StarSitter: Thank God For You! (Synopsis)

Everyone keeps asking me what my new book is about, so I thought I would post the synopsis here for you to read. I'm looking at a release for sometime in October and a book signing in November when I nail down a date with Indigo Bookstore. By the way, love my cover? My friends Jordana Lieberman Hay and Amy Levine did it! Now then, here you go:

   




                                                                                                                                                                                                                                



             A drunken-dial from a fallen teen queen?

·                             Spray tanning in a boutique clothing store?

·                            A disastrous first pitch at a Chicago Cubs game?

Thirty-year-old Grace Daniels’ life comes full circle when she receives a phone call from the publicist of former Hollywood it girl, Maddy Malone. Fresh out of rehab, Maddy is returning to Chicago for a part in a low budget Indie film and discovers that her former guardian is now the host of her own talk show, called As Good As Grace. Having already rejected both Oprah and Ellen’s pleas for an interview, Maddy decides that her first public appearance ought to be on Grace’s show instead. When the two are reunited, Maddy is shocked and enticed by the new and improved Grace. It seems that Grace has cultivated a new image with her recently highlighted hair, hot boyfriend Jesse, and expensive designer duds. Maddy is acutely aware that Grace has moved on up, Jefferson –style.

Grace is also astonished by some distinct changes in Maddy since they were last together. For instance, Maddy, once consumed with haute couture, now shops at the Gap and resorts to selling her old designer bags to the crew on set when she needs extra cash. Even more surprising is the revelation that Maddy has also essentially dispensed with her freeloading and attention seeking mother, who, she explains, due to a Botox mishap only came to visit Maddy once while she was in rehab. When Maddy’s hotel reservation is lost, the perpetually self sacrificing Grace makes a split second decision to help her and finds herself in even more ludicrous adventures with her young protégée. Overwhelmed and sleep deprived, Grace struggles to keep Maddy afloat while the young starlet comes to terms with the fact she is no longer dazzling the paparazzi on the red carpets or wowing them at Cannes. As they embark on this journey together, both Maddy and Grace learn that sometimes in life, stepping up to the plate and helping others can be your ticket to salvation and the true path to glory and fame.

"What I did this Summer," by Andrea Dana

As the first day of school is upon us, lots of kids will be writing this essay.  However, if I was still teaching in classrooms, I think I'd change the title to, "What I learned this summer." I mean, anyone can list off things like: Wonderland x10, summer camp, and backpacking Europe. I'm more interested to know how a kid's education was furthered by the activities he/she took part in. It's not just because I'm a teacher, but because I learned a few things about myself this summer too. You see, for the past year and a half people have been telling me how "strong" I am for the things I have gone through, which I seem to always reply "Really? You think so?" I never feel like I'm so strong. I always feel like I'm just doing what I have to do. I mean, I guess I could lie down on the floor and never get up again, but what good would that do?  In my opinion, when you are forced into a situation that is beyond your control, you'd be surprised how much strength you have. A lot of people have said "I don't know what I'd do if one of my parents died." The truth is, they'd do exactly what I've had to do. Keep going.  What I do believe is that there is a difference between being strong and being brave. From what I have learned this summer, being brave takes a lot more strength than being strong does. Therefore, this summer I learned how brave I am. Not only did I make the decision to put my sixteen-year-old Lhasa Apso, Charlie, down. That took strength, but I also made BRAVE decision to not leave his side while it was done. I held him and hugged him while the vet put him to sleep in my parent's backyard by the swing. I really surprised myself with that one. At first, I didn't think I'd be able to be present to watch my best buddy die. I anticipated that I'd be screaming, crying, and to be honest, puking. I felt so much guilt that I was taking Charlie away from my two other dogs, Lucy and Molly, and was terrified over how they'd react over it. (they weren't present when Charlie was put to sleep) I'm not going to go into detail about the process of euthanasia, but to say that it is probably the most humane and peaceful way for a living being to die. The time frame from the injection to Charlie's final breath probably took twenty seconds at the most and within that last breath I could feel his sigh of relief. He fell asleep. Just like that. No more suffering. No more pain. Afterwards, my good friend Wendy directed me to a link that she thought would be helpful. It is the story of "Rainbow Bridge." I wanted to share this with you, and strongly encourage you to read it and definitely share it with anyone you know who has lost a pet. http://petloss.com/rainbowbridge.htm
I'll be honest, I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I was really proud of myself that I went through with such a selfless act. I had gotten to a point where I knew that I was holding onto Charlie so that I didn't have to suffer another loss in my life.
I am so thankful to still have  Lucy and Molly, who have been a huge comfort to me and have barely left my side. It makes me want to go storming back to that hoarder shrink that I went to see, Dr. NOT Oprah and say to her, "Hey Big Edie (that's a Grey Gardens joke). This is why I have so many dogs!!!"

A few days after Charlie passed away, I went with my cousin Marla and two of her three children to Centre Island. I am sure I hadn't been there in over twenty years. As we got off the ferry, I felt like I had stepped into a time warp. I don't think anything had changed since my last visit there, other than the fact that I no longer fit into those little fire engine cars that I used to drive on the tracks as a kid. However, I am happy to say that I still fit into the logs at the Log Flume Ride...and yes, I went on it three times, got soaked, and loved every second of it. I felt so nostalgic that day. I had spent a lot of time at Centre Island as a kid in the 70s. My dad used to take us there all the time. We even had a little sailboat docked there that we'd take a ride in, if my dad could remember where he had left it, or how to even sail it, but those are small details.
I learned something else while I was on the train ride that takes you around the island. The same train ride, that as a kid, seemed WAY longer and the island seemed WAY bigger. I was sitting with my little cousin Kaia, who's five-years-old, and as we went along the tracks, she pointed out other rides she wanted to go on. We both got excited as we saw all the animals on the little farm. As we went through the tunnel, all the little kids let out shrieking screams of excitement mixed with fear to be in the darkness. Kaia gave out a few little yelps and then poked me in the arm and said, "Look Cousin Andrea there's the light at the end of the tunnel!" Talk about an eye-opener. It was indeed the light at the end of the tunnel. The one I've been looking for, for the past eighteen months. Marla and I laughed over the irony of it, but something inside me finally clicked.
I was lying in bed last night thinking how my life has become so psycho. One day I'm putting my dog to sleep, the next day I'm doing an interview on Etalk Canada. One day I'm at my dad's unveiling, the next day I'm partying it up with Noah Wyle, Peter Shinkoda, and the rest of my "Fallen Skies" friends. So really what have I learned this summer? Life is full of many ups and downs. I can't have one without the other. However, when I accept the brave decisions I need to make, live in the moment and believe everything will work out eventually, maybe I won't need a five-year-old to point out the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe next time I'll be able to find it myself.
So as you all go back to school, back to work, or just get that same end of summer dread that you get every year, try to think about everything you learned this summer. Whether a teacher asks you to write it down, or not, somehow store it in your memory and keep on going.

100 Books For 2010

I have recently taken on a challenge with my friend Rebekah to read 100 books for 2010. Since we are already half way through the year, we are just doing it as our own personal goal. However, for 2011 we plan on doing a charity event where other people can take part. So stay tuned for that. Since I began this challenge, it has become a great topic of conversation and I have found myself talking and thinking about books non-stop. I was at a friend’s Birthday party two weeks ago and was talking with a friend when my friend Sarah, also a reader and a teacher, came running up to me telling me to come join her conversation because she’s talking to a librarian. A librarian! These days that’s almost the equivalent to telling me she was talking to God, but way better!

I’ve had a lot of people asking me for book recommendations and to please write a blog listing my most favorite books I’ve read so far this year. Right now I am at #35 out of 100 and Rebekah is at #44 out of 100. So we have each made a list of our top 15. Some of them are the same and as you will see we have similar tastes in our selections.  So without further to do, here are our top 15 lists (in no particular order).

  

Andrea’s Top 15:

1.       Little Bee, by Chris Cleave

2.       The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion

3.       A Complicated Kindness, by Miriam Towes

4.        Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson

5.        The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon

6.        The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery

7.        The Art of Power, by Thich Nhat Hanh

8.        The Friday Night Knitting Club, by Kate Jacobs

9.         Let the Great World Spin, by Colum McCann

       The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters, by Elisabeth Robinson

        The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, by Mary Ann Schaffer

        The Help, by Kathryn Stockett

        Sarah’s Key, by Tatiana deRosnay

        A Three Dog Life, by Abigail Thomas

        Broken Open, by Elisabeth Lesser

  Rebekah’s Top 15:

1.       Not That Kind of Girl: A Memoir, by Carlene Bauer

2.        Bobbed Hair and Bathtub Gin: Writers Running Wild in the Twenties, by Marion Meade

3.        Committed, by Elizabeth Gilbert

4.        A Wolf at the Table, by Augusten Burroughs

5.        What French Women Know About Love Sex and Other Matters of the Heart and Mind, by Debra       Ollivier

6.        How We Decide, by Jonah Lehrer

7.       Intimate Terrorism: The Deterioration of Erotic Life, by Michael Vincent Mille

8.        The Road, by Cormac Mc. Carthy

9.        The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, by Mary Ann Schaffer

        The Liars’ Club, by Mary Karr

        A Girl Named Zippy, by Haven Kimmel

        The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, by Mark Haddon

        Slow Motion, by Dani Shapiro

        Run Catch Kiss, by Amy Sohn

        The Rum Diary, by Hunter S. Thompson

           Feel free to put any recommendations in the comments box. I still have 65 more to go and         Rebekah has 55. 

15

Dr. Forget Me Not!

I apologize for the delay in continuing with my blog, but I have been busy working on two shows this past month and hadn't had a chance to update you on my shrink progress. Unfortunately, there has not been much progress, other than the fact that I'm starting to think these doctors may be more in need of help than I am.
I never made another appointment with Dr. NOT Oprah, although it is still in the back of my mind that I might go back. My family doctor, who was appalled when I had told her what had happened, decided that I must move on and referred me to a psychiatrist in the outpatient clinic at the North York General. I am a bit apprehensive about going to hospitals, mostly because of how much parking costs there, but I figured it was worth a try. As I walked into the waiting room I was immediately greeted by a middle age Asian woman who yelled out at me "You're Gorgeous!!" Obviously, I went and sat beside her, and felt so good as she kept repeating how gorgeous I am. That is, until an old woman with a cane, probably in her early hundreds, walked in and the lady beside me blurted out to her how gorgeous she was too.
My first two appointments with Dr. Forget Me Not went quite well. She was a breath of fresh air after what I had recently experienced. I felt like she really got what my issues were, and did not once reprimand me for not being married with children as Dr. Not Oprah had.
Since I was starting on set the next week, I told her that I would call in to make an appointment once I had a better idea of what my schedule would be like. On my way out I noticed the Asian lady still sitting in the waiting room beside a very agitated man telling him how gorgeous he was.
A few weeks later when I had a free day, I was able to make an appointment with Dr. Forget Me Not for 1:45 on a Thursday. I was slightly annoyed when the receptionist said she'd only be able to see me for fifteen minutes? Fifteen minutes??? Seriously??? So basically I'd have time to put my purse down, push my sunglasses onto the top of my head, and then when she asks me how I'm doing I wouldn't even have time to give my answer before she said time's up. But, I figured she had been helpful at my previous two appointments with her, plus it was worth it if the Asian lady was there to tell me I was gorgeous, especially since I'd been having negative feelings about my hair in this humidity.
Unfortunately, Dr. Forget Me Not wasted the first ten of those fifteen minutes trying to remember who I was. She had no recollection of me. When she came out of her office and called my name and I was who appeared before her, she had a blank look on her face.
"You're Andrea?" she asked.
"Yes, hi," I said, thinking she was expecting another Andrea, not that she had no clue who I was.
"Oh, I haven't seen you before, right?" she asked.
"Yes, you've seen me. I mean, you haven't seen me in a month, but you've seen me," I replied.
"Really? Okay come in." We walked into her office and I took a seat while she went through her file trying to trigger her memory. I sat there in shock.
I kid you not when I tell you that I have looked the same since I was three years old, other than the fact that I now have boobs and better eyebrows. How could she not remember me? Isn't this part of her job. I seriously would like to see the criteria to be a psychiatrist these days. I think the rules have changed since the days of my ancestors. Finally it dawned on her who I was.
"Oh right, you're the one that wrote a book!" she said. I wanted to tell her well yes, that's who I am, but that's not why I am here.  However, then I decided that if all I was to get out of coming to Dr. Forget Me Not was a book sale or two, then at least my royalties would pay for my hospital parking.
Needless to say, I'm not sure if I will go back or not. I may take a little break from shrinks for now and  stick to bibliotherapy, which is the name I use for healing myself through reading. I will talk about that in my next blog.

Happy G20 weekend everyone!

Dr. NOT Oprah

My family doctor sent me to a new therapist, who she thought would be able to help me deal with my grief better than “Oprah.” When the new therapist, Dr. NOT Oprah, called to schedule an appointment with me, she seemed like a very sweet woman. I even got the feeling that she was somewhat spiritual, and was I excited for our first session. She worked from home, located on a nice street near my old High School. Her house was noticeably the most decrepit one on the street and as I pulled into the driveway, I thought I had stepped onto Gray Gardens during the hoarding years. There was garbage everywhere, and unkempt vines growing all over the house. I didn’t want to judge her because of this. Maybe she was too busy curing grief to deal with the state of her home. I opened the side door and was immediately hit by the stench of a mix between smelly feet and curry… not one of my favorite flavors. I sat down in the tiny waiting room and barely had time to read the chart about depression on the wall, when suddenly a girl came out of another room, dashing past me and crying. I didn’t pay much attention to it, thought she was just crying ‘cuz of the smell. I went on reading the depression sign and eagerly waited my turn. Dr. NOT Oprah came out to get me and directed me into her office where I was told to sit in a broken chair instead of on the dusty couch. I had to concentrate on keeping my weight mostly in my feet so I wouldn’t fall through. I felt like it was an exercise in meditation, focusing on the present by not breaking my neck. Dr. NOT Oprah immediately picked up a pad of paper and started writing, before I even spoke a word. Then she asked me some information about my health card, address, phone number etc. Next question was:

“Are you single or married?”

Me: Um, single.

She paused to write down some notes on that. The she looked up and stared at me.

“So why was it so urgent that you come and see me?”

Me: Well it wasn’t urgent, but I’ve had a rough time lately. My dad died…..

 She cut me off. “When did he die?”

Me: In January.

She started counting the months on her fingers, then glanced up and removed her glasses.

“Your dad died in January and you’re STILL upset?”  I was quite taken off guard with that comment and for a minute wasn’t sure if she was serious.

Me: Um, yes I am still upset. It really hasn’t been that long.

She leaned in closer to me. “Why aren’t you married?”

Me: Pardon?

“Why haven’t you found a husband yet?”  I was silent, having flashbacks to that girl who had told me it must be so awful to go through a loss when I don’t have a husband. Dr. NOT Oprah continued. “If you had found a husband in your twenties like you were supposed to and had your own family, you wouldn’t be so upset about your father dying.”

I let out a noise, which was half-laugh and half-gasp.

Me: I think I’d still be upset whether it was four months or four years.

 She ignored my question. “Why aren’t you seeking a husband?” she yelled at me.

I decided to give her what she wanted.

Me: I’m seeking, I’m seeking!

Dr. NOT Oprah continued to glare at me, writing things down in her notes. Finally she changed the subject.

“What do you do for a living?”

Me: I’m a teacher. I work in film on movie sets and teach the young actors that……

“I don’t understand this. What board do you work for?” she was yelling again.

Me: I don’t work for a board. I’m self-employed.

“You don’t work for a board? If you worked for a board you’d be making over sixty thousand a year. How much money do you make?”

Trust me, I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.

Me: I don’t discuss the amount of money I make.

She continued writing down notes on her paper. Probably saying how I’m unwilling to cooperate or something. She looked up and gave me an evil smile.

“What else happened to you that you’re having such a rough time?”

Me: Well I’m still sort of recovering from the trauma from a German Shepherd attacking my dogs and I.

She raised her eyebrow.

“Dog-Sa?” with emphasis on the ‘s’ and then a short vowel after.

Me: Yes. Dog-Sa

“How many do you have?”

Me: 3

At the same time her mouth and pencil both dropped.

“YOU HAVE 3 DOG-SA?” she roared. I was a bit taken aback by this.

Me: Um, yes.

“Why do you have 3? Why do you need so many dogs?”

Me: I’m an animal lover. I like dogs.

“How did that happen? How did you end up with 3?”

I have this thing that when someone is telling me off, who is not living a life that I envy, or is not any sort of role model to me, I can’t take what they say seriously.

I was sitting in a broken chair, in a dirty house with this crazy woman screaming at me. It was the best therapy ever. I had never felt so normal in my life. But boy, if you don’t have a good sense of humor or a thick skin, this woman could really damage you. Who knows what she had said to that girl before me to make her cry. I let out a big sigh and glanced over at my blackberry to check the time.

“I think you’re very needy.”

Me: Excuse me?

She started waving her finger at me.

“Here you are crying over your parents, when you should be out having your own husband and own family.”

Oy, we were back at that again. I laughed out loud this time.

“You’re laughing, but it’s true.” More laughter. I looked around for Ashton Kutcher’s cameras. I was for sure being punk’d. It was definitely a good joke though. Dr. NOT Oprah glanced at her watch.

“Well our time is up. So this is how I conduct my sessions. Would you like to make an appointment for next week?”

Me: Hmmm. Why don’t I think about it. You know take a couple days to digest all the solid advice you gave me.
I got up to leave and she said,

“I think you have a lot of potential, Miss Eisen.” 

On my way home I told my friend from “The Centre,” about my appointment. As appalling as it was, we still laughed our heads off and made many jokes about it. The reactions my friends have had to this story are almost as great as the story itself. Everyone wants me to make a second appointment and I’m sort of considering it to see how much further she’ll take this. She is such a great character for me to write about that I feel I need to pursue it more for my career.
I was out for dinner a few days later with my favorite new friends Julie and Andy. After I told them the story Julie asked me if my dad was a funny guy. Did he have a good sense of humor? I told her he was really funny. He made everyone laugh. She told me that maybe he was somehow sending me to these therapists “Oprah” and Dr. NOT Oprah to help me heal through laughter. It was such a great way to look at it and such a silver lining. I told her I couldn’t have said it better myself! 

DUMPED!!!

           We’ve all heard it before. Things like, “It’s not you, it’s me,” “I just don’t feel like we’re a good match,” “I just don’t think I can be what you need me to be,” and of course the best one of all, “I just can’t help you, or give you what you need.” Sound familiar to you? I thought so. Now let me ask you this. Ever heard those words from your SHRINK? Those were the words I heard as I sat across from my shrink a month ago with my mouth gaping open.

             I first started seeing “Oprah,”  as I liked to call her, last year just after my grandmother died. I knew I was going to need help coping after experiencing such a huge loss in my life, so I got the referral from my family doctor. Obviously, I am not someone who is afraid to admit it when I need help and with so much available today, I think there’s something wrong with people that sit around and let their issues fester. After one session with “Oprah” I thought she was “The One.” She really helped me through some difficult times. She had compassion when I talked about my grandmother, tears in her eyes when I described the vicious dog attack, and we laughed out loud together when I told her how the "LifeSucker" called me on set at work one morning (he of course doesn’t work) and screamed at me that I must be bipolar and psycho because I go to a therapist.

            So where did it all go wrong? Well, I was very nervous to tell “Oprah” that my dad died. I felt like every time I went to see her, some sort of disaster had struck me and I was nervous this one might throw her over the edge. I decided I better call and warn her what I was coming in with, so I left her a message telling her what had happened. Turns out, it was a good thing I had alerted her to my situation as it really shocked her and gave her time to put a few thoughts together for me. However, after one session, I realized our dynamics had drastically changed. Ironically, it happened to be around the same time that I found out that the real Oprah had announced her own show would be coming to an end. Go figure.

            For the next three or four sessions, I would come in and take my seat, say a few words and pray for the old responses I used to get from Oprah. Instead she would just sit and stare at me and nod her head. Now, believe me, I’ve become accustomed to people not knowing what to say to me, but like, isn’t she a trained PROFESSIONAL?  Couldn’t she have just referred back to an old textbook or something? Say a few nice things that would encourage me to get back on track? Finally, the day came where I had to seek other sources to make myself feel better (see my past blogs). I unfortunately made the mistake, when I was starved for conversation, of telling Oprah all the new things I was trying. Apparently you are not supposed to tell your shrink that you’re feeling better through spiritual and natural healing. That seemed to be the open window she was looking for to dump me. She made it seem like I didn’t need HER anymore. I was like really? You think so? I’m only going through the WORST time of my life to date, you think I no longer need to come here? Finally after all the hooing and hawing, I gave up. She clearly did not get A’s in grief counseling, and that’s what I needed. I decided to swallow my pride and march right back to my family doctor in search of another referral…..and boy did she send me to a character that I am convinced stepped right off of a Seinfeld show. Stay tuned for Part 2 of DUMPED, because you deserve to laugh, even if it's at my expense :)

Ajahn Brahmavamso Mahathera....Who???

            I was on the elliptical trainer at the gym last week listening to my ipod, when a cute trainer walked by and asked me what I was listening to.

“Um, oh, um, Drake,” I lied.

“Cool,” he said with a smile, walking away. Of course I had to lie to him. How could I admit that I wasn’t listening to some cool singer of the new millennium, but instead was listening to a podcast talk on Trauma and tragedy, by the Buddhist Monk, Ajahn Brahmavamso Mahathera. I’m not kidding when I tell you he is my new obsession.  I am learning so many helpful hints from his talks to get myself back on track, and his dry sense of humor is totally both appreciated and needed. Currently Brahm is the Abbot of Bodhinyana Monastery, in Serpentine, Western Australia, the Spiritual Director of the Buddhist Society of Western Australia, Spiritual Adviser to the Buddhist Society of Victoria, Spiritual Adviser to the Buddhist Society of South Australia, Spiritual Patron of the Buddhist Fellowship in Singapore, and Spiritual Patron of the Bodhikusuma Centre in Sydney. His simple and logical ways of looking at situations have really drawn me in. He covers so many topics in his different podcasts that no matter what you are coping with, you are sure to find something that you can relate to.

Some examples of his talks are: inspiration,

                                                  finding meaning in life

                                                  relationships

                                                  helping children overcome problems

                                                  self discipline

                                                 death

                                                dealing with pain

and so on, and so on………….

    

     Listening to his talks has been another stepping stone on my path to feeling like myself again.  So how did I find this guy, you may ask? I was tipped off by my acupuncturist, Lisa Quaning, who works out of The Russel Hill Chiropractic Clinic. Trust me, initially when she recommended that I listen to these talks by Ajahn Brahmavamso Mahathera, I made a face and laughed. However, while trying to find some balance and peace in my life, I tend to lean towards people that are doing well in achieving this themselves. I prefer to learn the tricks of content people, rather than having to take those painful phone calls from people who are so tangled up in their own web, that they need to lecture me about my life to make THEMSELVES feel better. 

     Now don’t get me wrong, just because I am loving the Budhist ways, I’m not going all Chrissy Snow-Rama Mageesh on you. Nor will  I be guzzling down a big glass of grape Kool-Aid anytime soon. However, I am learning to come to terms with things in life that can't be prevented, and trying to set myself on a better path of hope. If you are also looking to find an easier way, than at the very least give my boyfriend Ajahn Brahmavamso Mahathera a try. The budhists are definitely onto something, and if  you are willing to open yourself up to a little change than every little bit can help. 

Here is the link to  Ajahn Brahmavamso Mahathera site. You can also download his talks for free on itunes.