Lisa Catara - Actress

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 16, “The curse of ALMOST”

( *I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

________

“If you build it, they will come”

It's raining today here in Georgia. Per usual, I'm sitting at one of my favorite cafes writing this, to get out of my beautiful prison (aka the home I purchased here). I sit and listen to the voices around me, chatting and collaborating. I pay attention to what locals discuss, their views, their way of communication. It's definitely a place where many come to settle, slow down, and raise a family.

I want none of those things.

“The simple life” has never been for me. I want to grow, expand consciousness, see the world, talk to (lol, almost) everyone. I've come to realize that I may be the most “artsy fartsy” cultural thing here on the south side of the city. My skills, experiences, and interests are different than most people I meet (in general, not only here). I also enjoy being childless and the freedom to live my Gypsy life. Locals often remind me that I’m different. I know better than to bore them with Hollywood stuff. I get it. This is their world. And I am passing through.

As expected, my favorite cafes have become super busy and popular in the past year. Rents have increased all around (almost as much as CA was when I left), there's high-cost residential development everywhere (funny how that never stops), and plans for future studios to be built in surrounding areas. On paper, Georgia film production looks to have massive promise. Y’allywood (as the locals call it) has moved to the South, to stay.

So where’s all the Work?? 

BEHOLD! The top 8 studio heads and their current annual salaries . Entertainment journeymen are being devalued and greatly taken advantage of by the studios. Studios will spend 10′s of millions on CEO salaries, 100′s of millions on non-profitable streamers, and BILLIONS on debt-laden investments/ purchases, but claim there's no extra money to give raises to the writers who create all their content.  Last year, eight major studios CEOs made over $773,000,000. Meanwhile, many of the workers who write their shows can't afford their own rents or match their rising costs of living. It’s why the WGA (Writers Guild of America) is on strike. It is the same reason Sag-Aftra (the Talent union) and IATSE (the craftsmen/ laborers union) is preparing to do the same, and why other industry unions stand in solidarity.  What does this mean for journeymen like me? We have to ride out yet another storm. The last one- in 2007- lasted just over 3 months. While that doesn't seem like a significant amount of time to resolve concerns, in that time the entire industry shifted. Completely.

In the 16 years since the entertainment industry’s last strike, massive technological change has upended the television and movie business. Back then, Broadcast networks commanded substantial audiences, and cable channels were growing. The profitable superhero boom had begun for movie studios, and DVDs generated around $16 billion in annual sales. Now, television as we’ve known it is dying, movie studios are seeing poor ticket sales for dramas and comedies, and the DVD business is all but done with. Content today is streamed. It lives in a “cloud”. However, the formula studios use to pay Creators hasn’t changed. Streaming asks different (higher) demands in several ways and now pays fixed fees in lieu of the residuals which most of us thrive on.

Perhaps the most impactful change that no one seems to be talking about (and I'm repeating myself here in this blog) is that hedge fund and private equity moves the needle of Hollywood, and these companies are under pressure from Wall Street to cut costs. They have been and continue to do so on the backs of everyone creating their product. Established career journeymen like me are working twice as hard for about half what we used to earn. Now, we face extended unemployment, fighting alongside our fellow Unions for fair wages and working conditions. If that isn't enough to fight for, there is also the painful reality (that many Hollywood investors are especially excited for): the implementation of AI Technology to create “content”. That means potential for even more losses of jobs and revenue for us Creatives. And, in our opinions, loss of artistic integrity. Believe us, YOU WILL NOTICE.

At the end of 2019 I was making the most I’d made yet in my 20+ years as an Entertainment professional. I’d saved over the years to afford opportunities to invest in myself and my business, and take the occasional international trip to learn more about the world. 2020 and 2022 were absolute nightmares due to the Covid Pandemic and further changes in the Business of my industry. My savings are almost gone. I did everything right. And I’m struggling. I did everything right. And I’m losing. We all are.

Daily picket lines began Day One last week in front of studios in LA, NYC and wherever they can organize. I gotta give credit to the writers for having the most creative (and effective) picket signs, and I respect IATSE and SAG-AFTRA  members refusing to cross those picket lines, in Solidarity. We are all in the same fight for the same reasons. If only the public realized how much “say” they have in assisting our efforts, simply by how, where, and if  they spend their dollars. But us gosh darn “liberal, entitled Hollywood types...”

NO ONE WANTS A REBOOT.

We’re only on week two of this strike. The AMPTP (the producers) aren't budging yet. From their actions/ inaction, it seems they never had any intention of negotiating to begin with. In an attempt to “hit them where it hurts” (the wallet), Union workers are aiming to shut down as much production as possible. We apologize in advance for the return of reality TV and unscripted “content”. And we all could use your support to change things so that everyone can get back to work, making Magic!!!

Now, if you'll excuse me (*sigh), I have to sell some photography.

(If you care to support, find inspiration @ Catara_Photo_Art on Instagram)

       (To be continued...)

*PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 15, “Almost peed myself”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

If the goal is the finish line, the miles don't matter.

Here's a happy story for those still hanging on for one this Blog:

When I'd first embarked on my cross-country endeavor into Hollywood, after living in NY, my goal was to land one of the industries most coveted daytime soaps. Like millions, I’d watched General Hospital as a kid and throughout my youth. I became familiar with and invested in the series regulars characters and enjoyed popping in from time to time to see where the story had taken them from it’s residency in upstate New York.

At one point in time, the story literally took some of the cast to Rochester, New York, where I was in attendance at The Eastman School of Music. Two people at the conservatory were excited by this: myself and our head of costuming, a gorgeous soul named Alice Volonino. Apparently we shared the dream of working on the show. And Alice actually did it!  After approaching production, she wound up leaving Eastman to become a full time costumer for General Hospital, relocating to Hollywood, California. And life went on...

Flash to... I’d just landed in Atlanta, Georgia after relocating from my home of 19 years in Los Angeles when I got a very welcome phone call from an established stunt coordinator who worked on General Hospital, asking me to put an audition on tape for their legendary casting director. The irony of finally getting “The Call” in such a way, long after the start of my career, after I’d already moved, was laughable. Of course I did the audition and sent the tape off. AND I booked it, and hopped on a plane back to Los Angeles. By some random coincidence or fated planetary alignment, one of my friends happened to be selling her home in Burbank. The house was empty and she allowed me to stay while I worked in town. On top of this, I was able to use travel points to fly for free. Everything just seemed to line up, perfectly, to make things happen for me.

On set, the atmosphere was relaxed, professional, and enjoyable. My scenes/episodes were with none other than the Genie Francis (aka Laura, a total OG!!) and the incredible Michael E. Knight. Both talented and gracious humans. As we filmed, I felt right at Home. Finally. It had been years since I was bestowed with an actual character and dialogue, with the freedom to do what I do. And I owe that opportunity to Stunt Coordinator/ 2nd Unit Director Tim Davison, who recognized my theatrical background, and kept me in mind (for years) to find the right moment to include me.

But wait, there's more awesome...

At some point during filming, Tim remembered I’d graduated from Eastman and mentioned that “Alice, the costumer” was also from Rochester. “No way, I’ll have to say hello!” At wrap that day, I stopped in downstairs to ask whereabout I might find Alice. From the back of the room comes “That’s me”, and out walks a face that is familiar, though I cant place it. I say hello, explaining I had heard she was from Rochester, that I’d lived there a long while. Alice eyeballs me, curiously, stating “Wait. You look familiar”. Awkward anticipation. As she approached me, she adds “What school?”.  “Eastman”, I say. Without a pause, she states: “I worked at Eastman”. By now we are a couple steps from one another and the rest of the department crew is silent, watching our exchange. I tell Alice that I had a different last name then, Tarantino. Her eyes opened wide, and in the same moment, we both realize that we know each other!

Now I’ve given some great hugs in my life, but the one between me and Alice Volonino from Eastman was unbelievably validating, welcome, and just dang wonderful! Look at us now! Both “making it” in Hollywood, living our dreams! I honestly felt Divine guidance had brought me here, to this place, at this moment. A sign that things are gonna be A-Okay. It reinstated hope within me for my acting career after so many losses, near misses, and sacrifices.

Needless to say, the rest of our shoot passed far too quickly. I received incredible support from the cast and crew while on set. But two particular, unexpected comments left me feeling “seen”. The first was from casting director Mark Teschner (who dialed in from home, where he'd been watching dailies) complimenting me / my work (*amen). The second was at wrap, when the producer told me I should “really think of pursuing (acting)”, I was apparently “good at it”. LOL, I wanted to scream I AM AN ACTOR!  to let him know I'd been trying to claw, kick, and scream my way back into acting since the 2007 writers strike. Instead, I thanked him, grateful for the feedback, with the tiniest hope that I might be back (he did say “we have to have you back”). Alas, a year and a half later, that hasn't manifested, yet. They may have learned that I'd moved from CA. Dammit, this curse of ALMOST!

I can honestly say, after a nearly two years here in Georgia, I would return to Hollywood in a heartbeat for the right opportunity. But it would take a miracle to make that affordable now. I miss the food, the weather, and my medical team (in my brief but torturous experience, Atlanta has absolutely horrid medical care). I especially miss walking through the gates of the most iconic studios in the movie business. THAT is where I want to be. THAT is Home. THAT is where I belong.

For now, I must remain in the South and weather the storm of another pending (seemingly inevitable) Writers Strike and lingering lack of work as The BIZ continues to evolve and grow. Who knows how it will effect all of us journeymen. It never seems to be for the better. We just want to get back to work and begin recuperating loses of income due to pandemic shutdowns and studio mergers.

Anybody hiring?

       (To be continued...)

*PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 14, “The Book of (most) Fuckary”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

Fuckary: 1. Pertains to a person, situation (or place) that considered ridiculous or nonsensical · 2. An alternative to the word "Bullshit" · 3. Injustice

I don't know about you, but this post-pandemic world comes standard with a surmountable amount of unnecessary fuckary. Every simple service call I need to make is first met with a long prerecorded messages, followed by series of automated number-punching which inevitably lands me in the wrong place with someone who has a bad cell connection or bad WiFi and can not answer my question (or is ill equipped to). That's if they don't hang up on me when transferring/putting me on hold. I've spent entire days attempting to find proof of life in human form. From power to cell service to online orders. SO> MUCH> FUCKARY.

Here lie a partial list of the recent fuckaries to which I refer...

Tax Prep:

No one likes to prep or pay their taxes (it’s painful. Especially when you use your body as a battering ram for a living). Since moving from California to Georgia, I get to enjoy a surplus of extra fuckary. For one, I dissolved my old corporation and opened it anew in GA to cut ties clean from the greedy hands of the state of California. It took countless phone calls with each and every payroll company by which I’ve been paid over the last 19 years to make sure I’d now be paid royalties to me as a person, NOT my new corporation (which bears the same name). Despite assurances, these things are still not resolved a year and a half later. Additionally, I am now paying personal and corporate taxes in two states. On the day of my appointment with my CPA, we realized that one of the payroll company still failed to correct my information in their system, causing an unwarranted corporate tax form and more calls to get it corrected. The wait to receive this new- correct- document is rumored to be up to 12 weeks. I will have to file late and I will be charged by my CPA for the correction. Thanks California!

Investments:

Took me years to gain trust in investing my hard-earned dollars. Finally managed to find an investment broker to handle my “fortune” (ha!), and he called shortly after to say he's leaving the firm for another. Insisted that was good news and asked me to trek along. I checked them out and wasn't interested. Now what? The investment company randomly assigns me to another rep. Then another. Then another... urgh. I picked one and needed to vet him to be sure my cash is in competent hands. He checked out! Honestly, this one fuckary may turn out to be an upgrade. Whew! On to...

Mortgage:

My mortgage lender failed to pay my home insurance on time, resulting in the insurance carrier dropping me. I found another and signed, only to receive an apology from the former policy company for their mistake and a reinstatement of benefits. Okay, I canceled the new policy and waiting for their refund check to ad back to escrow. And bring my account back to green again. The check came. But didn't reflect the total refund. So I've spend countless hours, days, on hold... with the insurance broker trying to get a human being to help me fix things. Meanwhile the mortgage company which caused me the problem in the first place reevaluated my account, saw my escrow in the red (their fault), and assessed me at an additional $200/ month. I was told this would be remedied when the insurance check from the 2nd company was refunded and applied to the account. Well, I sent the partial refund (while attempting to get the rest) and asked for it to be applied to escrow as requested. Yesterday I was told someone applied the payment to principal instead. Long story shorter: My mortgage lender ran another early annual off site analysis, showing my property value increased. Now I'm paying a higher monthly amount based on increased value which I wouldn't have had to do until many months later when the annual analysis was scheduled. It’s all even more fucked than this, but I’ll end this section by stating I reported the mortgage lender. Ive no doubt nothing will come of it. I'm just paying more. Feels like fraud (turns out this is very common). You think this is nuts, wait’ll I tell you about...

Medical:

I've been seeing a Doctor at a local hospital in GA. He ordered a bevy of labs and tests based on symptoms I told him about and past records I brought with me. He had a suspicion about what was causing them and said we were going to look for it. Because of pandemic shutdowns and continued loss of work/income, I told him I would do the tests which are covered by my insurance. He checked and told me they were. So we proceeded. I have not stopped receiving bills since from the laboratory which processed my blood work, that was 9 months ago. Each bill comes with the same codes and dates of services but claims to be a new invoice. I've paid several in full, another comes. Insurance says some tests are not covered (yet, or at all), that they're awaiting an explanation of benefits. My doctor says he isn't responsible for how much or the way the laboratory charges, to call them. The laboratory says they're just billing what was ordered, to call insurance. Insurance says some invoices were flagged because they don't look right. There are questionable charges. Meanwhile, after all these evasive (and unbelievably expensive) tests, my doctor tells me he found what he was looking for! But not to worry about it because he doesn't think it's causing my symptoms. WHAT!!!! Why the fekkkk did he order these tests and labs? This goes on, around and around for many months. My insurance has been billed over $100,000 in services from this Doctor. Services I was told were covered. AND- it seems- have nothing to do with my symptoms.

At the suggestion from my plan provider, I filed a grievance against the doctor and was told not to pay any further bills until the situation was looked into. My hospital bills (which arrive between 4-8 months after services rendered) include all services rendered within the facility, including this Doctor. When I paid my last bill, the hospital applied payment in portions to each department, including this doctor, resulting in a balance due which was immediately reported to collections. Apparently no one is responsible for fixing this error. I’m now expected to pay the bill in full or suffer “consequences”. The amount I was reported for is under $200. After 9/11, I made sure my credit was perfect and that I owed no one for anything (even paid off my substantial student loans!). I pay bills early, every month. This situation reeks of a special kind of fuckary.

And, finally...

Work:

Remember what happened to me in 2007 due to the Writers Guild striking? How it all but ended my acting career? Well, there’s another writers Strike looming right now. In preparation for what will bring a shutdown on production, producers have been busy stockpiling content to air, planning for more reality programming and “real people” casting (we- actors- are not considered real people) in order to remain unscripted (without writers). Work has already been slow throughout 2022. Now, its eerily quiet in the Entertainment biz yet again. I was blessed to land a couple of projects recently. But my days were just cut due to production being behind schedule and wanting to wrap things up. A global pandemic shutdown wasn't enough. Now this. While I will be eligible in April, the nightmare which is Georgia Unemployment maxes out at an annual $4500 (CA is more then twice this). Who can survive on that? That’s about a month of bills for me. I could cancel my health insurance, I suppose (lol). Not much else to sacrifice and still remain relatively healthy.

*******

Is it me? No. Am I just complaining? No. Am I unreasonable? NO.

I have a feeling, many of you can relate. Some things have changed for the worse since this Pandemic began. Everything is challenging now. Simple communications aren't simple. Easy transactions, aren't easy. I long for the days people helped people. Not robots and AI. There are plenty of jobs for humans, but they don't pay livable wages. Not because the companies cant pay fair wages, but because they won’t. Investing in AI and tech is a write off. Investing (aka PAYING) people, isn’t. And those corporations want their multi-billion dollar profits. “Fuckary” everyone else.

Sigh. Back to our regularly scheduled program.

           (To be continued...)

*PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 13, “Almost in one piece”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

Welcome back Earth (?) people! I’ve been having a hard time writing lately. I can't find positive or inspirational things to write about. But I realized today that if I'm going to be honest, I have to be honest about my feelings as well. It’s challenging to maintain a positive disposition in these uncertain/ disturbing times. Everything is not okay. I am not, in fact, okay. Anyone else out there overwhelmed in this eye-opening, mind-numbing, post-pandemic nightmare of a time in our history? We’ve lost sight of some things.

“Wokeness isn't how you dress, how you identify, or who you Love.

  Woke is Aware”

Sometimes I see videos like one from tik tok recently of an elderly man on his balcony. The building he’s in is clearly on fire all around him, and the look on his face says it all: There's nowhere for him to go. There's nothing he can do to help himself. He's too old to jump, can't hold his breath to run through the fire, can't see well. He takes a big breath then lets it out, crosses his arms, and leans on the banister, looking down. Waiting. Thinking.

I can't not watch these videos. Even though the end result was Good Samaritans coming to his rescue, my heart dropped witnessing the moment of helplessness and "coming-to-terms” this man dealt with, alone. I saw/ felt my own fragility in him. No one should feel alone.

More and more, I'm reminded that I'm very much on my own. There's no one in my life who knows my habits or schedule. No one knows where I might be at any given moment of the day. Where- exactly- I live. My favorite things. I am just on my own. All responsibilities are mine. Every decision. Every idea. Every move I make. I am my Checks & Balances. It’s exhausting and boring. And it’s been this way for nearly two decades. I have these lucid dreams where I'm stuck on a balcony in a building that's on fire. Or underground in a place no one can hear me call from. And I realize, quite distinctly, that no one's coming for me.

No one is coming.

Tomorrow is February 8th. My birth date. Per usual, the date crept up quickly and I made no plans to do anything or include anyone. My mind has been preoccupied with getting taxes straightened out, finding work, figuring out a plan for continued (endless) medical care. In a perfect world (one where I had a healthy group of friends and my body didn't hurt 24/7), there would be dancing and celebration. I’d probably buy a pretty frock, do up my hair and face, and hit the town with my people (I would definitely have quality People). There would be smiles, laughter, and I’d feel safe to let my hair down. Instead, I spend birthdays alone, on my laptop, in a busy cafe somewhere, listening to others. And there will likely be a sign on the back on my laptop which reads:

It’s my Birthday. Say Hello! Tell me a Story.

Things which are challenging when you live in Hollywood and work in the Entertainment industry:

    * Making Appointments   * Real Friendships   * Dating    * Vacations          

            * Planning Social Stuff    * Classes   * Laundry   * Groceries

I haven't been in control of my schedule for more than 20 years. The BIZ has a way of holding you hostage, in anticipation of that next audition, that next gig, that potential opportunity just around the corner. And they are always coming! If you're not careful, you lose great gaps of your life “on hold” (not only to earn and further your career, but to keep those health benefits, after all). There is one surefire way to get a booking (entertainers, all in unison now...) BOOK A TRIP. It never fails! Just be unavailable and the Universe will provide. Like I keep saying, this business ain’t for everyone.

For so many reasons, it’s impossible to have a “normal life” as an Entertainment professional. I marvel at those who manage! Many who are determined to make it later wind up leaving the industry for a healthier Human experience. And because of this, those who remain often have transient relationships/ friendships. People come. People go. And global pandemics happen, scattering everyone all over the country and the globe.

Caught a clear reflection of my face in the glass while pumping gas today. Almost didn't recognize myself. There's an absence in the eyes. The corners of my mouth turn down. I look heavy, tired. And I know it's been this way for quite some time.

I honestly can't remember the last time I felt safe. Truly happy. Filled with energy. I've been fighting this uphill battle with my health for over a decade, without progress. Spend so much of my time, energy and money doing so. Doesn't seem to be a solution for my situation (yet). It's definitely changed my physical appearance: my skin (never had acne, until recently), my hair (it’s whitening, fast), my energy (what energy?), my weight (I’m 11 pounds thicker than before). Lol, no one notices. Most of my community “knows” me from social media posts, throwback photos, and they communicate via texts or DMs. When you’ve traditionally been a physically beautiful woman, the world (in passing, and through it’s vantage point from The Cloud) refuses to accept you any other way. So I handle it all quietly, alone. Every challenge. Every loss. Every obstacle. Who better?

I miss spontaneity and going dancing all night, and meeting up with friends for dinner, and being in a relationship. I couldn't fathom being in a relationship with anyone in the condition I'm in. Simply going out to eat is just too much of a challenge alone, but to add someone else... And intimacy? Forget about it. With how often I don't feel well, and how often I have to change plans because I'm feeling bloated (not sexy), a relationship is doomed for arguments and disappointments.

I was a physically beautiful, healthy woman for a while. The outside matched the inside (the part I value). My diet was clean, I never drank, smoked or did drugs. I meditated often, exercised regularly, ate organic food and had energy for days! In fact, my energy was infectious. Simply by walking in the room, I could shift it. That's how powerful I was! And I knew it. But I haven't been Her (me) for a while. And I miss Her so much.

Here’s a secret: I don't like living in Georgia. Love the people, like the seasons. But the food hurts me, the weather makes me ache more, I don't meet people I really connect with or have conversations I'm interested in which help me to grow. Not working due to pandemic conditions has been painfully isolating and cost me entire years of income as my industry shut down and still struggles to regain it’s momentum. I’ve worked hard for my money. So I can travel. So I can fix my health. Two things which can't happen currently.

It seems the best years of my life are flying by with little substance or joy. That’s  counterintuitive to who I am! But it’s what I see on my face. I want to go Home, wherever that is. I want to go back to California. But this was a one-way ticket. I can't afford to return as the rents have only increased and my income has not. Last year was one of the worst in 20 years for me, financially. Now, we are preparing for yet another Writers strike which will shut things down again. It’s scary. But hardly my first rodeo.

Who likes roller coasters?!!! Okay. Enough of all that.

    (To be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo  @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 12,   “Almost bit the Apple”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

“If I can make it There, I’ll make it Anywhere!”

It was suggested to me online that I revisit my journey in New York City leading up to my early career in music. NY has always been such a vibrant, exciting city, full of energy and so much culture. Understandably, it's enticing to hear about. I've been giving that a lot of thought because it's unhealthy to dwell in some of the events surrounding 9/11 and what ultimately ended my singing and Broadway aspirations. But I've also remembered countless individual experiences and conversations leading up to and during that time in my life which have been interesting to revisit.

To get to New York State initially was quite the undertaking and began my senior year of high school. Dr. Jim Bane, director of Band at Cleveland Heights High School, was a strong positive influence in my pursuing my music ambitions. Jim was incredibly supportive and encouraging of my musical pursuits. When I was accepted into Eastman, Jim allowed me to spend my lunch time, every day, in his office, dialing for scholarship applications and grants so that I could attend. Without his help, I surely would have gone to Baldwin Wallace in Ohio, which offered me a full ride (boy, was that a conversation with my parents, lol). It was also Jim Bane who introduced me to the Cleveland Youth Wind Symphony where I served as principal flutist for the three years. The CYWS was the symphony I later sang with, post 9-11, in Severance Hall. The last performance of my career before ultimately losing my voice.

In 1997 (whoa...!) I graduated from the distinguished Eastman School Of Music with a BM in Voice and began driving every week from Rochester to Manhattan for one hour lessons with the incredibly revered and talented John Mace and Richard Dorr. How I survived this year-plus, exhausting pilgrimage is beyond me. I suppose youthful determination was the key. But what wasn’t happening was my ability to find a permanent place to live in NYC.  Here I was, with opportunity in front of me, but no where to live in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I was marching all over Manhattan- on foot- looking for work with my self-manifested modeling portfolio and fashion designs (the ones I was penning during rehearsals) in hand. At some point, I briefly befriended a restaurant owner who was good friends with the then uber-popular fashion designer Elie Tahari. He got me a meeting with the designer. Wow!

I’ll never forget, after waiting nearly an hour for our meeting, the sight while sitting in Elie Tahari’s offices, when the elevator doors finally opened to Ellie with three of his staff flanking him, all on phones and scribbling things down, sweeping through the foyer and into a nearby room, filled with fabric bolts. I was called to go in and meet him, ready to show my fashion designs. Elie motioned for me to sit next to him as a fit model in a nice pair of denim jeans paced back and forth in front of us. I knew he was squeezing me in and I was happy for it. Then he asked for my book and leafed through my designs, still conducting business with his team. A few “mm hmms” later, he handed me back my book and stated “you’re an illustrator”. Now, granted my designs were more intricate than the modern, streamlined brand he was famous for, but I did fancy myself capable of designing what I penned. Elie asked me to stand and turn around for him. Said maybe he could use me as a fit model. But- fit as I was- I was only 5′5″. Oh well. A few years later, I’d begun framing and selling my fashion illustrations to private collectors and fashion enthusiasts. Thank you Elie! But I’d still love to do something with the thousands of original designs I’ve created which- currently- live in volumes, in boxes.

Through the restaurateur, I was also introduced to a statuesque and shapely transwoman named Octavia. She was sassy, very New York, and a hoot to behold. She invited me to what would have been my first drag show (don’t worry, I enjoyed many once I got to Hollywood), but I stopped spending time with them after the owner did a line of coke behind my back with his buddy. Not my scene.

Also in New York, I was interviewed at FHM Magazine as an emerging talent. I did my face and hair nice, put on a cute outfit and marched up to the building just as the door opened and an entourage of 13 or so poured out, surrounding another up and comer, Jennifer Lopez. When I got into the room, the interviewer was already making decisions to print her interview. He sat in front of me, half paying attention. The wall behind him displayed photos of The Spice Girls, tacked on it in a row. They would be printed in the next months publication. I was clearly “no one”. This is one of those memories which make me angry over missed time. I got a late start on my dreams. Had I broken free of that despicable, controlling boss years earlier, who knows if I would have been walking out of a major magazine interview, with an entourage, launching my own singing career/ empire.

I just found a note to myself entitled “the German” and giggled remembering this next part of my New York  experience. While subletting a room in a railway apartment on the upper West Side, my “roommate”- a fun, quirky voice over talent also named Lisa- and I shared a few interesting moments together wherever the third roommate subletted her room out to subsidize her portion of rent. On one occasion, the subleasee was a German man (maybe early 30′s) who was in the States on a grant to research Death. Some institution had bestowed financial resources upon this already odd and terse man so that he could sit bedside and watch people pass away, and involve himself in things which brought him closer to understanding Death and the Human condition as it deals with it’s own demise. Needless to say, I avoided conversations with the guy (as did Lisa 2.0). Sometimes, they were unavoidable, and there we're no witnesses.

One night, German dude caught me solo in the apartment and began to discuss his research. He told me of an art exhibit he’d attended where the entrance way was flanked by two naked people (a man and a woman). You couldn't enter without turning your body to the side. He enjoyed (too much) speculating about which way I might turn to enter, sizing me up and down to see how I might react to his inquiry. Then he mentioned another, earlier, exhibit by a controversial performance artist who publicized a disclaimer that whatever happened to her during the performance was her will. Upon a long table in the room were various items attendees could “use” to interact with her: scissors, rope, paint, a boa, various knives, tape, a loaded gun... The German declared he would enjoy using the knife on this artist, and explained his fascination with her Work, while moving uncomfortably closer to me and making slashing gestures at my torso with an imaginary knife. I did not move a single muscle. It was at this moment that Lisa 2.0 came home and walked into our living room- eyes wide- and asked “how’s it going?”. Both Lisa’s were thrilled the next night when The German called to say he wouldn’t be coming home because he was arrested for jumping a subway turnstile. Guess that’s legal in Europe.

(For the record, that Artist he adored was the infamous Marina Abramović. The work was “Rhythm 0″ which - I recall- ended with a loaded gun pointed at the artists head.)

Ahhhhhhh... I Love New York.

      (To be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo  @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 11: All, Mostly, but not pursuant to...

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

"Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent  disinclination to do so." ~Douglas Adams

Welcome back, Inquisitive Ones!!! Glad to have you here. This is an excellent time to address the BIG elephant in the room. The one which has those outside of the Entertainment Industry believing that all of us in The Biz are entitled, overpaid, spoiled, vocal Liberals. I understand why onlookers think this is so. Our loudest and most earning Name Talent always have a platform to give their 2c, and seems there’s always someone in the news over something... questionable. But the Names are practically a different industry than the rest of us. They do not represent the 94% of the cast, crew, tradespeople and skilled laborers who create content for the industry. WE do not see millions. Many don't see six figures. Journeymen actors, dancers, voice talent, stunt performers, etc, generally do not work every day of the year. There are gaps (often substantial ones) in between gigs, and absolutely no job security. When we do earn a gig or win an audition/ callback, 16-20 hour days are now the norm, and - depending on the market and location of your job- commutes can eke away at turnaround times and sleep/ life.

Over the years, our contracts are becoming whittled away by corporate greed and hedge fund accountability. And at least Sag-Aftra (which is the presiding union over my contacts and their negotiation) is powerless or unwilling to secure our fair "piece” of a growing pie. Each negotiation we seem to be mitigating loses over gains. After pandemic shutdowns in 2020, everyone is scrapping to find employment, working twice as heard for less earnings. And A-list, Oscar award-winning actors are being cast in every commercial and guest star role we used to be considered for. And on top of all of this are technological advancements (such as CGI and AI) which are being implemented in lieu of Human Talent, in every field.

I don’t know how anyone in my industry had the opportunity, time, or the energy to start a family considering our schedules and the extra expenses. For many of us, our benefits are tied to our jobs. The amount of hours/ dollars we work in any quarter could determine whether we and our families remain insured. I am grateful that I've never wanted children. It would be easy to attribute that to my upbringing, but the truth is I have simply never had the desire. It's never occurred to me and never been a priority. I don't get gooey-eyed when I'm around babies, I don't enjoy the idea of the responsibility. I simply don't want children, though I have mad respect for those who do. Especially those living in New York and Los Angeles as the costs of living and working in these markets is staggering.

These days, I find myself driving around different areas in and around Atlanta wondering what the h**l everyone does for their money? Why don't I have more? I'm exceedingly talented and professional. What am I missing? Everyone is buying up homes, renovating them, renting them out and making a profit, then reinvesting those earnings to avoid capital gains taxes. Where did they get the money to start with? It just reeks of privilege I've never had, something I was never taught. And because I lack the understanding, I never really get anywhere trying to figure it all out. Thankfully I had the foresight and discipline following 9/11 to save every penny I could, understanding the uncertainty of my journey. What took decades to save took one global Pandemic to to lose. I’ve been surviving off those savings.

Side note: Things which are more expensive if you’re single and living/working in Hollywood: Groceries (especially if you’re gluten-free, organic and health-savvy like me), rent (I live alone), internet and phone plans, travel, hotel stays, memberships to anything (as I can’t split costs with anyone), gas (I’m always driving), and- of course- taxes. I learned to become incredibly thrifty and savvy in my life, work and home. I do my own nails, hair and makeup, I cut my own hair and have for 30 years, I make my own art and sew my own pillows, drapery and linens too, I shop discount...the list is long. Things I do not have the luxury of buying are assistants, nutritionists, second cars or homes, private club memberships, name brand designer wears... all those things the general public assumes all Hollywood people are privileged with. While avocado toast and almond milk lattes may not break the bank, they are privileges to me. And they are delicious! 

The critics are wrong. You must have a strong constitution to succeed in my line of work. It is not for those who don't like/ tolerate long hours, uncertain environments, inclement weather, fighting for their paychecks, lost holidays and weekends, missed events and life moments, risk of their health and safety, the constant, relentless insecurity of work, and endless “rejection”. Sometimes it’s the usual rejection from an audition or interview, sometimes the rejection of your ideas. Lately, rejection also comes in the form of exhausting efforts to create content, only to have it scraped by production/ investors so it never sees an audience. Nothing is certain and you must fight and work past it all. All of this is before you consider the vulnerability of every one of us journeymen who rely on residual income (also known as “royalty pay”) which is contingent on a project airing and succeeding beyond its obligations to investors, the Stars, and their agents. All it takes is one Stars “bad behavior” to scrap a project and effect all of our incomes (we make only so much to begin with).

Social media bots and spammers love to single out those of us “under the line” (as we are called) because they know the general public wont back us up. We aren't famous. And since the public has no idea about us, they assume we are just like the A-listers. But news flash! There’s a good amount of us who don’t want Fame. And - contrary to what the media says- we all want to remain working! Then there’s the political spotlight constantly shone on all of us by those who use the industries "bad eggs” to paint all of us as the same. A way to distract the public from their own indiscretions. But the two industries- more often then not- work side by side. Ours is simply more under a microscope.

The bottom line is: if you don't work in Hollywood, you do not know how Hollywood works. Period.

       (To be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 10, “Almost Festive”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

Hiraeth (n.)  A homesickness for a home to which you cannot return,     which maybe never was (Welsh)

It’s Christmas Eve. An unusually frigid 20* here in Atlanta. I’m cafe-hopping from favorite spot to spot, trying to find the distraction of good energy to preoccupy myself in the laptop, writing and editing photos. Christmas music (old and new) is everywhere. All around me are friends and families, sharing beverages, pastries and plans for tomorrow together. Many flew in to celebrate with loved ones. Others are on their way out. Then there’s me: head down in my screen, writing this blog, secretly listening to everyone around me, wishing I could experience what they are. For real.

I haven't celebrated a holiday for many years. Too much struggling. Not many people in my Tribe to celebrate with. Painfully isolated by health issues. Disinterested in traveling to Cleveland and “celebrating” with the parents and siblings (it’s just not the same since my grandparents passed). Instead, I indulge in my own Christmas traditions (GOD, I wanna be traveling right now!!!). Cafe/coffee/writing, maybe a drive to grab food which I’ll eat in my car (I eat most meals in this manner), then jammies by 5pm, and a marathon of corny Hallmark Christmas movies and “streaming blah-blah” as I begin to prepare my taxes. What more could a gir..........er, woman, want?

Flashback: On my last Christmas abroad (in 2019), I was experiencing Madrid, Spain. Someone offered I take a walk to the Mercado for lunch. FANTASTIC recommendation!! It’s a tasty smorgasbord for picky, undecideds like me. Everywhere I travel, I indulge in local food, fall in love, then attempt to find the cuisine back in the States, in Los Angeles. In Spain it was the tapas (never found it), in France it was quiche (kinda found it) , Lisbon was red wine (found it!), and Cambodia it was Khao Soi, a delicious creamy yellow curry  dish with boiled and fried noodles. It would sound impossible that The Valley could have such a delicacy. Nevertheless, I searched. One day, after visiting my credit union, I looked up across the parking lot Id been  in nearly every other day for a year and there is was: A restaurant CALLED Khao Soi!!! Right in my back yard. And low and behold, the namesake was a featured menu item. SOLD!

Another tradition is to be kind to strangers. Okay, in all honesty, I practice this every day. But on Holidays, I try to do something kind for those who deserve it. Sometimes that's simply buying lunch for firemen & women, police officers, or nurses. Other times, it's noticing someone- like me- sitting alone at a restaurant/ cafe. I’ll often invite them to join me and share stories/ conversation. There’s so much to learn from each other. It’s a joy to listen and validate someone who may be feeling unheard and invisible. I know all too well what that feels like. So it’s a privilege to help lift their spirits. We never know the battles anyone else is facing. And we cannot know the expiration on our greatest gift: TIME.

George Bernard Shaw once wrote that “Youth... is wasted on the Young”. I never had a disrespect for my Time and Energy. As a child, I hardly hesitated to create, explore, pen, perform, sew, draw... to explore every aspect of my growing artistry. Though I understand fully what he meant.

When I was in elementary school (at Coventry Elementary, back in Cleveland), we had lots of group assemblies. One in particular left a strong impression on me. Our principal, a kind, 35-40-year-old tall, slightly overweight man with glasses, held up a clock for all of us to see. He asked us all to sit there and watch the clock in complete silence for one minute. It felt like a really long time back then! After a minute, he told us "that was just one minute of your Life. One minute can be a very long time. Never waste it!".

I never forgot that lesson.

I often struggle with the overwhelming accumulation of Time I’ve lost. Time I’ve wasted in unhealthy environments and with unhealthy people, as well as Time taken from me by such environments and people. This includes recovering from events beyond my control (9/11, writers strike, pandemic... all painful as hell to overcome, and accompanied by substantial financial loss). It’s easy to become angry now that my physical body is preventing me from living the life I’ve earned and desire. I dress for comfort, not fashion anymore. I seldom go out. I rarely make appearances. I'm quieter. I seldom seem to want to grab lunch or dinner with anyone. Not to mention physical changes, like my skin and face changing, my body always bloated and widening. I work constantly at curbing the disappointment, lest it should ever be projected elsewhere. I am not that person. Though I wonder all the time how on earth those who have been around me for years fail to notice any of these changes in my life. It may be as simple as they do not care. Hollywood, after all.

Something I learned in my 30′s:  Surround yourself with people whose faces light up when you walk in the room. Those who ultimately make you feel stronger, more possible, and more appreciated. Those who call to check in on you from time to time.

Those are your people. And in my Biz, they're precious.

   (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 9, “Almost Impossible”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

Roam. If you want to.

One thing California offers in abundance is sunshine and countless hiking trails. In the Hills, at Oceanside, up north in the canyons...everywhere. I indulged often, on foot and on hoof. Whenever and however the opportunity arose. Particularly in April when the gorgeous wildflowers bloom. The views are spectacular. And I was always aware of other creatures living in these areas (it’s their homes after all), but seldom saw more than a group of hares, some lizards, or an occasional rattler. But there was one resident who was rather famous in the area. Though seldom seen, he was loved and concerned for by many.

I woke this week to the devastating news that P-22 (Hollywood’s beloved bachelor Mountain Lion) had to be euthanized after being hit by an automobile. His injuries were substantial. P-22 taught the word so much about biodiversity and the importance of conservation. He lived his years a victim of human innovation, trapped between highways, alone. I think of him, traversing the Hollywood hills, day after day, searching for companionship in another of his kind. But finding none. It’s painful. And sad.

And I relate. Deeply.

If I'm honest, I've never had a HOME. A place I felt safe, where I breathed a sigh of relief upon walking through the door. Certainly not the home I grew up in. That deep desire to feel safe has caused so much inner conflict for me. Anything is possible when you feel safe. I’ve developed some laughable “bad habits” because of the insecurity in homestead over the course of my life. For instance, I am indecisive about certain things. NOT because I cant decide but because I can see infinite possibilities in most decisions. Where it comes to my home and design, I’ve been known to spend hours at a Home Goods, carefully laying out a design idea or artwork, staring at it for an hour (visualizing it in my space), then deciding not to purchase anything. Why? Because in the end, I still don't have a HOME. And- ultimately- I know I am designing for a place I don't love, which I’ll eventually be moving from. I broke my golden rule for ownership when I purchased my first home at the end of 2021: “Never own more than you can personally move yourself”. URGH.

I’ve moved over two dozen times since leaving Cleveland at the age of 17. The Artists life is that of a gypsy: constantly reinventing, replanting, rediscovering. But that’s not quite the reason for the constant uprooting. Several moves in NY were due to survival (escaping my abusive boss) and events beyond my control (9/11). In California, I hopped from apartment to apartment as my income increased, neighbors or landlords became intolerable, or rent became unreasonable. I’d found a terrific situation with a terrific landlord, just before relocating to GA in 2020. Spent a lot of time and energy decorating it, making it a “real home”, investing in it. Part of what forced my decision during pandemic to depart were my next door neighbor who suffered with dementia and screamed all day, and the new neighbors downstairs who smoked unfiltered cigarettes together on their terrace, making it impossible for me to get any fresh air inside my own unit. $1700/ month and I was never comfortable. More than 20 years of renting and I suddenly realized that no one ever taught me about finances or investing for the future. Thankfully I made my own decision to save everything I earned (in case sh*t). It’s helped the past couple of years, though not sure how much longer. I'd really hoped I'd be be traveling over the holidays this year. Seeing the world!

If you never had love, support or security as a child, there is only one person in the entire world who can give those things to you as an adult. YOU.

Holidays mean very little to me anymore since my grandparents passed. They were truly the glue which brought our family together. They were Love. Obligatory visitation and gifting with anyone makes me want to punch sea otters (and I love sea otters!). Rather then co-dependently suffering together, I much prefer to be traveling: Buying a stranger a coffee and chatting about their life in Eastern Europe, watching a Flamenco performance in an authentic Tablau, standing over the Mediterranean on a crystal clear day in Capri, enjoying my first Kao Soi in Cambodia with some strangers from across the globe, seeing another Wonder of the World, and photographing every moment of it ... this is what brings me Joy. I want to see, taste, hear, touch, experience everything, first-hand. My bucketlist is epic! Sadly this year, traveling wont be possible. I simply should not afford it as work remains uncertain and my health continues to suffer.

Flashback- The year was 2001, December, three days after Christmas. I was invited by the Lerner family to sing the National Anthem at Browns Stadium. Shortly after Al Lerner (team owner) had passed. It was below freezing, and I was wearing a bright turquoise overcoat and gloves. As I walked out of the tunnel- blinded by snow- onto the field, a hand emerged from the white dust, reaching for mine. It was Bernie Kosar, offering good vibes and gratitude for being there. I was touched. More so as I stood alone on the field as the Color Guard fell into formation behind me. I remember nothing else. Except that Cleveland WON that day. Cheers Al!

(To be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa: Pt 8, “Laughable... Almost”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

You're still thinking about it, aren't you? Why I haven't dated an 18 years. It does sound pretty incredulous, bereft of the story behind it. No, I’m not crazy or have unrealistic expectations. Well, I do NOW. And life is just too damn short for bad company, bad sex, bad coffee, or fake relationships . The funniest ignorant comments men make to me are that they're surprised “nobody scooped (me) up yet”. As if I would relinquish that decision or fall into the arms of any man who wanted me. As if I OWE that to someone because simply having standards isn't enough for me to remain single. I want and deserve to be attracted and inspired, too.  And honestly, I seldom meet someone who excites me in the ways I find attractive (intellectually, spiritually, and yes, physically).

Fathers / Daddies,

Hug your baby girls. As often as you can. If they don't learn what non-sexual touch is from you, they will have nothing to compare it by moving forward. Sex will feel like respect and appreciation when it's not.

      Sincerely,   A woman who learned this the hard way.

Once I moved to LA, I apparently developed attractions (and tolerances) to grown-ass man-children. My ex (yes, 18 years ago) had terrible mommy and daddy issues, was a pathological liar, and had at least three personalities (that I counted). He was also a kleptomaniac and stole a substantial amount of money from me (and a couple of his friends), just after cheating on me. Total package, obviously, lol. After that experience- which culminated in about a year of my life spinning out of control, dropping down to 105 lb because I just couldn't believe I didn't see signs of his illnesses- I eventually took a few lovers. But always unfulfilled and with unwarranted drama. One such arrangement lasted nearly seven years, on and very “off”. He was another (older) grown-ass man-child with serious Daddy issues. But wait! There’s more... He was also a narcissist, an over-compensatory control freak, and a very angry human who threatened to commit suicide every few months right about the time he knew I was going to leave him. But dang, if he didn't get the soft part of me that wanted to help him heal from his own trauma. Some people can't. So why did I stay?

Sex.  Literally, that's the reason. I was completely focused on my career and wasn't in a position to have a more committed or permanent relationship. Plus, he had an adorable little dog. It was- I thought- a mutually agreeable arrangement. But once he sexually and psychologically abused me, I was gone. Permanently. You get to a point in your life where you realize how valuable time is. When I say I no longer make time for bullshit, I mean it. That dude- by the way- later acquired (I've chosen this word on purpose) an industry award. Hollywood is full of - and too often celebrates- bullshit. And it’s hardly difficult to find in an industry that attracts hurt and broken people, looking to find themselves. Sadly, many believe what The Biz tells them is true. And others support those lies to further their own careers. I’ve witnessed many a colleague completely lose themselves, desperate to fill a gap in their lives. Few actually find the “Happily Ever After” of Hollywood success. And of those who do, there is most often a price.

There are 2 reasons people do things: 

               1) the desire to experience Pleasure,

               2) the need to avoid Pain

A few years ago, while still living in "The Valley” (CA), I’d frequent cafes (as I am right now- quel suprise) and edit photos for the books I self-published. Joan's on Third was a favorite stomping ground. At the time, one of my neighbors was (is) a famous name actor being dragged by the media (and rightfully so) for a slew of disgusting accusations which surfaced. He would deliberately position himself where I had to glance in his direction, then stare me down until I looked his way. He’d invite himself to join me, looking over my shoulder at what I was working on, lavishing compliments, trying to win my favor. Then- manically- complaining about everything and everyone. He wasn’t nervous, just pissed. As if consequences were so...like...annoying.  A few years later, He was back on the film grind with a new show and more in the pipeline. Everyone stopped talking about his indiscretions. This happens A LOT in Entertainment. The next public outrage comes along and the old one is forgotten. When I worked in public relations (damage control and marketing), we'd tell our clients that Time was a friend. For this reason.

Hollywood runs on false power and real control. Piss off the wrong player and you'll find your climb up the ladder is greased and missing rungs. To succeed you must - to some degree- be a “Team Player”. Not only where booking jobs is concerned, but out in the field. The general public has heard and become familiarized with some of the behind-the-scenes debauchery over time, but they really cannot grasp that its REAL, and how DEEP the rabbit hole goes.

In my early days in the Biz, I was invited to countless industry parties and events. Some, I actually went to. It was common (for me) to dance with celebs and share booths at exclusive clubs. There were also copious organized events which were more private, where celebs could “let their hair down”, away from the medias gaze. It was around midnight at one such party in The Hills when a large bouncer approached me and my host and explained that we were welcome to stay, but that the party was “going in a different direction”. I got it, immediately, and got up to leave. JUST as a certain celebrity’s naked ass went running up the stairs, chasing a bevy of young, star-struck, spandex-clad 20-somethings (something they were known to do). Lisa, OUT. I never believed I had to sell myself to achieve success. I had the “it factor” then, was talented, smart, and professional. Surely if I kept studying, auditioning and improving my craft, success would be inevitable.

I was wrong. Truth be told, playing the Game can be... helpful.

Everything I’ve accomplished has been done with my integrity intact. There were many opportunities to advance by other means. I couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Though through the years, I watched several colleagues chose to go the route of hotel meetings and “favors” to shortcut their careers forward. It often ended in tears, protests, pleas, and even blacklisting. I’ve lost at least a few colleagues to suicide or substance abuse along the way. If you don’t have solid people who care about you and keep you grounded, Hollywood is a dangerous playground.

La La Land gets a rep for being a meat market and playground for soulless opportunists and pedophiles. I wont pretend they aren't in the mix. But there are infinitely more good people than bad. Unfortunately, often bad ones are gate keepers and decision makers. It’s not as if depravity and abuse run rampant across the industry. It’s there, but you generally find it by looking for it. I learned to recognize trouble and mastered getting out of uncomfortable situations before they became confrontational / "icky”. Though not necessarily unscathed.

Case in point: I’ve worked in The Biz for nearly 20 years and have around 160 or so credits to my name. But you probably never heard about me until you read this Blog.

         (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

ALMOST LISA : Pt 7, “Almost left the Movie!”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

This week was our cast and crew screening for “Wakanda Forever”. Marvels latest and- by far- greatest blockbuster to date. An unprecedented and wildly successful franchise emphasizing black heroes and black leads. They did not need to include brown people in their success. But they CHOSE to. And I am profoundly humbled and happy for the inclusion in something so Magical.

I tried to get pretty. Getting dressed for events these days is painful. I used to enjoy getting dolled up, but now my body isn't my own, it does what it wants. None of the clothes I had fit well enough, but I managed to get creative and ...well, presentable. It’s a once in a lifetime experience, being a part of this team of talented filmmakers and collaborators. I was not missing it.

(I spent some time in harnesses working on the film. On the 1st or 2nd week, my colon swelled under the pressure and I had to secretly go to the urgent care on my one day off to get meds so I could continue to work the next 5 weeks. And about halfway through the cast screening, I felt familiar stomach cramps and chest pains. I’d been so careful on that morning and the night before not to eat or drink anything which might upset me. It didn't matter. Ironically, not being able to eat or drink much on our long days/ weeks/ months of filming proved to be helpful for me. No food, no bloat and pain! I could finally see my abs again)

Mid- screening, I shimmied out of my middle row seat (of course, best seats in the house!!) and walked around the lobby for 20 minutes. Then watched from the back of the theater awhile before I could rejoin my team. I made it through the celebration and red carpet photos (whew!), but regret not feeling well enough to dance all night afterwards with my people. I LOVE to dance!

“Success is being broken, bone-tired and worn out, but STILL showing up for battle.”

You know, that probability analyst was right. I am unbelievable. No wonder I intimidate others. I don't fit into any boxes. Not by my ethnicity, not by my career, not in my diet, my varied interests, nor by my lifestyle... I can't even be offended on social media when misogynists try and label me because I don't have trope-y labels or subscribe to most group ideologies. Alas. Additionally, I'm a natural leader simply because I GO DO stuff and can multitask well. So often others don't think to include me in things for the assumption that I'm not a “team player" or that I don't need any help. But, I am. And I do. Never had trouble finding friends and Tribe until I moved to Los Angeles. It’s a different kinda place. Relationships in The Biz are networking opportunities. In the absence of the community I crave, I just did stuff and experienced life solo. Though, full disclosure, I would really like to meet my someone now. I’m 47 and Ive been single the last 18 years.

This is usually where the men panic and ask “NO SEX FOR 18* YEARS?”. No. No relationship. In 18 years, Ive yet to meet anyone who sparks a light inside me or peaks my interest enough to want to spend more time with them. Physical attraction is not enough to grab my interest. I'm talking REAL intimacy. I know what I like, I’ve traveled a lot, I’ve taken risks and tried many things, I’ve rebuilt my life twice now and know who I am and what I stand for, I'm loyal and monogamous... and I can no longer tolerate anything less than authenticity, honesty, and integrity in a partner. Plus, life is too short for bad sex, fake connections and fake people. Anything not adding to your light is taking from it. That’s how energy works. 

Everything is easier when you have someone to go through life's challenges with and share Joys and thoughts with. I've never had that luxury. Now, my health keeps me isolated, I couldn't fathom getting into a relationship with all of my special considerations. I'm not myself. I haven't recognized myself for a decade. My focus remains staying employed.  My work is a beautiful distraction, and I need income.

I continue to send my resume and interview materials for work via any email I can get. In the past several months I’ve had a few calls for one-day gigs back in LA (not my local anymore and costs more to go than what I’d be making), and a couple of one-day gigs in new Orleans and North Carolina which required me driving to and from (14-16 hours round trip for either). Because I was on a waiting list for yet another Doctor, I had to pass.  Projects were shooting in Atlanta, I simply wasn't on them. Last week I received a booking on what seemed a good theatrical audition I’d put on tape. When I went to my fitting, the role had gone from substantial costar with dialog and a character name, to one line and a generic character name. It‘ll be a paycheck. Not work. Nothing for my reel. Not a career- booster. But the first job in seven months. It’s SURREAL. This all used to be much easier. Sometimes I have those typical dis-empowering thoughts of going back in time and “doing it all again”. But I wouldn't want to relive the most challenging parts of this  journey again.  I do, however, greatly miss the stage.

Making movies/TV and live performance share some similarities, but theater is Life for an actor. The energy is raw, magnetic, never stagnant. So many elements have to work together in unison, complementing and/or contradicting one another, in that environment. Magic doesn't begin when the curtain goes up. It happens long before. During rehearsals. In tech runs. While bonding with cast mates. I have great memories of these moments and reminders of why I loved performing on stage so much.

One moment in particular always comes rushing back when I think of my shortened stage career. After months of memorization, stage marking, wardrobe, and countless musical rehearsals, there comes a day when you step on stage and there is suddenly an orchestra where the piano reduction had been. That day is absolute MAGIC. I can remember well how the sound rose up underneath me, lifted me, surrounded me, moved through me, and ultimately carried my voice. There's really no other way to describe it then Euphoria. 

When I lost my voice, during/ after 9/11, I lost a valuable part of myself I’ve never been able to recover. And a part of my lifeline. When anyone hears of this loss, and tells me (kindly, but ignorantly) to “just sing again”, it’s painful. Voices can be lost and damaged, permanently. It happened to me. The constant reminder of what I want but cannot have creates dissonance within me, even decades later. Amplified- as to be expected- by the fact that it happened again with the Writers Guild Strike, and now again with this Pandemic. As tenacious as I am, I’m TIRED. BUT...

I don't believe that God would instill a superior talent and a bone deep desire to accomplish something without providing a Way.

      (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

ALMOST LISA : Pt 6, “Almost Peachy”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

“If you are uncertain which way to go, find what is the easiest. Then run in the opposite direction. “

As I write from my perch, numbing my brain with an americano and gluten free pastry (*sigh), I still can’t quite accept that I no longer live in LA. It’s been 14 months and I’m suddenly uncertain about my decision. It could be the difficulty I’ve had finding clean, organic food (a must for me). It’s likely that the south side of Atlanta has little to offer a world-traveling multifaceted free-thinking single artist woman like me (i.e. I'm bored). A huge part of it is that I’ve been  suddenly unemployed for months which makes having nothing to do that much more unnerving.

There were no guarantees I’d be able to migrate into a new town and get right to work in my industry. But I did!  I was relieved and thrilled to stay busy and earning. Where acting roles were smaller and less fulfilling (I'm learning that many roles are still cast from NYC and LA, or they go to “name talent”), stunt work in GA was challenging in new ways. Back in LA I frequented TV series, working a day two at a time on each gig. There were also commercials (though a dying opportunity which paid less and less under poor contracts and buyouts where residuals once were), and the many video games I collaborated on with companies like Treyarch and Activision over the years. Georgia was predominantly film. BIG film.

Like Los Angeles, things are spread out here. Unlike LA, traffic moves. An hour driving is an actual hour of driving, not time stuck in traffic. Among my first local gigs booked was six+ week run up on the North side of Atlanta on arguably one of the biggest and most highly anticipated Marvel films to date. Higher stakes = Greater expectations. It felt validating to be a part of a team, working toward excellence together. It gave me the false impression that I was going to be okay here. And, for 8 months, I was! Work was plentiful, local casting directors were sending regular auditions, I even purchased my first home in the middle of a major housing crisis (seriously, how does everyone have $100′s of thousands in cash to buy houses with!!). Not something I wanted to do, but seemingly a good idea given the amount of work in the pipeline for the State over the next few years, the new and the new expansion of film studios in the area... and the fact that this was a one-way ticket. I wouldn't be able to return to Los Angeles. I couldn't afford to. So using my unlimited artistic skills, I did what I could to make the home I didn’t want or love a beautiful sanctuary, filled with my own Creations.

In April, 2022. Just after wrap on a gig, my Mother and Father came to town to visit and stay in my house. While my mother visited California to see her cousin every year and therefore saw me about that often, my father couldn't handle long plane rides and never- in 18 years- visited me in any of the many apartments I lived in Los Angeles (thus, he never witnessed nor learned about my life there, my choices, my work, etc). This would be the first time my Dad- the Architect- would see my interior choices, my new art and photography, the town I lived in, etc. Up until then, we spoke every couple of weeks or so on the weekends together about the weather, the Browns, anything and everything vague. But never about my health.

My father doesn't like to hear or talk about anything negative. Mom will listen, but ultimately feels powerless so does nothing. I’d been trying for years to get them both involved in any of the nightmare I’ve endured (maybe help research, followup calls, search for answers) but they remained consistently non-participatory. So I had to go it alone in my health struggles, sitting in waiting rooms before an exam, hospital stays, listening to others chatting together or on the phone saying “I love you” to someone who cared about their wellness, or calling someone for a ride home. I didn't have anyone. My example of Love growing up was- again- less than ideal. But I believed that when you love someone, their wellness becomes your happiness and you choose to get involved. My family had their own version. Thus, I have always had difficulty writing my living will. Who would be responsible  on my behalf? They couldn't respect me or love me while I'm here (and really, barely knew me), would they respect my wishes when I’m gone? Every time I have a procedure or wind up hospitalized, I am again asked about these “plans”.

Five days with the parents at Casa Lisa, visiting art museums and gardens, having meals together, watching movies on TV. Acting like everything was perfectly normal with the occasional tolerance of their bickering with one another (normal). No personal questions. No asking about friends or if I was dating anyone. Never did. I played host and was happy to see them, but I wasn’t feeling great. I’d been in and out of the urgent care and hospital a bit since relocating, trying to build my team of healthcare specialists and “fix shit”. They weren't helping me yet, but all were good at ordering expensive tests and labs. On the third day, at 4am, I woke my dad up to drive with me to the hospital. No ignoring things now.

Whole lotta waiting in an ER room. My dad sat and chatted at me, watching me pace back and forth, breathing heavy, setting off my heart monitor every 15 minutes. He understood I was in pain. I explained this was what I’d been dealing with. He stayed calm and collected, worried. Back at the house, he and my mom entertained a brief conversation with me and allowed me to explain what I felt at this late in the game they'd understand. Both made promises to look into things and “make calls” when they got home to Cleveland. And the end of the week, I dropped them at the airport. Weeks went by. We returned to our usual BS weekend conversations. neither made any effort toward finding answers for me. I gave up they ever would.

“I've come to find the greatest, most loving & enlightened #souls are the ones who've endured the greatest, most profound darkness.”

The onset of two months of Christmas Music has begun. A constant reminder of how much I miss my grandparents and childhood traditions. An even bigger reminder (while surrounded by families sharing time together around me) that I have no one. No wonder I dislike the Holidays. They lack meaning and purpose. Had I known I’d stop working a long while after my parents visit, I would have planned another trip somewhere. My time isn't promised and I have so much on my bucket list. I'd began my own tradition of traveling over the Christmas and New Years holiday and would much rather be seeing the world, learning, and staying creative (my photography) than forced to visit people I'm barely connected to in a home which brought so much pain and disappointment in my youth.

Over the years I'd visited Paris, Amalfi, Rome, Thailand, Cambodia, Madrid and Barcelona, Lisbon... generally covering at least two countries in one trip. That expansion of consciousness speaks deeply to me. And I cherished these hard-earned opportunities right up until the 2020 pandemic. Now that the worst seems to have passed, I'm afraid to be out of town, spending money I'm not sure I can afford, while having been unemployed for so long, yet again. As a single, independent woman, I am always looking 10 steps and sometimes 10 years ahead. I have to. It’s painful watching days breeze by, still unemployed and lonesome, not challenged, not growing much, feeling like time is being wasted. There’s nothing I value more than my Time. And there really wasn’t much on my plate coming up. Nothing to look forward to. Except for...

    (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

ALMOST LISA : Pt 5, “Almost Role Model?”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

"I believe if you cannot find a Role Model, you must become one.”

The 2020 Covid Pandemic completely shut down Hollywood and much of the world, leaving many without work and income for over a year. A year without a paycheck in my industry meant no residuals (aka “royalties”) moving forward. And due to alleged (*ahem*) mismanagement of funds by our union (Sag-Aftra) and poor negotiations on our contracts, it was already more challenging then ever for members to secure employment and earn income in Entertainment. The Industry shutdown would prove devastating for many career professionals, already barely hanging on. I was not ready for another major financial challenge.

Nothing but time on our hands and nowhere to go, many preoccupied themselves with social media as a creative outlet.  For me, not much changed. I was already isolated and hyper-creative. I got busy sewing, singing, dancing, drawing, sharing anything and anything I made via social media. I made dresses and jackets, crooned show tunes (best I could), wrote scripts, redesigned my home, revamped business materials, shot photos (of myself, to be safe) and constantly worked out. Anything to evade the nonstop barrage of disinformation and scare tactics the news spun, daily.

The first few months were artistically productive (if not redundant). Most everything shut down. There were no doctors visits (thankfully, no emergencies either for me during this time), grocery shopping was planned and strategized, I saw no friends or colleagues except for what they posted online. I was unemployed and paying Los Angeles rent.

The few jobs I managed to book in 2020 were chaos as each production had its own safety protocols which changed daily as new information came in regarding transmission of the virus. One of my gigs required two extensive fittings via Zoom. A PA had to drop off the entirety of their wardrobe selects (three filled garment bags and two shopping bags) on my doorstep for me to try on- online- for the producers and director, then collect all of it afterward and put it all under a UV light. Another job required technology which was set-up outside my door and entrusted to me for the duration of the shoot in my own apartment, then collected and sanitized afterward. Days on actual sets were like vacations. Endless covid-testing left my nose raw, but I was thrilled for any opportunity to work and keep my health benefits.

Out of the blue, I received an email from a fellow Heights High School alumni asking if I would consider his support for the Cleveland Heights Alumni Association ‘s 2020 honoree ceremony. This was a surprise. I was fairly unrelatable and too busy to become popular in High School. I'd also been feeling terribly invisible for quite some time. That one or any of my colleagues remembered and was inspired by my life's successes enough to nominate me was touching. I've always been aware that my career choice is exciting and special. I just thought no one cared about the 96% of us who aren't famous and wealthy. As it turned out, I was voted in by my peers and the upcoming graduating student body. That got my attention.

Because I never had a role model or mentor growing up, because I figured everything out on my own, because we were not wealthy and I had to work and earn everything, because I passed on any support/ help which required/ forced me to compromise my integrity ... I value opportunity to uplift and inspire youth to achieve greatness in whatever life and career goals they hold. So in the middle of a pandemic (at the most personally and professionally challenging and uncertain time of my life) I had to suck it up and represent the values and tenacity I’d sworn to, which ultimately helped me achieve my Dreams. Alone, in my apartment, in a Zoom- broadcast ceremony, with my parents watching in Cleveland, I became a  2020 CH-UH Distinguished Alumni Hall of Famer. One of a long and impressive list of successful grads from my incredible, public Alma Matter.

____

Flashback: So many opportunities for me growing up were missed due to financial hardship and shortcomings. My family was far from wealthy. Lack and necessity compelled me to get a job at 14-15 and start earning for myself. I knew if I didn't, I’d have nothing. And I took pride in never asking my parents for help (they were handling enough). Problem was, I was more talented than I was privileged. Other kids took lessons, attended festivals, enrolled in special classes, got in the rooms where opportunities were, etc. I had to find- or create- my own.

One opportunity did find me after Eastman. I was in rehearsal in a theater in Manhattan, spending down-time sketching in my design book. I’d always loved fashion and had invented a style of designing on a template which allowed me to continuously pen ideas on a form. What started as doodles very quickly became 100′s, then 1000′s of original fashion designs (I had a lot of down time). At some point, my work caught the attention of the administrator of the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT) who admitted me to the school, purely on my illustrations and submission materials. I went to admissions week, excited to venture into yet another creative world I enjoyed, but because I already acquired a degree from another entity, I was denied housing and was already up to my eyeballs in student loans. So I could not attend. Instead, I made event dresses (using very limited sewing skills) for myself and friends, and some of my designs became intricate pen & ink illustrations to be collected by private art and fashion enthusiasts (and still are today). But I always think about the time I “almost” became a fashion designer.

____

Financial shortcoming remained a thorn in my side. No matter how hard I hustled or how many jobs I booked, being an actor in Hollywood is an expensive undertaking. Especially when you go it all alone, with no mentor or guidance. Especially when unprecedented circumstances start digging into your savings. It’d taken over 20 years to amass a couple of years savings, and one pandemic to all but take it away.

A couple of months after The Alumni ceremony, I made the incredibly difficult decision to move to Atlanta, Georgia. By now, the Entertainment industry had partially migrated out of Hollywood and established production in many other states. Georgia had seen major motion pictures for years by now. It was dubbed “Hollywood South” (or “Y’allywood” for the locals).

My decision wasn't purely an industry one, though there was no way I was going to abandon a career I’d built from the ground up, one I was made for.  I’d also exhausted both UCLA and Cedar Sinai’s medical staff to the point I could not find any “care” (save for a terrific hematologist and rheumatologist who tirelessly helped me monitor my condition and make referrals where they could). There was no way of knowing what the pandemic would bring moving forward or how I would continue (after 18 years) to thrive. I figured I’d save a little money (I was paying $1700/month for a one-bedroom in LA, gas was above $5.50/G at the time, both were rising) by moving to a more affordable location and reestablishing myself in a new community. The goal was to get back to work, keep my health benefits, maybe see my parents more, and get better. Despite not having a large Tribe or many close relationships, there was a voice in the back of my mind, telling me I was abandoning Hollywood and a lifestyle I loved. But get busy doing or get  busy- literally- dying, so I lightened my load and migrated back East.

      (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa - pt 4, "Almost Dead"

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

“What would you do if you knew you only had a finite amount of time to live? Why aren't you doing those things now?”

It was 2012 when I almost died after an industry UFC party. I left early, not feeling well (admittedly, I'd overindulged on foods I never consumed at home). By 10pm my stomach was bloated and in pain. I called a friend who had been at the party to ask what to do. I didn't have health insurance at that time (in my industry, you earn coverage by the hours worked and dollars earned. There hadn't been a ton of jobs as of late). He insisted I let him scoop me up and take me to Cedars Sinai, then worry about the bills later. I was terrified an ER visit would bankrupt me, but an hour later I was nauseous and starting to sweat. So I Acquiesced.

The good thing about having a former race car driver as a bestie is how fast they can navigate LA traffic to rescue you in an emergency. The swelling in my stomach was worsening and the pressure was painful. I managed to make it to the porch steps, locked up the house, and sunk to my knees, leaning over a plant in case I threw up. I heard the tires screech to a stop in the drive way, the door open, and footsteps, just as I passed out. As I came-to in the passenger seat, there was Jimmy, speeding me off to Cedars, sipping a hot beverage. I asked my friend “you stopped for coffee?”. Then passed out again.

At the hospital, over an hour passed and I could no longer bear the pressure on my internal organs. I leaned over to Jim and said I needed a bed, STAT. He took one look at me and was ON IT.  Suddenly the whole staff was rushing me into a room in a panic. Someone was talking to me. I heard the word “Dilauded” as a nurse fed a line into my arm. Just before I passed out again, the doctor asked my bestie to help me out of my clothes (nooooooo!). Jimmy told me years later that I’d turned gray.

The next morning around 5am I awakened to a Mount Rushmore of doctors, standing at the foot of my bed with pens and clipboards (two of them didn't look old enough to buy alcohol). I stayed in the hospital for 6 more days, given a battery of of expensive tests, then was discharged with my paperwork and a financial assistance application. But no explanation of what had happened. For the next ten years I suffered- silently- through the US Health Care system. Specialist after specialist. My digestion getting worse under all of their “expertise”.

There were countless days after I would have to work feeling less than optimal. Often hanging in a harness or crashing through things. Still wearing bikinis and lingerie in theatrical and print jobs. No matter what change of diet, supplementation or which specialist I saw, I could never stop my digestive organs from suddenly swelling or causing me grief (though I found a way to mitigate the extent of this by cutting things out. Like gluten and dairy- *sniff).  None of it made sense. I was an athlete most my life, never touched alcohol, cigarettes or drugs, ate organic and clean, avoided chemicals and pesticides... My body had been full of energy, fit, comfortable, sexual. Now, it was just a burden.

Health issues slowly isolated me from the communities I enjoyed spending time in. I never knew if I was going to feel well enough to make plans. I stopped dressing up. My wardrobe leaned in the favor of comfort, forgoing the usual fashion I loved (including fashion I designed and sewed. I’ll come back to that part later). Where before I never had to think about my physical body, now I could never escape it. The worst part was still being sexually objectified by men in the Biz while doing everything in my power to dress down and blend in. I was no longer able to enjoy and celebrate a body I’d only just come to love, appreciate and explore for myself. As time went on, I got worse. I could see the change in my face and in my confidence. But the Show must go on...

“Some of my greatest accomplishments in life are the result of self education, self discipline and tenacity. I've always believed that if you are passionate about something, you will find a way. You will learn. “

I learned early in life not to rely on others (my family taught me this first).  If I wanted something, I had to figure it out, alone. Thus, I’d taught myself portrait photography and began taking my own professional head shots. Then editing my own work reels. I even built my website from the ground up. Occasionally, I’d do some of these things for others. When I saw someone struggling financially, I’d help them for free. My intentions were always to either pick people up or leave them alone. I never wanted anyone to suffer the isolation and disappointment I’d come to identify with.

The following years were all work and not much play. I quickly found that saying “no” too many times to invites resulted in lack of further inclusion. For someone who never really fit in to begin with (and intimidated others, apparently), this was especially challenging. I yearned for a social life. Instead, I put all of my attention into my job and toward improving my health.

I was still, occasionally, booking theatrical roles. But stunt work had become a steady stream of income and opportunity for me. I'd established myself enough to be working regularly. As trust in my abilities grew, larger, more high-profile jobs came my way. I was thrilled. I earned it, the right way.

For a while, life was almost life again. In between gigs, I traveled every couple of years (as affordable) and continued to produce Art and Photography. My automotive work found its way into homes and offices, and I created a social media page to begin sharing my “eye” with the world. Creativity was certainly flowing. Savings were growing. My boat was in the river again, and the waters flowed.

In between auditions, gigs and bookings, I managed to write and produce a short form one-woman show (which I performed in Hollywood at the Broadwater Theater), and co-produced/ cast/ starred in a film which made the festival circuits, gaining several awards for cast and ensemble (I brought home a “Best Actress” award, just before taking off to Thailand and Cambodia on another photographic excursion). There were also stunt awards shows, red carpet events... the usual Hollywood to-do. Finally, I was dressing up and being seen. Only now, I was feeling bloated and tired, and I didn't want to!

In late 2019, I was in meetings with a fellow actor colleague and an Italian director he’d been collaborating with regarding a role in their feature. It was a good one. One I could get my artistic teeth into. Needless to say, I was excited for the inclusion. We’d hashed out the wardrobe and location issues and set dates to film. Then, something incredulous happened.

        (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa : Pt 3 “Almost Superstar”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

"Do that one thing that makes you feel the most vulnerable and uncomfortable. Because that is the space where you actually figure out who you are"

Months passed without work as the Writers Strike all but shut down production across Hollywood. Now, without any agency behind me, my momentum stopped. Where I’d been booking alongside name talent in reputable roles, I was only finding employment via commercial and print work (having begun a modelling career at the ripe old age of 28, that window was closing, quickly). I attempted to reintegrate into background jobs, but the competition was fierce. Everyone was struggling.

Just before my NBC stint, I began training with a group of fellow performers in a local gym. Our workouts were unique as the class was comprised of athletes and stunt performers. I came to enjoy these sessions and the community. Over time, I found myself learning boxing, martial arts, fights and falls, gymnastics, driving, tactical... There was a never ending amount of skills to be learned. When theatrical work came to a grinding halt, there was time to devote to these sessions and improve. A year later, I landed my first contract stunt jobs. One on a TV show, the other a doubling job, driving for a commercial featuring Jennifer Lopez.

Flashback: Back in NYC, I'd attempted to venture into the world of pop. My degree from Eastman (being coveted and revered) was somewhat a calling card for interviews and auditions. On one such occasion, I remember walking into the offices of FHM Magazine, just as Jennifer Lopez was exiting with an entourage of at least 13 people alongside her. One of us won that interview. It wasn't me. I was on Jlo's heels a bit at the beginning of my career. She always seemed to be two steps in front of me. Now, I was on the same set, doubling her. And each time I did, the sensation was that I was standing on the outside, watching someone else live my dreams.

After a few such jobs, as coordinators began to acknowledge my skills and trust me more, these stunt opportunities broadened and became more frequent. I was earning a solid (though modest) income again. As much as I enjoyed being on set, painting these scripts with “physical acting”, it never replaced the desire or passion I had for acting. I craved that energy and connection. But the business had changed. You Tube stars and influencers were “acting” in guest stars and costars. Hedge fund money and private equity began to fund and float projects. Production became “content”. Talent became “stocks” and investment opportunities. The jobs I booked were smaller, though frequent. I relied on these costars, stunt gigs and even modelling/ print work to keep me industry-relevant. It felt like I was rolling a tractor tire straight uphill most of the time. I was tired, physically and spiritually. But I was in the Game.

In order to have an outlet for displaced creative energy (I'd turned so many into vocations already) I picked up a new creative hobby. A spontaneous purchase of a Nikon DSLR camera led to endless opportunity to explore the world I saw on a regular basis with different perspective. To reinvent my reality and find beauty in everything, even in broken things. As with anything creative, I quickly excelled and soon adapted a trademark style to my work. Specifically with cars.

My automotive photography offered a new, artistic perspective which lead to countless car shows and commissions for personal and corporate collectors. Including a couple of magazine covers for the president of an automotive club of which I’d become an honorary member. But it wasn't just cars which held my photographic interests. I branched out to other subject mater and was inspired to take my first ever vacation (those are trips you take for no reason other than to travel and explore a new part of the world. Crazy, I know. I’d never allowed myself to rest. It was time).

In May of 2014, I traveled all the way to the other side of the planet to land on a postage stamp (95 miles wide) in the middle of the Indian Ocean. My intention was to shift perspective, see something beautiful and rest my mind. And there was plenty to distract me on the small island. On one perfectly clear day, I sat on top of a mountain, overlooking a volcano, accompanied by a guide who spoke English and smoked Camel cigarettes. He explained to me about Hinduism and the beliefs of Balinese people which were - unsurprisingly- in line with my own. I quickly became inspired by Bali’s magic, its people and its culture. Before I knew it, I’d documented the entirely of my trip in photographs. Later, I would organize these images into an educational travel book and self publish it for my parents, so they could experience a part of that journey. Today, I have many of these self-published books of my photographic art and research from the places I’ve visited. And a growing bucket list of places I’ve yet to see (while I can).

I returned to the States with renewed appreciation and focus, continuing to establish myself as a working actress (and stunt woman) across multiple creative mediums, earning a positive reputation with casting directors and constantly working on my crafts. But no matter what I did, I could never seem to regain the momentum I had prior to the strike. It haunted me. I tried everything I could think of: new acting classes with specific instructors, networking events, lending my time and effort to others film projects, producing writing and casting my own... There was never traction. And every year, more and more new prospective talent landed in Los Angeles with Hollywood Dreams of their own. The pool was crowded. My jobs now now leaned more in favor of stunt work and stunt acting roles which were generally cast via stunt coordinators with approval by casting. Not the other way around. So now I was not only auditioning against name talent, but stunt people who could “do dialog”. If you weren't known or favorited by the stunt coordinator, your chances of getting those auditions were slim, not matter how suited for the role you are.

I was constantly close to moving the needle forward, but too often a 2nd choice. It was a never-ending string of “Almosts”.

(to be continued)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa- Pt 2, “Almost Musician”

*I retain all rights to my photography and story, story details, biographical information, fashion designs, art work, and anything and everything I have posted which is my own creation*)

Just settled in to write today at another cafe, this time in Trilith Studios in Atlanta, GA (I’ll eventually get to how I got here). I like the owners, a humble and kind wife/husband team who make mean pastries (alas, I'm gluten-free. I'm part Italian. WHY GOD, WHY?! ). Recently, I asked if I could flood their tall, bare white walls with my art and photography. Today, I'm enjoying this collaboration, the coffee, the view, and the tiniest feeling of community. What better environment to continue penning my story?

“Failure is not the end of the world. Trip, fall, face plant… But throw up a jazz hand and carry-on! “

So... 9/11 changed many lives. While mine was spared (I went uptown to sign a work contract, missing breakfast in tower 2 that morning), my Broadway dreams ended. People were afraid to patron the theaters which suffered greatly for the lack of attendance (as did the Artists). As time progressed, top billed name actresses were cast to play roles once reserved for trained singer/ dancers. There was no room for a newbie like me. I had nowhere to live, no other friends in the city, no job security... I needed to figure out my next move, fast.

In a series of random and unrelated events, I was introduced to a producer in Hollywood, CA who encouraged me to jump coasts to try TV and film and gave me the name of what he felt was a reputable acting class to get started. At first, I laughed. I was a city girl. I loved fine and performing Arts. I needed culture! California was surfing and camping (so I thought). I didn't see myself fitting in. I also didn't see myself surviving a New York winter, homeless. So I made the difficult decision to drive cross country and rebuild my life in new, unknown territory. But first, a stop in Cleveland for a couple off nights to appease my parents. They knew nothing of what happened to me in NYC during the attacks. Only that I decided to shift focus. And they never asked. 

I am 16 in the photo above, working my first job in Little Italy, Cleveland. My Grandparents were proud of this. They were proud and supportive of everything and everyone in the family. And they seemed to make every concert and special event I had (there were many), including my graduation from Eastman. Somehow these two stayed madly in love their entire marriage. They were truly the glue which kept our family together. Outside of our house,  the times I heard my parents laugh and saw them smile most was at my grandparents house. Two of the Tarantino Brothers built their own homes, side-by-side, in Euclid, Ohio where they raised their children. Every Christmas, we’d enjoy a family dinner and homemade pastries, then the families would swap houses and repeat. It was magic. When my grandmother passed, my grandfather passed a year later of a broken heart. And my father was never quite the same.

My parents are both incredibly smart and gifted. My father is a talented Architect. Mom was a teacher (until she had me), then worked for a doctor at one of Cleveland's top medical facilities. Great people, compassionate. They never really “parented” me. They were supportive and showed up for the many things I did. But seldom asked questions. They didn't teach life stuff or share personal experiences. Never spoke to me about boys. Didn’t talk me in or out of my decisions. I kinda just did my thing. If I got it wrong, I got the scowl of disapproval and silence. I think they were overwhelmed (three kids). Likewise, I opted to never share anything negative or challenging with them (the environment I grew up in was negative enough). To this day, they know nothing about most of my struggles and challenges, I spared them. It is exceedingly challenging to go through life the way I have with no foundation of family and safety to “hold” me (likely why I'm writing about it all now). In order to stay healthy and thrive, I always knew I would need to leave the nest. With my father staring stoic in the driveway, I pulled the car out onto the street, waved, and began the three day trek to California. Dad watched the until the car disappeared from view.

________

Sidebar. I spend a lot of time in cafes, sipping Joe or noshing, head down,  writing or editing. I don’t have people (or someone) to spend time with, thus I’ve always enjoyed opportunity to connect with strangers and share stories (I do this all the time, anywhere in the world. So if you see me, please say hello!).  I have a lot of photography, poetry, scripts, and art now. I’ll tell you the story about how photography entered my life later.  Anyways...

________

“Sometimes everything you want (everything which makes you happy) is on the other side of Fear”

If you've never been a brown woman traveling solo through the South of North America with Yankee plates, it'll certainly keep you on your toes. Interestingly, I've never had a problem dealing with others when traveling (not even in the Favela of Brazil). Most all dissonance I've received in my life was from colleagues and competitive “friends”. It's interesting to excel at communication with powerful decision makers at a very high level, but constantly be misunderstood by peers and those of lesser understanding and/or experience. Hollywood was about to teach me a few things regarding trust, friendships, opportunity. And a lot about myself.

In February 2005, I arrived in sunny California, mid-monsoon (exaggerating), struggling to find my way to The San Fernando Valley while unable to see ten inches in front of me. That year, several “Hollywood Hills” houses slid off their foundations, wrecked by flooding.  The new environment and lack of connection to a brand new city and life might have intimidated me. But I was focused. Somehow I managed to hear about a background casting company for television and film and immediately got registered. Then called every day to remain employed as a background artist until I earned my Screen Actors Guild card, got an agent, and enrolled in acting classes. It felt like a proverbial foot in the door.

Suddenly, my life regained purpose. There was movement. I was in Hollywood, working consistently on TV and film sets, booking commercials & print work, and spokesperson gigs for companies and products (a forte which kept me busy). I was on the red carpets (at this time more often interviewing, not interviewed), and establishing myself with casting directors. My energy was endless. Every win encouraged and inspired me to keep moving, keep auditioning and interviewing, keep networking.

The resume was growing, but I was hardly “blending in”. When you're talented, intelligent and you look like THIS...

...it’s unbelievably challenging to succeed past the gatekeepers who expect favors in exchange for your progress. It was more than just the (sadly) common and expected casting couch, or the inappropriate producer/ AD/ director/ lead actor... in the way. I found I could do absolutely nothing and still be found “difficult”.

There were times on set I would be asked by the 1st AD or producer to be tucked into the back of a crowd so-as not to intimidate or distract a name talent on the show. One actress had me removed from set and asked I not be hired on her show again.  I learned quickly that shrinking to spare the insecurities of others was not a forte of mine. So I committed effort to booking roles for myself. And I did.

It never occurred to me that I wasn't as deserving of opportunity as the celebrities I often worked with. I felt at home in those moments. But I did not welcome the ongoing assault of sexual objectification, manipulation and even blatant threats to derail my success simply for saying 'no” to decision-makers. I can affirm from the inside of the business that those “casting couches” and predatory behavior are real at all levels and departments in the industry. I can also confirm that saying “NO” makes everything more challenging. My career success was modest for it. But I take pride in knowing everything I've earned was done so by talent and professionalism. I had bounced back from 9/11, losing my first love (music), overcoming (brief) homelessness, and now established myself as an actress, working in Hollywood. Then I got the sign I was waiting for that I made the right choice and things were going to be alright. I booked something career-changing.

By 2007 I'd come close several times to booking major roles and recurring characters on TV shows. I was frustrated, but motivated by continued invitations to audition for the top casting directors. Then I got a good one! I landed a guest star on an NBC TV show alongside a few established name actors in a role which was expanded- just for me- based on the quality of my callback. That kind of trust makes your chest swell. It was validation. I earned it. It was a “Welcome Mat”. I arrived to set prepared for the week of filming and ready to assure producers they'd made the right choice.

The popular sitcom filmed all week in studio, then that Friday in front of a live audience (as a stage performer, I was in my element). We walked through rehearsals, marked things for camera and director, and got to know each other as cast. I was working primarily with #1 on the call sheet, a brilliant physical actor who was unexpectedly supportive of me as an emerging talent. He offered a solid piece of professional advice I've carried with me ever since: “Own The Room”.

"Some people show off their beauty because they want the world to see it. Others hide their beauty because they want the world to see something else"

That Thursday the execs rolled through to watch our dress rehearsal. Afterward I was pulled aside with accolades and a welcome I'd thought was the normal Hollywood deal. At their suggestion, I made plans to “discuss my future” with the casting director that following Monday. That night, when I returned to my dressing room, there was a hand-written note slid under my door with one word on it: “Dinner?”. Instant panic. Am I going to lose my job if I say “No”? What do I do? I don't want to create problems with anyone. I quietly grabbed my things and went home.

The next day was the live audience taping. I was a little on edge wondering where the note came from (I had my suspicions), but chose to behave as if I never received it. The show was a success, we took our bows, I thanked the director and cast and went home on a performance high. That Monday I kept my appointment with casting who offered a short list of larger agents to interview with. This was- I thought- a very good sign. So I interviewed with the agencies, gave it week to consider, then selected who I felt was the best match. When I called to speak with the head of the agency she apologetically explained that the WGA (Writers Guild) was about to strike and that we would have to reconvene in a few months. Well, a few months turned into 5, then 6, my calls and emails to the casting agent suddenly went un-responded to. I was forgotten and- now- unrepresented. The strike changed the career trajectory for so many like me. After how hard I fought and studied to make it this far, I was completely deflated for the second time in my life. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

I was ALMOST a Success.

        (to be continued...)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Almost Lisa - Pt 1, “The Introduction”

Greetings reader.

I never introduced myself here in the Blog-osphere. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be revisiting the page to fully share my Journeys. But- like everything- there is a season for every moment. And I’m compelled to try because I have AN AMAZING non-story and nowhere to place all of the energy welling inside me. Where do I even begin to pen everything this late in the game? How do I explain the “almosts”? My life is full of them. If you love happy endings, this is definitely NOT the blog you're looking for. But it's ...interesting.

Share your journey. You might reach someone. Encourage them. Maybe help them avoid the pain you have experienced. Or better yet, lift them up to a expectation higher than they ever have fathomed they would reach.

At this moment, I’m sitting in a cafe near Atlanta, GA (somewhere I’d never conceived living), attempting to rebuild my life and career (what’s left of them) a third time. This gets harder the older and more stubborn you get, no matter how tenacious. Believe me, my tenacity has been challenged frequently. Par for the course when you pursue a career in the Arts & Entertainment industry. Something which chose me from birth.

Maybe no one ever reads this blog, but at least I’ll leave something behind. A stamp to say I was almost here. I was “Almost Lisa”.

___

My name - My REAL name- is Lisa Tarantino. I was born in Cleveland, Ohio into a lower middle class family by my (non-practicing) Jewish mother and (non-practicing) Catholic Father, both of mixed ethnicity. The youngest of three children, I was likely the one-too-many. We were not a wealthy bunch. I can imagine how stressful this was for my parents. I also remember every detail of the household I grew up in where we never discussed anything or ate meals together, where everyone communicated by yelling at one another. But I wasn't built this way. My heart- my Love- was huge and efforts to show my family were constantly deflected and unreciprocated. Disagreement (anger, blame, resentment) became the consistent example of “Love” I witnessed. In order to evade constant discourse, I hid in my room, creating the Beauty I wished to find out in the world to replace the ugly just outside my bedroom door.

Even in my early 20′s I was smart, witty, compassionate, and had that “it factor”. When I walked in a room, you knew I was there. This too often intimidated others or worse, attracted those who sought to control me. It was at this time that a probability analyst considered my attributes, shook his head, and surmised my likeliness of existence to be a zero. It was also at this age when I was first diagnosed with Creative Genius, something which isolated me from other kids and created endless boredom in school and life. And while I was constantly silenced and talked over at Home, I created my own language of writing, painting, sewing, singing... in order to communicate, to be “heard”. This led to music lessons which led to performing in school bands, orchestras, choruses, etc. In my senior year, I was accepted into the prestigious Eastman School of Music in New York. Which we couldn't afford.

“Fathers / Daddies, Hug your baby girls. As often as you can. If they don't learn what non-sexual touch is from you,

they will have nothing to compare it by moving forward. Sex will feel like respect and appreciation when it's not.   Sincerely,        A woman who learned this the hard way”

You may have noticed how quickly I breezed through those early years. How I've evaded any discussion about boys. Well, for one, I was a tomboy more interested in sports and events with the guys than dating. Also, unfortunately for me, I was a pretty girl. Something I never valued growing up, which created nonstop unwanted and unwarranted affection and attention from the opposite sex. Specifically men (see additional Blog, “Me Too Many”). The amount of sexual harassment and objectification I received as a child and teen was offensive, borderline criminal, scarring. And since I was never taught boundaries and self-worth by my parents, I often found myself in very uncomfortable situations with men/ boys I thought were trustworthy. Maybe my parents believed I’d learn life lessons by osmosis (watching my sisters). I didn't. I learned from bad male behavior. Unfortunately they weren't only outside of my home.

In my late teens and into college, my Dad took on a business partner who all but lived in our home, with free access to come and go as he pleased. He creeped all of the women out. But my Dad wouldn't listen to anything negative about Steve. While Steve never succeeded in molesting me, he absolutely tried. I don’t know if he did with my sisters, we never became close due to our upbringing. At that time, we were all prisoners in our “home”. I could not wait to leave Cleveland and get out of that house. College was a blessing and I fought like hell to get the grants and loans I needed to attend, never looking back. The least privileged in my class to graduate, but I did. Broadway here I come! There was no stopping me. So I thought.

A couple years before I graduated from Eastman, I got involved in a State fundraising event which, by year 6, I was deeply hands-on involved in. At the helm of these annual events was the "Chairman” (even now, I have trouble taking that title seriously) of a corporation which pretended to act as an entertainment manager, of which I was a “client” (I was noticeably talented in unique ways, well-spoken, put-together. It attracted a certain energy and curiosity). The empty promises of career contacts and interviews the Chairman couldn't make (he was a fraud) coupled with my commitment to the charities we helped, the 100′s of corporations donating and corporate heads in attendance at these annual fundraisers, kept me hostage for years, delaying personal career progress. I was not his only victim. He was a dangerous, manipulative pathological liar. Knew just what to say and when to keep just enough hope inside me alive for a “big break” which was always just about to happen for me. Through surmounting event responsibilities, I came to learn the Chairman was  seemingly deriving his entire annual salary from our fundraising efforts. When I confronted him the first few times, he towered his bloated 6′1″ frame over me and barked in my face, threatening me. The Last time, he punched through a wall, inches from my face. The next day I bought a burner cellphone, closed shop, rented a U-Haul, packed my things and left in the middle of the night, to escape. It was years later that he finally stopped trying to threaten and harass me. I’d give anything to get those crucial post-university years back. If I’d had a family unit, it wouldn't have taken so long to get OUT. But eventually, I did succeed.

During these years, an “easy” outlet for me was modeling and print work. I didn't have the cash to spend on a professional shoot to build my book. So I learned  to do my hair, makeup, wardrobe, backdrop, composition and editing... then sent the composites to various companies and agencies in an attempt to secure employment. Astonishingly, several responded. But it was something else which helped me gain back my independence.

While still in Rochester, NY, I had been accepted into a very prestigious vocal studio in NYC to retrain from opera to Broadway. But I couldn't afford to live in the city yet and the "Chairman” conveniently never paid me promised wages to make my efforts any easier. So once a week, I would drive from Rochester NY, through the Catskills, to the Metro North railway, then down the line, into Grand Central, and across town to the upper west side of NYC for a one hour vocal lesson with the two of the loveliest vocal Grandmasters (Richard Dorr and John Mace) in the Biz, then hightail all the way back to Rochester to slave over that State Event the rest of the week. I did this- come rain, blizzard, and falling asleep behind the wheel- many times. For 56 weeks, straight. 

Eventually, I established residency in NYC. Unable to continue my coachings (I was almost out of savings), I subleased a room from a group of young grads, new to the world of finance, and began auditioning and forging my way back into the music scene. I was gaining momentum when a first “real opportunity” to perform was presented to me, on the morning of September 11, 2001. That was the day I “Almost” realized my Broadway Dream. The day I was “Almost Lisa”...

(to be continued)

(PS If you like what you're reading, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)

[lisacatara-actress]

Me TOO MANY.

(*I retain all rights to my story, story details, biographical information, etc*)

The earliest incident I can remember was when I was in elementary school. I was walking home and had to pass one of my father's colleague’s houses before turning down the street toward my own. Steve was there, on the porch. He called to me, said he had something he wanted me to return to my father . Though I got a really sick feeling in my stomach, I went over (he was an adult after all. And a friend of my Dads).

I walked up the steps of Steve's house and waited in the foyer for him to fetch whatever it was. But that didn't happen. Steve became awkward with me, asking irrelevant questions about school and my friends. Then he sat on the steps leading to the second floor and asked me to come over toward him. He started rubbing on my arms, talking and looking at me in a way I will never forget. I quickly excused myself and walked out the front door for home without hearing a response from him. He must have known what he was doing was wrong. Embarrassed and confused, I said nothing to my family.

Steve remained a friend and business colleague of my father's. When I came home to visit from college, Steve had partnered with my father and the two of them were working out of our house together. I felt disgusted every time I saw his face or heard his voice, going out of my way to avoid him. And that was every day. My visits home became fewer and further apart. I never found the nerve to tell my father what his colleague had done because I suppose nothing really happened. But also, because I thought my father may not believe me and that would break my heart worse than the secret I was keeping. I mentioned it to my mother later in life and she was not surprised. She had a sick feeling about Steve as well which only made me angrier, knowing that she was trapped in her own home for years with this potential predator.

There was also the time In middle school when my sisters invited some of their male friends into the house while my parents were out. I hid in my room, but one of those boys came upstairs, entered, and molested me in my own bed. I wonder: HOW did he get that idea? Where did he learn the behavior?

It seems every woman I meet has endured countless unwanted, unwarranted sexual encounters by men, resulting in physical, emotional and/ or psychological rape. Sadly, our learned defense mechanism has been (globally) to laugh things off and try- often unsuccessfully- not to anger the men who victimize us.  FEAR is how this has persisted. And it is learned and tolerated from a very young age. The “harmless” stuff happens so often, it becomes ambient activity. I’ve heard a lifetime of comments about my body and what various men wanted to do to it. I can recount the times a man has gone to shake my hand, then pulled me into his lap once he had a grasp and laughed, grabbing my ass. I’ve seen men switch their seats at restaurants to sit facing me when I’m alone and steal glimpses of my legs under the table, even touch themselves while doing so. And I cringe whenever a man feels entitled to touch any part of me without my consent, or corner me and try to pressure me into sex, then call me “difficult”-(among other things)- when I say “no”. None of this is “harmless”. All of it has shaped how I communicate with the opposite sex, my relationships in general, and (of course) my work and ability to work.

In my 20’s, my boss of several years positioned himself directly in front of the bathroom door one day while I was using the facilities in his home office. I exited to find him with pants off, penis in hand, masturbating. He threatened me with legal action and attempted to interfere in my career even after I filed a retraining order, packed a U-Haul and rolled out in the middle of the night without a forwarding address.

Upon graduating from college (Eastman), I was asked to perform in Cleveland at world famous Severance Hall by the conductor of a youth orchestra I played with in high school. After the performance, he tried to get me into his hotel room. How long had he been wanting to do that? Had he succeeded with someone else before?

I am now a professional actress and stunt woman, something I accomplished from complete obscurity and with extraordinary effort. Something I’ve accomplished despite saying “NO”, repeatedly. Hollywood is currently under a microscope. The incidents everyone is hearing about are not limited to huge career advances (ie hotel meetings with studio execs, or weekend pool parties with “decision-makers”). Up until now (in this industry) harassment, predatory behavior, pedophilia, addictions, etc… are not only frequent, they have been facilitated, tolerated and even leveraged as bargaining tools to maintain employment and further careers by some in all/any departments. It’s already a tough industry to “break into”, some seek the shortcuts. Having lost a few colleagues to “Yes”, I wonder if any of them ever knew what they were really getting into). 

In my 13+ years working in “The Biz”, I’ve experienced a heavy dose of  #MeToo:

*Endless unwarranted and unwanted texts, emails and calls from men  being inappropriate,

*2am unsolicited dick pics from a director I’d just auditioned for,

*A director who got my number from production so he could call and ask me to join him in his hotel room

*An actor who dropped his pants in front of me after the crew moved on to another setup (he was pissed when I walked passed him- eyes up- and left),

*A producer who said “Lisa, it’s a good idea to know me. I can help your career” then refused to pay me when I denied his advances,

*A few stunt coordinators who make sleazy comments to me or ask for bikini pics for their own personal “files”, one touched me inappropriately at work,

*A name actor who cornered me off set and pressed his bloated body against mine while an AD and several crew members walked by, eyes down,  

The list goes on…

 To date, there are a handful of men in my industry who call me “difficult” and make it deliberately challenging for me to work because I wont have sexual intercourse with them. Have I called them out by name? No. Why? Fear. This industry is challenging enough. Also, I had feared nothing would change. But now, I pray, it CAN and it IS.

The #MeToo and #TimesUp movements are far overdue. THANK YOU to the woman who initiated this epic movement for some very necessary change. We must stand up for ourselves!  Everything girls see and hear on TV and in Ads from a very young age teaches us that we must seek validation through the love, acceptance or adoration of men via physical means. It also tells us that this is empowering. THESE ARE LIES.

Women have been manipulated and divided against each other long enough. Change will be uncomfortable for everyone, it will take adjusting and accountability by all. But it is my sincere wish (as it is now by so many outspoken women) that us ladies start holding each other to a higher potential and learn self acceptance and self validation. In that spirit, Ladies, lead with what you want the world to value about yourselves. Teach others how to treat you. And accept that you can say “NO”, and STILL THRIVE!

Wishing everyone understanding and healing.

Blessings,  Lisa

(PS If you like what you've read, I welcome contributions to the efforts via Venmo @LTarantinoDesigns)