Saturday, August 30, 2003

*i haven't neglected all my 'five questions' interviews. read my remaining answers here*. meanwhile...

eloquence. admissions. sadness. joy.

i ask myself "why?" a lot. why was given the life that i was? why am i going through the things i am? why do we take a liking to certain places, people or things? great big, general "why" this and thats... and then the eternal list of why this and thats tailored to my life in particular. why do find myself without a job all the time? why do i feel as though i've never had enough rest? why can't i make great changes in my life? why do i have such difficulty in managing finances? why do i procrastinate? i could go on with this list for hours. you'll be pleased to find i won't, though.

life is not easy. nor is it fair. both are lessons i vividly recall being introduced to in childhood. and i've been lucky--i've not known the kind of hardships or sufferings that many people have had to face. i am the product of two smart, accomplished people who were wise enough to know at one point that their marriage was not successful; there had been no shouting, no cruelty, no violence. and they both soon after found great love again, with people who obviously better suit them. behind my parents are the great stories of struggle and achievement that their own families bring to my personal history. immigration, illness, war, poverty, ambition, love. i don't know nearly enough about my family, and i'm rather shameful of that. but i'm so thankful to them, for allowing me to be here, now.

i think a lot lately about how displeased i am with the times we live in. you can't make a phone call to a company without pressing buttons and hearing an automated voice. few people get up to let the elderly have a seat on the bus--there's just so little courtesy. it's who you know, how much you've got, and what you look like. movies are all special effects and sex; when it comes to television i am in mourning for the death of creativity--have we just simply told all the stories there are to tell, and that's why we have this "reality" crap passing for entertainment? and money... dear god, i wonder why if money doesn't buy happiness, why is it that not having it causes sadness? it's no longer possible for a family to live on a single income--worse yet, it's not really possible for a single person to live on a single income. and the things we want, the things kids see advertised and must have, rather than just run outside and play in their backyards with nothing more than their energy and imagination! and i'm no exception--i have a significant list of material items i'm convinced owning will make my life better! we've all become victims of systems of paperwork and discipline. meaning, you can't escape your credit report, your income taxes, your job references, your bank account, your criminal history, the details of your sexual history. it's hard enough to get ahead--it's even harder to pull yourself up from the depths.

ah, the depths! that's where you've found me. i'm at the strangest sort of crossroads in my life. never have i been so full of ambition and belief in my potential and abilities. i see great, great things for me ahead. but they're ahead right now, and there's such an awful lot i have to get through first. so while i'm in this strange place of focus and joy, i'm also in this strange place of utter chaos and sadness. and here i go, wondering why it is i'm here, and what it's all about.

i get a lot of praise from friends and strangers about this apparent ability i have to weather the storms, so to speak. i'm told i handle things well, and that considering all that's been thrown at me, it's no wonder i have trouble sleeping at night, it's no wonder i get bouts of sadness, it's amazing how strong i am, and so on. and things do keep happening--mundane run-of-the-mill troubles, or great big i-could-just-kick-myself kinds of things. progressively my handling seems to get better; when i discovered my car had been taken away friday morning i got teary eyed, made the necessary phone calls, got a little shaky, and then heard the sound of my own laughter. yes! i can laugh at myself. i think we really have to. and move forward. you see, that's the joy in me. the looking ahead to better things. the fact that this will make such a riveting 'down on my luck' part of my life story, especially when i'm being interviewed by oprah winfrey and my book is one of her club selections. i believe in things like that. i have to.

when i ask the why, why, why's all the time i try to remember that this life is a gift. that for some reason i get to try out this body, this mind, this time and place for size, and make a go of it. that it's not easy--anything worth having or being or doing really shouldn't be easy, i suppose. that i have the strength of two family trees behind me to keep me rooted. that i come home everyday to two fascinating, engaging, warm and loving housemates who do what they can to take care of me, and happily allow me to care for them in return, each of us in the only ways we know how. that i have great friends who love me dearly. that i have people to whom i look up to, who inspire me, whom i model myself after for whatever absurd reasons i might never understand. there's magic to life, and a joy in living it. remembering that gets me through the awful patches.

i'm not so proud of some of my choices of late, and i'm not foolish enough to assert that i'm a victim, and that i'm not partially to blame for the predicaments i find myself in day after damn day. and then there are some things in my life of which i am extremely proud of. great, great things, and also some very small moments.

a couple of weeks ago i found myself teaching an art class to a table full of adults. the topic was picasso, and i'd not known much about the artist before i gathered my research. but i had enough to go on, and a great idea for how to achieve a picasso-esque effect in the medium we were using. the class ran a couple of hours, and during that time i realized that i was helping these people express themselves artistically. i was the person in charge of their confidence for that small part of their lives. they were creating with my guidance, and looking to me for help, support, approval. it was a delicious thrill, and it signalled to me: "you are capable of doing great things." you see, i'd spent my adult life telling myself that it wasn't okay to be a talented artist, writer or performer. i'm just now giving myself permission to be an artist, a writer, and a performer. and of my talents in those arenas--i'm so very proud. and i'll admit, i don't much know how to do anything else as well. me and the average monkey can punch a cash register or file some papers, but, ah, in the creative world--there i have something to offer. now i just have to create the opportunity for me to do so.

i'm sad these days, more frequently than i'd like to be. i toss and turn at night because i'm so very preoccupied with making ends meet. thank god i have no children to care for, and i don't know how those people with children so selflessly provide for them. i wouldn't be surprised if i never had children--i know myself a little too well, and, besides, this world is crowded enough as it is. i mope a lot, i take these long dramatic looks from my balcony and think too hard about all sorts of things. i've made it through to the end of this school quarter by the skin of my teeth. i'm still dreadfully 'last minute' about everything in life, except perhaps in my indulgent behavior. but i'm learning. i'm learning a lot about life, and even more about my character. i'm a work in progress, and i need some improving. some things i've got down pat, and some, well, let's see if time and hard work improve them. but i refuse to give up. and, believe you me, i want to give up, all the time. i just want to quit, to stop trying. and then that little voice in my head tells me to shut up. it says, "don't you dare give up or give in. your life has hardly begun. there is adventure, loss, love, success, achievement to look forward to. yes, forward. look in that direction! you may never know why you're here, why it's two-thousand-and-three and not, perhaps, nineteen-forty-one. these people who remind you how strong you are, how talented you are, how loving you are...listen to them. and, yes, take inspiration from your heroes, and let them color your life, but don't try to be them, and don't look backwards and get lost in the what-ifs! be you! you!"

i wanted to come to the keyboard with something eloquent today. and i had to make some admissions, though they are scant of pure detail they are admissions just the same. to tell you how much sadness sits like a fog around me, but, in turn, how the fog can lift and i can experience so much joy. writing, i've had to allow, is my lifeline. it is what i do, and, time after time it's what saves me.

don't ask me why.


Friday, August 29, 2003

go on, i dare you!

make one of your interview questions be: "have you ever had your car repossessed?"

...because today i have whole new answer.


Thursday, August 28, 2003

she asked first

because eelnahs asked first out of my recent batch of interviewers i will post my answers to her questions today:

1. what is your favorite place to be when you're alone?
honestly, i don't like to have people with me when i'm clothes shopping, particularly if it involves trying things on. but if you mean to say where do i go when i really want to be alone i would have to say my room, curled up with the cat, some snacks and a movie, or if i'm out i like to be alone in bookstores and libraries so i can take things in at my own pace. and, i think i actually prefer to take trips alone, even to be alone once i'm at the destination.

2. what was your first car?
1984 honda accord, white. a real piece of crap that i didn't take care of. slowly parts of her began to die off--power windows, tape deck, engine. her name was gertie, short for gertrude, because she was an old lady with spunk.

3. explain the worst date you've been on?
well, how can i top "scary date" and his enthusiastic and un-coaxed display of, um, er, affection on the couch? my worst interaction kind of date was a couple of years ago when this one guy wouldn't shut up about how much he loved scooters and wanted to go to italy to see more scooters, and i think i said something about breakfast foods at some point and he managed to tie that in to the theme of scooters. i also recall he offered to finish what was left on my plate during the meal, but i could just be making that part up. but he'd seem likely to do so. he was really in to me, and i broke his poor scooter-obsessed heart over the phone.

4. name 3 guilty pleasures and why they're a guilty pleasure?
feel free to file these under bad habits i can't break myself of:
a) smoking, obviously.
b) the internet
c) eating in bed

5. explain a moment when your parents were proud of you?
i am lucky in that my mom and step-dad (whom i refer to as my 'parents') are proud of me every single day of the year, and rarely miss an opportunity to tell me so. aside from the typical graduating from high school kinds of scenarios, i know that my decision to return to school made them proud, any of my stage performances (plays or improv) have made them proud, and my job promotions. i think that they are happy that i am individualistic, ambitious, talented and open-minded, and they support me in whatever i do.


coming attractions

i've neglected to post my answers to all the interview questions that have been coming in over the past couple of days. i assure you that very soon you can see what i've been asked by eelnahs, texas t-bone, anne in nyc, dahl, and april, and my brilliant, witty and profound answers. i feel i am conditioning myself for future appearances on major network talk shows. and i love to talk about myself. there are three reasons why i am not posting those interviews right now, though:

1. the answers are typed out in word on my home computer, and i am on campus right now.
2. i am falling over with exhaustion from having written two research papers late last night and early this morning.
3. i am smugly pleased with my last post, and want to be sure it is seen by those it was directed to (as in certain asshats and tools).

that said, i am going to attempt to keep my eyes open through my break, through the last regular class meeting of my evil american lit class, and through the drive home. for your entertainment i have linked to the interviews i sent out to other bloggers on the right. i thoroughly enjoy asking questions. anyone else want in? just let me know, and i'll bring it on!

i'm tempted to sign off with something blase and ridiculous, like "tootles"...


Tuesday, August 26, 2003

the things i apparently do when i'm not around

well, i've been reluctant to do this for some time now, but it's finally time to make this public proclamation. things have just gone too far.

apparently, things that have happened at my place of former employment are my fault, despite the fact that i no longer work there, or even go in there. my former boss (via someone else) suggested that i actually go in there on the weekends to delete files off the computer network. she really should know where i am on the weekends since she reads my blog daily. from work. if i haven't made it abundantly clear, i have a little thing called a site meter. it tells me who your internet provider is ( and it tells me your IP settings ( and what version of windows you use (95 or 98, depending). it tells me how many page views you do, how many minutes and at what time you're on. sometimes you guys check it three or four times a day! i'm so delighted to know i remain so interesting, yet unemployable, to you.

you would think that the girl who got bumped up in the ranks in my absence (though not in my exact job, to be clear) would spend her workday working, earning her increased wages, rather than using the computer to read about me, or to cruise the livejournals of her pals. did you not learn anything from my example? and to my former boss...yes, you, the one who couldn't just pull me aside to have a chat or chastise me rather than turn me in and turn me loose... i know damn well it's you on there too! and then you have the nerve to accuse me of hanging out there and 'doing' things? you should know where i am all the time, since you're one of my biggest fans!

and you know what's ironic? the one person i still talk to who works there is my beloved twin ashley. and know what? that bitch doesn't even read my blog. she doesn't have to! we talk every damn day.

so, dear people i used to work with... i think it's high time you got it out of your heads that i am the cause of things that go awry there. i don't come in and take money from the register (as implied by the most recently hired fellow)! i don't mess with the computers. i don't spend hours painting things that i don't pay for. so give it up and get over it. and try, for the love of god, to give up reading my blog. if you miss me so damned much, call me up. hire me. i'd be happy to freelance for you.

but, please... enough is enough.


rules and replies: a tasty treat!

i am happily playing the five questions interactive blogging game. today i will share with you my answers to the insightful questions posed by two of my all time favorite blogging women.

and so, first, the rules:

if you would like to play along and have me interview you....the following rules apply:

1. if you want to participate, leave me a comment saying, "interview me."
2. i will respond by asking you five questions - each person's will be different.
3. you will update your journal with the answers to the questions.
4. you will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. when others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

see? it's simple!

and now, the questions:

round one—courtesy of sweet jezebel

1. how soon after a girl gets her heart broken should she jump into a new relationship?
how soon should anyone, really? well, first you probably want to get some hot, no-strings attached lovin’ under your belt. just so that you can have some sex and get your angst out. and then you need to spend some time alone. how long, well, that depends on how your heart got broken (as in, did you see it coming? were you compromising your character in the relationship? were you in it just to be in it?) and also how long you were together. i think there is a good long while a girl needs to just be her own girl, and be cautious. for me, this is the first time in my life i haven’t wanted a boyfriend. i can’t be anyone’s girlfriend right now. i love intimacy, and i’m happy to have it with whom i have it, but i need to work on me, the whole person, before i dive in to another pond. and it’s not just re-coup time from a recent heartbreak; it’s more like a realization that’s come from an adulthood to this point of bad,or unhealthy, relationships. and i won’t accept anything less than what i deserve, on anyone else’s terms.

2. when money is tight.... do you eat pot pies or ramen noodles?
neither! when i lived in new york city i lived on ramen noodles (10 for $1 at duane reade) and ever since my return to l.a. i vowed never to eat ramen again. it just makes me feel cold, hungry, poor and frustrated. ramen = poverty to me. i’ve eaten it on a couple occasions, but out of convenience. and, honestly, i’m not a big pot pie fan. they usually have little green peas in them, and i loathe little green peas. and gravy. i don’t like gravy. when money is tight, and i can’t have all the yummy food i want, i eat spaghetti, and, as i have had to do lately, i eat the non-perishable stock—those cans and boxes of starchy things that will keep fresh until i drop dead. and then i bitch and complain about it. and then i remember that all things considered, i have it pretty good. and then i shut up.

3. you've found the man of you dreams, and he tells you he has an incurable std, such as hepatitis c or genital herpes (yes, i know one will kill you and one won't, but just play along, ok?), do you continue the relationship and most likely contract an std, or end it immediately?
if he were truly the man of my dreams (which means he’s ready, willing and able to fall in love with me) then i would not abandon the relationship. i guess we’d use condoms our whole life, and that would have to be okay. as long as he didn’t have pus on his lips. because i sure as hell don’t want to kiss open sores.

4. are women really better multi-taskers than men?
i rarely think in terms of gender. i think some people multi-task better than others. i think some women are more organized than men, especially when it comes to making schedules or plans. i know i’m pretty good at drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette, blog-surfing and having instant message conversations all at one time. girl power? hmm… not sure.

5. what food did you absolutely detest growing up, to the point that you would gag when your mom placed it on the table, do you absolutely love now? anything?
yes, without hesitation, avocadoes (especially guacamole) and black olives. i will, however, never ever ever eat little green peas or liver. forgeddaboutit.

round two—courtesy of fish

1. what is your favorite article of clothing and what would joan and melissa rivers have to say about it?
i actually had to get up off my ass and take a walk to my dressing area to see what my closets held. and, truthfully, those rivers women would have a field day with my lack of fashion. now, don’t get me wrong, i have some nice pieces that go well with each other, that I pair with great shoes and a nice, fun, handbag. but lately i’ve abandoned the conventions of style and popular trends and have gone for comfort. my favorite pants are my khakis, but they don’t catch any special attention. my shoes are flip-flops most of the time. i’ve developed a sort of fondness for generic men’s white t-shirts. and i’m broke. so, my favorite article of clothing is something few people get to see… it’s a dkny black lace camisole that i wear in bed either to feel yummy on my own, or with some lucky young man. it’s basic, it’s classic, it shows off my assets, and i feel damn good in it. and i don’t give a hoot what those mouthy media whores say!

2. overachiever, underachiever or somewhere in the middle?
i would have to say that i think like an overachiever, but apply the effort of an underachiever. as in, i know i am fully capable of getting stellar grades on things like papers, but i can’t for the life of me be bothered to pay them any attention until the last possible minute. and then i get decent, but not stellar, grades, and sort of shrug it off with a “whatever” and go on with my life. for those things that i am passionate about (creative writing, ceramics painting, or being a know-it-all in certain topics) i am an absolute overachiever, and i attack with full force.

3. if someone were to make a movie of your life story (never mind if it would be a big yawner), who would play you?
this is such a fantastic question, because i have the best answer. me! i would play me! punkin the little actress would have to go joan and melissa style and portray herself in the tv movie of the week about her fascinating life (i guess it takes a mouthy media-whore to know one-see question one). some adorable little unknown moppet can play me in my youth, and then i’ll take over and play the juicy, scandalous, saucy, sexy, adventurous parts.

4. do you consider yourself “handy”? (can you fix a leaky faucet, change a tire, put together ikea furniture, etc)
oh good golly! i’m a lot handier than i let on to be. when it comes to wrenches i know my monkey from an allen, and I know a screwdriver can be a flathead, a phillips head, or a drink with vodka and orange juice. i’ve assembled a few too many ikea numbers on my own, i’ve hung pictures and shelves, and i’ve set up all my own electronics. now, if there’s a guy around, i’ll admit I’ll take the girly way out and let him strut his stuff. and i’d rather pay some fellow to check my oil and the likes. in a pinch, yes, i can change a tire. though by no means do i give tim the toolman a run for his money, but i do know my way around a home depot.

5. are you emotive? do people know when you are happy/upset?
i have one of those faces where every little thing i’m feeling or thinking is showing. my mouth is sort of turned down naturally, though, so i can be perfectly content and still appear to be miffed or ruffled. it’s probably just sun in my eyes. i am borderline over-emotive. i make faces, and deliberately so—i use my face to communicate a lot of things, like distaste, disdain, amusement, rapture, boredom, superiority, coolness, delight. it makes things pretty clear to whomever i’m speaking with, but it has also gotten me in heaps of trouble. (in elementary school i was constantly being called out for rolling my eyes. sheesh. well, excuuuuuuuse me for living. puh-leeeeze!)

so those were my first sets of five. anyone want to be interviewed in return, i'm ready with questions for you.

and now, thanks to eelnahs, i can say: i am katharine hepburn

eelnahs sent around a fun email quiz that tells you what celebrity personality you have, and without having to cheat, i selected my answers, scored a 43, and scrolled down and saw that i was none other than miss katharine hepburn. well! i'll tell you now what i told miss eelnahs... that just made my day! thanks, eelnahs! i'll be answering her five questions tomorrow!

yours truly,
punkin--but feel free to call me kate, kath, kat, katharine...


Monday, August 25, 2003


ok, i'll 'fess up. i went to san francisco this weekend. i'd planned to go for a few weeks now, and then thought better, and then thought again and wound up riding the bus friday afternoon to the city by the bay.

and i had a fabulous time.

now, of course, having ridden the bus (and, really, this seems to me the way in which sinners are transported to hell, because it was the most god-awful eight hours of my life) overnight from san francisco to los angeles, i feel like death warmed over. but, in thinking of the fabulous time i had, it was worth it.

i spent the weekend in the company of the v.d.b., which is always fun, and most always interesting. we spent a couple of hours walking around golden gate park in the arboretum and the japanese garden, taking in the most breathtakingly beautiful day, seeing the flora and fauna, enjoying life. we rode out to berkeley, and met up with some of his fantastic friends (one of whom is a new blogger, she just started last week!) and had a group effort bbq. a few of us ventured back over the bridge and down to fort mason to see an improv show--this was my main excuse for going up north, but, hey, who needs an excuse to visit that wonderful city!? the show featured three improvisers the v.d.b. and i know from improv down here in la la land, and so after the show we surprised the hell out of them when we went to say hello. i was delighted and amused by the comments of one, who said to me: "hello! you're totally out of context here!" and, i guess he was right.

after the show we made our way to some bar in another neighborhood to wish someone i don't know a happy birthday. it was a hideous scene, complete with trendy bar types and people in hipster cowboy regalia. i hightailed it for the door to have a smoke, and soon after my companions announced that they loathed the place as much as i did, and why don't we head home. and so we did.

the rest of saturday night and the majority of sunday were spent lying down, and i will allow you take that as you will, rightfully so, though i will say that a lot of music was listened to, a lot of television was watched, and conversation was had. (a thousand apologies to my dear nicole and jennn, whom i neglected to ring up mainly out of exhaustion and also because i'd forgotten to charge my phone battery--but, never fear, ladies, i will be back up that way sooner than later!) when we finally dragged our sorry asses outside it was a cool and mellow sunset-time, and we grabbed a bite and then got me on my way back to the bus depot.

i was sad to leave san francisco, because that city is so rejuvenating, and utterly fascinating. i love the layout, the nature, the water, the people, the feeling there. the view of the city coming in on the bay bridge made it worth the price of admission alone. but, i am happy to be home. home to my piles of work and homework, to my roommates, to my friends, to my cat and to my stacks of katharine hepburn movies. i have so much to do this week that my head is spinning! but, don't worry--it won't spin right off!

so that's my confession. i snuck away for an outstanding weekend, and a much-needed one at that. spent quality time with quality people. and you can't beat that.

stay tuned... sweet jezebel has sent me my 'five questions' and i'm getting ready to respond. i'm grateful for the questions, because this week my brain is going to turn to mush and all i'll be capable of discussing are select writings of joan didion, charlotte perkins gilman and mental illness in the late 19th century, the marketing projects i'm working on, the art and life of van gogh, and, as always, the life of katharine hepburn. you'll all be appreciative of the fact that i hope to make no further references to those topics. (i said i hope, i can't promise you.)

and with that, i bid you a fond farewell. happy monday!


Thursday, August 21, 2003

"listen to the song of life"

and, my friends, that's just what i plan to do.


Wednesday, August 20, 2003

"do you want to hear the story of my life? i presume that's why i'm here."

you'll think i'm awfully silly, but, truth be told, for as long as i can remember i've always thought of things in my life in terms of how they would read in the (auto)biography of my life. while poor anne frank thought: "who will ever read this diary?" i wrote mine thinking: "now, how will this come across to my readers years from now?" sad, a little funny, but oh-so-true.

when i was a teenager, and slightly (but only slightly) more dramatic than i am today, i decided that the title for my autobiography would be a line from the big ballad in the play a chorus line: "kiss today goodbye". this was because i was mad about showtunes, but also because i had a tendency for melodrama. i came up with the title, i remember, one summer afternoon as i rode in a tiny propeller plane from bellingham to seattle. (from seattle i would connect on to los angeles. the routing of the trip was thanks to the fact that july had been spent in toronto with my dad, and while he footed the bill for that leg of the trip, the vancouver leg had to be handled separately, and the best and cheapest way to do that was to have my grandparents drive across the border to bellingham to get me. what happened on the flights between toronto-los angeles-seattle a month earlier i'll save for another time; we're talking airport horror stories here.)

...anyhow, i was leaving my beloved nana and grandpa, after spending my usual month of summer vacation with them in suburban vancouver, canada. i had, and still have, a rather fierce affection for those summers. leaving them was always traumatic for me, and as a child i'd flown home from vancouver to toronto, alone, bawling the entire flight. once i'd even held the flight up because i'd refused to calm down, and wanted to say goodbye one more time. then, when i got home to toronto, much to the irritation of my parents, i'd continued to sob, so much so, in fact, that i threw up. what a delightful little girl!

but i was older, now, on this trip, and a little wobbly-chinned with tears brimming in my eyes, but no hysterics. just angst, in the form of punkin the little actress-to-be, writing long passages in her journal, listening to show tunes on her beat up little walkman, and thinking how this would play out in her autobiography. if i remember correctly, around this time in school we were asked to submit, for our first assignment in an english class, a piece of autobiographical writing. i was absolutely thrilled. a chance to write the story of me?

for your reading pleasure, i will give to you excerpts from this relic, which i found among my things today.



Opportunity. Writing an autobiography is just the chance that everyone needs. Why? It would be typical to say "just because", but I almost enjoy writing about myself.
"Kiss Today Goodbye" is what I call this, then, the beginning of something I may finish later. The title seems sort of depressing, but it describes me. I chose that title as I flew away from my dear family in Vancouver this September 2nd. It's part of a song called "What I did for Love", which is from A Chorus Line. (I adore musicals!)
Me? No, it's not a question, it's in fact more of a statement. Me, that's who I am. But not all the time. Quite often I become Lxxxxxx Gxxxxx, a well known and respected actress, married, with some children. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not schizophrenic or anything like that. I call myself creative.
...but often I find myself wishing that I was someone else. This makes me sound unhappy. Don't get me wrong, I am! What makes me happy is the aggregate (right word?) sum of a lot of things. Family. Friends. School. Acting. The other people.
A ha! I knew they'd show up sometime. The other people! I've never phrased it quite like that before. My favourite people. (Note the "u" in favourite, I'm Canadian 100%).
I'm an actress. I act at every chance I get. Did you see me as "Julia" in The Good Doctor? I take acting lessons at the Pasadena Playhouse. (I doubt that you saw Flight 50/50, which was our play.) I've been nominated for Tonys, Emmys, Oscars, Golden Globes--oops. That's later. Not yet. Hey, Lxxxxxx Gxxxxx, welcome to Sophomore English, right now you're Lxxxxxx Nxxxxx, student extraordinaire.
Acting is really important to me. Almost dominant. I love to watch my "faves" at work. I WORSHIP old movies. For instance, on AMC today at 2 p.m. is Stage Door, from 1937. 3 of my "faves" are in it, Lucille Ball, Ginger Rogers, and Katharine Hepburn.
I love to read. Especially biographies. Last Wednesday or Thursday I read One More Time by Carol Burnett. (You guessed it, she's a "fave".) It was terrific. I realized that we shared a lot of the same feelings.
Okay, change of subject. I find the suggestions on the board very intriguing. Drugs? No way. Catholic Bashing? Never heard of it. I had Jewish upbringing, but right now I call myself neutral. The BS of church, temple, etc. gets on my nerves. KCET? Oh, yeah, that's PBS. I don't watch it, but, hey, there's nothing wrong with it....Sports? Hmm--PE Class? Does that count? The best is baseball. I play (not in Calif.) and watch (Go Blue Jays!) Cheating? On what? Boyfriend. Ha, that's a laugh. In school? Um, I don't, it's the brain-dead morons who get in to that.
Oh, I see you have "Why do I exist?" on the board. Believe me, if I knew that, I wouldn't be here now.
Speaking of right now, I could be at home, watching Regis & Kathie Lee. ... A lot of times I wish I was somewhere else. But now I'm glad to be here. I love writing. I'm glad we've begun with writing. I've got 328 lines of my book Bring Me Back the Music on my computer. It's coming along well.
Time to end. I bet if you gave us 30 pages to fill, I would. I've barely scratched the surface.
Note-to all out there-someone thinks you're special--
There's a lot of people I think are special too--
Off to snack--

Lxxxxxx Gxxxxx

well, i never did finish that sappy-titled book i'd started writing. i left out the duller parts, although you may have found the whole thing to be dull. i remain fascinated with myself, naturally. i think it's because, fundamentally, i haven't changed much since i was fourteen. (yes, for the love of god, i was fourteen when i wrote that!) later that school year i was given a part in our school's spring production of stage door (the play is vastly different from the movie--thanks to the behind the scene doings of ms. rogers and ms. hepburn, i've since discovered--but, oh well), making my little programming note prophetic in a way. and funny, since i taped it from AMC that very day, and just popped that very same tape in the vcr a couple of weeks ago.

i think i still am that starry eyed teenager. even my writing style is the same, which is comforting. in all its sloppy sophomore year handwriting, it still had no spelling or grammatical errors. and, as i would for the whole year in this class, i received an A, 30/30. (this teacher adored me, and often gave me scores of 55/50 or 22/20 on my writing assignments. which is why, when i get handed a paper back, like yesterday, with an 82 on it, i think "don't you know who i am? i don't get low grades!" they, apparently, didn't get the memo.)

so here's to me! here's to the story of my life! though right now this chapter might read: 'august 2003, hot, tense and stressful', it's still a part of who i am. that silly, starstruck, indulgent, prosaic, melodramatic, charming, engaging, creative girl who once upon a time, twelve years ago, looked to the past, present and future, not much unlike how i do now.


Monday, August 18, 2003

from the desk of the geeky little punkin:
an ode to the things that have made me happy of late

to the central branch of the los angeles public library--
you are like the shopping mall mecca of books to borrow, filled with more volumes than imaginable, enough to make my head spin and my arms heavy from what i've pulled from the shelves. in fact, i cleared almost an entire shelf from one section, and, without a backwards glance i went through the delightful fun of 'self check-out' and got to play with laser scanners in order to claim my loot. you have a staff of nice helpful people who do what they can to help you look for an obscure piece on literary criticism. you have a room that's crammed with videos and dvds to borrow, though i had to leave today with a whispered promise "i'll be back when i have time to watch movies". central branch, all the floors and rooms and wings and escalators and shelves of glorious books, i love you!

to the little chickens on sale, and to my ability to roast them--
i've never been happier to purchase poultry, then to take it home, doll it up, and let it roast to tasty perfection, all the while honing my bare-bones cooking skills, and listening to my favorite radio station that plays all standards and big band classics. though looking at that chicken body in the fridge is kind of strange, i'm realizing how i can save my money and eat well for days. delish! recipe here.

to the creepy guy at the local indie video store--
for if it weren't for you butting in front of me and making an ass of yourself, the nice clerk wouldn't have felt bad, and, after apologizing to me, giving me my videos for free! yes, punkin scored "on the house" videos, letting her save her money, again, and having the pleasure of watching dragon seed (where only a third of the chinese peasants portrayed were asian of any kind) and mary of scotland (where only a third of the so-called scottish portrayed spoke with a trace of a scottish accent)! what an honor!

to my bobby pins--
the best $1.99 spent on myself in recent history. for letting me do cute things with my sassy red hair.

to teatime--
my delightful new ritual that i partake in daily, part in tribute to god knows what, part in order to create some routine in my scattered life, and part to give me an excuse to eat cookies before dinnertime.

to all these things, i raise my glass (or cup of tea) to you, in salute!
yours ever so sincerely,


Sunday, August 17, 2003

sunday morning: coffee and a cigarette

my weekend has been lived in the vain attempt to successfully merge the words "home" and "work" into a compound word and concept of many meanings. i have just done some school "homework" (under the auspices of a deadline for a dreaded group project, leaving me to ask, "why do college professors get us all grouped off like a bunch of grade-schoolers?"), and yesterday i made some attempts to clean my living space, including the evil task of laundry.

my weekend technically began on wednesday afternoon, since i did not have class on thursday (that's 'class' at school, not 'class' the colloquialism of 'distinction' per the dictionary) and has stretched on to include friday, saturday, today, and, well, tomorrow, too. don't go thinking i've been sitting around peeling grapes and being fanned by devoted attendants--this is the life of the non-tradionally employed freelancer/student/author. not glamorous. mostly dull. i don't sleep well at night, for a number of reasons. i'm highly motivated by poverty.

my weekend has involved spending no money, since there is none to spend. i've been making do on what's in the fridge, what's in my dvd collection, what's online. and while i had high intentions of spending huge chunks of this weekend "working" from "home", i've actually spent more of my time working on my novel. it's the writer's impulse. i could not be restrained. it's coming along well.

my weekend has become a bridge to the 'golden opportunity' (thanks, mom) that might be mine next week. my horoscope (yes, i know, silly to pay attention to, but when they match the layout of your week ahead exactly it's hard not to think there's something to it) has it all laid out for me, down to the fact that i might be headed to san francisco come friday. of course, i can only be headed there come friday if my monday through thursday is a golden as it could be. so many factors. so much to look forward to. soon this horrid nasty summer quarter will be over at school and i will be free to do what this weekend i've planned to do. going away to work for someone and spending almost a week housesitting in a remote, quiet, natural setting. going to the archives at ucla to do research. and finishing the book and starting to work on getting it published.

my weekend is reminding me of all the possibilities i believe in. that someday i might get to act again. that not only will my book be published and successful, but will make a wonderful movie. that when i get things together again i might regain interest in dating, which, right now, i have absolutely none. that where i am right now is where i'm supposed to be, in this dear apartment, with dear housemates, with my sweet loving cat, with the friends i have who've been around for awhile, with the family i have. that i have the power to tell myself who i am, and then go and be it. that sometimes it's a simple as a cup of coffee and a cigarette. and the rest will fall in to place.


Thursday, August 14, 2003

can i ask a favor?

there are lots of things i want to talk about, only, it's a school day, and i have to get some stuff done before i head to campus. but, i wanted to ask a huge huge huge huge huge favor of anyone who can help me with something.

ok, here it is.

every tuesday, thursday and some sundays i go to my local video store for 99 cent rental days, and get a different katharine hepburn movie. only, they don't have all of them. but, turner classic movies is showing several of them tomorrow (august 15, starting at 6 a.m.) ... and i don't get that channel! does anyone get that channel, and... here's the big favor... can anyone or a couple of anyones tape some for me? i would reimburse you for the video tape and mailing costs! and, you would be helping me out with something very very very very important to me. and if there's anything i could do in return for you, i'd happily do it (within reason, of course!)

so, here's the schedule. i don't need all of them (although, since i only own four from the list, even the ones i've seen would be nice to have, wink-wink)--just the first four and then the documentary.

i know this is silly and crazy, but if you get turner classic movies, and you have a vcr and a blank tape and a kind heart... well, it would mean the world to me. really, really, really mean the world to me.

crossing my fingers, taking my chances...

and in other words


Wednesday, August 13, 2003

know what i hate? movies with bad endings! ugh!

i came home after one of my gigs this afternoon and popped a movie in the vcr. it's my free day, so, i'm allowed. and i enjoyed it pretty well. it was as good, or bad, as i'd expected it to be. but, as the ending creeped near, i sat straight up, smacked my hand to my forehead and said out loud: "aahh! she's going to die, isn't she?" and sure enough, she did. went down in blazes. and then, after one long, tight shot of her memorial statue...dum-dum-dum-da! the end. that is so not what i wanted to see!

nor can i give you what you want to see...

okay, all you google, aol, yahoo, and so on searchers! i wish i could figure out:

a)what possesses you to search for the things you search for, and
b)what you think when your strange searches lead you to me.

unfortunately, i am of little or no help on the following topics:
  • mary kate french kissing her sister ashley olsen (gross!)
  • sex toy stores in tijuana, mexico (um, grosser!)
  • knock off designer handbags in san francisco (l.a., i can tell you. s.f., you're on your own, as are the folks in nyc)
  • fresh nooky (and when you find it, let me know where it is, ok?)
  • carrie bradshaw wedding poem (what is this? i get this one several times a week! it's not "there once was a man from nantucket, is it?)
  • did you drive drunk? (no. duh.)
  • kylie minogue bending over (like you can't see her ass already in those outfits of hers?)
  • salma hayek spent 18 months learning english and how she got her green card (well, apparently you're the expert on her. i just go to the movies with her accidentally.)
  • unintentional celibacy (what, you want to make me cry now? thanks for mentioning it. see "fresh nooky")
  • mastercard priceless wedding (the folks at mastercard aren't too happy with me. they won't be giving me a wedding anytime soon.)
  • queef normal (yes, perfectly normal. especially during anal intercourse. well, you asked.)
  • name some schoolgirl fantasies (ok! how about getting it on with a hunky professor! see also "seducing my professor", the google search)
  • jamie luner tonight show (not tonight, dear, jamie has a headache from searching so hard for her career)
  • true friends hold your hair when you puke (so true! this is an old adage that bunny and i have always held dear. i guess, then, juniper isn't my true friend. i think he stared at me, horrified, whilst i puked. ugh.)
  • backrub seduction friend (ladies, the backrub is your seduction friend. it's worked for me!)
  • dkny bedskirt (no, no. the g-string panties are dkny. the bedskirt is shabby chic. don't go tugging my bedskirt when you want to get into my panties!)
  • marilu henner, road map change (for once and for all, i hate marilu henner! do you need a map to show you how to go away!)
  • misunderstanding others (huh? what? sorry, i don't follow)
  • "gettin lucky in kentucky" t-shirt (enough already! go to urban outfitters and buy one, and then you can look like every other alterno-hipster-rocker dude or dudette out there, none of whom i'd wager have ever been to kentucky, let alone gotten lucky there)
  • insert punkin's 'real' name here, first and last--[it's on here, but sort of hidden. i like to keep it out of the posts and such, you understand] (yes, it's me. who are you, and why are you searching me? that's kind of creepy. just call me or something. weird.)
  • sassy little punkin (well, hey, now! okay! that'!)

and in closing, for you to puzzle out:

according to juniper: "tuesday is the new thursday!"


Tuesday, August 12, 2003

walking the fine line

so while i am all amped about the fact that i am freelancing, it requires that i walk a rather precarious line. see, the thing is, it's who i'm freelancing for that is both ironic, satisfying, enjoyable and a tad bit risky. but leave it up to the sassy little punkin to go about it in this fashion. out of respect to my various new employers, or, rather, clients, i will not go into any further details. and, also, just to keep everyone interested, i'll retain that air of mystery. i sort of like being enigmatic. and i wish so much that i could tell you what it is i'm doing, for a whole bunch of reasons--sometimes i'm about ready to burst when i sit down to type a post and realize, "no, no, punkin, you can't tell that!" ah, yes, mysterious, that's me.

keeping in the theme of the mysterious, i am going to continue to keep the subject of my novel under wraps. i thank you all for your kind offers to read, edit, or give opinions, but for once in my life i am keeping my mouth shut about something. i'm fiercely protective about it, like a mama lioness and her cubs. i'm surprised none of you has attempted a guess at the topic, too. but i thank you for all the encouragement, and am working on it at every affordable opportunity.

speaking now of guessing, last night while i was walking the fine line of procrastination and writing a last minute essay using new historicism to analyze thomas pynchon's the crying of lot 49 (just so you know i don't sit on my butt and watch tv all day), someone who i think knows me from the world of blogging popped in with an instant message. only, they wouldn't tell me who they were. and, i'm sure it's someone that i read, and enjoy, and would love to talk to, only i can't even find words for how irritated i was that they couldn't just say who the heck they were. so, please, if you want to be in my good graces (and who doesn't, really?), when you instant message me, for the love of god, tell me who you are!!!

right now i'm walking the fine line of tardiness for my afternoon class. happy tuesday afternoon, everyone!


Sunday, August 10, 2003

the fantabulous adventures of punkin and juniper

i got it in to my head in the middle of last week that i wanted to see a show at the historic hollywood bowl this weekend. i was doing my typical culling of google search results on a given topic when i found a little blurb about the hollywood bowl orchestra (under the guidance of the effusive john mauceri) planning to include a tribute to katharine hepburn in this weekend's "great american" concert. well, well, well. my curiosity was piqued, indeed.

now, a little back story. one of my most treasured jobs in my lengthy employment history was a stint with the los angeles philharmonic at the hollywood bowl. the employment, in the typical "just my luck" fashion, tragically and unpredictably ended the day i returned from my vacation because of the complete financial restructuring of the organization. as in, whoopsie, there, dear, you and a whole bunch of others don't have jobs anymore. ta ta!

but i've digressed. to say the least, not only is a summertime visit to a 'concert under the stars' an angeleno's rite of passage, it is a cherished happening that holds quite a warm spot in my old weather-beaten heart. i've held hands with lucky boys, sat stiff-bottomed through mozart and beethoven (stiff-bottomed thanks to the wooden benches; i'm actually rather fond of most classical music), snuck into box seats to watch alan cumming (later a co-worker and i corralled him backstage and got photos and an autograph), chased kevin spacey through an after party with a rubber glove filled with ice on my shoulder, and engaged in any number of hijinks, some funnier than others. and, uncharacteristically, as of last week i hadn't been to the bowl once this summer! that just wouldn't do! so, suspicious of the planned "tribute" to my beloved katie, and excited about the prospect of nibbling tasty food and sipping wine under the velvety night sky, i picked up some cheap tickets to saturday night's show. on the bill: the hollywood bowl orchestra, miss carol channing, and michael buble.

juniper was the logical choice for my evening companion. after a litany of east side versus the valley cracks on his part we boarded the park and ride bus and made our way to the venue. the day had been hot as blazes, and it was still rather warm in the late evening hours. we had a bag full of trader joe's snacks and three, count 'em, three, bottles of the trusty old two-buck-chuck. (the famous $1.99 good quality wine that rocked the wine snob's world last year when it burst on to the scene.) the people-watching at the bowl was spectacular. we played "spot the queen couples" in the crowd, and took turns pointing out the comical attire and mannerisms of many present. we had fantastic seats, the front row of the section, and before we'd risen to sing (badly) the national anthem--not my favorite song, because, hey, remember, i'm not american, but it's damn fun to sing in a crowd--we'd polished off bottle number one. pick up your pencils, kids, it's time to keep score.

the opening number was decent. and then mauceri delivered his own tongue-in-cheek 11th annual "state of the union" address, which, despite ourselves, we laughed at. and then, the moment i was most looking forward to, and also dreading. how were they going to pay tribute to the great kate? now, it's no secret that katharine wasn't interested in being posthumously honored--her will stipulates that no funeral or memorial services were to be held--and she certainly wasn't a figure in the world of musical theatre (1969's coco, where she spoke-sang in her gravelly voice, henry higgins style, being the exception), so, if they were going to be appropriate, it left them little room. and so, much to my delight, they played copland's abraham lincoln suite, featuring hepburn's 1987 narration, recorded for the cincinnati pops. it was delicious. hearing her legendary voice carried out in the night, to the silent crowd of 18,000 was unlike anything i've ever experienced. no lengthy speeches about her career. and i knew she would have approved.

and then, the irrepressible miss carol channing took the stage. in her early 80's, she is as sassy and bawdy as ever, telling tales and kicking up her heels in a couple of classic songs. what a treat! what a kick! and, for those of you keeping score, the end of the first half also brought the end of the second bottle of wine. we stumbled to the outskirts during intermission to puff down a couple of smokes. i was a bit wobbly on my feet, and our quips were becoming louder and, to us, much funnier. we sat back down in time for the second half. the gorgeous and debonair michael buble, a fellow countryman of mine, and all of 28 years old, sang a short list of standards, and we were swooning in our seats. and then, my friends, to the rousing last orchestral piece, the hollywood bowl was lit up with a smashing fireworks show. now, i don't usually get sappy over fireworks, but as we drained the last drops of bottle number three, well, it was a miraculous sight indeed. we gathered up and trotted out as the band played "thanks for the memories" in tribute to bob hope (that old poop would have approved of that sort of tribute, certainly) and we walked like sheep in a herd down to the exit. we passed the place where the dear mr. buble was signing copies of his cd, and juniper made us stop so that he could yell over top of people "hey, michael! put your head on my shoulder!", to which michael gave juniper a beaming grin. and, oh, oh, oh, everyone, was i drunk.

we made friends with everyone on board the park and ride bus back to the lot. we had some one take our picture, and we bantered even more loudly and riotously than earlier. the parking lot was crowded, and took some finessing to get out of. i had to pee like a racehorse, and that was my sole focus. juniper insisted we stop in at a local bar for a drink, but when we got there we found they were charging a cover, and the place was jam-packed--it was transvestite night, after all. i begged to be let in to use the john (which was probably filled with half a dozen women named john), and then i wriggled my way out. we got back in the car and went to my house. we clattered and clamored our way into the apartment, and woke up the sleeping angel bunny once we were inside. she took great joy in watching us, drunkenly recounting our tales of misadventure, and in watching us pour ourselves some scotch. when juniper disappeared upstairs i finally got up to find him, and he was trying to do something or other on my computer. he then drunk dialed our mutual friend laurie, and, despite it being the middle of the night for her, she was actually up and amused by our antics. we took turns lying down and attempting to smoke cigarettes, and then, after a second call to laurie, i issued a loud warning for juniper to "not throw up!" well, the power of suggestion is a mighty thing. and, same goes double for me, because i took my turn, upchucking grossly off the side of my balcony. man, it is one funny twilight zone the overzealous drinker finds them self in when they're tossing cookies. it is the most dreadful and agonizing relief, i find. we recouped, and then decided to brave the streets on foot to get a breakfast fix at the local greasy spoon. this time, more exhausted than intoxicated, we'd found ourselves in the strange world of the neighborhood diner at 2:30 in the morning. and then we stumbled home, and juniper decided to make his way to his home. and i slept, and slept.

it's funny, i'm not sure how we both ended up so drunk. both of us have been known to hold our liquor, and neither of us are big pukers. maybe the dizzying effects of carol channing, a hunky young crooner, and a sky full of fireworks paired up with the potency of mr. two-buck-chuck 2002 merlot and took us on a crazy, madcap adventure. i'm still a little sluggish, on this warm and lazy sunday, though i did manage to get some work done for my freelance gigs, and even read a little for one of my classes. i'm about to meet up with my beloved honorary twin, ashley, and i'm also happy to report that the novel has been progressing steadily each day. i have the lion in winter on dvd to look forward to at bedtime, and a full day of homework and other such noble pursuits to tackle tomorrow.

i probably won't make it back to the bowl again this summer. it was never easier than when i worked there and could request a handful of tickets for free to any given show, and when i had a most amazing parking spot to myself. and it's hard to imagine topping a magical night of favorite songs, stories from the trenches of broadway, endless glasses of wine, spectacular fireworks, and a very tasteful hommage to my idol and inspiration. and what lovely friends i have, who embark on these escapades with yours truly. everything in my life lately now seems to be making sense, even the things that only came about when i got the sack. now, as one of my new clients says, things are all working out for the better.

still keeping score? it's no contest, i'm the winner here, hands down! and happy for it.


Wednesday, August 06, 2003

"there is a leopard on your roof and it's my leopard and i have to get it and to get it i have to sing. "*

the v.d.b. just called me to ask if i was still planning on going up to san francisco at the end of the month.

"you're never online!" he said.
"yes i am, all the time!" i replied.
"but it's your away message..."(* currently my favorite away message. who can identity what it's from??)

i've been busy, as most of you know. trying to discipline myself by not cruising blogs for hours on end, and instead getting done what needs to be done. it's not fun, believe you me. except when i lose myself in my novel-writing. i'm on chapter two right now, and the story practically writes itself. the research part is just as fun as ever, and i can't wait to bring it all together. there's still just the tiniest circle of people who i've let in on the finer details. but, yes, when it comes out i will autograph your copies. but you'll have to go buy them, of course! how else is this girl supposed to make her living?

anyhow, the answer is, yes, i'm still going up to san francisco at the end of the month. i'll hopefully be taking part in a drunken night of good fun with the glorious jennn before making my way to the big city by the bay. it will be nice to get away from it all...

i still owe you some answers to the questions you've posed. i can finish just about all of them off now...

pobrecito and lainey asked questions in a similar vein, about shame and regret. sure, there are things that i've done that after the fact i thought "now why did i go and do that," and mostly they were things that resulted in hurting other people's feelings. but nothing deliberate, mind you, all accidental. and as for regrets, well, since my teens i've said that i don't believe in them. sure, some things i wish i'd done differently, or there were things i've wanted to happen that didn't, but the fact of the matter is they didn't, and that's brought me to where i am today. and where i am, for whatever reason, is where i'm supposed to be. and i like it just fine. i'll spare you a kate hepburn quote (notorious for not believing in regrets, a la sassy little punkin), but offer instead some lines of pop-culture wisdom from madonna's song "i deserve it": many miles, many roads i have traveled, falling down on the way. many hearts, many years have unraveled, leading up to today. i have no regrets, there's nothing to forget, all the pain was worth it. not running from the past, i tried to do what's best, and know that i deserve it.

so you think i'm ballsy, allison? and super sassy, erin and peppermint tina? i can't tell you how that tickles me. i think i'm ballsy and super sassy at times. most of the time i'm just a regular girl, scared and excited and sad and thrilled and more afraid to succeed than to fail. i have done some pretty ballsy things--i stay true to myself, and i take plenty of risks. and i do stupid things. and sometimes things don't work out the way i'd planned, or like. and i have a whole lifetime ahead of me to get through, just arming myself with the wisdom of experience and the spirit of adventure. i guess that's how it happens. a lot of luck. a pretty damn good family. wonderful friends. role models. smarts. good hair. boobs. hell, i don't know. but here i am, ballsy, sassy, super something or another. a lot of days i don't recognize that girl. i'd love for her to come out of hiding and play, and remind me how to live. she's around these days, thankfully. and so i get by...

and in my treehouse? well, blue, are they living or dead? celebrities or people i know? (it's like those hypothetical dinner party questions.) three living people i know: ashley, juniper and my nana. because we'd just have a blast. three living people i don't know: kevin spacey, susan sarandon and, oh, hell, madonna. why not? three dead people: katharine hepburn, laura ingalls wilder and my great-grandma (whom i never met). and on the door the sign would read: if you aren't inside you weren't invited!

the most daring, outrageous thing i've ever done, wahini, is to move to new york at age 17. (this will satisfy jennn's repeat inquiry, though she has had the privilege of having me tell it to her in person!). and you can read about that here.

and the happy and the sad, dear cheri? happiest moments include playing mama rose in scenes from gypsy at the pasadena playhouse (and really, being in all the plays from my teen years: stage door, the skin of our teeth, the foreigner being my favorites), the weekend in june i spent in san francisco, the first trip i took to new york with my classmates in june 1994 (four days of freedom, no obligations, just sheer fun), being told "i love you" by various boys, and all sorts of delicious little moments in between. saddest, well, to me sadness equals loss. losing jobs, losing friends, losing hope, losing loved ones. i've lost a lot, i suppose, and i can't do a damn thing about it.

and the best thought these days when i go to bed or wake up is my novel. but the topic itself, well, it's hard to explain without telling the plot, but the topic has gotten me very sad. thinking about mortality, and after life, and memory, and aging, and celebrity, and talent, and inspiration. hard stuff. sadness of sort that wakes me up. and money. thinking about money keeps me up, keeps my head spinning.

life is a journey, my friends. it's also what we make of it. i'm challenging myself right now to see things as a gift and not a curse. to take care of myself, body and spirit and mind. to not fear success, but to plunge ahead, terrified as i might be. to be a good person, as best i can be at all times. to love everyone in my life, and to be loved in return. sometimes i feel like 'sassy little punkin' is not really me, but an extension of me, a persona. i'm just sort of her secretary, her scribe. she's a vehicle, an arm, that reaches out. and people like her, as i do too. she isn't everything, she's the best and sometimes the worst parts of me. but she's real, and sincere. and glad to have you reading.


Monday, August 04, 2003

exhilaration meets obligation

i have begun work on what i know is going to be my ticket into the world of the successfully published. i have never been more excited or certain about anything in my life before. you heard it here first: this is it! i'm very protective of the idea; it's immensely personal, innovative, creative... so you'll understand that i'm not divulging the topic. i will say that it is a primarily a novel, though it will work fantastically as a screenplay i'd sooner write the novel first and then adapt it myself. i've seen myself on oprah, i've seen the stellar reviews, i've seen my book on the new york times bestseller list. couple that excitement with a housemates' evening trip to zuma beach to frolic and watch the sunset, and, i'll tell you, i remember what it means to be alive. really alive. this may sound corny, but i finally feel like i have purpose. it's that big.

however, i have to handle the world of obligation in the next few days. i have piles of marketing assignments to work on for my freelance employer, some school work to finish, the battle of financial aid to wage, about a dozen serious financial concerns to muddle through without finances, and i've also been cat-sitting. so you'll understand if i am a little less attentive right now. my plate is f-u-l-l!

so off i go to tackle the work. all i want to do is to get back to researching and to writing, but that will have to wait until i clear some room. my goal is to be finished with the novel by the end of september, before the fall quarter starts. and i think i can do it. but it's going to take discipline. and, "without discipline, there's no way to live."

(thanks, kath--it's as much for me as it is for you.)


Sunday, August 03, 2003

"rest your intellect and give me a scotch and water"

so far this weekend i have:
  • met and talked til all hours with the truly fabulous cati
  • spent the day with beloved juniper, which included an amazing trip to the museum of tv and radio (where i watched the most astonishing three hours of programming--the 1973 tv interview debut of miss katharine hepburn on the dick cavett show), a visit to the grove and farmer's market (including a crepe lunch and an ice cream cone), and a night of cooking dinner, laughing, listening to old standards and drinking scotch.
  • come up with the writing project that is the most inspiring, encouraging, stimulating, exciting piece of creativity to touch my life as late... really if i make this a go i think it might be my ticket to having what i want out of life, and the culmination of my passion and interests and talents. (please, everyone, give me encouragement and make sure i work on this. hold me accountable and help me make this happen, i've never felt this inspired to see through a project before!)
  • discovered why it's so appealing and yet never a good idea to blog while intoxicated.


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