'You Gotta Ask yourself, “Do I Feel Lucky?" Well, do ya, Punk?'

In honor of St. Patrick’s day, this week’s blog is dedicated to LUCK.

The Irish love Jameson
and paperwork.

A few fun facts:

1. I am OFFICIALLY an Irish citizen.  Luckily, my great grandmother made it to her homeland in time to have my Grandfather back in Limerick and luckily the Irish government started a citizenship program for descendents of Irish citizens born overseas and luckily the Irish Consulate put a rush order on my application so that I could get Irish before Luna’s birth, which means she is officially Irish too. 

2. The phrase “the luck o’ the Irish” is supposed to be ironic. Think about it: the Irish have been invaded by the Vikings, the Normans, and the Tudors, they get hit by the potato famine, then they finally get to America and are treated like dirt…  the Irish are infamously UNLUCKY. 

3. I almost led this blog off with a quote from Falcor the Luck Dragon but then I realized that Dirty Harry is Irish!  His name was Harry Callahan!  When I shared this revelatory information with Brett, our conversation went like this:

Tara: “Hey, Dirty Harry was Irish!”

Brett: “Of course he’s Irish.  He’s hot headed and violent, what did you think?” 

Don’t grab your bats just yet, Irish brethren.  Brett knocking the Irish (and the Italians) and me knocking the Armenians is like the sit-com runner in our house. I often ask where he lost his goats when he migrated from Glendale and whenever I see a Kardashian on TV, I exalt to him, “Honey, your people!”

Okay, so now back to the luck. 

Today I lost my cell phone.  Or it was stolen.  Or both.  I left it on a counter at a coffee shop and some lucky guy found it, pocketed it. Buh bye, iPhone 4. Rest in some dude’s pocket.

So that was bad luck. 

R.I.P., my beloved.

So after my (what turned out to be quite expensive) morning meeting, I drove home angry.  Like a bat out of hell.  And yet, I made it home in one piece. 

So that was good luck.

In an attempt to unwind, I went for the wine and realized that we are out of wine.  Out of wine!  That has never happened in this house! 

So that was unlucky. 

But then I found some Grey Goose in the freezer. 

So that was lucky.

...The truth is, I don’t believe in luck.  Luck is for wusses.

At one point early in my career, I was at a networking event where I screened my short film SMACKERS and expressed frustration with how hard the journey was.  A bushy tailed young actress promised me that all I needed was a little luck and that it was sure to find me soon.  I told her that I’d been busting my hump for years and that when I finally “made it,” it would have absolutely nothing to do with luck.

So here I am ten years down the road of this journey.  And on this week…

I am waiting to hear back from one cable network about a feature writing gig.   I am waiting to hear back from a second cable network that may or may not purchase a script I wrote years ago.  I am waiting to hear back from our domestic sales agent on The Lake Effect to see who will be premiering the movie this year.  I am also hustling my butt through two feature scripts and a pilot that I really believe in.  Something has got to hit. If I throw this many things at the wall something is bound to hit.   Right? 

Maybe I just need a little… LUCK.

Erin go bragh, y’all!