By Michael Tessler
We’ve got quite a bit to catch up on. It has been over a year since I published what I thought was the last Open Mike column. In that time I’ve lived what feels like a dozen lives.
I’ve moved across the country twice; hosted a radio program; attended the premiere of our first feature film at the prestigious Stony Brook University Staller Center; helped produced an underwater television special starring Sir Richard Branson and the grandson of ocean explorer Jacques Cousteau; successfully filmed several historic short films taking place in the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries; and was brought on as a ghostwriter for a compelling biography for a fitness guru/entrepreneur in Atlanta.
Shortly thereafter I began developing an online school for emotional intelligence and am in the process of writing a corresponding children’s book. Interspersed between all that I founded my own production company, announced my candidacy for a local councilman position and, perhaps most importantly, lost 132 pounds in my effort to live a healthier and happier life.
It has been a long, hard and wonderful year riddled with obstacles and seemingly insurmountable odds. Reflecting back on it all, it doesn’t quite feel real. I’m writing all this because I’m exhausted and a little frustrated at the pace of things lately. Sometimes we as people have to force ourselves to look at our progress rather than just our mistakes or perceived failures. Don’t worry, I make plenty of mistakes too and have been the proud beneficiary of a practical education of failed efforts and misguided attempts.
Presently, I’m at home sitting in a very comfortable leather chair several blocks south from the Hollywood sign. Internally, I’m making the most difficult Los Angeles decision a person can make: protein shake or grilled chicken with avocado? God, what I’d do for a New York bagel.
Being a New Yorker in Los Angeles is a lucrative thing. You’ve got the hustle, honesty and helium-like ego required to keep up and in some cases rise above the fast-paced, self-obsessed world of glamour, fame and film. I’ve been here just three months so far. It truly feels like a lifetime.
This city is quite a change of pace from Orlando where I lived for nine months after my dad’s fourth brain surgery. Being so far away from family during such a difficult time just didn’t settle right. I’m blessed I was able to pick up my life and move down south. After a whirlwind of a time in Florida that included some serious self-reflection and losing 132 lb (a column for another time), a very scary experience with internal bleeding and lots of personal development, my family finally said it was time for me to pursue my dreams and to stop sleeping on their couch.
From my rooftop you’ve got an ideal view of the Hollywood sign and the massive Netflix building. Sometimes I swear these monuments stare me down — as if to taunt with motivation. These two icons represent the new and old of an ever-evolving industry. Every decision I make must be done to create not just forward professional momentum in the film/television industry that is, but also upward professional propulsion toward the film/television that will be. This can be frustrating and conflicting at times.
My apartment complex is brand new. Since my roommate is from Texas, neither of us were able to visit the place before signing the lease. It is a competitive process to find the right location and price. “Adulting” is hard. Up until the moment my car pulled up, I was not entirely convinced the place was real. Was half-expecting we’d find an abandoned auto body shop or sketchy cash-only “jewelry” store. Thankfully, my internal optimist prevailed.
It’s a nice place, almost too nice — always imagined my first place in Hollywood would have at least some kind of varmint living in the walls. Nothing yet, just very annoying ice cream trucks and the occasional scream in the distance — we live near a high school so it’s hard to tell whether it is an excitable soccer mom or a murder most foul. Gotta love city living. Now that I’m a pseudo-grownup, all of our furniture matches one style instead of the typical postcollegiate hodgepodge of couches and chairs acquired curbside on Sheep Pasture Road in Port Jefferson. This is progress, people.
While I’ve always loved the IDEA of being an adult — this notion that my workday would end with a copy of the Wall Street Journal in my hands, Bing Crosby on the record player and myself looking dapper in tweed jacket with elbow patches is quite different than the reality. Just yesterday I found myself alternating between opening bills and handwashing a massive stack of dishes that were so dirty even the dishwasher quit. This of course occurred while I was blasting SpongeBob reruns on my television. I’m 25 years old and I’ll defend SpongeBob till the day I die.
In all the many changes this year brought, I’m often reminded of where it came from. Part of why I’m bringing Open Mike back is because it was this community that raised me. You paid the taxes that paid for my schooling — you might as well see some return benefit in the form of my column.
Heidi, our amazing leisure editor is going to throw a fit when she sees how long this so let me wrap it up.
What story do you leave behind in a city of stars and storytellers? For some it’d be the Oscars or Emmy perhaps. For me? I’d like to do something to make my hometown proud. Something worthy of a plaque on the Hall of Fame at Port Jeff High School. I know that sounds silly, but where you come from and never allowing distance or success to make you forget — that is what I strive for. All of my good fortune, my confidence and dreams began because of the place and people who raised me. So I give my everlasting thanks and gratitude to you. Home is always home, so yes, Hooray for Hollywood … but most importantly, GO ROYALS!
Catch Open Mike on a monthly basis in TBR News Media’s Arts & Lifestyles.