Today I'm thankful for time to remember, time to write. I'm thankful for my creative writing teacher for this exercise, and I'm thankful for my blog so I can write in it.
The Five Senses: Remembering California
See: I see the glowing fountain and city lights from my hotel balcony. I see sets and scenery from movies and TV shows looking strangely familiar, but new and exciting. I see sharp mountain ranges springing out of the highways with short spiky trees leaning to fight gravity. The ocean with it's flat miles of sand and the red and yellow buses. I see little umbrellas in our drinks and the pool shimmering in the sun. I see the letters running together on the pages of my Kristin Chenoweth biography. I see rooms full of famous actors and singers, but they are made of wax. I laugh when I see the pictures of me making faces and dancing around with them. I see the stars trying to shine through the bright lights of the city.
Hear: I hear cars. All the time. Honking or zooming past with their overly loud bass pumping or revved up engines roaring up the street. I hear high heels clacking on the sidewalks and tour guides giving facts. People gasping or chatting about who they can see or if that person is famous. I hear the buses stopping and going with it's clanky bumps over rocky roads and the announcement of different bus stops in a strange recorded voice. I hear laughter at the actors when they make funny jokes off camera.
Taste: I taste the sweet and autum-y pumpkin spice white mocha with whip every morning paired with a soft pumpkin scone. Just the right amount of icing. I taste paninis and salads all fresh and crisp. Combinations of apples and chicken, bacon and lettuce. I taste cranberry with splashes of peach schnapps and pineapple rum. I taste tuna steak with its pink center soft and cool, but hot and seared on the outside and covered in that amazing sweet glaze. I taste a 3 inch tall club sandwhich and an amazingly covered plate of nachos. I taste ice cream and burgers. A huge red velvet cupcake and a fliet mignon that is out of this world. I taste the fame, just a taste of it, living in the town, going to a taping of a show. I taste hotdogs and salt air on the peir.
Smell: I smell fresh clean linens when I walk into our hotel. Car and bus exaust slightly tinges the fresh sea air rolling in from a few miles off the coast. I smell amazing food wafting from the downstairs restaurant. I smell cotton candy and popcorn at Universal and the sterile smell of hospitals at the Grey's set. I smell coffee. Everywhere. People can't live without coffee here. Not to mention the Starbucks in the lobby with it's steamed milk and sticky syrups and grinding coffee smells intoxicating my caffeine addictited nose.
Feel: I feel the warmth of Matt's hand when I hold it all the time. The rumble of the plane taking off into the sky. I feel the wind and sun race to beat at my skin as the Santa Monica peir ferris wheel brings us up over the ocean and back down into the chaos of the fair. I feel my feet hitting all sorts of pavement and ground as we walk to shops and restaraunts around parks and tv sets. I feel excitement that we're so close to where it all happends. To where dreams come true. I feel famous when a taxi driver asks Matt and I if we're actors. I say yes. I feel tired after a day of running and smiling, picture taking and eating, laughing and gasping at the cool things we're learning about and seeing. I feel so in love with the man I married exactly a year ago with millions more to go.
