It's Katie, everybody!

School's out

2010-08-19T14:19:00.000-07:00

I left Ohio ten years ago this past July. It was only a couple of years ago that I finally realized you really can never go home, and that the small town I was expecting to see when I visited just wasn't there anymore... on one hand, it remained the same boring place, full of churches and gas stations and not much else... but on the other hand, it seemed there was nothing familiar about it. Too much time had passed... people had moved on and made the town something it wasn't when I lived there. It took me being gone a long time to realize this happens to everyone's hometown. The longer you're away from it, the less it is yours anymore.

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Currently, in my hometown of Hubbard, Ohio, they are putting the finishing touches on a brand new high school. There are four schools in Hubbard: a parochial K-8 school, and the public elementary, middle, and high schools. Once the high school is complete, they'll tear down the old high school to make room for the new middle school. Then they'll tear down told middle school to make room for the new elementary school. It'll be a convenient campus, with access to pretty much anything a student could want. (Gone are the days of walking from the middle school to the adjacent community pool for swim classes in the middle of winter, and walking back to the middle school with frozen hair.)

We recently spent a week in Ohio and I drove past the new high school and mid-demolition old high school. I'm surprised to be full of emotion about this. My parents both went to the old high school. I went there, and so did both of my sisters. When I was younger, I always imagined sending my kids there when I grew up. (Note: not in a million years would I send my kids to Hubbard schools now, mainly because I'd have to live in Hubbard to do so. Oy.) I was nostalgic about the whole thing before I saw the school being torn down. But what really got me was seeing the band room with the windows blown out.

Gina and I met in band in the summer of 1992. We both played saxophone. (She was a cool band kid - I was not.) I loved being in band. I have so many good memories in that band room, vivid memories, but not vivid enough. It was always comforting to think that the band room would always be there for me to visit. My strongest connection to high school is with the band room, but the truth is, I loved every bit of that school. I had a great time, and learned a lot about myself in those four years. I laughed A LOT there, and met people who would become lifelong friends. I had teachers who I still think about to this day, teachers who changed the way I think about myself and the world. (I certainly had a lot of crappy teachers too... it wasn't all sunshine and roses.) To experience such a visible, tangible destruction of part of my past has been weird, to be perfectly honest. It's crazy to think all of that will be gone.

They had an open house of the school before they began demolition last spring. Of course, we couldn't go because well, we live in Los Angeles and Hubbard is not nearby.

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I was sad to miss it, but I'm old enough to know that walking through those hallways one last time won't elicit the feeling I'd be expecting. And the truth is, I know that school so well, I have it mapped out so vividly in my mind, what would one more walkthrough do? It reminds me of the scene in the series finale of Six Feet Under, where Claire is getting ready to leave home and she gets the family together for a picture, and Nate comes up behind her and says, "You can't take a picture of this... it's already gone."

So it's good. Out with the old, in with the new. Besides, I have gina, who I can say without a doubt is my favorite memory from high school.

Six years of blog entries; no comments.

2010-08-17T17:20:00.001-07:00

Ah, I'm a saver of things. I never got a lot of comments on this blog, but I was happy to read every single one. And now, they're all gone. Bye-bye!

I'm trying to get back on my own personal blog train, but this isn't encouraging. LAME!

Lesson

2010-06-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

Me, before gay pride last weekend: "I can have fun without alcohol!"

Me, after gay pride: "No, no I cannot."

A very casual observer's opinions on the oil spill

2010-05-27T12:22:00.000-07:00

I can’t even watch the footage of the oil spill. Except for one crab and one bird, I have carefully avoided shots of wildlife affected by the spill. I’ve seen the Spill Cam, and I’ve seen the satellite imagery of how large the spill is. Beyond this, I avoid visual coverage of it.

It’s frustrating to me that people are comparing Obama’s reaction to the spill to Bush’s reaction to Katrina. Just because two catastrophes happen in the same place doesn’t mean they’re the same. Bush’s administration was quite unaware of what Katrina had done until days after the hurricane hit. Americans were left to die in New Orleans while the government scrambled to help. There was a humanitarian crisis on our hands the size of which this country had not seen in a very long time.

Is the oil spill as catastrophic? It depends on your idea of catastrophe, but I would argue to say that yes, it’s just as catastrophic. It will affect the area for probably much longer than Katrina has and will. The Gulf is most likely forever changed because of this spill. It’s heartbreaking to think of the ramifications – the animals affected, the economy and jobs that will be affected. It’s terrible.

With Katrina, there was no one responsible but the government. Mother Nature smacked us in the face, and we depend on our government to take care of us when stuff like that happens. This BP disaster was a terrible accident, and while I won’t assign blame, there was and is a company whose job it is to fix it. I would say it’s the government’s responsibility to make sure that the company is fixing it, but ultimately, it’s up to BP to fix this. And it looks like they have, thank God. I don’t understand WHAT THE HELL TOOK SO LONG, but I also know I don’t know anything about oil drilling – I would imagine it’s pretty complicated. (I have to wonder why they don’t have a solid plan in place should disasters like this happen… perhaps this is where government can really shine – forcing oil companies to figure out a way to stop something like this right away the next time it happens…)

I don’t understand people rushing to blame Obama for this. It seems like the people who are blaming the Obama administration are the same people who think government involvement is generally a bad idea. Also, adding a jab to the left side of the spectrum, I don’t agree with people yelling at Obama saying, SEE, THIS IS WHY WE SHOULDN’T DRILL IN OUR WATERS! Those are MY people saying that, democrats, liberals, etc. How about instead of yelling about not drilling, we come up with an answer for this global oil-dependence crisis? How about us Americans come up with a way to be less dependent on OIL in general, foreign AND domestic? If oil drilling is so terrible, we need to figure out another way to power our cars – plain and simple.

If anything, I think this spill should serve as a wake-up call that we are destroying our planet with our complacency. We should be encouraging children to study science and math and come up with a way to end our dependence on oil. This is not good enough – it needs to be better. And no one is going to fix it but us.

I used to not even watch TV.

2010-05-26T13:21:00.000-07:00

I'm beginning to wonder if the reason I don't have anything to post is because I'm too busy watching TV to have a life to write about.

To that end, here is my TV/pop culture round-up, just in time for season finale month.

1. Glee - I really do love this show - so much that we went to see them on tour. The live show was GREAT, and I'm still on board, but really you guys? You have Idina and Lea, two of the most beautiful Broadway voices, and you have them sing Poker Face? I liked it, but there are so many other GREAT SONGS out there they could've sung! Sigh.

2. Brothers & Sisters - I was all set to NOT watch this show anymore up until the last 10 minutes of the finale. Damn you, bad-writing-but-good-last-ten-minutes!

3. American Idol - Crystal. (Although I think Lee is dreamy.)

4. Nurse Jackie - ARE YOU WATCHING THIS SHOW?! If the answer is no, you should be ashamed of yourself.

5. Modern Family - Might be the best show on television right now. Eric Stonestreet kills it every week, in a good way.

6. United States of Tara - This show has hit its stride, if you ask me. I like how there are less scenes with the alters this season. It was getting a little annoying and felt like I was in a speech competition. If you were on speech team, you know what I mean.

7. Parenthood - Okay, if Modern Family is the best comedy on television, Parenthood is the best hour-long drama. This show is everything I wanted it to be... although I admit, I'm still left thinking what the show would be if Maura Tierney were on it instead of Lauren Graham. Love Lauren Graham... but it would've been different. Better? I'm not sure. Different. And Mae Whitman is incredible, although I just now realized her name is unfortunately similar to a certain GOP candidate for Governor.

8. Parks and Recreation - I love what they've done with this show in the few seasons it's been on the air. They are knocking it out of the park right now. Andy is my favorite.

9. 30 Rock - This show is not as accessible as Modern Family, but ranks as high in my book comedy-wise. The comedy is arguably smarter on 30 Rock, and I have a huge crush on Tina Fey... although it probably has more to do with wanting to BE her than wanting to... uh... DO her.

10. Friday Night Lights! We don't have DirecTV, so this season that's airing on NBC right now is new to us. We're loving it, although I miss seeing the really good Panther football. I have a feeling it won't be long before East Dillon shows us some good stuff too.

11. LOST - I have been thinking about the finale pretty much non-stop since Sunday night. I have gone from being "meh" about it, to being REALLY ANGRY ABOUT IT, and I'm now sort of moving into respecting it and almost liking it. I could probably write a whole post about just Lost, but suffice it to say that I don't think it was the right ending for the show... that's not say it was bad, but it just didn't seem appropriate. Still - the more I think about it, the more I understand and respect it. Besides, it's so much easier to like something than to develop a negative but informed opinion of it.

Hilarity

2010-03-16T09:48:00.001-07:00

We had a 4.4 earthquake this morning, but the local news in LA acted like it was armageddon, covering the small quake for the entirety of the morning newscast. Robert Kovacik is a local anchor, and while he was interviewing people this morning, my gaydar went off, so I tweeted this:

I was kind of surprised to see this email in my inbox once I got to work:

His auto-follow bot might want to be a little more selective.

Corey Haim, addiction, and facebook

2010-03-11T13:36:00.001-08:00

Hey guys, did you hear Corey Haim died?!

That's my attempt at humor in this post, because the rest of it will not be funny.

I sometimes think I should cancel my facebook account, because so much of what people put on there makes me so angry. Then I talk myself off the ledge and remind myself that I can just block certain people. But facebook has really become a reminder to me of how hateful and ignorant people are, and that's not something I think should be ignored.

Someone I'm friends with on facebook updated their status yesterday with something along the lines of, "Oh boo hoo, Corey Haim overdosed. Come ON, when you do drugs, you die! Get over it!" (I've omitted the horrific spelling errors.) Her point is that people are dying of cancer, people are dying in the war, why are we sad when someone dies of an overdose? Now we're gonna hear about the overdose for weeks and we won't hear anything about any soldiers dying!

A few reminders:

-America is a culture obsessed with celebrity. You can't get around it if you want to live in this country.

-Death is sad. It also serves as a reminder of our own mortality. This is also sad for some people. And that's okay.

-Addiction is a disease. If he was taking enough pills to accidentally overdose, it sounds to me like he was an addict. And the very definition of addiction includes loss of control. I would argue that most people don't choose to become addicts. But once you're an addict, it's pretty difficult to choose to be sober. Yes, it's a disease that started with a choice, a choice to do drugs, and yes, it's a disease over which you can ultimately choose to have control, but that control does not come easily. To say an addict "should die" is insensitive and ignorant, and shows an utter lack of perspective on the world at large.

In the words of the Indigo Girls, "Who are you to speak for God?"

Kindle, you can blame the Scholastic Book Club.

2010-02-19T13:23:00.001-08:00

Some of my favorite days in elementary and middle school were the days the Scholastic Book Club order form came out. I would notice the shrink-wrapped stack of newsprint sitting, without fanfare, on the teacher's desk. I didn't know when the form would make its appearance, but I could guarantee that at some point during that day or week, the teacher would open that packet up and start passing out the four-page leaflet to me and my classmates. This was usually a "put this in your folder and show it to your parents" moment, but I could never help but sneak a glance at all of the books the leaflet had to offer, books I would have never heard about had it not been for this little newsletter. And because it had the word "club" on the front, it felt like I was part of a very exclusive, underground gang of young readers, anxious to gobble up any book available.

The form would eventually wind up in my backpack, and I would feel frustration rise up when I got home and opened my backpack to find the form had become crumpled. Still, I would flatten it out on top of a text book and grab a pen, when pens were cool because we weren't allowed to use them in school, and I would carefully read the description of each book, circling the ones I wanted. Now, about seven times out of ten, my mom would sadly inform me that we couldn't afford to get new books this time, but I still wanted to circle the ones I wanted, as though I were starting my own little book list at 10 years old. But there were those three times out of ten that Scholastic Book Club coincided with my dad getting a paycheck full of overtime, or thanks be to God, it came right around tax-refund time when my mom would buy us steak for dinner. And those times are what I remember more, even though I rarely was able to get every book I wanted. It didn't matter - I got to pick which books I wanted more than other books, and I got to fill out the order form and go to school the next day with a check! for something I wanted.

My tweenager mind would often forget that I had submitted the order, so the day when the books came was an even more magical day, a bigger surprise (and a much bigger disappointment if I was unable to order books that round). I would notice the box of books, and I knew that the teacher would not distribute them until the end of class. This made the class drag on forever, and I would be eyeing the clock on the wall with intensity and fervor, noticing when it was seven minutes from the end of class, five minutes from the end, three minutes... come on, we're not going to have time! Finally, the moment would come, and the teacher would pass out the stacks of books. Usually the books came with a sticker or a bookmark, and always came with another order form, just in case your teacher didn't have the next month's order form, you could order on your own! The books were colorful and cool to the touch, and they smelled new. There was little better to me than the smell of a new book, except maybe the smell of more than one new book.

I would say that this is when my tactile response to books began, but it probably started earlier, with the first book I learned to read, "I Am a Bunny." I can't remember the words exactly to the book, but I remember with clarity my copy of the book, a cardboard copy, worn from use and duct-taped together, with the stickiness of the duct tape finding its way all over the book, not just at the binding. And as I think about it now, it seems like it's consistent for me to remember the way a book looks and feels more than what's actually in the book. I can see clearly the cover of "Island of the Blue Dolphin," "Hatchet," and "Sixth Grade Sleepover," but I can't really remember what those books were about.

This tactile element of reading has never left me, and I like to collect books. I like to actually have them in my possession to re-visit them. I'm not a big library customer. The best part about the internet is that I can order books and order them cheaply. I've embraced all sorts of technology that seems to make life easier and less cluttered - I've done away with all of my jewel cases and have my CDs stored neatly in a CD book - I don't even buy real CDs anymore - bills are paid solely online, and personal mail is non-existent unless it's in my email inbox. I embrace all of this.

When Kindle came out, it seemed like something I'd be all over. 1500 books at the touch of your hand?! YES PLEASE! But the more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder if I lost the element of the physical book, would I really remember that I read the book? Would I remember the time in my life the book corresponds with? Yes, my nightstand would be less cluttered, and I would probably read more, but books to me are more than just things that take up space. They are memories. They are photographs that I want displayed so that I can remember how I've grown and how I've changed. I want to be able to pick them up and leaf through them, to feel the wind as the pages fly past my fingers while I look for the excerpt that I underlined or highlighted, or simply remember reading. And I want my kids (when I have them) to hold all of those books when I'm gone, and to read them and experience them in their own way, in their own time, while my fingerprints and pen marks remain throughout the pages. Immortality with books isn't reserved for authors - it can also include the owners and readers of the books, and I simply feel like I would be missing out on something significant by switching to electronic text solely. I might change my mind someday, but for now, I'll deal with the clutter.

This didn't fit anywhere in the last post, but...

2010-02-12T10:32:00.001-08:00

On the day of my mom's move, she took a carload to the new apartment while we went to get the moving van. After she unloaded all of her stuff, she was standing in the courtyard, looking at the harbor, and a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. It was a hummingbird. While I was growing up, she always kept these hanging flowers on our porch, and they never failed to attract hummingbirds. She was so tickled that she saw the hummingbird, she made a plan right then and there to get a hummingbird bush to plant in front of her place. When she told me this story, I looked up the symbolism of hummingbirds. This was the first thing I saw, from WikiAnswers:

Hummingbirds, called new world birds cause they are native to North America, Central and South America, are considered to be symbols of peace, love and happiness, moreover, ancient pagans held them sacred for their tireless energy and anxiety.
In Native American culture, a hummingbird symbolizes timless joy and the Nectar of Life. It's a symbol for accomplishing that which seems impossible and will teach you how to find the miracle of joyful living from your own life circumstances.

They are really spectacular birds, and have a lot to teach a person about self discovery and healing.

Epic win.

Midwestern Beach Bum

2010-02-11T10:35:00.000-08:00

My grandparents moved to Florida when I was four years old, and I spent many a summer vacationing in Tampa. The primary reason of course was to visit my mother's parents, but I think if they had lived in Maine, we would not have visited as much as we did. My mom has been obsessed with “the beach” for as long as I can remember. Her idea of “going to the beach” is getting up at 7am, packing sandwiches and drinks, and heading to the beach until about 3pm. I’m not sure how the skin-that’s-able-to-tan gene avoided me SO COMPLETELY, but let’s just say that I endured a lot of sunburn and a lot of green aloe vera gel for my mom to feed her beach addiction.

When it came time for us to leave Florida, she would cry the entire day before and for the first half of our first driving day home. I always thought it was because she was leaving her mom, and as an eight-year-old kid, I couldn’t imagine the thought of leaving my mom for a year at a time. As I’ve gotten older, I realize it was more that she was not in love with her life in Ohio. And who can blame her? Have you been to Ohio?

When we weren’t in Florida, we lived in a house that used seashells as decoration. Not only was the bathroom done in a beach theme, but starfish and sand dollars could be found in various parts of the house, as well as cross-stitched beach scenes. My mom was a Midwestern beach bum.

It wasn’t so much my mother’s choice to spend her life in Ohio. When she was 20 years old, she moved to Los Angeles with several of her friends. Her dream was that of almost everyone who moves here that young – she wanted to be a movie star. She spent a rainy six weeks in Culver City, in a small apartment with five other people. From what I’ve heard of this time in her life, she didn’t work or do much other than smoke weed with her pals. What she thought was homesickness turned out to be morning sickness – she found out she had a little Katie kickin’ around in her belly. She ~~didn’t want a bastard of a kid~~ wanted the best for me, so she moved back home to Ohio, married my dad, had me, and began her life of suburban normalcy.

A series of events occurred that led her to move here to Los Angeles a year and a half ago. She moved in with us, and when most people find that out, they exclaim (aghast, incredulously, full of pity), “your mom lives with you?!”, to which I reply, “You don’t understand – my mom is not like other moms.” Translation: “My mom is way cooler than your mom or anyone’s mom you’ve ever met or will ever meet.” My mom is hilarious. She can drink you under the table, beat you at Euchre and pool, but still give you a mom hug – a hug where you know no matter how upset you are, everything will be okay.

It should be noted here that my family does not have money. My mom moved in with us because she left a $8.00 an hour job and a mountain of debt at home. My family has never had a lot of options in anything, but they did a damn good job of never making me or my sisters realize that.

Back to her living with us – the thing is, if we had a bigger place, she could stay with us forever. But we have one thousand square feet, and two bedrooms, with four adults (me, Gina, my sister Jess, and my mom). The idea was always for Mom and Jess to move out eventually. I think Jess got home late one night and my mom realized she couldn’t expect her 23-year-old daughter to follow her rules, and that got the ball rolling on her move. In fact, it happened in about a week’s time – she said she was ready to go, she found a place, and we were moving her in.

My mom has never, ever lived on her own. She’s not even an experienced mover. She grew up in the same house I grew up. She’s never had to find a place of her own. Naturally, I assumed I’d be driving around on Saturdays with her looking for places. So when she told me she found a place and she was thinking of taking it, I was surprised… and a little worried, to be honest. The place is in San Pedro, and San Pedro’s not necessarily known for being Pleasantville. But she said she felt safe in the neighborhood, and at 52 years old, she has a bit of intuition.

When we arrived to her place on Saturday to move her in, the first thing I noticed was that the outside of the building looked kind of run-down. Upon closer inspection, it just needs a coat of paint and some landscaping. Her apartment is small, but completely appropriate for her, with fresh paint, new appliances, and new carpeting. It’s a courtyard style apartment, and there’s room for her to plant some flowers right outside her door. I felt really good about her being there when the on-site maintenance guy helped us move most of her big stuff in. Once we got everything moved in, we were eating pizza when there was a knock at her door. A 60-something woman stood there with cupcakes – she wanted to welcome my mom, and she told us she’d lived there for 35 years and raised her son there, and she just loved the place, and if my mom ever needed anything, she should feel free to ask. I’ve lived in seven different apartment buildings in LA, and no one has EVER knocked on my door to even say hello after I’ve moved in.

I’ve always adored my mom. I’ve never had a bad relationship with her. But I’ve also never really felt the pride I felt on Saturday when we moved her in to a place she found on her own, a place that she really liked, and a place for which she will be solely held financially responsible. A tiny little apartment she can call her own, with a view of the San Pedro Harbor, and just a five-minute walk from the beach.

Friday's roundup

2010-01-29T15:51:00.000-08:00

This is what's been on my radar this week.

1. Apple's iPad - Boy howdy, was twitter in a tizzy about the impending announcement. It was like Christmas for geeks. I admit, I was pretty excited as well. I kept hearing it was going to revolutionize the way we do things. I wasn't sure how that was possible, but darn it, I wanted to find out.

Cut to: crickets chirping after Apple conference. No multi-tasking, and it runs on AT&T?! FAIL.

Gina's response: "So it doesn't make phone calls? So it's EXACTLY like the iPhone." Yes, we are some disgruntled AT&T customers. Just think how bad it will be when all the iPads start running on the same damn network. WTF?

Here are some iPad findings I enjoyed this week:

Smosh is unimpressed.

Kindle ain't scurred

iPass

2. President Obama's State of the Union - It's so refreshing to watch this speech and think I'm hearing from someone who knows what he's talking about. I trust Obama. Someone asked me recently if this was the change I could believe in. Things haven't gone as smoothly as I would have hoped, but I am overall happy with President Obama's first year. The democratic party, on the other hand, could use some organization and passion.

Here's the full text of the SOTU.

3. Oooh, President Obama SCHOOLED the Republicans. I bet he felt like their daddy. You gotta see this. Snap, yo!

4. In Obama's SOTU, he promised to repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell. I'm always dismayed when I remember that this is something that came out of President Clinton's administration. But I just learned that President Clinton didn't WANT this enacted; rather it was a compromise for Republicans who didn't want the gays serving in the military. As if I needed MORE REASON to dislike the GOP.

5. Goodbite.com teamed with Quaker to help end childhood hunger. Have you Created Your Day? Go to goodbite.com/createyourday. It's the easiest and cheapest (free!) way to donate money to a worthwhile cause. My good friends Angelo and Kim both participated in this promotion. They are awesome. And you will be too, once you create a bowl of oatmeal, thereby making a donation to Share Our Strength.

What I'm looking forward to next week:

It's going to be another whopper of a Tuesday. Secretary Gates is slated to make a major announcement on DADT. Also, THIS premieres.

Have a great weekend!

Perspective

2010-01-26T14:48:00.000-08:00

I guess I am in the 1%!!..........Shame on you America: the only country where we have homeless without shelter, children going to bed without eating, elderly going without needed meds, and mentally ill without treatment - yet we have a benefit for the people of Haiti on 12 TV stations. 99% of people won't have the guts to copy and repost this.

This appeared as one of my friends’ status updates on Facebook yesterday. It infuriated me so much that I had to respond to this person. A few other people joined the discussion, and it made me realize how quickly ignorance can spread in this day and age. Here are some things that people have actually said in relation to this status update:

1. I don’t remember any telethons happening when 9/11 happened!
2. Our economy sucks! My partner has been out of work and we’re about to lose our house! Why should our government go into more debt to help out people that don’t even LIVE in our country?
3. There are too many problems in our own country, why send money to another country?! We should be helping our citizens first!
4. Why are we donating to Haiti? No one comes in and donates when WE have natural disasters!

Usually, I can ignore stuff like this, but this is making me so upset, and I can’t fully respond on facebook, so I’m going to do it in my own space. I want to respond to each of these statements. (If you were willing to make them, you’re willing to hear a response to them.)

1. There WAS a telethon after 9/11. It raised $30 million to go to families of firefighters.

2. Yes, our economy is in the toilet. Things are bad. But you can’t look yourself in the mirror and honestly compare you losing your home or your job to between 150,000 and 200,000 people DYING in an instant in a 3rd world country. Get some perspective, people.

3. Yes, we have a lot of problems. And we also have a lot of help. My wife is a social worker and my sister is a drug addict – I know for a fact there is plenty of help out there for people who want it. You don’t have a place to stay or a warm meal? Go to a shelter or a soup kitchen. At a shelter, you might have to stay clean (no drugs) and be in bed by 10pm, but hey, that’s the rule. People who don’t truly know homeless people don’t realize that almost all of them are homeless BY CHOICE, or they are mentally ill. There are places to go but they refuse to go, whether it’s out of pride, or a drug addiction or whatever. There are SO MANY programs to help people. Have trouble feeding your kids? Try WIC, a program that will deliver essentials to you if you have young kids (milk, OJ, cereal). Have a drug addiction and you want to get clean? There are THOUSANDS of low to no-cost rehabs you can get into. The healthcare crisis is a very real one, but to change that, we need a Congress who can actually get things done, and we don’t have that right now. And now that the MA voters voted in a Republican who is not determined to fight for the betterment of his people but rather determined to see Obama fail, it’s gone from bad to worse.

4. This is the worst one. Why are we donating to Haiti? No one donates to us. I can’t BELIEVE people would put that in print. Again, perspective. I researched some recent American disasters.

We lost about 3,000 lives on September 11. How much money other countries donated is a moot point: dozens of countries sent men and women to DIE in the war in Afghanistan, the war we started in response to 9/11. Also, we had nearly world-wide support after that tragedy, a global solidarity that the world would not stand for terrorism.
Hurricanes Ivan, Frances, Charley, and Rita combined took 316 lives. Combined cost: $43 billion. This earthquake in Haiti took between 150,000 and 200,000 lives. That’s almost a quarter of a million people that DIED, and died in rubble, rubble that needs cleaned up in a country where there are literally NO government services anymore. How many moms and dads is that? Moms and dads who cared for their children before and now can’t? Are these children the people you think we shouldn’t help? The earthquake turned the biggest city in that country into a refugee camp with no clean water or food, and no doctors. You know what happens when you don’t have clean water? You survived the earthquake, but guess what, now you have a severe bacterial infection, not to mention the stench of death in the humid climate you live in.
Hurricane Katrina, arguably the worst NATURAL disaster (not terrorism) in recent history in America. We lost 1836 people in that hurricane. It cost $84 billion dollars. I’ve heard people say, “No one came to our help during Katrina!” Perhaps you think that because of the sluggish response by the Bush administration. The reality is, 99 countries donated food, money, and supplies to us during Katrina. That’s a whole lot more than “no one.”
Station Fire – 2009 – Los Angeles, CA – How many people died in that fire? Two. Two firefighters. Tragic, indeed. Definitely. That fire destroyed 89 residences, 26 commercial properties, 94 outbuildings. It was terrible. I live in LA – we could see and smell smoke for nearly a month. Again, nowhere NEAR the devastation caused by this earthquake. Also? We have in place organizations that help us when things like this happen – FEMA, for one, and we have insurance. What does Haiti have? By the way – the Station Fire was not a natural disaster – it was arson.

Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere. America’s gross domestic product per capita is $45,800. Haiti’s gross domestic product per capita is $1300. Most people there live on $1-$2 a day. Could you even get through your MORNING on $1 or $2? Not if you include the cost of your commute to work you couldn’t. Haiti has a corrupt government and has been suffering with extensive poverty. Those people had NOTHING, and now they have even less. It is a humanitarian crisis, and it will be so for months to come. Haiti is also our neighbor. Stable, healthy countries make for good neighbors – unstable countries do not (see Middle East).

What makes America the greatest country on earth is that we are able to commit to helping combat crises just like the one in Haiti. We help them because we can. Is it ideal for our government to donate $100 million to Haiti relief when we have an economic crisis on our hands? Of course not. But nothing about the disaster in Haiti is ideal, and sometimes you have to do what’s best for the population at large as opposed to what’s best for YOU. And if we don’t help others, who will help US when we need it?

I encourage all of my friends, Facebook or otherwise, to have some perspective, and thank God that you are lucky enough to live in one of the greatest (and wealthiest) countries on earth.

2000-2010

2010-01-12T12:09:00.001-08:00

Right around December 20th, I realized that ringing in the New Year meant ringing in a whole new decade. I’m sure a lot of people put a lot of thought into that fact, but it was lost on me until very late into 2009. And I was kind of unimpressed with the thought of a whole new decade.

And then I started thinking about all the stuff that’s happened over the past ten years, and I realized that it was definitely a decade worth celebrating. It had some really crappy moments, a lot of which took place this past year, but it was overwhelmingly incredible.

I kicked off the decade with some major realizations about my sexuality. In six months time, I graduated college, moved to Los Angeles, bought a new car, and came out. Things sort of slowed down a bit after that, but in the decade I also: got my first TV job, reconnected with gina, developed an interest in news and politics where before there was NONE, met some amazing people who would later become some of my closest friends, re-evaluated my view of marriage thanks to the MILLIONS of friends who got married during the decade, moved in with gina, traveled the world (and the country), bought another car, bought a condo, got engaged, had the right to marry and then lost it, got domestically partnered, became a mommy to two pooches, had some kickass birthday parties, turned 30, voted for an African American for President, learned how to play black jack, both exceeded and failed at playing black jack on many occasions...

This decade was the decade I learned to love coffee, wine, beer, bloody marys, dirty martinis, gin and tonics, jack and cokes, rum and cokes, and Mexican food.

I learned a lot, laughed a lot, cried a lot, drove a lot, I met a ton of people, and I fell in love.

All in all, it was a killer decade, and I look forward to every minute of the next ten years.

Impending Christmas

2009-12-09T11:53:00.000-08:00

I know it's been just about three months since I've posted, but I was just linked and I feel like I need to have something new on here for people to see if they happen to stumble here.

I spent most of the past three months unemployed, which was great at first but quickly became rather annoying if not panic-inducing. I just started a fantastic new job about a month ago, which I may or may not post more about in the future. In some ways, it's very different than anything I've done before - in other ways, it's very similar. Stay tuned.

What's really on my mind lately is Christmas. I had a difficult time getting into the spirit last year, what with my heroin-addicted sister AWOL from her first rehab. It was hard to hear Christmas songs. It was difficult to watch all of the Christmas specials. Everything reminded me of the gaping hole she left in my heart. She resurfaced last year on Christmas eve... only to disappear again six days later.

My life changed drastically when she decided to disappear from rehab. My mom moved to Los Angeles (in with us) and my other sister soon moved too. We have quite a full tiny condo. Most of this year, my family was left not knowing where Jackie was. No one had called us to tell us she was dead, so that was the only good sign we had that she was okay. When we finally tracked her down in August, we had high hopes for her newest rehab. She also had high hopes. I'm sure you can tell how the story ends - she left not quite 30 days after she got there.

So once again, she's gone. Once again, a holiday season is upon us and my family is not whole. But this year, I'm prepared for this. When you love an addict, you have to be prepared for really shitty stuff. I'm grateful that I got to spend the better part of a month this year hanging out with her, reminding her how much I love her, letting her know how much I want her to get better and I want her in my life. I have learned that my life is very full and fantastic, and this is one shadowy part in an existence that is truly blessed. I have to believe that she will get better some day, that she will find her way. In the meantime, I have learned to celebrate the good things in my life, and because there are so many of them, I'm embracing the Christmas season with everything I've got. In fact, I feel like I'm already sad that the tree has to come down soon (New Year's Day).

So happy holidays, y'all! Be thankful and safe, and have fun.

Through the ice.

2009-09-14T11:45:00.000-07:00

“Maybe I’m too young to keep good love from going wrong…”

This is a lyric from a Jeff Buckley song called “Lover You Should Have Come Over.” It doesn’t seem like that long ago that this line in this song drove through my heart like a stake. Early in my relationship with Gina, I found myself looking at other couples and wondering what their secret was, why it seemed so easy for them. Gina and I have come through a lot to get where we are, and there was a time where I think we both wondered if we could make “us” work. For me, there always seemed to be something bigger at work in our journey, something that was both the destination and the guide, something that made it okay that it wasn’t always easy. I have likened the feeling to being trapped under a very thin sheet of ice without the proper tools to break through the ice. We tried and tried to break through, with no luck, but I knew if we kept trying long enough, we’d get through the ice and be able to gulp the sweet, crisp, fresh air that was waiting on the other side. And we were both willing to keep trying.

It’s safe to say there was a time where it was pockets of brilliance amongst a lot of mediocrity. Never horrible, but rarely blissful. We both understood one thing: we could not understand each other. We talked a lot (hazard of lesbian relationships – women LOVE to talk), but we would both wind up frustrated and confused. About two years ago, we both admitted it wasn’t exactly what we had in mind when we pictured “happily ever after,” and that we both deserved better. Now, I feel like this is the part where a lot of couples would break up. But we didn’t want to break up. We were already in love, and we weren’t angry at each other. So we made a mutual decision to work towards something better.

For me, I stopped questioning everything and started listening. I listened to what she said and what she didn’t say. I listened to myself, to what I said and what I didn’t say. I tried to talk less and listen more. I tried to leave all of the crappy stuff in the past and look at her as she stood in the moment, unattached to anything before. I didn’t pay attention to who she had been or who I had been, but rather who we presently were and where we wanted to be. And none of this represented a change to my foundation – instead, it was a needed maturation. And all of it, all of the work, was a hell of a lot easier than wading through the misunderstandings of before.

It didn’t take long for us to smash through the ice. And now? Now it’s better than I ever imagined it would be. I get a ridiculous amount of joy from her and her place in my life, and my place in hers. I feel lucky every day. She has become my best friend, and every day seems to be better than the one before.

We recently registered as domestic partners, and of course in this hetero-centric culture we live in, a lot of people have asked about me taking her name. Why did you take her name? Is she Gina Papa Hall now? Why didn’t she take your name? The truth is, I took her name initially for two reasons: 1. I like it, and 2. our children will have that last name and I think it’s important to have the same last name as them. But now that it’s official, I feel like a football player wearing the same jersey as my teammate. Of course I wouldn’t wear a different jersey – how will the world know we’re part of the same team? It’s also a hard-won proclamation – she is mine and I am hers. It took a while, but we finally figured it out, we finally have become one of those couples other couples can look up to, and we think everyone should know it.

Easing back in

2009-08-25T10:58:00.000-07:00

I have so many updates for this space, but to ease everybody back in, mostly myself, here's a quickie for you:

Please don't call it a marriage. That would imply that gina and I are treated the same way married couples are treated, and this is simply not true. Is it a big step? Certainly. Are there certain rights and responsibilities that come with this piece of paper? Definitely. It is still a far cry from marriage, and we are PISSED about that. However, we are proud to announce that we are as married as we can get, and certainly more in love than many married couples out there.

We rock.

-katie j. papa

Thinking about charging them rent...

2009-06-26T10:58:00.000-07:00

I am of the information age. I love to learn and I love to be right. My favorite thing about my iPhone is I can answer almost any question at any time, simply by visiting google. So it’s shocking to me that when little seed-looking things started appearing on our bathroom counter, I didn’t immediately google it to figure out what it was. The problem is, I usually think the simplest explanation is the correct one, so I figured the weird little specks were perhaps flower seeds coming from outside, since they were only landing right under the window.

Gina and I lived happily with this explanation for about two months. The more I started thinking about it, the more I started questioning this answer. We’ve lived in the condo for two years. Why is that all of a sudden, some plant life is depositing seeds into our bathroom? I like to think I’m pretty smart, but it took me TWO MONTHS to decide to close the bathroom window and see if the little specks still appeared on the counter. I closed the bathroom window this past Tuesday before we went to bed. I woke up Wednesday morning and sure enough, there were dozens of little specks on the counter.

Over coffee, sitting in front of the Today Show, I asked google, “What are these weird mysterious specks showing up on my bathroom counter?” Google smugly answered, “termite poop.”

Suddenly, it was code red. It was as if we had been infested with killer bees. Something needed to be done, and fast. I called three exterminator companies and was horrified that no one could come out THAT DAY, RIGHT AWAY, to save me and my family from the horrifying termites. I’ve seen cartoons – I know how termites operate. They come in and 30 seconds later, your house is gone, and your jaw hits the floor, and they wave to you on their way to the next house.

Larry from Accuracy Plus Pest Control came out yesterday morning and said, “Yep, you have dry-wood termites.” He pointed to two small holes in the bathroom wall near the ceiling, holes that looked like tiny specks of dirt. Apparently, the little shitheads poop out of the wall. So the good news is, they haven’t been crawling all over our bathroom counter. The bad news is, there is termite crap all over the place.

“That’s gross,” I said to Larry.

He shrugged. “It’s just wood. That’s all they eat is wood. It’s not toxic or dirty or anything.”

“It’s poop!” I reminded him. I could tell he saw my point.

Now the real fun starts – dealing with the HOA in getting the bastards exterminated. Good news: they will pay for it. Bad news: if I were paying for it, it’d be today. You win some, you lose some, I suppose.

On loving dogs.

2009-04-21T16:57:00.000-07:00

I know you're not supposed to admit who your favorite kid is, but anyone who knows me will tell you I am obsessed with our dog Noodle, and I enjoy our dog Aldo. We waited a long time for Noodle to arrive once we decided we'd keep her. We had talked about getting a dog long before Noodle came, and we paid a pretty penny to fly her and her former mom (my cousin) out here for the drop off. There was a lot of build-up, and we instantly fell in love with her.

Aldo, on the other hand, was rescued from the street, literally, and we didn't think we'd keep him. He was stinky, filthy, and covered in dry, itchy skin. He lived with us for a good two months before we started allowing ourselves to get attached to him. And while he has healthy skin now, he is still stinky, and he is still not 100 percent housebroken. And while I admit freely that I might not feel the same way about him as I do about Noodle, I really do love him. He has turned into such a great dog, a dog that doesn't even need a leash outside!, and I feel like I forget that a lot.

Today, we got him a haircut. For some reason, Noodle always manages to smell delicious, but Aldo is funky. So we've decided to get him groomed a little more often, because he smells so handsome when he's fresh from the groomer. He loves riding in the car, which is a huge relief, because Noodle gets car sick.

Here's Aldo on the way to the groomer, before the haircut.

He was so confused, being at the groomer's without Noodle, but he managed okay - the groomer even finished early, and Aldo got a jaunty bandana!

It costs $47 to get his hair cut, but when he's done, he looks so sparkly white and smells like Christmas morning. As we were waking out of the groomer's today, I was looking at how sweet he is, and I was thinking how he really is such a good boy, and we're so lucky to have him. As my heart was filling up with love for him, he promptly threw himself on his back on the dirty asphalt, and rubbed fervently, scratching the itch I'm sure he'd been waiting to scratch the whole time the groomer had him. He flipped back over and his freshly washed white hair was dark gray and gritty.

I can't help but think this is the universe preparing me for the chance that our first child will be a boy.

Naturally, on 4/20.

2009-04-20T15:37:00.001-07:00

It seems overdone to post about the legalization of marijuana on 4/20. So I’m going to take this one step further and post about the legalization of all drugs.

I haven’t really cared one way or the other about the legalization of marijuana. It has always seemed to me that it should be legal, but I wasn’t one to argue for it because I just didn’t care. It was easy enough for me to get it whenever I wanted (which was never very often), and I was never in danger of “getting caught.”

Lately, however, I have been learning more about the business of marijuana. I heard somewhere that marijuana is a twelve billion dollar industry in California alone. Twelve billion dollars. BILLION. Twelve billion dollars that never gets taxed, that never sees the light of day. That just seems counter-intuitive at its best, stupid at its worst.

While a lot of people, especially in California, would argue for the legalization of marijuana, I wonder how many people would argue for the legalization of all drugs. That’s right – all of them. Heroin, crack, cocaine, meth, whatever. I never thought I would be on board with this, but I’m starting to feel like the anti-drug campaigns of the 1980s and 1990s were less than truthful with me and the rest of my generation about what the dangers of these drugs were. I tried to do some research on the internet about the true dangers of each of these drugs, but it’s all scary propaganda.

Look, I know drugs are bad. I know that. I know meth destroys the part of your brain that allows you to feel. I hate drugs. They are ruining my sister’s life, and thereby doing a number on my life and the life of my family. But I also know that I’m terrified to go to Mexico right now. I also know that all of these drugs are cut with stuff that are in some cases more dangerous than the drug itself. And to be blunt, drug dealers are making a hell of a lot more money than teachers, and that’s not okay by me.

It is all of these things and many more that have made me start to think, why not legalize everything? At least then, government will force regulations on the drugs. Users will know exactly what they are putting into their bloodstream when they snort, shoot, etc. Furthermore, it would seem reasonable that regulated, legal drugs would be safer in general, because they would be REGULATED. And maybe then drug use would be treated more like alcohol abuse or tobacco abuse – as an addiction, and one that you can’t always kick on your own. We would clear out prisons, redirect portions of the police force, and tax an industry that thrives while the rest of the country is suffering. I’m not saying gangs would be eradicated, but the whole landscape of organized crime would change. The Mafia was at its strongest during prohibition. Whoever controlled the liquor controlled the city. Most importantly, we would be able to be honest with future generations about the dangers of these drugs, instead of just scaring them into not using, because the scare tactics? NOT WORKING.

There are many very intelligent people – doctors and scientists – who say that a lot of these drugs are not as dangerous as we are made to believe. Let’s take my sister’s drug of choice: heroin. A normal dosage of heroin will most likely not kill you. Is it bad for you? Of course. Does it put holes in your brain? Boy, does it ever. Will one dose get you addicted? Hells yeah. But it probably won’t kill you. What is MORE dangerous than the actual heroin is the life you lead as a heroin addict. First up – malnutrition. You’re not that hungry when you’re high, so you lose A LOT of weight in an unsafe way, and your body gets little to no nutrients. Because you’re not eating, you will probably get constipated. We all know how fun that is. Secondly, the no-brainer – dirty needles. This is by far the dumbest things heroin addicts do: share needles. This is a surefire way to contract something horrific and die. Third – injecting ANYTHING repeatedly, even if it’s saline, will lead to collapsed veins. Fourth – even the most experienced drug users will overdose, because they are always chasing that first high, which they will OF COURSE never get. Too much of anything will kill you. And lastly, heroin addiction is so powerful, addicts will stop at nothing to score their next high (I’ll leave it to your imagination), and we all know when your inhibition is lowered, you are in much greater danger in general.

I have no idea if legalizing heroin and other drugs would change any of this, or change the manner in which users get high. But I feel confident that it’s a topic worth a lot of discussion, because at this point, in my family and in this country, we suck at this war on drugs thing. I also know that what we are doing now is not working.

Dodgeball

2009-04-01T11:39:00.000-07:00

Gina and I joined a dodgeball league via The Eagle Rock Yacht Club. The E.R.Y.C., as it is known to us insiders, is a social group formed by some cool kids with the intent of finding stuff to do that is cheap and fun, and also to figure out ways to give back to the community. As if this weren't perfect for us already, the dodgeball games and most events take place within a mile of our house.

Dodgeball! It can't be that hard, right? After all, we all played when we were in middle school and it was on of the more fun games they had us play in gym class. You throw a ball, the other person dodges it or catches it, that's it.

Last night was the first game. It wasn't so much of a game as it was a meet-your-new-team and see who sucks and who doesn't. Gina and I? We suck. I don't remember the balls being that difficult to throw accurately. But we had a lot of fun, and drank beer afterward, so no one is complaining.

Well, that's not entirely true. There is the whole issue of our team name. A lot of these people have played before, so the other three teams came with good solid names and one even came in uniform. We seem to be the leftover team, strung together with all of the newer people. And that's okay by me, but the team name that had been chosen for us was Pearl Necklaces. I could probably think of a more offensive team name, a name that would be more alienating for gina and I, but it would be difficult. Gina and I are on the same team, and we were both sort of annoyed that it was going to be Pearl Necklaces, but hey, we were the new guys, who were we to say anything?

I started to realize how male-centric all recreational sports names are. Some friends of mine were on a kickball team named Wonderballz, that had a team handshake mimicking a testicle tickle. I think I heard of another kickball team named Family Jewels. And now Pearl Necklaces. It got me thinking... what is it with guys and their junk? Why is it so funny? And even for straight women, do they really want to be on a team called Pearl Necklaces? I can only imagine what the uniform would be. *shudder*

We didn't complain, but apparently some people did, because an email went around today asking for new team name suggestions. I wanted to be really sarcastic and try to think of stuff that would be alienating or gross to guys. I came up with Cervical Mucous. Sadly, girls just are not as gross as guys when it comes to their junk. I didn't share my suggestion, but instead shared suggestions that everyone could enjoy:

awesomesauce
scarlet letter
sex on fire
widowmakers
scaregasm
deuces
hilarity ensues
grammar police

An email just came through with the suggestion "Incrediballs," which I actually kind of like, as long as there is no testicle tickling handshake.

I'll keep you posted.

Testing limits.

2009-03-02T11:54:00.000-08:00

After what has felt like four months of non-stop rain and chilly weather, we finally had a break here in Los Angeles over the weekend. The sun shone and the temperature hovered around 80 degrees. The air smelled great and was crystal clear after all of the rain we've had, and it was one of those weekends that reminds you why you live here. I'm sure people did tons of outdoor activities - walking, hiking, biking, roller blading... I slept.

Bad timing has always been a forte for my body. I couldn't have caught this ass-kicking cold when it was raining inches every day for two weeks. My body had to wait until the sun was shining and spring was springing.

It started with a sore throat and turned into a "breathing optional" sort of event. I've blown my nose more in the last six days than I have probably my entire life. And still, I can't really taste anything. Soup and I have become very close over the last week.

The weekend was not a wash. I refused to let it be. We saw Rent at the Pantages on Friday, with Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal reprising their roles as Mark and Roger respectively. Anthony Rapp is still as spry as ever - Adam Pascal has aged. Overall the show was good, not great, but very enjoyable and we had a lot of fun.

Saturday morning, I went to get a massage courtesy of my unbeatable girlfriend. I did not want to cancel the massage because of my cold because I was SO looking forward to it. But really, I should have canceled it. I do not recommend any situation where you have to lay face down when you have a runny nose. You can paint the picture yourself. After the massage, I napped, hoping to make a miraculous recovery in time for our scheduled happy hour at Fiesta Cantina in West Hollywood. No such luck. Still, I was a trooper and went to happy hour and had a great time, until the very end when I was suddenly and overwhelmingly miserable. Turns out tequila, yelling, and second-hand smoke do not make a good cold remedy. I was in bed by 10pm.

Sunday was another beautiful day that saw me inside for the entirety of it, starting in the morning with what I imagine were delicious chocolate chip pancakes courtesy of gina. I could just taste the chocolate. This was followed by more napping, and then dinner with mom and Jesse and Paul, where I not only was unable to taste my soup and salad, I wasn't even charged for it!

Today, day six, I woke up feeling marginally better, better enough that I can see the light at the end of the Common Cold tunnel. I know now that I won't feel like this for the rest of my life and I will indeed eventually get better. I haven't even needed one tissue yet today. Things are looking up!

Oh, and the rain is back. Seven days worth of rain, to be exact, perfectly coinciding with my recovery. Rad.

Calling bullsh*t on Chuck Taylor

2009-02-17T17:14:00.000-08:00

We are in the middle of a ridiculously rainy season here in Los Angeles. I usually have a rule that prohibits me from wearing my Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers on rainy days, but my outfit today was such that no other pair of shoes really "went," so I threw caution to the rainy wind and wore them today. And all day, my feet have been freezing.

Now, I love the way these shoes look, but I'm starting to realize what a racket Converse has got going on with these shoes. I feel like when I used to buy them as a kid, they were around $20. Now, if you buy them at a regular shoe store, you can't get them for less than $40. Even if you buy them at a discounted shoe store, they're between $30 and $35. Folks, these shoes are NOT comfortable. I mean, they're not uncomfortable, but you can't really wear them to Disneyland, for instance. There is no support anywhere in the entire shoe. The canvas is so incredibly thin, and there are little eyelets in them, so there's very little protection from the elements.

On top of this, once you buy a pair, you need a good two or three weeks to break them in before they are even tolerable. Don't plan on wearing them to the movie theater, where you have to walk from the parking garage to the theater. Don't plan on wearing them anywhere that requires walking.

How in the world are we paying $40 for these shoes? It's insane. We deserve cold, wet, sore feet.

In other news, I totally need another pair.

Things

2009-02-12T14:28:00.001-08:00

New post time, I suppose. After all, it has been WEEKS since my last one. So here are some things on my mind.

1. Update - A few weeks ago, I gave you guys this post, all about my sister, basically. Well, a mere two hours after I published that post, I found out that Jackie left rehab, again, and again I spent a week crying at the the drop of a hat and coming to terms with the situation. So I think I'm back to where I was before she came back the first time - broken-hearted and hopeful. What else can I do? Hope.

2. Kings of Leon - it's been since Death Cab For Cutie's Transatlanticism album that I've been obsessed with a band. I purchased Kings of Leon's latest from iTunes and have listened to it no less than 10 times since Saturday. LOVE IT. Want to see them when they come to the Forum Aug 22.

3. Reproduction - I know an absurd amount of women who are pregnant right now. There are four women at my company who are pregnant and one who just gave birth in December. There is another woman who USED to work at this company who is now pregnant (I just found out the other day). Also, my friend Tiana, who I really only see in July when we all go to Catalina, is also expecting. And of course, Dooce is going to have another little rugrat as well. Now, I am thrilled for all of these great ladies having babies. I LOVE babies! I am so excited to have so many opportunities to play with them! However, I liken this situation to being the last one in your grade to turn 16 - you see everyone else getting their driver's licenses, and you're left to wait until it's your turn. Sure, you're happy for your friends, and you take full advantage of them having driving privileges, but there's a part of you that just wishes it was your turn, too. And suddenly, once you get your license, the six or eight months you had to wait behind everybody else doesn't seem like very long at all.

4. Because I am one of the only women at work who isn't pregnant, I am able to partake in days like this past Sunday, where I went to brunch with a bunch of my good friends at Hamburger Mary's in Long Beach, where they think it's a great idea to charge you a $1.00 for unlimited mimosas. And because none of THIS group of friends is pregnant, pictures like this are not totally socially unacceptable.

5. Travel - I traveled so much for work that when I stopped, I had literally no desire to go anywhere. Tonight I break my 11 month streak of not getting on an airplane. Gina and I are headed to Chicago for Valentine's Day weekend, and also to see a play written by none other than our friend Amy. Pictures to follow, for sure.

And that, my friends, is all I got. (I actually have one more thing, but I'll save it for a separate post. It involves our poodle and separation anxiety on my part.)

Call to service

2009-01-21T14:29:00.001-08:00

In honor of Barack Obama's inauguration yesterday, I think today is as good a day as any to give you some ideas on where you can donate your time/money this month.

DONATE TIME, LOCALLY:
My friend Jamie is volunteering with LA's Homeless Count '09. Every year, this organization counts the city's homeless so that proper funding can be requested for services. This is actually happening next week, so hurry and sign up if you're interested.

DONATE MONEY:
On January 15th, a guy I went to school with lost his wife to melanoma. She was 31 years old. His name is Rich, her name was Rachel. He has a blog chronicling the battle here. It is so incredibly sad to think that someone so young has to go through losing his wife, and also that someone so young had to battle a cancer so violent and viscous. Gina and I were unable to attend the funeral, but we're going to donate to:

University of Pittsburgh Cancer Institute Development Office
UPMC Cancer Pavilion, Suite 1 B
5150 Centre Avenue
Pittsburgh, PA 15232

If you'd rather do a donation online for a more general fund, check out the Melanoma Awareness website, with links on the left side of the page on where to donate.

DONATE TIME, NATIONALLY:
If you want to donate time but can't figure out where to go, check out Volunteer Match. This website will give you listings of places that need volunteers - all you have to do is enter your location and what volunteer opportunities would interest you.

PRIZES!
Starbucks is giving away a free tall cup of coffee if you pledge five hours of community service! Click here for details!!

Lastly, if you have any ideas for the Obama administration on what you want your country to look like, go to WhiteHouse.gov and send President Obama some suggestions.

Peace out.

Some said it was the weekend of dreams… and it was, it really was.

2009-01-20T15:08:00.000-08:00

I wish every weekend could be like this past one. Not only did I have a blast, but I made good on three of my resolutions! Prepare to experience the fun…

Friday night: I went for some after-work drinks and pool at Johnny’s, a bar in my neighborhood I’ve been meaning to check out since we bought our condo. (Resolution: go to more new places in LA – check.) Small with one pool table and a jukebox, this bar is right up my alley. After drinks, my work buddies and I went to a colleague’s house and played poker.

I TOTALLY WOULD HAVE WON, but I started being super risky the closer it got to 9:00 because I had a birthday party to go to. As it stood, I had to leave my chips to Jake’s care before I left, and we lost. Sigh.

After poker, gina, Justine, and I went to The Dresden Room for a birthday party. The trip continued to fulfill my visit-more-new-places resolution. I lived in Hollywood for a long time, very close to this bar, in fact, and never went. It’s kind of a crime – The Dresden Room is a Hollywood standby. I’m glad I finally got a chance to check it out.

Saturday, gina and I went to the Self-Realization Fellowship Center at the top of Mount Washington in LA. A few people had recommended we check this out. We weren’t sure what to expect – we basically walked around and enjoyed the gardens and the view, and I naturally took some pictures. I’m going to research this place a bit more and possibly post a more detailed description.

I also figured out how to use the digital macro feature on my new camera and took some shots of my ring:

After exploring the Center, we went to see The Reader (finally), which fulfilled another resolution: see more movies. The movie was fantastic, and Kate Winslet is quickly becoming an obsession.

After the movie, we went to Hugo’s Tacos in Atwater Village, continuing to fulfill my resolution to try new places in LA. We had never eaten here but had heard good things. The good things were correct. This place rocks.

Sunday, gina had to go to Catalina. While she was gone, I worked on another resolution by going to the gym and getting in a great workout. Sunday evening, we went and saw Frost/Nixon (finally!). Another fantastic movie. The movie theater, a straggler in the Burbank mall, pretty much SUCKED, but the movie was great.

We both had Monday off, and had plans to go hiking in this place we’ve never been. However, Jesse and Paul called and offered us tickets to the Clippers game, another first for both of us! We went, and learned quickly that the Clippers are not very good. But we had a lot of fun and a lot of beer. (Which might have canceled out the gym visit I made that morning, but whatever.)

And when the weekend was over, it was somehow okay that we had to go back to work today. Maybe the trick to getting the most out of my weekend is to actually DO stuff, and then it won’t be so bad that I have to go back to work, because at least I made the most of my weekend. And to top it off, Barack Obama became President today! Boy howdy.

On track to a better '09.

2009-01-13T18:22:00.000-08:00

Remember five days ago when I posted this entry about my resolutions for 2009? Well, less than 24 hours later, I broke number resolution number 3 by plopping down just under $1000 for a weekend trip to Chicago for gina and I. I broke the resolution without even remembering I had made it! Comical, really.

The good news is, I'm keeping resolution number 5, to travel a little more, to get back into those fee-friendly skies. We're headed to Chicago to see a play written by my lovely and talented friend Amy. We also haven't been anywhere together that isn't Vegas in a year or so, so thousand bucks be damned, I'm EXCITED. And who can put a price on that?

Discount

2009-01-11T10:37:00.000-08:00

My friend Justine and I went to see a movie called "I've Loved You So Long" last night at a Laemmle's in Beverly Hills. On our way there, I was sharing with her a few things I've noticed about myself that I've attributed to aging - dark circles under my eyes, ridiculously dry skin on my hands, and the like. Justine, who is two years my junior, informed me she hasn't noticed anything in the way of aging. Good for her.

When we got to the movie theater, the following conversation took place:

Me to teller: One for 'I've Loved You So Long.'

Teller: One adult?

Me: Yes. (to Justine) What, does she think I'm a kid?

Justine: No, she probably was double checking that you weren't a senior.

Me: Well played, my friend.

2009: Obligatory Resolution Post

2009-01-09T19:07:00.000-08:00

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what sort of resolutions I want to put into cyberspace, what sort of things I want to change that I’m willing to be held accountable for by my friends. While I hate New Year’s Eve more and more every year, my pleasure for New Year’s Day seems to increase exponentially. There is something to be said for the notion that you have a whole year in front of you, and that little number change on my calendar definitely sets my wheels a-turnin’.

I feel like I have a lot of resolutions this year, because as I get older, I realize more and more exactly who I am and who I want to be, and as I go through life, I pick up bits of information here and there on how to turn myself into that person. So here is a long list of goals I’m setting for myself this year – resolutions, if you will.

1. Health – At the end of 2008, I lost a small amount of weight that was enough to win $50 in a health challenge at work. I liked it and want to continue to work on that. I’m eating more fruit and less crap. I’m exercising more and drinking more water. I’m fitting into clothes again. This is good and saves me money.

2. Donate – Time, money, and my hair, eventually. I will keep you posted on where I’m donating – maybe you will donate, too. (It doesn’t have to be your hair.)

3. Finances – I HAVE to save more money. I will start by attempting to NOT make any huge purchases in the near future. This will be harder than anything on this list.

4. Friends – I want to see my friends more, and talk to them more frequently. I want to know about their lives. I hate talking on the phone, but I also hate being so disconnected from the people I care about. So this year, I will make more attempts to reach out to my friends. I also plan to foster new friendships, if I can just quit being annoyed by everybody.

5. Travel – I have not traveled since March of 2008. It has been great, being in Los Angeles, but I’m ready to get out now. I want to visit Ohio, Chicago, possibly NYC, and maybe, just maybe, Italy. I will crabwalk backwards to Columbus for the USC v OSU game if I have to.

6. Los Angeles – Even though I’ve spent the last 10 months here and nowhere else, I haven’t done anything. I was so excited to be home after having been on the road for so long that I don’t explore anymore. This year, I want to visit places in LA I’ve never been, or have only been once. A post with a list of those places will follow.

7. Write – This will always be a resolution of mine, because no matter how much I write, I don’t know that it will ever be enough. I took a short story class at UCLA this past fall and feel like it helped me get back into the habit of wanting to write, and it sort of got me back into the habit of actually writing, if for no other reason than to earn back the $500 I spent on the class. I want to ride on this wind and write more, and also diversify what I write. I’m toying with a novel idea, but I’m also toying with taking a nap, so we’ll see which one wins out.

8. Books/Movies – I read a lot of books, and I see a lot of movies, but I have realized recently that if I am ever to read all of the books I want to read and see all of the movies I want to see, I need to be engaging myself in these activities much more frequently.

9. Love – Most important on my list is to love more. I want to erase negativity, although I’m not sure how to do that and still maintain my signature sarcasm. Maybe THIS will be the hardest resolution on the list. In any case, I want to take more opportunities to tell the people that I love that I love them, and also show them that I love them. I want to quit taking these people for granted. And when you send love out into the world, it comes back to you. I’m not even being sarcastic here! It even reads weird, right? Man, this love thing is for chumps.

10. Sleep – I’d like to sleep more and be awake less. I love sleep. Sleep and me are like this. I realize that with all of the other resolutions on the list, plus my full- time job, this will be nearly impossible, but my mom always told me I could do anything I put my mind to. And sleep is one area where I never procrastinate.

My goal is to keep you posted on the progress of all of these resolutions throughout the year, but first, I have to work on resolution #10.

Quote - "Winesburg, Ohio."

2009-01-08T15:34:00.000-08:00

When he began to weep she held him more and more tightly. On and on went her voice. It was not harsh or shrill as when she talked to her husband but was like rain falling on trees.
-Sherwood Anderson, "Winesburg, Ohio"

Decidedly not funny, but pretty informative.

2009-01-07T11:42:00.000-08:00

2008 was one for the books, folks. I have been noticeably absent from this blog for the past year, and feel like I owe whatever readers are left some sort of explanation.

The nutshell is as follows: End of 2007, it seemed my youngest sister Jackie had gotten herself into some sort of troubling habits. I won’t go into detail as to how we figured this out, but I was convinced all she needed was away from her friends in Ohio, so when she asked if she could come stay with me and gina for an indefinite amount of time, I happily bought her a one way ticket. Right before she arrived in Los Angeles, it came to light that the “troubling habit” was an addiction to heroin. You read right, folks. Heroin.

Back in those days, one year ago this month, I had no idea what to expect having a heroin addict live with us. In fact, I didn’t really admit to myself that she was an addict, even though the logical part of my brain reminded me that people don’t really use heroin recreationally. Jackie arrived here, was sick for a few days, but once she started to feel better, things were good. She got a great job, and was very proud of herself. We were all very proud of her as well. She felt good about working and earning money and living a good life.

As addicts are prone to do, she relapsed. This was disappointing and at first shocking to me, but upon further reflection, I realized this is an issue she will deal with every day for the rest of her life, and all I hope for her is that she will come to me for help and that I will be able to help her in whatever way possible. Disappointment and anger turned into pride and hopefulness when she checked herself into a rehab about 45 miles away. I knew it would be hard for her, and was so incredibly proud of her for taking this step to better herself. I missed her every day, but was so grateful there were people taking care of her and looking out for her, people who actually knew how to help her.

She was slated to be there for 90 days, but about 30 days in, she left without notifying anyone. We found out about two weeks before Thanksgiving that she was not there anymore. It’s never a good time to go missing, but right before the holidays is the worst time ever. I had booked my mom a flight to LA to spend Thanksgiving with us back in August. When Jackie disappeared, my mom decided she would stay in LA indefinitely, find a job, and try to find Jackie. It was not easy when my mom arrived, as you can imagine. I feel like I have a unique relationship with both of my sisters because they are so much younger than me, and that at times, I feel more like a mom than a sister, but when my mom got here, I realized that I am nowhere near a mother to them, and that the pain my mom felt in losing Jackie infinitely outweighed anything that I might have felt. My mother was devastated. She cried every day, and every day she just waited for her phone to ring. That’s all we could do was wait. Thanksgiving came and went and we didn’t hear from her. The weather got colder, I knew her money was running out… she had no cell phone with her and did not seem to be checking email. There was literally nothing we could do but wait, and hope that she was okay, and hope that she would call eventually. Nothing is worse than being so out of control of something that affects your heart and your mind so drastically. It’s like we all had this disease – not just Jackie. We were all hurt by it.

Nothing seemed logical about this, which made it even harder. I never thought she would leave without a trace. She wasn’t really missing, she just didn’t want us to find her. And we all knew that. Still, it seemed like she had been taken from us, and we all had to remind ourselves that she was cutting herself out of our lives, probably because she knew she would hurt us if she were in our lives. She wanted to use, and she knew she couldn’t use with us involved with her, so she did just that. I kept telling myself, if she’s dead, someone will call us. Someone will find us. She must be alive, she must be staying somewhere, someone must be taking care of her. She’ll call eventually. While I waited for her, I used the time to strengthen myself so that I would be ready when she finally did call. We all tried to do this. We all just held on to the idea that she needed to be away from us, and she would call eventually.

Thanksgiving was brutal, not having her there, not hearing from her, but we still managed to have a great day overall – good food, good company. When Christmas music started coming on the radio, and decorations started going up around town, the heartache deepened. I knew the best thing to do was to continue on with Christmas preparations and traditions, but it was not easy – putting the tree up, planning for Christmas dinner. To me, I felt like I was forcing it – fake it ‘til you make it, as the saying goes. It felt like a ticking time bomb – I knew that if she didn’t call by Christmas, she wasn’t going to call for a long time. But eventually, I was making it. I was carrying on, going through the motions, and it was okay. There were moments of crippling sadness, usually on my way home from work when I was alone and thinking, and it was dark outside, and I just wanted to hug her, I just wanted to hear her voice, to hear her laugh. But what was I to do? I just prayed, and put it out into the universe that I wanted her back.

She called on Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve – easily the most emotional day of the year for me. We picked her up, with the intention of getting her into a detox as soon as possible. But wouldn’t you know it, detox intake workers celebrate Christmas just like the rest of us, so there was no one that could take her. She detoxed at our house for what ended up being six days. It was amazing, being able to see her again, to hug her, to know where she was. I knew it wasn’t right to bring her back to our house, because the last thing you want to do for an addict is enable them. But my logic failed me, as it had during the entire year, and it was fucking Christmas Eve and I wanted my baby sister to have some place to sleep where she wasn’t going to wake up and use. After six days of calling about 100 rehab places, we finally found her a spot. Should she choose to stay this time, I think the program will work for her. It’s very structured and full of discipline, and they expect a lot out of their residents. It will be hard for her, but I hope she decides to stay because it will make her life easier sooner.

This is why I haven’t been writing. I didn’t want to share this in this space until now, and without talking about it, it seemed like there wasn’t much else to talk about. The reason I’m writing about it now is because once I did start talking about it, no fewer than five people, only two of which are close friends, shared their own stories about their own connections with addiction. These people reached out to me and were able to relate to my pain, frustration, and hope. They were able to tell me I was doing the right thing. They weren’t able to promise it would be okay, but I didn’t need or even want that. I just wanted someone to remind me I wasn’t the only one who had ever dealt with something like this, and that whatever I had decided to do was the right thing to do. I needed those people to help me continue to relinquish all control over the situation, even though the reality is, I never have been and never will be in a position to control it at all.

Also, I felt like once I was sharing the situation with people, I was able to breathe more easily and I was able to cherish and be grateful for all of the good things in my life. I have also been able to accept my own reality, and I have learned that life is definitely not always what you had planned it to be. It’s still my life, and she is still my sister, and I love her just as much as I did the day she was born. I am sad for her that her life has to be so difficult, but I am also well aware that it is this way because of choices she made – choices I did not make for her or could not have made for her. I hope she finds her way through this, because she really has a bright and brilliant mind, and I believe she has something great to offer the world. And selfishly, I adore her and want her in my life for as long as possible.

I have accepted that this is not just Jackie’s problem to deal with – this is an issue for me too, and I do not have to keep it secret to protect anyone. Conversely, I feel like I need to share it to seek help and support for myself, and maybe even to offer help and support someone else. Above all of this, I have realized that I can’t always work through stuff by myself, and that keeping my feelings, thoughts, concerns, hopes, dreams, and fears so close to myself doesn’t help me at all. I don’t need to guard my hand so carefully – no one is out to get me. Quite the opposite: it has been nothing but an outpouring of support from my closest friends, and I finally understand that there is no shame in needing such support.

So hopefully, having shared this, I have unlocked some reserve of creativity, and now I will be free to post frequently with hilarious stories and funny yarns. 2009 will be a fantastic year if I have any say it, and I’d love to share it with you, if you’ll still have me.

Movie Review: Yes Man.

2008-12-28T11:33:00.000-08:00

I’ll go see almost any movie Jim Carrey makes. He’s one of those actors, for me, that even when the movie’s bad, I enjoy watching him. His latest, “Yes Man,” is not the funniest movie of the year, or of the season, or even the funniest movie I saw last week. But it’s innocuous and light-hearted, and I could even go out on a limb and call it “fun.”

Our hero is Carl Allen (Carrey), a middle-aged stick-in-the-mud who works were any middle-aged stick-in-the-mud would work these days: in a bank as a loan officer. People come to him with all sorts of bizarre small-business schemes, which he then has to deny, which sets up where our guy is now: he’s a pro at saying no. But we also meet his friends, Peter (Bradley Cooper) and Rooney (Danny Masterson) and learn that Carl is always turning them down, ignoring their repeated phone calls and requests to “hang out.”

The catalyst of the movie happens when Carl runs into an old friend named Nick (John Michael Higgins). Nick convinces Carl to go to a “Yes” seminar, headed by Terrence Bundley (Terence Stamp). It’s there that Carl sees the error of his ways, and makes a decision to say yes to everything from here on out. And now, the ball is rolling. All sorts of mildly humorous things happen, including a visit to a bar where the band “Munchausen By Proxy,” (bizarre, experimental, psychedelic) is playing a gig, and where we meet our leading lady, Allison (Zooey Deschanel), who happens to be the lead singer of the band. Carl and Allison meet, things happen, and so goes the movie.

Of course, every odd situation must fix itself, thereby this whole saying-yes-to-everything can’t last, and in perhaps the weirdest and weakest part of the movie, Carl gets caught up in the Yes Man scheme and things come crashing down around him, but look! He’s so much better for the experience and by golly, he has learned something.

The script was passable and funny at parts, although I have to say with anyone other than Carrey at the helm, the movie would have been pretty bad. Deschanel was great, as usual. My favorite character was probably Norman, Carl’s manager at the bank, played by Rhys Darby. Think Ricky Gervais in the British version of “The Office.” Most surprising in the movie was Molly Simms, who I remember from some show on MTV where she was very much a deer in headlights. In “Yes Man,” she plays Carl’s ex-wife, and she’s not that bad. I was shocked.

This movie was not smart, not thought-provoking, and will not go down as a “great” comedy. It was a light-hearted chance at escape, and I’m all for that every once in a while. It’s not one to rush out and go see, but if you see it on HBO in several months, it’s worth a TiVo.

On community service.

2008-11-17T15:36:00.000-08:00

One of the things I like about Barack Obama is that he plans to encourage Americans to engage in service to the country. And to him, service to the country is more than enlisting in the military: he wants us all to take an active interest in our fellow Americans. He wants us to volunteer our time and money to help make America a better place. I could drink this kool-aid all day long if it's going to inspire me to volunteer.

My first order of business in this quest to be an Awesome American was to quit ignoring phone calls from the Red Cross. They've been calling me about four times every Sunday, trying to get me to donate. I sort of stopped ignoring them: I hate talking on the phone, so instead, I made an appointment online to donate blood today. How rad am I?

On my lunch break, I followed the directions to the elementary school where I was to donate. Once there, they asked me one million questions, but the one that I will remember was this: "You have A- blood, so you qualify for this special kind of blood donation. It will take about 10 minutes longer, but the needle is smaller so it should hurt less. Also, we will get more usable blood out of you and give you back the stuff we don't need." I responded, "Will it hurt more?" He said, "No, it should hurt less."

He lied.

It took me over 45 minutes to donate whatever it is they needed, and it HURT almost the entire time. When the machine was drawing the blood out of me, I could feel the needle tug at my arm. RAD. The woman who had inserted the needle finally said, "Maybe you're not resting your arm right." I spit at her. (Not really.) When she FINALLY took the needle out, she said, "Now it might be sore for a little while because it's been in there so long." Me: "YOU THINK??"

So maybe community service isn't all it's cracked up to be. I haven't given up on the blood donation (yet), but I know the next time I do it, they're only getting the normal supply from me - none of this machine-operated-platelet-return-we-only-take-your-red-blood-cells crap. And luckily, I got them off my backs for another four months.

Maybe I'll get a tattoo between now and then.

Today's quote.

2008-11-16T11:53:00.001-08:00

"All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression."

- Thomas Jefferson

You have to be better than.

2008-11-11T14:54:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, gina and I went to Silverlake to march in the protest/rally against proposition 8. I wanted it to be inspiring. I wanted to feel like we were really making a difference. I wanted to feel like it would change something.

When we got there, I was emotional at the sight of so many people coming together for one cause. Then I looked more closely and realized they weren't all coming together for one cause. There is so much justified anger directed at so many different places, it's hard to tell what we're trying to do. I saw a lot of signs aimed at the Mormon church: "Tax the Mormons!" or "Keep Mor(m)ons out of my politics!" Worse yet, I saw signs attacking other gays: "I heart the people who volunteered BEFORE we lost!" or "We needed you a week ago! Where were you?" None of the signs fully illustrated my frustration with the gay community more than this one: "I deserve the right to cum in peace."

Listen up, homos: nothing is going to change until we figure out what it is we want to change, and until we get it through the collective skull of the rest of America that we are not all that different from them. Yes, the Mormons should lose their tax exempt status, but is that going to give us the right to marry? And to those of you who "heart" the people who helped out before we lost, I have news for you: NONE of us did enough. If we had done enough, Prop 8 would have failed. And is now really the time to cause divisions amongst gay people? How will that help?

And to the young lesbian I saw holding the sign about cumming in peace: Do you honestly think you are helping our cause? When people think about "marriage," as in, straight marriage, do they think of sex? NO. They think of love, companionship, and family. No one is disturbing your right to an orgasm. You can f*ck whoever you want, whenever you want, and however you want, thankfully. THAT'S NOT WHAT WE ARE FIGHTING FOR. By holding up a sign like that, you are perpetuating the gay stereotype. It's no wonder people think we are deviant. All they see is b-roll from gay pride parades, with dykes on bikes and guys in assless chaps. (This is not to say that I am not a fan of gay pride parades - I go almost every year. I go because they are crazy fun, and to me, it's like the gay mardi gras. Yeah, we're crazy - this is the time of year we get to let loose!)

I was complaining about this to a friend of mine, and he shared a sentiment that he had picked up, that in order for the minority to be treated as equal, they have to be better than the rest. You will never convince the country that it's normal for men to parade around as drag queens or in assless chaps. And as long as that is the footage news organizations choose to show, America will never get it. What they need to see is how the majority of gay people live. They need to see that what we're after is not crazy gay sex, but a life not unlike theirs, a life in which our children and our partners are offered the same protections as theirs, and our relationship holds the same weight as theirs. And yes, we do get together and celebrate our gayness by waving rainbow flags and wearing fun stuff and getting drunk, but the other 364 days a year, we are just like you. We pay the same taxes, we go to the same gas stations, we vote in the same voting booths, we go to the same churches, we read the same books, we go to the same libraries, we eat at the same restaurants, we watch the same movies, we all pay rent or a mortgage, we shop for the same groceries, and we love the same way.

This is what we have to get across to America. I can't say for sure how we can do this, or how we can make this work, but I just gave you a bunch of examples of how NOT to do this. (Also, maybe we should organize a rally somewhere instead of the place that's second only to WeHo in gay friendliness??)

My frustration with this rally is not to say I think the rallies are pointless. I think it's important to be a part of the movement. I think it's important to show up. But like in any war, it's critical to know exactly what it is you are fighting for. Otherwise, you will most certainly be defeated, and you won't even know it.

The best sign I saw that night was one that read, "If only clever signs cured bigotry..." Whatever it is that we need to do, I know that we need to do it with one voice, together. Anything less will not work.

Suggestions?

More hopeful than frustrated, or You are not going to kill this Barack buzz I've got going on.

2008-11-07T10:38:00.001-08:00

In the late summer of 2004, when our hopes were still high a democrat might take the White House in November, my friend Maggie and I were exchanging emails about politics. Maggie is one smart cat, and in those days I turned to her to explain different things to me. I've always thought she somehow has an "in" with the world at large, that she has her finger on the pulse of history as it happens, and sometimes, she just might be able to tell the future. (She is one of my most favorite friends.)

One of her emails in this exchange said something like: "Did you hear this guy Barack Obama speak at the Democratic National Convention? If not, google him and try to find that speech. That guy's going to be president someday."

I don't need to tell you that I googled him, but what I do want to tell you is at that time, I was only able to find the transcript of his speech. I read it, not having ever seen his face, not having ever heard his voice, and emotion welled up in me. Who the hell is this guy, and how dare he give me so much hope?? I couldn't wait for the day for him to announce he'd be running for president.

When Hillary Clinton announced her candidacy for 2008, I was elated, but one of the first things I remember telling people is, "I hope Barack Obama doesn't run this year, because she will never beat him." It's not that I didn't want Barack Obama to be the president - it's that I sort of wanted Hillary more. However, when I went into the booth on Super Tuesday of this year to pick my democratic candidate, I felt as though I was choosing between an ice cream sundae and a red velvet cupcake. Both choices were so equally appealing to me, I didn't know how I could possibly be asked to choose. After a lot of thought, and a very compelling article in the New Yorker, I chose Hillary.

Admittedly, I also weighed heavily - who would America vote for? A white woman or a black man? I figured it would be the former.

(It should also be noted that around primary season, when John McCain emerged as the Republican frontrunner, and it was still a tossup between Hillary and Barack, I was feeling pretty good about the election overall - I liked John McCain, and I loved the Democratic candidates. Images of an election whose outcome would be great either way danced in my head. Ah, those were the days...)

Needless to say, when Hillary conceded, I jumped on the Obama train without hesitating, and screamed from the proverbial rooftops about how great this young, "inexperienced genius" was and would be for our country.

Right before it was clear Obama would be the candidate, the California Supreme Court, in a majority opinion written by one of its conservative Republican judges, ruled that it was unconstitutional to deny same sex Californians marriage licenses. Suddenly, we had a black man running for president and gay marriage was legal in California! Could life get any better? Were the founders right? Were we really all created equal? Even the blacks and the gays?! I love it here!!

This week has come with a whirlwind of emotions for me. I can't quite describe the feeling inside of me at 8:00 PST, when it was announced that not only did Barack Obama become the 44th President of the United States, but he did so overwhelmingly, with a ridiculously huge margin of the electoral vote. (He could have even done it without Ohio, but Ohio pulled through for us!) I was humbled, inspired, grateful, hopeful. I watched his speech with goosebumps all over me and tears in my eyes. I had this quieting sense that the easy part was over, and now this man had the most important job in the whole world, not only of leading us, but of reclaiming America's place in the world. I clung to his words, and admired him for being cautiously optimistic, not reveling in victory but reminding us of the task at hand. I have always been proud of Americans, but I have not been proud of America for a long time. It felt good to be proud of my country once more. I was even proud of John McCain once again, whose concession speech was arguably the most important speech of his career. That night, it was obviously not lost on me how monumental it was to see a black family take the stage as our First Family, and I was flooded with pride at our continuing ability to come together and celebrate our diversity, and to show our children that anything is possible, and that while we still have a long way to go, we are well on our way to being the country we should be.

Of course, in the days since then, Californians (and the rest of the country, it seems) learned that Proposition 8 passed, by a very narrow margin. I marveled at how we could defeat a proposition that called for limits on abortions for underage girls (I am glad this was defeated, I voted no on it), and we could pass a proposition giving chickens and pigs more room to stretch their legs (again, I voted for this as well), and we could SOUNDLY deliver California for Barack Obama, but we could not defeat a proposition that aimed to write discrimination into our state constitution, something that, to my knowledge, has never been done in the history of California. How did this happen? The Mormon church is partly to blame. The Mormon church, who enjoys tax exempt status, donated 70 percent of the funds to pass this proposition. (The gay community needs to share some of the blame, but I'll save that for another post.)

I am devastated by this. For the first time ever, I am ashamed of California. I am disgusted. I am embarrassed of this state I have come to call home. If you are reading this and you voted "yes" on prop 8, shame on you. You took away my rights as an equal citizen. You have essentially told me I'm not as good as you, that I should be required to follow the same rules as you, pay the same taxes as you, but not have the same benefits as you, not reap the same rewards as you. You have told me with a resounding voice that I am less than you. Well you know what? Fuck you. FUCK YOU. I deserve everything you have, and MORE, because I believe in equality for all. I believe we shouldn't deny law abiding citizens their rights. I believe we were ALL created equal, just like the United States Constitution says, just like the Declaration of Independence says. I am an American. How DARE you try to take away MY rights? This is not over. I am damn SICK of crying over this. I'm sick of feeling like a second-class citizen. I'm done with that. My fury is rising, and you better watch out. You thought we would go away quietly? Nope. Not anymore.

I realize this post is getting really long, but I do have a point to make.

My friend Wendy called me after the election to ask how I was feeling. She asked me about prop 8 - "are you depressed?" The answer is no. I'm not depressed. Barack Obama is good for America. Barack Obama will change not only my life, but my mom's life and my dad's life, and in the near future. While I also think marriage equality is good for America, I believe so in a much more indirect way. And I know we will get there. It took just 40 years from the Civil Rights movement to elect a black president. It was 40 long years, but that's only half a lifetime. We will get there. Marriage equality will be a federal issue some day. In the meantime, I am overwhelmingly excited about our next president, and about the choice America has made. Straight people have already taken so much away from me this week - they're not going to take Barack's victory away from me too.

Yes we can, yes we did, and YES WE WILL.

A reason to like Sarah Palin.

2008-10-29T16:03:00.000-07:00

I have been crafting a long entry in my head about Sarah Palin but haven’t written it because I don’t want to hear any shit from anybody. As you can imagine, I think she’s a tool, literally and figuratively, but I don’t feel the need to go into great depth on her tooldom or inexperience or policy or even her obvious disdain for women. It’s all out there for you to read, and I’m not going to try to convince you about anything.

What I do want to bring up is that today, I found a reason to appreciate Sarah Palin. Of course, it comes with a reason to fear her, but what is giving me hope is this reason to appreciate her. I had in my head that if Obama were to win, Sarah Palin would drift off into obscurity, a la Elizabeth Smart or baby Jessica. Once a pop culture phenom, she would be able to go back to the governorship in Alaska, and continue to carry on as if that embarrassing stint as VP candidate was a bad dream. Perhaps she’d take some civics classes, because God knows she needs them.

Okay, I’m getting off track. I realize that.

John McCain picked Sarah Palin because she is a game-changer. She changed the game, all right. And what I’m finding hope in is that this woman might, just might, actually change the game for the better. Unknowingly, of course.

Here is a quote from a CNN.com article published today:

"A civil war [in the GOP] that is simmering will break out into the open if McCain loses, and the party will have to decide what they want to be in the post-Reagan world," said Gloria Borger, a senior political analyst for CNN.

Decide what they want to be… You know what that means, right? Change. Maybe, just maybe, because of this woman, the Republicans will be forced to really take stock of their ideals, and figure out which ones actually aim to work for the good of the country, and which ones aim to work for the good of the party. Maybe Republicans will get off of the God Train and quit pandering to the extreme Christian right, meanwhile sacrificing the rights of women and, well, ME. Maybe Republicans will go back to basics, and re-examine what it means to be the party of smaller government, and not God’s government. After all, is my God the same as yours?

How great would it be to know that both parties are looking out for me?

This would be great. But what also could happen is that the GOP will see how much Sarah Palin invigorated the base, and they will start going after those folks again for 2012, with Sarah Palin as their presidential candidate. This will lead to a downward spiral, and eventually, even though gays won’t be allowed to be married, Mr. State and Ms. Church will be allowed to, and they will be known as the Church-States. I would prefer not to have them over for dinner, but something tells me I won’t have a choice.

For now, I choose to remain optimistic, because really, what other reasonable choice to I have?

Movie review: Changeling

2008-10-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

Changeling, in case you haven't turned on a television in four months or haven't driven anywhere in Los Angeles in the past two months, is the newest film from Clint Eastwood, starring Angelina Jolie. Clint Eastwood has given us several great movies over the past few years, including Million Dollar Baby and Mystic River. Like both of these movies, Changeling deals with several issues that I don't like to think about: kidnapping, pure evil, capital punishment, police corruption. In its dealing with all of these issues and more, the film left me haunted.

The movie is based on the true story of the kidnapping of nine-year-old Walter Collins in Los Angeles in 1928, and his mother Christine's quest to find him. As you can tell from any preview, Walter is missing for a few months and then a different boy is returned to Christine Collins. Christine protests, tries to tell the police that this is not her son. The LAPD, already suffering from a bad image, insists that this IS her son. So goes the next hour and a half of the movie (TRT: 2:30).

SPOILER ALERT

What we learn as the movie goes on is that it's the Walter Collins kidnapping is only a smaller story in a much bigger story. The bigger story is that of the Wineville Chicken Coop Murders. Once all of this story is interjected, the movie becomes completely unbelievable. It would be at this point in the movie that I would stop my "willing suspension of disbelief" and start scoffing and checking my watch. The only problem is, the story is true. Most of the movie is rooted in actual events, with a few minor changes or additions made (I'm assuming) to further the action and drama. But the bulk of what happens, the really disturbing stuff that happens - it's all true. It all really happened.

Angelina Jolie is, not surprisingly, amazing in this role. Her emotion is raw and appropriate, and only in Christine's rough handling of the man convicted in the Wineville Chicken Coop murders (she slams him against a barred window) did I see more of Angelina than the character. It was hard not to draw comparisons to her character in Girl, Interrupted in some of the psychiatric ward scenes. I'm biased when it comes to Angelina, but I really do think she is arguably one of the best actors today, and this movie continues to prove my theory.

And how much do I love Amy Ryan? She shines in this movie - I can't wait to see more from her.

I think my survival instinct kicked in while I watched this movie, because while I felt bad for Christine, my reaction was not tears, it was more of shocked disbelief. I found myself saying, "I can't believe that," and then I would remind myself, well, it happened, so you might as well believe it. A lot of the times, I would think, THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN!!! and then I would remember - oh yeah, it did. I think this whole tug and pull of my emotions and my knowledge that it was a true story impeded my ability to truly enjoy the film. I really liked it - but it was almost too much for me. The bad guy was too bad, the scenario was too devastating, the mother was too wronged. It's almost as if it's just too horrible to be true. When I left the movie and came home, I didn't have the gift of forgetting as I do when I see a movie not based in fact. To think that this happened, that this was allowed to happen was too much for me to process. It was fascinating but not enjoyable, and maybe I would have liked it better if it were one of those crime shows on extended basic cable. However, while I haven't seen pictures of Christine Collins, I would venture a guess she's not nearly as hot as Angelina.

One more thing - I urge the my friends with children to skip this movie.

Tails from this year. That's right. Tails.

2008-10-21T16:20:00.000-07:00

This year has been probably the most important year of my life to date. I have learned so much about myself and the world I live in. I have had a great year full of things for which I am grateful, but some things have also happened this year that I haven't been too keen to blog about. So I just haven't written, or I've posted political commentary published elsewhere. I figure I have a lot of catching up to do, so I'd like to start with a story I've been meaning to tell for a while.

You might remember a while ago, I posted about the the newest addition to our family. About a month or so after that post, I was walking Noodle and Boy Dog, aka, Uncle Traveling Matt, and a small upper-middle aged woman stopped when she noticed the dogs. Uncle Traveling Matt was particularly interested in this woman, which is weird because he's really not interested in anybody. He jumped up on her and wagged his tail. I pulled him away, apologizing.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked me.

"Uh, what?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Um, sure." Crazy lady alert!

"This used to be my dog," she said, smiling and pointing at Uncle Matt. (Turns out, I can't keep a secret.)

"Really," I said, not as a question, but more as a statement of annoyed disbelief.

"Yes, I had him for four and a half years, and I almost got divorced over this dog because my husband hated him. He peed all over everything and kept running away. So the last time he ran away, I just didn't look for him." I couldn't think of anything to say, so she kept talking. "I don't want him back," she went on (AS IF I WOULD GIVE HIM BACK), "you girls are doing such a good job with him and he's so happy, I can tell. And I know you think I'm a horrible person" (YOU THINK?!) "but I love my dogs more than my own kids. I wanted a dog like that one," she continued, pointing at Noodle, "so I got him, but I couldn't house train him and he kept trying to bite my husband. My husband hated him. I have this white carpet in my house, and he just destroyed it."

I stared at her. "Yeah, we have white carpet too, and he's still not housebroken. Where did he come from?"

"The pound. And I didn't want to take him back to the pound because I thought they'd just put him to sleep, and I just couldn't live with myself if that happened."

Now, here's where I realized only later what I should have said, which was this: SO YOU THOUGHT IT WAS BETTER TO LEAVE HIM ON THE STREETS IN A NEIGHBORHOOD THAT IS LOUSY WITH COYOTES?!?!? Instead, all I could say was, "He was infested with fleas when we found him."

"Yeah, he had fleas when I had him."

I couldn't believe this bitch. "You have to TREAT them for fleas. You have to give them MEDICINE for it."

"Oh, I gave him flea baths and stuff," she said, at a loss as to why those baths didn't work.

"No. You need to give him Frontline or Advantage."

"I've never heard of those." Then, "I thought maybe he needed a friend, so I went and got a labradoodle, Butch. But this little one kept running away."

"What is your name?"

"Maria."

"Well, we called who he is registered to and no one ever returned our calls."

"Yeah, I've changed my number since we licensed him."

"What is HIS name?"

"Aldo. I named him Aldo because it's a combination of my name and my husband's name, Sal."

I stared at her. "I thought you said your name was Maria."

She smiled warmly. "Maria Dolores."

I wanted to wipe that warm smile right off of her stupid face. I could not believe what I was hearing. But sure enough, when I brought him back upstairs and we began calling him Aldo, he lit up like a Christmas tree. Since then, he's been so incredibly happy - no longer withdrawn and shy, no longer afraid, just at peace with us. We really think that he tried to go home to her but she didn't let him back in, because I found him two doors down from where she lives, and she told me he'd been on the street for four months, which by the way were the wettest, coldest four months of the year. Now when I see this woman, I don't even acknowledge her, and if she talks to me, I don't stop and talk to her, I just nod and continue walking. She doesn't deserve to be a part of Aldo's life anymore. She had her chance and she blew it, and we picked up the pieces.

I do feel bad for the other dog, Butch. Every time he sees Aldo, he just sits and stares at him longingly, like, "Hey! We used to be friends! Where did you go? What happened to us?"

Meanwhile, we've added another great dog, albeit perpetually stinky, to our family, and we couldn't be more grateful. I know now that we are his guardian angels.

Blocked.

2008-10-08T00:49:00.000-07:00

In March of this year, my dad called me and told me his friend’s daughter was looking for an internship in television, and asked might my company be interested in her? He told me who the friend was, and he asked me if I knew the daughter and I remembered that I had babysat her when she was a little girl. He told me she was now 20 years old and going to Ohio University, majoring in journalism. I gave my dad my work email and told him to have her email me her resume, and I would pass it on to whoever needed to see it, although I couldn’t make any promises as to the help I would be in her securing an internship. A resume was mailed, and I passed it on. I’m always excited to help a fellow Ohioan.

My memories of babysitting her were pretty foggy, so I myspaced her to see what she looked like nowadays, and to make sure I was thinking of the same kid. My dad had also told me to look her up on You Tube, as she apparently had a few videos up there she took of herself singing and playing the guitar. I never got around to the You Tube portion, but I did see her on myspace, and she actually had pictures posted of when she was little, and sure enough, it was the girl I was thinking of. She had grown into a perfect mix of her mom and dad, with her dad’s small brown eyes and her mom’s angular chin.

She emailed me and thanked me for helping her out in the internship hunt. She also asked for some advice on finding a place to live for the summer, and also informed me that she googled me and found my blog and had enjoyed it. She said it had been her dream to live in LA her whole life and she was thrilled she was going to get the opportunity. (The last I heard, my company had offered her an internship but regretfully had to rescind it because she has a bad back, and being a PA requires a lot of heavy lifting. But luckily, she had found another internship somewhere else in LA and was still able to come out for the summer). She had told me she was looking forward to meeting me. I gave her some advice on living in LA, and told her to let me know when she got here. I ultimately never heard from her, but my dad did tell me she was interning somewhere in Sherman Oaks. I told him that was a good part of town, and he said his friend would be glad to hear that. I assume she finished out the summer internship and headed back to continue school at OU.

My dad called me this past weekend to let me know that she had been taken to the hospital last week complaining of back pains. The doctors gave her an epidural and a shot in one of her shoulders. She had an allergic reaction to either the epidural or the shot, went into cardiac arrest, and slipped into a coma. My dad called me again yesterday to let me know she had died. She was their only child.

I had not thought of this girl in 18 years. I hadn’t seen her, hadn’t heard anything about her. I’m sure her dad came to my college graduation party, and probably even my sisters’ graduation parties, but she never came with him, and he was just another one my dad’s friends. And yet, seeing her pictures on myspace gave me a bit of nostalgia, and wonderment of just how much time had passed, and just how much older we had both become.

I can’t comprehend what this must be like for this family. With the news of this girl’s death, I realized with terrifying clarity that I have no real understanding of death and its finality. I have been incredibly lucky in my life to experience death in a very normal way – grandparents died when I was in middle school and high school. Both of my dad’s brothers died within the past year – one was sick, the other wasn’t. The one that wasn’t sick, it came as a shock, and it was tragic, and I still am in disbelief, but somewhere in my head I told myself this is normal. Uncles will die. This is what happens. But this isn’t supposed to happen. An otherwise healthy 20-year-old girl is not supposed to die in a hospital complaining of back pain. And it’s overwhelming for me to think of it as a reality, that this is something that does happen, and it’s something that did happen.

And even now, this death is on the outer fringe of my world. I have no emotional ties to this girl. The last time I saw her, I was feeding her and changing her diaper and probably reading her a story and putting her to bed. I don’t know anything about her as an adult – how tall she was, what her voice sounded like, if she laughed a lot. I am sad, certainly. I am sad for her parents. I am sad for my father, who is devastated by this, undoubtedly because he too has a 20-year-old daughter. But more than anything else, my mind is consumed with the question, how does someone deal with this? How does this happen, and how do her parents move on? How can we, as humans, possibly be equipped to deal with such a shattering, unending grief?

I don’t know the answer to this, but I know that we are. We are equipped to deal with this. Tragedies like this strike families all the time, and more often than not, they find a way to deal with it. It must be one of those things that you think you can’t possibly have the strength for until it happens to you. Only then does the strength come.

Years ago, I told my friend Donna I felt bad that I had been lucky enough in my life to never experience such a tragedy, and that I felt like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Donna lost her mom when she was still a teenager. Donna said something like, “I don’t think you should feel bad. I think you should just feel grateful. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I am. I am so grateful. My life has certainly not turned out the way I imagined. I have encountered things and dealt with things I never thought I would have to. On a much smaller scale, strength has come to me in waves to deal with the things that have arisen. The ultimate question is, I suppose, is it worth it? It is a trite question with a trite answer. All I can do is try to remember that life indeed is fleeting and fragile, and as long as I keep loving, there will always be love coming back. That makes it worth it.

**UPDATE: I just found out a few things about this situation and I wanted to correct myself. She was actually 22, and I'm gathering that she had fibromyalgia, as her obituary calls for donations to a fibromyalgia institute. No less tragic, but I just wanted to be as accurate as possible.

John McCain and the Lying Game

2008-09-18T11:03:00.000-07:00

Full text by Joe Klein, reported on TIME.com

Politics has always been lousy with blather and chicanery. But there are rules and traditions too. In the early weeks of the general-election campaign, a consensus has grown in the political community — a consensus that ranges from practitioners like Karl Rove to commentators like, well, me — that John McCain has allowed his campaign to slip the normal bounds of political propriety. The situation has gotten so intense that we in the media have slipped our normal rules as well. Usually when a candidate tells something less than the truth, we mince words. We use euphemisms like mendacity and inaccuracy ... or, as the Associated Press put it, "McCain's claims skirt facts." But increasing numbers of otherwise sober observers, even such august institutions as the New York Times editorial board, are calling John McCain a liar. You might well ask, What has McCain done to deserve this? What unwritten rules did he break? Are his transgressions of degree or of kind?

Almost every politician stretches the truth. We journalists try to point out the exaggerations and criticize them, then let the voters decide. When McCain says, for example, that Barack Obama favors a government-run health-care system, he's not telling the truth — Obama wants a market-based system subsidized by the government — but McCain's untruth illuminates a general policy direction, which is sketchy but sort of within the bounds. (Obama's plan would increase government regulation of the drug and insurance industries.) Obama has done this sort of thing too. In July, he accused McCain of supporting the foreign buyout of an American company that could lead to the loss of about 8,000 jobs in Wilmington, Ohio. McCain did support the deal, but the job loss comes many years later and was not anticipated at the time. That, however, is where the moral equivalency between these two campaigns ends.

McCain's lies have ranged from the annoying to the sleazy, and the problem is in both degree and kind. His campaign has been a ceaseless assault on his opponent's character and policies, featuring a consistent—and witting—disdain for the truth. Even after 38 million Americans heard Obama say in his speech at the Democratic National Convention that he was open to offshore oil-drilling and building new nuclear-power plants, McCain flatly said in his acceptance speech that Obama opposed both. Normal political practice would be for McCain to say, "Obama says he's 'open to' offshore drilling, but he's always opposed it. How can we believe him?" This persistence in repeating demonstrably false charges is something new in presidential politics.

Worse than the lies have been the smears. McCain ran a television ad claiming that Obama favored "comprehensive" sex education for kindergartners. (Obama favored a bill that would have warned kindergartners about sexual predators and improper touching.) The accusation that Obama was referring to Sarah Palin when he said McCain's effort to remarket his economic policies was putting "lipstick on a pig" was another clearly misleading attack — an obnoxious attempt to divert attention from Palin's lack of fitness for the job and the recklessness with which McCain chose her. McCain's assault on the "élite media" for spreading rumors about Palin's personal life — actually, the culprits were a few bloggers and the tabloid press — was more of the same. And that gets us close to the real problem here. The McCain camp has decided that its candidate can't win honorably, on the issues, so it has resorted to transparent and phony diversions.

This new strategy emerged during the first week of Obama's overseas trip in late July. McCain had been intending to contrast his alleged foreign policy expertise and toughness with Obama's inexperience and alleged weakness. McCain wanted to "win" the Iraq war and face down the Iranians. But those issues became moot when the Iraqis said they favored Obama's withdrawal plan and the Bush Administration started talking to the Iranians. At that point, McCain committed his original sin — out of pique, I believe — questioning Obama's patriotism, saying the Democrat would rather lose a war than lose an election. Ever since, McCain's campaign has been a series of snide and demeaning ads accompanied by the daily gush of untruths that have now been widely documented and exposed. The strategy is an obvious attempt to camouflage the current unpopularity of his Republican brand, the insubstantiality of his vice-presidential choice, and his agreement on most issues — especially economic matters — with an exceedingly unpopular President.

The good news is that the vile times may be ending. The coming debates will decide this race, and it isn't easy to tell lies when your opponent is standing right next to you. The Wall Street collapse demands a more sober campaign as well. But these dreadful weeks should not be forgotten. John McCain has raised serious questions about whether he has the character to lead the nation. He has defaced his beloved military code of honor. He has run a dirty campaign.

Stay tuned...

2008-09-04T17:51:00.001-07:00

30.

2008-07-10T17:35:00.000-07:00

I moved to LA when I was 21 and started working in television when I was 22. Because of this, I hung around a lot of people who were five to ten years older than me, and who balked when I revealed my age. "You're a baby!" I also had a group of friends who were upwards of ten years my senior, so I was always the youngest. It was a new phenomenon for me, growing up the oldest, but I was okay with it.

I even bought into this idea that I was this young pup with so much time ahead of me. Right around my 27th birthday, I started to feel like I had been in my 20s for longer than most people. I started to feel that I had been young for too long. I've come to the realization that a few things have helped foster this notion over the years:

1. YOU'RE HOW OLD??: When I would meet people for the first time, they would not believe me that I was 27. They insisted I could not be older than 23.

2. YOU'RE HOW OLD?? Part 2: Older, or rather, better friends of mine couldn't believe I wasn't 30 yet. My birthday came that year, and I remember a couple of people asking me, "So, how old are you going to be this year?" "27." "SERIOUSLY? You're not 30 yet?" This exclamation was so rampant that I labeled my evite to my last birthday, "Still not 30!"

3. WHO ARE YOU AGAIN?, followed by YOU'RE HOW OLD??? Part 3: Family members began to confuse me for my younger sister Jackie, who is ten years younger than me. Yes, there is quite a resemblance, and yes, I do look younger than I am and Jackie looks older than she is, but ten years? Countless strangers have asked us if were were twins, and when when informed we're ten years apart, they are shocked.

4. OUT OF SIGHT: Truth be told, I left Ohio as soon as I graduated college and every time I go back, it seems like not much has changed. I still see the same people doing the same things. And even people that are doing different things, they're still the same friends I had when I was in high school (for this, I am truly blessed). And I work with one of my best friends from high school. So not only do I feel young when I go back home, I feel like I'm 14 every single day when hanging out with Patrick. With Patrick, I can only tell I'm older because HE looks older. But we still talk about people from high school, we still talk about marching band, we still reminisce about those days.

When 2008 hit, I noted casually that this would be The Year. The Year I Turn Thirty. But I still had so much time, and so many things were happening in my personal and professional life, I had very little time to think about it, and furthermore, I didn't think it really deserved much thought. Besides, who cares? I bought a condo in Los Angeles at 28, I had been to Sydney, Amsterdam, Budapest, Roatan, and Curacao all in one year, I was in a happy relationship, I had amazing friends, and I had good credit! Who cares that I'm turning 30? Besides, it's not for nine whole months!

We have two dry erase boards at work that act as calendars. So when one month is over, they erase it and put the next month up. For instance, we had June and July showing. When June was over, they erased it and put August up. That's when it hit me. Like a wall... a moving wall. A fast moving wall. As if those exist.

I'm turning 30. In two months.

I realized that I've been thinking about my birthday as though it were six months away since March. It's not March anymore. We're almost to the middle of July. My birthday? In September.

People ask me if I'm freaking out about turning 30, and I'm not, truly. But I fully admit, it's WEIRD to be turning 30. It's weird to think of myself as a thirtysomething. When my mom was 30, she was pregnant with her third kid. I remember when she turned 30 - I was devastated, because I thought she was on her way to death, surely. It's as though I felt she lost her immortality when she turned 30. Ah, the thoughts of a ten-year-old.

The truth is, I'm very happy with where my life is, save for the lack of creativity I exhibit, which is my own fault. Another truth is that I very much look forward to my thirties, because it will bring marriage (even for the gays!), children, a new home with a back yard, another sister moving to Los Angeles, more professional success (if things go as they've been going), and more memories. So it's good.

But it's still weird.

Lesbian Power Couple, updated edition

2008-07-02T20:34:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, living in Los Angeles, I constantly saw well-dressed, beautiful gay women around me, women with things to do and people to see, women changing the world, women who knew everyone. I considered a grey suit and a pair of chunky glasses symbols of power. These women tended to be in relationships with other beautiful women, and these, to me, were Lesbian Power Couples. This was something I aspired to (or thought I did), and if I weren't in a couple, at least I could be a Power Lesbian.

In the past few years, I've had a few people refer to me as a Power Lesbian, which makes me chuckle for a few reasons. I think they call me this because I have a good job and own a home in Los Angeles at 29 years old. However, I am rarely well dressed, unless you consider shorts, tee shirt, and flip flops well dressed. And me? Powerful? Come on.

A couple of weekends ago, we went to Vegas and came home to a broken air conditioner. We called our home warranty folks, and they sent out West Coast Chief Repair. They were originally supposed to arrive between 9 and 12 and finally came at 3:30. They walked in and asked, "What's the problem?" I stared blankly at them. "You tell me." They fiddled and futzed, and asked for the roof access, and after 20 minutes, they came back inside and reported, "It's broken."

My eye twitched slightly. "What's wrong with it?"

"Well, your blower fan is dirty and you have a freon leak."

"Okay, when can you fix it?"

"I don't know." More eye twitching from me. He continued, "We have to submit it to the warranty people, and then they have to order parts, and then we can schedule an appointment to come fix it."

I gave him our warranty co-payment of $55 and sent him on his way, confused as to exactly what I paid for.

A few days later, the warranty place called me and told me they would NOT pay for the repair.

The eye twitch can't be good for the Lasik recovery.

A day after that, West Coast Chief Repair called Gina to give her an estimate. "We have to clean the blower fan, which will be $350, and then we have to do a leak test, which will be $450, and then we can let you know how much it will be to fix it."

Eight hundred dollars to NOT fix it. Great. We agreed it was too much.

A day after that, the new carpet cleaner we hired came to clean the carpets. He came right on time and was exceedingly friendly. He explained that the base rate was $95, and any additional services (deodorizer, etc) were $.25 per sq. ft. He began to take very rough estimates and came back with a price tag of $275 plus the base rate of $95.

"Wait," I said. "We have 1000 sq ft here. 1000 sq ft at $.25 is $250, and you're not cleaning the kitchen or the bathrooms. How are you getting $275?" He tried to argue with me that we had "way more than" 1000 sq ft, to which I offered the inspection paperwork.

After going through his math, I realized his mistake. He was measuring the length and width of each room, adding all of those numbers together, and then multiplying the added numbers. He was coming up with 1085 sq ft for what was about half of the condo. I had to convince him that he was wrong, and he finally agreed to it and the price went down to $132.50 out the door. I don't want to think of how many people don't check his math.

As he was leaving, we asked him if he knew any AC repair people. He did indeed, and two days later, a guy named Moses called me and told me he could come look at the AC. He called me at 10am and said he could come that evening. He arrived, tools in hand, looked at the AC, went to the roof to inspect, called us to tell us to turn on the air, and came back downstairs.

"It's fixed," he said quietly. Sure enough, after suffocating for 2 weeks, it started to feel cooler in the condo. We were overjoyed. The price? $450, total. He came on time, he fixed it in the same amount of time it took the other guys to check it out, and it was $450.

We are totally a Lesbian Power Couple.

Hands free - it's the LAW.

2008-07-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

I find it funny (not ironic) that today is the widely advertised switch to a Hands Free Los Angeles, a Los Angeles where if you have a cellular telephone held to your ear while driving, you are in violation of the law, and that TODAY is the day that the bluetooth in my car decides to go on the fritz.

(I fixed it, but not before I had to resort to the OWNER'S MANUAL. Sheesh.)

One year later, part 2: the condo.

2008-06-30T11:32:00.000-07:00

In two weeks, we'll mark the one year anniversary of owning our condo. It's been a great year, and homeownership has been fantastic for us. Sure, we have to get the carpets cleaned every 6 weeks. And yes, the AC broke and it's looking like it will be well over $1000 to fix. And yes, the market has tanked and if we were to sell the condo now, we'd probably be screwed. But we love our home, and in the past year we have been able to make some minor changes with some major benefits for us, mostly that we've been able to create a space that makes us happy.

To mark the anniversary of the condo purchase, I thought I'd post some photos. Also, I'm working on a design show, and the host/designer encouraged me to post some photos so he can give me some freebie advice. Yay!

Here's the living room:

The wall color looks blue-grey in this picture, but looks much grey-er in person. We're happy with it. The sliders used to be covered by horrible vertical blinds. We love the curtains here. Notice Noodle's toys sprinkled throughout the room. We're in desperate need of a new media stand for the TV and components. Also, the tan chair in the foreground will be replaced eventually, but it serves its purpose well now.

This is a detail shot of the fireplace. I'm not really crazy about the glass mantle... we tried to make it more "us" by adding little votives all the way across. Also, the shelves on the side were something I loved when we originally saw the place. Now, they're a huge pain because we can't figure out what to put inside on them. Gina just sketched this artwork this weekend, so we think we can get away with leaving those shelves empty since there's finally something to look at above the fireplace. (We both LOVE this piece of art!)

Our super comfy couch, which might be too big for our space, and our photo wall. I bought these frames about eight months ago, and we finally hung the pictures two months ago. We LOVE them. There's that tan chair again. Someday...

This is the dining room, with Noodle being moody under the table. I guess I should've turned the lights on for this picture. The mirror wall was there when we moved in - NOT OUR IDEA. We do not like it, but feel like it's not worth removing. A lot of people say it makes our place look "bigger." I say it makes our place look "70s." To each their own, I guess. I like the table and the high chairs, but I look forward to a time when this can be not our main dining room table, but a spare one. I sort of miss the simple regular-height chairs.

This is the kitchen. We originally didn't want to change anything in this space, because we LOVE it, but I'd like a new microwave (this one is from Vietnam, I think), and I really would love to stain the cabinets a darker color. Gina stained the cabinets in the bathroom, which I stupidly didn't take any pictures of in this set, and they look sooooo good. But it was a hard job and she's not too keen on doing it for the bigger kitchen cabinets. Again with the mirrors, though. Whoever designed this condo was very vain.

We are so incredibly happy with the paint color in the bedroom. It's exactly what I envisioned when I picked it out. We love the bed and the curtains. However, I now realized we probably should have done the curtains to the floor, but it was hard enough finding these curtains that were long enough to cover the just the windows! Just like in the living room, there used to be vertical blinds covering these windows. It was hideous. I'm looking in to getting a piece of furniture made to go under the curtains, like a low shelving unit in a dark wood to match the bed and to add extra storage. I hope that will make up for the fact that the curtains don't go all the way to the floor.

The one thing about the paint color is that now the doors and the light switches and plates look terrible. In time, we'll probably look at maybe painting the doors a crisper white or something... not sure if we'll ever switch the actual switches. The switch plates would be easy, but the switches? Not so much.

Also, Gina and I both used to love that blonde maple color of the night stand, but now we've both moved to enjoying darker woods, so we need to get new night stands in here. Not to mention, the night stand on my side of the bed is a chair. Classy! We want some darker night stands with COVERED STORAGE, since we both read a lot and always have a ton of books by the bed.

There's another room and 2 bathrooms to post, but the other room is so far from being where we want it to be that I don't want to even put pictures of it up. So that's all you get for now!

Unfortunately, I have no good before pics of the condo, but trust me... it is so much better now.

It's a laser.

2008-06-11T11:37:00.000-07:00

Seventeen years of wearing glasses ended in the most expensive 20 minutes of my lifetime on Friday when I got Lasik surgery. Not just any Lasik – Custom Wavefront IntraLasik or something fancy like that! This means that my eyes were effed up just enough to require an additional thousand dollars or so worth of technology.

I’ve never disliked wearing glasses. As a matter of fact, in the past few years, my glasses have sort of become my signature thing. Some people have red hair. Some people have one arm. I had glasses. I got compliments on them, and they were the one designer item I would purchase.

So why the hell would I spend money to get rid of them? The problem was not wearing glasses. The problem was having no other option. Despite wearing contacts quite successfully in college for two years, I have since become unable to wear them without severe irritation and dry eyes. I’ve gone through four pairs at a minimum of $200 a pair in the last eight years and have not been happy with any of them. So I have gone summer after summer without sunglasses or the ability to see clearly while swimming. I have played tennis, softball, and football, all while wearing glasses. This is not fun.

Gina and I have been talking about me getting Lasik pretty seriously for about 6 months, and not-so-seriously for about a year. My big thing was to get it before we had kids. Oh, I should add “babysitting” to a list of activities I HATE doing while wearing glasses. Kids and glasses do not mix. Anyway, we agreed that the closer we get to having children, the better chance there is that I won’t have the money to get this procedure done, so I just did it. (Believe me, I don’t have the money – but I have until June of 09 to pay it off, interest free! Woo hoo!)

I have to say, I recommend this surgery to anyone. For what the results are, the surgery is a breeze. BUT, I would not want to do it again. (Readers who have weak stomachs, please stop reading now.) The incision part was bladeless for me, which was great, but it still was incredibly uncomfortable and, I admit it, pretty scary. There was a point where my vision went completely black but my eyes were wide open. They quite literally have to suck your eyeballs out of your head to make that incision, and that pressure is NOT fun. It’s that pressure that causes your vision to go black. However, it took about 10 seconds per eye.

The actual surgery was completely painless. The only discomfort I experienced was having the eyelid spreaders in my eyes… but even that was fine once I figured out how to relax. Once they turned the laser on, each eye took maybe 30 seconds. It wasn’t crystal clear like everyone seems to say it is when it was over. Everything was still blurry, but that’s because they kept putting these milky drops in my eyes that are anti-inflammatory. However, I could tell that my vision had improved greatly.

I went home, popped two valium (doctor’s orders!) and a motrin, and slept for 6 hours, which they say is mandatory. I did wake up once during that 6 hours and my eyes felt like they were full of burning sand. I forced myself back to sleep and when I awoke for the evening, they felt just a little dry and a little itchy, but nothing too terrible.

It’s now Wednesday, I am glasses-free and 20/20. My vision is just a little hazy sometimes, and it gets worse at night, but the doctor said that was normal for about the first month. It sort of feels like I’m wearing dirty or old contacts, but it doesn’t hurt or itch at all. I’m not allowed to rub my eyes for FOUR WEEKS, which is probably the hardest part of the whole thing.

I’m also going through a mourning period… I do miss my glasses. I didn’t think that I would, but I do. It doesn’t help that people keep saying, “Oh but I loved your glasses!” or “You looked so cute in your glasses!” Truthfully, I probably hid behind my glasses a lot, but damn it, I’m almost 30 and I don’t want to hide behind anything.

It has been fantastic to wake up every morning and see clearly, and to be able to wear sunglasses every single day in a city that rarely has any cloud cover. It’s amazing to be able to tell the difference in the shower between the shampoo and the conditioner without having to bring the bottle four inches from my face. I love falling asleep on the couch watching TV with no worry that I’m bending my glasses. I love going into the pool and being able to see all around me.

Despite all of this, I might some day be that person wearing prescription-less fashion glasses. Could be worse, right?

RIGHT?

This is for Mary Reilly.

2008-05-29T15:11:00.000-07:00

I shot Julia Roberts.

Well, actually, gina shot Julia Roberts… and if we’re getting technical, the shooting actually happened in a bizarre dream I had the other night. And if we’re getting really technical, I have a feeling it was a combination of Julia Roberts and Angelina Jolie, because there was a moment where the widower was Brad Pitt. Maybe I was just confusing “reality” with The Mexican.

I (stupidly) told a co-worker about this dream, and he had a very reasonable question: “Was there a motive?”

Maybe some people might actually have a motive to kill Julia Roberts, but I am not one of them. I hold a special place in my heart for Julia Roberts. So special, in fact, that I am able to overlook such movies as Mary Reilly and Runaway Bride. I was downright obsessed with Julia in high school. I have seen Pretty Woman probably 200 times. When I first visited Los Angeles, I was staying with my friend Becky, who worked in Beverly Hills. I would go to work with her during the day just so I could walk around and find all of the places where Pretty Woman was filmed. (I can show you the Regent Beverly Wilshire, and even the store where she served the mean saleslady a taste of her own medicine.) I have also managed to find the apartment she was staying in with Kit. Yeah. I’m that person.

And even more confusing, I would certainly never want to harm Angelina Jolie. That obsession started well into adulthood, and while I have kept it bay pretty well, I would turn into a 12 year old if I ran into on the street (for the third time). I won’t go in to the intricacies of my everlasting love for Angelina because I have been told more than once it is trite and common, but I’m just saying I have no ill will towards her.

Why then would valuable dream time be taken up by these murderous visions? As I thought more about this, I realized that this might actually officially be a recurring dream theme. Gina and I were just discussing recurring dreams, and I realized I don’t have any, save for the occasional dream where a plane crashes, dreams which (not surprisingly) started after 9/11. But after this movie star murder dream, I realized I have had quite a few dreams where I have killed or have been directly involved in killing someone.

The dreams always begin after I have committed the crime, never before or during, and I am overwhelmed by a crushing sense of regret and doom, and a tangible disgust in what I have done. There is never even a remote possibility in the dreams that I will get away with my crime, but it’s not the punishment that scares me. It’s the disappointment I know I will face from everyone I love, and the disappointment in myself that I so clearly lost control. And even in the haze of my nightmare, I am suffocated by the desire to go back in time, to undo what I’ve done. Even though it’s a dream world, where anything can happen, I am never able to fix the situation. I’m never able to bring the person back to life – I never get a second chance. The best thing that happens is that I wake up whimpering, then terrified, until that warm relief of consciousness washes over me.

I’m not sure what any of this means. I only hope the next dream I have about either one of these women involves much less gun violence and more naked cuddling.

Giovanni

2008-05-21T14:38:00.000-07:00

Gina's brother, sister-in-law, and nephew came to visit us from Holland a few weeks ago. It was great to see them - but it went by really quickly.

Here's my favorite shot from the trip, at Venice Beach.

Bigger and better.

2008-05-02T15:34:00.000-07:00

I quite literally have no excuse to not be posting more. Seriously. So much stuff has happened in the past six months. I want to devote one post to each of them, but they've all happened in the past. I could blog about a few things that happened more recently but I don't have any pictures to accompany. However, I was able to find one picture online that sort of illustrates something that happened recently.

This isn't quite accurate, because the Saturn Vue that I purchased is black. But I do indeed own (am leasing) one of these puppies, and boy howdy do I love it. I love the V6, I love the leather seats, the bluetooth, the remote start, the universal remote, the cargo cover, the cargo net, the FOUR DOORS, the roof rack... sigh. I love it. Love love love.

Yes, I have increased my carbon footprint. But I recycle! I take re-usable bags to the grocery store! I (sometimes) shop at farmer's markets! I vote Democrat!

Okay, okay. I'll buy a hybrid next time. Sheesh.

Making promises I can't keep, and What's in a name?

2008-04-08T16:51:00.000-07:00

I promised myself I'd pay more attention to this space. And look, a whole March without a post.

A lot of things keep happening and changing, but there are two changes that happened a long time ago and I keep meaning to update you. First and foremost, my sister Jackie moved in with us January 23rd. She had a rough first few weeks, but then she got a job and realized how cool it is to make good money and live somewhere where it's 80 degrees in February, and she started to love it.

The day after Jackie arrived, I found a small white dog wandering around on our street. He had a nylon rope around his neck, and was filthy and matted. He came to me without much fight, so I brought him upstairs, bathed him and gave him a squirt of Advantage, intending to call Animal Control. Instead, he slept over, and then we took him to the vet, where we found out he was chipped! Yay! we called the owner and left a message... twice. No response. His skin was infected from a flea infestation - he constantly was scratching at himself. We figured we'd find a new home for him, but it's been over two months and he's made himself a part of our family.

When I first found him, I was calling him Boy Dog. I didn't want to name him because I thought if we named him, we'd get really attached to him and we'd have to give him away. Giving him away would be no easy feat to begin with - he's older, lazy, and as sweet and cuddly as he is, he is not completely housebroken. (I won't go into detail about how we got the carpets cleaned a week before we found this dog, and now... well, you can imagine.) Anyway, once we decided we were keeping him, we started to try to think of a name for him. We went through everything from Barkley to Spot, but just last week we thought of Uncle Traveling Matt (think Fraggle Rock). So now, he's Uncle Traveling Matt, or Traveling Matt, or Uncle Matt, or just Matt... but mostly, he's still Boy Dog.

At this point, there's no way we could ever give him away. Noodle would never forgive us.

A day at the beach.

2008-02-27T23:55:00.000-08:00

Notes from Roatan

2008-02-27T11:46:00.000-08:00

I wrote this while I was in Roatan last fall:

17 November 2007

I’ve been in Honduras for a week for work; specifically, Roatan, which is part of the Bay Islands of Honduras. I assume this is where most of the tourists come when they come to Honduras. We never got to the mainland, which I believe is 30 miles southwest.

It’s no secret to any of my friends that I’m sick of traveling. When people hear about my job, they marvel at how fantastic it sounds, and I admit, it is a great job. I’m lucky to be able to see all of these places that I would have probably never seen otherwise. I had never been out of the country before I took this job – now I’ve been to five different countries, which I know isn’t a lot, but in one year, that’s an accomplishment. And I’ve gone for free to each and every one… and have gotten paid to be there, have been issued per diem for each country so that I basically don’t have to spend any of my own money if I don’t want to. So yes, that part of it is cool. But I miss gina, I miss Noodle, and I miss my friends. Some of my friends, my closest friends, people that I like to call my best friends, I haven’t seen them in months. My life really is on hold until I’m done with this job.

I’m digressing. I wanted to talk about Roatan. I was nervous about coming here. It’s a developing country, and the Travel Clinic pumped me full of inoculations before I left: typhoid, Hepatitis A, and a tetanus shot just for safety. I also am taking malaria pills. I was told not to drink the water, to even avoid drinking anything with ice in it. I was also told to avoid anything not cooked: salads, raw vegetables, etc. There was even a warning about drinking from bottles – Honduras recycles their bottles by rinsing them out and using them again. It’s not at all uncommon to ask for a Coke and get a bottle with a rusty top, or ask for a Port Royal (local beer) and get a bottle with a paper towel wrapped around the top so that you could wipe the bottle off before you drink it. On top of this, everything I read said to not even brush your teeth with the water that comes out of the faucet. They also suggested you not buy local bottled water – internationally bottled water is best, because you can more guarantee that it’s been purified. And when we got here, Mike my camera guy told me to keep my mouth closed in the shower, which at first I thought, uh… why would I have my mouth open in the shower? And then I took a shower, and realized it’s kind of hard to shower with your mouth totally closed the whole time.

We landed on a runway similar to a domestic airport I’ve been to that I can’t remember now, but we were over water until the very last second. You didn’t see land until the wheels hit it, and the pilot slammed on the brakes. I’ve never experienced a plane slow down so quickly. Our production assistant Omar was waiting for us. Omar was born in Honduras, he’s middle aged with friendly eyes and a boyish smile. He reminds me of my Uncle Mark. He helped us load the van and we were off to the hotel.

We’re staying at a little resort owned and operated by an American couple. It's a nice place, but it's more "beachside cabin" than it is "beachside resort." We each got our own little cabin, and I can see the water from my front door; it’s about a 30 second walk to the water’s edge. There’s a hammock on every front porch. It’s a very relaxing place, except for all of the mosquitoes and sand fleas. They give you an empty bucket and encourage you to fill it with water so that you can rinse your feet off before you go into your cabin so that you don’t bring the sand fleas in with you. They also leave two towels on your bed so that you always have something to wipe your feet off so that the bugs don’t get into bed with you. My pillowcases smelled a little musty the first few days, but as soon as I told the staff about it, they replaced my sheets with fresh-smelling ones. Overall, the beds are pretty comfortable.

View from my room.

View from my porch.

From the hotel bar.

Technology is spotty. The internet did not work for the first three days, then it worked very well for three days, and now is not working again. There are no phones in the rooms. Oddly, there are televisions with pretty decent cable, but the furnishings in the cabin are wicker and do not make for comfortable sitting to view TV. The cell phone my company issued me sometimes would dial out, and sometimes it wouldn’t. Some numbers it would let me dial no problem – others, not so much. Needless to say, I felt very disconnected.

We were told when we got here that it had been raining for a week, and the forecast was calling for more rain. The road leading to our hotel, which is between a quarter mile and a half mile long, coming from the main road, was totally flooded.

Road leading to our hotel.

Omar slowly navigated his van down this road every day we were here; some days it was in three inches of water, some days almost a foot. After the first few days of rain, we started to see ducks swimming around on the road and in the adjacent flooded lot. There is a little house on stilts right before our hotel. The land surrounding the house has been completely flooded since we got here. Yesterday I saw someone on the porch of the house washing clothes in a washtub with a washboard, and hanging them up to dry. I wonder if they left their house all week… you couldn’t pay me to walk through that water.

The roads really have no names; they’re referred to by where they lead. “Meet me at the corner of Flowers Bay and West End.” Those are two neighborhoods probably 7 kilometers apart, but the roads in and out of them do meet at some point.

I feel incredibly spoiled and out of place here. A lot of the houses are in such a bad state of disrepair, crumbling under their own weight. All week I’ve seen children, ranging from five to fifteen, walking around trying to sell stuff to tourists, and I wonder what their childhood is really like. I saw a three or four year old little girl playing at the end of a very long driveway or private road, all by herself, right alongside the traffic. I saw a brother and a sister, probably six and four, alongside the road in another place, clearly far from anyone’s house, looking around in the grass. Kids walking barefoot over gravel, not wincing at all. And men riding in trucks on their way to work – pick up trucks, with one guy driving and six to ten men in the bed of the truck. I made a comment to Omar about how dangerous that is and how it’s illegal in the states, and he said, “It’s illegal here, but it’s not really enforced. These people have no other way to get to work – it’s either this or a cab, and they can’t afford a cab.”

And my god, the dogs. There are stray dogs everywhere. It was similar in Curacao, but I just spent more time here and I can’t believe how many dogs are roaming around. When we arrived, there were two little puppies on the porch next to mine. Their mom had given birth to six, and four of them died in the flood that happened before we arrived. These two were left, and mom was roaming around somewhere, apparently forgetful that she had just given birth. The puppies couldn’t even walk yet – their eyes weren’t open. They scooted around and cuddled with each other on a towel. And all over the island, there are dogs that are left to fend for themselves. I know dogs are animals and usually they have no trouble fending for themselves, but on an island where some humans have a hard time buying food, you better believe that the dogs are having a hard time finding the food. Skinny, ribs-poking-through-their-sides dogs. I saw one puppy, probably six months old, following around it’s mama. Both dogs so painfully skinny, but the puppy could barely walk because he was so undernourished. I think of my dog at home who gets treats all day and has a full dish of food whenever she wants it next to a bowl of filtered water, is treated every month so that she doesn’t get fleas, has probably six toys, an endless supply of rawhide bones, and sleeps in bed with us every single night under the covers. I think of how she would manage, out on her own here, and I get sick to my stomach. If I’m ever wealthy, I want to start an organization that comes to islands and offers money to the locals to bring the dogs to get spayed or neutered, and possibly education on taking care of dogs.

A pooch that hung around our hotel. We called him Chief.

Abandoned puppies, napping on the porch next to my cottage.

Local pooch with collar.

There are several paved roads that run through the island, but a lot of roads are just left to the elements and are muddy and almost impassable. Omar lost his spare tire on two separate occasions in muddy, waterlogged sections of roads. Other roads are just so bumpy, it’s like you’re on a ride at an amusement park trying to cross them – think the Indiana Jones ride at Disneyland.

West End Road - West End is the touristy nightlife spot.

Our PA tries to find the strongest spot of the road where his van will pass safely.

I learned that it’s not just the tourists that are advised to not drink the water. No one drinks the water out of the tap. I mean, I say that LA tap water is dirty, but I can drink it if I need to. I can brush my teeth with it. I learned that it’s easy to find a guy to do construction on your house all day for $10 a day.

I enjoyed my hammock one day for an hour and by the time I came back inside, I had nine mosquito bites on my elbow alone. My arms and legs are currently covered with angry little welts that itch all the time.

***

There's no real ending to this, which is why I never posted it. I didn't get malaria, and I ended up having a great time. I guess the ending would be that despite everything I said, I would totally go back. How can you ignore these sunsets?

No Country for Old Men

2008-02-26T17:26:00.000-08:00

When I tell people I travel for work, most people say, “You’re so lucky, that’s so fantastic!” What people don’t understand is how lonely it really can be. You’re at the airport by yourself, you’re at the hotel by yourself, you’re driving by yourself, etc., etc. I finally found something that breaks up my trips nicely. I’ve taken to going to the movies while I’m out of town. I’ll go to Yahoo! Movies, type in the zip code of my hotel, and figure out what’s playing where. I’ll pick my movies based on a few things: what will I NOT see at home? What movies are playing that Gina might not want to see? What am I willing to see by myself?

This past Oscar weekend found me in Seattle. I was originally excited to go to Seattle because I have a great friend who lives up there. When I told her my travel plans, she regretfully told me she was heading to San Francisco the same weekend. Sigh. Anyway, as it was Oscar weekend, and I had only seen one Oscar film, I told myself I’d go see “No Country for Old Men,” since it seemed to be the favorite to win. I did have some concern that maybe this wasn’t a movie I should be seeing by myself, but I put the concern aside and went to the Pacific Place AMC in downtown Seattle and took in a 7:10 show.

I had heard/read so many great things about this movie, I would be lying if I said my hopes weren’t high. I also have enjoyed the Coen Brothers’ offerings through the years, with the exception of “O Brother Whereart Thou,” and even that movie was not a movie I hated, but rather a movie that I felt was overrated.

Possible Spoiler warning

The movie has three main characters: Llewelyn Moss, played by Josh Brolin; Anton Chigur, played by Javier Bardem; and Ed Tom Bell, played by Tommy Lee Jones. Ed Tom Bell is the weatherworn sheriff of the small Texas town, Llewelyn is the typical lower-class huntin’ Texan, and Anton Chigur is the local devil incarnate. The movie spends a whole lot of time following Llewelyn and Anton on the most terrifying cat and mouse game ever, one where the mouse has a suitcase full of 2 million dollars, and the cat has a compressed-air cattle gun that he’s not afraid to use… on people. On the fringes and peppered throughout is Ed Tom Bell commenting on life, sheriffhood, and getting old. The movie is beautifully shot, and brilliantly directed. The way the Coen Brothers handle suspense is Hitchockian at its worst and unparalleled at its best.

Here’s the problem with this movie, and this is where the spoiler will come in. This movie is not about the cat and mouse game. This movie is about Ed Tom Bell getting older and being disappointed in life, but being totally unafraid of what’s next. The meatiest scences, to me, were the scenes where Ed Tom was expounding on the times already gone. I mean, the movie is called “No Country for Old Men.” “Old Men” is Ed Tom Bell. It’s not Anton Chigur or Llewelyn Moss. And to me, the problem was that the Coens didn’t want to decide what kind of movie they were making, and it’s almost like they fleshed out the two ancillary stories instead of the one that really matters. And what irks me even more is I feel like they did this because they could, because they are the Coens, and they will do as they please, thank you very much. This was confirmed by the way Tall Coen reacted to getting the award. Sure his words made him seem thankful, but his manner was so unimpressed with the whole thing. And I know they’re not Hollywood, but they just had the better part of 6500 of their peers tell them that they’re movie was the best movie they had seen all year. You cut out the red carpet, the cameras, the glamour, the tuxes, the designers, the jewelry, and even the golden statue, that’s still a pretty big deal. Tall Coen said that when he and Short Coen were younger, they used to make little movies on their own about whatever they wanted, and it feels like they still do that, and they’re grateful for that opportunity. It’s true – they just make whatever movie they want, and it doesn’t matter that you don’t see when one of the main characters gets killed, or one minute you see the bad guy behind the door and the next second he’s nowhere to be found. It doesn’t matter that you’re telling the wrong story in the movie – it doesn’t matter because you’re the COENS. You can do whatever you want.

Having said all of that, I liked the movie overall, I just didn’t think it was anywhere close to the best movie of the year. I’m not purporting to know what the hell I’m talking about, but as a moviegoer and someone who appreciates character driven movies, this movie disappointed me. The Ed Tom Bell storyline was great, and I wanted more of it… I’m curious to find out what story the book tells.

In case you’re wondering, I wanted Juno to win. Yes, it was the only other film I saw, but I loved every minute of it, and can’t think of a better movie I saw all year. Next order of business: join Producer’s Guild so that I don’t have to leave my house to see movies next awards season.

Slowly but surely.

2008-02-25T09:03:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about this blog lately. I know it's hard to tell that, from my crazy lack of posting, but it's on my mind a lot.

The thing is, there are several things happening in my life right now that I can't really share in this space, and these things are kind of big, so it's hard to find other things to talk about. Everything else seems... well, trivial. But I'm starting to think that I'm using this as an easy way out of a commitment I made to no one but myself, and that's to write in this space as much as I can, to keep my mind working and moving in a creative direction. And truthfully, there is no one that wants this updated more than I do. Therefore, I am going to make an effort to start posting with some sort of regularity again... if for no other reason than to satisfy myself.

No promises, everybody... but hopefully you'll hear from me just a little more often from here on out.

It already feels good to be back.

Noodle and Rogue

2008-01-02T10:59:00.000-08:00

At Christmas, we finally got to meet my sister Jessie's dog, Rogue, a 30 pound four month old Great Dane Boxer mix.

Hiatus

2007-12-05T12:46:00.001-08:00

Hi loyal reader(s),

I've completely abandoned my blog as of late, and I just wanted to pop on here and let you all know that there are reasons for this abandonment. I plan to resume regular posting after the first of the year. There's a lot going on right now, things that are demanding every waking minute of my attention and, as it turns out, every sleeping minute as well. I'm hoping the next few weeks will bring some sort of calm over me, and I'll be back January 1st (ish) with plenty of new and exciting stuff.

Thanks,
Katie

Happy Halloween!

2007-10-31T19:04:00.000-07:00

Wrestlemania!

2007-10-25T12:57:00.000-07:00

Here are some videos from this morning's Wrestlemania, starring Knuckles Noodle and Hulk Logan.

Don't worry everybody! It's all in fun! No one was hurt!

Also, to be fair to both dogs, no winner was declared. They both fell asleep after these were taken.

Sleepover!

2007-10-25T10:44:00.001-07:00

Noodle has a guest for the next week at our house. Her name is Logan. She's sleeping over while her mom is in Hawaii.

(That's gina's leg in between them.)

They are pretty hilarious when they wrestle. I'm going to try to capture some video at some point this weekend.

Prelude to a kid.

2007-10-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

I was enjoying the last bit of a bowl of cereal this morning on the couch, watching the fire coverage, chatting on the phone with a friend. Noodle comes trotting out of the office, where gina is playing with Shelfari. Noodle comes to my feet and looks up at me. I'm looking at her, talking to the friend, and a split second later, she jumps onto my lap. The bowl of cereal is balanced on my left leg... she is now on my right.

"NOODLE! Get down!"

Sensing she's done something wrong, she hurriedly figures her best way out, which was to turn around on my lap, thereby sticking two paws IN my cereal bowl, and then jumping onto the NEW couch, with two milky paws, and then off of the couch to the ground. The wreckage - two milky paw prints on the couch, and milk all over my pants.

Taking the bull(sh*t) by the horns.

2007-10-21T05:41:00.000-07:00

There are two things in my life that have been consistent. Two powers that started early and have never gone away. They are:

1. Writing, or as the writing tournament in middle school called it, the Power of the Pen, and
2. Procrastination

Admittedly, I've always been MUCH better at the latter, and only good at the former when I get into a groove - which is, to say, when I actually do it and do it a lot and under deadlines and for eyes other than my own. Ever since Mrs. Ames made us keep a journal in second grade, I've loved writing. Every subsequent "A" on English papers made me love it even more, and I've still never forgotten that "B" I got on an Art History paper in college (who did that woman think she was, giving me that "B"?? She's an ART HISTORY teacher, what does she know about writing??).

I've been wholly disappointed in my writing for the past, let's say, four to five years. When I do it, I don't like what I produce. When I don't do it, I feel... icky. There have been a magical few times where I'm doing it and doing it a lot, and I'm loving what I'm putting down on the page, and I experience a fulfillment I have never gotten out of any job, ever. These magical times are few and far between, and that annoys me. But then I always think, "Ah, I'll really commit to writing, starting next week."

The two consistencies in my life are not compatible.

Since no publisher is hounding me to turn in my manuscript on time, and since I am here and now publicly admitting my inability to discipline myself to write on my own, I've made the firm decision to participate in National Novel Writing Month. It starts at 12:01am on November 1st and ends at 11:59PM on November 30th. The goal is to write 50,000 words in one month (woo hoo - a novel!). To win, you simply have to write 50,000 words. You get a fancy certificate and the knowledge that hey, you just wrote a novel.

I'm sharing this with those of you that read this site, because I know by November 5th, I'll want to say, "Meh, I'll just do it next year." Two years ago, I told (made the mistake of telling?) my friend Wendy about NaNoWriMo (as it's called). Wendy is the one friend who writes that has never let me read her work. And I bet it's fantastic. In any case, the following November, on probably November 3rd, she called me and said, "How's your novel coming?" I laughed. "What novel?" "It's National Novel Writing Month!" I laughed even harder. "Oh, Wendy, you're HILARIOUS." Throughout the month, she kept asking how my novel was coming, even though she knew I wasn't writing one. She would give me updates on hers, the one she was writing at 11PM every night, after both kids and her husband were in bed, after all the family maintenance was done. And I was too busy "sleeping" or "watching The Office" or "sleeping."

So this November, I'm doing it. And you (every last one of you) have to hold me accountable. Of course, I won't let you read the novel, because it's going to be absolute crap (which they encourage). But I will keep you posted on my word count. And I promise (to try) not to lie.

One week and change left...

Noodle at work

2007-10-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes Noodle comes to work with me. Here's her first day on the job:

On dog ownership.

2007-10-16T14:13:00.000-07:00

I don't want this site to become solely about our dog, but she's completely changed our lives. I'm shocked at the effect she's had on me. I knew life would be different with her, but I was only thinking about it as the care taking part - where will she stay when we go out of town? How often will we have to walk her? How hard will it be to train her? In the weeks before she came, gina and I would get up in the morning and lounge around and have coffee and watch TV before work, and gina would say, "I'm going to miss mornings like this." I would sleepily agree... and certainly, since Noodle's arrival, I've only slept past 6:30 once. What I didn't expect was how little it would bother me. Everything I do for her, I do happily - even when she's not listening, even when she's vomiting in my car (she gets carsick pretty easily), even when she's restless at 5:30am because she needs to go outside - I never, ever resent her. I couldn't imagine resenting her.

I know she's a dog, and not a child. But I have to say, if I feel like this about a dog, I can't imagine what I'll feel like when we have children. Everything this dog does makes me laugh right out loud. I feel so overwhelmingly responsible for her and for her happiness, and because she makes me so happy, I only want to return the favor to her.

I fully admit, I never thought I'd feel this way about a dog. We took her to doggy day care today - Wagville in Los Angeles. She passed her evaluation last week with flying colors, and they told us we could bring her whenever we wanted. Not wanting to travel home to take her out at lunch time, I suggested to gina we take her today. First day of school! I heard myself saying to the receptionist, "You'll call me if something happens, right?" She smiled and said, "She'll be fine. Yes, we'll call you if something happens. But she'll be fine."

Wagville has a web cam so you can check in on the action. I checked it about 20 minutes after I dropped her off and didn't see her. Of course, I thought I saw her - there are probably 6 little tan dogs. However, when I actually DID see her, there was no mistaking her - a skinny little body with a surprisingly big head and a tail like a squirrel - bushy and straight up in the air. My heart literally leapt, and I felt myself smiling (almost stupidly). It's almost impossible to accurately describe the feeling I had at that moment.

Last week, I took Noodle to meet my friend Wendy's kids, Zoe (5) and Wyatt (4). I brought her in and introduced her to the kids, who were engrossed in a Barbie video. Wyatt looked at her, and then looked up at me grinning. He said, "You're a mother now!"

I had to agree with him.

Noodle at the park.

2007-10-08T23:37:00.000-07:00

Adjusting to her new life.

2007-10-03T08:38:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if she likes it here...

After...

2007-10-02T15:16:00.000-07:00

Noodle's first haircut turned out to be a bit of a shave. She was quite matted and noticeably itchy, so I told the groomer if he needed to shave her, he could. We were devasted to lose all of her adorable hair, but she seems much happier now, and she can actually see where she's going!

She has my color and gina's curls...

2007-09-30T15:54:00.000-07:00

Introducing...

Noodle the poodle!

This is the newest member of our family. She arrived yesterday, in need of a serious hair cut, but I wanted to post these pictures before she gets her hair cut, because I can't promise she'll be this cute once the groomer gets a hold of her. She's pretty matted and clearly can't see very well... we might have to get her shaved and start from scratch with her hairdo.

My cousin from Florida brought her out here to live with us after her five boys declared they didn't really want a dog. We plan on spoiling her highly.

Stay tuned for many, many more pictures.

Happy coin purse

2007-09-27T09:57:00.001-07:00

The logo from a Hungarian grocery store meets Photo Booth and extreme jet lag.

Morning in Budapest

2007-09-26T23:37:00.000-07:00

From my hotel room.

Godson

2007-09-22T10:10:00.000-07:00

My friend Kim has asked me to be her youngest son Brady's godmother. It's either because I was present at his birth and was one of the first people in the world to hold him, OR because he totally looks like he could be my kid.

Either way, I can't remember the last time I was this excited to go to church.

Thanks, Kim.

Tales from Smith Mountain Lake, Virigina

2007-09-19T16:37:00.000-07:00

I'm shooting in a very rural but beautiful lake area in Virginia called Smith Mountain Lake. My crew is from DC, and I don't think any of us fully understood exactly what "rural" meant, until last night.

We headed out for dinner at 9pm, driving about 10 minutes to the nearest restaurant, only to find it was closed. And it's not like it had just closed. It clearly had been closed for a half hour to 45 minutes. We kept driving another 20 minutes or so until we found what looked like some activity in a strip mall. We parked at a pizza place and went to the door to find out if they were still open. It was closed... but the waitress saw us come up the door. She opened the door for us.

"Is there anywhere around here we can have dinner?" my camera guy asked.

She looked at him, looked at her watch, and said in a southern drawl, "Darling, it's 9:30. I suggest you find yourself a grocery store."

Travel Tips

2007-09-16T17:36:00.000-07:00

Dear Guy Sitting in the Row Behind Me on the Airplane,

When deplaning, it is common knowledge that you are supposed to let the people in the rows in front of you step out first. Everyone wants to get off the plane just as badly as you do... probably more so than you do because, as you have made perfectly clear by your blatant disregard for this, one of the simplest and most widely known of all airplane rules, you most likely only travel for pleasure, and at that, probably only once every other year.

The Gold Preferred status I hold isn't exactly a "thank you" from US Airways so much as an apology for repeatedly putting up with all the bullshit that comes with flying the friendly skies.

Enjoy your flight,
Katie

The Brave One

2007-09-14T23:58:00.000-07:00

I decided last week that a good way to utilize the many hours I find myself alone and away from home is to go to the movies to see films I would otherwise undoubtedly miss. Last week in Alabama, I saw Superbad. Tonight, I went to see The Brave One.

It's no Silence of the Lambs. But really, what is? And what will ever be? Nothing. I'd give it a B+, and really only because the storyline is so unbelievable. However, Terrence Howard and Jodie Foster both gave great performances, and Nicky Katt as Detective Vitale stole pretty much every scene he was in. My favorite exchange:

Det. Vitale: This guy's got a rap sheet longer than my dick.
Det. Mercer (Howard): So, no priors?

I love Jodie Foster. Love, love, love. I used to have the movie poster from Maverick hanging up in my bedroom in high school. I have to say though, the older she gets, there's one thing she cannot do. And that one thing is pretend that she's straight.

I can't remember ever seeing Jodie Foster gayer than she is in this movie. Sure, she looks like she's probably loves Naveen Andrews (who plays David, her boyfriend) - the smiles, the touchiness - but this could all be a new friend crush or something. This woman is clearly a lesbian.

Now, there are some lesbians who could probably easily play straight women on film. Portia DiRossi and Leisha Hailey are both great examples. Ellen DeGeneres? No. k.d. lang? Never. We can officially add Jodie to that list.

I guess we can't fully blame Jodie for how overtly gay she seems in this movie. First of all, everyone is pretty sure she's gay in real life. Secondly, whoever designed her "look" for this movie clearly wanted to appeal to the lesbian in all of us. Her hair is the shagginess of her "Freaky Friday" days and the length of her "Accused" days. Neither look is very feminine. To top it off, she's constantly carrying around this messenger bag - never a purse - and she's always dressed like she's hitting up ladies night at the Normandie room - little trendy tee shirts, low waisted jeans, comfortable shoes that could most likely crush your skull. Not to mention, what little makeup she does wear was clearly not put on by her. There's a scene where she's putting lip gloss on and she might as well be smearing tar on her face - she seems that unaccustomed to such trappings as lip gloss. The look in her eyes is, "Okay, it's just like chapstick, only with a wand instead of a tube. You can DO this, Jodie."

I used to think Jodie was getting hotter with every movie she made. Turns out, she's just getting gayer... which for me, equals hotter.

Life without a bonus room.

2007-09-07T16:17:00.001-07:00

I don't talk a lot about work on this blog, for very good reason, but my job takes me all around the world into different people's houses. Seeing how other people live really makes you examine how YOU live. And more often than not, I'm flabbergasted at how much space people want and think they need. I guess the more realistic thing to say is, I'm amazed at how much house people can get for their money in almost everywhere except Los Angeles.

I remember the first time I heard the term "bonus room." My friend Lindsay was having a birthday party at her house in Mission Viejo and she was giving us a tour of the house. I don't remember specifically what she was referring to, but she informed us that the location of such-and-such was in the bonus room. She showed us the room, and boy howdy, was it a bonus room. There was no other way to describe it. It literally had no purpose but to be full of all the bonus stuff you happen to own. Lindsay's had two guitars, a drum set, a bar, and a pull down movie screen projector setup. My reaction was simply to say, "Bonus!"

Many of these houses I see all over the country, specifically in the middle part of the country, have these bonus rooms. One such room in one such house was literally bigger than The Treehouse (mine and gina's studio apartment). It was 650 square feet of play space for three small children.

It's impossible for me to see these houses and wonder what mine and gina's life would be like if we owned one of these houses. These houses that are 3000+ square feet. I can't say that these houses are too big, or too extravagant, because they're priced lower than our 1000 square foot condo. There's something to be said for having that much space. People say they need it, but the truth is, they want it. And who wouldn't?

I just can't wrap my head around that much space. I grew up in a house with a mom, a dad, two sisters, 1100 square feet, three bedrooms, and one bathroom. I remember specifically having to announce to the whole house, "I'm going to take a shower now, please don't anyone run any water," and then STORMING out of the bathroom in a towel into the kitchen and yelling at my mom, "I had ONE request, to NOT run any water, could you not wait FIVE MINUTES to do the dishes??" (That was clearly during my bitchy phase.) I remember having to strategically plan when to wake up so that I could have enough bathroom time before or after my mom, but never during, because the bathroom was extremely small (who knew there was such a thing as a DOUBLE VANITY?), and my mom obviously got bathroom priority. I had never even heard of a walk in closet until I was probably 9 years old... and I certainly didn't think they were common.

When I'm at home in our condo in Los Angeles, I never crave more space. I feel like we have plenty. We have two bedrooms and TWO BATHROOMS (a first for me), a small kitchen but one with plenty of counter space, a walk-in closet in one room and a huge closet in the other room, and a living room/dining room area with enough space to entertain. I think to myself, we can totally have two kids while we're living here. This is plenty of space. This is a mere 100 square feet less than my parents' home.

Then I travel. I go to other places. And I see how your life can be made infinitely easier by having more space. Your kids don't have to share a room. Your kids can have their own bathroom. You can have your own bathroom. And your guests? They can have another bathroom. You can have a room dedicated solely to TV watching, pool playing, air hockey, or even Twister. You can have a formal living room (although I really don't understand the purpose of that), a family room, and a huge kitchen with an island. You can have a huge back yard with your very own in-ground pool (my friends in southern California make fun of me for calling them in-ground pools - I don't think they've ever seen an above ground pool). You can have enough space for both of your cars to fit in the garage, plus jet skis, motorcycles, work station, and maybe even darts. Your house can be the house your children's friends come to to have sleepovers, pool parties, birthday parties, picnics, play dates.

My mind doesn't stop there. Because the truth is, for gina and I to buy a house like this, we'd have to leave Los Angeles. And leaving Los Angeles most certainly means moving back to Ohio. I think of what that would be like - being so close to our families. I day dream about my mom being able to visit whenever she wants, about us being able to see gina's nieces whenever we want. Christmases, Thanksgivings, birthday parties, BBQs... all with our families. Our kids growing up with their cousins.

Somehow, this is only appealing to me when I'm away from Los Angeles. Then I get back to the usually mild weather, the palm trees, the saltwater in the air. I see the mountains, I smell the flowers. It's always a transition I have to go through, but I realize that when it comes down to it, I love living there. And my dream house isn't a 3000 square foot house in Ohio. It's my friend Wendy's house - an 1800 square foot Spanish style house in Hancock Park with hardwood floors, four bedrooms, two and a half baths, a fireplace, a doggy door and a fenced-in back yard, in a neighborhood where people know each other. It's a house you can't hide from one another in, but where there's always enough room for everyone. This transition from anywhere else back to LA is almost as hard actually being away. It does, however, help me keep things in perspective.

(I still think a bonus room would be cool.)

Some highlights

2007-09-04T04:36:00.000-07:00

1. Alive and visiting - I'm definitely still alive over here, despite my severe lack of posting. I've been traveling for work so extensively that I feel like I'm a visitor in my own life. Not much has happened over the past month and a half that didn't involve me getting on an airplane. Therefore, not much to talk about.

2. Katie's tour of the Southeast - Somehow, work has repeatedly sent me to the southeast during what must have been one of the hottest summers on record. I've been in the heat and humidity all summer and never realized the benefits and necessity of sweating more than I do now. Even the triple digit temps in LA recently have been a breath of stifled air compared to what I've been working in all summer. I type this now from the French Quarter in New Orleans, where I'll be working one day before driving over to Mobile, Alabama. Yeah - I'm not kidding. I'm the master of the southeast. I gotta say though, my skin's never been better. And I actually have a tan.

3. Birthdays - My birthday is next week, and I'm throwing myself what I think will be my last big birthday party. This will be my fourth "invite everyone I know" party, and since I'm turning 29, I think this is a good time to stop. Maybe I'll change my mind, but the turnout this year isn't looking as good as it has been in the past, and I feel like it's a good idea to go out with a bang. My 30th birthday might be a trip to Vegas... I haven't decided. I have a year to figure that out - thank God.

4. Home sweet home - Our condo is coming along swimmingly. We LOVE it. In gina's words: "I feel like a weight has been lifted that I didn't even know I was carrying." We're ridiculously happy with it.

5. Teaser - stay tuned for some semi-big news that I'll share in the next two weeks or so. No, I'm not pregnant.

The one where I'm (pleasantly) surprised

2007-07-16T18:12:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, Gina decided to throw a party in my honor. It's not my birthday, but I haven't been in town for most of the last month, and apparently people were missing me. I was also missing these people. My married-with-kids friend Wendy went out of town for a few weeks and Patrick was housesitting, so with Gina's permission from Wendy, she planned a little get together at their absolutely perfect house with their absolutely perfect yard and beyond absolutely perfect dog. I was thrilled - a party which I didn't have to plan, cook for, worry about... it was all Gina. I was impressed.

Party day (July 14) went off well - we had a really busy morning, as I was leaving the next day for Tampa for work. I had errands, a guitar lesson, shoe shopping, and a pedicure to get out of the way before I could even start to pack for the trip. Not to mention - we're moving this coming Saturday, and being the FANTASTIC girlfriend that I am, I'm going to be out of town the whole packing week. Needless to say, I was feeling incredibly guilty and wanted to pack something, ANYTHING, in prepartation for the move. (Let me insert here that Gina has been nothing but a rockstar about the fact that she's doing most of the packing by herself. Perhaps she's cursing me right now as I type, but she hasn't let on at all that she's upset. Reason number 643 why I love her, you see.)

After a trip to the grocery store for party food, we arrived at Wendy's where I promptly threw in a load of laundry. (Let me insert HERE that when I get back to Los Angeles, we will forever more have free laundry in our own house!!) Allyson and Lisa were the first to arrive, and they started decorating the back yard with white twinkle lights. I was becoming more and more impressed at how much thought went into this little party - all for me! Loving it.

We started drinking, and more people arrived. We were listening to music in the back yard, courtesy of a playlist Gina made specifically for this party. I looked at her like a proud parent - Gina is NOT one to plan parties. That falls under my duties and responsibilities. I was proud of her newfound party-throwing ability. Everyone was having fun as the night went on, and they even started dancing! It was a sight to behold - a bunch of gay singles and couples dancing, and one straight couple in the middle. When the song "At Last" came on, Gina finally pursuaded me to dance with her.

We have a running joke (although I use "joke" really loosely) that we don't really have an anniversary. We were long distance for so long, and then broken up, and then confused... so Gina often will tell people we've only been together six months - even though it's been on and off for about five years. As we were dancing, she said, "I think we should make today our anniversary." I thought for a second and shrugged: "Okay. 'Cause of Bastille Day?" "Sure," she said.

She then reminded me that we had talked about having some sort of commitment ceremon/not-a-wedding-but-sort-of-a-wedding-...-an-illegal-one-at-that, and she said she thinks we should do it next year. This was something we had discussed several times in the past, and once again, I agreed that this was a good idea. She then spun me around in that little dancey way you spin people, and when I turned around, she was on her knee and gave me a diamond ring. A Diamond Ring! And asked, "Would you be my... um... partner... of... uh, domesticity?" - at a loss for what to call me. I looked around to all of my friends as if to say, "Would you look at this? She's proposing! Can you guys believe it?!" But they all looked at me with knowing smiles, and then it dawned on me - they were all in on it. Every one knew about, every moment was orchestrated just so, and it was all done without me knowing. I have never, ever been more surprised. There's a line in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, when Clark sees his cousin Eddie on his front yard. Eddie asks if he's surprised, and Clark says, "Eddie, I wouldn't be more surprised if I woke up with my head sewn to the carpet."

In one surreal, amazing, unforgettable moment, I became Engaged. My first reaction when I saw the ring was to say, "What is that? Is that REAL?" Gina assured me that it's very, very real. When I told my friend Chrissie, she said, "Have you set a date?" Me: "A date? For what? Oh, the ceremony? Uh, no... I guess not." I'm still reeling at how well Gina pulled this off, and how surprised I was, and how perfect that night was. And every time I look at this ring on my finger, I am surprised again. It's gorgeous and unexpected, just the way life should be.

I wanted to take a picture of it to show you. Turns out, it's not easy to take a picture of a diamond ring. And the more I think about it, the more I think that's appropriate. The event, the gravity... it's something you'd never be able to photograph anyway.

Here's an attempt, with my iPhone:

Giovanni at 15 months

2007-07-10T08:28:00.000-07:00

Gina's nephew in his back yard in Holland.

Homeowners

2007-06-28T09:04:00.000-07:00

Look what we get the keys to July 20th:

We now (almost) own 1000 square feet of real estate in Los Angeles. It has 2 master bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 11 ft ceilings with crown molding, a small but updated kitchen with the following conveniences we don't currently enjoy: microwave, dishwasher, WASHER/DRYER. It has a "quaint" (TINY) balcony, underground parking, central air/heat, a swimming pool, and an exercise room. This happened more quickly than we could have ever imagined. We're trying not to think about the fact that we just moved into this place four months ago, or that we're more than tripling our outgoing payments every month (trust me - this isn't saying much, with how little rent we currently pay). We are only thinking of Our Home. And we're thrilled.

I feel like I've been writing this post for a year.

2007-06-06T13:09:00.000-07:00

My friend Kim and I were talking a while ago, several months ago in fact, before this little rascal came along (her beautiful baby boy Brady - her second son), about my blogging habits. She reprimanded me during one my particularly dry spells. "You need to post more." All I could say was, "Yeah."

I forget that I actually have (some) people who read this and who might want to read more of it. I finally admitted to her that I've run out of not-so-important things to talk about, and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to talk about what I really want to talk about, and in this process of losing all of the non-important things in my life, I feel like I've lost my wit, my charm, and my grasp of sentence structure and of the English language. If I weren't traveling all over the world, I'd certainly have more time to post, but what would I post? Me standing in front of the Hollywood sign? Or, more appropriately, me arm in arm with the hookers that parole my street on Friday nights?

Well, I've finally decided to come clean. The truth is, I'm ready for my life of living for myself to be over. I'm ready to live for other things - for my relationship, and for my children. Yep. Children. One of the wonderful things gina and I have in common is our strong, overwhelming desire to become parents. We also want a dog, a house, and new cars. And we're both wanting it all right now. At the same time. We can only compare it to one of those tile puzzles where's there's only one piece missing, and you just have to figure out how to, without removing any tiles, make a picture.

Recently, the conversations about kids and houses and dogs and cars has amped up quite a bit between gina and I. And we're finding we're excited, frustrated, overwhelmed, nervous, and thrilled beyond belief. But the important thing is, we're at the same place. It has taken us so long to get in the same place, geographically and mentally, and we've arrived, and it feels indescribable. It's amazing, really.

After speaking with a mortgage broker, we've determined the next step should be trying to buy something, and start putting our money into something we own as opposed to something we're renting, albiet for a ridiculously low amount of money. We're both afraid of waiting, and we're both afraid of not waiting. But the waiting finally seems more scary than the not waiting, so we feel like that's a good sign. We're also motivated by the thought of a dishwasher! And a washer/dryer! And PARKING!

More important than any of this is that we have room for our family. At this rate, we might even get married. Weird, huh? We've come a long way from band camp.

Is it me, or is this kind of weird?

2007-06-01T17:32:00.000-07:00

On my way to work this morning, I saw a Toyota Prius on the side of the highway, out of gas.

Beginning.

2007-05-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

My sister Jackie:

Still alive.

2007-05-24T13:52:00.000-07:00

I'm still alive, but very busy. Here's what has been up since Sydney:

May 4-6 - Friends from home, Jesse and Paul, visited Los Angeles and stayed with us. They're moving to Los Angeles THIS WEEKEND!! They were in town to find an apartment. They found one quickly, and it gave us the rest of the weekend to have a blast and go to Venice Beach to get gina a brand new tattoo. I'll post pictures soon. The tattoo is pretty hot. Mmm.

May 10-13 - gina and I went to Las Vegas for the weekend and met up with her brother and sister-in-law, who flew in from Cleveland. I think I won a little bit of money - I came home with only 80 dollars less than I went with, and that includes all the food we ate. Highlights included: gina WASTED, dancing at Margaritaville and trying to get random strangers to squeeze her breasts; four black jacks in a row at Jake Blues' table; hitting the "sucker bet" on $5 and winning $95; staying up all night Saturday night gambling and then driving home Sunday morning right after we left the black jack table at 7am.

May 17-21 - Headed up to Seattle for work. It was beautiful the first day, so-so the second day, and FREEZING AND RAINY the third day. I got to hang out with my friend Gina from college, so that was really fun. I got a driving tour of Seattle from she and her main man Dan, and I also got to play quite a bit wtih her dog Speck. It was good, all in all.

Here's what's coming UP:

Today-May 29 - Off to Ohio! For sister Jackie's graduation. I find that I'm looking forward to this trip more than I've looked forward to going home for a long time. I think it's because we're going home for a celebration. It's been a while since things have been happy there in Ohio. I'm looking forward to a fun party with all of my family, and I'm beyond excited that gina's able to go with me. We're seriously needing some time together, and if I have to take that in the form of a five hour flight to Ohio, I will.

May 29-June 2 - When I land in Los Angeles on May 2, I'll have about two hours to get my bags and check in for a flight to Las Vegas at about 2 that afternoon. I have four days of work in Vegas, which you'd never find me complaining about, EXCEPT that that's another week away from home. Sigh.

June 2 - I'll fly to San Diego from Vegas because on June 3, gina's running another marathon in San Diego. We drive back to LA after the marathon on June 3.

June 5 - GINA'S BIRTHDAY! On this day I will finally be able to give her the awesome gift I got her, and we are also going to see Brandi Carlile and the Indigo Girls.

Hopefully I'll have about a week off before June 14, when gina and I leave for HOLLAND for TEN DAYS! Some time will be spent working, but more time will be spent hanging out with gina's brother's family.

After Holland, it's looking like Hawaii for work...

I'll update as I can!

Sydney and Saturday

2007-05-05T08:21:00.000-07:00

I've made it back from Syndey, after a very long and uneventful and did I mention long flight back on Friday. Here are some more pictures:

Hotel:

Bondi Beach...

...and its INCREDIBLY CLEAR WATER:

Sydney Opera House and Harbour Bridge:

Skyline:

From Milson's Point...

From Mrs Macquary's Park:

The Taronga Zoo:

Ferry ride over to the zoo:

Baby Wallaby:

Koala - he was walking right towards my camera:

Meerkats - by far the animal which captivity seems to have affected the least - they were so curious and seemed so happy:

Tiger - I felt really bad for the tigers. They were obviously not pleased to be there, although I think they had been raised in captivity:

Tiger hissing at zoo visitors:

There was this little section of the zoo that you had to enter two gates to get through, but once you were inside it was a small path through this little kangaroo and wallaby habitat. It was pretty amazing.

Kangaroo:

Wallaby:

There was also this huge bird there which was not shy. Gina asked if it was threatening, and I responded with, "You see a bird that big walking towards you, you don't care what it's thinking. You get out of the way."

Even the wallaby got out of the way when it saw the bird coming - he hopped right in front of me on the path:

View of Sydney from the zoo:

I fell in love with this city. So clean and beautiful and not overcrowded. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love my job.

Steal a koala from Sydney - check.

2007-05-03T01:46:00.000-07:00

(Yes, this picture of me is really awful. But look... this photo isn't about Katie. It's about Katie with the koalas!)

Aussie Wasps

2007-05-01T03:09:00.000-07:00

The things I go through for my job... I could hear these wasps plotting to attack us. It was a narrow escape.

$ydney, Day One

2007-04-29T01:43:00.000-07:00

I left Los Angeles Friday night just before midnight. I’d been trying for a week to figure out how best to prepare for the 17 hour time difference. I decided it would be best to mentally stay on Los Angeles time until I arrived in Sydney, at which point I would just stay awake until a reasonable bedtime and thereby be incredibly sleepy.

I slept fairly solidly for the first seven hours of the flight. Don’t get me wrong – these were not seven hours of good, restful sleep, but they were better than nothing. So when I woke up, it was nearly 8am on Saturday Los Angeles time, which meant it was about 1am Sydney time on Sunday. I decided to stay awake, and I actually felt pretty good. I napped on and off for the rest of the flight, but for the most part, I was awake.

Allow me to say here that Qantas is the best airline I’ve ever flown. Moving on…

Upon arrival in Sydney, I was so excited that I didn’t really care what time it was (it was about 8am Sydney time on Sunday – 3pm Los Angeles time on Saturday). I made my decision firm to live on Sydney time starting then. I went through customs/immigration, got some cash, bought some postcards, hailed a taxi and reached the hotel. Feeling good, I imagined it must be noon by now. Nope. 9:15am.

Since breakfast is included in the cost of my room, I decided to take part in the buffet. I reasoned I should eat at that point, thereby not having to spend a nickel on lunch, and then I’d just eat dinner at a normal time. Breakfast was uneventful and a little too European for my liking (they sure like roasted tomatoes and lunch meat for breakfast), but I managed to find some stuff I like. Satiated, I went upstairs. It must be noon by now! Nope. 10:45am.

I chatted with gina for a bit – she suggested I take a nap. I was very nervous about napping because I really don’t want to be awake all night. I decided I’d go explore the area of Sydney where I am. Of course, I never get the cool skyline view. Here’s the view from my room:

I think this is the town hall:

Kind of construction-y and tame, but I like it nonetheless.

Here’s the heated outdoor pool. It’s fall here, so not too many people are swimming. And by not too many, I mean to say that no one is swimming.

The weather is gorgeous here – the leaves are orange and the sun is shining. Upper 60s. I ventured outside and around the corner and saw what would undoubtedly keep me busy until the evening:

Shopping, shopping, and more shopping. So much shopping. And this is when I thought this area of Sydney should be called $ydney. I don’t even like to shop that much, but when I’m in a city by myself, there’s not really much else to do. And this was so bloody convenient. To my dismay, a lot of the stores were stores like Borders and… um… other stores native to America that I can’t think of right now. But I managed to walk into quite a few stores. After much deliberation, I bought this bag:

As I was heading back to the hotel, I noticed there was an entrance to what looked like an underground mall or something. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I found myself underground walking through this mall that seemed to never end. I was getting a little claustrophobic and a lot dizzy. I only managed to snap this one shot, but this is what it looked like, for what seemed like miles and miles, and levels and levels:

I managed to make it outside to what I think is the town hall, and I saw this older couple feeding this crazy Australian bird:

Also:

I had to go back into the crazy dizzying mall to get back to the hotel, so I managed to make it through and buy a smoothie on the way. I snapped a few more shots outside – close-up shots of this guy painting the sidewalk:

And these cute kids playing their instruments:

I got back to the hotel, convinced it was about 5pm. Nope – 2:30pm. To pass the time, I went to the gym for an hour, came back to my room, took a long bath, uploaded the photos off the camera, wrote this long blog entry, and it’s now finally 6:00pm, which means I can feasibly order dinner and give myself two more hours before I can finally go to bed, of course not before popping a Vicodin. Please oh please let me be able to sleep.

Lessons from down under.

2007-04-28T18:53:00.000-07:00

I just landed in Sydney this morning (Saturday afternoon in USA, Sunday morning in Australia) for my next international adventure. I was thrilled to be coming here for many reasons, but mostly because the country's official language is ENGLISH! Woo hoo!

I haven't explored much yet, but I have perused the hotel's restaurant dinner menu and have decided what I will NOT be ordering:

Kangaroo loin with bush spices

Maybe the first language isn't English, because in English, that sounds disgusting.

Today's (funny) ridiculously cute video

2007-04-26T15:53:00.000-07:00

This might be officially the cutest thing I've ever seen. Be sure to watch the whole video - the best part is towards the end.

I wish I was [sic] a little bit taller.

2007-04-25T10:21:00.000-07:00

I have a few tall girl-friends, ranging from 5’11” to 6’2”. At 5’7” (maybe 5’8”) I’ve always sort of prided myself on being kind of tall. And then I met these girls. No longer do I ever think I’m tall.

I was talking to one of the shorter of my tall friends Joey, who stands at a mere 5’11”. Joey often wears heels of some sort, and on those days, I would bet my life she’s just about 7’ even. In any case, as I’m sure it often does, her height came up in conversation at work yesterday when myself, Lisa, and Joey were chatting. Joey mentioned that she was the smallest one out of her siblings.

-How tall is your sister?

-6’0.

-How tall is your brother?

-6’4.

-JESUS!

-Well, my mom is 6’2, and my dad is 6’6.

-You’re KIDDING me!

-They did meet at Tall Club.

Lisa and I looked at each other. ”Tall club?!”

Just when I thought Joey could not get any cooler.

Joey was surprised she hadn’t told me, because it’s apparently a story she shares with a lot of people. She went on to tell us that her parents met at a Tip Toppers Tall Club mixer back in the day and well, the rest is history. She then told us that she tried to become a member but she’s too short! Women have to be 6 feet and men have to be 6’4”. She reminded them that she was born of two card-holding members, and shouldn’t that make her a legacy? Nope, too short.

We felt bad that someone as cool and as tall as Joey would be denied membership to any club, so we made her an Honorable Mention certificate for being ALMOST tall enough. We also put a tag line – Drink your milk and reapply next year! She loved it, and I believe she takes comfort in the fact that to us, she’s practically the president of the Tip Toppers Tall Club.

The world is a better place.

2007-04-24T08:14:00.000-07:00

Here's gina holding Brady Stewart! Mama Kim is healthy and happy to not be pregnant anymore. Brady is huge and cute as ever, with a head full of strawberry blonde hair. He was in a hurry to get out - four hours once labor was induced, and only a mere 45 minutes after I got to the hospital.

Amazing.

UPDATE (already)

2007-04-18T10:34:00.000-07:00

About five minutes after I hit "publish" on the last post, Kim called me. She's getting induced! Yay for the Peanut! Stay tuned for pictures of the new boy.

Playing God.

2007-04-18T09:47:00.001-07:00

My friend Kim is about to give birth to her second son. I was at her first son's birth two years ago, which was easily the most amazing experience I've ever had, and I can't imagine anything being better except the birth of my own child. So naturally, I was thrilled when she invited me to be present at the birth of Baby Number 2, aka, The Peanut.

The Peanut is due on April 22nd. With my work schedule being as unpredictable as it is (it's not totally unimaginable to be asked today to leave tomorrow for a shoot on Friday), I've been carefully scheduling things in my life so as not to miss The Peanut's birth-day. I booked a shoot at the end of April so that it would make sense for me to stay in town this weekend. A group of old friends picked this coming weekend as the weekend to go camping because it was the only weekend I could assure them I'd be in town. I warned them I might be in the hospital with Kim, but I would try my hardest to make it to Woods Valley Kampground with a K.

Well, the date is fast approaching. Two weeks ago, Kim's doctor warned her she might go early. Kim was all for it, as long as it was after the 15th. The doctor warned her it might even be earlier than that. It's the 18th, and still no labor. I am sending all energy possible to the world for the Peanut to arrive early, because... well, because it would just be so convenient if he came before Friday. Also, it's not totally selfish - Kim is on the verge of miserable, completely ready to not be pregnant anymore. But mostly, I'm impatient and very eager to meet the new baby.

The reason I'm posting this story today is that today is her doctor's appointment, in which she will ask to be induced. The doctor's appointment was at 9am, and it's pushing 10am, and I still haven't heard from her. I'm on the edge of my seat with my phone in my hand, waiting. Excited, thrilled, and wondering if I'm this antsy about my friend giving birth, how I will be when it's my turn.

Today's Funny Video.

2007-04-17T19:02:00.000-07:00

This is a new segment here at It's Katie, everybody! wherein I post a hilarious video that I've come across for your enjoyment. Please don't get too excited - this might be the only time I ever do this.

Rent's due

Universal language.

2007-04-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

Found at the base of a statue in Curaco.

Enjoying baseball games with other people's children.

2007-04-16T11:58:00.000-07:00

Gina and I went to a Dodgers game this weekend with two of Gina's friends. Gina and I loooove baseball games, and we're always looking for new traditions to start. We decided to go big this time and we got the $25 tickets instead of the cheapy seats. We had fantastic seats behind home plate - kind of up high, but they offered a great view:

We sat next to this 4 and a half year old little boy and his dad, and right around the fifth inning, this little boy decided that he really liked Gina. He had his eye on her ever since she bought a bag of peanuts in the 2nd inning. When he finally got the courage to ask for a peanut, the four of us had already finished the bag. Even though he was bummed out, he didn't hesitate to chat it up with us for the rest of the game. He even played along when we were giving bunny ears to the people in front of us as they tried to take pictures of themselves. He also helped Gina flag down the cotton candy guy, by standing on his seat and yelling, "Hey cotton candy guy!!"

A few minutes after we made our newest friend, another little boy came down to our seats with his mom and introduced himself to our little boy. The new little boy and our little boy were the same age, and they were talking about how they're going to kindergarten in the fall. As the conversation waned, the new little boy started saying, "I know lots of stuff. I know the baseball player's names, and I know all the signs and stuff..." The mom smiled and put her arm around him and said, "And the next thing we're going to teach you is humility. Enjoy the game! Nice to meet you all."

Because the Dodgers were losing so badly, Gina's friends asked if we would be willing to leave early. I said no way Jose, as I bought the tickets and growing up as a Cleveland Indians fan, I'm wired to think that the best baseball happens in the last inning. The little boy overheard our conversation and looked up at Gina: "Are you guys leaving?" We promised him we'd stay until the end and he informed us that he was staying until the end, too.

Well, the Dodgers failed to pull anything out, losing 7-2. We sat for a little while after the game, letting people file out before us. The little boy said his goodbyes to us, and his dad picked him up to carry him to the car. As they were walking away, the little boy grinned and waved and called out, "Let me know if you dream about baseball games!"

Movies

2007-03-27T08:48:00.000-07:00

We went downtown this weekend, taking public transportation the whole way! Gasp! Per usual, we learned that public transportaiton in Los Angeles isn't really ideal. We waited for 20-30 minutes for a bus that metro.net said would come, and it never did. I have a feeling it was because three blocks of downtown were blocked off because of a film shoot. This annoyed me at first, until I noticed they were filming a rainy scene, and then I was riveted by the rain crane and all of the extras walking around carrying umbrellas. I couldn't stop looking.

If you click on the photo, you'll be directed to flickr.com, where I've added a few notes on the photo.

View from the Jewelry District in downtown Los Angeles.

2007-03-26T17:09:00.000-07:00

I never get sick of that skyline.

Before & After.

2007-03-22T08:55:00.000-07:00

I finally have a day off and have decided to post some before and after pictures of the apartment(s). I took quite a few pictures at the old apartment, but looking at them, there are very few I'm willing to share. I'm not sure how we managed there for a whole year. But boy-oh-boy, it was worth it.

Here is the "computer desk/dining room table" which lived in the kitchen in the old place. The table was given to me by KTP about four or five years ago, when I was making very little money and living by myself. It's been a great table - we have no plans to get rid of it. But it's moving to storage for now.

Here's the printer, on top of a lovely rubbermaid drawer set I proudly purchased in my younger days:

In the new apartment, we actually have a separate space for eating:

...and working:

And even some room for the Mana Mana guy and the Snowdens:

Sedative.

2007-03-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

We finally bought a dining room table this past weekend at this fantastic furniture store called Target. It's a beautiful dark wood, counter height table with ridiculously comfortable chairs. Since it's arrival, we've been enjoying dinners at it every night. We set the table, the salt and pepper is accessible, and we actually talk to each other, instead of staring at the television while we eat. There have been significantly less spills because, well, a table is actually meant to hold food and drink, unlike the arm of a futon, which virtually promises bi-weekly spills accompanied by unnecessary but obligatory cussing.

To celebrate the new table, we opened a bottle of wine, a yummy Shiraz. We've been each having a glass of wine and a glass of water with dinner. This makes us both very pleasant to be around... I'm not sure if the heavenly feeling in the apartment is the result of the table or the wine. In any case, there is a very significant side effect to this increased wine drinking. I have been falling dead asleep on the couch at 9pm every night. This is what a half a glass of wine with dinner is doing to me.

Meanwhile, it took an Ambien AND a Vicodin to put me to sleep in Holland, and only for six hours at that. I'm thinking I should start requesting a higher per diem when I travel internationally, solely to support the glass(es) of red wine I'm convinced I need to start ordering with dinner.

This Charming Man

2007-03-17T08:27:00.000-07:00

I finally got a chance to play with iMovie. Here's a little thing I made using the video feature on my Canon Power Shot.