A couple of weeks ago I hinted that some big things were about to happen and, well, I'm still waiting for them. I know. I know. My Type A east-coasters and LA motivational junkies are wanting to know why I don't just make them happen and BELIEVE me I've been trying which is probably why I've ended up hitting a wall. Any of you who have been in projects with me know how pushy I get when things aren't happening. I push so hard the projects tend to break. Sooo, I've been trying to take a more relaxed approach with the people I'm waiting on.

I went outside with my yerba mate cooled down by almond milk and tried to enjoy the flavor while also keeping the dogs within my presence. Usually, they ruin my calm, but they have to be let outside during my peaceful morning time or they'd create trouble for me. They already shed as though they're molting mammals and shake off an unearthly amount of dust. I'm expecting a new puppy to rise from the dirt they bring in.

Balls are rolling that I'm not ready to drop on you until they've reached unstoppable momentum. I simply wanted to say, "Hello," and assure you that I'm indeed alive and kicking. I'd been feeling a bit down and insecure about my course of action as I'm literally feeling the stagnation physically, but my hero of the month, Barb, got me up and rolling again and, in fact, has brought me to realize how many people believe in me. Thanks, everybody!

In elementary school, children can't wait til recess. Older students make all of their plans for lunch break. I'd just as soon be working. I suppose that's an attitude of many in this recession. I'm relieved that I've been a starving artist for so long that the recession means little to me, except that I hoped to buy a house. That's not new. It's been a dream since I was in junior high and I started scouting when I was seventeen. I found the perfect investment in Oakland, CA when I was nineteen or twenty. That house, indeed, turned out to be a gold mine. For somebody.

You can imagine where it went from there. She stood at the top of the stairs trying to keep her tiny frame standing still and upright. When I collected myself I questioned, “Did you hear anything I said?” Oh my. Her response was something to the loving effect of, “Yes. I did. And you can leave. I don’t need you in my life. If you can’t understand me you can get the fuck out.” At this moment, I switched to salvage mode.

For the next week I either layed in bed or ran around visiting family depending upon whether or not I could use my mom’s car. I missed a couple of voiceover auditions and didn’t get to see everyone. I’d also almost forgotten that it was my birthday, but my cousin Leanne reminded me when I invited her to lunch on my birthday.

Happy Valentine's Day, Young Lovers!

A great deal of time has passed and I have quite a long story to tell you all, but since I know most of you barely make it past the first paragraph, I'm inviting you to read my blog on myspace or www.amyarena.com/blog where I'll reveal some unofficial, but weighty news.

Known for her sass and brass, Amy Arena's spotted and colorful existence captivates even the most cynical audience. Recently, she returned to the Detroit stage for her first appearance in an Abreact production as a sacchariny-sweet character in Sam Shepard's Action. Since moving in the fall of 2001, this firecracker has performed in an Off-Broadway show in New York, recorded vocals in Philly, and written a play in Puerto Rico.

I often remark that my grandfather and I have been arguing about politics since I was seven. You may find that ridiculous, but no one in my family will argue against that. He was a quietly relgious, small-business man and community pillar with a heart of gold. A heart, in fact, that couldn't see that the politicians he voted in were sinking him faster than a burning pirate ship. With him as my family, but growing up as a pitied child of a single-parent, I didn't come from the other side of the tracks, but had a clear vision from my perch as to what was happening.

Late Sunday night I drove past D.C. on the way back to New Jersey on a trip with my mom and thought for a moment that I should come down to witness the upcoming inauguration. Having spent more than a month "out of town," however, I just couldn't make the traffic or the crowds sound thrilling. My boyfriend also threw in a text message stating that the the event coordinators fell short in the port-a-potty department by 20,000 and the thought left as quickly as it presented itself. Philly might be a pleasant second.