#Lisa catara

[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)

[aspiestvmusings]

BTS of SCORPION 312, pt 3

pic source: [one]  [two]  [three]  [four]  [five]  [six]  [seven]  [eight]   [nine]

[page58-blog1]

Watch Kickboxing Champion Don Wilson & R. Marcos Taylor in Award-Winning Quirky Action Comedy 'Paying Mr. McGetty' (Trailer)

Watch Kickboxing Champion Don Wilson & R. Marcos Taylor in Award-Winning Quirky Action Comedy ‘Paying Mr. McGetty’ (Trailer)

    “Yo man I can’t talk right now I’m being chased.” In ‘Paying Mr. McGetty’ a wannabe music producer is about to go through the worst day of his life. Tyrell (R. Marcos Taylor) hates his job and wants his own record label. But after a night he can’t remember his dream will become a nightmare as he tries to fight off dangerous mobsters, work his day job, and avoid eviction after gambling away…

[juanescobedo]

My friend #lisacatera Lisa Catara is a phenomenal actress! Love her beautiful personality!! #repost @lisa_catara ・・・ <-----Actress / Action. It's been a helluva journey for this Clevelander. Hope to share the story someday. Thanks to the CD's, Directors, Producers and Coordinators who continue to put their faith in my talent and abilities. 🎬🎭🎥 #tv #film #filmmaking #LisaCatara #actress #acting #casting #indiefilm #commercial #stunts #stuntwoman #adagency #SupportIndieFilm #filmmaker #screenwriting . . . . . . . . . . . . #actress #stunt #love (at Hollywood) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzHPYLOAtOW/?igshid=co2qnp7h8uj4

[ontheroadincostarica]

15.4. Regenregenundnochmalregen-Wald Nach einem sättigenden Frühstück machten wir uns auf den Weg zum Lake Arenal, dem Vulkansee. Davor hielten wir noch beim Supermarkt, da das Kabel unseres iPads zwischenzeitlich den Geist aufgeben hat (Lisa wollte das nicht glauben und testet alle möglichen Kombis, ohne Erfolg). Nach einer zweitägigen Suche nach einem Kabel endlich ein Erfolg (die Frau an der Kasse war etwas verwirrt wie jemand sich so über ein Kabel freuen kann). Ladetechnisch back on track konnten wir uns auf den See freuen. Der allerdings hatte andere Pläne und versteckte sich vor uns konsequent im Nebel. Sein Pech, landet er halt nicht hier. Wir ließen ihn schnell hinter uns und fuhren durch das Costa Ricanische Texas oder Australien, zumindest von der Landschaft. Das fasziniert uns immer wieder aufs Neue wie unterschiedlich hier die Umgebung ist, vom tiefsten Dschungel mit dichtem Wald über karibischen Strand bis hin zu texanischem Weideland - einfach atemberaubend. Von der Hauptstraße bogen wir dann ab Richtung Nationalpark Vulkan Tenorio. Der Weg führte uns über eine 9 km lange Schotterstraße mitten durch den Dschungel. Beim Park angekommen fielen uns gleich die vielen Menschen auf (wir sind nach dem entspannten Tag gestern keine mehr gewohnt und es ist auch hier Ostern). Unser Ziel war ein atemberaubender Wasserfall des Rio Celeste und eine dahinter liegende Lagune. Gut ausgerüstet mit Wanderschuhen und Regencape machten wir uns auf den Weg. Wie sich später rausstellen sollte, hätten wir besser auch die Regenhose mit eingepackt. Der Weg führte durch den Dschungel, allerdings ein ganz anderer als bisher. Hier merkt man den Pflanzen den ständigen Nebel an- überall Flechten und Moose - eine übergrüne Landschaft. Gleiches Land und trotzdem andere Flora und Fauna. Über eine 200 m lange Treppe erreichten wir schließlich den Wasserfall. Die Catara der Rio Celeste stürzt über 30 m in ein türkisfarbenes Becken - ein wunderschöner Anblick. Da man aufgrund von Touriandrang nur 5 min am Wasserfall verweilen durfte, machten wir uns kurzerhand auf den beschwerlich Aufstieg. Der zunächst noch nieselige Regen verwandelte sich innerhalb von Minuten in einem Regenguss und machte aus dem Weg ein Matschfeld. Die Rutsch- und Schlitterpartie konnte beginnen. Unsere beiden Gentlemen hatten uns in der Zwischenzeit alleine gelassen und waren wie immer voraus gegangen, sodass wir uns als Zweierteam durch den Matsch kämpfen mussten. Vor uns lag noch eine Strecke von ca. 1 km zur Lagune Azur, bei der man ein besonderes Naturschauspiel sehen können sollte. Hier fließen zwei unterschiedlich farbige Flüsse zu einem zusammen - das wollten wir uns nicht entgehen lassen und so rutschten wir weiter. Mittlerweile waren unsere Schuhe samt Hose voll mit Schlamm und wir vermissten schmerzlich unsere Regenhose. An der Lagune angekommen entschädigte der Anblick der beiden Flüsse und das deutliche Zusammentreffen der unterschiedlichen Farben für den Weg. Man sagt auch, Gott habe den Pinsel hier ausgewaschen nachdem er den Hinmel blau gemalt hatte. Die unschönere Variante ist, dasss es eine chemische Reaktion ist. Bei Sonne ist das defintiv noch viel schöner und stärker zu sehen. Doch der Regen wollte einfach nicht aufhören und so traten wir den Rückweg an. Der ehemalige aus Steinen und Wurzeln bestehende Weg war in der Zwischenzeit zu einem Matschfeld geworden. Da bei unserem Schuhen nichts mehr zu retten war, latschten wir einfach mittendurch ohne groß auf den Weg zu achten. Die einfachere Variante, nass und schlammig wäre wir eh geworden. Zwischenzeitlich stand Katja knöcheltief samt Socken im Matsch - sehr angenehm, eine Fangopackung für die Füsse, leider kalt. Der Regen dachte sich dann wohl, er könnte noch eine Schippe drauflegen und es goß wie aus Eimern. Pitschnass im Auto angekommen, entschieden wir uns, doch besser gleich zum Hotel zu fahren, statt noch einen zweiten Wasserfall zu besuchen. Trotz allem definitiv ein Erlebnis.

[evelynceeisme]

An actress contacted me through twitter yesterday, I just tweeted her once and she ended up following me and DMing me straightaway. It was surreal.

Amazing how if you're from the same industry people automatically want to be involved even if you're not completely in it.

She's already given me great advice and it's been.. 18hrs? Loving her support already and her encouragement.

Needed to get that out there.

Thank you Lisa! :)

[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 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 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 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 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)