L.A BABY

Overview 

L.A. BABY follows SELF, an aspiring writer and actress as she arrives in Hollywood, fresh-faced, wide-eyed, and open to everything - chasing the American dream. 

With thousands of actors descending on the streets of Los Angeles each year in the hopes of one day "making it," rarely does anyone succeed. But like anything, if you stick it out long enough, things start to happen. And slowly, ever so slowly doors begin to open, and opportunities arise from the most obscure places.

Those nightmare gigs to buy groceries and pay the gas bill before it’s cut off occasionally pay off, and you might find yourself rubbing shoulders with Angelina Jolie in the supermarket, or getting offered an audition for a Tom Cruise movie while in your underwear in a jacuzzi.

And then you meet someone who sweeps you up, and you lose yourself in a haze of lust, or love - or both. Over time, cracks appear, and you look back at the first signs of trouble which you chose to ignore, determined not to let negativity ruin this opportunity you believed to be love.

Disagreements turn into fights which escalate quickly, and soon you find yourself in a world you no longer recognize. You're walking on eggshells. Your new to-do list consists of a safety plan and secretly searching for new apartments. You go to bed wondering if the man you’re sleeping next to might kill you one day.

You finally make the jump. You run away with trash bags of clothes and no real plan of what comes next. Reality sets in, you’ve made yourself and your pets homeless. You stagger around trying to find anywhere to stay, and eventually a friend agrees to house you for a few nights. You spend the next few days on zero sleep, buzzed on coffee and adrenaline. You find a new place to live. The area’s a little sketchy, but you’re desperate, so you take it.

A few months pass, and you become used to the "Pap Pap" of shrapnel being shot into the air or into the chest of a gang member who was shot too soon. Then you find out the monster you ran away from is stalking you, he’s moved just five minutes away from your new address. Your home is not safe. Not after the gas leak. You’re on first-name terms with the cops who regularly pop by to ask questions about the latest shooting.

You're lonely. You are alone. And just on cue, the monster who’s been lurking in the background senses your vulnerability. It’s your birthday coming up, and he’s been waiting patiently for you to hit rock bottom, which happens every year.

He casually reaches out. He’s back in AA, wants to apologize and make amends. He’s sober. He’s sorry.

You promise yourself you won’t see him. You promise those around you that you’ve moved on, but you’re lying to yourself and you know it. The shame creeps up inside you like a paralyzing virus. You can’t bear to look at your own reflection. You don’t recognize yourself anymore.

The only person you hate more than yourself is the monster. And begrudgingly, you accept that this similarity has formed a bond between you, one so tight it feels suffocating when you’re with him, and suffocatingly painful when you’re apart. You believe the only person who truly understands you and the situation is the monster. So you let him back in. Maybe this time it will be different. And for a short while, you see glimpses of the man you first met. He’s still there, you convince yourself. But the monster can’t keep up the act forever, it exhausts him. He slips up faster this time. He snaps. He loses control. You spend the next few years going through cycles of alienating each other circling back to cozy dinners and watching Netflix. Convincing yourself that you’re in control and putting yourself first. 

Trauma attracts traumatic people. Every job you take on seems to come with a severe degree of abuse. None of this makes sense to you at the time, it’s just Hollywood, but what you don’t realize is that your self-esteem is so low you’ll accept anything, and anyone. You have no boundaries. You lost those years ago.

Crazy nanny jobs. Walking cats around swimming pools. Employers exploiting your time, keeping you late, leaving you to ask: “Sorry, do you mind sending over last week's pay? I’m late with rent.”

You convince yourself this is all for the greater good. You're following your dream. One day this will all be worth it. But your dream was lost years ago when you stopped putting yourself first. When you listened to those bitter people who failed, when you ignored your intuitive voice, the one you’ve spent years dumbing down.

You're surrounded by the beauty of the Californian landscape. You've hiked mountains, swum in shark-filled waters, come face-to-face with a mountain lion, but none of it compares to the danger of the monster and his gun threats. You arm yourself with a restraining order, gun training and you check your car for trackers. You become paranoid, angry, you wonder if you're going mad. You don’t want to be driven out. You don’t want to leave your home, but deep down, you know it’s going to happen. And the really fucked-up thing is… you’re still hoping for that call from Hollywood. That somehow, all of this has been worth it. That you prevailed. "Congratulations you’ve booked it." You're flight comes round sooner than you expecteced. You pack what you can carry - just your pets and leave the rest behind.