Saturday, January 31, 2009

"its been a long time, now i'm..."


"coming back home."
so in my last blog i wrote suggesting i would add more later and then i disappeared.
well, i got sick again...and then again...
i keep asking myself why i keep getting sick
perhaps it is because i work at an elementary school
perhaps because i take at least six trains a day
perhaps it is because i am not getting enough sleep
or perhaps it is because i am willing to stand out in the freezing cold for an entire day
running myself ragged
perhaps it is because i cannot say "no" to work or extra-curricular activities
perhaps it is the winter slowly crushing my southern californian immune system
lack of viatamin d?
depression?
i am at a loss
but i am tired of crying about it.
i will make a doctor's appointment (even though i already tried and he did not call me back)
i will take it a little more easy
and i will keep my spirits up!!
(or at least try)
and when i feel some more energy i will write my own inauguration ballad.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

hey, hey, hey






goodbye!
Today, Mike, Tara and I went to DC and welcomed Barack Obama to the White House! It was awesome and crazy. Completely chaotic and yet so inspiring. More tomorrow, but for now, enjoy these pics.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

2009


"it's going to be a long year."
he tells me this after citing all of the ailments that all of his grandparents have.
i had foolishly asked how they were doing
and after hearing all of the sad diagnoses, i wished i hadn't asked
something about saying them out loud, made it real
confrontation
knowing that i had drawn an attachment with these people
i did not want to care they were suffering
but i did, i do, and now there is worry where there used to be none.
the phrase sticks with me overnight.
will this be a long year?

this morning we leave the house and it is so cold there is no temperature
we make it to new york
and head into the secret basement of ICP
we wait for his portfolio to be reviewed
he tells me he is not nervous and for a second it is convincing
i, on the other hand, am nervous, excited, proud that we are even there.
The teacher comes out and questions him on terminology i have never heard before
and i am continually surprised by his answers
i am impressed
he knows his shit.
"So photography two, it is."
they shake hands and a smile spreads across his face
the kind he can't hide and the kind that i miss
it has been a while since i've seen it
my ideas and hope for this year begin to look brighter
it may be a long year, but my baby is smiling and not even the cold can bring us down.
congratulations, handsome.

Friday, January 16, 2009

the hero's dilemma



We sit in a boring administrative meeting watching the clock inch by
When the phone rings informing us a commercial plane has crashed into the Hudson River.
Everyone's hearts stop as we all take a collective silent gasp.
A few exit the meeting and come back with relief.
And within minutes we learn that everyone survived.
"That's one hell of a pilot," the woman says with such convincing authority.
After the meeting, I head to the Path train but am drawn by the show of it all.
The helicopters, the sirens, the quiet.
I switch directions and head towards the pier and join a group of concerned New Yorkers, gawkers, journalists...
I wonder if what I am doing is wrong or disgusting but I am compelled to see it.
When something happens in New York City, it hurts.
There;s a gut reaction and it dawns me why I have such a magnetic pull to this city.
We went through something together.
We survived something together and I was part of a people that pulled together.
When the city hurts, its people hurt and standing on that pier seeing all of the rescue boats and twinkling lights in the distance makes me feel alright again.
Immediately, the pilot is subbed a hero, and the next morning on the radio, people try to take this away from him.
"There were perfect weather conditions...there was no wind, I mean, I've seen the Hudson when it looks like the Ocean."
And I am stunned by people's immediate need to pull the hero off his platform.
The guy landed a plane on the Hudson River and no one was hurt.
Can we give the guy a break and perhaps a standing ovation?
Cynicism is poison.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

small victories

beating a cold
getting into an advanced writing class even though it will still cost me a lot of dough
train tickets to dc on 1/20
getting coverage in a day early
a compliment of some weird looking cookies i made
an apology
some laughs
starting the weekend feeling like a rock star...
and lets not forget a plane landing on the Hudson River and everyone walking away unharmed.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

fragile grasp

" i wasn't quite sure who the character in the story is waiting for...i think its her mom...but then again i don't know if i want to know. i felt a very 'waiting for godot' type feeling."

"i think it was her mom, but i'm not sure if she was an abusive alcoholic or one of those women who just doesn't want to grow up and is irresponsible."

"i got mood, but not story."

"i liked this story, a lot."

"i think it's about womanhood."

"it's about waking but then we need to step outside of herself."

"i can't help but notice, that both of the characters in both of your stories have a very fragile grasp of reality. they are trying to understand their past but have been damaged by their past...which gives you a wealth of stuff to mine."

a fragile grasp of reality catches me.
the eye contact, the stuffy room, the piercing eye contact, the soft but authoritative british accent, and i am wondering who were are talking about in this moment.
i will not cry for you, because this is all fiction. and these characters are made up. and the story is a lie, at best.
but why do i sweat?
i walk through the ghost town that is penn station at 10:30 on a Monday night.
people talk to themselves, look for sleep, look for warmth, look for anything.
these are the forgotten people weaving in and out of our paths,
just on the peripheral of God's vision
i find it hard to ask myself if i have a fragile grasp on reality in this place
if i am a person who is trying to understand my past but been damaged by it
comparatively, i am a superhero in this place
on second thought...maybe the guy throwing air punches thinks he is
"i write to understand things."
i tell him this as i get lost in the station looking for food, not really interested in anything
i lose my appetite around every corner
i settle on beef jerky
the perfect food for a superhero and work on a story entitled "Vikings" on the ride home.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

damnit

Dear Giants,

To Philly? Really? I guess the only thing to say is to dust yourselves off and beat the shit out of Plaxico.

-Disgruntled fan

Friday, January 9, 2009

a visit from the 818



"do you love your life? you love your life."
the valley dialogue is a dialogue within itself.
to know it is to love it.
to speak it is to understand it.
"how was the flight? Did you get your own tv screen?"
"I flew on miles. I'm lucky the plane had wings."
the drive home is full of run on sentences, sarcasm and laughter
we talk in tones and references and metaphors
switching from high pitched excitement to the LA droll in the back of our throats
our valley childhoods, our LA life, our hollywood wisdom manifests in our speech
sharp, happy, cynical, funny, and don't forget the wit
i can't explain how amazing it felt to reconnect with this fellow valley girl
and also to get to share a part of my life with someone from home
she is the first person from home that has seen it
and she is the perfect person to have seen it
"so nice seeing you, linds"
we squeeze goodbye and i am reminded of how i miss being called "linds"
she will do great things and i will be happy to pay $15 to see her movies in the future.

Monday, January 5, 2009

facebook spy

i have decided that facebook is a writer's paradise
it is voyeur heaven
you can spy on all the people you don't really care about
and yet care enough to see them in these permanent snapshots
high school friends i will probably never speak to again
and yet i am curious if they got fat, or sober, or married
i can flip through the photos of childhood friends
and see just how different our lives really have turned out
and are still turning, for that matter
these web albums give an abundant amount of stories, characters, plot twists
its like watching the reality tv version of a photographic shakespeare play out
a cross between the oc and beverly hills 90210, mix in a little reality bites and pop the popcorn
entertainment for hours
in so many ways, it seems as though nothing has changed with a group of 20 of them
and yet it must be different...right?
i never have to go to a high school reunion, not that i have any interest in ever doing so,
but facebook has freed us (though maybe shamefully) from these curiosities
and saved everyone money
so let the spying continue...

Sunday, January 4, 2009

A letter to my immune system

Dear immune system:
can you please get it the fuck together?
i woke up today with a full blown cold, soar throat, running nose, the whole nine yards
but more than anything, i woke up angry!
i'm taking vitamins, zycam, emergen-c
going to bed early, exercising
what more can i do??
i am tired of being sick
and if i hear one more person tell me its because i work in a school and that's :just what happens the first year" as if i will be staying beyond a year, i might punch someone in the face.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

happy new year

ten years ago, i drunkenly rang in the new year of 1999 to the background of Prince
last night, i soberly rang in the new year with one sip of champagne and a kiss with mike
we were in a room with wonderful people
all happy and starting the next new exciting chapter in their lives: marriage, new home, kids
"we're very far off from this," i quietly inform him
he smiles, "so?"
and i am reminded why i am with this guy in the first place
this year, i am going to relish in the now
try my hardest to savor the present
and enjoy every ounce of freedom i have
stars out, heart out.