I seem to be writing mammoth long blogs. So much is happening every day. If you are short of time, skip to the end for the life lesson, but you do miss the story along the way!
So hopefully you have all read my last blog like good little diligent blog followers, and have concluded that I can't drive very well in LA. I would agree. Man, am I going to go nuts on English roads when I get back, give me a left hand drive any day.
But I was left in dilemma. I am in LA for another 9 days, I have over 10 meetings, some three a day, and LA is BIG. I mean, BIG. Taxis are very expensive as no one gets them here, and buses are a) slow and badly connected, to make a short journey that takes 20 mins in a car, you have to leave 2 hours for bus, b) you get the bus if your gross annual household income is $100.
My LA friends tell me I have to get a car. There is no other way round this. I had contemplated calling my parents and telling them that I had been involved in two car accidents within 10 minutes of driving, and seeing if they would pay for taxis for the duration of my stay. They're my parents, my safety is paramount, they'd agree of course.
So what does that mean? That means I give into my fear. Fear of driving in LA, fear of harming others and myself. I did intend my last post to be quite comical, but in reality, I wasn't injured, and it could have been a lot worse, had I not bumped two vehicles in very slow moving traffic and drove on the freeway, which was something I had intended to do. Thank god for small mercies.
If I had any intention of ever moving to LA, I'd have to face this fear and drive a fucking car on the right side of the fucking road. But I was terrified now of driving, and my body had now remembered the feeling of my car jumping and jolting, and the sound of crashing metal. And the feeling of panic and helplessness. The thought of getting in a car again made me feel physically cold and I could feel my heart rate rising.
My brilliant friend Chanel, an LA local, offered to take me to my first meeting on Friday and afterwards, get another rental car and teach me to drive LA style. It was great to see her for the first time in over a year, and I was so grateful for her driving me around that day. But at the back of my mind, I had this sickening feeling that at some point during the day, I'd have to get behind a wheel again and drive (down Santa Fucking Monica Boulevard, my old nemesis).
So we have a great lunch on Venice and stroll around looking at all the weirdos, and finally it's D Day. We arrive at Enterprise, and I again, ask to hire a car. (NB. This really should not be a daily occurrence.) I manage to bargain the car down by about $100, while Chanel almost lands me in it quite a few times ("How much did your other car cost?" "I just told me friend that I'm giving you lessons, he asked me what would happen if you crashed again. I mean, errr, ever"). Luckily no one hears her, I get a car, and am driven by Ken, the Enterprise man, to another garage where they have my car. Upon arrival, his colleague tosses him a set of keys, Ken inspects them and says to me with a smile, "I think we may have just got an upgrade". No. No upgrade. Downgrade. Downgrade all the way.
We see the car and it's a shiny Nissan Altima. Behind it is a crappy beat up small white car.
"How much is that one?" I ask.
"We can't give you that, it's too beat up, my boss would kick my ass if I gave you that".
Chanel: "I don't think she really cares about how it looks, would it be cheaper if she had that?"
Apparently the price that he was giving me was already the lowest, and I now had an upgraded model. In anyone else's books that would be a result. In mine, it was just a bigger and more expensive car to destroy.
I finally get behind the wheel, with Chanel next to me, having buckled up as soon as she sat down. I've honestly never felt so panicked behind a car. I do have a phobia of motorways in England, having almost collided with some dick who decided to move into the slow lane as I was joining the fricking motorway, twat. But this was really terrifying. And there was more important aspects riding on it. If I crashed again, I don't think I could physically get behind a wheel again. Not only do I hurt myself emotionally but I also wreck someone else's car. And having Chanel in the car was another thing - if I hurt her that would be the worst.
We drove verrrry slowly onto the main road, then made a turn into the quieter roads so I could work on my spacial awareness, and of course, right turns. I felt so scared on edge, as any minute I was bracing myself for impact of metal against metal. But slowly and surely, I was driving, and I wasn't breaking any cars. It's a weird feeling to do something you are so used to doing but being so afraid. Our journey took us down Sunset Boulevard, and to face my demons (and also a necessity to get home) good old Santa Monica Boulevard. After a great dinner with Chanel, I drove myself home, parked the car, and went home.
It has now been four days since my crash(es) and three days since I got back behind the wheel again. And I have never been more proud of myself. To be honest, the thought of getting behind a wheel made me want to burst into tears and cry at the beginning, and makes me really anxious. I wouldn't be able to think straight as suddenly I was overcome with the fear of crashing. But it was so important for me to do this, and I am so grateful to Chanel for helping me, as I'm not sure if I would have been able to do this on my own.
I came to LA for meetings for my career, but I think the biggest lesson has come from this car saga. We're all confronted with things we are scared to do, and the fear is connected emotional, physical or both. But what makes us strong and drives us through is the determination to succeed, and put ourselves at risk to overcome the trials. I could have easily succumbed to fear and spent 5 hours a day catching the bus, or spending loads of money getting taxis everywhere. Truth be told, taxi fare and the cost of my (total) car hire may have worked out to be about the same. But for me this was a personal quest and it made me realise my own strength, and that is priceless.
I still feel very nervous when driving, and LA is NOT an easy place to drive in. Not only that, but I am on my own, going to meetings which could potentially change my life, and coping with the general daily responsibilities of life. But I've done it. And I'm still doing it. Every time I get behind the wheel and I feel scared, I tell myself I should be proud for feeling that way. Bambi has learnt how to walk.
Life will throw us unexpected lessons. Especially in the career that I have chosen, rejection and failure is the norm. But it is about overcoming these hurdles that makes us truly succeed, and better ourselves.
Even if I don't get one single offer of representation from this trip, I am so proud of myself for what I have achieved so far... shitting myself and getting back on it within 24 hours, and succeeding (thus far). Maybe that's not what I came here to do, but it's a lesson I have invaluably learnt.
So hopefully you have all read my last blog like good little diligent blog followers, and have concluded that I can't drive very well in LA. I would agree. Man, am I going to go nuts on English roads when I get back, give me a left hand drive any day.
But I was left in dilemma. I am in LA for another 9 days, I have over 10 meetings, some three a day, and LA is BIG. I mean, BIG. Taxis are very expensive as no one gets them here, and buses are a) slow and badly connected, to make a short journey that takes 20 mins in a car, you have to leave 2 hours for bus, b) you get the bus if your gross annual household income is $100.
My LA friends tell me I have to get a car. There is no other way round this. I had contemplated calling my parents and telling them that I had been involved in two car accidents within 10 minutes of driving, and seeing if they would pay for taxis for the duration of my stay. They're my parents, my safety is paramount, they'd agree of course.
So what does that mean? That means I give into my fear. Fear of driving in LA, fear of harming others and myself. I did intend my last post to be quite comical, but in reality, I wasn't injured, and it could have been a lot worse, had I not bumped two vehicles in very slow moving traffic and drove on the freeway, which was something I had intended to do. Thank god for small mercies.
If I had any intention of ever moving to LA, I'd have to face this fear and drive a fucking car on the right side of the fucking road. But I was terrified now of driving, and my body had now remembered the feeling of my car jumping and jolting, and the sound of crashing metal. And the feeling of panic and helplessness. The thought of getting in a car again made me feel physically cold and I could feel my heart rate rising.
My brilliant friend Chanel, an LA local, offered to take me to my first meeting on Friday and afterwards, get another rental car and teach me to drive LA style. It was great to see her for the first time in over a year, and I was so grateful for her driving me around that day. But at the back of my mind, I had this sickening feeling that at some point during the day, I'd have to get behind a wheel again and drive (down Santa Fucking Monica Boulevard, my old nemesis).
So we have a great lunch on Venice and stroll around looking at all the weirdos, and finally it's D Day. We arrive at Enterprise, and I again, ask to hire a car. (NB. This really should not be a daily occurrence.) I manage to bargain the car down by about $100, while Chanel almost lands me in it quite a few times ("How much did your other car cost?" "I just told me friend that I'm giving you lessons, he asked me what would happen if you crashed again. I mean, errr, ever"). Luckily no one hears her, I get a car, and am driven by Ken, the Enterprise man, to another garage where they have my car. Upon arrival, his colleague tosses him a set of keys, Ken inspects them and says to me with a smile, "I think we may have just got an upgrade". No. No upgrade. Downgrade. Downgrade all the way.
We see the car and it's a shiny Nissan Altima. Behind it is a crappy beat up small white car.
"How much is that one?" I ask.
"We can't give you that, it's too beat up, my boss would kick my ass if I gave you that".
Chanel: "I don't think she really cares about how it looks, would it be cheaper if she had that?"
Apparently the price that he was giving me was already the lowest, and I now had an upgraded model. In anyone else's books that would be a result. In mine, it was just a bigger and more expensive car to destroy.
I finally get behind the wheel, with Chanel next to me, having buckled up as soon as she sat down. I've honestly never felt so panicked behind a car. I do have a phobia of motorways in England, having almost collided with some dick who decided to move into the slow lane as I was joining the fricking motorway, twat. But this was really terrifying. And there was more important aspects riding on it. If I crashed again, I don't think I could physically get behind a wheel again. Not only do I hurt myself emotionally but I also wreck someone else's car. And having Chanel in the car was another thing - if I hurt her that would be the worst.
We drove verrrry slowly onto the main road, then made a turn into the quieter roads so I could work on my spacial awareness, and of course, right turns. I felt so scared on edge, as any minute I was bracing myself for impact of metal against metal. But slowly and surely, I was driving, and I wasn't breaking any cars. It's a weird feeling to do something you are so used to doing but being so afraid. Our journey took us down Sunset Boulevard, and to face my demons (and also a necessity to get home) good old Santa Monica Boulevard. After a great dinner with Chanel, I drove myself home, parked the car, and went home.
It has now been four days since my crash(es) and three days since I got back behind the wheel again. And I have never been more proud of myself. To be honest, the thought of getting behind a wheel made me want to burst into tears and cry at the beginning, and makes me really anxious. I wouldn't be able to think straight as suddenly I was overcome with the fear of crashing. But it was so important for me to do this, and I am so grateful to Chanel for helping me, as I'm not sure if I would have been able to do this on my own.
I came to LA for meetings for my career, but I think the biggest lesson has come from this car saga. We're all confronted with things we are scared to do, and the fear is connected emotional, physical or both. But what makes us strong and drives us through is the determination to succeed, and put ourselves at risk to overcome the trials. I could have easily succumbed to fear and spent 5 hours a day catching the bus, or spending loads of money getting taxis everywhere. Truth be told, taxi fare and the cost of my (total) car hire may have worked out to be about the same. But for me this was a personal quest and it made me realise my own strength, and that is priceless.
I still feel very nervous when driving, and LA is NOT an easy place to drive in. Not only that, but I am on my own, going to meetings which could potentially change my life, and coping with the general daily responsibilities of life. But I've done it. And I'm still doing it. Every time I get behind the wheel and I feel scared, I tell myself I should be proud for feeling that way. Bambi has learnt how to walk.
Life will throw us unexpected lessons. Especially in the career that I have chosen, rejection and failure is the norm. But it is about overcoming these hurdles that makes us truly succeed, and better ourselves.
Even if I don't get one single offer of representation from this trip, I am so proud of myself for what I have achieved so far... shitting myself and getting back on it within 24 hours, and succeeding (thus far). Maybe that's not what I came here to do, but it's a lesson I have invaluably learnt.