meaning, you shared rooms with someone else. "That's all?!," I thought. Fuck it, I lived in the dorms for a whole year! And it was either that or sleep in my car. It was a no brainer! I called the contact number and set up an appointment for the following day with every intention to move in despite whatever "catch" there might be.

The following morning I got up early, threw all my clothes and whatever boxes that I could in my car and headed out to see the house. I told my aunt that I was "off to my new apartment", that I didn't need help moving and that I'd be back within the following days to pick up the rest of my stuff. The house was about an hour away and during that hour, I kept thinking about how the whole deal seemed too good to be true. I admit that I was a bit worried that I already had it in mind to move in without even seeing the place. What if it wasn't what I expected? What if it was a scam and didn't really exist? What if there was some crazy catch that wasn't included in the posting? What if serial killers owned the house? What if it was a porn house? After all, it WAS in the valley.

All these things were going through my mind, along with what I would do if I decided NOT to move in. I couldn't go back to my aunt's place, could I? And say what? "Oh, they're still not done with the plumbing. Can I stay another month?" So needless to say, a lot was riding on this one visit.

So I pull up to the meeting place and it looked nothing like the picture. Greeeat. RED FLAG. I call the guy I'm meeting on his cell phone and he comes out the house (I forgot his name already so I'll just call him Bob). Bob seemed like a nice, harmless guy. A white guy in shorts and a t-shirt, probably in his mid fifties, a bit overweight, and tatted up the arms. He came off as that guy who was probably cool and got a lot of girls in high school, but as he got older he never really grew up or changed the way he interacted with women making him now that creepy old guy who acts and talks to girls like he's still 20. He told me that the house in the posting was down the street and he'd take me to it.

"Whew, thank goodness. This isn't the place," I thought.

He explained that this house we were meeting at was the exact same deal as the house in the posting and invited me to check this one out before we head over to the other one. "Sure, why not", I told him.

As we walked through the house he said that he had this house and the one I came to look at. He rented them both out to people trying to make it in the entertainment industry for $500 a bed and I couldn't help but think of how brilliant that was: low rent for the struggling artist but with the $500 he gets a head, it really adds up for him (especially with more than one person per room). "This guy must be making bank!" I thought.

So we get to the actual house and it's a lot bigger than the first. He took me through the front door which, like the first house, had a key-less entry. "Everyone get's their own code," he said as he punched in some numbers on the numeric keypad. We went in and it was a lot nicer than the first. It looked a lot more modern and was definitely a house that cost over a million, but in LA, that isn't saying much. He took me down the hallway and showed me three rooms: two of the rooms had two bunk-beds in them and the third was a bit bigger so it had three. He pointed to one of the rooms with two bunk-beds and said, "This is the girls' room and is off limits to the guys." "Only four girls?", I asked. He looked back at me and nodded slightly, "Yeah. I don't have a limit for guys, but I've found that if I have any more than four girls there's a lot of drama." I laughed, "Makes sense."

Everything seemed in order. There were two and half bathrooms and we were all given a number that corresponded with some cabinets, closets, and some shelves in the fridge (there were four fridges throughout the house) so that we could put our stuff. We passed by a fourth room with a huge king sized bed and a TV. Turned out that Bob lived in the house too. I didn't think anything of it, but in retrospect that should've been another RED FLAG.

We then walked by the room with the pool table where a couple of people were racking up a game, then through the living room where some people were sitting on a huge, white, L-shaped couch watching a movie on a 50inch plasma, through the kitchen and out to the back yard that housed a swimming pool, an enormous trampoline, a tool shed and a number of orange and lemon trees.

"Sold, sold, sold, and sold," I said to myself.

The age range in the house seemed pretty broad: from low 20s to late 50s. When we got outside there were a bunch of guys drinking and smoking out. I thought back to the posting on craigslist, "Come live with other aspiring artists my ass." RED FLAG.

He then took me to the "room" to show me the beds that were for rent. It was structurally connected to the house but it was weird because the only way to access it was to go out the back door, around the corner and into another side door. I realized that this "room" that he was renting out was actually more of a converted garage posing as a "room".

In this "room" there were 7 bunk-beds lined up nicely against the wall on a cold concrete floor. "This isn't a room," I thought. "This is an orphanage!" RED FLAG. "I just acquired this house so we're still setting things up," he explained before I could say anything. "I'm putting wood flooring to cover up the concrete and we're installing air conditioners." Suuuure.

The whole thing wasn't ideal and the red flags definitely made me hesitate, but I knew I wasn't gonna get anything better for that cheap. As we went back outside, I pointed at the tool shed and asked, "I've got some boxes. Would I be able to put them in that tool shed?"

"No," he replied. "I've got two more bunk beds setup in there." I looked at him waiting for the "Siiiiiiike!" but then I realized he was serious. Maaaaaaan....RED FLAG.

Fuck it. "So can I just give you a check for $500 and start moving my stuff in now?", I began to ask. He interrupted me, "I only take cash. Didn't I mention that earlier?" No, sir, you did not. RED FRICKEN FLAG! Damnit!

So I jumped into my car and headed over to the Ralph's/Wellsfargo that I passed a few blocks up. Knowing that I only had a little over $430 in my account, I drove in silence, hoping that the ATM would let me take out the full $500 to cover the rent. I got to the bank, parked my car, and slowly walked up to the ATM. Standing in front of it for about a good minute, I stared at the screen, preparing myself for what I was about to put myself through. "I'm buying myself time," I tried to convince myself. "I'm buying myself opportunity."

Fuck it. I put my debit card in the machine, typed in the amount and closed my eyes. I blew a sigh of relief and reopened my eyes as I heard $500 cash pop out the machine. Then I thought, "Damn. I didn't expect for it to go through. I should've asked for a little more so I can at least buy some groceries to last the month."

When I got back to my car, I searched the glove compartment, under the seats, in the cracks of the cushions and everywhere in between. I was able to find about a dollar and some change and so I took that, went back into Ralph's and bought my groceries for the month: a loaf of bread.

When I got back to the house, I gave the cash to Bob and began unloading my car. "This is it," I thought. "This is the month that will either make or break me: February 2009." I had bought myself a month and in a couple of days, my overdraft fees will be charged, putting me at almost negative $100 in my account which will remain that way until I find another income. I had no steady job and The Office didn't need any extra help. I also had to skip payment towards my calling service so I wasn't getting any background work either.

No job. No money. Student loans quickly piling up. The clock was now ticking and I had ONE month to find SOME type of income in the city with the highest unemployment rate in the nation during the peak of the nation's worst recession since the great depression. "Yeah," I thought. "No pressure."

The first couple of days at the house, I spent a lot of time thinking of my next move and looking for jobs online. I sent my resume out to everyone I could and applied to everything under the sun. From retail to temp work, from Google to a McDonald's cashier. If it paid (and was legal), I applied for it. I remember being more confused then frustrated. I had a degree so why was it so hard to get a job? Why wasn't Barnes & Noble, Jack In the Box, McDonald's, or Panda Express calling me back?! Give me something! Luckily, I moved into the house pretty early so I was able to spend lots of time on the community computer before other people got in.

About a week or so into February, the house was 3/4 full. I had so far been doing a good job of stretching the loaf of bread I bought by eating a piece a day and drinking lots of water. I can't even tell you how many times I had sleep for dinner. I had a thin cloth that I put on my bed as a mattress cover, used a bunch of crumpled t-shirts as a pillow and slept under some jackets as a blanket.

I still hadn't heard back from any jobs and thought that, out of all the months I bought, why did I have to buy the shortest one; as if I had a choice. The weird thing was, I don't remember ever being worried or stressed. I was always thinking of my next move and felt I didn't have time to feel any anxiety. The way I saw it was that I could either sit around and blame my uncle for kicking me out or I could make moves. My situation was happening whether I liked it or not, so putting all my energy into digging myself out this hole made more sense than spending it on complaining and feeling sorry for myself.

As the days gone by, I learned more about the house and how shady things really were. Little did I know how shady things would get and how crazy my situation would escalate during that February of 2009 living in the "Shady house".

In the middle of my second week there, I laid there in the dark on the bottom bunk, head on my shirts, warmth from my jackets, stomach growling, and closed my eyes and thought that if this is what I have to go through to achieve my goals, then so be it. I'm willing to do anything and everything I can to make a better life for my family and retire my mother. A part of me even thought, "This is it. This is the point to where people seriously start selling drugs and turn to a life of crime in order to make ends meat." Then out of the darkness, I hear the voice of my bunk -mate, a forty something year old man who just moved into the house earlier that evening with nothing more than a backpack and a few items of clothing. "Man," he whispered, "this is worse than being back in prison."

"Shit," I thought. "This is gonna be an interesting month."

...To be continued...

Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope
 

25 Tips for the Perfect Valentine's Day!

I know that women don't wanna hear something like this, but I really don't believe in Valentine's Day. I just think it's a ploy made by society to stimulate the economy by making men think that they're somehow assholes for not showering their women with meaningless gifts like flowers that are gonna die in a week, a stuffed animal that's only gonna end up upside down under the bed and chocolate that will make our asses look like feta cheese pounded with cookie dough (I don't know what that means either).

But that's OK, because isn't growing fat together the true sign of love? But the way I see it, I don't need a nationally designated day to pick up my slack and cram, in hopes of showing you how much I care. I bring bring my girl gifts, take her out, cook for her, make her laugh, love her and care for her as much as I can for every single day of the year. So I'm sorry if I don't feel the need to join in with the rest of the slacker men, bringing their women the moon, one day out of the year, thinking that it'll make up for the 364 day's of half assing it.

Don't you remember? I brought you the moon too..yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, and on and on and on. And I'll keep bringing you the moon because I don't need no stupid ass "Valentine's Day" to tell me when I should treat my woman special. It's like the tortoise and the hare: slow and steady wins the race.

So please ladies, take "Valentine's Day" off of the ridiculously high pedestal you have it on. It's OK to be single on this day. It's OK to stay home with your significant other to cook and call it a movie night. It's just another day.

But if you folks decide to go out to a nice restaurant, to a concert, trip to Paris, skydiving, skinny dipping, or all of the above, that's great too. You need to spend that quality time together even if it's just for one day. And with that, I leave the fellas with tips that go above and beyond and will GUARANTEE that this will be a day that your lady will never forget! =)

1. When you take her out and she asks how she looks, shrug and say, "Could be better". This will keep her on her toes and girls love that.

2. Never hold her hand. This can be interpreted as a sign of weakness. But if she grabs your hand, squeeze it really, really hard until she cries. This will impress her by showing her what a strong man you are.

3. Sneak up on her from behind and knock her over. Girls are like dogs: they love to be roughed up.

4. Call her in the middle of the night to ask if she's sleeping. If she is say, "You'd better be". Repeat this 4 or 5 times until morning. This will show her you care.

5. If she gets upset about something, suggest to her that it might be her fault. This will pave the way for her own personal improvement and every girl needs some sort of improvement.

6. Recognize the small things because they usually mean the most. Then when she's not looking, steal all her small things and break them. Because jewelry is for pussies....and old asian ladies.

7. Talk to another girl and make sure shes looking. When she is, stare into her eyes mouth the words, "F*#k you" and grab the other girls ass. Girls love competition.

8. Tell her you're taking her out to dinner and make sure you drive for miles so she thinks it's going to be really special. Then take her to a burning tire yard. When she starts to get upset tell her you were just kidding and now you're really going to take her to dinner. Then drive her home. When she starts crying and asks why you would do something like that lean over and whisper very quietly into her ear "...Because I can..."

9. If you bump into people you know, make sure to introduce her as "some chick". Women love those special nicknames.

10. Play with her hair. Play with it HARD. You know what I mean...

11. If it's cold out, be sure to warm her up. But not by giving her your jacket, then you might get cold. Rather, look her in the eye and say "If you don't stop bitching about the cold right now you're going to be bitching about a black eye." The best way to get warm is with fear.

12. Take her to a party. When you get there she'll have to go to the bathroom (they always do). Leave immediately. Come back right when the party's dying and yell at her the whole way home for ditching you at the party.

13. Make her laugh. A good way to do this is if she has a small pet. Kick the pet. I always find stuff like that funny. Why shouldn't girls?

14. Let her fall asleep in your arms. When she's fast asleep, wait 10 minutes then JUMP UP AND SCREAM IN HER EAR! Repeat until she goes home and you can use your arms for more important things...like basketball.

15. Spit...Spit often. I hear girls like guys that spit.

16. If you care about her never ever tell her. This will only give her self confidence. Then you can never turn her into the object she deep down desires to be.

17. If you go over to her house, steal one of the following: shoes, earrings, or anything else that comes in pairs. Only take ONE of the pair. This way she'll go crazy.

18. If you DO decide to take her out to dinner, right when shes about to order, interrupt and say that she's not hungry. Then make her watch you eat. Girls love a guy that speaks for her.

19. Look her in the eyes and smile. Then clock her one. Girls love a spontaneous guy.

20. Give her one of your t-shirts and make sure it has your smell on it. But not a sexy cologne smell. A bad smell. You know what I'm talking about.

21. Titty twisters...and plenty of them.

22. If you're listening to music and she asks to hear it, tell her no. This way she'll think you're mysterious.

23. Be sure to NOT get her a present. This will teach her that material objects aren't important and that the only thing that IS important is that she keeps you happy. And your happiness is the greatest present she can ever get.

24. For romantic suspense, promise her that you will call her at a certain time of the day. This will make sure that she waits by the phone. Tell her that when you call, youre going to tell her a special surprise that will kick off the epic eve ts that you've planned on this special day. Now she'll be really excited. Now dont call.

25. And finally, when she gives you a present (because if she knows any better, she will), be sure to take it and tell her you love it. Then next trash day, leave the trash can open and have the present visibly sticking out of the can. Girls actually don't like this one that much but i think it's funny.

These steps can be applied to your relationship year around. So take it, live by it, and let the good times roll! Happy Valentine's Day!

*Disclaimer: Conrad Lihilihi takes no responsibility for the repercussions suffered if these tips are followed to the T. Blame your own dumb ass.

Hollywood Confessions Part 1: Where's the Love?

I've tried to keep in touch with many of my friends, both from Hawai'i and Seattle, since my move here to California. It's funny how my whole pursuit of a career in the entertainment industry seems so glamorous to everyone. Yes, I worked in production for the television show The Office last season where I got to meet the whole cast and crew and yes, I did a lot of background (extra) work where I got to be on shows such as Heroes, ER, The Office, Chuck, CSI: NY, The Mentalist, Lie To Me, Eli Stone, Better Off Ted, Lie To Me, Dollhouse, Samantha Who, amongst others; and a number of movies as well. I've made a lot of connections and I've gone through a lot of struggles since moving here and there's nothing else I could see myself pursuing. However, "glamorous" would probably be the last word that I'd use to describe my stay here. Then again, when I spoke to my friends, I'd leave out all the bad stuff and I'd tell them what they expected to hear. I'd talk about being on set, the wonderful catering, and rubbing shoulders with the cast and crew. So it's no wonder why they had this "glamorous" perception of how I was living.

There were very few people whom I confided on what I was really going through, mainly because I was so embarrassed. I had gone from working at Microsoft in Seattle and living in a nice condo to the mishap that I can only label as "Febuary 2009". When I spoke to people, they seemed so impressed that I had the courage to drop everything to pursue my dream that I didn't want to disappoint them on the reality of my struggle. Now, with the dawn of February 2010, a year has passed since the beginning of the setting of my story and I've come so far that I feel more open in speaking about this. Some of you have heard this story already, most of you haven't. But here it is, raw and uncut.

Before we head into February 2009, let's rewind a bit to August of 2008. That was when I moved down to Cali from Seattle. It was really out of the blue and it completely caught all my friends off guard. In fact, from the moment I made the decision to move to the moment I actually flew down, only a week had passed so you could only imagine how surprised everyone was when I announced my goodbye party. Hey, I knew the Assistant Director for The Office and was given the opportunity to work on the show so how could I pass that up?! She told me that the money wouldn't be lucrative so I should save some money before I head down.

But, upon speaking with my grandmother about the opportunity, she advised me in heading down as soon as possible, saying that I could stay with her sister (who lives 40 minutes outside of downtown LA) and that she would send me money to help me ship my stuff down and even buy me a one way ticket down to LA!! Even though I hadn't spent any time saving money, things looked good since I didn't have to worry about a place to stay and how I was gonna get down to LA and the only thing left for me to worry about was getting a car. So my grandmother, being the most loving and generous person I know, sends me an extra grand to go towards a car. Even though it's impossible to find a dependable car for a grand, I was extremely grateful for the extra cash and with the help of my cousin and her boyfriend, I was able to find a '93 Civic for $1200. The suspension was messed and the interior was tore up but the engine was only four months old so that pretty much sold me. Little did I know how much the phrase, "you get what you pay for" would mean (especially in this case), but we'll get into that later.

So that was that. Within a matter of days, I sold what I could, shipped my stuff down to my aunt's place, packed the rest, jumped on the plane and I was up and off to good ole LA. It started off pretty good. I signed up for a background casting agency called Central Casting. It was $25 to sign up and there were no monthly fees but it was definitely a hustle because the process of getting background work is so tedious. You have to call in to the casting service, listen to the plethora of automated castings and then reply to the those in which you fit the description in hopes that you're what they're looking for. Since it's only background, it's relatively easy to get cast given that you're in the background and won't really be seen. But after a couple of weeks of going through the painful process of calling in daily, I decided to sign up for a calling service (agency that finds you work so you don't have to call). It cost $75 a month but it wasn't too bad given that you make more than that in one day and I started to get more work through them then by myself.

So there I was, alternating between doing background on different shows and PAing on The Office. Work was fun but inconsistent. Booking three or four days between the two was considered a good week and when I did, the days were really long. With every day of shooting you're looking at days that last anywhere between 12-18hrs. Add to the the fact that my aunt's place was so far from downtown LA, I had to leave 2hrs before my call time, to make up for traffic, only to take another full hour to get back home. So needless to say, my sleep was precious to me. But not as much as my money.

Minimum wage. That's what being non-union paid. $64 for 8 hrs. Only good thing was that since the days were so long, you pretty much were guaranteed overtime. And for the most part, we got fed so I didn't have to worry about food. But still, between all my student loans, paying rent to my aunt, and the money being spent on gas, I was pretty much scraping on by the skin of my teeth.

Then December 2008 came like a clown out the darkness that kick you in the balls and runs away giggling. The Office was on hiatus and I wasn't getting any background work. I went for weeks without work and to save money, I just stayed at my aunt's and played video games on the TV that they didn't use in the backroom (they mainly watched TV in the living room).

With the turn of the new year, I still wasn't getting any work and I could tell that my aunt and uncle were getting a little agitated at my staying home. It was hard getting them to understand the inconsistency of starting off in this industry. We had some run ins even within the beginning months of my stay and, from that, I could tell that my staying there had been a problem from day one. I thought that if I kept to myself, cleaned after myself and pretty much remained "invisible", I wouldn't bother them and be a problem.

So about a week or so into January 2009, on a Monday night, my uncle comes up to me out of nowhere while I'm watching a movie and says, "You know, sometimes we want to watch TV on this one, but we can't because you're here and it's tearing the family apart. Could you be out of here by Friday?"

I was speechless.

Not wanting to say something that would make matters worse, I replied with a brief, "OK" and went back to my movie, not even paying attention at this point and just thinking about what I was gonna do next. I thought about how I could maybe just keep most of my stuff at their place, get a P.O. Box, take the clothes that I need for work, sleep in my car, shower at 24 Hour Fitness and save money until I got my own place. But just as I decided on that plan, my uncle turns back and adds, "By the way, if you leave any of your stuff here, we're gonna throw it out."

So there I sat, Jackie Chan yelling in the background, thinking about what what I was gonna do with all my stuff and where I was gonna stay with just a little over $400 to my name and only four days to do it.

...To be continued...


Part 1: Where's the Love?

Part 2: Moving Day

Part 3: The Shady House

Part 4: False Salvation

Part 5: Four Star Hotel

Part 6: Do Unto Others

Part 7: So Close, Yet So Far

Part 8: Dent of Hope