Monday, November 26, 2007

painted lady


A year and a half, and we're finally nesting. It feels good! From the first swath of smoky bluish-greenish-grey that spilled out behind Eric's meticulously-applied roller, we knew that important changes were stirring.


We watched The Pillow Book last night. I hadn't seen it for ten years - and it was amazing how different the film was from this perspective.

Most of all, it was refreshing to be reminded that not all movies have to cling to a singsongy three-act structure; that some movies are as exhilarating in their earnestness as they are flummoxing in execution.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

alas, poor dell - i knew him well


Some have wondered why it's taken me so long to realize that my relationship is fundamentally flawed. They're becoming more and more vocal about it; it's as though they were too polite to talk about it at first, but have been emboldened by my obvious frustration.

There are problems I just can't resolve, no matter now hard I try - and they're getting impossible to ignore, popping up with greater and greater frequency, demanding attention I just can't spare.

Also, I'm changing! My needs are changing; simply put, I need more. Right now, I need the comfort and security of real compatibility. And better-looking wouldn't hurt.

So I've decided to end it.

And all I can say is: Merry Christmas, me.

While I'm at it, I think I'll get a little religion, too.


I love my videos - I do - but honestly, this is as informed a State-Of-The-Union treatise as you'll ever need.

Monday, November 12, 2007

happy talk


"You got to have a dream/If you don't have a dream,/how you gonna make your dream come true?"

If you weren't raised on these things, the above is my favourite snippet from a song in the musical South Pacific. It's performed in pecking, brittle pidgin English, and delivered in a silly caracaturish fashion that belies its razor-sharp meaning to anyone who's ever wanted to do some profound-but-maybe-a-little-undefined thing. It's playing over and over in my head this morning.


I enjoyed my gloomy-skied weekend more than I had any real right to. After the initial hurdle of coordinating Saturday's media judging, it was sweetly idle. It was a meditation, really - loosening my grip on the day just enough to give up on Having A Weekend, sink into Bear's arms and recharge. Really delicious.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

office space

I remember the first time I walked into one of these offices - so stark, so modern-for-the-sake-of-modernity. So empty - long, bare tables with simple lights and lonely wall plugs. There is no "officey" warmth here. There are no family pictures. There are no stuffed animals; no indoor plants; no cheery pegboards.

I remember wondering if anyone could really feel at home here, among the polished concrete floors and woundingly sharp angles.

As I grew into this business, I went to more and more of the same place.

Now, I realize - the soul's in the people, not the place, and the constant surges of new blood (all practiced at the art of being The New Person In The Office) makes working in these empty shells as interesting as watching clouds in a stark blue sky.

Thursday, November 01, 2007

all souls'

I was thinking a lot today. Musing. I was primarily doing this because there wasn't a whole lot more I could manage, curled up in a little hung-over ball with a bottle of Advil on the bed next to me and a pillow pulled over my head.

I was thinking about costumes. My costume. My mask.

Inside, I am now and have always been a quiet, withdrawn creature who finds it difficult to connect with people. Trust comes slowly if it comes at all.

Outside, I've cobbled together an open-arms gregariousness in order to make myself palatable to the world - a tapdancer-with-vaseline-on-her-teeth cheeriness that I've begun to roll my own eyes at. Of course the underlying self elbows her way in occasionally, evidencing herself in the startling effeciency of my relationship cutoffs and my moments of unflappable flightiness.

My inside bits have been winning. I've tucked deep down, seeing noone but my Bear outside of working hours. When he's working and I'm not, I seek out the most solitary of activities to fill the time - a twelve-mile hike; a chair in the corner of the library walled off by a pile of books; a nap.

I wonder if it's LA. I wonder if it's growing up. I wonder if it's being secure with my homelife. I wonder what it is.

At any rate, I'm wondering...does anybody out there (patient and stalwart Bear excepted) actually know and like me, and not just the me I've made?