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The New York Times is Reading My Mind

Several times in the last few years, I've had the uncanny experience of writing something on my blog, then finding my thoughts echoed in the New York Times, or vice versa.  It's starting to feel a little eerie.

Exhibit A:

A couple years ago, I wrote a post about acclimating to Los Angeles -- about what the first few years in the city are like, and about the moment when you finally reach saturation point, and find leaving as difficult as staying.

Right now, I'm in New York City... and today is the exact day on which I achieved a natural-sounding Queens accent without trying. (In fact, I am trying to shake it off so people don't think I'm a poseur.)

What else happened today?  The New York Times published a piece about new residents in their 20s acclimating to New York, and the moments at which they realize they have become New Yorkers.

Exhibit B:

In 2004, The Times published an article on how to pronounce Italian food. Four months earlier, I published a post on the same subject, covering a few of the same pronunciations.

Exhibit C:

Recently, I posted about trying to live more actively so I don't resemble a futuristic fatty from Wall-E... a film the Times also cited in their Sunday article about our obese nation.

# # #

What I can't figure out is if this is reflective of a hive mind -- everybody reading and thinking about the same things, the same trends -- or if it means I have good journalistic instincts, and should be writing for the New York Times. Maybe a little of each? I guess if they publish something soon about people standing too close to the paintings at the Met, I will know for sure that something is up.

Patron Saint of Clowns & Barristers

So we're in New York, and I'm loving it. Keisuke wants to work while we're here, so he called his agent in L.A. and asked her to keep him in mind for New York roles. Turns out a certain enormously successful show runner has a new series in development, and the show requires an Asian male in his 40s as a series regular. The show also shoots in New York.

I want him to get this role.  In part because I want to live in New York, and in part because the showrunner is also responsible for the existence of a favorite TV show of mine which happens to shoot in Hawaii. And as I've said before, I wouldn't mind living there either.

I'm reading Brideshead Revisited right now, which is about a Catholic family. In one passage of the book, a non-religious character teases a religious one about praying to saints for specific things. (Something we were never really taught to do in CCD; therefore, I've never done it.)

"A-ha!", I tell myself. "I'll pray to a saint that Keisuke gets the role."  Because that's what religion is for, right? Asking for things you want, just in case there is somebody out there with a magic wand and nothing better to do than say "Yeah, okay. It is done."

So on a lark, I plug "patron saint of actors" into Google and I discover St. Genesius. Patron saint of "actors, comedians, clowns, dancers, theatrical performers, musicians, attorneys, barristers, lawyers, printers and stenographers."

Can you believe it? There really is a saint for everything. I'm going to look up "patron saint of easily-distracted-writers-who-might-want-to-become-librarians" next.

I'm not an active Catholic these days, but I'll be praying to this saint every night before bed, because that's how badly I want to live in the world capital of knockoff designer handbags.

If you have a direct pipeline to this guy, I'd appreciate your prayers as well. Thanks.

Getting Physical

I can pinpoint the exact moment when I first started thinking about the importance of physical/mental balance in life. I was on a vacation to Seattle in August of 1999, with a friend from college. She had recently left her high-pressure consulting job to move to Vermont and focus on supporting small, sustainable businesses. I had just left my medium-pressure producing job to focus on writing.  Both of us were broke and freewheeling, and we decided now was a good a time as any to see the Pacific Northwest.

At the moment in question, we were car-camping at Deer Park campground on the Olympic Peninsula west of Seattle. Our campsite was at around 8,000 feet, with clumps of snow scattered about.  I was short of breath from the altitude, and a little freaked out by the drive in and the warnings of what to do in case of a mountain lion attack. Everything I was seeing and doing was unfamiliar to a sheltered girl from the flat suburban lands of central Connecticut.

We were sitting on a knobby promontory, looking at huge blue mountains splayed out in front of us when I had a thought: there are people in life who see that mountain and need to climb it. And there are people in life who see that mountain and are content to look at it from over here.

Exsqueeze Me While I Bore You a Bit

I'm about to publish a professional, work-related post to this space, for lack of anywhere else to put it. I've been too busy lately to build a work-only blog or newsletter to house this stuff.  Please forgive me for violating an unwritten but cardinal sin of personal blogging: talking about boring old work. A thousand pardons!

Pizzelles 4-Ever

Just when you're feeling down, you get a little pick-me-up. Pizzelle.net links to my Italian Pronunciation Guide for Those with Non-Mediterranean Heredity.  This makes me happy, because I'm an avid pizzelle maker and eater. For all I know, I'm the only person in Los Angeles who makes and distributes pizzelles to her friends and clients at Christmas. Long live tradition!

Whoa.

When I was 23 and 24, I had some bosses, co-workers and mentors in their mid-to-late 30s. I thought they were so... mature. My first boss was about 40 when I was 23. I thought that was rather old and authoritarian. (No offense.)

Now I'm 34, shacked up with a 40 year-old.  I blinked and somebody moved me like a chess piece. Suddenly I'm on the other side of the fold -- with all the "old" people. And I see that most of the ones that I know, like me, behave 10 to 15 years younger than their chronological ages.  As compared to our parents' generation, anyway.

This must be one of the cosmic jokes behind aging. None of us looks the way we feel.

At what age do you start feeling your age -- recognizing the body (and the life) you live in?

How Do You Say Horror?

The way people pronounce things is a fascination of mine. We're planning out our film shoot, day one of which is this Saturday. Along the way, the word "horror" has come up a lot.

Keisuke says "harr-ar".  I say "whore-er".

This may be one of those definitive pronunciation differences that marks a New Yorker vs. a New Englander. The funny thing is, I think we both say "whore-ible". 

How do you say it?

What Comes Next

Late last night we got back from a long weekend in San Francisco. We went because my college had a "35 Years of Co-Education" event, in honor of which a group of alumnae had organized a day-long series of panels on business, education, politics, entertainment, medicine, the arts, and so on.  It was cool and inspiring, I met a few people and reconnected with a few others, and I got a cool baseball cap with a pink "D" on it.

The most encouraging part of the day for me was the "The Road Less Traveled" panel, which was overpacked with bodies.  Apparently there are many smart and accomplished women, ranging in ages from 25 to 55, who are still zig-zagging down their life paths, trying to find a fit that's right for them. One of the major themes that emerged from the talk was the idea that people get restless when they possess an intellectual or leadership gift that is not being used in their work. This is when it's time to create your own path, one that synthesizes all your competencies into one package.

Food for thought.

The other lesson I learned, from the panel on "Women in Entertainment":

If you're in the arts (writing, acting, singing, dancing, etc.) and you don't feel like you have no other choice, then don't do it. It's too hard to make a living.

I've heard this advice many times, but I always ignored it because it was thorny, and listening to it would require me to make a major decision I wasn't ready to make. Namely, whether or not to step away from creative writing and step toward something else.

Now that I'm older, I think it's time to listen to that advice.

I've been dragging my feet on screenwriting for years, never quite sure it was right for me.  On Friday night over dinner, someone asked me, "If you got a million dollars tomorrow, would you still write screenplays?"

Let's put aside the fact that a million dollars isn't enough to retire on.  Minor technicality.  But he was asking me the "Office Space" question, and my answer was "No."

If I had tons of money, why would I waste my time sitting inside, writing a screenplay, when I could be out there in the world, enjoying what there is of it before we destroy it completely? 

So though I'm still fine-tuning my concept of what's next, I know what's not next. All the same old things I've been avoiding doing for the last 8 years: shmoozing, handing out copies of scripts, writing more scripts, taking low-paid entertainment jobs. At the end of the day, the potential upside isn't enough for me. And the journey is not at all fun... it's just a drag that keeps me indoors when I should be outside, playing in the sun.

I'm not saying I'll never write another script or finish the things I'm sitting on. I'm just saying, I'm not out to become a career screenwriter, or even a career novelist. I'm out to become a Synthesized, Happy Human who's using all her skills to make some kind of impact on people or the environment. Part of that is going to involve more exercise and outdoor activities; part, more travel; part, writing; and part, additional education. I'm still putting together the plan.

Though I've been writing poems, fiction and journals since I was 8, and probably still will, it's never been my compulsion to become an Oscar winner. That's somebody else's dream, some family members' ideas of where I should take my skills and self-motivation and how I should parlay them into dollar signs. Not mine.

So, adios, albatross. You have been released. It's time for me to zig-zag on to the next thing.

7 Smells That Should be Candles

1. Campfire
2. Wood-burning stove
3. Buttered movie theater popcorn
4. Dusty hiking trail
5. Salty beach hair
6. Old-school Coppertone
7. Freshly mown grass

Shepherd vs. Whippet

If every human has a dog counterpart, then I think I'm an Australian Shepherd. I base this on someone telling me yesterday that Aussies need a lot of exercise, or else they have a tendency to become obese.

I need a lot of exercise, and sitting at this computer doing internet work, then trying to write, isn't really cutting it. My eating habits are rather good -- very low sugar, high fiber, almost no fat, skim milk, I hardly ever eat meat, and I haven't had more than 5 egg yolks in the past 2 years.

It's definitely physical activity that's getting me. I need more of it.  One-mile brisk walks aren't enough. 5-mile hikes once in a while aren't enough.  Hell, it looks like occasionally climbing 500 stone steps at a time isn't doing the trick, either. I need to run myself into the ground, old-school sports team style.

This week I joined a weight loss plan for the umpteenth time. Right now, in writing, I'm making a renewed commitment to exercise every single day, more than once, if possible. I rode the exercise bike for 20 minutes this morning, and am leaving shortly to smack the dickens out of some balls at the batting cage. I've reassembled my bike; next step is to take it to the shop for a tuneup.  Every morning in the breezeway outside our building, I need to put on my iPod and run through my Kung-Fu self-defense routines. (Yeah, I'm serious; I took a class recently.)

Cue the Rocky training montage. My first weigh-in is Monday.

Posting about this isn't enough motivation, though. I need to make it a challenge. So here goes.  My goal: lose 10% of my body weight by the end of July. That's not my final goal, but it's a reasonable start. For every week that I lose no weight, I'll donate $1 to the American Diabetes Association, because healthy as I am, that's the disease most likely to afflict me unless I get back to my high school fighting weight.

Hopefully by the end of the summer, I'll look a bit more like this:

Larry David Moments

In our household, we have a habit of labeling our Larry David Moments. Keisuke says he has them all the time, though aside from the multitude of occasions in which he antagonizes bad drivers on purpose, putting both our lives in danger, I don't really see it.

I think I have more Larry David moments, but mine are subtler.

Exhibit A:

I just now I got off the phone with a domain registrar. I had to call and ask a simple question. I put the phone on speaker.  After 10 minutes of hypnotic piano chamber music, my technician, Joey, finally picked up. I asked him my question:

"I just put in a request to transfer a domain out... is that all I have to do?  About how long would that take to complete?"

"You don't need to do anything else, it's all automatic. It can take as long as 5 to 7 days. I've seen it go through in as fast as 2 hours--"

"Okay, great, thank you--"

"You're welcome, and thank you for--"

CLICK.

Keisuke, eavesdropping, said, "You hung up on him!"

"Yeah, well... I got my answer."

"Yeah, but he was still talking!"

"Yes... but they made me sit on hold for 10 minutes to wait for information that should take 10 seconds. I already gave them 10 minutes of my life, I'm not sitting on that call a second longer than I have to."

In retrospect, I wish I'd been nicer and listened to Joey's polite goodbyes, because he seems like a nice guy. That wasn't my best moment. But what can I say? It wouldn't be a Larry David Moment if I could control it.

Exhibit B

This is not a Moment, not yet.  Right now it's just an observation. 

Nowadays, in grocery stores and retail shops, the checkout staff rush you to get out the door at the end of a transaction. Nobody gives you time to put your change and receipt back in your wallet. This has been driving me crazy for at least a year.

When I pay for things, I get tremendous agita in anticipation of what I think of as the "shopping dismount":

1. Hand over my cash
2. Receive my change
3. Have bag of merchandise, groceries, etc. foisted at me while I awkwardly juggle my wallet

There's a step missing here. The process should go like this:

1. Hand over my cash
2. Receive my change
3. Take a moment to calmly insert my change and receipt into my wallet, then insert my wallet into my handbag or pocket
4. Have bag of merchandise, groceries, etc. held out to me with a smile

Everywhere I go, the cashiers do Steps 1, 2 and 4, but they skip over 3. This happens at the drugstore, the fashion boutiques, the Best Buy, the Target. I end up standing there, awkwardly fumbling with my money while the cashier's arms shake from the stress of suspending a 5-pound bag of diet soda and cookie dough over the conveyor belt.

Why are they in such a hurry? Why can't they wait a few seconds for me to do something with my money? Is this crucial step being omitted from the training video?

At this point, this is just an observation; but if it happens one more time, I suspect it'll reach its tipping point and become a true Larry David Moment. One of these days I'll finally stop rushing, take my sweet time putting my cash away, and be screamed at by the store manager after the cashier sprains her wrist under the strain of all that waiting for me to take the bag. 

Psychic Hits

Thanks to Christina, I read a memoir by a psychic last year, in which she discusses in pretty vague terms how to develop one's gift.  You're supposed to write down all your dreams in a journal, and if one comes true, you put a star next to it to record it as a "hit". 

Precognition is pretty generously described by this psychic.  You could dream, for example, that a dog bit you on the ass, and if three days later a raccoon pees on your roommate's foot, well. Good enough!

I've always suspected I have the thing they call "women's intuition". As I've mentioned before on this blog, I am freakily good at reading peoples' minds during games like charades, Cranium, and Taboo. And though I know a lot of people claim this, I really do know who's calling before I go to look at the Caller I.D. 

In honor of this slight glimmer of talent, occasionally I jot my dreams down and mark the "hits".  So far, only one dream I recorded was psychic. I dreamed that someone annoying called and woke me up in the middle of the night.  The next day, that person did call, waking me up from an afternoon nap. Score!  I'm not sure, but that may be enough credentials for me to open a Tarot and Palmistry shack on Ventura Boulevard.

Maybe you'll find it tough to believe that after this earth-shattering psychic event, my gift went underground for several months. Things have been quiet around here. I haven't exactly been tearing up the SuperLotto.  But then two weeks ago, a funny thing happened. We put on "Iron Chef America".  Keisuke mused aloud about what the secret ingredient might be.  I said "Black licorice!" 

I was wrong, of course.  But Iron Chef Cat Cora won, and per her tradition, she poured a round of ouzo -- licorice flavored liquor -- for each of her cooks.  So in a sense, I was right.  Black licorice was central to that night's episode. Score!

Then, three days ago, we were walking down the street when I suddenly thought about a friend of mine in Connecticut that I hadn't heard from in months.  I said aloud that it was odd I hadn't heard from him in so long, and that I ought to contact him and see what's up.  Then I forgot about him. (Sorry, dude.) The next day, he emailed me to apologize for not getting in touch for months.  Score!

I'm not sure where this is going, or why I'm writing about it. This is another one of those posts that sounds like it's leading up to something, when it's really about to poop out at any second with no finish and no summary statement to explain why it exists. I used to be famous for writing those.  So maybe it's time to bring that tradition back, incompletion being my signature writing style and all.

G'night.

p.s. While searching online for a photo of a medium, I found Old is the New New, which may be my new favorite place online.

White People

Four days of not posting, and I only have two things to say, and neither one is very deep, I'm afraid:

1. Though the blog Stuff White People Like is painfully accurate almost all of the time, the most recent entry on Outdoor Performance Clothes is especially "ouch" for me.  I just spent my $111.84 dividend credit at REI earlier this week, buying two pair of SmartWool socks, one wicking hoodie and some brown convertible quick-dry hiking pants. Gawd, this is humiliating. I am so... pale.

2. Now I know the real reason I am so fond of films from the 1970s and early 80s -- because they make me feel better about my hair.  This is what my hair often looks like if I forget to use conditioner:

Exhibit A: Assault on Precinct 13, 1976

That is actually *exactly* what my hair looks like if I don't get it cut with an elaborate system of layers.

Exhibit B: The Howling, 1981

That's what it looks like in the morning, right after I've taken my werewolf for a walk.

Exhibit C: Meatballs, 1979 (take your pick)

And that's what it looks like every other day of the year.

In an effort to reach some sort of peace accord with this hair, I'm making a renewed commitment to watch more '70s films AND use more conditioner. I figure that's a fair compromise.  In all relationships, both sides need to give a little bit to get results.

3 Things I Have an Inexplicable Desire to Horde Hoard Like a Crazy Lady

1. Bottles of wine
2. Boxes of tea
3. Walnuts

If I Could Time Travel

I'm in a sullen mood right now, brought on by the dawning realization that I may soon need -- or, oh hell, WANT -- a new car. I've never had a new car; just a free Ford Escort my family inherited, and then a twice-used Mercury Tracer I bought from my cousin. 

Thinking about cars got me thinking about the car my dad bought and fixed up for me when I was in high school. It was, I think, some kind of Corvette, 1970s, white with a teal interior. The nose was so long, I couldn't begin to imagine parallel parking it.  To a teenage boy, it would be the ultimate, but to my khakis-wearing, image conscious 16 year-old self it was a Drug Dealer Mobile with fuzzy dice hanging from the mirror.  I struggled for months to communicate my distaste for the car using passive aggressive techniques such as "Sidle past the auto without looking at it".  Eventually Dad got the hint and asked me if I didn't like the car. I agreed that I didn't. He said that was okay, I didn't have to drive a car I didn't like. He said he'd finish fixing it up, sell it, and give me the money for college. (He didn't.)

About two years later, he died of cancer.

If I had a time machine, this is the one thing I would go back and do differently. I'd take that car and drive it to high school every single day.

On the down side, thinking about this makes me really sad. On the up side, thinking about it has given me an idea for a spec script. It'd be nice to finally get something good out of being evil when I was 16.

Screw the To Do List - Make a "Did Do" List Instead

In our goal-oriented culture, we tend to focus too much on the negative. Most of the time, when we make lists, they're lists of things we ought to do; and inevitably, at the end of the day, items are left undone. This makes us feel insufficient, as if we've failed to accomplish those final 2-3 items, rather than proud of the items we did complete -- whether they are on or off that list.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, as I struggle with my time management vis a vis being a self-employed self-starter (ergo, CEO, creative department, marketing manager, bookkeeper, and tax professional) a writer, a girlfriend, a family member, a friend, and a person trying to become more physically fit.

Sometimes I think To Do Lists are more a burden than an organizational tool. Too often they leave you feeling trapped or harassed instead of successful and efficient.

This topic loomed large for me last night, after I began to make a list of 100 Things to Do Before I Go, inspired by Maggie Mason. At first this seemed like a fun exercise in life-planning; but it quickly morphed into an opportunity for anxiety as I realized how many things there were left for me to do.

Here's an idea -- instead of listing off the things we have yet to do, why don't we list off the things we've already done?  Most of us are much more fascinating, accomplished and experienced than we think. We need to give ourselves more credit.

To this end, yesterday I started a new habit. I'm going to jot down, at the end of each day, everything I accomplished that day.

Here's an example of my entry for Sunday:

• Watched 2 episodes of "Six Feet Under"
• Typed up some more notes for my novel
• Invoiced clients
• Drew a sketch for my business website redesign
• Went on a vigorous staircase walk in Hollywood (500+ steps climbed!) with a friend, then took her out to dinner for her birthday

That's not bad for a Sunday. I felt pretty good looking at this list, realizing I'd packed a lot of living and a little bit of work into a single day. It felt great recognizing the good things I did rather than looking at my To Do List and beating myself up over the things I didn't do.

Now I'm wondering what kind of list I'd have if instead of tallying "100 Things to Do Before I Go", I tallied "100 Amazing Things I've Done Already".

I'm going to work on that later today and try and post it tomorrow.  If anyone else out there feels inspired to take a stab at a list like this, let me know and leave a link when yours is up. I'd love to read it.

Last Night's Lost, Mohican Glamour Haircuts, and My Bad Relationship to Time

On the Subject of Mohicans

Last night someone got to this blog by searching for "Mohican glamour haircuts."  Say what?  How strange. I hope you found what you're looking for. 

On the Subject of "Lost"

Last night I got a bunch of hits from people looking for info on last night's episode of Lost.

Okay, so Saeed sold his soul to Ben. Last night's flash-forwards were eerily similar to your average episode of Alias. For a few moments I forgot which show I was watching, with all the passports, double-crossing and ass-kicking going on.  There was more gunplay last night than we've seen in the past 3 season combined.

Theories:

The island is a time machine. That's why it's 1/2 hour behind the rest of the world. Ben is the only person who knows how to fully exploit its powers. I'm now convinced he's the one in Jack's coffin, (this has always been my belief), because his death would mean that nobody can find their way back to the island. This would make Jack cry. And so he does.

I believe Ben's "list" is a list of all other humans who know how to find the island. Saeed has been killing them off in order to protect his friends from the Wrath of Ben. Or something.

(I have no idea re: the meaning behind Ben's original "list" -- the people he meant to snatch from the Losties' camp in the first 2 seasons.)

If Ben is the guy in the coffin, this means either Saeed finally had enough and killed him, or someone from the other side got to him.  It's probably #2, because that implies that there is at least one other person who knows how to get back, which leaves the door open for Jack to find that person and make his appeal.

The reason it's not Ben's name in the obituary is that Ben obviously has many -- wait for it -- aliases. Get it? Last night's ep was just like an ep of "Alias"...

On the Subject of Watching Lost on HD

On HD, you can see every whisker of every guy's scruffy beard.  You can occasionally catch a glimpse of freckles and sun damage on pale peeps like Jeremy Davies and Evangeline Lilly. But for the most part, almost nobody I've seen on HD has had trouble standing up to the scrutiny.  Actors are good looking people. I hate to be the one to say it, but there it is -- they're not like the rest of us. Don't kid yourself.

On the Subject of My Relationship to Time

Speaking of time machines, I am having a craptastic (to borrow a word from my friend Victor) relationship to time lately. I just took a self-inventory questionnaire about this, but I'm not sure what to do with the results, because all they do is point out the obvious:

a) I procrastinate on things that I don't find meaningful (which is the same as saying "I hate busywork.")

b) I spend too much time with the internet, and it does not enhance my life, but instead makes me feel more tense about the briefness of life in this mortal coil, and less attached to the wonder of the real world.

c) I spend too little time engaged in activites about which I feel impassioned. (Such as helping others, working with animals, writing/creative endeavors, travel, outdoor activities like hiking, canoeing/kayaking, sports in general.)

d) I spend more time worrying about work, and thinking about work, than actually doing work.

The obvious answer is to stop doing B and D, pay someone else to do A, and reallocate all of the time saved to C. Which is a process I've been doing since January 1, but which is taking me longer than anticipated. Argh.

A Short Essay By a Probable Genius

I need to do something about this tired, having no energy thing. Maybe I'll take a nap.

THE END

The Bucket List

No, not things to do before you kick off.  I'm talking about things you want to do in general, and whether you should be doing them or not. Sometimes the things you think you want to do, you put on your list because you think you SHOULD do them. Sorting out the Shoulds from the Wants is something I'm continually working on.

Christina wrote recently that she needed to put her stuff -- screenwriting, non-fiction writing, playing music -- in the same bucket and sort out priorities.  I need to do the same.

Here's what's on my Bucket List right now:

1. Simplifying my work life and building a framework for passive income. This is easy enough and will probably work like gangbusters once I set it up; but it requires a lot of copywriting and concentrated effort. Entire days must be blacked out on my calendar in order to get this done.
2. My novel.  Rough-drafting/outlining as I am, I'm almost to the end of Act Two, which equals about 15 chapters.  I told myself I'd complete outlining/preliminary drafting by the end of February. Doable, but not without significant pain.
3. Screenwriting. What can I say?  At the moment I'm unmotivated in this particular area. Which is a shame, because the high-concept romantic comedy I started writing 2 summers ago is really good, in theory. Airtight good. Screwball good. I'm just afraid to write it. Afraid to find out I'm not very funny! The awful truth!
4. Photography.  I've never been a camera geek, not in the slightest. But I do own a Nikon SLR 35mm camera (film, not digital) and I have a good eye. The last thing the world needs is yet another recreational photographer/blogger. But I've figured out that I like being outdoors as much as possible.  So I am toying with the idea of learning my way around a camera so I can further enable this goal. If there's a different way to tell stories than writing -- one that facilitates outdoors activity and travel, instead of impeding it -- then that's something I want to know about. Stat. I am really starting to chafe at this Life Lived Online thing.  I want to be away from my computer a lot more.
5. Book Club.  I'm starting one locally, with a friend. We're having our first meeting in March and are going to be reading and discussing books that have been adapted into film.
6. Entrepreneurial Thingie.  Another friend and I are in the initial phases of sketching out a project that will support creative freelancers.
7. Writing Retreats.  This is something I promised myself at the end of last year -- I would make time on the calendar for periodic, isolated writing retreats. Me in a hotel or cabin, banging out the pages. It's February already and I haven't put anything on my schedule.
8. The Post Pub. I'm just not sure what to do with this blog at this point. It's a drain on my already limited reserves of time and energy. I need to give it a focus makeover in order to hone in on the magic combo that will make it both easy and desireable for me to write new posts. I have a few ideas but need to think about them -- whether they're going to make it worth my while. This may fall into the category of a project I thought I SHOULD do, for professional reasons, instead of one I really wanted to do.
9. My Back Pages.  This blog, and what to do with it.  Talk about film adaptations? Books that were made into movies?  Will that be fun enough?  Not sure. Still thinking. Making My Back Pages more interesting may also be a Should instead of a Wants To.  After all, this blog has always been for me; not for traffic or fame.

So that's it: my Bucket List. I need to sort it out soon, so I can make a little more time for R&R.

Just when I think it's over, I have nothing left to blog about:

I see this ad when I log into Facebook:

Egg Freezing Success

Learn more about egg freezing success rates - click to listen to Dr. Copperman, Vice Chair of Reproductive Science at Mount Sinai

Should I be offended?

Parents, send your kids HERE.

Dartmouth has committed to waiving tuition for students whose families earn less than $75,000 a year. (That's 70% of U.S. families, FYI.) 

If they want the best, brightest and most diverse student population in the Ivy League, they're off to one heck of a great start. I don't know a financially struggling kid on the planet who could turn down this deal, given the caliber of the school, the quality of campus life, and the amazing dining hall food. (Seriously.)  The professors and the amazing new library are nothing to sneeze at, either.

Feeling very proud of my alma mater today.  I only wish they'd done this when I was 18. A free ride might've been nice!

Lessons Learned Slowly in the Past 24 Hours

Things I can pay professionals to do for me:

• Design and format business letterhead
• Install Movable Type into a subdomain directory

The reasons why I need to pay professionals to do this for me, instead of being stubborn and trying to "learn something new" by doing it myself:

• Reading
• Writing
• Exercising
• Sleeping
• Watching movies
• Being sociable

It's bad enough I do my own taxes.  Time to relinquish control over the things that take me forever and get me nowhere.

A couple days ago Keisuke and I were discussing retirement, and why people want to retire young. He claims the retired fill their time with activities like golf, skiing and sailing to avoid complete boredom. I claim those are the things they really love, and to them, full retirement means putting away the things you have to do in favor of the complete freedom to do what you want to do. 

He said we're both essentially retired, since we work from home and don't work 40 hours per week.  I said if that's true, I need to work more on my retirement mentality -- that is, compartmentalizing my time so that when I'm not "at work", I'm really not at work; I'm getting out of the house and having fun doing things like hiking, camping, travel, skiing, what have you.

He said "I see no evidence that you're going to be able to do that."

Meaning, I'm too uptight and I can't stop thinking about work.  It spills over into everything, and I end up in the house, either working or thinking about working.  Basically, unless we're apartment-hunting, I'm either always working, or folding laundry and worrying about the fact that I'm NOT working.

Gotta fix that, but not sure how.

It'd be nice if I could rewire my brain so my story goes something like this:

I can't stop thinking about writing.

OR

I can't stop thinking about skiing.

At this point, I'd settle for:

I can't stop thinking about chocolate.

I guess I want a mindset that resembles a bumper sticker:  "I'd rather be fishing".

Busy Living Update

There's nothing much to blog about in my world right now.  But let me break down what few updates I have into categories.

Home Improvement

We're tossing out old furniture and revamping our apartment in an early fit of spring cleaning. We converted an IKEA Expedit shelving unit into a serviceable and nice-looking TV stand, with two doors that hide our Playstation and Atari controllers. 

We've determined that our interior decorating style is Japanese Farmer:  one-half rustic, farmy-looking furnishings, one-half clean lines, river pebbles, cedar planks and incense.  I would be happy if, in the end, we designed ourselves a home that looks like a cross between Vermont and the zendo we visit each summer in upstate New York.  With a little bit of high-desert light tossed in, for that Western feel.

I've been watching a lot of design shows on HGTV.  (Can't you tell?)

Writing

I've outlined three more chapters of my novel... I'm on Chapter 14 now, but I realize I have to step up the writing hours if I plan to hit my target of outlining all of Act Two by January 31. 

As a reminder, when I say Outlining, it's more like what Dave describes on his blog -- a "scriptment", which is a cross between a script and a treatment. You hit all the beats, quickly, but you write some actual scenes and dialogue while you're at it. What I'm doing is halfway between writing an outline and writing the book itself.  Each Chapter is currently an average of 3 handwritten pages long.  It's going really well, and I'm continually surprised at how many little revelations there are along the way, and how everything ties together into a neat, unified theme.

Moving

We're going to a lot of open houses... L.A. prices are coming down, but not fast enough.  We still find it patently ridiculous that anybody should be spending more than $300,000 on a 2-BR house or condo. We're sure things will soon fall to the level where decency can be acquired for $400,000. When we find ourselves getting excited about this, we move quickly from anticipation to rapid vomiting.  $400,000, after all, is almost half a million dollars. In most parts of the country, this would be considered prohibitively expensive.

Work

What may help with the housing conundrum is the fact that I have a lot of work referrals coming in; enough that I've started designing a curriculum for a group teleseminar I will sell through my business, because it's the only way I can handle the influx and still have time to house-hunt, read, eat, sleep, write my novel, blog, and live my life.

Movies

We saw PERSEPOLIS last night, which was very good.

And we're reveling in the arrival of free SAG screeners.  Re-watched 3:10 TO YUMA while house-cleaning, and I'm determined the last 15 minutes of that film are why people go to the movies. Perfect. 

We also have SAG screeners of INTO THE WILD (already saw it; not my favorite; but good background for folding laundry), AWAY FROM HER (can't wait to watch), HAIRSPRAY (will burn for entertainment), and NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (which will fuel another several months of Javier Bardem nightmares).

And that's about it.  Except that I still think CLOVERFIELD looks bad, but the reviews I've read are succeeding in making me curious. Though it probably will make me barf. God hates hand-held video cameras.

Memories of Youth

Question: how much do you remember about your childhood and grade school days?

I don't remember much of anything: very few teachers' names, and rarely, if ever, the kids that were in my class.  Very few memories that I can firmly attach to a specific year or location. 

However, my boyfriend, as well as many of my high school friends, excel at this kind of memory.  They can set the scene, tell you who was there, and lay out a story with a beginning, middle, and end. And they always know the teacher's name.

I'm trying to figure out if I have an exceptionally poor memory. I suspect that I might. In the past year friends and acquaintances have relayed several high school stories to me of which I have no recollection. Sometimes I get upset, thinking they're confusing me with other, cooler friends they did things with, and that I'm interchangeable with someone else, but then they insist that no, it's me, we totally did that, dude. 

Really?

If you're like me, in your early to mid 30s and cannot recite your teachers' names, then I want to know about it.  Please. I'm begging you.

Zen Purge

If the world doesn't hear from me for another day or so, it's because we've begun a Zen Purge. It started last night with a trip to IKEA, and continues through today.  We've built furniture we need to put in place, and we're tossing furniture we need to break down and stuff in the dumpster. I'm also throwing away most of my DVD cases in favor of filing the discs in a pocket notebook.

The upswing of all of this: a lower-profile, more calming-looking entertainment area.

We're doing all of this to make up for the fact that we still can't find a habitable apartment in Los Angeles for two people and two home offices for less than $3000. So our answer -- logical, I think -- is to throw out half the things we own. This doesn't solve my sleep problems, but at least our place looks a lot less hectic.

Back to work as soon as the Wreckage That Ate Our Living Space is subdued to our satisfaction.

Hobby Needed.

The more I live, the more I believe that human beings cannot be productive at a computer station for more than 4 hours at a time.  And even that is pushing one's luck.

I need a tactile hobby to balance out this predominately electronic lifestyle. Something that can take anywhere from 20 minutes to 1 hour -- a break from the computer and thoughts of the internet.  Preferably something that involves working with my hands instead of ideas.  No dirty suggestions, please.

And don't say "laundry". It most definitely doesn't count.

Killing 12 Minutes While I Wait Until I Can Call in to Determine My Jury Duty Status for Tomorrow.

I've been back from vacation for 10 days now, and already I need a retreat, but not from the real world. No, I need a retreat to help me DEAL with the real world. Specifically, work. I've gotten to the point in my job where I'm getting a steady stream of referrals, enough so that I now require a System for handling everything that's coming at me.  I've been dancing around the System since last June, and while parts of it have come together in nice little chunks, it's still not done. I need more.  More structures. Beginnings, middles, and ends. (Three acts for consulting gigs, just like three acts in a screenplay.)

Seven minutes left...

Here's how I envision Work Retreat:  5 straight days at the public library Downtown, sketching, writing, and making plans. I would send myself on this Retreat this week, and call it Professional Development Week, a good way to kick off 2008, but I can't; I have to keep calling in after 5:00 p.m. each day to find out tomorrow's jury duty status.  With something like that hanging over my head, I find it hard to do anything other than moderately-sized tasks, like doing my bookkeeping, cleaning out my In Boxes and getting my work space organized.  I have a hard time thinking grandiose thoughts without a grandiose amount of time in which to accomplish them.

Five minutes left...

On the bright side, at breakfast today I figured out what work task I enjoy the most, and how to describe it to others.  It was already my goal for '08 to do more of this one thing and less of everything else, and I do have a plan for getting there. But that's a separate Plan from the Plan I need to work on during my Retreat.  Plan A is to Do What I Want to Do; Plan B is to Package & Streamline the Things I Have to Do in the meantime.  I know, I know, it's all very convoluted. Welcome to the mixed-up lifestyle of the self-employed.

Two minutes...

This entire post is an exercise in procrastination.  There is something I have to do that I don't feel like doing, and so I'm avoiding it and using jury duty as my scapegoat.  That, my friends, is the kind of insight a few months of talk-therapy can buy for you.

One minute...

Drats, time's up.  Civic duty or no civic duty?

Two Blasts from the Commercial Past

Life Alert:

Anti-Drug PSA:

New Year, New Photo.

Now I have to redesign the blog to match, sigh.

Lost Musings & Insomnia Update

According to Matthew Fox in Entertainment Weekly, part of the reason Jack may be suicidal in last season's finale is that he might not have gotten everyone off the island.  Fox also says that the ones who are back in the real world are "sick of lying" because they have some big secret they've been keeping from the world when they return from the island.  And on that note, a clip for you, of the scene that still gives me chills. (Matthew Fox is so bringing his A-game here.)

I'm sure there are a lot of weird time travel scenarios this could be about, but my mind instantly goes somewhere darker: what if a condition of getting off the island is that Jack has to choose a handful of people to bring with him, and the rest have to stay behind or somehow get sacrificed to the island itself (which seems to be sentient)?  This sure would tear him up about being called a "hero".

I'm surprised I can even type these idle musings, seeing as I slept 0 hours on Saturday and about 3 hours last night.  My inability to sleep has rocketed Get a New Apartment on the #1 position on our to-do list.  We've been looking on and off for months, but rents in L.A. are ridiculous right now, and it's been difficult to find anything that's decent and affordable.  We're at the point of near-equilibrium where buying a dated, hideous condo for $400,000 may make more sense than paying $2500 a month in rent for something that's just barely not a hovel. 

It'll be hard to leave this one-bedroom loft apartment -- it is super-posh for a single person living alone, and with the two floors it's a rather survivable floor plan for two people who work from home.  But the bottom line is there are no doors or walls, which means there's nowhere for a light sleeper like myself to escape the sound of my boyfriend's snoring.  On top of that, since this is a loft, the heat rises and makes the bedroom stuffy at night, and I tend to sleep best when the room's colder than 68 degrees.

I need an apartment with a dark little silent cave to sleep in, and I need one ASAP. I've aged 5 years in 12 months and lost a lot of productive work hours last year to the inactive malaise of insomnia.  With the exception of the 6 weeks we spent in upstate NY last summer, I've not slept a single good night without the aid of medication in the past 12 months. This apartment is killing me.

If the blogging drops off over the next several weeks (here and on The Post Pub, which is sorely in need of updating), this is why.  It's suddenly dawned on me that my health comes before work, and maybe even before writing.  In any event, if I don't get some proper sleep soon, I won't be very good at either of those things, and I really want to excel at both of them.  So wish us luck.

En Enero.

In my life, I have known 2 people born January 6, 4 people born on January 7, 4 born on January 8 (if you count Elvis and myself), and 2 born on January 11 (my grandfather and his father).  As far as I'm concerned, people born in early January are obviously superior. Happy Birthday!

Back in L.A.

We just got back from the Grand Canyon about 1 hour ago, and already I'm deeply immersed in 2008. I have a coupled deadline-driven tasks to do this week for work, tons of stuff to unpack, and jury duty to report for in 10 days (for the first time ever).  With all the family and National Park visiting of the past 3 weeks, I haven't had an overly large amount of time to reflect on how to best allocate the next year of my life, though I do have a few things in mind:

1. Simplify my work life (meaning day job).

2. Write at a regular, established time every day for the entire year, starting tomorrow.  With the primary goal of completing a novel. Secondary goal, to work on some screenwriting projects. Overall goal, to make a living off creative writing by this time next year.

3. Improve my quality of sleep.

4. Keep things in perspective. Always keep what I really want to do/enjoy on the front burner.

5. Have more fun and adventures.

These could either be simple feats or mighty undertakings, depending on my attitude and my willingness to get distracted and let other things control my brain space.  But for now, those are my major goals, and I'm sticking to them.

Regarding # 5, here's a brief rundown of what I've seen/done in the past few weeks: (straddling 2007/2008)

1. Brought a boyfriend to Christmas festivities for the first time.

2. Saw an enormous, white hawk or falcon in my aunt's back yard on Christmas day (great omen).

3. Spent some time wandering around Manhattan.

4. Saw a play (real play, not musical) on Broadway.

5. Went on a pub crawl in historical New Jersey/Pennsylvania, along the Delaware River. (One of the highlights of my holiday season.)

6.  Visited: Santa Fe (including the glorious 10,000 Waves hot springs), Petroglyph National Monument, The Painted Desert/Petrified Forest, Meteor Crater, and the Grand Canyon (the single most terrifying experience ever).

We also bought some really cool art to hang in the apartment.

Pictures later. Basic human maintenance (including showering, cleaning, putting things away) comes first.

Christmas Stories, Coming Later.

I'm too wiped out to write much at the moment; we fly back to L.A. tomorrow, take one day off at home to pay bills and get things squared away, then go of on a New Year's road trip to Santa Fe to visit a friend and buy some of his abstract art to hang on our walls.

This year, one of the highlights of Christmas, for me, was my boyfriend telling me my extended family reminded him of the movie DAN IN REAL LIFE.  We're not moneyed WASPS with cabins by the Rhode Island shore, but there are a lot of us, and we've been doing the same holiday for 40-some-odd years.  As such, we have the whole shtick down: what to eat, when to clear the table and open the presents, and how to fill a house with conversational bustle and loud laughter.  There were 18 people at Christmas Eve and probably about 22 on Christmas Day.  Seeing my family through his eyes, I'm suddenly doubly appreciative of what a large and great clan I have -- friendly, welcoming, fun, funny, warm, and ridiculously appreciative of gift-giving.  This is why I have never missed a Christmas in Connecticut -- not because I'm greedy, but because what I've got going on back home is simply too good to miss. It was nice to share that spirit with someone else.

Enough Reveling, Already!

I'm one of those people who buys booze but never drinks it.  We have an apartment with a swanky wet bar hidden away under the stairs, and it's full with the usual assortment of alcohols adults are expected to own in case of emergency visits from friends:  cheap well vodka, some gin, some Bailey's, a few bottles of wine.

I rarely drink any of them for 3 reasons:  1. I forget they're there; 2. It's no fun to drink alone; 3. Alcohol is high in empty calories.

Another reason I'll be glad when 2007 is over:  I can't handle any more drinking.  Starting with my friends visiting L.A. in mid-November, the last 6 weeks of my life have felt like I'm sipping on one giant cocktail. It's too much. If I had $100 for every key lime and lemon drop martini, glass of wine, and stein of hard cider I've had in the past 42 days, I'd be able to pay off my credit card debt. 

Creative Birthday Ideas Needed

I pride myself on planning creative birthday excursions each year, so that everyone is entertained and the experience is a fun and memorable romp for everyone involved.  I don't care so much about being feted and honored on my birthday; my idea of a great birthday is one I spend in the company of friends, doing something fun and unusual.

I'm looking for an idea for 2008.  The countdown has begun: my birthday is on Jan. 8.  I have to come up with something fast.

Initially, my plan was to go to Medieval Times. However, it's all the way down by Disney and the tickets are $52, which is just too much to ask of friends.  In lieu of that, I'm considering a hockey game or a hike. Hockey games can be at least $30 per ticket, though, so I'm on the fence.

Here's a list of past birthday parties I've thrown. I'm looking for a topper.

2007:  beer & sausage at the Red Lion Tavern in Silver Lake (German beer haus)

2006:  brunch at Home Town Buffet + hike in Altadena + the home version of Dance Dance Revolution in the evening

2005:  8th grade dance party:  guests had to show up bringing music they loved in jr. high, and had to dress the way they did back then.  This was great because participants ranged in age from early 20s to late 30s, and everyone danced.

2004:  Roller skating in Glendale

I liked the idea of Medieval Times because it topped the kitsch of the Home Town Buffet experience.  I'm all for kitsch, but not if it's going to cost everyone an unreasonable amount of money.

Ideas?  By the way, if you're local, and your idea is good, I will add you to the Evite.

2007 End-of-Year Rundown Meme

Can you tell I'm wanting this year to be over?  I'm already posting my annual summary of my Year That Came Before.  (Read also: 2006, 2005, 2004.)

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before?

• Spent a significant amount of time in upstate New York.
• Used prescription sleep aids.
• Got interested in cars.
• Interviewed executives via Skype + Audio Hijack Pro. Works like a dream.
• Got addicted to genealogy. Discovered that one of my great-grandfathers founded a town in shoreline Connecticut, was the colonies' first head of Indian Affairs, was fluent in a few Algonquian languages, and was very good friends with a Mohegan guy named Uncas.  Also discovered that one of my other great grandfathers was, allegedly, King Phillip of the Pokanoket tribe, instigator of America's first and bloodiest civil war. (King Phillip's War.)  So in a nutshell, my ancestors knew each other and killed each other's relatives during war time -- then, a few generations later, became family. It's weird to think about.
• Went to Yosemite.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Some of them. Here's my list of 2007 resolutions:

Christmas Season Feelings

A gal needs one day a week that's completely hers. Saturdays have become that for me.  A little earlier this evening I cranked up the all-Christmas-songs radio station and sat beside our lit tabletop Christmas tree (real, not plastic), drinking tea and reading a Christmas-season novel. That finally put me in the spirit, and introduced me to the notion that it could be possible to feel Christmas anywhere, even in Southern California. All you need is a little mood lighting and the right soundtrack.

I love Christmas.  I was raised Catholic, went to CCD, and have a confirmation name, but I'm not religious. I don't even think I'm spiritual, per se. Nevertheless, all those songs about peace on earth, good will towards men, yadda yadda yadda, really affect me. I love Christmas's pagan aspects (yule logs, sprigs of trees, wreaths on doors, mistletoe) and I love its Christian overtones (the baby Jesus; nativity sets; songs with the word "holy" in them). I love caroling, though I haven't done it since 2001. I love the cheesy snowman decorations and the special candles from the Yankee Candle Factory. I love the proliferation of parties and all the millions of permutations on hot liquor. (Gloegg, anyone?)

I also love Love, Actually.

But I love most is that Christmas puts a pretty little bow on the year that came before it, rewards us for our pains with presents, then wipes the slate clean so we can start over with a new host of goals and plans for the new year.

I'm no sure what those goals and plans for 2008 are yet, but I need to start thinking about them. I can note one of them: I'm going shopping for a new pair of running shoes tomorrow with a friend.  Goodbye to New Balance, which is screwing up my gait; I'm returning to my beloved Asics.  My friend and I are going to start training together. She's making noises about the Dublin Marathon, and I may pretend to join in, but I know full well I have no intention of running 26 miles in this lifetime. Not unless a werewolf is chasing me.

Still, I pretend, to get her to go shopping with me. And isn't that what Christmas is all about?

The Real Scoop

I'm not embarrassed to share this since half the country is in the same boat as me, apparently:

Ambien IS habit-forming, and it does stop working after a while.

It stopped working for me about 2 weeks ago. It does nothing now; it's like a Tic-Tac. 

This is going to drive me nuts. I really like to sleep. It's normal. It's natural. There is nothing normal or natural about not being able to sleep, for weeks and weeks on end.  Above all else, this is the one reason why genetics can suck my big left one, thank you very much.