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Blog started in Jan 2005: 1st entries for Write in Every Genre. Then the REAL ME begins |
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It Hurts When I Stop Talking Sometime in Fall of 1998, when a visit from Dad was infrequent, and primarily at the mercy of his 88 Toyota making the 50 mile journey, I was being treated to lunch. The restaurant was my choice, I think. Sisley Italian Kitchen at the Town Center mall was somewhere my dad had not yet tried, so that was my pick. Either I was being treated to the luxury of lunch and adult conversation without my husband and 5 year old son in tow, or that's just how the moment has lodged in my memory. The more I think about it, they probably were there, but enjoying the Italian food too much to bother interrupting. Daddy and his lady friend at the time, Anne, came up together and made a day of it with me and the family. We were eating together and talking about some of my scripts, stories, coverages, poems and other creative attempts that really were not seeing the light of day. I think I'd just finished a group reading of The Artist's Way and was in a terribly frenetic mood over my writing. I think I'd just given them an entire rundown on a speculative Star Trek script. My Dad asked me point blank, “Why don’t you write it?? Anne agreed. It sure sounded like I wanted to write it. Why wasn't I writing seriously? It's what I'd set out to do when earning my college degree in Broadcasting many years earlier. Heck, I should, I agreed non-verbally. “I will.” But, I didn’t. Blogs can be wild, unpredictable storehouses of moments, tangents, creative dervishes, if you will. I'm getting a firmer handle on my creative cycle. My mental compost heap (which is a catch phrase from Natalie Goldman or Julia Cameron - I can't think which, right now) finally seems to be allowing a fairly regular seepage of by-products. That may be a gross analogy, but I give myself credit to categorize my work in raw terms. It proves that I'm not so much the procrastinating perfectionist that I once was. Still, I always seem to need prompts and motivation. Being a self-starter is the next step. My attempt to keep up in the Write in Every Genre Contest at the beginning of the year seemed like a perfect point to launch the blog. |
| My movie-going Summer-Fall using both Fandango VIP+ and AMC A-list A-list let's you see up to 3 movies per week Fri-Thu, and I appear to have averaged about 3 per month Avengers: Endgame (2019) with the family Tolkien by myself Yesterday (2019) by myself Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) my spouse and I Yesterday (2019) with my youngest Avengers: Endgame (2019) my spouse and I Once Upon a Time in Hollywood by myself Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw youngest and the two of us The Peanut Butter Falcon sent my mom and my youngest' while my spouse and I watched Angel Has Fallen in IMAX Downton Abbey (2019) by myself The Peanut Butter Falcon by myself Abominable (2019) youngest, a friend and the two of us Gemini Man: The IMAX 2D Experience spouse and I The Current War: Director's Cut by myself Harriet (2019) by myself Midway (2019) spouse and I Ford V Ferrari spouse and I The Good Liar by myself A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood spouse and I Last Christmas (2019) by myself Maleficent (2) my son and I Knives Out |
| Listening to album, The Last Ship, created five or more years ago by Sting (Gordon Sumner)'s semi-autobiographical musical tale. I bought tickets to see the production coming to L.A. in January 2020. So, there's a line in one of his songs within it, which states: Love is the saber, Love is the shield. Only because of this past week, that line of poetry, immediately connects in my mind to my high school yearbook, which is perennially titled, The Sword & Shield. It doesn't matter that a few decades have rolled by since I walked its quad and classrooms. A terribly young student made my alma mater a killing field last Thursday. I have not lived there for a long time, but I know plenty who stay in that valley for its perceived safety and family-friendliness. It took me by surprise, to realize a day or two later, where I was focused on all the details of that day, and even felt I was being annoying to co-workers stating several times in shock, "that is my school," "I went to that school," "Saugus was my home." Other people were not in that same headspace -- a day or two later other people do not know I went there, are freshly receiving the information, and it is clear they can say they are sorry, but not really care. |
| I know what I used to love about school...all levels of school...there was challenge, and the opportunity to share, speak, write or draw without too big a fear of lasting judgment. The best unknown when you are young is that this process is occurring. THAT IS THE BEAUTY OF GETTING OLD and looking back: reviewing one's actions, pleasures, successes and failures. I got triggered by something I read today -- starting with the Letters to the Editor, and then back to the original Opinion piece -- an article in the paper I work for about a Hanford, CA woman, allegedly a habitual meth user, being charged with murder by the D.A. due to the stillbirth of her latest child, a son. It didn't happen until I began writing a compassionate response that I even knew myself, my past self that was fiery and opinionated in college, one that was informed by many courses and discussions in Women's Studies. This is the article :https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2019-11-17/baby-born-dead-meth-make-a-murderer} And this is my comment left in support of and after the hardened, negative responses to the Editorial Board's view. Now there are additional published responses rejecting the Editorial Board's opinion here, on top of the comments listed. I read the Board's main point as the slippery slope of interpreting the law to the detriment of women, when that was not why "fetus" was added to the law. No one has addressed the general disregard of her healthcare providers (did she have any?), nor the full disregard of Ms. Becker's sexual partner(s). This charge of murder seems like a call for a stoning. Does no one see that skew and the injustice? The 21st Century is much darker than has been imagined -- particularly for women. I cannot fathom how anyone of either sex could leap to the charge of murder without deep questioning and clear-eyed viewing of this punitive bias She is so very young, and seemingly not in a location nor circumstance that empowers her whatsoever. May she have many step to her defense. |
| I just watched the video recording of the 40th Annual Media Access Awards. It has been professionally produced like other Hollywood award shows over the last 4-5 years or so. I was a paid office worker involved with that group in 1990. Then it was groundbreaking for us to have the Casting Society of America and Variety and Hollywood Reporter involved. Now, to their credit, they have all the unions involved. It has been a good year for inclusion. It is such an odd realization that I do not always remember people's names. I have historically been better than my spouse at recalling folk's names, but now, even for the life stories I tell... there begins to be slight drop outs in information. I recall that on the first day of my job with the Media Access Office, I negotiated/accepted a donation from someone of note. And yet, I no longer am sure who it was a spoke to on the phone that day. If I had the financial books to look back on, I could confirm it. My stab in the dark tells me: Loreen Arbus. I have a near-photographic memory, but it too is not perfect. I can see Loreen Arbus' name printed on a standard blue bank check -- so is that a weird thing to remember? of this not remembering, I guess it is frustrating, because I do clearly remember receiving a $200 dollar check the next year from Cindy Costner (Kevin Costner's wife at the time. See, I can remember the amount, and I know it is correct.Yvonne was new as the Office Manager in that Wells Forgo property on Ventura Blvd., Encino. |
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