On my first professional set we were hired by a lyricist T- Double and his benefactor Bill Johnson who was the ghost Executive Producer of , “The Grey”, starring Liam Neeson. We felt it good to take the work even though T Double was rotten to the core. The job had exposed me to a network with a Director of Picture from that year’s Oscar winning, “Hustle and Flow”, Ryan Bohner who would be a great crew leader and assistant director on our work with Japanese artist Ai really matched my work ethic. We felt like we had been forming a good crew. After having met this random group of talents and filmed my first music video we responsibly brought the rap artist back to his Sober Living Drug and Alcohol Treatment home in Hollywood.

It seems that we could get a good ship running when truly just as I was leaving, we were surrounded suddenly by what seemed to be a whole elementary school of young souls. These souls were addressing me as if I was the head mistress. Miss Lugo , Miss Lugo and they had been grabbing at our arms. Just as we were speaking to the house psychiatrist, well how were we going to explain this? “Umm what was this house used for before you all moved in? Was it a pre school?”

We had studied the wall to wall French doors of every room and partition when we planted our selves at the dining table. Had a good chat with the house psychiatrist on what my producer friend needed to rally work. Got up to contemplate the spiritual energies coming at us and held onto the wood carved mantel first facing it with both hands. Then we let them move me, we had to ask. So we turned me and faced the room asking , “ What does this mean to you?”

We had let the kids wave my harms, starting up like the (Y) form made with my body and let them then bring my arms in crossing my face with my palms and wrist facing outward. We let them wave me about like this a few times and again asked, “what does this mean?” to the psychiatrist and the producer in front of me who said nothing.

They looked at me with the sudden want to disconnect from our conversations. When then they became dismissive. We pled, “ Please come to my home for dinner? you both can sleep over and I’ll bring you back in the morning.” Again I was dismissed however the psychiatrist/ drug counselor did mention she must serve therapy to the house mates that are patients, it was her job. Then we let me blurt it out, “ I can’t leave you two here, I can’t trust any of these windows to keep you safe.”

Jonathan the producer and Tara his drug counselor again dismisses me. “Please ,” we tried again having said , “both of you can’t stay here..” Yet the two chose to stay and we knew better to get out now. I exchanged numbers with the house drug counselor Tara before leaving. Pretty sure she wrote us off as a head-case to study.

We had lived at the beach and went back to my sublet loft. As we parked we got the call.

“Jasmine Lugo you have something! “, thinking and not understanding while apologizing for being weird.

“Jasmine, you don’t understand 15 minutes ago. You left here how long ago?” After a time measure from Hollywood to Santa Monica in traffic it was about 45 minutes.

Then we didn’t expect her to invite me on a road trip but she did. So my human took over, my mother did not like most of the times we connected her she really didn’t like it. It gave her anxiety and freak outs. “No , Jasmine you have something.” So them we admitted , “I know…”, after we heard that it was still surprising, “no , Jasmine you have something and it is very strong. We can’t stay here tonight. The windows have been broken.”

So she proceeded to tell that a individual (an addict) who had been there under treatment relapsed after having moved out and gotten straight. That this individual had gotten high on some substances they could not yet identify. That she demanded to get inside, being obviously high she was refused entry that was the policy. This individual a female had relapsed , was denied entry and broke through the window. Then cutting both her fore arms she began waving her injuries at them and throwing her blood on the in-patients, who removed her numerous times only to be threatened by her dna spewing from her. As she repeatedly broke back through the French doors and broken glass back in again throwing her blood on them by waving her arms by forming a (Y) with her body and waving her wrists and palms up and outward. The in- patients scattered away in fear.

Just a little piece of my journey.

Here is to the best of us.

Medium JJ.