IT’S WHAT YOU TAKE WITH YOU

So as my time here comes to an end, my mind is full of “what next-isms.” I keep thinking about the things I have gotten used to, and all the new shit on the horizon, and all the things that are old, that will feel new- and that which I have attained here- and how much I will bring with me.

First there are the little things- a full set of kitchen knives, choices of plates, more than two mugs… A bigger shower! Being able to control the temperature of water in said shower… wow- a BATH. Wow. And no vespa! My parents house. I have to buy a car. FUCK. I don’t want a car. No way out of that I’m afraid.

Then it’s things like going back to the land where complex carbohydrates are the enemy, and everyone is image obsessed. (Imagine the last 9 months I haven’t heard ANYONE talk about their diet… amazing- so so life altering, I can’t tell you).

And what of TV, and movies anytime I want? And the language… to be back where all communication is possible.

And time. What of all this free time- where will it go? Gobbled up in vacuous LA- land of too many people not enough time?

But life without phone cards, and a real stereo, and my brother and Damaris… And a proper mattress- AND A CHANGE OF SHEETS!!!! Oh wow. So many little things.

But I’ve so gotten used to this paired down lifestyle. Do I really need all that nonsense? No. And yes.

Perhaps I have endured with one set of sheets for 9 months because I always knew, that in a box on the other side of the world, I have more. And maybe I have forgone shaving my legs in the shower for the better part of a year- because one day I will sit upstairs in my parents enormous house looking at a chandelier while sitting in a hot foamy bubble bath… I can be this simple- because complexities are just a plane trip away.

I suppose I won’t know anything until I arrive and it all unfolds. But as I lie in bed- and listen to the sound of Rome outside. Vespas, yelling Italian prostitutes, lost tourists, drunk Irish boys, church bells… god, a thousand church bells… I wonder- what will I miss the most? What is the thing I will want back? Is it in the shower, or the kitchen, or the smell of cobblestones and history, or in the sound of the bells and the motorino’s mufflers? Or is it me? Will I miss who I am here- out on the other side of the world, all alone, the most recent version of myself? Where my oldest friend is someone I met last September… perhaps I will miss the isolation- the privacy. The quiet.

I suspect I will miss the stillness the most.

Is that stillness inside me? Or is it here in this place? Will that quiet be in LA too? Will I find again in Colorado?

Is it in me? Or do I leave it here?

And how much, if any, can I take with me?

FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC

I mean seriously man. This calls for a god damned celebration.

OK- first good news. I may yet be out of the woods with regards to the cat debacle. (see previous entry). Too soon to really say anything yet, but I can confidently express there is a very promising situation on the horizon. Whereby me, Pete, and Sally all arrive safely stateside, and on schedule.

And the second piece of good news, and this one is the doosey… with many thanks going to my brother Carter Carter and my most recent visitor Zoë Foster, it looks as though I won’t have to say goodbye to Rome after all. Allow me to explain.

While Zoë was here she gave me a very wise talking to in regard to my career and my current job and put my head on square (as it’s been a bit wobbly as of late) And with that pep-talk in my back pocket, and my ever techno savvy brother just a phone call away- the following has transpired:

I successfully figured out how to hack into the Medusa network- meaning that I can now receive their emails from anywhere on this blessed globe. (say for example, LA, Colorado.. you see where I’m going with this…)

And then I gave my boss a little talking to- telling him I had no intention of terminating my employment with him, and that I would continue to read scripts and monitor the Hollywood scene for him- only via internet. He, was thrilled by the idea- AND BETTER YET, when he said, “and then we’ll just sort out payment” I suggested in lieu of payment, every other month or so- he should fly me to Rome, where we can have a face to face, and I can… well- come back to the city I love most in the world… for free!!!!

So that’s that. He thought it was a fucking smashing idea, and I, for one am just so damned pleased with myself I would kiss my own ass if I bent that far over.

Seriously. Happy fucking days.

Smile with me world… It’s all gona be terrific, I just know it. Oh and look at that- Chase turns 30 in one month to the day. Good grief.

Buy the ticket. Take the ride.

OK- STAY CALM CHASE

So I just found out that Continental (the airline I am flying out on) DOES NOT accept cats internationally any longer. Gulp.

Neither does US AIR- which is what I came in on, they recently changed their policy. Gulp.

Doesn’t look like very many airlines at all fly cats out of Italy. Gulp.

So, uh…. I am trying to figure this mother fucker out.

Of course I will get them home, obviously it will all work out. I will do anything I have too. Of course. It just might, uh get really fucking stupid expensive.

Awesome.

I’ll keep you posted.

WELL IT’S OFFICIAL

My parents sold the farm I grew up on in Colorado, and they have downsized into a super cute little house in basalt. I’ve been receiving pictures from dad over the past few weeks, and I thought I’d share them with you.

When I see these pictures I know, it’s gonna be great to go home.

ONE MORE THING

I would personally like to French kiss Steve Jobs. My new favorite person. Today I downloaded the season premier of Lost (which I have been unable to watch because I live in another country you see) and I watched the fucking show!!! I cannot tell you how awesome it was. I think that man is a genius. I thinks Apple is the greatest company in the world (kinda). And that makes me very very pleased. Now if they would just get the OC on there my life would be complete.

Ahh, how I love American TV. You really don't know how good you've got it.

HOLY SHIT

Been meaning to write for days, but honestly it is not until this very moment that I have had any time. And even now I should be reading an enormous pile of scripts that has accumulated on my desk this week. BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK TO BACK visitors. Haven’t eaten at home in almost two weeks.

Exhausting. LOTS of fun, but bloody exhausting.

So first it was Zoë. (Well, technically it was Leisa first- who was here for what amounted to almost 3 weeks on and off)… Then it was Zoë. Had a really wonderful couple of days while she was here. Sincerely. It was so so great. Zoë has been to Rome twice before, so the obvious pressure to take her to all the major sights was totally alleviated- leaving us to do as we pleased. What’s more- Zoë was very encouraging in terms of doing things I still hadn’t done. So, for example even though I’ve been here almost a year I still hadn’t climbed up to the top of the dome in St Peters (500 steps up… and very strange and claustrophobic and hilarious)… nor had I been blessed by the new pope, or gone to this really swanky fancy restaurant I had heard about… all of which we did. It was so fun. Zoë is so low maintenance and she was a pleasure to have in town… so it was awesome. And as always a wonderful wonderful to spend a few days with an old old friend that knows me so well, it really is nice to have friends for a long time. To check out pic’s of Zoë and I go here
.

Zoë left Thursday the same day David Franco arrived in Rome (AKA Amy French’s boyfriend) and the same day 8 of my relatives on my dads side arrived. The fame got in late so I was able to have an evening with Mr. Franco.

We had a wonderful long long long very Italian style dinner. We even moved inside when it got cold. I think we were at the restaurant for almost 4 hours. It was lovely. Unfortunately I didn’t get to see him again because the next morning bright and early I went and met the Carter clan.

My father’s oldest brother Jimmy, his wife Beverly their two kids Scott and Shannon. Scotts wife Michelle, Beverly’s sister and brother in law Judy and Al, and Bev and Judy’s dad- the amazing 90 year old “Pop” who kept up with us all the way.

They were a big group. I can’t imagine ever traveling with 8 people.. and after this weekend I know now there’s no way I could. That being said, we had a really really nice time.

We went out and ate fancy dinners and drank delicious wine, we told funny stories and laughed a lot… having my uncle here reminded me so much of my dad- it made me miss dad so much (ahhhhhh). I hooked them up with a private tour of ancient Rome, and on Sat we went to the Vatican on another private tour, that I went on too- it had been a year since I had been in there, and it really is fucking amazing.

They all left this morning- and even though it was so nice to see them, I was relieved to see them off- if only so I can have my fucking life back. I’ve been so neglectful. Today I did laundry and read, and slept past 7am… you know? It was nice.

Anyway.

I have to admit- I’ve been having some very serious reservations about going home. Well, more about leaving than going, truthfully.

It’s really hard for me. And I’m pretty sure it’s only going to get harder.

I don’t want to leave. I mean all my friends are REAL now… you know? And something changed in me about a month ago. I woke up one morning and realized- I can fucking speak Italian. I mean not fluently or anything- but fuck man- I learned it, and I can fucking do it. It’s one of the most amazing things I ever done EVER. And I can’t believe that now that I am finally getting good I’m leaving. It’s so stupid.

But I mean, it’s official, I’m going back and I’m leaving this place. AND IT SUCKS. All my friends know, my job knows. It’s happening a month and a half. Or 44 days to be exact.

I actually get really sad and weird and kinda choked up when I think about it. Because, I’m not done here- I’m not. I’ve just gone broke and I have to go stoke the proverbial financial fires as it were.

At any rate. I’ve constructed a list of things to do before I leave. It’s surprisingly not that long. Mostly I just want to enjoy the city, enjoy my friends. Get really really balls out rowdy on my 30th birthday, cook an enormous Thanksgiving dinner for my British friends who have never had it before, and you know… eat pasta, read more scripts, drive Luigi around and just try to be present and not miss a second of this.

It’s all starting to close in on me. I know in my heart it will all be ok… but sometimes I feeling like I have to do a lot of convincing of myself. It’s intense. But that’s life isn’t it. If it wasn’t intense for me it would mean I wasn’t paying attention. And I refuse to live like that.

A vafanculo. Niente non e importa…. Sono un po stanco, ma in fate tutti va bene.

KINDA TRIPPING OUT

I’m starting to freak out a little bit about leaving. It’s resolved and it’s official, I am leaving Rome. Dec 1st. And it’s dawning on me that I am soon enough going to be back in the States and this life, and this apartment, my job and these people will all be a part of my past.
And, as is normal with moves like these, I have begun to evaluate my time here- what it meant, what I learned, why and if and how I move on- emotionally physically- etc.
And, as I may or may not have mentioned, my friend Leisa Inman has been in and out of town for the past 3 weeks. (Travelling throughout Italy, using Rome as a home base). But she is leaving tomorrow, and being the dope sister that she is, she is taking a suitcase home for me. Mostly summer clothes, some fancy shit I’m not gonna wear, extra bathroom shit that- being that I have zero minus two months left, I won’t use up.
And packing that bag today? It totally bummed me out.
I mean, I’m excited to move on- new heights, new stuff… the boys (!!!!!!!!!) I’m looking forward to Colorado so much. Kinda freaking out about LA actually. I’m ready to move FORWARD not backwards.
I left LA for a reason, and I can’t believe I have to go back. And that makes me wonder what this HAVE TO really means? I mean, yea, I’m fucking broke. And it’s only gonna get worse- and the only place in the world for me to live rent free and make lots o’ cash in a short amount of time, is LA. And I’ve created this- I mean, I spent all my money. I partied and gallivanted in Rome for year, at some point- you gotta go back to work Chase. That’s just a fucking fact.
And maybe that’s a part of it. Is that I have really allowed myself to be on a sabbatical from my life here in Rome… and maybe simply I don’t want to go back to the “real world”. But it feels like more than just that.
There are a lot of pressures for me in LA. There are a lot of roles I play there. Sister, daughter, boss, employee, best friend, second best friend, oldest friend, college buddy, high school friend, ex- girlfriend, industry wanna be, aspiring artist, apartment owner, fellow drinker, Laker fan, Clipper Fan Christmas gift giver, hell, cell phone answerer, Starbucks drinker, Whole Foods lover…ahhhhhhhhhhhh.
I led a very social life in LA, and truthfully, I hate it. At least I’ve came to. Once I had a blast there, but now, I’m done. And you can’t go back.
It’s exhausting for me there. And I don’t want to have to be THAT PERSON. And yea, I can sit here and say I don’t have to, and I’m not going to an blah blah fuck you blah. But- us humans, we don’t change. We have our roles and that’s where we live and how we play.
Who am I kidding to say that when I get to LA my cell phone won’t start ringing and just fucking never stop. And who am I to pretend I wont love every fucking caller. Because I have history with them- with you. But it’s overwhelming there for me.
And I’m not trying to whine. I’m really not. It’s just. LA is like the belly of the beast for me. Go back and work for the man. Go to hell and create advertising for the most gluttonous society in the world. I spent almost a decade selling shit to America. Shit they don’t need, and they can’t afford. And I made a great life out of it. But I became a numb sad vacant version of myself.
And while I KNOW that person won’t come back- because I’ve changed, I know that. It just seems pretty hard-core to have to go there at all. And I think I’m afraid to get stuck there again. Like if I go back and am in LA, that doing that somehow de-values my time in Italy. Like my time here meant nothing.
Whatever. Most days I wake up happy as shit- convinced I’ve got this game beat- or at least I’m winning. And most days I’m right. But it’s time to get on the road again. Because nothing great lasts, ebb, flow blah blah blah. Keep em’ wanting more... that’s what they say right?
If I have learned anything from my time in Italy, it’s that courage is in the stillness. It took all I had to walk away and sit still, and shut the fuck up and listen.

And I won’t loose anything I’ve learned. Especially once I land in Colorado. I just know from experience: LA is the least still place in the world.

SPEAKERS, RAINY DAYS AND DOUBLE DIGITS

Oh it’s October. We have arrived in 2005’s double digits…. It’s fall. I mean it’s totally fall: Rain, grey skies, sweaters, jackets, scarves. It’s fucking wild.

This may not seem like much to you- but this is the first evidence of the change in season I’ve experienced in almost 10 years. IT’S SO FUCKING COOL. I mean, quite simply I had forgotten how cool mother nature is. Not that I am really in her arms- I’ve been surrounded by concrete for going on two decades… but seasons. How awesome they are- how much more aware I am that life is happening, that I am here, that THIS IS IT, all because it’s fall. Another reason to be grateful for life’s little miracles.

A second reason to be grateful is for a little guy I like to call dad.

My father changed my life, and he doesn’t even know it.

Since I arrived here in Feb- my only source of music has been my computer, and my ipod. And that’s it…. I mean sure Italian Top 40 streamed in over the grocery store or whatever… but as I’m sure most of you know the speakers coming out of a computer is like listening to your favorite song from the speakers in an elevator.

It sucks. It’s too quiet, it sounds like shit, it’s just so frustrating…. It’s like a musician’s worst nightmare… seriously.

Now, when I arrived here originally I bought two speakers which exploded and died the first day I plugged them in. Right... 220, 110. Lesson learned. And back in Feb I was still reveling in the release of all things materialistic… I was thrilled to be free of all my crap, and so a life without speakers was one I was willing to live…. I even embraced it. I was thrilled to be without them (almost).

But all these little sacrifices, no TV, no speakers, no dryer, no closet… these things grow heavy after a while, and we remember WHY we have them in our life in the first place… because, simply, they make life better, easier. Better, in small little ways, that I had all but forgotten. I mean- living in my sweet apt, with all that STUFF. Fuck man, I had not one, but 3 closets. 3!!!! and they were fucking huge. Hell I had 3 closets AND 2 garages. Jesus.

And now, after nearly in year, I have finally learned how to appreciate that again.

So now your like, “ok, I get it, she’s happy again… appreciating her luck, her life,“ yawn… “I mean Jesus, Chase we get it your lucky, what in the sam hell does this have to do with your father” you ask- right.

When I was in Cape Cod my father gave me a small but fantastically efficient pair of Sony speakers for my computer. I was thrilled (not about the extra weight in the suitcase, but for the potential of being able to ROCK THE FUCK OUT… you know- turn the music up and jam out like it’s the last night of your life… (god I live for that).

Anyway- I got back a few weeks ago and realized after carrying these fuckers 3000 miles- they are 110 and not 220 capable.

SO I was resigned to accept my fate as an only partial rocker these days. I had made it this far. BUT THEN, yesterday I realized, remembered, whatevered, the speakers take BATTERY.

I cannot explain. I really can’t. Otis Redding’s “I’ve been loving you too long” at top volume- windows open- music filling my room, cascading onto the street below for even the hookers to enjoy….

Total bliss.

Over speakers. Bliss over sound, music, projection. This coming from a girl who had speakers wired into every room of her last apartment. Seriously….

And so- the rainfalls, the air chills, the music plays, and I realize how luck I am to have relearned what it means, to appreciate.

Thanks dad.