The way people pronounce things is a fascination of mine. We're planning out our film shoot, day one of which is this Saturday. Along the way, the word "horror" has come up a lot.
Keisuke says "harr-ar". I say "whore-er".
This may be one of those definitive pronunciation differences that marks a New Yorker vs. a New Englander. The funny thing is, I think we both say "whore-ible".
How do you say it?
I'm not the world's biggest participant in social networks. I have my fingers in a dozen pies, but I wouldn't say I'm "active" on any of them except Facebook... which I use for about 10 minutes a day, to communicate with far-flung friends and members of my book club.
That being said, I have glowing things to say about bookish social networks, as Deeplinking calls them. I don't have time or patience to repeat my reading lists on more than one site, so I chose GoodReads at random and use it primarily as a list manager -- to keep track of what I'm reading or want to read. I have yet to use it for recommendations, because between The New York Review of Books, Bookmarks Magazine, Entertainment Weekly, and NPR, I'm hardly at a loss for suggestions.
One thing it is really good for, I'm finding, is being inspired by the number of readers out there, and the quality of their minds.
When I was in San Francisco, on impulse I bought a copy of Louise Gluck's poetry collection, Averno, at City Lights. You should see how many thoughtful reviews this book has on GoodReads. (Over 12 pages.) Granted, it was a finalist for the National Book Award, so it's hardly obscure. But it's still so encouraging to see that many people are reading and connecting to poetry. Kind of makes me want to get back to writing some.
The other day I had a glimmer of and old familiar feeling. I'd gone to see Iron Man on Friday night, knowing I still had 70 pages or so to read of Northanger Abbey before book club convened at noon on Saturday. When the movie was finished, I admitted aloud that I'd either have to stay up late to read, or get up early. Either way, I had a firm deadline, fast approaching.
And it felt great. It reminded me of being a student again.
Right now I don't have many firm deadlines. I'm directing a video shoot on Saturday, but we're prepped for that. I have another one in two weeks, but that's too far off to feel imminent.
Reading, writing and cramming are what I miss. So if you need something written, like, stat, let me know. I could use the adrenaline rush.
Thanks to John Unger for the inspiration.
Idea Engineer
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Please add more in the comments if you have suggestions!
I have nothing to say about Lost this week except "WTF?" and "That was awesome."
I already knew Christian Shepherd was the guy in the cabin, but John being a reincarnate, like the Dalai Lama? Never saw that coming. I hate that we don't yet know why Richard never ages. Horace was a time-traveler, obviously (the bloody nose). The island gave Jack appendicitis -- why?
I suspect Jacob is non-corporeal and needs a host body. Maybe the only body that will fit him is the Chosen One, who is probably Aaron. No clue why.
# # #
Crazy-busy week here. Crazy-busy month. I need some sleep.
Last weekend's trip to San Francisco was great. We arrived on Friday with no clue how we'd get ourselves from Oakland to our hotel near the Civic Center BART stop, but thanks to the nice old fellow who works the Oakland Ground Transportation Info booth, we ended up using the shuttle + BART. From that point until the moment we flew back to Los Angeles, it was all public transport, all the way (with one minor cab ride exception when we were running late for dinner).
Coming from L.A., BART + Muni = an unfathomable pleasure. I can't even put it into words. There's something about easy, affordable public transportation that makes you feel like you're in a real city and not the world's largest county fair parking lot. (A giant "Ahem!" to L.A.'s civil engineers, politicians and car lobby.)
Observations from and about The Bay Area:
1. At the OAK airport, I saw a taxi with a "1-800-411-GOOG" ad plastered across the top. So geeky.
2. On BART, I heard a woman use "hecka" instead of "hella", because she was a Christian. (I know this because she was discussing where to find good Christian radio stations in the Bay Area.)
3. Oakland Airport makes you pay for WiFi.
4. Street fashion is layered, thrift-store inspired, and interesting. Women tend to have edgy, angled haircuts. People are just as thin in S.F. as they are in L.A., but somehow they look cooler, like their thinness comes from malnutrition brought on by long bouts of art vs. long bouts of self-denial.
High points of our trip:
1. Having drinks and dinner with Christina of Development Hell, and getting a tour of her apartment, which gave me major architecture envy.
2. Pomegranate chicken! (Since I first ate it 2 years ago in Las Vegas, it's become my "eat this while traveling to visit friends" dish of choice.)
3. Meeting a few new people at the 35 Years of Women at Dartmouth event on Saturday, and reconnecting with people I haven't seen since graduation. (One of whom routinely beats my butt at Scrabulous.)
4. A Vietnamese sandwich.
5. A piece of cold pizza that almost approximated the New York slice.
6. Long, uphill slogs during crisp evenings.
7. Taking public transportation everywhere.
8. Visiting Golden Gate Park's Botanical Garden.
9. Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge.
10. Lunch in North Beach.
#9 was one of those "do before you die" things, but I will never do it again. One blustery, freezing, loud, terrifying walk across a 1.5-mile bridge is plenty for me.
#10 was a revelation to both of us. I'd been to North Beach before, because I've never visited San Francisco without going to City Lights. But somehow I never made the connection that it was an Italian neighborhood.
Several years ago, when my aunt visited L.A. from Connecticut on her first-ever flight, she looked out the window of my car and asked, "Where are all the Italians?" I felt much the same way when I first moved to L.A. and wanted to make a stromboli for a work Christmas party. I couldn't find a bag of pre-made pizza dough anywhere.
So now I finally have the answer to where all the Italians are... a one-hour plane ride north. A little far to travel for pizza dough and the anisette and confectioner's sugar smell of a real bakery, but it's better than nothing. Definitely going back.
Late last night we got back from a long weekend in San Francisco. We went because my college had a "35 Years of Co-Education" event, in honor of which a group of alumnae had organized a day-long series of panels on business, education, politics, entertainment, medicine, the arts, and so on. It was cool and inspiring, I met a few people and reconnected with a few others, and I got a cool baseball cap with a pink "D" on it.
The most encouraging part of the day for me was the "The Road Less Traveled" panel, which was overpacked with bodies. Apparently there are many smart and accomplished women, ranging in ages from 25 to 55, who are still zig-zagging down their life paths, trying to find a fit that's right for them. One of the major themes that emerged from the talk was the idea that people get restless when they possess an intellectual or leadership gift that is not being used in their work. This is when it's time to create your own path, one that synthesizes all your competencies into one package.
Food for thought.
The other lesson I learned, from the panel on "Women in Entertainment":
If you're in the arts (writing, acting, singing, dancing, etc.) and you don't feel like you have no other choice, then don't do it. It's too hard to make a living.
I've heard this advice many times, but I always ignored it because it was thorny, and listening to it would require me to make a major decision I wasn't ready to make. Namely, whether or not to step away from creative writing and step toward something else.
Now that I'm older, I think it's time to listen to that advice.
I've been dragging my feet on screenwriting for years, never quite sure it was right for me. On Friday night over dinner, someone asked me, "If you got a million dollars tomorrow, would you still write screenplays?"
Let's put aside the fact that a million dollars isn't enough to retire on. Minor technicality. But he was asking me the "Office Space" question, and my answer was "No."
If I had tons of money, why would I waste my time sitting inside, writing a screenplay, when I could be out there in the world, enjoying what there is of it before we destroy it completely?
So though I'm still fine-tuning my concept of what's next, I know what's not next. All the same old things I've been avoiding doing for the last 8 years: shmoozing, handing out copies of scripts, writing more scripts, taking low-paid entertainment jobs. At the end of the day, the potential upside isn't enough for me. And the journey is not at all fun... it's just a drag that keeps me indoors when I should be outside, playing in the sun.
I'm not saying I'll never write another script or finish the things I'm sitting on. I'm just saying, I'm not out to become a career screenwriter, or even a career novelist. I'm out to become a Synthesized, Happy Human who's using all her skills to make some kind of impact on people or the environment. Part of that is going to involve more exercise and outdoor activities; part, more travel; part, writing; and part, additional education. I'm still putting together the plan.
Though I've been writing poems, fiction and journals since I was 8, and probably still will, it's never been my compulsion to become an Oscar winner. That's somebody else's dream, some family members' ideas of where I should take my skills and self-motivation and how I should parlay them into dollar signs. Not mine.
So, adios, albatross. You have been released. It's time for me to zig-zag on to the next thing.
Audio: screenwriting advice from Bruce Campbell
