give too much

Marlon Brando by telephone, 1990
It is impossible to give too much–in anything. This is a myth behind which the lazy and the untalented and the stingy perpetually hide. While you can’t give too much, you can spread the gifts unwisely, without balance, and then your contributions look bad, unfocused.
I think that when you work, you give too much to the study of the part; you give too much to the rehearsal with your comrades; you give too much to the contemplation of the dreams and the fears and the traumas and the triumphs of the character; you give too much to the audiences who show up, or to the director who trains a camera on your attempts.
You always, always give too much.
It will drive you crazy at times, but the point is never going to be how you turn out, but how your work turns out; how it reaches and moves and changes people.
Give too much. Wear yourself out. Use it all up.
When you are at your most exhausted, at the edge of insanity, you are only halfway to the goal.
It’s scary, but it’s worth it, and it’s what people deserve.
marlonbrandoclassic.jpg

kodak kinda thing

90s sprinklers

We’re too far away from the pools.
Mum unfolds the sprinkler in the backyard and lets us play in the water.
My brother loves this shit.
He squeals with delight and makes sure I watch his latest Street Fighter moves.
Hee-yaa!

It’s hot with a cool breeze, the only way Melbourne summer can get, up and down like a bipolar off meds.
I feel the warm mud under my feet, I play with it between my toes.
Squish, squish.

“Liza, you weren’t watching!”
I turn to appease my brother, “Ok, do it again.”
How’s mum going to get this wet grass off the floor inside?
My brother karate chops the water in midair, “Did you see that?” he screams.
“Awesome stuff!” I tell him.

Continue reading “kodak kinda thing”

them/id

FADE IN: two men.

And then I would be a cis hetero male.

What does that mean?

I am a person whose gender identity and biological sex assigned at birth, align.

So, no more calling yourself straight guy?

Nope.

There’s also agender; we refer to them as “them”. They see themselves as existing without gender.

Gotcha.

And we have a queer and a couple of lesbians.

Gone are the days when I used to say, “we’re here, we’re queer, let’s go have a beer.”

Yeah, you can’t say that anymore cuz you’re not queer and you’re making a joke at the expense of a queer.

But I’m not, really.

No, I get it, it’s just times are changing.

Right.

FADE OUT.

5 days

5 days

FADE IN: two women sit facing the ocean.

It was 5 days of hell. You don’t even know. And we’re not even completely out of it yet. I can never tell anyone what we’ve done. I mean, this is unorthodox in America. Oh, it kills me. We’ve had to endure this alone, not even my mother wanted a part of it. Listening to him ugly cry for up to 40 minutes before we could intervene – it sounds like I’m torturing my child, but believe me there’s a method to the madness. Five days and then he finally slept through the night. I wanted to run in and stop this, smother him with all my love, but that would push us back to square one. I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing. I blamed that Nazi sleep trainer every day. But I did what she asked. God, she’s tough.

She had to be or you wouldn’t get through it.

I think she’s Argentinian but she has a German accent, I swear she does. She was relentless and so unempathetic. But her methods worked. Five days and now he sleeps 12 hours straight.

And how’s he doing?

Great! So much better. He’s so happy now and energized when he’s awake.

He was so cranky at first —

— Yeah, that’s cuz he wasn’t sleeping. We both weren’t.

He’s a trouper.

You know, this experience has shaken me. If it took him 5 days to completely rearrange a structure that was in place since birth; five days to change his life and he did it? Imagine what we’re capable of. If we only just commit. This little boy is an example that there really is no excuses.

Yup. Can you sleep through the night?

Not yet. I’m still worried I’ve done something wrong. I hope that changes..

FADE OUT.

The Real Me

The Real Me

As I continue exploring Magic, I return to my Creed:

1. I believe in Evolution, the process of upleveling.

2. Humor and Belly laughs unite us.

3. Yoga, meditation, and a healthy lifestyle are my jams.

4. If it’s not a “Hell Yes!” I’m not doing it.

5. I cry when I sing.

6. I believe empathy is the secret sauce for healing and change.

7. Curiosity and Beginner’s Mind are the most frequented tools in my toolbox.

8. I Have Time is my new religion.

9. My father’s death reminds me how fleeting this life is.

10. Love is Love is Love is Love is Love.

Liza Fernandez

don’t make me tell you twice

don't make me tell you twice
FADE IN:

I can’t hardly sleep no more. I useta be able to leave the TV on for hours, and not hear a peep.
Life man, it’s exhausting, and then I can’t sleep.
I got a new home now, a kid. A kid, man!
A kid that –
Listen, the other day he came over to me and said, “For Christmas, I want an X-Box One X. Don’t make me tell you twice.”
I was like, “Ok, fool, whatever.”
A few minutes later, he comes back to me, “Dad, don’t forget I want an X-Box One X for Christmas. Don’t make me tell you twice.”
At this point, I’m like, “Why you tellin’ me twice then?”
And then it dawned on me, this kid doesn’t understand what that phrase means.
So, I explain it to him.
He looks at me and says, “You always saying it at the end of your sentences, and you’re always saying it mad-like.”

That’s a mirror to my fuckin’ face.
Fuckin’ kids.
They’re watching us too much.

FADE OUT.