Apparently I’m not a robot. The pandemic has taught me that. 

No, I never thought I was actually a cyborg, but American culture is relentless. And Los Angeles is a relentless town. And I need to acknowledge that my personality must also enter into the equation. I’m kind of relentless, too.

I value productivity a little too much

I could blame Henry Ford and his assembly line. He decreased the number of hours it took to build a car from 12 to less than three. That innovation in 1913 changed the world empowering everyday folk to get where they wanted to go when they wanted to go there. When I was 16, I bought a Dodge Colt. My current vehicle – an orange Honda Fit – is my fifth car. (Thanks Henry!)

Our culture seems to have evolved directly from Henry’s manufacturing success to value productivity in all areas of life. How much can get done in a day? Workout? Earning? Family? Personal development? Check. Check. Check. Check. Like a machine.

Ambition is fine. Fun even. I run into trouble when my self worth gets tied into the incessant need to produce.

Los Angeles is the culprit

I came to Los Angeles with a dream. So many of us here did. Most people doing one thing are chipping away daily towards another longed-for goal. Mine was acting. It is a lifestyle of striving that’s as common here as avocado toast. (Well, pre-Covid 19 avocado toast.)

Maybe that’s why in March, when stay at home orders became real, my journal trumpeted with stress that I needed to do something really important and BIG. I put a lot of pressure on myself because that was my habit anyway. When in doubt: Produce.

‘Cause she’s got personality

I have to admit that I’m the one that wanted to come to Los Angeles and frankly I was already an aspiring individual from where I had sprung in South Florida. Besides the playground rigors of elementary school, I started moonlighting as a performer in a variety show when I was seven years old.

Sporting my gymnastics t-shirt (another ambition!)

I bought that Dodge Colt as a result of my work at Swenson’s Ice Cream Parlor (among other employers) for the express purpose of getting a talent agent. I got five. Bottom line: I was driven AF.

Making strides to strive less

Depression slowed me down in my twenties. Therapy and recovery programs defined my thirties. I’ve come a long way in finding a gentler path in my 40’s. Here I sit with you at 49. It’s May 2020. There’s a pandemic. The pandemic has required me to slow down further to rediscover something as obvious as the warmth of my blood and my need for a hug.

Apparently, I’m a mammal.

In the past I found myself jealous of cats and their lifestyles. Cats – I told myself – had the luxury of respecting their rhythms. I, in contrast, was beholden to an external drum. The pandemic – the Great Pause – has quieted the drum and allowed me to be more cat-like. I prowl around the house all day. Last night I slept for nine hours. The assembly line has given way to slow stretches. I expect less from myself. I lick my fur.

I’m confident that there will be future moments for me filled with excitement and opportunity; effort and accomplishment. For today, it’s this:

Meow.