Tag Archives: LA

Success…up my ass, as usual…

I feel like I’ve had one big orgasm and just exploded. You know when you suddenly stand there naked, all gates open? Obviously it’s a metaphor, but you know what I mean, right? Like you are you again. And I am a traveller, an adventurer who would love to share my stories with the world and work with helping people. It’s really that simple.

To some I’m sure it sounds absolutely retarded to give into your idea of being who you are, because let’s face it: I didn’t say that I want to work my way up a corporation and get a two bedroom flat overlooking the Thames. I more like said I wanna pack my life into a bag and hit the wilderness accompanied by my camera and my MacBook. Not what everyone deems success, but as I always say: success up my ass. Happiness…now that’s something.

I’m thinking I want to head to Africa in fall and then probably back to LA, or wherever else fancy takes me. I tried. I really did try to come back to the UK, set up a company and settle down. All it’s led to is headaches. Severe headaches. I don’t think settling down is for me. I always said I’d bring my baby with me in the bush. I’d love a proper home somewhere and one firm base, but to be entirely tied down…I can’t imagine it. Know why I love the film industry? You move from project to project and you live in trailers half of the time. No clue of how to break into the film industry, but I’ll figure that out. Firstly I’m focusing on my writing.

Found two jobs today – one customer service thing and one writing articles. Both greatly underpaid, but both movable. As in I can do them from anywhere. It’s a start.

I have no idea what will happen to be honest – maybe I’ll find a project here that means I’ll stay longer, or I’ll head to LA first, or France, or the Bahamas, but I think the point is that I feel like I’m awake because I focus on finding solutions that enable me to do what I love. I love the things I’ve previously mentioned. Just the thought of getting on a plane and heading for adventure – I’m suddenly wide awake and all heart. I thought I needed to have a proper job to afford that lifestyle, but instead I think I will make it my lifestyle to work like that. It’s like the story of the man who met a fisherman:

A few years ago, a very rich businessman decides to take a vacation to a small tropical island in the South Pacific. He has worked hard all his life and has decided that now is the time to enjoy the fruits of his labor. He is excited about visiting the island because he’s heard that there is incredible fishing there. He loved fishing as a young boy, but hasn’t gone in years because he has been so busy working to save for his retirement.

So on the first day, he has his breakfast and heads to the beach. It’s around 9:30 am. There he spots a fisherman coming in with a large bucket full of fish!

How long did you fish for? he asks. The fisherman looks at the businessman with a wide grin across his face and explains that the fishes for about three hours every day. The businessman then asks him why he returned so quickly.

Don’t worry, says the fisherman, There’s still plenty of fish out there.

Dumbfounded, the businessman asks the fisherman why he didn’t continue catching more fish. The fisherman patiently explains that what he caught is all he needs. I’ll spend the rest of the day playing with my family, talking with my friends and maybe drinking a little wine. After that I’ll relax on the beach.”

Now the rich businessman figures he needs to teach this peasant fisherman a thing or two. So he explains to him that he should stay out all day and catch more fish. Then he could save up the extra money he makes and buy even bigger boats to catch even more fish. The he could keep reinvesting his profits in even more boats and hire many other fisherman to work for him. If he works really hard, in 20 or 30 years he’ll be a very rich man indeed.

The businessman feels pleased that he’s helped teach this simple fellow how to become rich. Then the fisherman looks at the businessman with a puzzled look on his face and asks what he’ll do after he becomes very rich.

The businessman responds quickly You can spend time with your family, talk with your friends, and maybe drink a little wine. Or you could just relax on the beach.

Of course I’m scared too…because I didn’t choose the path of so-called security, but I need to live. I really need to live. I just have to figure out the wisest way of doing so, so that I don’t compromise things, but rather grow, both as a person and as a writer, director, producer and moneymaker. I am very hot-headed and love throwing myself into things, but this time: one step at a time.

Actions: found two job prospects and was offered another. Was offered more than one actually, but that was because someone headhunted me and I didn’t want that job. Looked into some publishing criteria for Harlequin. For some reason I’ve always aspired to write one of those extremely cheesy novels, but hopefully with better taste. I mean it’s like so tempting to take the piss out of the whole thing.

Negative Thoughts: OMG. I’m really doing this – legs shaking. It’s OK not to make much money to start off with, but I still want a house and a family by the end of the day, so somehow I need to figure it out, or let my heart take me there too. My hands get worn out from typing. I know no one in Africa. Bound to change, but still. It’s kind of…nervwrecking…

Positive Thoughts: I just feel so happy and content. I feel like I’m myself again. Used to feel like this in LA. Free. Happy. Like me you know.

My favorite photo from work – Leda by Ralph Gibson

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I feel like a change…maybe I should become a lesbian???

Cover of "Sex and the City: The Movie - E...

Sex And The CITIES...

Warning: sexual, potentially funny content.

I mean, it’s like anal sex: whether you’ve done it or not you are screwed. If you have done it you are a slut, if you haven’t you are frigid. On the other hand, if you screw men, you have men trouble, but if you screw women you don’t get to screw men. Like Charlotte said in SATC – my vagina would be depressed. I mean it’s like life is this constant frustration. Unless of course you find Mr Right who gives you no problems and you get laid for the rest of your life by the greatest shag around, that keeps getting better. Naturally I don’t need men to be happy, it’s just so much easier if someone else carries the shopping for me, rubs my shoulders at night and keeps my vagina happy without a rabbit. And of course you could do just the sex, but that’s like saying you want one piece of chocolate, when really you want the whole bar.

And then there’s the question of what city to live in. In LA everything is totally awesome and in London nothing’s too bad, which kind of sums it up right there, apart from the fact that even though LA is awesome London has everything awesome in it. It’s like that bitch that has Mr Perfect inside her, whereas lovely gorgeous next door is shagging a somewhat alcoholic, fame obsessed nobody with too big a car and an even bigger ego.

My choice of cities feels like my choice of dream marriage: on the one hand I’d love to drive to Mexico on a bike, get hitched in really high heels and the sexiest skimpiest dress on the planet, drink tequila all night and have my honeymoon in oblivious bliss to the world, high on chocolate, sex and chili. On the other hand I would love a fairytale wedding in France with a hundred people, or more and a honeymoon which is the deepest spiritual journey on the planet, connecting my soul with my husband’s. I always figured I could get married with the aid of tequila first and then do the proper vow once I’ve grown up enough to handle the pressure and need a bit of a lift in my every day life. I mean weddings tend to perk things up. If nothing else you can argue with your mother in law five times a day.

My choice of ideal wedding is kind of like marrying an Angelino v.s. marrying a Londoner (who’s preferably of exotic breed – you need a house in the sun and some HOT blood if you are to survive that town): with the Angelino you feel sure they will file for a divorce and make you a millionaire, whereas with a Londoner it may actually last forever. I guess it depends on what your priorities are.

Life is confusing. Like you want the bad boy and the romance and the skyscrapers and the open fields all at the same time and bohemia and luxury. Like snow and 80 degrees farenheit.

So time for a change? Well the lesbian thing is outruled by logic: I can’t take prozac for my vagina. Marriage ain’t gonna happen anytime soon, so that’s outruled too. That leaves moving cities. Well, who knows? I don’t. Maybe I should just try a new pair of shoes first? Prada, Prada… Where’s my sugar daddy when I need him??? Or at least a bad boy with a pure heart???

“The universe may not always play fair, but at least it’s got a hell of a sense of humor.” – SATC

Miranda Hobbes: If he goes up your butt, will he respect you more or respect you less? That’s the issue.
Taxi Driver: [to Carrie] No smoking in the cab.
Carrie: Sir, we’re talking up the butt. A cigarette is in order.
Samantha Jones: Front, back, who cares? A hole is a hole.
Miranda Hobbes: Can I quote you?
Samantha Jones: Don’t be so judgmental. You could use a little back door.
Charlotte: I’m not a hole.
Carrie: Honey, we know.

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Do you have a nice ass?…

Someone complained that my naughtiness wasn’t there in the posts this week – apparently I went a bit too Buddha…so here goes, naughty is back baby.

I don’t know about you, but I think asses are an important part of the human anatomy. My ass = my greatest asset. Well, sort of you know…so I will dedicate today’s post to all the nice asses out there…that aren’t total asses. Those should be avoided with great care as it is easy to get addicted to their ass and forget that they are an ass and it creates such jolly big problems.

I was sitting with my friend today discussing a film we are acting in. In the movie she bumps a guy with her car, just so as to get a date with him. We came to the conclusion that either she must be brave, or have really big boobs…but then again, in LA there are so many big boobs around that they would not be any shield of protection from angry men…it requires more skill than that…

I saw an adorable guy at Whole Foods this week. In fact he was so hot I ran around the corner to tell my friend to hurry up so she wouldn’t miss him. Of course she stood up and looked down to grab her bag at the same time as he passed, whilst I was telling her in Swedish to look up. Then he turned and walked backwards staring at me – either he was Swedish, or I was hot. I vote for me being hot.

Now LA is filled with pretty, doll looking people, it’s just even though they look like models, most don’t catch my attention (as a lecturer said: “Doing a car commercial is a lot like doing a shoot with a model – nothing looks perfect, so you have to CGI everything.” And some models look pretty, but that’s that – the rest of them is in need of CGI.). This guy on the other hand, was hot. It gave me hope. Amongst all the non-existing men in my life, he was a breath of fresh air. So if only for five minutes.

After discussing this incident with some friends, we came to the conclusion that the best place to spot hot dudes is Whole Foods, because there’s always a ton of them there. So now I am shopping with a cart instead of a basket and bumping bums at Whole Foods. I don’t have big boobs and I am not brave enough to bump someone’s car…but their bum?… If they have a nice ass they can take the hit.

The pick up line I will use? How about Ludacris? “You look good in ‘em jeans, I bet you’d look even better with me in between…” Or not.

On set today, there were problems with the mic. Somehow it had gotten disconnected and someone stuck it in the wrong hole. Then unfolded the story about the cutest quarterback in school who had gone on a date with a cheerleader. It never went onto a second date, as he stuck his finger up the wrong hole. As mentioned before, a guy in my class in middle school asked the biology teacher which hole to stick it in. I don’t think the said teacher even knew it was possible to stick it in, in more than one.

My two amigos bumped into Superman himself (Smallville) yesterday. Apparently he was so good-looking they couldn’t stop staring. Took a while till they realized who he was though. When they got back home my friend leaned forward and her pants broke – middle seam in the back (that’s right – between the butt cheeks). I am soooooo sorry glad it didn’t happen in front of Superman – it would, however, have been his perfect opportunity to compliment her nice ass. Meet cute indeed (if you don’t know what a meet cute is – watch The Holiday if nothing else it will show you what a hot Jude Law is). And where was I when this happened? At home. Baking cardamom biscotti. Talk about having the wrong priorities – everyone keeps telling me I’m the perfect girlfriend (because I’m oh so sweet and doting, right), but how can I be when I never bump into cute blokes? Good thing is – it’s our closest shop. I will be shopping there more frequently from now on – between there and Whole Foods there will be a lot of bums to bump…

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I’m Swedish, blonde and…in your bed???….

The standard question I get when I meet someone is “Where are you from?” After they have guessed every English speaking country in the world, I will have to confess to the fact that I am Swedish. If the person I’m talking to happens to be male and somewhere in between the ages of 18 to a 100, a smile will invariably light up his face as he repeats to himself easy to get into bed Swedish, eh?” Yes, Swedish, and not so easy to get into a parallel position, but until he figures that out, I might as well enjoy his efforts.

If you, on the other hand, want a bloke to melt for you, all you really have to do is to talk about how you celebrate the summer solstice – an ancient celebration of fertility where we make a giant dick (maypole) out of flowers that we dance around and at night eat strawberries and drink vodka (it’s one of the few pagan traditions the church did not manage to relabel. For example – in Easter the Swedish witches still fly off on broomsticks with their cats to dance with the devil and en route they hand out candy to children, but somehow we are also celebrating the resurrection of Jesus). For the sake of good luck you are then supposed to roll around naked in the morning dew the next day (never mind the fact that we pick seven flowers in silence at night to dream about whom we will marry, that would put him off…marriage should never be talked about by women. You simply wait until he is so desperate to keep other men off your ass that he decides to marry you.). After that he will believe you are the answer to all his prayers (when he discovers that you actually have a brain too, he will be singing hallelujah).

Dancing around a dick…I mean maypole…

N.B. All photos in this post were taken by me, please don’t use elsewhere without permission. Thank you!!!

Apart from our reputation of being sexually liberated, the Swedes are known for: Ingmar Bergman, Abba, Roxette, Björn Borg, herring, Ikea, H&M, Volvo, Zlatan Ibrohamovic (we went to the same school, never noticed him, but I met someone in Morocco who knew him…) and other sports people whom I don’t know of. And of course, Tiger Wood’s wife. Poor thing. Sex rehab. And he’s not even Swedish!!! (No, we do not make watches and chocolate. That’s SWITZERLAND.)

When it comes to Swedish stereotypes there is a brilliant book called The Xenophobe’s Guide To The Swedes from which I will now quote freely:

Svårmod: a dark melancholy born out of long winters, high taxes and being stuck far out on a geo-political and socio-economic limb. They brood a lot over the meaning of life in a self-absorbed sort of way without ever arriving at satisfactory answers. (…) All this svårmod makes the Swedes very self-conscious and socially awkward. When two Swedish individuals meet for the first time, there are actually four people present: the two visible persons, plus their invisible alter-egos who stand close by and criticize every word and every gesture. Only when the acquaintance is well established do the alter-egos move to the sidelines, albeit still shaking their heads.

Undfallenhet: You may call a car rental firm to say the studs are missing from the winter tyres and that, as a consequence, you are unfairly exposed to the risk of having to pay for any collision damage. To this the rental agent is likely to reply: “Never mind having to pay for collision damage. What about your personal health and safety?” It’s a response that takes all the fun out of complaining. (…) Being aggressive is considered a macho thing in many Western cultures. In Sweden it’s viewed as a handicap. (…) Undfallenhet is not to be confused by cowardice. Sweden has long stood firm on its conviction regarding matters like apartheid and dictatorship.

Lagom: “just enough” or “in moderation.” Lagom permeates Swedish life. Economically it has enabled the nation to find the middle ground between Capitalism and Socialism (Progress and Humanity). In manufacturing, lagom discards gold-plated designs in favor of optimum solutions. Socially lagom puts conformity before excellence, tempers extreme personal wealth and poverty, and leaves the Swedes irksomely at peace with themselves. (…) When something is said to be “lagom good” it actually means it’s the best.

In the battle between idealism, heroism and common sense, the latter always wins.

Patriotism: The Swedes sneer at public manifestations of patriotism, conveniently forgetting that the blue and yellow Swedish flag is everywhere to be seen. (…) Swedes are not patriots in the usual sense. Victory monuments come in the form of rune stones rather than bronze statues. Ask them what link them to their native country and they will hold forth, not about government, history, or culture, but about deep forests, smiling archipelagos, crayfish served with aquavit, and flower wrapped maypoles. For Swedes the national flag is primarily an eye-pleasing backdrop. Rather than rallying people to war, it invites them to a picnic in a meadow.

Being rich in Sweden has never been easy. As Ingmar Bergman found out, even millionaires can have difficulties making ends meet when income tax is levied at 102%. But even after taxation, the filthy rich remain merely filthy in the eyes of the not-so-rich, who themselves are far from poor. Manifestations of personal wealth have always been  frowned upon in Sweden, based on the assumption that for every winner there has to be a loser.

Religion: there is a saying that all Swedish people are born free, but taxed to death. Until 1996 all children were born into Lutherian faith. These days they are allowed to choose their own faith. Those who have not opted out show their Lutheran piety by attending church on at least four occasions, namely for their baptism, confirmation, wedding(s) and funeral (I might add here: and the 6-12 or so times you have to attend mass to get confirmed. Ahem. I mean, amen. Swedes are still religious though – we celebrate nature and whatever force created it. Some call that pagan.)

Money Matters: The Swedes truly understand the joy of giving and taking. They give as much as they take, neither more, nor less. (…) Restaurant bills are divided up evenly after meals (not equal shares, but each person pays for their own food). Ulf and Ulla out on a date are equally intent on settling their score evenly. A foreign observer of scenes like these could be forgiven for thinking that the Swedes are pathological skinflints. The truth, however, is that they load becoming dependent on other human beings through indebtedness in any shape or form. Accept a gift and one feels obliged to reciprocae in kind. Receive a favor, and expect to be called in at a later date. (I would say it’s a sense of fairness. Right be right. This can also be applied to dating rich people: then they pay for you, until you make your own millions, then you pay for them and believe me: if you are Swedish you will remember to pay back.)

Women and Men: The stereotype Swedish woman is beautiful, opinionated and speaks three languages. She has a strong aesthetic sense and her attitude to sex is accommodating. While single she travels the world and samples the local climatic and climactic delights. Once married, she invariably has a career and keeps her own money.

The average Swedish man is seen as being shy, taciturn, submissive, sentimental principled, reliable – precisely the sort of male companion the Swedish woman covets as the father of her 13/4 children. He is Mr Fixit (if you don’t know how to handle a hammer, just forget it). He is basically a loner and is happiest at work, on the ski slope or at the country cottage which he is constantly rebuilding. (I kinda like outgoing social type of guys that radiate warmth from a mile away, but maybe that’s just me???)

Swedes congratulate themselves for having been first in the world to achieve total equality between the sexes.(…)

By international standards, Swedish women have always been highly emancipated. In the days of the Vikings, only a woman dared tell a warrior what a corny oaf he was. (…) Nowadays, members of the Women’s Movement are campaigning for men to sit down when urinating, their point being that men have been flaunting their anatomical advantage for much too long.

One thing Swedish men and women have in common is a curious diagnostic to human relationships. Social, as well as sexual, intercourse techniques are analyzed and compared in great detail – along the lines of “How was it for you?” and “How can we improve it next time?” (In stark contrast to Californians’ attitude of: if it’s bad, let’s say it’s good. Problem solving? Are you kidding me? I’d have to confess to there being a problem? That’s a sin, no? Tell everyone they are great and if they aren’t – just never talk to them again. Whatever you do – just never say anything negative.  Sneaking out the backdoor is so fucking Cali and to a Swede – so fucking confusing. I’m thankful to be here, I’d just be thankful if I could learn to understand them too…)

Children: The statutory maternity leave is 12 months at 80% of the mother’s most recent salary, plus another 3 months at a reduced rate (you can take this out any time from the child is born until s/he is 8 yrs old, you also, kids or no kids, get 5 wks of vacation every year, plus general holidays). Since nearly all couples have parallel careers, it is up to the mother and father to decide who stays at home with the newborn child. (…) Spanking a child – even one’s own – is against the law in Sweden.

Hospitality (and honesty): The Swedes stake out the limits of their hospitality in no uncertain terms. They assume that you will do the same. So when you tell them to come and see you anytime, they will do precisely that. And if you protest that they are leaving much too soon, they’ll stay on to keep you company. It’s a square, square world. (Unlike Cali, where everything’s a bit fussy around the edges. How do you know when someone means what they say if they only tell you the truth 50% of the time?)

The taboo subject: The Swedes consider themselves the most broad-minded people on earth. They boast that only in Sweden are you free to discuss absolutely anything, be it sex, money, incest or euthanasia. Don’t take their word for it, though, because generalizing about nationalities (other than the Norwegians) is definitively out. Swedish people love to criticise about their own country when amongst themselves; but when a foreigner enters the room, suddenly Sweden can do nothing wrong. (Mark my words, I warn thee.)

Anyone who’s wondering what really make the Swedes tick need look no further: it is coffee. (The coffee shop culture in Sweden can be summed up by saying: a café in every corner. We don’t hang out. We go for coffees, or rather a “fika” meaning coffee and something to eat with it.)

Drinking: It is often said that the Swedes have a drinking problem. (…) As a matter of fact the Swedes consume less alcohol than most other countries in the EU. (…) The Swedish government is defying EU law by restricting the sale of spirits. Outlets are few and far in-between, open late, close early and mask the whereabouts of liquor by displaying everything but spirits in their windows. Citizens who do manage to find one are charged exorbitant prices for anything stronger than wine. (This is why Swedes get drunk when vacating in the Mediterranean and buy all their spirits in Germany.) (…) Another deterrent is the stiff penalty meted out to anyone caught driving a vehicle with even an extra molecule of alcohol in the blood. One hapless driver, who was pulled over and breath-analyzed seconds after swallowing a rum-filled chocolate, tested positive and was driven away to a police laboratory for tests. The tests showed no trace of alcohol in the blood and the driver was acquitted, but only after agreeing to pay for the test as well as a fine for wasting police time. (Of course they do not count how much home-made spirits are in circulation, only deaths and blindness caused by these every year. Just a note.)

Obsessions: A great deal of emotion is associated with childhood memories of summers gone by. It has to do with the taste of wild strawberries and the smell of freshly cut hay, listening in bed to the cuckoo at dawn (in the south dawn is around 3am and sunset around 12am), catching crab with fish heads on a string, and watching the fishermen tar their hulls. The Swedes are the world’s greatest nature lovers and will spout about it until the cows go home. (…) The Swedes have a dream: to save nature from man. This is more than just a vision – it’s as close to a passion as the Swedes ever get.

Leisure and pleasure: The Swedes indulge in sport for leisure and sex for pleasure. (…) President Eisenhower once noted in a speech that there was a country in Northern Europe where moral standards had fallen to an all time low. The subsequent avalanche of American tourist upon Swedish soil left little doubt which country he had in mind. The visitors were not disappointed for they returned home with photographic evidence that the Swedes swim naked whenever they think nobody’s watching (and who has less morals: the person watching or the one thinking s/he’s alone with nature?). (…) In the 18th century Linnaeus studied the sex life of plants with such intensity that he became known as the Peeping Tom of Botany. (…) It is true, however, that their attitude to sex is largely unencumbered by taboos. The Swedes, like the Dutch, believe in easy natural sex as a way of resisting unnatural forms such as prostitution, incest and child abuse.

Cinema: Sweden has a lot in common with Disney World. On the surface people seem to lead a carefree existence in a fairy-tale paradise. Underneath is a whole different world, which is out of bound for most visitors.

If you didn’t get enough – buy the book. I laughed till I cried, but then I am Swedish. You may have an inferior sense of humor.

On a very Swedish note about nationalities: I find being Swedish an asset. I love my home country and feel lucky to have been brought up with some of the values over there. Like people still know how to use a hammer and a sewing machine. Common sense still exists and I like the idea of progress combined with humanity, not one over the other….and don’t even get me started on saving nature from man. I also left for a reason. I just didn’t feel like I was “only that.” I am more than just a Swede. I am a human being. And so is every other person, were they born in the fires of hell, or the kingdom of heaven. No one probably wish to be born in a country, or part of a city, labeled by the rest of the world as dangerous, or nasty in any other way. Nor do people probably grow up wishing to become criminals. Beneath it all: human. People can only see life for what they know of it. Show someone love and they may end up lovable.

Also, I don’t like everything from my personal past. I am sure the Germans today don’t love Hitler either. What good is there to say that the Vikings were warriors? I am not a warrior, well at least not in that sense. Maybe we can learn from the past, but to boast about it? Nor do I agree with all the politicians in Sweden. If someone said that because I’m Swedish I would be like Gudrun Schyman, I would, oh man, faint. And I mean Americans are supposedly against communism, but their greatest financial debt is supposedly to China. Not to mention Swedes being against apartheid and dictatorship in SA and Chile, but neglecting it in Russia (too close for comfort???). There are contradictions everywhere. I love many Swedish values, I get disturbed by seeing all the homeless people in LA (someone told me they amount to a startling number of 160,000) and the segregation between rich and poor (paying to go to school? Please, shouldn’t children at least be equal? How can they become great if they aren’t given a chance?), but I still prefer to live in LA. I am a funny mix and so are probably most of us.

Californication “…little girls from Sweden dream of silver screen quotation…” – Red Hot Chili Peppers

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Who’s on your walk of fame?..

When living in LA, sooner or later, you will meet someone who, during a conversation, slightly lowers their voice and says “Actually, I know so and so.” So and so of course being one star, or another.

Network = Net Worth, is an old saying and I believe it is very true. However, if you have nothing to offer your network, you are unlikely to get any net worth from it. What’s more, I think that the part of your network that isn’t all that famous might very well be worth much more than the part that is.

Who do you value the most in your life? Is it the star whose phone number you have, or your partner in crime (…life that is)? Is it your high net worth business contact, or your business partner? Is it the hottie on the billboard, or the hottie in your bed?

Sometimes when people lower their voice and tell me of a star they know, I want to lower mine too and whisper: “That’s so nice. I have some cool contacts too. The most important one is standing right in front of you. Then I also know my best friend, my sister, my dad, my business partner and a whole bunch load of other people who totally rock my world and actually return my phone calls.” (And to that I would like to add, in a west coast accent and high-pitched voice: “Isn’t that like totally awesome? Like it’s just so cool – it’s beeeyoooond!!!”)

Get me right – if Richard Branson offered to coach me in business, or Scorsese offered to coach me in directing I’d potentially faint from excitement, because I have a lot of respect for them. It is very cool to be surrounded by people whom you respect, but if you respect someone on a billboard more than you respect your best friend, you might want to think again. After all, I hope that there’s a reason why you chose to surround yourself with the people you have in your life.

For sure I’d be happy if certain people I look up to became contacts of mine, but until the day they have looked after me as many times as the people in my life have now, until the day I trust them as much as I trust my current business contacts…well, they might be stars, but they aren’t stars in my life.

The same is very true when you have a crush on someone, or really want to be friends with someone who just don’t treat you very well, or simply have no interest in being around you. How many times have you obsessed about a man, or woman, who simply didn’t give a damn? Like seriously? I might break the world record… Those people aren’t stars in my life though, so instead of obsessing about them, why not focus on treating the real stars in my life to my full attention? What you focus on expand. Sort out the bad stuff, but focus on the good stuff.

Keep building your network, because the more trustworthy friends and business associates you have in your life that truly believe in you, the likelier you are of being looked after at all times and given opportunities that have been presented to them, so treat them for what they are: stars. (Oh, and if someone has Branson’s number, please pass it along. A date with Di Caprio would be much appreciated too…and one with Gerard Butler, please, whilst at it…lmfao.)

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