I can’t sleep. OK. Maybe the fact that I just slept for two days straight might have something to do with it. Yea, yea. Look, it was my 35th birthday and although I may have “overdone it” with the Xanax, I did somehow manage to polish off an entire baby watermelon whilst mostly unconscious, so there.
Its 1:30am, and here I am staring at a life-sized carousel horse in my dining room. I’m scared. Not just because its legitimately creepy, but because it reminds me that at one point I had 900$ to blow on a fucking *carousel horse. (*See: Cayman. See: Louboutin Collection. See: Custom Python Jacket Studded with “Baby Monkey FTW” on back. See: Pearl-encrusted Taxidermied Lamb.)
Onwards. The last time I felt compelled to get contemplative like this was when Bitchin’ Kitchen first got picked up for TV. On January 17, 2010, I wrote “Happiness is about the simple, quiet satisfaction of setting out to do something, and getting it done. Its about not looking down, and if you ignore the 30,000 ft drop for long enough that tightrope becomes your highway…” Yep. And here I am again, not looking down. Despite the anxiety, despite the insecurity, despite the voices saying I couldn’t reinvent myself (both in my head, and actual people, like hundreds of people literally telling me online, over and over and over again), I said fuck it. Insecurities aside, this year I got shit done my way: I wrote a feature film about Bitchin’ Kitchen, I’m piloting a new comedy show w Oxygen, started a Riot Grrrl punk band, recorded an album, created a new music & food festival in LA launching this summer… Oh yea, I almost forgot, I also produced and starred in season of ‘Bite This’ and ‘Sick Kitchens’. I’m a motherfucking maker, folks. And makers make things.
If this inspires you, great. But like most things I do, I’m doing this for me. In five years from now when I can’t sleep, I’ll pull up this post and remind myself that fear is just part of the deal. It means your taking chances, pushing yourself, growing. But if you will it so, if you force pixels into reality, if you can outlast Murphy’s Law, if you can stare a creepy-ass carousel horse in the face without any regrets, (except maybe that time you messed around with two dumb males models, at the same time, and didn’t try DP… ahem.) You’ll get yours. And I’ll get mine. Because I am Nadia G after all.