Dear Ombudsman


Psych! Just kidding! I DID get the commercial!

My agent told me I would find out if I was the chosen one yesterday so when yesterday night rolled around and I knew my agent had left for the day I kicked proverbial cans for the rest of the night. I was not pretty. Promise.

Then I wake up today, go out to lunch with Jersey and my lovely mama-in-law to be and POOF! The agent calls, I've got the job and the details for the shoot!


I called J and we celebrated in the most mild-mannered way. lol...that's what you do once you've been put through the wringer of all wringers!

Future actors of America...THIS is the glory you can look forward to. Prepare your nerves!

And Then He Taketh Away

Yesterday was grey and inner funk was working some serious projections on the drizzle-tastic world I was moping around in. You see, that beautiful first commercial booking that I was oh-so-happy to land was a figment of my sad little imagination.

Apparently my agent forgot to mention one tiny detail...that I was not in fact booked but rather marked as "available" meaning I was someone's stand in if they didn't want to do that is not as promising. I sat at home the night I found out and cried and cried and cried. Who gets a job and then doesn't get the job?! Who does that happen to!? Honestly!

So back to that cold and drizzly yesterday...

I had to walk out in the drizzle and grab the mail. One stupid letter in that whole big stinkin letter from my Alma cruel question stamped on the front... "Where has KU Taken you?"

I have never hated junk mail so much.

Wellllp, dearest KU, I haven't gone far. I've managed to pursue my interest for seven + years only to land up on my living room couch sobbing on a damn pillow. No first acting breakthrough moment where I find that perseverance and letting go means something.  I'm right back where I was...

Jersey did a bang up job of cheering me up the night I found out. We got Chipotle...I drowned my sorrows in a barbacoa burrito and woke up over the whole crying bit. Now I'm just confused, numb and snarky to boot. Rejection sucks, but rejection KILLS when it starts out as a success and then pulls a fast one on ya.

Letting Go, Accepting Flow

Hippity Dippity, I am.

(said Yoda)

Something happened to me the week I wrote the post "Broken." I just threw my hands up in the air and let go. I found clarity in giving up. I know what I I just have to give it up and hope for the best...let the Universe work its magic. Being the control freak that I am; this has been hard.

It's a lot easier on my stress levels, though! I have no control and so it's easier to get through the days. The auditions are starting to come in more regularly. It's commercial season.

I'm trying to soak this all in..and I'm wishing, hoping, praying that this is just the beginning.

When You're Relevent


I just received an honest, yet bitterly tragic response about the book I'm trying to publish. I submitted the work to an agent and while he dug my writing style he basically admitted that no one will buy into this memoir of a tale unless I'm someone and obviously I'm not right now.

How humbling to hear...when you make it then we'll listen. When you make it then we'll read. When you make it then we'll pay attention. And folks wonder why actors are closed off and "snooty" to strangers. After years of being ignored because you're not getting 500,000 hits on your blog a day or working on a Spielberg set I'd give the world a long skinny middle finger salute, too!

The book is being put to rest. Maybe some day it'll be my turn to make it and I'll feel like taking someone up on their offer, but I doubt it. There's just something whack about accepting conditional attention, don't you think? I'm much too bitter of a woman to throw caution to the wind and pimp.

Sad, I've been wanting to write a book since I was in high school. J and I said we'd co-write a book called Kiwi Power.  I always kept that book idea in the back of my mind. Years before blogging and memoirs from nobody's were around...I guess sometimes you have to let the dream go.


Instagram | On the Interwebs

I'm late to the game. Have you all noticed that Instagram is on the net now? Groovy, ain't it? I could watch it flip pictures ALL.DAY.LONG.

I'm obsessed with this silly sight...although I am trying to quit it, Brokeback Mountain-style. Just read an article in Newsweek concerning social media and what it's doing to friendships around the world. (It ain't making 'em better folks.) So while I love all the pretty new bells and whistles I'm also slowly tiptoeing backwards away from the traps and internet trolls. 

Funny what some good old-fashioned meditation and perspective will do...

It's Time!!!


Jersey and I spent yesterday in total Christmas mode. We went tree picking, trimmed the tree, hung the stockings and jammed to Christmas tunes like rock stars. 

All in all, I'd say it was a pretty perfect day. We had our first Thanksgiving at home (we always travel to either Middle Earth or the East Coast to be with our fam bams) and now we'll have our first Christmas as well. We're starting those traditions and making them count.

Well Versed in Humility

This morning I sat down at my computer and began to work...just like every other day.
Made my smoothie, threw my hair up in a bun, wiped the sleepy from my eyes and exhaled out the morning funk.

I mentioned in my last post that I had hit a bottom. Not sure if it was rock bottom, but it was pretty damn close. I'm an extreme dreamer. At four I had so much conviction that my life would be in film. I felt it in my bones. Then last week happened and for the first time in my life I wondered if the younger starry-eyed me had landed in some cruel joke of a reality--a reality that had nothing at all to do with film and I bawled. Ooooh, I cried and cried and I moped and stopped believing in miracles and fortunate circumstances.

Lucky for me J is a serious hippity dippity spiritual junkie. She talked, listened and advised me to keep on reading emails like The Daily Love and watching vlogs like GabbyTV. I also kept up the meditation challenge that she suggested. Each evening I'd sit and meditate and try to find answers to all the pain and confusion.

The outcome: I let it all go. I let the counting signs go...the superstitions...the mind bullying  all of it. I decided that none of that matters...I have no wonky weird control over when I'll make it. The universe is gonna do what it wants to do and I HAVE to start accepting its schedule instead of my own. Hard, but giving it all up and admitting that I've done enough and now it's just time to live life and see what happens was the final outcome.

...So I exhaled the morning funk out and my phone rang. I couldn't pick up because I was on a call, but the minute it went to voice mail I muted my phone and listened to the message. My agent was calling to tell me I had booked my very first commercial job. SEVEN YEARS...I put down the phone and immediately began to bawl. It's such a weird feeling...the idea of releasing control and being okay with  a "Que Sera" mentality is HAWD...but I'll be darned if the Universe wasn't giving me a little smart ass hint that I was FINALLY getting what I'm supposed to do.

I'm humbled and confused and happy and crack-headish. I'm thankful that this time I was able to see a beautiful light come out of all that darkness. I know firsthand just how abnormal and random that is (seven years, y'all!)

I am thankful. I am learning. I am an actress.


My faith in me and my life broke last week. 

As soon as it happened I knew it wasn't a fleeting mood. I knew the light that has always pushed me forward...the one that has always allowed me to believe I had something big to do in this world went out. I haven't cried this much in a long time. 

I've spent this weekend breaking down how this all came about. A huge part of it was the epic acting breakdowns that happened over last week's hellacious days. I got three auditions that were all terribly wrong for me. I was a seat filler...there to make the casting directors feel like they got their quota but I knew and they knew I was nowhere near what they needed: wasted gas, wasted time and wasted energy...

I get that commercial work is all about silly details I can't change. I'm not White or Asian. I'm too tall...these are things that I get and don't affect my heart. I don't cry over not being this or that. I am what I am. I do get upset, though when I see that the right parts never come. I'm not even put in those rooms. It's as if they don't exist and it's that realization that I start to cry. 

The actual business of acting hasn't broken's that I haven't even been given a chance that has broken my spirit. My whole life has been about this dream. I knew at a very young age that I had a gift and that some day I'd be great at it...I'd be successful at it. Instead I'm sitting on my couch, watching Super Soul Sunday and shaking my head that nothing they say makes any sense to me. I have $4 to my name and a quiet home. (not a good cocktail)

I was meditating but that stuff only works for people who get what they want. It only works for the successful. If you keep trying and trying at something and never see positive stuff happening then you're insane to keep going. Isn't that what Einstein said? I'm surrounded by success. I see my friends and family experiencing it all the time. Maybe they want to be the best mother they can they are. They want to be a doctor so they find the job. They want to be the best trainer they can be so someone comes knocking on their door asking if they want to start a boot camp company. I mean the magic is ALL AROUND me and I take it that it's God's way of saying you're not meant for this. This success thing isn't for you. You don't get to have what you want.

When I see someone's light (aka potential) I help them. I help them get what they want and it's awesome for them, but I'm growing bitter because no one sees mine. Maybe it's because I surround myself around the successful who don't need help (famous quote: when we need help, we should help) I'm not sure, but my spirit is dim. My faith in persistence has crashed and burned and I'm deaf to the Positive Pollyanna that usually keeps me going. 

I don't want to write for awhile. I don't want to do much of anything except figure out how to get out of this intact so yeah, if you (my three readers) don't hear from me it's just because I've lost that 'thing' that has always made writing possible...

My dreams, faith, happiness and optimism are on hiatus. There isn't a lick of luv or kiwi power in this girl. 

Tie The Knot


If Jersey and I can make the wedding groovy and cool we will. He's really into bow ties lately (Can you say soul mate?!) so he's decided he wants to rock one for the big day and would like for other blokes who come to rock them as well. 

Fast forward to a month or so after he made this fashion choice. I randomly stumbled upon Jesse Tyler Ferguson's labor of love, Tie The Knot. Proceeds go to equality, which works for us. 

Love begets love, yo. 

Sprinkles ATM

I finally became a true LA girl. Dara has been wanting to hit up the Sprinkles ATM for months and we finally got our ish together and made the trek down to Beverly Hills. 

It's cool...but I almost slapped a chick for getting 12 darn cupcakes out of it. You have to do one cupcake at a time and it takes FOR.EV.VER. You go to the cupcake ATM for your sweet fix...not for your company's snack day.

I got strawberry for me and pumpkin for Jersey. Dara went with the chocolate coconut. Good choices all around. 

Irene Diaz | A Songstress After My Heart

To help fund her EP click {here}

I am in love with this woman's voice.  It's been a long time since an artist has moved me. Amy Whinehouse, Selah Sue...and now Irene Diaz.

Revolutionary Petunia, Crushed

I call it Revolutionary Petunia, Crushed.

I love to finger paint. Jersey will walk into the room and I'll be sitting there with my Crayola Crayon finger paints going to town. I'm trying my hardest to make my house a home. (Queue Luther Vandross!)  I need color and walls with ish on them. I need stories to drip off the ceilings, walls and book shelves. 

This is my start. 

Acting | Ask and You Shall Sort of Get


This is me. This is me stressed out of my frickin mind. This is my second audition for the day. I woke up wee early, went into my full-time job's office building to have a meeting with my boss and found out I had not one, but TWO auditions and I needed to leave three minutes ago. I handled my business and got to both auditions. 

Yeah, I may have missed the memos for dress code. I didn't have a "cop" outfit and I wasn't casual/conservative enough for the other, but I made it, damn it...And it was stressful, and tiring and hella heartbreaking. 

Yes, I want to act more than anything, but this period of the dream...zooming and zigzagging through the streets of LA, running to this dead end to that, sitting beside creepy smart kids and women who are allergic to food and happiness...well it's a hot mess. It makes ME a hot mess. 

I recently started doing meditations with Jersey before bed. (J hipped me to a really great challenge.) The night before the day of auditions we focused on this centering thought, "Today, I embrace my potential to be, do, and have whatever I can dream."

This meditation thing is powerful! Don't you think? So now I have to figure out how to be grateful for the crazy...while at the same time better defining what exactly it is I was wishing for. I'm allowed to focus and edit my dream! I'm ready for film work and parts that make my heart soar. I'm ready for the excitement and the fun. I'm also ready for a nap. 

After my agent chewed me a new one the other night I wrote my mentor. As always she was able to talk me off the proverbial ledge. I'm sharing her words because I think anyone could relate to what she's saying. All of my hurt melted after reading her words. This is hard and I believe with all my heart I wouldn't have made it in LA without people like my mentor...that doesn't make me any less worthy of my dream. It doesn't mean I should quit. Just means I'm a stubborn arse; strong-willed woman. And maybe a bit crazy with a side of sensitive.

Dearest Tish,

I am so sorry you are feeling sad.  But please be gentle with yourself.  I know it sounds trite but things truly do happen for a reason.

Remember when you were little, and you wanted to play with someone but they didn't want to play with you?  You were too young, or they were doing something else, or whatever.  
It made you feel bad until a baby squirrel or a puppy or some other wonder said, Hi.  And now we don't even remember that person's name.  This too will pass.  You will be successful but in your own time.  
There is no right or wrong way to get to a destination as long as you are traveling toward it.

Remember the times when we have finished a scene and we feel like shit.  Sometimes its simply because we were performing a piece in which our character felt shitty.
So please ask yourself, "Whose thoughts are these?"  I just got home from an amazing meditation, which i do with a group but I felt bad when only seconds before I was in bliss.
When i asked myself whose thoughts are these, my soul answered the facilitator of the class.  She was feeling like she wasn't appreciated.  Your agent is feeling like she is not appreciated and so you feel like a fuck up because she doesn't feel appreciated.

You were simply taking care of you in that moment.  LA can't handle the truth.  If you told her you were bleeding like a castrated bull ,or you had just experienced a rape she would have been happy to cover for you with the casting director:)
What she needs to know is that you feel like an actor more than anything else in your life.  She'll get over it.  Make her cookies or something:)  Also would she have scheduled the audition later so you could have left work early thus honoring both? 
It was another possibility or would she still have needed power and said the same thing.  Who knows.

You were honest, Tish and that will be rewarded.  Maybe not right now but in your soul it will grow and nurture everything you do in the future.  You are an actor, a very good actor.
You are unique in a town that can't tell a woman unless she showing cleavage.  Unfortunately that is, what it is, but do you give up or do you show them something they have never seen before.  You are unique Tish, you will never be a sassy sistah or a ditzy blond or a stiletto wearing femme fatal you are an Ann Hathaway or a Sandra Bullock or TISH MERRITT!

There are solar flares and Mercury retrograde and a Solar eclipse tomorrow and the planet is trying to give birth to herself right now so progress is not very likely for anyone.  The best thing to do is read a good book, make love and visualize how you see your life playing out.  And please don't be a tight wad with your dreams.  Dream bigger! Whatever you create is what it will be.

I know you hurt and are looking at all the things you did wrong today, but please look at all the things you did right for your soul.

I am up right now if you wish to talk.

With love and respect and so much faith in you,


When It's Hard

When the dream is hard, it's HARD. Forget about the no's and the judgmental looks...the sideways stares and the sleazy casting directors...When your agent calls you up and chews you a new one for not being able to make an audition you just want to curl up in a ball and die the big die.

Here's the deal. I want to act more than anything else in the world so when someone scolds me like a punk for having to say no to an audition (that I would never say no to unless I had a really damn good reason for turning down) I just want to pop them in the throat.

It's been a hard couple of months. I've had two auditions. That's it. No callbacks. No bookings. I've been out here for seven years and I can't remember the last year I worked. I feel like a joke. I see people accomplishing their goals and getting the dreams they want all the time. I don't know if I'm supposed to take this as a hint to give up.

When does a smart girl throw in the towel? I wrote my acting coach/mentor and asked that. I'm losing that spark that's necessary out here...hitting that moment when a super duper dreamer starts to see things more clearly. Shocks of reality suck balls.

Private Eyes

I went to Trader Joe's the other day and moved through the store like a floating ghost...Usually I get super duper hung up on being "seen"...observed and acknowledged, but for once I was content in my anonymity. I just wanted my blueberries and pomegranate seeds.

When I got back into my car the song, "Private Eyes" (a cover by the Bird and the Bee) was playing and I snort giggled.

I love ironic moments.

Even more funny: I spent the rest of the weekend standing out like a sore thumb. I got a facial peel that jacked up my face. Kids, always remember to ask your dermatologist if the creams she or he prescribes have side effects. I've been told I won't scar, but I'm feeling some serious Samantha from Sex and the City chemical peel vibes. Vitamin E, aloe vera and some humble frickin pie.

The Hipster Version of a Quilting Bee

Last night I did something I NEVER do. I went to an event alone...without Jersey or friend...and sat at a table with complete strangers AND actually spoke to them even though I felt like the lone, weird chocolate chip in a very girly, blog-licious ocean of JCrew bling milk.

I stalk (a tiny bit) this quirky blogger, Bri from DesignLoveFest. I dig her fashion sensibilities, her gangster-like approach to design. She's a cool hunter...a taste get the drift. Well, Miss Bri held a little DIY party last night at the Anthropologie store in Santa Monica. I reserved a spot for me and a bud, but I couldn't get a soul to go with so I went alone.

I know it may seem like I'm a social pimp, but I hate being alone in large crowds. Freaks me the heck out so I was pretty impressed with myself. (In all honesty, I just really needed to get out of my rut of a routine and do something fun and creative.) So I went and had a blast making Christmas ornaments out of yarn. Think I may have found my domestic calling. If you need yarn balls, I'm your gal.

Best frickin frack donuts

Finished masterpieces. Bri + Me

My favorite yarn ball...looks a bit like something out of a Dr Seuss book, no?

Luv & Kiwi is Going Boom


Jersey said the words every girl in love wants to hear, "My family is coming to visit. Let's get on that decorating thing."

Oh how I love that man. He's killed most of my decorating endeavors since we've moved into this place. There's always something else that takes precedence but now we've got good reason to spruce. 

I'm not expecting HGTV magic, but I am excited to think maybe, just maybe I could finally finish the living room. . I've always believed your home pieces should tell stories so I'm comfortable with building a home piece by piece. 

I fell in love with Dooce's "Boom Boom Room" as I like to call it. Each piece dazzled my curiosities  I want my home to be an aesthetically eyegasmic novel of ooohs and ahhhs. Putting on my pizazz hat and getting ready to produce a miracle: I want to find affordable, plentiful pieces! Fingers and toes crossed...

There's something sweet about a wreath named "cottage berry"
The Westport dresser
Fake fun

Mercury Retrograde


No wonder I can't have a sound discussion lately to save my soul! We're in the swing of Mercury Retrograde, better known as "Coo Coo time."

I totally believe in this hippity dippity stuff, too. We're just a little too connected to the Earth...a little too sensitive to changes in the moon...a little too eager to flip a switch and act cray when Mama Nature shifts in her seat.

So far (knock on wood) I haven't seen too much of the wonky, but yesterday morning before I voted, I did just about chew Jersey's head off for something he mumbled under his breath. I went a tad ballistic...I'll admit to that.

I won't go blaming every poor choice I make on the stars and moon, but I will acknowledge that wonky randomness is never truly random.

Beware the ides of me!


All of the disappointment on facebook led me back to a book (The Poisonwood Bible) I read many, many years ago. There was this one passage that stuck:

Winning an election—that was Belgium’s idea of fair play, but to people here it was peculiar. To the Congolese (including Anatole himself, he confessed) it seems odd that if one man gets fifty votes and the other gets forty-nine, the first wins altogether and the second one plumb loses. That means almost half the people will be unhappy, and according to Anatole, in a village that’s left halfway unhappy you haven’t heard the end of it. There is sure to be trouble somewhere down the line. (Kingsolver, 1998, p. 265)

So even though I'm personally happy with the outcome (better healthcare for all, marriage equality for the LGBT community and women's reproductive rights) I'm sad for my Republican friends who feel defeated...those who believed just as hard in Romney as I believed in Obama. I was there back when Bush was elected a second term; I feel your WEEE! Do I feel your pain!

All I can say is we will all win if we choose to move forward, without blinders. If we all challenge our leaders to continue to keep our interests in mind we can't go wrong...That being said if half of us throw our hands in the air and wish ill will upon our country then we're screwed.

Blue, red, whatever...there will be purple bleeding in the streets.


If the video doesn't pop up you can see it {here}

I love being exposed to new. New reads, new programs, new shows, new fashion and definitely new music. That being said I thought I knew all types of music genres. Apparently I'm still a grasshoppa because I had no idea there was something awesome out there in the world called 'turntableism'.

I recently wrote about our experience at the Grandstar in Chinatown. I didn't really get into the music that much, but it was hip hop on one floor and this groovy stuff on the top one. Fascinating stuff! For me, it sounds like Sun Ra got together with hip hop and made a baby. It's super cool, spontaneous, improvisational sounds that make you wanna say "uuuuu na na na na!" 

Just kidding. I'm not comparing this to Master P. Promise.

It really was nice to hear. Sometimes one of the turntableists would get a bit too wonky for my tastes (when I couldn't hear the rhyme or reason behind his beats and flow) but overall it was a pretty exciting sound to behold. 

Gotta love new.

Boo | Getting Back to Kidult Basics

I didn't dress up on Halloween this year, but I did get my face painted at a pre-Halloween party days before.  If you squint your eyes I look like a real skeleton gangsta. 

Jersey and I have decided we suck at being cool and therefore will definitely dress up next year. In fact we already have our totally clever and cool costumes chosen. 

I've been much too adult lately...need more kidult in my life so planning dress ups is just what the sanity ordered. My brain refuses to think...I'll let you know once some other ideas pop up.

Blog Milk Design

Luv and Kiwi has gone through the change. (If you read these posts via email subscription you should click on the blog.)

I've pulled an LA and gone and got myself a blog face lift. I've been craving simple lately. I wanted my blog simple...cleaned out my closet and made that mess of a wardrobe simpler...I've just had this urgent need to purge...more LAisms. (Such a horrible joker I am.)

Design isn't really my thing, though so I reached out to Ana from Blog Milk Design. I had seen her work, fallen in love and made a vow to myself to stalk the gal until she agreed to help me. Lucky for me, stalking wasn't necessary.

I have to give Ana props because I was a bugaboo and then some...constant emails asking for tweaks. She didn't kill me, though! I'm still alive and still loving what she cooked up.


Have I mentioned that I've been plagued with acid reflux? It's jacked up my health, my fitness routine, my diet. It's a big pain in me arse. It's made it next to impossible to be a vibrant thing. I'm lazy, fatigued and utterly pooped 24/7.

I put all of that aside on Saturday night, though. Jersey's buddy was turning 30 so we headed out to this really low key, chill spot called the Grandstar Jazz Club to celebrate. 

I was yawning before we even walked in, but I was still happy I went. Chinatown is beauty on a magic stick made from the horn of a unicorn. 

She Has a Thing for Tebow

Dolly came over and watched Hocus Pocus on Halloween night. She wasn't a fan of Bette Midler as Winifred, but she did enjoy snuggling up beside me with Jersey's nasty Jets blanket...that was given to him as a joke. We're Giants fans in this household!


I have two dudes on my side of the wedding party (AKA P-Unit.)

D is half of my men of honor crew. His task: to look G. They won't have to hold shat, partake in girly shenanigans...nada!

I chose these two because they're both responsible for encouraging my tomboy sensibilities over the years and they deserve to be honored for that ish. 

That is all.

She's Dating


My Godchild has a boyfriend! The girl who I witnessed coming into this world...the first little one I ever held straight from the hoo hoo is now making googly eyes at a boy who very much resembles a tiny Bieber. My heart hurts!!!

 I texted her to figure out what "taken " meant on her Instagram status. It took everything for me not to scream/cry for her never to trust those vial things called boys. I'm supposed to be cool, calm and collected with her. She's supposed to come to me when she has questions about life. If I spaz over the Bieber I'm gonna lose her so I'm trying to pull an Andre 3000 and be cool.


Her mother and I are in new waters. We need your help! She's not supposed to date until she's 16 so she's "going out" with Bieber boy...meaning they make googly at the skating rink and school.

What do mothers and Godmamas doooooo?! How did my mom handle this ish?!


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