Some important life advice for my fellow thirtysomething soldiers...

Hang out with your friends as much as you can.
It should be as high a priority as your job, your family, and your bills.  
Don't just "meet for coffee" or "grab lunch"

Hang OUT.

I spent my last vacation with my best friend of 16 years, Andrew.  I am definitely not interested in boosting this fool's ego, but I gotta say..our laughs and fights were just as much of a vacation highlight as the beaches. There are only a few people in the world whom I  trust to plan an entire Hawaiian trip, who I would engage in a vicious fight about salad, and desperately call into a room because he's going to miss the best episode of the "Fresh Prince of Bel Air" ever.  That's Andrew.

He calls me out on my shit, "Traveling with you is like being with Mackenize from Toddlers and Tiaras!!" and boosts me when I need it without being gross and deeply feeling about it, "ughhh..stop being funny!" Most importantly, I am free to be myself with him. There's no career or make-out agenda. I just want to enjoy his weirdness and my weirdness when I'm with him.  

Andrew's alright.
I really hope you have someone like that alright in your life..
...because if you don't you're lacking, I mean it.

The older we get, the more scheduled our lives becomes. When that schedule gets packed, friends who are not directly connected to your career or family are the first ones to get crossed of the list.

Big mistake.

Whether you are male or female, married or single, Babytown or not Babytown- you MUST actively cultivate those friendships that were there before you were those things. (Jesus, especially the male/female one..you definitely need friends then!)  Not for company necessarily, but to remember who you really are. You're not just a mom or  dad, or a writer, or a teacher..you are funny and weird, complex and deep.  Remembering who you are with your friends keeps thirtysomething stress in perspective and in check.

Promise me you'll start hanging out more.  If you're forgotten how to do this, here's a sample schedule to get you started.  Parents, get a babysitter. A proper hang out takes at least 8 hours.

Book a whole day with your best friend. 
Start with brunch unshowered in your pajamas.  Eat something shockingly unhealthy causing a sugar high which are you guaranteed to crash from a few hours later.  That's fine of course because you'll be back at one of the pre-determined hang-out houses for a nap.  One of you on the couch, the other on the floor with a pillow and an afghan.

Wake up, channel surf until you find something easy on lazy eyes, like "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air"  or "Flip This House".  You can continue to catch up with your friend while Carlton dances.

Then it's time to take a shower if you're going to get to dinner and "The Avengers".  You should start fighting about who is getting in first sooner rather than later.  By this point in the day, you will probably be experiencing some pretty serious cabin fever to push through. Allow for time to do a weird for best friend's eyes only.  Or maybe someone needs to get something off their chest and have a good cry.  Make room for all that.

Get dressed. Change, because your friend told you that shirt is ridiculous and you should never wear it again. On the way to the theater take some more time to catch up and pre-fight about where you should sit in the theater.  One of you should plan on spilling an enormous full soda on yourself, so that the other can make fun of you later.

Say goodbye, but just before bed soda spiller should receive a text along the lines of "remember when you spilled a gallon of coke on yourself?"

And that is how you hang the fuck out.

Flowers in the hair are now banned.
Bikinis under your clothes in case you happen upon a beach won't be necessary 
Mai tais before noon are a sign of alcoholism.

Vacaton is over...almost.

Here are a few thoughts on my three weeks in Hawaii and a bonus week in Los Angeles before I throw in the beach towel.

The best way for me to describe Hawaii is to say "mehhh..it's just ok". 

You'll scrunch up your face in disbelief, "What?! Is Sarah crazy?  Every person I know who has been told me it's paradise! No way is it just 'ok'.  Honey, pack the sunscreen and Hawaiian shirts! I'm going to prove that idiot wrong."

I make you so mad and confused, that I guarantee you won't wait for your honeymoon or 77th birthday to visit the islands.  You'll hike to waterfalls and secret beaches on Kauai.  You'll see active volcanoes and black sand beaches filled with turtles on The Big Island. Then you'll come back to the mainland completely transformed. You'll feel compelled to tell friends that they need to go to Hawaii right NOW.

Thus, making my "Hawaii: Just Ok" misdirect the most innovative and effective tourism campaign in the history of advertising.  I will make a hundred billion dollars, but will live off nothing but the money I make from the coconut stand I open on Kauai because I prefer a simple life.

Who's the idiot now?

Hawaii is exactly as described and a complete surprise, all at the same time.  The drinks really come in coconuts and snorkeling is like being dropped into the biggest aquarium ever.  Turns out tradewinds are the best kind of wind. They are just strong enough to cool you down without mussing your hair, and they always smell like plumeria and gardenia. The classic Hawaiian vacation is a guarantee.  It 100% delivers every time.

It was the extra modern Hawaiian detail, though, that really sold it for me.  New York is diverse as hell, but I swear to God I've never seen so many bi-racial people in one place as I did in Honolulu.  Several salesgirls smoked me out as mixed right away and launched right into the "how do you handle your hair?" discussion...after the secret handshake, of course.  

Polynesians, Japanese, military families, and the business travelers from Alaska..it's a totally different kind of melting pot in which delicious food is made.  The sushi was so fresh I'm sure there are fish swimming in my stomach right now.  Mango/Strawberry smoothies blended with taro root go perfectly with Kalua pork lunch plates from the Hanalei Taro and Juice company.  

And the acai bowls... O. M. Shit the acai bowls!! Imagine being out in the sun for a little too long.  Time for breakfast, but you don't want anything too heavy because you're a little overheated.  Why not blend acai berries to a consistency slightly thicker than the smoothies in Hanalei? Then you could load it up with mangos, strawberries, bananas coconut shavings, and some granola for morning crunch. Maybe you serve it in a chilled bowl? Sure, sure. You can do all that, Hawaii. I'll eat the hell out of that!

All of this set me up to enjoy Los Angeles for the first time in my life. I've gone to LA heaps of times for work. I always run back to NYC scandalized by all the traffic, juice bars, and what everyone calls "the scene." 

The fact of the matter though is that I work in television. Odds are I'll get a long gig in LA at some point in my career.  So I thought it was worth stopping there for a few days on my way home to figure out if it was a scene I could play in.  I rented a room in a cute neighborhood in West Hollywood, asked all of my friends to hook me up with any of their friends there, and got to business.

I got news for ya'...LA is fucking fun.  The weather is amazing, the food is boss, and when I focused on something other than work you'll find that people are pretty friendly and open.  I asked a local Venice guy what I should do to get a good vibe of the area.  I expected a quick store name or favorite beach, but we ended up having lunch together. When I was riding my rental bike in Santa Monica, a girl riding by waved and shouted, "I really love your shirt that's my favorite colorrrrrrrrrr!" It was like living in the open for Three's Company. 

My friends of friends, whom I now consider MY friends, were not "so LA" which is the worst thing a New Yorker could say about someone. They were just regular and funny and weird, which is the best thing I could say about someone.  I forced LaShawn's friend- now my friend- Ben to share dessert with me at Father's Office.  My brother's friend-now my friend-Jack (pictured above) shared a couple of great jokes at Rick Bayless' restaurant, including ordering Choco Tacos for dessert and Cholupas to go.  We also really enjoyed this Siamese Hair Twin photo.

The takeaway from my week in I don't want to live in LA. But now I don't want to NOT live in LA...and that's huge. 

The best part of this whole vacation was that it was just that..a vacation.  For the first time in two plus years of traveling, I actually had a home to return to.  I woke up that last morning in LA as excited to get back to New York as I was when I left for Hawaii at the beginning of the trip.

Leaving New York for New Zealand was the best decision I ever made, no doubt. I'm always down for epic journeys of self-discovery.  But do not underestimate the power of a traditional, restorative vacation. No visas to apply for or money to exchange.  No culture shock or backpacking budgets.

Vacations are just ok.

My name is Sarah Jackson.
You may remember me as the one who had a quarter-life crisis or nervous breakdown, as some might call leaving New York City to move to New Zealand at the age of 34.  I call it "...another one of my brilliant ideas".  

Landed in Auckland, hated it.  Traveled the North Island instead, loved it.
Went back to Auckland to work to get to Australia to play. 

Hung out with family and friends for a month, then flew to the Cook Islands to take pictures and dance at a luau.
I also met a coconut tree climber named Baba whose arms were fromt the Lord.

I went back to Auckland broke as hell, and mad as hell that I was back in Auckland. 

Booked another trip immediately, which I could not afford, to Japan to meet up with a friend from New York. In order to not afford this trip less, I took a temp job counting votes in the Auckland city election.  

I met an awesome girl who loved the Hunger Games more than me.  I met another American who had just moved to New Zealand from Shanghai to be with her Kiwi fiancee.  I bonded with three Samoans who insisted we get to know each other because I was Black and we should stick together.

I also got yelled at for talking..a lot.  

I met Kim in Japan and told her I was sick to death of Auckland, that I was broke as all get out, and that I couldn't believe the Japanese loved donuts as much as I do. She reminded that she doesn't like donuts, and that I could come home anytime I want to.  I believe the advice went it, "F--k it, then. Come home. And if you want to go back to Australia, then go back to Australia." 

So, for almost a year I commuted between Sydney and New York. I would come back to New York and would pick up as much television work as possible, bank it, and then go back to Australia hoping/praying/BEGGING that a job with a sponsorship opportunity would come my way.  

Ok..that all sounds a little familiar, right?  Awesome. Moving on...

The last gig I got was over at Nick Jr, working with the head of on-air creative as the executive producer on their rebrand.  He is also an old friend from my Comedy Central days whom I've seen perform "The Humpty Dance" several times at karaoke. We go back.

The job was originally scheduled to end on January 1 which fit in perfectly with my next trip to Sydney.  I planned on arriving for my birthday, which is the day before Australia day.  As if there was an Australian Zodiac, I figured this was an auspicious day to come back to Sydney and finally lock down that mystery job that I just KNEW was a part of my destiny.

Funny how life never told my destiny the plan, though.  

The deadline on this job ended up being pushed back by a month, and then another month.
Then I got to know and love all the jokers above as we worked really hard to get everything on the air.  They're all crazy talented, mad funny, with great respect for donuts. They also called me by my last name almost immediately, which gets me every freaking time. Only the best people in the world think to call me Jackson.

How could I just leave?

I couldn't. But I also couldn't sublet anymore because, as my English friends would say, it was doing my head in. So I decided to give New York one last shot by signing one last lease. The lease stipulates that if New York City doesn't meet my every wish, whim, and w-expectation this time around, imma ding dong ditch.  

So far, so good... I'm incredibly proud of all the work that is currently running on Nick Jr.  I feel more engaged and excited by my career than I've felt in years. And most importantly- MOST importantly- I feel like I'm surrounded by super talented, super wonderful people who inspire me to do better work and encourage me to have fun while I'm doing it.  As much as I loved Sydney, all of the momentum seemed to be here.

And by "here", I don't mean New York.  "Here", right now, means Hawaii.  

Ahhhhh..suprised you mother f----s, didn't I?!

My best friend is meeting up with me on Thursday to travel the islands. No pics to share yet, so we keep collecting vintage Hawaii shots and tagging each other on Facebook.  It's been so hilarious, I fear that the trip will never live up to this joke.

I arrived a few days early to give two talk at the University of Hawaii. Since I've been back, I've started speaking to undergrad theater and communications majors about how they can stay true to their creative passions and still pay the bills.  It's one of the surprise developments inside that came when I stopped traveling for a moment and really focused on what it is I would like to do next.  And I reeeeeally like doing this.  It gives me the opportunity to tell these kids what I wish someone would have told me 15 years ago.  It's also a great opportunity to make tons of "me as Tony Robbins" jokes, complete with imagining me in a blazer and wireless mic.

"..I see a future president of the United States.  I see a best selling music artist"

It's great.

Ok. You're caught up... and probably confused.  That's fine..so am I.  I pretty much have no idea what's going to happen next.  But, I never did. And sorry to tell you this, but neither do you.  We fool ourselves by planning and scheming ways to build our lives exactly as we would like them to be.  

Then it all falls apart.  
And then we build something new.
Then that falls apart, too.

Here are my only goals right now..

1) Make really good stuff with every chance I get.
2) Love my family and friends so hard they actually know it. 
3) Be a good citizen by paying my bills, saving 20%, and giving back to my community..where ever that may be at any given moment.

It's much more open and vague than most people are used to, I think. And I don't always nail it. But when I do it really pays off big time. It's led me down several roads that I never even knew existed. But when I look at the patches on the digital quilt, they all seem to fit somehow.  

Like a real quilt, it's very comfy.

The following is from an email to some friends asking how my first day at Disney went.  Since I consider anyone who reads this blog a friend, I thought I would pass along.

...Spent my first full day in Orlando at the Animal Kingdom park.  I wanted to catch Andrew in his show, but I had to kill some time on my own.  The wait for Expedition: Everest was only 15 minutes, so I figured I may as well kick the day off on a roller coaster, because that's what normal 35 year old women do.  I sat with a Japanese tourist who spoke 5 words of English. Naturally, I  struck up a conversation. I was my regular Chatty Patty self "Oh!  I love Tokyohhhhhhhhhh!!!" The picture of my new best Japanese friend and I screaming all the way down was almost worth the $25 they were selling it for.  

After the ride of a lifetime, I made it just in time for a bird show called Flights of Wonder. The Bird Lady picked me out of the audience for a little trick she did with a GIGANTIC African crow thing.  (I assume she sensed my theater background.) She asked me to stand with my arm out straight holding a dollar bill. She then released the GIGANTIC African crow thing to retrieve the dollar bill. She joked about wishing I had a 20- and we all laughed and laughed- then the GIGANTIC African crow thing brought my dollar back.  I was happy about that because I had just spent $7.50 at the gift shop on a bottle of water and Goofy shaped mints.  I didn't have much left to spare.

Once the bird show was wrapped and I gave everyone their notes, I mosey'd over to "Harambe" -Animal Kingdom's authentic African village, where you can purchase an authentic African drum and an authentic African pulled pork sandwich.  On the main street, there were some dancers/musicians from Mozambique who had recently relocated to Harambe for work at Disney.  They offered to teach me a traditional dance so I could perform with them. I was drained from my work at the bird show, but as an African-American woman I thought it was important that I get back to my Harambe roots. So I performed for a sold-out crowd of Dads wearing Miami Dolphins shirts and their daughters, dressed as Belle and Mulan.  

This all happened within four hours, and I made sure to post each thing on Facebook and tag Andrew in every update. He loved me and hated me at the same time.  

What else?  I made Andrew take me to Mary Blair's mural at The Contemporary again, and loved it so much... again.  We scored some free tickets to Universal and  the Wonderful Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I had my first butter beer, which was definitely my last. So sweet that I'm pretty sure I contracted an instant case of diabetes.  All of this sightseeing required a lot of driving, so we listened to Book of Mormon nonstop and I made sure to belt like the professional actress, animal expert, African dancer that I am.  

So... the usual.

Here's some video of me dancing in Harambe.

Yesterday, I was so lost in thought obsessing over a production calendar that I blew by my subway stop by at least two. Don't worry..I had my businesslady shoes in my bag and could run to the other platform in my flip flops.

I need a freaking break.

Unfortunately, my visit with Andrew this weekend doesn't count.  I got this text from him while I was hustling to a mix session.

"Sarah! I'm so mad!  I tried the pumpkin spice latte and it was f'ing disgusting!"
"Dick! Everyone knows you're supposed to ask for half the pumps. That is your own fault!"
"YOU'RE A DICK!"

Andrew and I obviously have a lot of business to catch up on.
No rest for the weary. 

I'm not posting super frequently these days... which I'm fine with, really.  But I didn't really feel like I could let the events of last Thursday night go without mention.

In the last week of a sublet, the apartment I was renting was broken into. I came home to find the door wide open, apartment completely ransacked, all of my eletronics stolen, and steak knives scattered all over the place. Since it didn't smell like they cooked dinner, we have to assume they had the knives in case anyone came home early. Namely me. 

This is still a very new and raw thing for me, so I have to tread lightly here.  I feel less angry than I do hurt. Like this was a personal attack on me.  There are also waves of embarrassment, fear, loneliness, and relief that I never had to find out what the steak knives were for. I'm still working through all of those things and I would imagine that's gonna take a minute.  

However,  I really wanted to take the time to add to the library of advice if you should (god forbid) find yourself a victim of a similar crime and are doing some research.  Even if this hasn't happened to you, I am convinced my advice is just as valuable as renters insurance.  Here goes..

Make really good friends.
Be a good friend.

I may not have had insurance, but I had Ami who waited up until I finally arrived at her apartment at 4 am because there was no way I could sleep at home. And she researched car service numbers because my phone was dying. Then when I booked a car she came downstairs to pay for it because I forgot cash.  And before I got in the cab she reminded me to bring my charger so my phone wouldn't die.

On a fully charged phone the next morning, my older sister picked me up and moved me out in the middle of prepping for depositions and her 7 year old's birthday party.  I spent the car ride home calling detectives about police reports and Macmall for a new computer. Unable to let a moment of comedy pass by, my sister directed every single one of my calls into my other ear.  "Good, Sarah. Good!  Now less professional, and more sexy! Command their attention!"  With every, "Shut UP, idiot!" I hissed, I became more and more grateful that my brothers and sisters are also my best friends.

Once I had nailed my sexy, yet professional phone voice, I was able to call friends who responded immediately and just as appropriately.  Some were sensitive and open telling me their own robbery stories, of which there are far FAR too many in New York City.  Others like Danielle were both kind and funny, "I hope you're doing ok, but I thought you would want to see this" and attached a link to an embroidered Khal Drogo...my imaginary boyfriend from Game of Thrones.

And when I got my new computer less than 24 hours later- thanks to another tech'y friend who researched exactly what I needed when I requested a brief description that I could take to a store and say, "get me that!"-I found emails from new friends at my current gig which I completely ghosted from for two days. Not only did they hold the ship together, they found the time to email someone they have only known for a month to make sure I was ok.

Last but not least, I would like to thank Rachel Zoe.

After no sleep all night and telephone calls to clean up this mess all day, I finally crashed at my sister's place and watched a Rachel Zoe Project marathon.  If you have never seen the reality show about this LA stylist to the stars, she pretty much starts every single scene with a Starbucks in hand announcing to her assistants, "This... is a disaster."  Of course, it never is because sensitive assistant Brad cries and disgruntled Taylor gets furious and fixes everything.  It always, always works out and Anne Hathaway gets the gown she needs for the oscars just in time.

I couldn't skip the burglary here, because I would never skip Australia here... or the Cook Islands or The Cookie Games.  There are ups and downs, and that's how it goes.  Just be sure to spend a little time investing in some good friends. They'll help you take care of everything.

This sucks. Bad.
But it is not a disaster.

Fucking go somewhere.
Anywhere.
Don't delay.  

I've been working my face off since I got back, but this week I started a new gig which will require the full-on NYC subway commute. It's a great opportunity, super interesting, and runs for four months so I won't have to hustle for a minute. Buuuuut...

"But what?", my sister said.
"I don't know..I'm going to have to go into the city everyday and ride the subway."
"...F--k you! This is real life!"

I don't know.  Is it really real life?

I get that writing from home can't happen everyday.  And there has been something nice about getting a work station set up away from where I live and watch Game of Thrones on an endless loop. However, I refuse to accept that the subway ride is my real life, because if that were the case I would have ended it years ago. Instead, I've spent my entire professional adult New Yorker life learning how to block out the stressful commute with iPod and Kindle.  Or if I forget to charge any of these distractions, good old fashioned daydreaming Walter Mitty style works just fine.

It's when the daydreams outnumber your favorite playlist that you are probably having a nervous breakdown...or at least super depressed. If I had sold the rights to my regular daydreams before I made my decision to leave NYC, they would have been adapted into a movie called "Anywhere But Here, starring Thandie Newtown". The closer to the nervous breakdown I got, the more vivid my "anywhere, but here" mental pictures became. I didn't know what I wanted anymore, except that it had to be totally opposite.  Looking back on my pictures of the Cook Islands now, I realize that The Anywhere was there.

Now that I've actually been there and heaps of other places- snorkeled in Aitutaki, ate ice cream with local Raro kids, hiked with a Polynesian medicine man, the usual- I don't want to kill myself on the subway.  Don't get me wrong, I am still above my body for every single miserable stop.  But now I can call up real-live memories to get me through. No more vague wishes and prayers to break me out of Manhattan jail. 

When I'm in businesslady mode, I am very particular about what kind of notebook I carry from meeting to edit session.  It needs a hardcover so I don't need a desk, wall, or back to lean on.  It has to be lined because I have the handwriting of a serial killer and my penmanship needs all the help it can get.  And it's just gotta feel..right, man.  I described my needs to the excellent assistant on our project and today he drove by my workspace to bestow upon me the notebook of my dreams.

"Oh my god. Yes!  This is exactly what I needed. Thank you!!"

After he walked a little too far away for me to be talking to him still, again...

"Yes..thank you!  Perfect!!"

Now that I've lived the daydream, it seems I have a better appreciation for the small surprises of my regular life.  Since I can't live in both worlds at the same time, it's always nice to visit. And when I'm missing one of those worlds terribly..

Well, that's what daydreams on the shitty awful subway are for.

Kim introduced me to Pinterest yesterday which was a terrible idea. I have a ton of work to do over the next few weeks. Way too tempting to put that off and just decorate my imaginary home on my virtual pinboard. This WPA tourism poster is currently at the top of my list.

The good news is a lot of this work is actually for Kim. She's going to have to be understanding. This is her own damn fault.

Follow me if you'd rather not work today either. Kim won't mind.

Last year at this time, I was declaring my American Independence in New Zealand. You may remember that the night before I had made out with my neighbor, a Kiwi Uni student who definitely high-fived me before he came in for the french.  I'm sure the thrill and embarrassment of it all did not help my crappy metric math when I converted that blueberry pie recipe. Tasted like heaven and looked like hell, but it didn't matter.  I was doing whatever the hell I wanted with new people in a new place.   

A year later, I'm home and leaning in hard to my American traditions.  A barbecue hosted by my friends Scott and Ami with snacks so good I talked about them for three days after.  A trip upstate to hang with my fam in the country, including a 5k run through my hometown and a hot fudge sundae at the local creamery to counter any of the positive effects of that run. The same ol', same ol'..which is really pretty good ol'.

Some friends at the barbecue asked me if it was hard to come down from my year abroad, and I answered "YES!", probably a little too quickly and loudly.  I've made no secret here about how hard the transition has been and that I'd much prefer to be on vacation forever. (So much so that I plan on having a t-shirt made that says, "Vacation Foreverrrrrrr!")  But my heart did swell up when I was introduced by my last name at the barbecue.  I laughed my face off at "Coming to America" with my family when we were lucky enough to catch it on one of the 10,000 HBOs. And it felt great to duck under the leafy green branches of a maple tree as I jogged through my hometown.

There is no point in explaining why that typical American summer weekend is so perfect to my Australian friends.  (Nothing will make you feel more homelsss than trying to explain why "Soul Glow" is so awesome to a bunch of backpackers on a bus headed to Noosa.)  Getting back to my roots here is crucial.  Just tired of feeling torn between what feels like two different lives. So I'm working hard to merge it into one. 

I've declared my independance. Now I'm looking for a little freedom.