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Sunday is Show and Tell

I went to a university in New York. For one year. There. I said it. Depending on the day I am either ok with dropping out of the university after my freshman year or I have pains of feeling like an idiot. I feel like if only I had stayed another year or two that going back to getting a degree wouldn’t feel so overwhelming now. But I left after one year. I had NO qualms about it at the time. In fact I was pretty smug about it then. I knew that I would be starring on Broadway or a feature film in a matter of months and to twiddle my thumbs at University would be a waste of time.

Plus tuition was too much money.

I had made plans to enroll full time in a fancy pantsy acting school that was affiliated with the University and felt like as an actor that was just perfect. Doctors went to medical school, lawyers went to law school, and actors went to school at 3rd floor walk-ups across the street from a liquor store and a little theatre with a bunch of blue men.

And while the decision was entirely mine I will admit now that I had a tad bit of influence from a certain thinly stripped man named John. John came to give a little informal talk at the University and I went with some guy whose name I can no longer remember and a notebook that I reserved for such talks. You see I was the girl with stock in blank books. I had one for everything: addresses, notes for classes, recipes, things that I heard on the street or subway that were funny and even a book reserved exclusively for jotting town words of wisdom from guest lecturers.

We were early to John’s talk. I made sure of that. But I was not prepared for the amazingness that was about to happen. John began his ‘program’ by informing the mild mannered crowd that he was kicked out of our University his freshman year. He then said it was the best thing that ever happened to him. And something in my brain went, “oh. So you aren’t automatically a loser if you don’t finish University properly…hmmmm.”

And for the next several years it was, indeed, proved to be a good decision to drop out. I ended up graduating from my acting conservatory with an off-Broadway play under my belt and loads of experience. Plus I was able to have more free time to wait tables! I felt almost liberated for not having a university degree. There certainly couldn’t have been high expectations for me. It was that lack of expectation that allowed me to decide to move to L.A. and eventually get a job that people with multiple degrees would have killed for.

But still there are times that feel like people would be shocked to know that I am a college drop out. I do have a bad tendency to feel as if I am not smart enough because of it. And yet the very idea of going back to school exhausts me. I will probably end up being one of those weekend news stories about the 90 year old woman that FINALLY went and got herself a college degree.

Until that time I take a small amount of comfort in knowing that John turned out ok. So maybe I will too. So today I am showing (after the telling) a photo from that fateful evening.

Have something you want to show and tell? Read about how to join in on the fun here.

Emo meets Elmo

I really should be using my photoshop energy for headers (did you see the newest ones?!) but I couldn’t help myself…

P.S. Hey you GUYS! Did you hear the awesome news?

Tuesday’s Tallying, etc.

This weekend I got a random refund check in the mail from a place I had never heard of. I wanted to just thank the random Gods, deposit the check and move on about my March. But then Mother had to get all clever on me with her movie plot notions that it could be a scam check or a mistake check or an oscar winning check (sorry, bad pun). It was enough to make me realize that with the sort of luck I have had within this era of my life if I deposited the check it most likely would end up as some sort of major drama and hell.

I did much internet researching on the name (a series of initials) and address (a state I never lived in) of the check and came up with nothing familiar. Clearly it was some sort of voodoo check that if deposited would trigger a series of horrific and lifetime movie worthy events.

Yesterday, after looking at the check sitting all casual on my desk I noticed that it had a major bank name on it. I thought if I called the bank maybe they could break the anagram for me and at least clue me in on the legitimacy of this paper annoyance. Or maybe I would be the hero figure helping break an international check forgery ring. There might be a reward. You never know with these things.

(and just to be clear, this is, by no means, a whopping, change your life sort of check. it’s maybe a week’s worth of groceries including a cheap bottle of wine)

It took forever to get a human being at the bank. There really isn’t an automated prompt for people trying to verify if a check is legit. I finally had to be sneaky and pretend I was looking for a new home equity loan to get a real live person on the phone. It took less than 1 minute (me relaying the series of numbers at the bottom of the check and her typing it in) to verify that the check was real.

Somehow I am the recipient of a refund from a medical test I had nearly four years ago. Four. That is weird, right? But I’ll take it and chalk it up to some sort of ripple in a wave in the ocean.

_________________________________

It’s a Meme! Because I am a giant needy dork I must tell you how geeked out I was to actually be selected to participate in a meme. Seriously. No one ever picks my sorry ass and I was starting to get a complex. Now, thanks to Laura, I feel like I got picked for the kickball team. Yay.

Step 1. Reference back to the blog that sent you
Step 2. Make a list of 5 things that you have to get done this week, no matter how small
Step 3. Get 2 other people off their asses to get their shit in order

1. I must empty out the fridge
2. I should deposit the random refund check
3. I want to make a burrito dinner
4. I need to fill up the car with gas before the price goes up more
5. I would like to spend thursday afternoon taking photographs

I know, not such a groovy or fun list, but that’s my life: neither groovy nor fun. I am tagging Sarah Solitaire and The Family O. Also, let me know if you, like me, never get tagged and we can spend the week tagging the crap out of each other.

________________________________

Now for the Tally-Ho event of the week. (no, I did not just call you a ho. calm down.) Please put on your vintage polka dot swimwear and dive into our photo friday pool. Do a few laps and enjoy the arty and clever contributions of the week and then towel off and come back here to vote. The photographer with the most votes will win creative control for the following week.

Go to the Main Photo Friday Site to see this week’s theme.  I am looking forward to seeing how you guys capture the theme. Heh.

Don’t tell me…

I’m such a damn loser. I fell asleep watching the Oscars. The last thing I remember was Jon bringing out Marketa Irglova so that she could properly accept her award for best song as she was cut off by the orchestra earlier. (speaking of best song…I am so glad the song from Once won. I thought the movie was so sweet and simple but the music was amazing.)

So I have no idea who won in the top categories yet. Thank goodness I recorded it, but I might just sneak a peak on line. Not like it will be a big surprise. Or will it? Wait, don’t tell me! (ok. I just saw the winners.)

But really what I love the most is the red carpet stuff. The stupid interviews, the jerky camera work. Where else can you hear Ryan Seacrest ask Jessica Alba if she is going to breastfeed. WTF! Last night there was a really creepy and tense moment involving Gary Busey and Ryan. It was so effing weird. Thankfully it is already up on youtube so I can share the moment with you. All I will say is poor Jennifer Garner…she looks freaked beyond words.

As far as clothes…Nothing really screamed BEST dressed to me, but loads screamed nightmare. Off the top of my head I rolled my eyes at the stylings of: Ellen Page, Tilda Swinton (seriously horrible), Daniel Day Lewis’s wife, and sorry, but Jennifer Hudson could have been dressed so much better.

What did you guys think? Any great moments? What did you think of Jon Hosting? & why was the Rock there?

Poll-arized

Blood was drawn at 7am this morning and I am sure I won’t hear anything until this evening. We are rooting for anything under 10.

Here is a small list of things to do while you wait:

1) Go visit my friend, Sarah, and send her all the warm fuzzie, “It better fucking work!” vibes you have. Today is finally the transfer day for the long awaited FET.

2) Go visit the Photo Friday site & take a look at what Niobe has selected for our theme this week.

3) Watch this video.

and if the Beastie Boys aren’t your thing, watch this video of one of my bestest friends on The Price is Right.

4) Vote in the poll! The photographer with the most votes wins creative control power for next week. Check out the work in the pool and then come back and cast your vote.

A sing-a-long

I needed to test the you tube plug-in I just installed so I went hunting for one of my favorite Sesame Street songs ever. Let me know if the video does not show up in your browser.

Testing of the poll

Trying to figure out how to embed a poll within a post…oh! It works. I need to figure out how to make each option have a link, so there is more tinkering to be done. But feel free to place this super important Saturday vote. heh.

February 29: a proposal

Thank you for the hand holding yesterday. Today is a fresh start. A chance to power through and be in the moment. A good friend, who is still suffering the reverberation of a recent end of a pregnancy, wrote to me last night about the idea of having a memorial. I will admit that at the time I read her e-mail it didn’t click for me. This morning, however, it does.

There has been a lot of loss recently. And before that. And before that. And before that. So many of us have either had a loss of pregnancy or known someone that did. With each announcement of a loss, and maybe this is just me, but each post of loss brings me right back to my loss. My unpregnant moments. And then the moments of friends. It is a circle of sadness.

One of the shitty things about loss, especially this kind (& please forgive me the word “loss”. I know many of you hate that word, but for lack of a better one at the moment I am using it) is that there are so many dates to smack you upside the face. There are the dates of trimesters not reached or estimated due dates not achieved…almost birthdays, almost first days of school. All of those damn almosts.

This year there is a date on our calendar that only shows up every four years. This year I propose that we take a small moment of this “extra” day and commemorate our losses. On February 29th post whatever feels right to you to honor your grief. You can simply post a photograph, or a poem, a post with no words…whatever helps you through. If you have not known loss first hand you can post in friendship for those that have.

If you don’t have a place to post I will post anything you wish to share on that day on my blog.

If anyone would like to create a symbol for this memorial please contact me. I did some research, but nothing is feeling quite right.

Signs that things are getting better:

Waking up is easier to do lately. I’m no longer dependent on my alarm to make sure that I am up and ready for GM when she gets up around 8am. For two mornings now I have been able to get up, get ready and have some time to myself in the morning. This is a shift from just last week where getting out of bed was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

My cell phone is on. After I made the appropriate, “it’s over” calls I turned off my cell phone and let the battery fade out. I needed to unplug for a bit. This weekend I felt ready to turn her back on. I was able to sit and listen to the messages of support and love. I was even able to listen to a message from the NEC where they had called to see if I had had a 4th beta. Not only did I listen to messages, but I also, gasp, called some people.

I am making plans. I have a friend (a former neighbor) that will be in town this weekend and I made plans to get together with her for a drink this weekend. This means that I will have to shower, put on clean clothes and possibly do something inspired with my hair. These are all things that, a week ago, would have exhausted me just to think about.

I am watching tv sitting up. A few days ago you would have found me supine on the couch, eyes glassed over, as I got my daily fix of entertainment news. Now I am upright and engaged as I hear the latest news on fallen pop stars.

I’m thinking about recipes. As in cooking something. As in preparing food that does not require a microwave or toaster oven. I have been existing on home made quesadilla roll ups for weeks (for reals) and finally, FINALLY that hankering is subsiding. This morning I woke up thinking how nice it would be to make something fresh and yummy. Upon inspecting the fridge I see that this will require a trip to the grocery store and THAT is killing me to think about…but it’s a start.

Reading of the baby and expecting a baby blogs is going better. I still get small palpitations over the following: ultrasound posts, posts discussing baby names or nursery themes and I have to click away if someone is asking for baby care advice. The love is always there, but you will be pleased to know that I am not turning as deep a shade of envious green. Progress!

The flowers are dead. Meaning the roses and other flowers given out of love and sympathy are now crusty and shriveled and marinating in green fungus scented water. When the flowers die and you find yourself knowing that soon you must take them out to the trash it sort of helps. End of an era jargon & shit.

Housekeeping is again a priority. I pity the family member that must put up with the return of my bossy cleaning ways. I must have a clean kitchen before I can go to bed. There must be an element of tidy going on in the den. The month plus of my being easy going on these issues was plenty. Now hand me my clorox!

I am able to be furious. Yesterday’s early morning news reports about caffeine PISSED ME OFF. Jennifer said it best so I won’t elaborate. But seriously- I don’t need any more heapings of guilt.

I am contemplating things. Things such as setting up an appointment with a dermatologist, or getting that tattoo, or seeing if GM’s awesome hair dresser can make me a redhead again. I am thinking about ME.

I am also thinking about you. I spent hours helping a friend set up her new website AND I am thinking about posting a “How to Make Sweet Iced Tea like Cali’s Grandmother” photo essay this weekend. See? Mad love coming out of me.

And in case you haven’t checked it out- all of the flicking that you are doing (in addition to some extremely generous and lovely direct to my FET paypal account donations) are adding up. THAT is the key behind a large part of my feeling human again. I no longer feel like I am bound and cowering in a tower of doom. I have you all to thank for that. I am nearly 1/4 of the way towards the goal.

There is an additional category within the Great Links of Blogs to Read called ‘Scratching Flick’. These are blogs of others that have adventures of Flick Cons the Bads going on as well. Please go visit and help where you can.

So tell me. How do you know when you are out of the funk?

Fun Facts Monday

1) According to my Mother, when I was quite little, I got very worked up over a certain adult conversation that was going on. The topic at hand was the city of Miami. Everyone was talking about it and the more they did the more upset and frazzled I became. When my Mother asked me what the fuck my deal was (in age appropriate early 1980’s terms) I explained that I felt it was rude and shitty (again, in age appropriate terms) that everyone had an Amee but me. (pronounced am-E) It took a while, but it was finally realized that my upsetedness was simply due to my misunderstanding that Miami was a city and not some sort of possession called an Amee that everybody had but moi.

2) By the way, GM thinks we live in Miami. For reals. Friday, at the beauty salon, there was a conversation under the hair dryer about the local weather and how nice it was that we weren’t having to deal with snow or freezing temperatures (clearly this was not me that GM was talking with). GM nodded her head and seemed to be engaged in the conversation and then she added, “It is just so nice to be living in Miami, isn’t it.” The women she was conversing with looked up at me, matching crooked eyebrows, and I just smiled and shrugged. I mean seriously, who the fuck knows where that came from?

We came home and I got GM tucked into her fancy recliner and turned on a show for her to watch while I put together some lunch. The not yet familiar sounds of a Who song began to play and I looked over at the tv. I glanced over at GM to gauge her level of contentment and she was entranced by the glorious colors flashing around the television screen.

As I brought GM her lunch I commented that this would be a fun show to watch while we ate. She bantered back, “I think it is nice to be able to watch a show that features our hometown.” BOING! Light-bulb flash! I now realized why GM has us living in Miami: I have been recording and having us watch CSI Miami during the day.

Until a week ago I hadn’t seen an episode of this show as David Caruso gives me the bigtime creeps. The acting is horrible, the plotlines laughable, and the mannerisms that each character must wade through are knee slappingly funny.

I adore the original CSI and watch CSI NY out of love and respect for Mr. Sinise, but this Miami version is wacked. That being said- CSI Miami is the most visually stunning show ever. If you have a high def tv I dare you to watch this show and not fall off of your sofa blinded by the vivid and bright pretty colors. I think that, more than anything else, is what captivates GM.I also have to wonder if the Golden Girls planted the Miami seed years ago…

3) I managed to wear the same, exact outfit three days in a row. I put on a pale pink, long sleeved t-shirt and a simple pair of black pants on Friday morning and I didn’t take them off until this morning. And, not only did I wear these clothes, but I actually left the house wearing them at least 3 times. Oh yeah. When I do lolling I do it very well. The brilliant thing is that every single time before I left the house I would ask Mother if I looked ok and each time she would say, “oh you look so cute”. I have to wonder if she said this out of actuality or a sense that there was no fucking way in hell I was going to wear anything different so she might as well go with the flow…

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: A&E is running a CSI: Miami marathon all effing day today.  oooooh!

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