Though I had heard of him, I never saw any of the High School Musicals and a lot of other work he has done. I actually thought he was Nora Efron’s son.
A few years ago, I was having a meltdown, mostly due to birthing twins, and what the doctors don’t tell you. Post Partum doubles, possible bi-polar, a laundry list of brain dysfunction, not to mention the stress alone could take you out. If you are an artist, it triples. The twins were a surprise . . . like SURPRIZE! You are having twins!! LUCKY YOU!
I secretly didn’t even want another child, and honestly didn’t think I would get pregnant. When I heard this news, I took to the bed. I knew what was coming. I had an adolescent boy, a great boy, a child I decided to have on my own at a very young age. We are very much alike. Creative, logical, and believers in science. Okay. Scattershot. Upon hearing this amazing news I stayed in bed, well, for a while.
CUT TO: as these beautiful girls grew, my big life drastically changed because I could no longer do what I did, travel the world, work for big companies, meet incredible people, spend lots of time in Europe and make a lot of money.
Having twins = two bombs landing on your house = CHAOS.
I started a twins club in my village. There happen to be fifty or so sets. In a very short time, many of the mothers were off to Betty Ford, nut houses, shooting heroin in dark alleys.
They had big lives too. It’s quite difficult to go from negotiating a 40M film deal, or being a show runner on a hit show, or producing films, or running a successful financial concern, then find yourself peeling play dough off your expensive sofa that you dumped out of anger at the Good Will. “Take this piece of crap!”
But I digress: Back to Zac. (How did I miss this guy??)
After a few years, I couldn’t do it anymore, going from high stimulation to playing Apples to Apples. Mothers rarely tell the truth, but kids are boring and tedious. In fact, one day at Starbucks where many mothers go to spit venom onto the screenwriters, a girl in front of me said: “I hate my kids. Vampires! They ruined everything I was trying to do! But I love them. Thanks for being there.”
So I had a mini nervous breakdown. It may have been a major nervous breakdown, but I still don’t know what the clinical definition is beyond my inability to function except staring out the window and daydreaming about all the stories I wanted to write, having an entirely different life or driving my car off a cliff.
To break up the day, doing mind-numbing child chores, I would talk to myself and laugh hysterically when no one was there. It was not uncommon for people to come home and say “Who’s here?”
So, off I went to this hospital (another story because these people were seriously insane. I mean they were bleeding from their ears, and talked about how they burnt their houses down.)
I called home and ask to get the hell out of there, as it was voluntary. They had me on some scary medications that make you stupid and drool.
Once home, I crawled into bed and channel flipped. Then this movie 17 Again comes on. But every time I miss the first ten minutes. I think it’s a brilliant film. Of course I had heard of it (I work in the business) but why had I not been told it should have won an Academy Award? And who is this Zac Efron!
I simply could not stop watching the film. It watched it seventeen times.
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