Of Skype'ing, Writing, and a Monkey's Uniform...a play in three acts (just kidding)

My most recent spate of meaningless hours of idleness has been broken by the refreshing addition of Skype to my home. Video calls, folks...it's the wave of the future. Now all we need are those machines from "The Jetsons" that automatically get you out of bed, dressed, and fully made-up so that you're always ready for a caller to get a peek into your home life.

Sadly, since we don't currently have these fabulous machines, I am pretty sure I'm going to be keeping my Skype contact list fairly short, as there are only a handful of people out there I don't mind seeing me with unwashed hair, glasses, and sweats. It ain't pretty.

My first Skype experiment was with my friend Michele, who was gracious enough to be my guinea pig and close enough in distance that there was nary a sound lag or vocal distortion to be had. An excellent first try, saved from being a bit uncomfortable by my husband having the presence of mind to avoid walking behind me after he stepped out of the shower. These are the types of close calls that Skype users will have to take care to avoid if this thing is gonna catch on...at least among us normal peeps who aren't trying to "sho u penis bals" - a rather touching request an unknown user sent to me before I figured out how to change my privacy settings.

The second Skype was with Brad's sister and nieces - a surprise for him, as he wasn't aware they had a web cam...it was great to see the smile it brought to his face, to actually be able to see those little girls fighting over the right to talk to Uncle Brad instead of just hearing the ruckus. We're talking full-fledged face grabs and body slams here, folks - Brad's a well-loved guy. :D

And yesterday I Skype'd with my sister and niece, with whom I discovered the 21st century version of peek-a-boo, diving out of frame and jumping back in from unexpected directions. It was awesome. I'm looking forward to surprising my grandfather later today when my sister has him over for dinner, but I'm completely ready for him to believe he's looking at a video clip of me.

I've also been trying (TRYING) to fill my hours with writing projects...but it's been difficult. What I thought of as my great idea for a novel is beginning to look more like a lengthy short story - as much as I read books, I seem to have trouble taking the time to write in full-blown novelistic style...too much information makes it read like a short story. We'll see if I can fix this.

And last, I have, of course, been desperately trying to find a paying "day job" of sorts to help feed our dog and put vodka in the freezer...and the economy has come back with a heaping round of "not enough jobs!" and "you're both under and over qualified!" It's fun.

You see, having been a struggling actor/writer for the past 87 years, I don't really have many marketable skills to shop around. So I'm not qualified to do things like bake or teach or sell overpriced houses in a depressed market. But I'm also too old and experienced to get any of the entry-level BS jobs that are vaguely floating around out there...they'd much prefer to hire someone younger and dumber who they can feasibly keep around for a few years. I'm not sure how they automatically realize that a nearly 33-year-old woman who's Mensa-qualified would jump their donkey ship at the first sign of a better paying "REAL" job - I guess someone must have warned them.

One of the interviews I had was to be a trolley guide at an outdoor mall. Yes, I would have the grand honor of narrating the same 1/2 mile course of track six times every hour to a squabbling bunch of tourists whilst wearing a suit resembling something between an old-timey elevator operator and one of those little monkeys that dances around collecting money while a gypsy man plays the hurdy-gurdy.

You know what I'm talking about.

Well guess what? The interview went great. And I didn't get the job. Because, clearly, they had some magical inkling that this was MAAAAYYYYYBE not my ultimate career choice.

So I guess what I'm saying is that my ultimately pessimistic view of life and the job market is primarily at fault for me not getting one of these classy entry-level peon jobs. And the more I get rejected, the further down the slope of negativity I go.

I've decided, then, that I really should just finish writing my GD brilliant debut novel(la?), get it sold, and watch millions of people gobble it up and ask me for seconds. Because that should be easier, right?

I'm starting to think it might be. God help us all. Except Paris Hilton.

I'm gonna go Skype...at least it's free!

Nana

Almost 19 years ago, we had an addition to our family - a kitten from the litter of my sister's friend's cat. This little ball of gray and brown fluff was dubbed "Sneakers" by my then-stepfather, but she soon became better known by the pet name I unconsciously bestowed upon her - Nana (pronounced "Nah-nah").

(As a side note - I seem to be ridiculously skilled at this unconscious re-naming - our dog Lily has grown far more accustomed to being called "Boots.")

Nana came into my life in 1992, nearly two decades ago. Obviously, she's seen a lot over the years...she was my best friend long before I even had my first kiss, and now I'm an old married lady living 3,000 miles from home.

Unbelievably, Nana's been a part of the family for nearly as long as my younger brother has been alive. She's seen all three of us grow from children into adults, some of us becoming only occasional visitors - though she always, ALWAYS remembers us.



She's seen many other pets come and go, and she was healthy for so long that we thought she might even survive some of US! Until a year or two ago, she was still the radiant, exuberant huntress and prowler that she'd always been, in ridiculously good shape for her age and as smart as ever. Even a month ago, the vet was amazed at how great Nana's lungs and heart looked, not to mention her eyes (not a cataract to be seen) and mind (she'd always been a superbly intelligent cat). But sadly, Nana was beginning to fade - her digestive tract was having issues which were causing her to lose a tremendous amount of weight - she couldn't keep her food down and was becoming vastly dehydrated.

She was put on steroids, which seemed to help the eating problem but in turn caused severe urinary issues. We had to come to the very difficult decision that Nana's quality of life just wasn't there anymore - alternating between dehydration and being locked away so that she didn't mess the entire house...it just wasn't right, not to mention the pain and inconvenience the situation was causing my mom and family.

So in about an hour, my mom and sister will be taking my Nana to the vet to be put to sleep, after which they'll bring her home to inter her in the front yard underneath the lilac tree which Brad and I sent a few years back. It breaks my heart into a billion pieces to not be able to be there with them, to not be able to hold my cat one last time, to be with her as she closes her eyes for the last time.

I'm a bit of a mess...at least my mom will be calling before they leave so that I can "talk" to Nana one last time - she always seemed to understand when you spoke to her, and she meows back to the phone like she's having a conversation. And she always purrs when she hears my voice.

Pets are such a wonderful addition to our lives - they are filled with such unconditional love and are always happy to see us...but it's so hard to see them go. I'm so grateful for the time that I had Nana in my life - there will never be another cat quite like her.

And I'm glad that I have my little Lily Boots to hold on to this afternoon, to help me get through the day...her love reminds me why we bring these animals into our lives and hearts.

Readers, please forgive me a bit of cheesiness, but...Nana, I love you so much. And I am with you in my heart, even if I'm not there to hold you in my arms. You'll always be my best kitty.

:...(

The Imploded Brain tackles the Lost finale

I have been a rabid fan of the show "Lost" for the past six years, so like the rest of the world (minus the naysayers), I watched on Sunday as my greatest television love was extinguished in a puff of smoke monster.

The finale was the cause of so much confusion, argument, and Facebook de-friending that I couldn't help but try to put my own thoughts and theories into words in the hopes that I can make some sense of things, even if only for my own scattered noggin.

First and foremost, let me say that I was absolutely pleased with the ending of this epic. Were all of my questions answered? Of course not. But I'm at peace with that, because I was sort of expecting it - there was no way the writers could have tied up every loose end this season, so I was ready to let some stuff go. And isn't it better sometimes NOT to know?? It means we can still have vaulted discussions on the matter, it can still be a fun thing to dicker over at the water cooler, and sometimes when mysteries are over-explained, they lose what made them special in the first place.

Also, how could I dare argue with what ended up being one of the more emotionally satisfying conclusions in (my) television-watching history? So I didn't get all of the sci-fi mumbo-jumbo nerd answers I was seeking - I got the joy of seeing these characters who I've grown to love find peace amidst their own conclusions. And that's what was always at the heart of "Lost" - it wasn't smoke monsters and hatches, it was the emotional journey of these flawed, yearning, lovable survivors. The term "Lost" doesn't apply so much to their physical state of being as it did to their spiritual and emotional one. And yes, cheesy as it is to say, by the end of the finale, they did indeed seem to be..."found."

Ultimately, those are my thoughts on the subject. But I know there are those of you out there who are ready to throw your coffee in my sappy "love-is-the-answer" face, so I'll also try my hand at answering some of the "unanswered" questions the show left behind...because I believe enough clues were sprinkled throughout the show to at least make a passing guess at some of the answers.

1) WHAT WERE THE NUMBERS? Well, we know that they were numbers assigned to each of Jacob's candidates - Sayid, Jack, Locke, Sawyer, Hurley, and Sun/Jin. I think that Jacob assigned those numbers to the candidates via his lighthouse "readings" (or coordinates, if that's a better term). And because those numbers were specific to his chosen candidates, the sequence had enough significance to permeate the island, showing up on the hatch, etc - the numbers are representative of the candidates, and hence, Jacob. I would therefore argue that Jacob himself was represented by 108.

2) YEAH, BUT WHAT ABOUT HURLEY'S LOTTO NUMBERS? We already know that he got them from a friend in the nut-house, who in turn picked them up when he was stationed somewhere near Australia...presumably from the island's broadcast itself (if I'm remembering correctly, the numbers were what was being sent out by the radio towers before Danielle replaced them with her own distress signal). As far as the sequence actually winning the lottery...well, obviously there's a bit of magic and mysticism involved in this show, and we're led to believe Jacob has a lot of mysterious power in the world - surely he was able to rig those little numbered ping pong balls.

3) WHAT WAS THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ISLAND? We were told time and again that the island was the source of life as well as the guardian against evil for the world at large...this is one of the more hippie-dippy pieces of the show's mythology, but if we take it at face value, then the island needed to stay intact for the world to survive. I rather like EW's Jeff Jensen's theory on the matter, in regards to how the smoke monster's escape would engender the destruction of humanity itself: read it here.

4) BUT IF THE ISLAND WAS SO GREAT, WHY DID IT BRING EVERYONE SO MUCH PAIN AND MISERY? How can I put this gently...that's life, kid. Life's pretty grand, but it's also one m.f.'ing bitch when it wants to be.

5) WHY COULDN'T WOMEN GIVE BIRTH ON THE ISLAND? We know that this problem wasn't always around - after all, we saw Ethan safely brought into the world back in the '70s. I don't have a firm answer for this one, but as the Incident happened not long after the last known successful island birth, I've gotta believe that had something to do with it. Maybe the excess electromagnetic energy erodes our baby-making equipment - not enough to prevent pregnancy, but just enough to prevent it from succeeding.

6) WAIT, DIDN'T ROUSSEAU GIVE BIRTH TO ALEX AFTER THE INCIDENT? Yes, many years after. As did Claire to Aaron. But both babies who were conceived OFF island - and that made all the difference, don't you agree? Both women reached the island near the end of their pregnancies.

7) WHY WEREN'T MICHAEL AND WALT IN THE CHURCH? We were given a definitive answer about Michael earlier this season - he's stuck on the island, repenting for what he did - betraying his friends and killing Ana Lucia and Libby. I personally think it's less of the island keeping him jailed and more that he still can't forgive himself - and therefore move on. Much like Ben, but to a lesser degree, since Ben at least made it as far as the limbo that was the Sideways World. As far as Walt goes, no, I don't think it's simply a matter of the kid got too tall. Christian said that the castaways were all together in this place that they had made because their time together on the island represented the most important years of their lives. Walt was only on the island for about 2 months, and spent part of that time with the Others, away from the castaways. He returned to the "real" world, still a kid, and spent the majority of his life and formulative years AWAY from the island and the castaways. How important to YOU are the adults who surrounded you for a month when you were 13?

8) WHY WERE CHILDREN SO IMPORTANT TO THE OTHERS? They couldn't have babies. So they took them from other people on the island instead. Also, the Others, like Mother and the Man in Black (and perhaps, in part, Jacob) believe that humanity in general is corrupt, especially those coming from off the island, and therefore the children still had a chance to be raised in the "right" way.

9) WHO BUILT THE GIANT STATUE? WHAT ABOUT THE DONKEY WHEEL, OR THE DRAIN TO HELL? You've got me there. Statue, I'm assuming an earlier race of people that were brought to and lived on the island - Egyptians, of course, as the god depicted is Egyptian. How they did it, I have no idea - but I don't know how they built the pyramids or the Sphinx, either - they're pretty impressive, wouldn't you say? The donkey wheel must have been built by someone who came after the Man in Black died (and before Dharma arrived). We'll assume that Smokey (in the guise of someone dead that they knew) taught that person how to build it, but found he was unable for whatever reason to use it himself. And the drain to hell? That one must go way, WAY back. No clue.

10) WHY DIDN'T THE SMOKE MONSTER KILL EVERYBODY, INSTEAD OF ONLY SOME? Knowing now who he is, and that he had an ultimate plan, clearly it was in his best interest to keep some important players alive. And he couldn't kill Jacob's candidates anyway.

11) WHAT WAS THE CABIN, AND WAS JACOB EVER THERE? I assume it was a holding cell of sorts for the Man in Black/Smokey - I don't think Jacob ever lived there. Didn't really look like his sort of digs anyway, did it? And because we saw Christian Shepard there, and know the monster took his guise in the past, we'll assume that he was familiar with the cabin and perhaps lived there for a time. I think the ring of ash was put there by Dogon in an attempt to cage the Man in Black, not to protect someone inside from him. And I don't think it worked. We saw that the ring had been broken at some point after he whispered, "help me." By whom, we don't know. I'll have to go back and watch the series to see if the smoke monster shows up in any of the episodes between when we first see the cabin to when we see the ash ring broken - maybe he was indeed imprisoned for a few episodes, but obviously it didn't last. And he certainly wasn't imprisoned when the plane first crashed.

12) WHO WERE THE OTHERS? As we've seen, people occasionally come or are brought to the island. Usually they go to war with the Others, the group of people who are already in place on the island. By the end of this war, most of the new group are gone, and those who are left seem to migrate into the Others camp, just in time to join them in fighting the next group of newbies who crash into their home. We saw Cindy, Zack & Emma, Ben, Ethan, and Alex all become members of the Others. For a time, even our castaways were Others, to those who came from the freighter. As far as the "original" Others go, who knows...the first people to crash onto the island a millennium ago became the Others to whoever came next.

13) WHAT WAS THE SICKNESS? Danielle's team had it. Claire had it. Sayid had it. It happened whenever someone died but was brought back to life by Smokey - part of his corrupt essence stayed inside of them and slowly rotted who they were, turning them into Smoke Zombies. Sayid was able to resist it in the end - but I think that was an enormous act of will and only doable because he hadn't been under his influence for very long. Claire was fighting it, but I'm guessing she only truly came back to her senses when the island cracked open and Smokey lost his supernatural powers.

14) WHY DID CLAIRE LEAVE AARON BEHIND AND WANDER OFF INTO THE JUNGLE? As Claire had the sickness, I'm guessing she caught it when Keamy & crew attacked Dharma/Otherville. Sawyer found her lying bloodied in her back yard, behind her annihilated house. I always believed Claire died that day in the explosion, and I now believe I was right - only she didn't stay dead. Smokey brought her back to life, and in doing so, imbued her with his darkness, which gradually took control over her until one night it told her to leave Aaron and walk away with her father - also, as we know, the Man in Black.

OK, I'm going to stop for now. I feel like I've written a novel, or at least a decent-sized short story. Feel free to comment, argue, or pose further questions - I know there are a zillion more. I'm willing to take my shot at pretty much any of them - except for who Penny's mom was. Because my answer is, I don't give a sh*t. Peace.

The Prodigal Procrastinator Returns!

Hello, gang!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

I realize I have been a wee bit absent over the past several months - I always procrastinate when it comes to my writing (for shame), but 8 whole months is sort of ridiculous. At least I have a good excuse.

MARRIAGE!

That's right...I got hitched - believe it or not, it happened. Last Saturday, May 8th, 2010, in front of about 110 of our friends and family, my wonderfully amazing Brad promised to walk the dog every morning for the rest of our lives (with the exception of weekends). Oh, and also, love, honor, and cherish me, all that good stuff.

It was amazing. It was spectacular. It was expensive.

It was also time-consuming. So much so that I've written next to nothing since September - and not just on this blog. No screenplays, maybe three lines of my novel, and only a handful of restaurant reviews for examiner.com (which I may kick to the curb anyway, for lack of inspiration and reward).

Today is my first official day back to reality. We mini-mooned last week away, then took the weekend to recuperate - vacationing is hard work, yo.

But here I am...and as I sat in front of my computer all day, wasting time on Facebook (damn you, Family Feud!!!) and looking at wedding pics, it started to hit me:

I am just a tiny bit lost.

Not in a literal sense - anyone who knows me knows I am a human compass and an ace navigator on road trips - but in the sense that I've sort of come to the realization that I'm a little lacking in the focus/drive/goals department.

Acting was so much of my life for so long - and I have a couple of opportunities to get back into that world. But do I want to? TBD. I love it...but it's so heartbreaking. And I've come to terms with the fact that chances are very, VERY slim that it will ever be a career that can actually support me. And if you think I'm waiting tables or folding t-shirts or answering phones for people who are way dumber than me for the rest of my life, you've got another think coming.

Writing is a passion. I love it. But it ain't all that much easier to break into than acting is...and screenwriting means staying in this cesspool called Hollywood, with its black heart and fake smiles - and the traffic. Ooooh, that traffic.

But what else is there for me? I'm reeling in my chair, just trying to figure out what sounds less painful to me - going back to school for a teaching (?) degree, or digging into a field like real estate or travel? And the worst part of it is, I'm no longer a spring chicken. I'm not that sprightly and attractive 20-something go-getter that every company wants to hire because she's smart and young. It's not easy to consider starting anew at the ripe old age of 32, in any field. Can I really go back to being someone's assistant - someone who is likely younger than I am? And have I already mentioned how utterly annoying it is to work for someone who I could outsmart on any standardized test, any day of the week, possibly blindfolded? This isn't hubris here, people, this is rock-hard reality. There are a lot of ass-dumb people out there running the world.

So I don't know. So here I sit. So my brain rots as I scream at my computer for the fast money round not including any questions about movies or tv.

But at least I got the ball rolling on writing again...even if it's just for this meager little blog o' mine that very, very few people will ever see. Sometimes you've just got to do it for yourself.

(that's what she said.)

The Not-So-Amazing-Race

I've been a fan of CBS' "The Amazing Race" for many seasons, and my mom and I even applied to be on the show earlier this year (we would've been part of the current season, which just started Sunday night).

We were bummed that we weren't called, but after watching the premiere on Sunday I found myself less bummed and more angry - seriously, THESE are the people you've chosen to compete on the show?? THESE are the people you think America will find interesting enough to watch for several months?? My mom and I are real people with an actual, meaningful relationship - sure, we might not provide the drama of "ooh, are they gonna break up?!?," but at least we would've been LIKABLE (I think).

Here were my thoughts after watching:


Could they make worse casting choices?!?

In past seasons, the teams I found the least interesting were always the young, "dating" couples, the ones who ALWAYS say the race will either make them or break them - supposedly they're either headed for a separation or marriage.

Well, guess what - if you're facing that sort of dilemma, chances are good you aren't right for each other. Booooring.

Yet this season is chock full of these teams - so many, in fact, that I'm having trouble distinguishing them.

The rest of the field is made up of semi-famous people who don't really seem like they need the money, so why should I root for them?? There are only a couple of teams that actually feel like "real" people, and no one seems particularly smart - what happened to having some brainiacs on the Race? Half the fun is watching the competition between brains and brawn - seeing the smartypants dominate the mind puzzles while the athletes win the physical challenges.

I used to love this show, but I'm not sure I can stick out this season - and I've heard the same from many others who used to be fans. Here's to hoping the producers & casting peeps try a little harder next time around.

BITCH FEST #3

BITCH FEST #3: People parked in their cars on the side of a busy street who decide to unceremoniously throw their driver's side door wide open into oncoming traffic.

You know what I mean.

You're driving along in the right-hand lane of a busy street - I mean, it's got to be at least SOMEWHAT busy, after all, there is more than one lane going on here. You're rolling along, minding your own driving bidness, when out of the blue you see what looks to be a fairly large object flying at the front of your car.

Giant, angry sewer rat? Misplaced tumbleweed? No, sir. Just some d-brain who decided it was time to give some innocent motorists a little taste of cardiac arrest.

If I'm in my parked car on a busy street, here's what I usually do. I crack my door carefully, wait for traffic to slow (if not totally stop), then I gradually open the door inch by cautious inch, until I can just barely squeeze my side-turned butt out of the car. I do the same when re-entering the vehicle. Stop, stand, look, wait, open/jump-in all at once.

But not everyone follows these simple steps...oh nooooooo. Some a-munchers clearly think they're the only people on the planet, as evidenced by their blatant ignorance of the vehicular death they nearly caused.

Why in god's name would you ever - EVER - throw your door completely WIDE OPEN into traffic?!? I've only got about a foot and a half of room to spare in the first place, and your 3 foot long door suddenly entering my airspace means I have to choose between swerving dangerously close to the car in the left-hand lane or risk leaving a good chunk of my paint on yours, either of which could result in any number of catastrophic outcomes.

So please, idiot person in your parked car, the next time you're about to fling open your door into the middle of crazy L.A.-style traffic, stop and think a moment about the fact that you could seriously harm someone...and the fact that I've vowed to take your hand off with my side-view mirror the next time it happens.

Sorry - I guess I just didn't see you there! Sucks that you can't drive anymore, what with your one-hand and all. (And to the rest of the human race....you're welcome.)

My Brain, the Nerf Football

Why does it have to be so d*mn difficult to get back into the swing of things after a great vacation???

Granted, I'm not doing much these days...writing from home, walking the dog, taking some classes...but even that stuff seems like the ultimate grind after a long weekend of complete and total R & R.

If only life could be an endless stream of vacation days...

Of course, if I had a more solid feeling of where I'm going with my life (professionally, not personally), that might help. This state of constant flux, not knowing what I'm meant to do with myself, not sure what my future will hold or if I'll ever, EVER find a career path that I find (at the least) tolerable...it's a bit much at times. Particularly after a break from it all, not thinking about these overarching concerns for five whole days...let's just say that I've had a fairly rough time slipping back into the realm of self-flagellation.

Ugh.