My mom took this picture from her front stoop in Baltimore. While we got soaked with monsoon-like rains yesterday, Baltimore, DC, Virginia and other East Coast areas got this. Hope you all are being safe, and please be careful. Make sure your clothes dryer vents are clear of snow before using, same with heaters and any other appliances that vent outdoors or have air intake. Lastly, make sure your car exhaust pipe is unblocked if you're going to be sitting in your car with the engine running. Every year people die from carbon monoxide poisoning because they didn't check those simple things.

I remember the Baltimore winter storm of 2003, my first winter after eight years in Los Angeles. We got 27 inches then. Send me your snow pics if you've got good ones. Maybe I'll post them here. :)

On Friday night, Shannon and I went to Out 4 Blood, A Night Featuring Artists from the True Blood Soundtrack at the Echoplex. Funny, as it was the same venue where we'd put on The Crystal Method concert when I was at Avid. It's a great venue with lots of places to roam, dance and two bars so you don't have to wait too long for your drink. It's in a weird area and easy to miss, but once you know where it is, you're good.

I'd asked Shannon if he wanted to go and since he hasn't seen True Blood, explained the music to him. I said, "Southern Fried Rock with a mix of Louisiana Delta Blues and a dash of sex and decadence."

He was game.

He sent me some music from the Tarbox Ramblers, and asked me if what I was talking about was similar to their sound. I dug the band so much that I followed them on Twitter and asked why they hadn't been discovered by the show yet. To my surprise, they answered, thanking me for the kind thought and said, "Maybe someday!" I was so moved by their music that I forwarded the song "Already Gone," to David Simon, creator of The Wire, whose new series "Treme" premieres on HBO in April of this year. He's a huge fan of New Orleans music and I'd remembered the incredible music on his iPod when he put it on shuffle one day in The Wire writer's office. He was the first person I thought of when I heard the haunting, storied Delta sounds of the band. He wrote me back, "That was awesome, thanks."

My neighbor Amy went as well, dressed as Amy Burley, the ill-fated character from the show, a waitress at Merlotte's who has a penchant for Jason Stackhouse and V, the drug of choice in the show, Vampire Blood. I knew she was going with friends, and we saw her in line after I scored a parking place across the street thanks to Shannon-Vision. She looked great, and we all sat and talked before the music came on. First band up was Pilbilly Nights, headed by one of the actors from the show, Todd Lowe who plays Terry Bellefleur. I took a picture of Amy with him after the show, and I would have had one too, except my camera card was full. No worries, as it's meeting them that's the fun part. As we stood in a hugging pose, Shannon, his always professional photographer eye at work, directed Todd to lower his chin for our shot. Without protest, he did and Shannon clicked...only to have the shot be for his memory only. Again, wasn't a big deal. The moment presented itself and we went for it. And, had fun.

John Doe, formerly from X played a stirring solo set next, followed by a fun set by Jace Everett who sings the theme song, "Bad Things." Next up, was CC Adcock, who just killed it. That's where the foot stomping and hollering began for those of us who let the music do its voodoo. It was pure Louisiana swamprock underscored with an infectious, deep and dark bayou rhythm. Awesome to the core.

Other cast members were there to introduce bands and mingle with the crowd, Stephen Moyer, Anna Paquin, Chris Bauer and Michelle Forbes. Everyone was in good spirits and having a great time. The great part, is that the Echoplex looks a little like a roadhouse on the inside, so the ambiance was just perfect for the show.

Tonight, I just returned from a fun Italian dinner in Echo Park to celebrate a friend's birthday. I'm stuffed to the gills. It was a good mix of people with again, lots of laughs and clinking of glasses. Shannon and a few others lost it when I accidentally dropped some filling from a cannoli into the candle and extinguished it. Trust me, funnier in person. Turned out that he'd photographed the restaurant owner's wedding! When we walked in, the two recognized each other at the same time. Small world indeed.

On another note, I bought my first audiobook through iTunes to help tackle my nighttime mind restlessness. So far, so good. Even if it takes me a bit to drift off, I'm lying in bed which is the important thing. My eyes are closed, my body is getting rest and my mind is passive, not active if that makes sense. And, I've been getting into bed earlier because I'm looking forward to continuing the story. I bought Stephen King's Under The Dome. Perfect for listening to at nighttime because it has a mysterious, supernatural element to it. Much like a campfire story. :)

So, off to bed. I'm up later than I should be but I wanted to finish this entry. After all, I promised.

I've absolutely loved the rains we're getting here. They provide a beautiful soundtrack for fading off to a nap, writing, life and just being. The other night, I was driving in it, and Jeff Buckley's "Dream Brother" came on the air. A mesmerizingly perfect soundtrack to nature's perfect visual. My headlights shining off the vinyl-like asphalt, drops of rain passing in front of globes of blue light from the street lamps, silver diamonds reflecting red, blue, yellow and white off my windshield before my wipers turned them into fast fading streaks. I was sixteen again, just discovering the freedom that a car brings to you and how it enables you to decide how you see the world.

We've also had lightning and thunder the last three days, which is incredibly rare for here. When the thunder clapped as if feet above our building, Oliver and Atticus launched like flying squirrels off their cat trees and ran into my room to hide under the bed. Only my female cat Scout and I remained in my living room. "Looks like you and I are the only ones with a pair of balls," I said to her. I opened the window to hear more. I miss the thunderstorms that living in a four season climate brings. Sure, we have four seasons in Los Angeles, but ours are found in the diet section. As I've mentioned before, growing up in the Midwest had a huge effect on my love of thunderstorms. More are expected tomorrow, in fact it's supposed to be the most serious of the lot.

I can't wait.

I'm continuing to live, if that makes sense, in the wake of the layoff. I'm going out with friends, reconnecting with others and enjoying my neighbors. I still make my daily coffee runs and am looking for my next job. The freelance one starts next week, so the double salary will be a great thing. I also have an awesome party coming up because my friend's company is launching their book, About Face, a stunning limited-edition art photography book shot by leading celebrity photographer John Russo. The book is gorgeous, as is its subject matter! It contains black and white portraits of Hollywood’s hot young male stars, many of whom will be at the party. I'm so proud of my friend, because she's hella talented and a just a stellar person. I had dinner a couple weeks ago with her, her husband and darling four-year-old daughter. I hadn't seen their daughter in a while, and boy they grow fast! We had such a great time, with plenty of laughs. Once again, I was reminded of the special people in my life. I'm so lucky in that regard. It's why I don't tolerate drama and bullshit, because I am surrounded by and know so much better. If I sense someone isn't genuine, or they do something that proves they aren't, then out they go. I approach work situations the same way. When I met my boss from my last job, I knew he was the real deal, genuine and talented. I'm still in touch with him and his wife, and feel I've not only had the pleasure of working with him, but also made a friend.

I got a bite on my resume from a company to which I applied. Nice to have that happen so soon after the layoff. It didn't hurt my ego one bit. And guess what? The woman who called me is a huge fan of The Wire. I can't underestimate the street cred, pun very intended, that working on that show has given me here in Los Angeles. Thank you, David Simon for that.

Speaking of that, I was excited when I saw Dominic Lombardozzi, who played Herc in "The Wire," going all Jack Bauer on Jack Bauer in this season's "24." "24" has been really good

Lastly, I still absolutely love my car. Every time I get in it, I get a little rush. For a little Friday fun, I found this clip of my car...yes, my car in a scene from the movie "Twilight." Same color, make, the whole thing. With the rains making the roads slick, I wonder if I could try the little spin out maneuver that the vampire does here. Watch this clip and tell me who's the real star in it. Hmmm? Not that I'm biased or anything.

Vignettes...

Had a fabulous New Year with laughs, fun, new friends and auld acquaintances. The best part, I hadn't planned to do anything so I just went with it when it landed in my lap. I bought prosecco, wandering the aisles along with other last minute revelers, everyone in good spirits looking for spirits. A Hispanic man in front of me wearing a gas station attendant's uniform bought two bottles of Cristal, and I looked away when his credit card was declined, and then the next one was. Finally, one went through, and I was wondering if that champagne would look so good once the bill came. But, for the night he'd get to be the man of the hour. Perhaps, that moment of glory will be worth every penny. After mingling at Shannon's, we went to Nolan's and everyone was in cooperative good spirits. Free New Year's hats and glasses of champagne were passed around to boisterous guests ready to leave 2009 behind. It was cooperative fun, with tables of people mingling with others, laughing, dancing, pretenses down. Hugs and kisses when 2010 nudged 2009 out of the way at midnight. After the bar, I drove everyone back to Shannon's, laughing at the three adults crushed into the back of my Volvo. My tolerance was high that night, but just to be safe I had Dennis, one of the bar owners, perform a sobriety test on me before I left. AAA was offering tipsy tow that night, and I was ready to make the call if needed. Back at Shannon's, more laughs, food and I finished off the Prosecco... from the bottle. We took turns loving Bono the chihuahua, who fell asleep in the crook of my arm.

My sister Joan came in for two layovers, the first we went to the beach and walked around pristine Santa Monica. It was an unusually gorgeous day, even for California. Warm enough for me not to need a jacket even though I had one on hand. That is, until the sun started creeping toward the water. During the gorgeous sunset we took pictures of each other, then asked an Armenian guy who was armed with a really nice camera and also photographing the sunset if he would mind taking a couple shots of us together. It worked out for all, as we took pictures of him with his camera, the lemon ball sun melting into an orange sherbet behind him. Strangers acting cooperatively and enjoying the novelty of new company. This is one of the photos he took of us with his camera, and was kind enough to email to me.



On her second layover, we hit Venice. I forgot how strange Venice is, a magnet for the odd, eccentric and many times disturbing. People with wild eyes and hair, wayward boys with loud mouths, bragging to each other about their latest fight, homeless teens whose signs read, "I need some fucking cash. Have a nice fucking day." And, all the medical marijuana you could possibly want, including a doc in the box ready to prescribe. We shopped, talked and avoided the hustlers, and were luckily cloaked by all the Alabama and Texas fans walking about, their shirts advertising their team and that they were tourists. We talked to a few guys in a bar who were Texas fans at a place we stopped to drink cocktails before dinner. That night, we ate at Nyala, a fantastic Ethiopian place in the Fairfax district's Little Ethiopia. And of course, Joan dug my new wheels.

A couple months ago, I went to Canele, where Andre Royo was the guest chef. Canele is his wife's restaurant in Atwater Village. I went by myself, because every single last person I asked, including two neighbors, had plans that evening. Turns out, it was actually better that way. They sat me at a large table where multiple parties were eating, and me being me, I make friends easily. Mostly, there were industry people, but really cool industry people, not tools. I think Andre just attracts that type. Canele was wonderful, with a decor and feeling that I can only describe as bohemian elegance, and the food was wonderful. I had a planned dinner, which included a "Sloppy Andre," wonderful pulled bbq pit beef, tender and soaking the bun. And of course, I ordered a Prosecco. It was one of those special, unique experiences that come from saying, "what the fuck" and rolling with it. It was great to get back in touch with someone from "The Wire," especially Andre, who is absolutely hilarious. After the hug, I said, "You play a good meanie!" He said, "I DO play a good meanie!" I was referring to a character that he played on "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" who was the polar opposite of the lovable yet tragic Bubbles from "The Wire." He came and sat with us during part of the dinner and had us in stitches.

Lastly, I'm taking the unemployment thing well, as I thought I would. I've already paid two months of rent, bills and two months of car payments, making me set until March. I was smart enough, upon getting the layoff news to alter my W4 to have way more deductions. This way, I'm getting the most out of my last paychecks and severance checks. I have plenty of money left over from those payments, so when the next one comes I'm going to pay rent and car through April, giving me a good solid three months of those out of the way. And, that's before even touching unemployment money. I also may have a freelance gig coming up next week, so that will put me in the coveted double salary zone for that week. As I was when I had the job, I'm just preparing for anything. And, still have the extra money to get my hair properly done.

After all, a girl must have her priorities.

I'll admit it, that this year I didn't feel the Christmas spirit, at all. It had nothing to do with me being laid off from my job, oddly enough. It just sneaked up on me too fast and I wasn't into it. I thankfully decided not to fly anywhere, which due to my lay off, turned out to be a good decision. It was money saved. Also, the weather wasn't cooperating with air travel, and I can't say that I'm sorry I missed that debacle. I didn't take out my Christmas decorations, nor play Christmas music. I did bake cookies for an office Holiday party, my first and last with the company, which were a big hit. I do make great cookies. I just have a knack with baking. Cooking however, I can't stand. I made chocolate chip meringue cookies, which I knew would be pretty unique. Every time I make them, people say they've never tried them before. And, I make good ones. Just enough chewy and crunchy, plenty of chocolate chips and barely bronzed. However, unlike my cookies, the office party was pretty dull. Lots of people whom I didn't know too well because everyone works from home a lot there. It was actually a little weird, walking in and having people wonder who you are, and doing the same to them.

I got great gifts this year, thank you family and friends! And, took the downtime that only this time of year presents and worked on some home projects. And, on my writing projects. The downtime I mean is the knowledge that everyone else is taking a break too, so there's no pressure in my case to worry about following up on job leads or being asked to complete any work. I'm still technically employed until the 31st.

I saw Avatar with a friend last week, and was surprised to see someone that I knew as the Head of Visual Effects on the movie, among other things. I'd been introduced to him through the Italian mother network. My stepmother Marie's mother knew his mother, and they conspired to get me a meeting with him over ten years ago. I was working at CareerPath, (now Careerbuilder) and we were doing profiles of people who had careers in the entertainment industry to parallel the release of the first Star Wars prequel. At that time, he had won an Oscar for Titanic for Visual Effects, and it was very interesting to interview him at his office at Digital Domain. A few years later, I met him at Sony, just after he'd completed the first Harry Potter, to talk to him about career opportunities, and he was gracious both times. I lost the interview that I did with him, but it was mostly question an answer format. He's now on his own, as the corporate side of the effects industry has become a who can bid the lowest game, and is still going gangbusters. Good for him. His name is Rob Legato. Google him. After seeing his name on the Avatar credits I sent him a congrats email. That movie was just stunning. I can't imagine the sleep he's having to make up now.

I hope all of you had wonderful holidays. Just because I wasn't into them this year doesn't mean that I don't hope everyone did have a magical moment. When you get them, it's awesome. Treasure them, as they are the best gifts. Sometimes they're fleeting, like smells of firewood or cinnamon mixed with pine, or the way the light reflects off the snow or windows. The quiet of Christmas Eve when even big cities experience a hushed moment. The unwrapping of gifts, lighting of candles, the thrill of finding the perfect gift for someone on your list. Nights so crisp and clear that the stars brightly twinkle as if winking at you from their celestial home, to name just a few. And, baking the perfect chocolate chip meringue cookies.

Ho, Ho.... Ho shit!




This masterpiece was created by my childhood friend Tony Donaldson, who tracked me down through Facebook, via another common friend. He's now a successful professional photographer, (take a look at his work... it's awesome) who lives in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter. I'll tell that incredible "small world" story another time, but just had to post this picture that he took of the Christmas decoration on his house. Is there any surprise that I was childhood friends with someone who would create this hilarious work of sheer diabolical brilliance?

No word yet on if anyone has stopped to help.

It looks like I have an update to my "Thankful" post.

"Thankful...

For having a great job, having had a great job, and still having my health, my family and most recently...my most awesome car."

And so on... the rest stays the same.

I had just been telling a neighbor that no one is guaranteed a job, and that I live my life with the knowledge that I could get the call the next day that says, sorry, we're laying you off.

I got that call the very next day. In fact, 120 people in my company got that call. And I'm one of the lucky ones. They're keeping me until December 31st. I'm one of about ten that they kept until then, the rest were laid off immediately. My boss was also laid off, and like me is one of the ten who are staying until New Year's Eve.

I'm okay about it, and not freaked out at all. I'm optimistic, seeing it as an opportunity for something new. And, know that for six months I had a great job and did great work there that will certainly pad my portfolio. I guess I'm so mellow about it because I've been through this so many times that I'm almost a professional at being downsized. When companies cut, creative is usually the first to go. I've been laid off, companies have crumbled under my feet, been bought, contract jobs that I've had have ended suddenly due to cost cuts or a regime change, etc. It's par for the course. This was a full-time job and I'll get severance pay, unused vacation and all the bells and whistles they give you to help your "transition."

And, what I told my neighbor was the absolute truth. I lived every day as if I would get that call, and was thankful that I had a job like that which not only was an incredible experience and awesome opportunity, it got me through six months of a bad economy. I took nothing for granted, and I won't in my next job either. Anyone who thinks they're indispensable, is well, kidding themselves. And, I've seen plenty of "indispensable" people, some who were very famous even, be forced out, laid off or fired. Others have dropped dead of heart attacks at young ages. And I mean that literally.

And that's also where perspective comes in. I've got it in spades. Jobs come and go. Your passion, integrity, sense of self and talent are yours to keep, no matter what. And, it's the people in your life, your health and freedom that are what's important.

Even when you have to put the acquisition of the designer purse on hold.

Thankful...

For having a great job, my health, my family and most recently...my most awesome car.

For all the wonderful souls whom I've met in my life, that accept me despite all my quirks, faux pas, marching out of time to my own drummer and bad hair days.

For the perspective to know what's important to fight for, and what's trivial radio static.

For having an incredible support system of friends and family.

For my ability to recognize toxic people, and more important for the wisdom to be able to walk away with no need for the last word, to right wrongs, fix misconceptions, and yet wish no ill will despite having endured their despicable behavior.

For my beautiful, wonderful cats and the love and laughs that they bring to me. As well as to my friends, family, neighbors and to passersby who say "Look!" and "Awww," when they see them looking out my window. I'm happy they provide a smile for you.

For having a fiercely independent spirit that pushes me forward when walking against the wind.

For my awesome friends, part of my California family, who had me over to Thanksgiving dinner this evening.

For my blog readers who send me the most incredible emails and share their own lives with me, make me laugh, think and remember how much we all have in common.

For the generous souls who donated to help Oliver, some, who have left this world since then.

For old friends who found me and got in touch through the wonders of the Internet.

For my creativity, sense of humor, ability to wonder and the gift to express them.

And, for my own hard-earned peace and belief in myself that steadies my course when doubt makes me waver.

For all of you asking how Oliver is doing...



Any questions?

Friday night, Shannon and I went to Nolan's, our neighborhood Irish pub, to welcome in the weekend. Nolan's is a great watering hole, as we know the owners, have gotten to know some of the patrons and always enjoy the eclectic group of people that come in there, both local and not. A lot of the people from the studios come in, and you'll be talking with someone and learn they're the stunt coordinator for "Flash Point," or that a provocatively-dressed cougar prowling the joint with her friends is Kristin Dunst's mother. Other times, you're talking to a traveling businessman who's just passing through and enjoying being a party to the local Los Angeles flavor. That is, in between times when his gaze softens and focuses far off, and you wonder if he's shifted to missing home and his family. It's a place where for the most part, people let their guards down and don't have to wear the front of their professions. Industry big shots mingle with coffee baristas, musicians laugh it up with accountants, writers like me and photographers like Shannon have used complete strangers to play jokes on one another. The latest, Shannon told a woman to approach me and gush over my writing. She did a damn good job, because I was totally confused and convinced that she had read something I wrote somewhere. I only find out about most people's work because it comes up after we've been talking a while. There's normally a really good vibe and people don't come there to puff out their chests like peacocks, looking for trouble.

Last night wasn't one of those nights.

It was around midnight and I had just started sipping my second lemon drop, the drink I order on Friday nights because the bartender who works that night makes them particularly well. I'd just put P.I.L.'s "Rise" on the juke, and while talking to Shannon, saw a flurry movement over his left shoulder near the kitchen bar. It took me a couple seconds to realize that it was a scuffle, and that the two men grappling weren't joking. "Oh my God, a fight!" I said to Shannon, who turned to see it just as all hell broke loose. Fists flew, beer was thrown, people ran toward the melee, and shouted. Then, it was two on one.

Shannon had run toward them, thinking that it was Dennis, one of the owners being attacked and went over to help. Dennis is a big guy who can handle his own, but he was recently injured when taking down a drug-addled man who had entered the bar during the day a few months back and began throwing things. His injuries consisted of a torn pectoral muscle and required surgery from which he's still recovering.

Because I'd seen it start, I knew that it wasn't Dennis and screamed his name along with the bartenders. Nolan's is two floors, and Dennis had gone up to the second floor. Hearing us, he ran down and broke it up. Several men grabbed the aggressor, who had crazy eyes brimming with rage, and blocked him as he tried to go at the guy again. The group shoved him backwards through the hallway and out the back door as a woman screamed at him all the way out, repeatedly calling him an asshole just for good measure.

And yeah, he was an asshole. In an act of supreme maturity and impulse control, he decided to throw wadded up napkins at a woman he didn't know. Another man, a regular, asked him what he was doing, and was answered with a flying fist. He fought him off until the douche nozzle's friend decided to help his compensating-for-his-micro-penis buddy, making it two on one. Brave souls, those two jerk-offs. I'm sure they're still feeling the echoes of pride from that night.

For about fifteen minutes after, I was nervous that someone was going to return with a gun. I can't help it. My mind just goes there. I looked at where I was in the room and scoped out places to hide were the person to return and start firing off shots. With this economy, people are high strung. And, this person already had proven himself to be a whack. Shannon and a beer-soaked man we were talking to weren't worried. But, I don't put craziness past anyone these days, especially when I'd heard what caused the fight. I'd already found my spot, a tiny place between the bar and jukebox, right behind where I was sitting.

Just in case.

But, like I said, that is rare there. I've seen my share of bar and nightclub fights, having worked in them as a coat check girl while a college student in New York. They are all usually started by some self-esteem challenged asshole who feels they have something to prove.

On Saturday night, I was driving home through Hollywood after dinner and a movie with my friend Jan, and inadvertently drove into a huge club fight that had continued outside. There were over a 100 people running, screaming, shouting at each other and breathing heavy. Several cop cars had just arrived, parked akimbo on the street, sidewalk and anywhere else they could find a spot. I slowly inched forward with traffic through the chaos, when a police woman flashed her light at me and told me to turn right.

"It's not safe here ma'am, turn right."

I did as I was told, leaving the warring humanity behind me. As I drove through the cool night, I rolled down the windows and turned up the heat. I edged up the knob so I could just hear the music above the hiss of the road, breathed in deeply and exhaled.

So much has happened in the past few weeks that instead of writing several small posts like I told myself I would, I've let my detailing of events on this blog back up like documents in a print cue for a printer that's run out of paper. So, I'm sitting in Starbucks, wrapped in a shawl that my sister brought me back from Kuwait City, and I'm going to try to do the best that I can.

In short, I learned I was having a harder time than I thought in dealing with the death of a friend, bought a new car, had a wonderful reunion dinner with old roommates and great friends, am getting "friended" like mad from my grade school friends on Facebook, (you diligent little things you!), my mom came to visit, I'm still enjoying the job, especially this last weekend when we put on an awesome show with The Crystal Method. Oh yes we did.

That about sum it up?

First, for those of you who asked about the replacement, excuse me... there is no replacement for my beloved Honda Civic, but the car that I now drive, I bought a 2008 Volvo C30 T5S. It's silver, sleek, fast and apparently pretty unique. I get complimented on it more than I ever imagined, followed with being told that it's the first one like it they've ever seen. Even now, when I walked into Starbucks, one of the workers whom I'm friendly with told me she loved my Volvo and mentioned seeing it in Twilight. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that.

Yes, I drive Edward Cullen's (the vampire played by Robert Pattinson) Volvo from Twilight.

Shut up.

Anyway, aside from being the vampire's car of choice, it is a unique looking car and for lack of a better word, I just fucking love it. I've caught many people eyeing it as I drive by or see them from inside Starbucks checking it out in the parking lot. Who knew? I knew that I loved it, but it's always fun when a car you drive gets a reaction like that. Especially in a town that's pretty jaded when it comes to cars. And, I'm over the moon about the incredible deal I got on it. Unheard of. It was diligence, patience, research, great timing and luck that I got this car for the price that I did. And, having just gone through the Volvo site and seeing the cost of the features and packages it has, I really scored. It had been barely driven, was a trade-in at a Toyota dealer, less than a year old from purchase and is in perfect condition. Every time that I have to drive somewhere, I look forward to driving it because it's a fun, fast sporty car with awesome handling. Here are some pics I took of it.





The week before last, my mom came to visit and we had a great time. We ate out, talked, enjoyed the Halloween decor and costumes in Toluca Lake and then in bawdy and um...ballsy West Hollywood, had a drink with Shannon at Nolan's and just hung out. My mom had before tagged Shannon as having an "outlaw" persona, so he was kind enough to wear an L.A. Penitentiary orange shirt when we went out. One of the things she said she noticed was that I seemed to be in a good "place." She said she could hear it in my voice, and see it in my demeanor and being, if that makes sense. And yes, I guess I am. It's something I've as well noticed over the last few months, during moments of reflection, that my baseline feels good. And, I have a fine-tuned barometer for what's important and what isn't. This is not to say that I don't have my down moments. I'm not immune to feeling the pull of depression on some days. However, I've noticed that the arms that try to yank me toward the abyss have lost a lot of their strength, and I'm able to pull free with far less effort.

On Saturday, our group hosted a show in Los Angeles. First, at Bedrock Studios in Echo Park we partnered with College Battle of the Bands, then later, we put on a "secret show" at Echoplex with The Crystal Method. In checking their site, I see that they have a mention about it there. It was a great event on both fronts, and during the TCM show, I had one of those proud moments of being a part of it, much like the one I had while working on "The Wire." I felt it as Shannon and I danced with the crowd that moved as if commanded to do so by the wicked beats of "Divided By Night," the song from TCM's new CD which they opened with. LA Weekly wrote an article about the event with lots of pics, too.

If any of you want to be apprised of other secret shows in other cities as well as LA, email me directly and I'll send you the links to our Twitter and Facebook pages. Our last event was in Brooklyn with Morningwood. I just love them too, and it was great. Fun to meet all these people and see them in action, and the people at Bedrock Studios were absolutely wonderful, accommodating and helpful. That place is just awesome, and exactly what a creative conglomerate should be. The owners were extremely cool and had previously created the studios that had given the grunge scene a launching pad in Seattle. However, they were humble, sweet, funny and didn't flaunt it. They were musicians themselves who just loved music and those who create it. My boss does a fantastic job of creating these events, as they are his brainchild. We even had the coveted Kogi truck there. Yum Yum.

Okay, it's getting late. Or, early depending how you look at it. I'll keep trying for more frequent and short, controlled bursts when it comes to blogging. I can dream, can't I?

Dear Honda Civic,

I'll miss you. You were there for me when I needed a lift, both physically and metaphorically. You came into my life when it had hit a teeth-jarring pothole and trusted me to be in the driver's seat. I remember the first day I had you, glad I wasn't taking the bus anymore in a city not conducive to public transportation. It had taken me two hours and two bus transfers to get to the dealership. The last four blocks of that I'd listened to a delusional woman tell me how Stephen Spielberg had raped her. I practically ran out at my stop, and there you were waiting for me, ready to offer me solitude with a 360 degree view.

At the time you picked me up, everything was falling apart around me. You made sure that I continued to go forward and kept my eyes on the road. You drove me and my two cats from Los Angeles to Baltimore, crossing mountains, vast deserts, endless flat terrain, grassy rolling hills and wooded forests that birthed us into into giant canyons. You rolled with me into quiet towns and gasped with me at the F-15 fighter that flew across the interstate at almost eye-level just hundreds feet in front of us. You idled stealthily to keep the cats cool in the desert heat because I just had to go see that huge-ass meteor crater in Arizona. Only you and I knew that I'd left one door unlocked because I had only one key. You drove 2850 miles of interstate and held your own against 18-wheelers and Smokey the Bear. Once in Baltimore, you withstood your very first winter like you were born for it, including the record-breaking snowfall that buried you completely and left you stranded for a week. You endured torrential rains, drove like a ship through flood water up to your mirrors and weathered a hurricane that pushed a tree onto you. You merely brushed yourself off and kept on going. It was an example for me on the days where I felt I just couldn't start.

You welcomed in so many souls whom I'm glad that I met and still know. You protected me from those who should stay out. You kept me warm and dry, cooled me off, offered me solace in times where I needed it.

And once I was ready, after my stepdad made sure you were up to the job, you drove me and my cats back to Los Angeles, except this time we had another passenger. My dad, whom we picked up in Asheville. You got to know him, and he you. You let him drive and me sleep, and vice versa and were always ready to go when we were. You got us there in one piece, which included a fierce windstorm in the desert. Again, you were an example of when the going gets tough, the tough keep going, tumbleweeds be damned.

You were a fantastic, wonderful little car. You spent some of the most difficult, poignant times of my life with me and carried me right through to the much better place that I am now.

It was hard for me to say goodbye today. But, I know you understand. And, that you knew I was ready.

Thanks for the memories, my 1997 Honda Civic. I'll never, ever forget you.

My trip to New York was great. I had a lot of time to myself as well as bonded with coworkers, most of whom I've never met. I'd luckily grown a brain before the trip and purchased a small suitcase with wheels. I can't imagine how I would have fared without it. Again, at a bargain from Marshall's. I was able to prop my laptop up on the suitcase and wind the strap around for a perfect double-decker fit. Instant mobility, even in New York, even on the subway and even when navigating through hoards of people and tables on the new plaza that stretches down Broadway near Times Square. I stopped at a Starbucks where a man got up from his seat to open the door for me and the barista brought my drink to me from behind the counter instead of yelling it out. Yes, this is still New York City that I'm talking about. I was treated incredibly nicely by the people that I ran into. Almost like a guest. But the great part about it was that I'd lived there and knew my way around, even though a lot of the functionality of things had changed. And, the price of the subway.

I stayed at the Brooklyn Bridge Marriott in Brooklyn, near where our event was happening. I had never spent a lot of time in Brooklyn and really liked it. Wider streets, quieter during the day and wonderful old buildings. Lofts, shiny high rises and renovations are abound, with streets closed off for blocks to accommodate the construction. I think if I ever were to move back to New York, I'd highly consider Brooklyn. There's an intimacy and sense that the place exhales once in a while, unlike Manhattan.

Our event went really well, with Morningwood rocking the house after a successful day of showing press the incredible possibilities of our software. I'd never seen it in action and was pretty blown away myself. The night before the event, we'd all eaten at Grimaldi's, which Zagat rated the best pizza in New York. It was damn good. There was a half hour wait for a table outside the door, which had a strict policy that if your whole party isn't there when you reach the front, you don't get a table until they get there. And, they don't sell by the slice. The place was boisterous and packed, without a hint of pretension despite its fame.

After eating New York's best pizza, I went back to my room and took this. I was ready for bed and anxious for what the next day held for us. It was our first of these events and therefore I had no idea what to expect. However, I slept fine that night. More pics from the trip are on my Flickr account.

The day after the event, it was time to go home, which included a series of train rides back to JFK. In the subway station in Brooklyn, an Orthodox Jewish man stood and rocked slightly as he prayed, holding a book of prayers written in Hebrew. It was too small to be a Torah, so I'm not sure what the book was. We all boarded the train and he found a space by the door where he continued to rock. The train rolled forward, swaying back and forth as it gained momentum, and suddenly we were all rocking with him, as if swept up in the fervor of his devotion.

On the plane, finally tired of the two big Russian body builders talking directly behind me in Russian and laughing way too loudly after way too many beers, I turned around and shushed them to the looks of gratitude from the other passengers. I just got tired of them. They were huge, but I didn't care. They seemed harmless and appeared to be decent guys, but were just way too loud.

I got home to hot, hot weather but was glad to be home. Los Angeles is such a sharp contrast to New York, and it was weird, as it was to get into New York. That night, I went to Starbucks and looked down at my shoes that had walked on two coasts in one day and marveled at the concept.

Um. Yeah.

I'm trying to balance life, work, facebook, tweeting, my gym sessions, sleep...more sleep, and this blog. I've been doing a terrible job on the blog part. Yeah, I know. I'll figure something out, but in the meantime you'll just have to bear with me.

Yesterday, I had a nightmare and woke up screaming. Hadn't had one of those in a while. I've got a business trip to NYC coming up and have a feeling that's what it was about. It was a horrible dream, that I'd left my apartment for a long time and forgotten to arrange to feed the cats. Upon finding Atticus lifeless, I screamed in anguish. I heard the tail end of the scream when my eyes opened. Still in shock and not quite back in reality, it took about ten seconds to realize it was just a dream, and that a very alive Atticus was beside me, looking at me in that annoyed way that cats have perfected to an exact science. I'd apparently woken him up as well. I know the dream represented me fearing that I was forgetting something and the repercussions of that. It's been a long time since I've traveled for business, and I'm nervous about it. Even though, the trip is for an event we're having at a nightclub with a band that I love performing there. The cool factor is wholly up there, but it's the first of them for our group and therefore the jitters are abound. I think everything will go awesomely, and I'm sure once I'm checked into the hotel I'll be fine and ready to roll. I also have an awesome fantastic boss with a great sense of humor.

We've had some weirdness at the apartment building. One of the tenants has a drinking problem and has several times disrupted the building with his loud drunken and stoned antics, one of which includes jumping off the second floor or roof into the pool. It's incredibly unsafe even when you're sober. There is no room for error and the pool has a pretty shallow deep end. So much that there's no diving board. Anyway, a week or so after Labor Day, we all got a stern letter from the landlord saying that we'd be evicted if we jumped off anything but the side of the pool. I'm guessing this is because of that Labor Day, when the person in question who had been warned before about it, did it again. When I left that day, he was blitzed beyond belief and was once again being the court jester for some of the tenants. I left, not wanting to be subjected to it. Way too loud, and to be honest, depressing as hell to see a man in his 40's acting that way.

A little history, ever since I've lived here, everyone in the building has been extremely accommodating to his inconsiderate, loud and disruptive antics. Though he's responsible for himself and his behavior, I think our tolerance has actually been harmful to him. It's allowed him not to get better. He doesn't remember half the things he does when he's ultra blitzed and isn't aware that people are laughing at him and not with him. Or, laughing uncomfortably because they have no idea what else to do. One time, on a weekday when I was working at home, he and his friend demolished a wooden chair inside his apartment and threw the pieces into the pool and onto the pool area. Both of them were so drunk, they almost fell over the railing as they hurled the pieces down and each fell on their backs outside his apartment. It was just another of their drunken days of stupor together. I was working, watching two grown men act like fools in front of his open door where bad rock music blasted from his apartment. Not cool. At. All. I had one of those, "What if this is as good as it gets?" moments. And, there are countless more stories just like that one. The thing is, I do like him and believe he has a good heart at the core of it. He just has a lot of work to do on himself and a long journey to undertake once he mans up enough to face himself in the mirror. However, he has to be the one that decides to embark on it.

I was watching the season premiere of America's Next Top Model, well, because it was on. And, I was glad that I caught it, because I saw my hair stylist on it! I was fun to see him standing there. They were there for the makeover session, getting new haircuts and makeup. Which reminds me of a couple months ago when I'd just gotten my hair cut and highlighted, and spent not a small amount of money on it. I had just returned from the salon and was sitting outside when the above mentioned neighbor stumbled out of his apartment stoned and drunk and poured water on my head. Luckily, I'm fast and he only got me a little, but I was pissed and yelled at him that I'd just gotten my hair done. Who the fuck DOES that?

Anyway...

I haven't posted about the sad event that I spoke of a couple posts ago. I will. But, it's hard to sit and write about it. It's responsible for part of my lag on the blog, where I just haven't felt like writing about anything.

On a happier note, I got to hear a free David Matthews concert thanks to the Ellen Show, which films right across from my apartment. Mid morning, I heard loud music and thought it was someone playing their car radio super loud. Finally tired of it, I left my apartment and walked to the street, ready to yell at them and ask them if their mommy hadn't given them enough attention when they were younger. I got outside... no car, but still the music. I realized something was going on at the studios and went back inside. A couple hours later, I heard much better music and a cheering crowd, and ventured out again. It was then that I saw the waving arms of people in stands just over the Warner Bros. barrier. And, recognized the music. Earlier had just been the sound check. I walked to get a better view where several people were standing and listening, climbed the Bank of America gate for a better view and watched them play. People were watching from open windows in several of the surrounding Warner buildings. The band was facing out toward the street, so the sound was just awesome. Totally surreal and cool. That night, I learned my next door neighbor, the one who had been my partner in crime in this little adventure, had gone to the show with her friend and been there in the crowd. She got in the second row and said it was awesome. You can watch them perform songs from that concert here and performing "Crash" here.

And no, I didn't ask the Dave Matthew's Band if their mommy didn't give them enough attention when they were younger. I stood outside under the palm trees, my legs wrapped around a metal bar for balance and listened to their music on a gorgeous day, glad I'd moved to Los Angeles because of the possibility of experiencing moments just like this.

I took these photos just down the street from my apartment of the gigantic plume of smoke from the La Canada "Station" fire. The photos don't do it justice on depicting just how massive it was. Looked like a volcano exploding. The fire tripled in size in one day and as of today isn't contained at all. And, for the last few days it's been over 100 degrees outside. Today it looks overcast, but it's the smoke, not clouds which hang over the city. Click on the photos to view larger versions.







I returned at night and shot these from the same vantage point. The glow is from the fire, and while I was standing there, actual flames were visible coming over the mountain. I did the best I could to capture it with my little camera and no tripod.

Wow, what a week. A sad week, and one that I will write about later. I can't right now. It's three in the morning on a Sunday night and I must get to bed. The cats are all around me, looking at me as if I'm nuts to be up... and I am. Even more so that I just got home. However, it was a beautiful day in so many ways.

Sorry for the lag...again.

There's just so much social media and so little time. Actually, I've been neglecting my other accounts as well, including Flickr, Twitter and Facebook, until today when I posted about this unbelievable story. Some things just bring you out of internet hibernation.

I had a great birthday. Shannon took me to Katana on Sunset, and great food, drink and laughs were had. He even surprised me with a birthday sparkler! After that, we went to Bar Marmont and of course ended up at Nolan's. After I changed out of my birthday dress, of course. I'd eaten so much I felt like I was busting out of it. I had a workout session the next day and really felt my over indulgence. It was good to get the body moving though. Speaking of that, the training is going really well. I don't feel like I'm going to die so soon into the workout, which is a great improvement. Now, I feel like I'm going to die about half way through. I must say, that doing these private workouts is one of the best decisions that I've made. It really makes all the difference in the effectiveness of my workouts as well as how hard I push myself. I like my trainer, who is from Japan and also teaches martial arts at another place. He's encouraged me to take a class, which I just might. The art that he teaches is called Seido. A word I've heard, but I know nothing of the art, myself.

It's now August 15th, Saturday, and I'm at the beginning of my furlough. This means I won't be working next week, but I don't get pay either. It's okay, as I was expecting it and have budgeted accordingly. If you live in the Asheville, NC area, that thud you just heard was my dad fainting in disbelief at that last statement. Don't worry, he'll be fine. Actually, I've been doing well with my budget, living beneath my means. Aside from doing things that I feel necessary, like the personal training as a way to stay healthy and the desperately needed replacement wardrobe, I'm keeping extra expenses minimal. I've been finding killer deals at Marshall's, as like I've said before, I'm Queen of the Bargain. In fact, the girl at Marshall's even marveled at my finds when she was ringing me up. And that's saying something.

I had a little scare with Oliver last night, as he'd been throwing up clear liquid for two days. I was worried that he could be getting dehydrated, so I called the emergency vet Friday night when I noticed him do it three times in the last half hour, and they told me to bring him in. It was about midnight, and they did a series of tests on him. I told them about his prior history, as they are the same place that I took him to for his previous emergency caused by his dimbulb former owner. I was taking no chances. While I waited, I noticed a woman with a solemn expression walk out of the area where the examination rooms are. She looked tomboyish and tough as nails but with an underlying sweetness. A few minutes later, she disappeared back into the examination room area. Soon after that, I saw the vet carrying a pretty orange and white cat in a towel toward the direction that she had gone. After Oliver was examined, I walked back to the waiting room to wait for him to be x-rayed and get his blood tested, and passed another room where the woman and her partner, who had that same tough but sweet quality were seated by the examination table, huddled over the orange and white cat that was lying between them in the towel. They were silent, their faces stricken and heartbroken as they gently stroked its head and face. About twenty minutes later, both women emerged and silently walked out, their shoulders slumped, arms listless and faces puffy from tears. I shut my eyes slowly as I ached for them, their pain so evident and raw.

The vet called me back in the room to view Oliver's x-rays, during which I asked if those two women had just had to do what all pet owners dread and fear. He confirmed that they indeed just had their cat, who was suffering from severe heart and lung problems, put to sleep. The vet told me that Oliver didn't have a blockage and were going to treat him for constipation. I walked back to the waiting room and passed the room where I'd seen the women and their cat. Inside, I saw the cat lying on the table, motionless. When I got back into the waiting room, I lost it. I cried for their loss, how helpless they must have felt, the awful decision they had to make and the thought of them going home to a house full of reminders, food bowls, toys, a litter box, and, at the sight of their beloved cat lying there lifeless. In the midst of my sorrow, a patron from one of the nearby nightclubs stopped in to ask me if I and my pet was okay. I was very touched, and explained to him that I'd just witnessed something very sad. He was a young guy with his girlfriend who had seen a woman sitting alone wiping her tears and decided to check in on me. The emergency vet is in an area flanked by several nightclubs, so there is heavy foot traffic on the weekends. And, because it's a well-lit storefront, it's a fishbowl.

Luckily for me, Oliver seemed to be okay. They gave him an enema because he was constipated and after he well...you know, they gave him to me and I took him home. They told me to bring him back if he continued to throw up. He was a champ through all of it. And again, that hospital was compassionate and thorough. I was especially touched that they let those two women take all the time they needed to say goodbye.

In bed that night, I said a prayer for them and their beloved beautiful cat.

Happy birthday to me.

I signed up for personal training at the gym and today finished my fourth session. These are extra on top of the membership, as they have a personal training subsidiary that works out of the gym with actual certified personal trainers. I decided to do it because the only thing that you have in this world is your health. Once that fails, or you don't take care of it, nothing else matters. I'm not going to become a fitness nut or overdo it. This isn't about getting ripped. That's gross anyway. I'm sorry ladies, but it is and as I've said before, makes you look ten years older and angry. This is about doing what's right for my body and getting stronger. Increasing bone and muscle strength, endurance, energy and the coveted better sleep that exercise brings. And yes, of course I'd like to tone up and keep things from going south. But, I have realistic expectations.

I decided to go the personal trainer route because I knew that if I didn't have someone to be accountable to, I wouldn't go. So, I walked in and signed up for a year's worth of training at three times a week. It's my health and I look at it as the most important investment I need to make right now. And, because I know myself too well, I chose to do it to ensure that I get exercise. I also don't want to get injured and this lessens that chance.

The first three times, I was weak beyond belief but this time I felt a difference. I didn't get as deathly, near-collapse fatigued this time. Muscles do remember, and though I'm wholly out of shape, I could feel them saying, "Oh yeah, this does seem familiar," today.

What's nice this time around is that I'm totally chill about it. I'm not making drastic changes to my diet or lifestyle. I have a feeling that will come when my body demands it. If I force it, I'll rebel. And plus, I'd like to keep some sort of normalcy in that category as far as enjoying myself. This way, it can unfold naturally.

I will say it does feel weird to be working out again. It's a good weird, but I guess it's weird because this time I have nothing to prove. I'm not trying to achieve some look or anything. Just be healthier. So, right now I don't know where that puts me. But, with this mindset it's amazing how everyone else around me becomes invisible. And, that's a good thing. It feels...secure in a way that I'm entirely focused on what I should be.

I hate it when I literally have to give the cold shoulder to someone, but that's just what I did. Literally. Turned my shoulder and pointed it at The Sallow Man's face. This just after I had nice, short conversations with others in the coffee shop. I came here because I wasn't quite ready to let go of the day yet. And, settling in, putting the chain on the door and committing myself to a night of being at home would be letting go and accepting that today was finished. Now, as I start typing this, I'm feeling okay about finally calling it a day.

That was Wednesday night, when I went to my regular coffee shop and got accosted once again by one of the annoying talkers. When I saw him come in, I got frustrated and tried to be invisible at my table. No such luck. He sat down at the table across from me, faced me and stared right at my face. I accidentally looked up mid-thought and made eye contact for a fraction of a second. Realizing my error, I quickly put my head down only to hear, "How are you?" Anger swelling in my stomach, I ignored him. Again, "How are you?" At that, I looked up, feigning surprise that he was talking to me. I answered in one word sentences and he started off on a tangent, of course taking a negative stance on it. I looked up to J, one of the employees whom I've befriended who was there but not working. However, used to The Sallow Man's prattle, he was deaf to it and therefore blind to my predicament. After about five minutes of him staring and talking, and not picking up my very obvious clues, I turned my shoulder toward his face and answered him with nods and "um hmms." Still, he didn't get it. Finally, my real out came when J moved to leave and I called him over to my table. The Sallow Man kept talking until J leaned down to talk to me, then watched the both of us as I tried to communicate that I needed him to break the fucking tractor beam. I kept J there long enough, then when he left, buried my face in my laptop and didn't look up. Five minutes later, The Sallow Man stood up and left. However, I was so annoyed by then I couldn't concentrate, and went home myself.

Lots has happened and I've been thankfully very busy at work, but not over busy, if that makes sense. There was one day that I don't think I looked up from my computer the whole day there, but it's all work that I enjoy doing. And, there's no Sallow Man to distract me. I still love my new job and have been there for a month. One day, I had a meeting at Sony Studios and on my way out saw what I thought were two grips play fighting during a break. Then, I noticed that they were moving very professionally and precisely, which piqued my interest. As I passed by them, I saw it was Robert Downey Jr. and an attractive stuntman practicing a fight scene for Iron Man 2, which was filming near the stage where we were having our event. Totally unexpected and cool. Since I didn't want to get thrown off the lot, once I was far enough down the way, I turned and snapped a photo of them. The funny thing, is before I realized who it was, I was going to snap a much closer photo of what I thought was just a fun slice of life shot at Sony. Thankfully, I didn't.

On a not so fun note, I've had EIGHT palmetto bugs in my apartment over the last ten days. One crawled over my bare foot during an epic battle with a can of Raid, Atticus and Oliver at my side, fighting to get to the cat toy with a mind of its own. I'd been watching television when a large black dot moving across the ceiling caught my eye. I looked up and saw it was a huge Palmetto cockroach, and slowly moved into the kitchen so as not to alert it. I grabbed the Raid, sprayed it and it launched itself into a death spiral toward the floor.

It was on.

The cats flew off the couch as if shot from two cannons. Barefoot, Raid in hand, I chased it while fighting them off as they fought each other to get to the still fast two-inch freak crawling toward my bed. I cringed as it crawled up my comforter across my bed, and then sensed movement from behind me. Without taking my eyes off the roach, I dropped the can of Raid, stuck my hands out to my sides, palms backward and blocked two furry faces in mid-air. Oliver and Atticus landed on each side of me, and upset at getting face-palmed, gave me a level of stink eye that only cats who were just denied a most righteous flying leap pounce on escaping prey can give. Not deterred, they raced around me because like me, they could hear it making its way toward the other side of my bed. I raced toward them block them again, just as the big bastard jumped off the bed, landed next to where I'd just stepped, ran across my bare foot and attempted to go up my pant leg.

Oh HELL to the no.

I screamed, kicked and sent the cockroach flying, body blocked the cats who sprang after it and grabbed the Raid. The fat bastard righted itself but was succumbing to the spray. It hobbled next to the mirrored sliding doors of my closet, then flipped on its back. I blasted its underside, then keeping the cats away, got a large piece of paper and threw it in the toilet.

Not half an hour later, I heard Oliver meowing and looked his way. He was planted at the door, looking up. I followed his line of sight to big fat freak number two climbing up my front door. That one went down with much less drama, until it ran behind my bookcase and I lost sight of it. I imagined having to just deal with the fact that a roach carcass was somewhere in my house until I saw it on its back all the way across the room. That one went in the trash, which immediately went into the bin outside.

I sent several hysterical all caps texts to the landlord, and they sprayed on Friday. I hadn't seen a roach since.

Until tonight.

I was watching TV and heard the cats up to something. I walked into the kitchen and saw them side by side, both standing on their hind legs on the plastic bin where I keep their food. Their paws were draped Kilroy style over the counter and they concentrated on a spot near the sink. I was lost in the moment of how adorably cute they looked, then felt my stomach sink I realized what had probably grabbed their interest. I moved a bowl, and there it was. Big, brown, fat and ugly, antennae twitching at me. The Raid was right under the sink, which meant that I had to reach down close to where the roach was on the counter. Luckily, I've become quite a pro at this and after blasting it, let it run around until it died. I had already scared the cats away when I dropped the bowl in the sink upon seeing the unwelcome guest.

I texted the landlord again. All caps. F-bomb included. He's sending his brother to patch up a hole under my kitchen faucet. It's been there since I moved in, but I think the fat fuckers are finding a way into that crawl space and coming in that way. Especially because I've sprinkled Borax by my front door. That hole was made when they re-piped the building with copper piping and never patched up.

I sent a text to the landlord and thanked him, and said that if we join forces, together we will defeat the mutants.

Lots more, just not tonight.