It was somewhere between 3rd & Fairfax, and Santa Monica Boulevard & Avenue of the Stars --
Within a morning commute filled--first--with dread, then with complete adrenaline induced joy of approaching another task that I knew would challenge and grow me --
It was up six stories in a crammed elevator and through an old, blue door that I made a home with three others --
It was out a large, living room window that the Hollywood sign faced me day in and day out --
Beckoning me to write more, dream bigger, face greater fears, find more of me amongst the millions and millions striving to do the same --
It was over (a few) phone calls gone wrong, followed by tears shed in a bathroom --
It was during lunch with some of the most genius, hilarious, creative (coolest) individuals
I may ever meet in my life --
It was in front of the LAX sign that a memory came back to mind--an LAX memory from two years prior--and shook me to my core, reminding me of what really mattered --
It was in a church between La Brea and Hollywood Boulevard --
Creviced on Melrose --
Certainly not in DTLA --
But definitely on a bench, at the end of Santa Monica's pier --
I was scattered amongst apartment couches, old kitchens, hotel rooms, tall buildings, conference rooms, crowded restaurants, countless elevators with rich and poor alike, overpriced movie theaters, glitzy malls, bustling intersections, nooks of coffee shops, endless freeways, sandy beaches, stranger's homes, studio lots, three floors up in the Barnes & Noble, over the hills into NOHO, and back toward home in WEHO, from behind glass off Rodeo Drive, in Trader Joe's in Westwood, at the Writer's Guild with tears in my eyes and script in hand, perched at a windowsill, in every last reflection I caught of myself throughout the days that made me pinch myself nearly every hour --
That's where I was -- a version of myself I had yet to meet in life.
A stronger, more confident, more disciplined--perhaps ballsy--young woman.
A version looking in on something grand.
A version who had accepted humility -- and gladly at that.
A girl who was becoming a woman, not because of a degree but because of wisdom gained.
A woman who quickly thought twice --
A woman whose no's meant no, and whose yes's meant yes.
A woman who stood up for herself --
Who actually knew how to put her shoulders back --
Who welcomed criticism and answered back honestly.
A woman who was on the brink.
I didn't get her back today like she had hoped --
But I am so damn close.