Chick Lit Cliche.

Saying goodbye, why is it sad?

2011-10-07T20:34:00.001-07:00

This has probably been one of the hardest weeks of my life. During a layover in Oakland on the way home from a short vacation with my dad, stepmom, and sister in Lake Tahoe last Sunday, I called my mom back home in Texas. She sounded distressed, which set off alarm bells in my head. As it turns out, she informed me that my grandmother -- my Nana -- had gone so far down hill over the weekend that she wasn't expected to even make it through the night.

One of the biggest regrets in my 32 years is that I don't recall ever saying the words "I love you" the last time I spoke to my Poppy before he passed away when I was 16. My mother insists that I did, but I don't remember doing so. Even though I know he knew I loved him, it's something that has haunted me since.

To make matters worse, I've been reflecting on a vow I made to myself when I was a senior in high school. Back then, I was working in a nursing home a couple of afternoons a week, sitting with many of the older patients. I'd watch many of them sitting in wheelchairs by themselves in the day room and think to myself, "I'm never going to do that to my grandparents." When Nana began spending so much time in the hospital this year, I started realizing that I was doing just that -- leaving my own grandmother alone.

That's how I found myself on a 6:30 a.m. flight to Texas Monday morning, bleary-eyed from not sleeping the night before and praying that my Nana could hold on for just a few more hours so that I could have the chance to say goodbye.

Nana and I have always had a special bond. I don't know for sure if it has to do with the fact that she saved my life as a baby, but general consensus is that that was when it started. When I was 18 months old, I choked on a chicken bone. Emergency personnel were called and, from what I've been told, I caused quite a bit of drama. As I was turning the shade of Violet Brown, however, my Nana got a hold of me, stuck her hand in my mouth and managed to pull the bone from my throat before rocking me in a chair until I calmed down.

When I was little, I would impatiently wait by the window for the sound of a diesel engine as Nana and Poppy's Cadillac pulled into the driveway when they'd visit from Abilene. There was nothing quite like a Nana hug when she got out of the car. Soft, warm, and just full of love. I can still smell her perfume in those hugs.

In fact, if I could think of a way to describe my Nana, it would be to say that she radiated love. She did. No one radiates love the way my Nana does. No one will ever radiate love the same way she did. My mama does a pretty darn good job and I try, but Nana is, as they say, the gold standard.

When I was sick or upset, she'd rock me or just rub my back and softly sing to me -- usually "Jesus Loves Me" and "Jesus Loves the Little Children." Whenever my family and I would visit her house, she always made sure to have some of our favorite things around. Jello Pudding Pops, Big Red, Eskimo Pies... When I was in college and made the drive from Lubbock to Abilene, she had a fresh pan of Special K Bars waiting for me. Even up through last Christmas, she made sure to have her Kermit-green Tupperware canister full of spritz cookies just for me.

Every year on my birthday, I'd get a phone call that would begin with her sweet voice singing "Happy Birthday" to me. When I was broke at Texas Tech, she sent an occasional card with some cash in it and a note saying "Use this for whatever you need" in her gorgeous script handwriting. (My Nana's penmanship is unrivaled, in my opinion.)

My Nana gave me so much. She gave me my eyes and my dimples, but more importantly, she gave me love. She taught my mother how to be my mama. She made me want to be a better person and she showed me that love -- truly showing love, kindness, and forgiveness -- is usually the best way to handle things. In fact, I can't recall ever seeing my Nana angry or hearing her raise her voice.

In the end, I made it back to San Angelo before God called her home. When I visited her in the nursing home after landing, I couldn't help but melt down. Here was my Nana, barely able to talk. Somehow, though, we made a connection. Our eyes met and it was one of the eeriest, most amazing experiences I've had. I laid my head on her shoulder in a hug and cried and, despite her ailments, she rubbed my back and comforted me just as she did when I was a little girl. I will treasure that moment for the rest of my life.

Since it turned out that God wasn't quite ready for her on Monday night, I've been to visit her a couple of times this week. One afternoon, I sat there in the room with her, holding her hand. I sang to her like she used to sing to me. I told her how much I loved her. And even though I wasn't able to get more than an occasional hand squeeze as a response, she chuckled when I reminisced about how I always had to gone on "one more car ride" with her and Poppy before they returned home from their visits with us.

Tonight, though, something changed. She was placed on hospice today, so we're actually pretty sure this is the end. I went to the nursing home after dinner and was able to spend a few minutes alone with her. My beautiful, lively grandmother was hunched in a chair, eyes closed as was the norm of late. I went to her and rubbed her shoulder, telling her I was there to say goodnight and that I loved her. She opened her eyes a few times, grunted at me, and squeezed my hand, as if to tell me she loved me, too.

I have never been so heartbroken in my life. This hurts even worse than I imagined it could. That said, I wouldn't trade a minute of the last week for anything. On Sunday night, I thought I'd lost the opportunity to tell her that I love her. Thanks to God -- and to Nana for holding on for me -- I've been able to hold her hand and tell her many, many times just how much she means to me. Maybe Nana knew that I needed "one last ride" once again.

I'm going to miss those hugs and that laughter. I'll miss that sweetness and her calm voice. I'll miss her love and her optimism and her assertions that the Lord does provide. Selfishly, I mourn the fact that she's never going to be there when I eventually get married. She won't be able to meet any of her great grandchildren. But I know she's hurting and, in her words, is ready for that new body the Bible promises her once she gets to Heaven.

Even though I've said my goodbyes, there is nothing I'd rather do at this moment than go to the nursing home and curl up in bed with her, my head on her shoulder. One last time. And it still won't be enough.

I love you, Nana. Thank you for blessing me for nearly 33 years.

Tomorrow's another day and I am not afraid. So bring on the rain.

2011-09-12T00:09:00.000-07:00

“Grown-ups like to tell you where they were when President Kennedy was shot, which they all know to the exact second, which makes me almost jealous, like I should have something important enough to know where I was when it happened, but I don’t yet.”

A couple of summers ago, in a bout of ‘90s nostalgia, I decided to devote a weekend to marathoning the entire first (and only) season of My So-Called Life. I was a huge fan of the show when it first aired in 1994-1995. Angela Chase (Claire Danes) and I were the same age -- 15 -- and it finally felt like someone was paying attention to 15-year-olds. I mean, there were “Sweet 16” parties and 17-year-olds had a magazine named after them, for goodness sakes! But, now I had Angela Chase and she was speaking my language. (A language that, in retrospect, featured the words “like” and “whatever,” as well as copious amounts of run-on sentences.)

At first, my little marathon was nothing more than a chance to lay on my bed all weekend and reminisce about my purple Jan-Sport backpack, my Dexter loafers, my hunter green Girbaud-for-the-sake-of-being-able-to-say-I-had-a-pair-of-Girbaud jeans, and the first time a boy told me that I looked nice. (For the record, thank you, Doug L. for that moment after sophomore year World History.) Then, I got to an episode called “Guns and Gossip” and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. As was customary with the show, Angela’s voiceover kicked in as the first scene faded in, giving us the quote that kicked off this blog entry. (Clip.) Little did Angela know -- little did writer Justin Tanner know -- that almost exactly seven years to the day after the episode originally aired (Sept. 8, 1994), Angela would get her moment. And I’d be willing to bet she knows where she was. Right down to the second.

I know where I was: inside 310 Gaston Hall, Texas Tech University, Lubbock, Texas, 79406. Asleep. But I will never ever forget the moments after I woke up. I can still feel the cold of the tile floor of my dorm room as I climbed out of bed and shuffled to my desk. I can still feel the just-woke-up-tightness in my lower back as I bent over to look at what e-mails might have come overnight. And I can feel the confusion when I saw the e-mail from my younger sister with the subject line “BOMBS.” The body of the e-mail is too profane to share, but to paraphrase, Katy expressed a very strong interest in joining the FBI or CIA in order to take the terrorists out.

Craving some sort of context, I flipped my TV on to find what I literally thought was the beginning of Armageddon. Smoke was billowing from a hole in the Pentagon, from both of twin World Trade Center towers, and from a smoldering hole in a rural Pennsylvania field. I saw people jumping out of the towers -- an image I will never, ever forget. I saw the towers fall. I’d like to say that the next thing I did was pray or, at the very least, brush my teeth, but I can not. Instead, I did the only thing I knew to do in that moment: I dialed my dad’s office. The first words out of my mouth were, “Daddy, what’s happening?”

The rest of the day was chaotic. Girls who should have been spreading gossip, walked up and down the halls of the third floor, spreading news of what they’d heard. Someone had heard there were planes heading to Dallas, Houston, and Austin, fears that were thankfully allayed with the reports that all planes had been grounded. I went to my Film Studies class, only to be sent home after roll was taken. I went to Wal-Mart and bought red, white, and blue streamers to decorate my door with. I watched more news coverage and saw a toothless old woman in Gaza celebrating in the streets. Up to this point, I had felt only a numb form of sorrow and confusion. Now I was angry. I went to my last class of the day which my instructor helpfully turned into a sort of an open forum to discuss the day’s events. I went with my friends Ugo and Olivia to church to pray. That night, the numbness finally gave way and, as I sat in my desk chair watching news coverage of the search for survivors, I began to sob.

Over the next couple of days, I had different urges. At one point, I wanted nothing more than to stuff clothes in a bag, pack some sandwiches in a cooler, and drive to New York to do what I could to help. At another, I wanted to walk into the Armed Services Recruitment Center on University Avenue. But for the most part, all I could do was lay on my bed with the television on, a cloud descending upon me as if I was Eeyore from the “Winnie the Pooh” stories.

----------------------

Now, ten years later, I only remember a couple of things clearly from the following days and weeks. The first was a surge of national unity, the likes of which I’d never seen. Both Houses of Congress came together to sing “God Bless America” that Tuesday night. People made musical tributes (this was before video software came pre-loaded on every new computer). When I drove home to San Angelo the following weekend, farmers had painted “GOD BLESS AMERICA” on bales of cotton in fields. More American flags than I can ever remember seeing popped up on the landscape along U.S. Highway 84 and State Highway 208. My driving music of choice was the soundtrack for Pearl Harbor, which, I guess, was appropriate. (Say what you will about the quality of the movie, but the soundtrack is quite beautiful.) The music, combined with the images of my country, my state, my home, gave me goosebumps. To this day, when I listen to that soundtrack, I no longer think of Ben Affleck or Josh Hartnett -- I think of Post, Snyder, and Colorado City, Texas.

(Given all of the political animosity of late, I really miss that unity -- even if it did come at a price.)

Most of all, though, I think of the fear -- on a personal and a national level. I remember telling my mother through tears that I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into a world where this could happen. I worried that if we went to war, my brothers might be drafted and sent overseas. Earlier that spring, I had visited and fallen in love with Los Angeles, but all of a sudden, the perceived safety and security of a smaller, lower-profile town seemed the best option. As a nation, many of us -- I would say the majority -- began to cast a suspicious eye on anyone of Middle Eastern descent. Whether you feel that suspicion was warranted or not, looking back, I actually feel pretty guilty about it.

We may have lost the unity, but fear remains. We’ve got political candidates talking about banning mosques. I don’t even want to get into the ridiculous hullabaloo that arose when people alleged that President Obama was a Muslim. The word “socialism” is thrown around in a similar manner to the word “communism” during McCarthyism. People are afraid that their own marriages are going to somehow be devalued if same sex couples are allowed to marry. People are afraid of what happens if a subway runs through their neighborhood. In fact, I honestly feel that most of the hot button issues of the moment are rooted in some sort of fear.

Life is too short, people. Jesus and Hugh Grant said it best:

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” 1 John 4:18

(Actually, that was John talking and not Jesus. But still.)

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion love actually is all around.”

(And okay, okay... That’s talking about hate and revenge, but as we all know, fear leads to anger and anger leads to hate. Thank you, Yoda.)

By the grace of God, the love of my family, and the friendship of some pretty amazing people, I moved to Los Angeles after all. I’m not saying I’m completely over some of my fears. My heart stops when I see a plane flying lower than what I am comfortable with and I sometimes have to take an anti-anxiety pill when I board a flight, but the other stuff? Gravy. Yes, the city I’ve chosen to make my home is a known terrorist target, but I’d have never met so many of the wonderful, wonderful people in my life if I’d opted to stay home. (The thought actually makes me emotional.) I love my life and my friends and the big smile on the face of Ramez when I stop for a (forbidden) Diet Coke on the weekends.

If God forbid something happens to me -- whether it’s from my city actually being attacked, or an earthquake, or something as mundane as a traffic accident -- I hope the way I live my life and the way I interact with people will lead me to be remembered with two short words: Amanda loved.

Because I do.

Calls to me throughout the day, see the feathers fly.

2011-09-07T21:13:00.000-07:00

It's never good when someone begins seriously comparing themselves to George Oscar Bluth. Never good, but alas, that's where I'm finding myself. Sitting and wondering and maybe stress-eating (maybe) about the fact that perhaps I've made a huge mistake.

Last month, after returning from a blissful trip to the south with my BFF, I decided that I was going to quit my job. At the time I made this decision, I had decided to move back to Texas to work for my stepdad, help take care of my Nana, help my mom start up her bakery and dog boutique, generally just spend more time with my family, and buy a house for a heckuva lot less money than I ever could here. (I've seriously given up on the idea of owning real estate in California.) I'd try my hand at developing projects on my own terms from my less-expensive home with my new doxle sitting on one side of me and Mr. Rubble on the other. It was going to be great.

I walked in the day I returned to the office and told my bosses that I would not be working there after September 23 of this year. It felt amazing. It felt better than amazing. I was ready to do the Dr. Benton victory air punch, followed by a rousing ten minutes of continuous Kermit arms. After that, I called my parents and asked if they could help me move back the last weekend of that month. I sent a Facebook message to siblings and extended family to let them know what was about to happen.

And then two days later, I had a near panic attack.

Had I really just committed to moving back home? Suddenly, I began having nightmares about pulling into my mom and stepdad's dirt driveway in the country, getting out of my car and stretching my legs beneath the wide, wide sky and...feeling suffocated. I currently live in an area in which I'm constantly surrounded by people, so it was ironic to think that I was going to feel deprived of oxygen with all of that open space.

(Also ironic? The song "Wide Open Spaces" has always seemed to evoke "moving to the west coast," but, um, there's not a lot of wide open space. At least around here.)

So I talked to the very same bestie and roommate I had just made accept that I was leaving and told her that I was having second thoughts. We decided to move to South Pasadena and have Weasley brought out here (it would be cruel to move Mr. Rubble from the only home he's known at such an advanced age). I'd get a job close to that area so as to eliminate my currently horrible east-west morning commute.

As luck would have it, I actually found a job at KPCC that I thought I was perfectly qualified for and that I'd be amazing at. Given that KPCC is an NPR station, it was kind of a dream job to me. I wrote what I considered to be an amazing, creative cover letter -- probably one of the best things I've ever written -- and I sent it off, convinced I was going to get a call, go in for an interview, and just nail it. Cocky? Maybe, but I had faith. And then the weeks went by and I heard nothing.

I've applied for some other positions -- mainly schools -- and have heard (you guessed it) nothing. And now, with two weeks of gainful employment left, I'm starting to worry. The spot in my left temple and behind my eye is starting to hurt during the day. I'm drinking a lot of Diet Coke again. My stomach is doing that anxious flippy thing. Here's the issue, though...

Actually, 20-second T.O.: Let me just preface what I'm about to talk about with the fact that I realize that I am so incredibly blessed and that there are people out there who would kill for a full-time job. I feel bad for complaining. Honestly. But I feel how I feel and, well, I want to talk about it.

I'm realizing now that I'm going to have to resort to applying for more assistant positions. This is soul-crushing to me. The thought of answering phones for someone again makes me want to cry. Heck, the thought actually made me cry a little while ago. I've been a secretary since I was 16 years old. My first job in high school was as a secretarial assistant at a construction and cabinetry company in my hometown. I earned cash in college by working at the hospital as a unit secretary. After college, I got a sales coordinator job that was actually an assistant to the General Manager and General Sales Manager of a television station, but with the occasional Power Point presentation thrown in. When I got to L.A., I worked at a physician's office and I temped at reception desks all across town. My current job is an assistant position and I've been in it for five years now. I want a "big girl job" making "big girl money." By "big girl money," I mean being able to pay my bills and not worry about how many weeks I'm going to have to save up before I can afford to pay for my plane ticket home for Christmas.

I know, I know. I sound heartless. I'm sorry. Perhaps I needed to see this written out to really see how stupid it sounds.

My point is, though, I have a college degree. I'm paying off the student loans for that college degree. I am 32 years old and I would like to feel like something other than a career assistant.

My ideal job is a 40-hour-a-week job making $50,000 a year. (For those of you playing back home, that's the equivalent of $27,000/year in San Angelo, so it's not exactly a mint I'm looking for.) I don't have to place peoples' phone calls for them. I answer my own phone line. I do work in which I feel like I'm using the afore-mentioned college degree that I'm paying off. Also, the word assistant is nowhere in the title. Coordinator? Fine. Manager? Even better. Associate? That's lovely, too.

I'd actually prefer for it to not be in the entertainment realm. Actually, I am pretty sure that job is nowhere to be found in the entertainment realm, so it's a moot point. No, there are so many weird agreements that many companies have you sign and some of them actually say that whatever you work on during the time of your employment belongs to them. Even if you worked on it when you were at home. I don't want to get in to some pee-ing match over a project I want to work on. So, from here on out, I'm my own entity in the world of entertainment.

In the meantime, though, I am two weeks away from being without a paycheck. I'm thankful to have my vacation time reimbursement coming, but I was hoping to build up a rainy day fund. I guess my rainy day just got here a little quicker than expected. And I can't help feeling that it's my own damn fault.

(Even if I don't regret quitting. Not one teensy weensy bit.)

Title brought to you by Cake. Because they know all. NO PHONE NO PHONE. kthxbye

First World Problem

2011-07-19T22:37:00.000-07:00

Is it really too much to ask for there to be a cute dog-t out there that says "Weasley is our king"?

That's not just a First World Problem. That's, like, a Half World Problem.

Here's the basic gist of it: I have a new dog. He doesn't live with me, but he is my boy and he is precious. He's a six month old half dachshund, half beagle, which means he's just the most delightful little ball of energy ever. I found him on PetFinder and my mom and stepdad, wonderful people that they are, couldn't resist his sad face and went to rescue him from the pound.

Anyway, I decided that his name would be Barnabas because I always wanted a beagle named Barnabas. I like alliteration. That said, I already technically have a pet named Barney. My cat, Mr. Rubble, is actually named Barney, so my stepdad was kind of mrah mrah about it and I had to come up with something else...

Given that I'm a big Harry Potter fan -- not reciting-The-Mysterious-Ticking-Noise-in-the-concessions-line big, but quite large -- and given that he's a ginger who likes to do the dog version of bickering with my mom's prissy and highly-intelligent (if not always logical) dog, I decided to name him after my favorite character. Meet Weasley, everyone...

"It's me. I'm extremely famous."

So, tonight I decided that he needed a "Weasley Is Our King" doggie t-shirt. I found one that I liked until I enlarged the picture. Um, it's "Weasley is OUR King," not "Weasley is MY King." ~~It's LeviOsa, not LevioSAR.~~ Sadly, that was the only doggie-t like that. And I can't bloody well have Weasley wearing a shirt that says he's his own king. That's a bit conceited, don't you think? I want something cute and stylish like this, only for dogs. Can someone hook a girl up?

Weasley is our king! Weasley is our king! He didn't let the quaffle in! Weasley is our king!

Please don't judge me...

2011-07-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

So, I'm considering going home. Maybe not for good, but it certainly wouldn't be a simple vacation.

"Going home" has such a negative connotation out here. I feel like saying one is "going home" is akin to admitting defeat or giving up on the dream. It's awkward saying it out loud. Heck, it's awkward just typing the words. I've thought about it before and, in the past, have laughed it off. I'd be lying, though, if I wasn't seriously considering it this time, though.

This place is an expensive place to live. Other than my 401K, I've not been able to build up any real savings and, with the economy being like it is, that bothers me. Every instinct I have is to "hunker down" -- go back to ~~Kansas~~ West Texas, move back in with my parents for a few month (they've all offered), pay off some debt and build up some savings. I've already had two job offers -- can you believe it? Maybe someday I can buy a house, because barring some kind of financial windfall, I will never own property in Los Angeles. I've had to accept that.

I miss my family. Plain and simple. I love living in California and I love the freedom that comes from being on my own, but I miss my family. My youngest nephew doesn't even know me. He wouldn't let me hold him at Christmas. I'd be lying if I said that didn't sting a little. I miss being able to hug my dad whenever I want to. I miss long chats in the living room with Nancy. I miss cooking and cleaning with my mom. I miss goofing with Craig. I miss being able to go and sit in the recliner at my Nana's and listen to her delightful accent -- a blend of Minnesotan with years of Texan. I miss going to the truck stop to get a Coke with Grandma and Grandpa. I miss being a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, and an aunt. Not that I can't be those things out here, but it's easier to be there for birthday dinners, surgeries, and other events when you can hop in the car and just go. Yes, my career and my dreams are important to me -- but my family is most important.

Let's be honest. A writer writes. I haven't done a darn thing in forever. Not because I haven't wanted to -- I just can't. I am so writer's blocked it's not even funny. And the writer's block makes me not even want to try. I think I'm stressed about a lot of things and I think that's a big cause of it. I can't help but feel like getting out of a stressful environment will help in that respect. My career is going nowhere at this point. Yesterday, I celebrated my five year anniversary with this company. I'm still in the same position that I was when I first started. I get paid decently for an assistant and the benefits are great (save for not covering orthodontia -- yes, I'm bitter), but I honestly feel like I'm stuck in the mud at this point.

All the boys I've dated (or even nearly dated) here suck. Well, they don't suck, but it's a bit frustrating when you're stood up, canceled on, or not called after the first date. Makes me think there's something wrong with me. Not in the "I'm defective" way, but in the 2 + 2 = 4 way. (Yay, math!)

So, here's the plan. If I do go back to Texas, I do not plan on giving up my entertainment industry ties or dreams. I'd like to get hired on at some companies to do script coverage. (Yay, technology!) I'll keep looking for material to be produced. I'll come to L.A. to pitch (and eat In-n-Out and go to Disneyland...).

Look, this isn't a done deal. I don't know for sure if it's going to happen. Heck, someone from my dream job could call in the next day and change it all. It's what I'm thinking about, though. A lot. And it excites me, but it also makes me really sad. Why can't decisions be easy?

On a happier note, have you seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Part 2), yet? If not, GO. Lovely movie, but take your tissues. The cute wittle babies have all grown up.

Another day, another...

2011-05-24T13:30:00.000-07:00

As (Previously Not) Seen On TV

2011-05-20T11:10:00.000-07:00

For someone who works in television, I watch embarrassingly little of it. One would think that I would use this opportunity to become one with "the boob tube," all in the name of research. At the very least, I should be going nuts, gleefully thumbing my nose at all of the adults who told me I watched too much of it growing up and those who made fun of me for my carefully-organized and labeled VHS collections of Melrose Place, Lois & Clark, The X-Files and Alias episodes. (I may or may not have been a late adapter to the DVD craze.)

But I don't.

There's a great, very catchy song by The Limousines called "Internet Killed the Video Star." I can relate. I admit that I spend too much of my "research" (and, frankly, my writing) time checking Tumblr and Twitter and Facebook and the like. I'm not proud of it, but there it is.

So this summer, one of my goals is to get caught up on television. Obviously, I can never fully catch up on every show, but I'd like to be able to watch a few new-to-me shows next season and know what's going on. I have a few plans in place for what I'm going to watch, but I'm open to suggestions from the peanut gallery.

Here are the things I absolutely plan to watch...

Bones - Many, many of my friends in real life and on Twitter are devoted to this show. (Some would say hopelessly so.) My mom and step-dad have recently joined the club and have been trying to get me to do the same. And now that that thing happened in the finale and Twitter is all a-twitter, I have to say that I'm intrigued.

Sportsnight - No, I know this one's no longer on the air, but if I had a nickel for every time someone has asked me whether I've watched this show, I could buy a pizza and a bottle of Two-Buck-Chuck. When I first started watching The Good Wife late last year, I posed the question, "Josh Charles, where have you been all my life?" Apparently, he's been here. So yeah. Watching this one.

Parks and Recreation - Maleficent and I often discuss how annoyed we are with this show. Not that there's anything in particular wrong with the show, but, as big fans of The Office, we were psyched about Parks and Rec. We watched the first few episodes of the first season and were disappointed that it felt like they'd taken Michael Scott, changed him into a woman, and plopped him into the Parks and Recreation Department of a fictional Indiana town. It wasn't long before Casa Descanso lost interest. Though we never quite got around to deleting the timer, we didn't shed a tear when the DVR made a late night snack out of the unwatched episodes. After hearing from my friends about how much better and how heartwarming the show became during seasons two and three, I'm excited to check it out. I do love me some heartwarming workplace comedy. "Office Olympics," anyone? My heart is very full right now...

The Wire - Yes, I know. I should watch The Wire. I'll get to it this summer.

(I do love that many of these shows are available on Netflix Instant, which, thanks to technology, I can watch on my iPhone at the gym. Hooray!)

I also need to get caught up on the last half of this most recent season for The Big Bang Theory, Modern Family, and Community. I may actually try to work Pretty Little Liars in here, since many of my friends seem to be fans -- and because Norman and Crystal (two people I very much like) are involved with it. Is there anything I'm missing? Any shows you think I should start watching?

If I could recommend anything for you to start watching over the summer, it would be The Good Wife, Chuck, and Friday Night Lights. Friday Night Lights is my The Wire in that you should fear my judgment of you if you've not watched it. (Hint: The first four seasons are on Netflix Instant!)

DETOUR?

2011-05-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

What on earth happened to the Writers Guild Trainee program? Before I started my job at Lifetime, it was alive and well. Now, it's...dead? Or, I'm sorry, inactive? Do these people not know that I'm in a "pursuing my dreams" push right now?

Sorry to make this "all about me." (Well, it is my blog and all. But still.)

No, I'm applying to a few established shows that I want to work on. Luckily, I now have contacts who can help at least move my resume to the top of the piles, but that doesn't necessarily guarantee anything, either. I also know that I might have better luck applying to new shows, but I've never been a good gambler. I can't quit my job here in order to take a job (and, likely, a small paycut) on a show that may or may not see more than six episodes. That would suck.

But anyway, I'm kind of feeling like a commute through Beverly Hills. I'm trucking along and then I hit traffic between La Cienega and Doheny because an electrical or a cable truck is parked in front of the retirement home. I try to cut up Robertson (once I finally get there) to avoid further delays and find myself in even more traffic, as they've got it shut down to one lane. And then I'm stuck behind a pokey white Ford Escort and I'm screaming, "MOVE!!!" and then my low fuel light comes on and my Prius dings and suddenly, I'm screaming at Pollyanna Prius: The Glad Car, "SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!" And really... I guess the moral of the story is to just avoid Beverly Hills, but in order to get to my job, I have no choice.

(Somewhere in there is a metaphor. I swear.)

But yeah. Last night, as I was dozing off, I thought that I'd look into the WGA Training Program as another avenue/detour. My cover letter to the show runners in question was going to be awesome. And I just hit a dead end. I just hit Robertson-shut-down-to-one-lane. Time to hit Gregory Way, I guess.

I HAVE NO WORDS.

2011-05-18T10:33:00.000-07:00

Well, that's an all out lie, but still.

As I was saying, the subject line is a lie. I most certainly do have words, but after reading this fantastic review this morning, I'm mincing mine. Side note? I love any article that uses the word "fussy." It's one of my favorites.

It's not like anyone who doesn't live under a rock didn't know this was coming, given that CBS spoiled it in the episode's promo, but hoo boy was it even better than I anticipated. It was gorgeously shot, the elevator doors didn't look hokey like they did in the promo, and I actually didn't hate the song. I don't know if it was the particular section of the Mika song that they used in the promo, but it became a running thing for me to scream "I HATE THAT SONG" whenever it came on. After hearing practically the whole song last night, I can't get it out of my head today. Chalk it up to "comprehensiveness."

I think that Alan Sepinwall (one of my favorite critics!) is correct in his awesomely-titled review when he says this whole affair (bah dum CHING!) will make things "messier" for Alicia next year. Bring it on. I love messiness and irrationality on television. I don't know about you, but I find myself being completely irrational or stupid on a somewhat regular basis. A logical 32-year-old woman with a college degree wouldn't pay a bill out of the wrong bank account, right? Right?! Irrationality, stupidity, bad decision-ness... It doesn't change the nature of a character -- it just makes said character more realistic.

One of my favorite television scenes of all time is from the third season premiere of Alias. A rational Sydney Bristow would have said, "Hey, I've been presumed dead for two years. Of course my boyfriend would have moved on and married someone." But a realistic Sydney Bristow is saying, "Hey. I've just lost two years of my life and my dad is in jail and my best friend was killed and cloned and my man hooked up with some new chippy, like, six months after I disappeared and you know what? I AM PISSED. And while I really just want to go all Rambaldi on your ass, I'm just going to tear you a new one with my words of fi-yah."

So yes. Back to Alicia. A rational Alicia would have said, "You know what? I've had a good day and, yes, I have feelings for this admittedly attractive guy that I work with and had whatever-we-had-at-Georgetown with, but the smart thing to do would be to call a cab and start divorce proceedings and then pursue something later." But no. Realistic Alicia was all, "Oooo. Tequila is awesome and spicy and this is a hot, hot man and my shipper brother is home with the kids and will totes cover for me and I am so, so tired of dealing with my soon-to-be-ex-mother-in-law, my treasonous-best-friend-don't-you-dare-try-to-defend-her, and my manwhore of a soon-to-be-ex-husband and Will just dropped nearly $8,000 and oh just shut up, Alicia, and cue. the. flippin'. Aerosmith." And for that, she deserves a slow clap with Explosions in the Sky music in the background. Clear minds, full shot glasses, can't lose.

But this is indeed going to get messy when it gets out and you know it will. Whether it's from lobby or elevator cameras or Mr. Smiley-Faced-~~Oatmeal~~-Piano-Man, it will get out. Some thoughts: Grace, who seems to have issue with her mother even drinking wine, is going to have something to say about adultery. Jackie is going to keep wearing her headbands and go all, well, Jackie on her and probably call her a hussy. Peter's gonna be a stoic d-bag about it and do something devious. Cary's going to channel his inner Randy Travis and be all, "I TOLD YOU SO, BITCHES." And David Lee. Her divorce lawyer. From Lockhart Gardner. I know he says his office is a monastery, but what happens when he finds out she's sleeping with their boss? Mmmhmm. Only Owen's going to be jumping up and down like Kelly Kapoor in Victoria's Secret. And, well, Will's probably doing the Dr.-Benton-victory-air-punch thing.

It's going to be so messy. Everyone's going to be so deliciously judgy until Alicia punches them all in the throat. And it's going to be awesome.

Is it fall yet?

P.S. I'd like to thank my fabulous roommates for getting me to watch this show. It's one of my new favorites. Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

P.P.S. Never believe me when I say I'm going to mince my words.

Add this to the list of things I will NEVER do...

2011-04-04T18:56:00.000-07:00

I will never date -- much less marry -- a man who has attached "genitals" to his automobile.

That is all. Carry on.

The world can be yours if you let your heart believe in ever after...

2011-03-30T23:29:00.000-07:00

I still believe in happily ever after.

Maybe that’s naïve of me, but I do. For the past two weeks, it feels like I’ve been bombarded with messages about how prevalent divorce is in this country. Even at church, where the (awesome) sermon was about having a Biblical marriage, the stats were there. One in three American marriages ends in divorce. One documentary/news program that was on in the locker room at my gym last night went on about how couples should prepare for divorce before marriage -- both emotionally and financially -- to save themselves the extra heartache when it all inevitably goes down the commode. Yesterday, I came across an article from Redbook about the Ashley Madison web site. Let’s just say that I only thought the television commercials grossed me out (“Life is short. Have an affair.”). The article absolutely disgusted me, as did this book, which talks about how monogamy is unrealistic. (I’m gonna be a fussy old Southern lady and say that the girl in that book is a hussy.)

It’s been two weeks of marital doom and gloom and I’ve had enough. ENOUGH. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive about it -- I’m not even dating anyone and am, therefore, nowhere near marriage. Regardless, I’d like to buy out a bunch of billboards across the country and, big as Dallas, post a Bill Pullman line from Sleepless in Seattle: “Marriage is hard enough without bringing such low expectations into it.” (Then again, I’d probably get sued by Tri-Star, but whatever.)

ANYWAY.

I know that marriage isn’t a fairy tale. One doesn’t get to put on her best Pnina Tornai*, exchange rings, and do a not-as-surprising-as-you’d-like-thanks-to-the-YouTubes rendition of “Thriller” with her wedding party and then just ride off into the sunset. There’s conflict. And there are ups and there are downs. The preacher man (or lady) even gives a bit of a spoiler in the “for better or for worse” department. I believe that even the worst of the “for worses” can be managed. Is said management fun and games? No. Is there going to be pain and hurt involved? Of course. But just like the best friendships, things come out stronger on the other side -- at least that’s been my experience.

Before anyone can accuse me of living my life in a bubble or point out my naïvete, I have to have my little booya moment: My parents divorced when I was seven years old and it, to use a word that I wasn’t even allowed to use in junior high, sucked. Big time. In fact, I’m still feeling the effects at age 31.

But despite all of this, yes, I still believe in happily ever after. I still believe that people can get married and stay that way. Both my parents remarried and have remained that way for over twenty years, which is longer than both their first marriages. For what it’s worth, negative effects or no, I don’t even want to imagine my life without my stepdad and stepmom in it. Past experience has proven that things can always happen, but I truly believe that my family is fully and completely intact. Forever.

I want the same thing for my own marriage someday. I will have the same thing for my own marriage someday. Why? Because I’m a believer going in. And you’re not going to convince me otherwise, so don’t even try. The same thing goes with Santa Claus.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and look at fabric for the Giselle Halloween costume I’ve been planning for four years.

What?

This is what single girls do with their time.

I think. Er, believe.

* I, Amanda Mason, do solemnly swear that I will never wear a Pnina Tornai. Not in a million, zillion years.

Friends

2011-03-16T22:42:00.000-07:00

In the process of pulling my 12 of 12 photos off of my camera, I came across a batch that I took at a Frank Lloyd Wright house up in the hills of Los Feliz. I love this one.

It's been one week...

2011-03-15T10:50:00.000-07:00

Well, technically, but still.

As I mentioned in my last post, I gave soda up for Lent this year. The idea was to give up something you depended on and I could think of nothing I depended on more than my morning Diet Coke. Given that I had pretty much given up on Diet Coke -- which I had started calling Diet Stroke after my mother staged a one-woman intervention at El Cholo -- I decided that giving it up for Lent would technically be cheating. So, I gave up all soda.

My last soda was on Monday, March 7. Technically. I have to admit that I ordered an Ocean Water at Sonic on Sunday, not remembering that it had Sprite in it. I did, however, stop drinking it as soon as I realized.

But yes. It's been one week and it's actually been a lot easier than I thought it would be. I feel a lot better and I haven't even craved soda. AT ALL. In fact, the thought of soda makes me go bleeeeeeechhhh.

YAY.

12 of 12: March 2011

2011-03-14T16:45:00.000-07:00

Wow. It's been a long time since I've blogged, much less since I did 12 of 12. I've actually done it the past couple of months, but never have gotten around to uploading the pictures. Maybe I'll do that in the next little bit. Or maybe not. We'll see.

I very nearly didn't do 12 of 12 this month. Given what had just happened a day before, it just felt a little wrong to be taking pictures of my trip to Starbucks. But I realized that the whole point of 12 of 12 is to recognize the little moments (and blessings) of the day. I'm thankful that I was able to wake up on Saturday morning under a down comforter or to stop at Starbucks on my way through Hollywood. And I do so recognizing that there are tens of thousands of people who aren't as lucky.

9:25 a.m. - Happy Saturday.

I expected to wake up to bright sunshine, but it was actually a bit on the cloudy side. On a side note, I've recently discovered the wonders of the sleep mask (seen on my bed). Love, love, love. When I was a child, my Poppy would always give my siblings and me his toiletry kits from his frequent airline travels. It usually included one of the masks, but as a little kid, being completely in the dark was scary stuff! I usually preferred the big travel bags to use for my Barbies.

10:36 a.m. - Starbucks Fix.

For the first time in my life, I gave up something for Lent. It wasn't like I abstained in years past, but it wasn't something that was generally done in the Baptist church. I've been going to a different denomination of church, though, and it was encouraged. I even went to my first Ash Wednesday service, which I found to be an incredibly moving experience. This year, I gave up soda for Lent, so I've rekindled my love for tea. Maleficent showed me the wonders of the tea latte and I'm now kind of addicted, which is why I found myself at Starbucks at 10:36 a.m. on a Saturday morning...

10:49 a.m. - Doughboys!

I can't tell you how bummed I was when Doughboys closed up shop a few years ago. They had one of the best red velvet cakes -- if not the best -- in town, not to mention one of my favorite guilty pleasures: the PBC&B sandwich. Lest you think I'm a glutton, I was able to turn that into three meals. Three delightfully, yummy, wonderful meals... I decided to pick up the sandwich (my first in years!) on the way to my office.

12:56 p.m. - And here's the pitch...

I participated in an online pitch fest on Saturday on behalf of my company. I enjoy these things, but they're especially fun when they're online. Technology amazes me. I decided to drive to Century City and do this one from my office. It's got to be more impressive than seeing the wall in my living room, right?

2:50 - Dirty Jobs: Not just a show on the Discovery Channel.

Since I was already in the office, I decided to go ahead and tackle the department's mini-fridge, which is housed in my boss' office. It was pretty gross and smelly (as everyone always said when retrieving a soda), but it was good to have it done.

4:43 p.m. - Nap Time.

When I think of all the time as a child that I whined about having to take a nap, I marvel at my childish stupidity. Naps are one of the coolest things of all time. OF ALL TIME.

7:15 p.m. - The Birthday Girl.

Saturday was Jan and Jess' birthdays, so Maleficent and I popped over to Bar Celona in Pasadena for some tapas and drinks to celebrate. Jan is seriously one of my favorite people and I'm so thankful that I know her.

8:11 p.m. - Remains of the (Birth)day.

The tapas were eaten, the white sangria drank and now it was time to order dessert. If you ever plan on visiting Bar Celona, I do recommend the churros and chocolate. Cinammon-sugary goodness!

9:21 p.m. - I love JUICE!

Name the reference... After the birthday dinner, we made a late-ish night trip to Fresh & Easy in Eagle Rock. Gotta love the The Fresh and the Easy, my favorite east-side soap opera.

10:13 p.m. - I made this!

That has nothing to do with this picture. Sorry. Just a habit borne of many years of being an avid viewer of The X-Files... Anyway... I had to read a book for work, so I snuggled up into the glider rocking chair my Nana got me for my high school graduation. It's still one of my favorite items of furniture. In other news, I really need to put some stuff on my bedroom walls. Yikes!

11:06 p.m. - Ready for Magic.

Laying out my lanyard and my Mouse Ears for my trip to Disneyland with Maleficent and Liz B on Sunday. I am nearly 32 years old, but the idea of our yearly Two-fer/Sonic trip just turns me into an eight-year-old. Hence the first-day-of-school treatment.

11:36 p.m. - March Madness, Saturday Night Live style.

The last thing I did before putting the sleep mask on again and going to sleep was watch the opening to Saturday Night Live, as Twitter was abuzz with how great the monologue was. I guess I just don't get Zach Galifianakis -- the monologue was funny, yes, but I wasn't exactly falling out of bed laughing at it. I will, however, never look at Annie the same way again. Loved this March Madness skit, though. Fred Armisen as Gaddafi makes me laugh.

Kiss my Glass (Slippers).

2010-10-21T17:29:00.001-07:00

You know, I hope the first time Prince Charming mouthed off to Cinderella, she reminded him that she wore glass slippers. Until midnight. For him. Not only wore them, but stood around and even danced in them. She may have been cutting a rug, but one wrong step and she'd be cutting something else. And just look at the picture -- does it look like those things have any cushion whatsoever? I mean, they're pretty and all and she got Prince Charming out of the deal and she got to stick it to those horrible wenches she called her stepsisters, but good great googa mooga. Talk about a royal pain...

12 of 12: August 2010

2010-08-15T13:08:00.001-07:00

Late, but not quite as late as last month... It's 12 of 12 time!

12:56 a.m. - I love my life.

Started August 12 off at Warner Brothers Studios. This was taken as I headed back to my car after a long, but wonderful, night. Thanks, Norm!

9:08 a.m. - Off to work.
My shadow as I walk across the median on my street to my car.

10:40 a.m. - Breakfast.

A breakfast sandwich from The Stand. This is the first time on Thursday that I'd feel disgusting. I had ordered a simple bagel and cream cheese, but they were out of cream cheese. I ended up opting for the same thing Kyle had ordered. Tasty, but gross.

1:55 p.m. - One good decision.

I decided to be "good" and eat one of my Lean Cuisines for lunch. First, I had to find it...

3:14 p.m. - Unsolicited laughs.

Every now and then, we'll get unsolicited e-mails/query letters via mail. This one had a teaser on the outside of the envelope that made me giggle. Marlys is my Nana's name -- and the envelope came from her native Minnesota. I was tickled for a few hours. (I'm not allowed to open them, so I had to pass it on to business affairs.)

7:47 p.m. - Objects in the side-view mirror may be grosser than they appear.

I'd had a hankerin' for McNuggets for a couple of days, so I decided to treat myself. Yummy, but I almost immediately started to feel disgusting. I think I've hit my McDonald's quota for the next 243 days or so.

8:15 p.m. - Terror Babies?

This is the fancy pants McDonald's near Century City, which explains the TV. They had Anderson Cooper on and the whole interview was pretty darn disturbing, even with no sound. I mean, subject matter, yeah, but the interview subject was acting crazy and combative.

8:35 p.m. - La Cienega just failed.

Traffic was still crappy at 8:30 at night. It could have been worse, but as you can see on my dashboard, I was only going 33 miles per hour. In a 65-70 mile per hour zone. Like Ricky Bobby, I like to go fast!

9:04 p.m. - My shadow returns home.

We saw my shadow as I left for work. This is the slightly more exhausted -- and disgusting-feeling from dinner -- shadow as I returned home.

10:30 p.m. - When it rains, it pours.

Maybe it's just something that happens to me, but I seem to run out of things at the same time. It's both frustrating and expensive. The latest be added to the list of things to be replaced is my make-up remover. Darn it anyway.

11:05 p.m. - Polka dots!

Packing up my work bag for the next day. This is the case for my laptop. I love it -- probably because it reminds me of my Lite Brite from back in the day.

11:06 p.m. - Though his mind is not for rent, don't put him down as arrogant.

Rush's "Tom Sawyer" came up on shuffle as I was about to turn out the light. It was an interesting little bookend.

Have a great week, everyone!

Twelve of Twelve. A month late.

2010-08-01T14:19:00.000-07:00

Hey! I've been busy, okay? I went to pull the pictures off of the camera on the 13th and the battery died halfway through the process and then I just...forgot. I'm defending myself to Mel. I'm crazypants.

Better late than never, right? I'm going to pretend you just said yes...

(As always, if you don't know what this 12 of 12 business is all about, check out Chad Darnell's site here. Do it anyway.)

7:06 a.m. - Late start.

Breakfast in the car. Late leaving, which means an abbreviated workout. Better than nothing, I suppose...

7:42 a.m. - The gym.

This picture makes me so, so sad. Because I love this gym. LOVE. But I'm canceling the membership because it's no longer doable with my budget. But it's amazing. If you're a gazillionare, you should totally be working out here. This particular day, I got there in time for a quick workout and a shower. Wooo.

11:03 a.m. - Apple crumble.

The night before, I had wanted to make an apple pie. The problem was that it got to be so late in the evening that the entire apple pie-making process was going to be too much. So, I did the quick fix. APPLE CRUMBLE. It was good. I don't need this stuff around the house (because I will eat it), so I took the rest to work. I got in trouble with Maleficent for doing so, though.

12:53 p.m. - Southern girl lunch.

Because I was feeling all Southern and Texan and stuff the weekend prior, I made oven barbequed chicken, baked beans, and potato salad. Along with the afore-mentioned apple crumble. Of course, there was an intense amount of leftovers, so I took some to work. Bad idea. Two words: FOOD COMA.

1:42 p.m. - Undercovers Blues.

Except how can you be blue when Boris Kodjoe is in your office complex? I mean, honestly. Yes, Undercovers was filming in Century Park and it was totally cool.

3:35 p.m. - Starbucks!

Time for iced tea. The barista is so nice -- she's one of the new kids on the block.

4:34 p.m. - Meetings!

Water for the meeting I had to go and set up. Much better than that nasty Arrowhead stuff. Team Sparkletts! (Even though, yes, I realize this is Crystal Geyser.)

7:36 p.m. - Glee!

(That was meant to be heard in the chirpy singy voice from the "previouslies" in which they're all, "Here's what you missed on...GLEE!")

Liz T. is a member of the Paley Center for Media and was able to procure tickets for us to an "Inside the Writers' Room" event at the Writers Guild Theatre in Beverly Hills. Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Ian Brennan told us all what it was like to write an episode of Glee. Muy interesting.

9:25 p.m. - The Triv.

I didn't think I was actually going to be able to make it to trivia due to the previous event, however it let out in plenty of time. So, I joined up with my crew for some pub trivia magic.

11:32 p.m. - L.A. in a nutshell.

The 10E/110N transition ramp has been closed for construction intermittently over the past few months, so one has to detour. This means driving through another construction area where they seem to be working on light rail tracks. I have to say that I do approve of this -- even if it makes driving late at night exceptionally wonky.

11:50 p.m. - Coziness. Again.

I need to be more creative. I've just realized that I take a picture of my bedroom pretty much every month. It's kind of like Zankou in that way. But yeah. This is where I sleep and it's awesome. I love that it's clean in this picture. I had dusted and vacuumed in preparation for my vacation because I love coming home to a clean place.

11:59 p.m. - Community!

So, because there was a panel at Comic Con -- and because "Modern Warfare" was one of the most brilliant things I saw on television (er, Hulu) last season -- I decided that I needed to watch Community in its entirety. I wasn't a fan of the pilot, so I never really picked the show up. But I'm so glad I decided to go back and rewatch. So, so funny.

I have so much more to say, but I'll save that for another shmoopy post. Because is it ever schmoopy. Be warned.

Happiness is not Texas in my rear view mirror.

2010-07-10T13:29:00.001-07:00

That's not to say that I'm not happy, because I am. Seriously. But the homesickness just about kills me sometimes -- and I've noticed something... It's worst in the summer and I'm not exactly sure why.

For some reason, though, I keep going back to summers in west Texas. The sound of the old ice cream maker making some kind of ice cream. I loved banana -- my Poppy and I used to "clean" the dash with a spoon. The feel of the hot shingles on top of the boat house at Lake Kemp beneath my feet as I ran to jump into the lake. The taste of Sunkist soda and Little Debbie Nutty Bars as I sat underneath the trees on the uneven pavement outside the lake house. The sound of locust and an air conditioning unit running full blast. Lizards and horny toads and swatting house flies with a, well, fly swatter. Over-chlorination in the swimming pools at church camp. The hot and humid weather preceding a west Texas thunderstorm -- and the cool feeling afterwards. Watching the rainwater rush in down by the river. The smell of the exhaust from my grandpa's boat. Having to go on one last car ride with my Nana and Poppy -- even if it was just a block around the school -- before they headed back to Abilene. Generic sandwich cookies and watered-down red Kool-Aid at Vacation Bible School. Scuffed knees and tennis shoes from climbing the tree in the back yard -- and listening to Milli Vanilli with Justin. Snow cones. Browsing the J.C. Penney catalog and planning my school wardrobe for the next year, because I was determined to finally be one of the cool kids. (I don't think that ever really happened, but still.) Picnicing down by the Concho River the night of the San Angelo Symphony's July 4th Pops Concert and watching fireworks. Guero's in Austin with Lisa as a live band played outside. The miserable heat as I trudged back to my air conditioned dorm from the BA building at Tech my final summer semester. Mom's fried chicken, homemade potato salad, and baked beans (with the special secret ingredient) at a roadside picnic area on the way to drop Katy at Girl Scout Camp around Fort Davis. The smell of the grass after my dad and brothers had mowed (and edged and weed-eated/ate?) both the front and back yards. The smell of the grill as my dad cooked burgers while I sat at the old formica bar and buttered buns to toast. Cross Canadian Ragweed playing at the San Angelo River Stage while I held an empty lawn chair over my head to keep the rain off. Homemade pina coladas and fajitas while listening to Texas country music. Driving through Austin with Katy and Mama trying to find a Krispy Kreme donut place. Blue Bell. Mrs. Baird's. Town and Country (suck it, Stripes). 87. 20. 208. 277. 84.

Perhaps I'm just jealous that my brothers and sisters are all with my dad and stepmom at Lake LBJ this weekend. Last year was a dream -- I darn near didn't come back. I remember lying underneath a huge mimosa tree as Natalie Merchant's "Motherland" played on my iPod. Texas is my homeland and I love it. I miss it. No matter how many awesome things I get to do in California -- no matter how much I love my "family" here -- Texas will always be home. I don't know if I'll ever make it back to stay, but my heart will always spend part of the year in the 325 and 432.

Check out some Texas summer pictures here. And here are a couple more songs for your listening pleasure:

"They Call it the Hill Country" - Randy Rogers Band
"Texas In My Rearview Mirror" - Mac Davis
"42 Miles" - Cross Canadian Ragweed
"Amarillo By Morning" - George Strait
"Back Where I Come From" - Kenny Chesney
"Chattahoochee" - Alan Jackson (yes, I know the Chattahoochee is not in Texas)
"The Road Goes On Forever (And the Party Never Ends)" - Robert Earl Keen
"Easy Silence" - The Dixie Chicks
"Texas (When I Die)" - Tanya Tucker
"Ohio (Come Back to Texas)" - Bowling For Soup (you had to see this one coming)

In the words of Jason Street and Tim Riggins, Texas Forever.

P.S. If you don't know what show I'm referring to in that last sentence, rectify that situation immediately.

P.S. Again. I think I'm going to go and bake an apple pie, make some homemade ice cream, and seriously consider making oven barbequed chicken for dinner tonight.

Quite possibly the most boring 12 of 12 EVER.

2010-05-13T12:04:00.000-07:00

Sorry, y'all. I'm serious. There's a lot of time on the computer(s), some rehashed shots, and a bit of bunching. Still, it was a pretty good day. Hope you enjoy the pictures!

(Confused about what 12 of 12 is? Check out Chad's blog, yo.)

6:49 a.m. - Coziness.

Well, I was supposed to get up by 6:15 to get ready to head to the gym, but that didn't happen. My music on my alarm clock wasn't loud enough, I guess. So, at 6:49 a.m., I woke up, snapped a picture and went back to sleep for 45 minutes. It was kind of awesome. I do love how cozy my bedroom is.

8:50 a.m. - Last minute Twitter check.

(Yes, I know I've used a similar shot at least once. Sorry.) There was some news on my feed that made me smile as I left. Also, my computer is pretty. Two years later and I'm still in love.

9:13 a.m. - Detour?!

Thankfully, it was a pretty one. It even has a couple of bonus four-way stops! They're (finally) repaving Robinson St., so I had to cut down the hill via Micheltorrena. This took me by one of my favorite spots in my neighborhood -- an empty lot with one heckuva view. (Look! It's downtown!) This place is especially inspirational at night when lights are twinkling and you're listening to Loney Dear's "I Was Only Going Out." (Side note: I really want them to play Loney Dear music every time James Loney is announced at the Dodger games. Though I suppose that's not exactly jock-worthy. Whatevs.)

10:45 a.m. - Organizing.

Organization is important. Even on the computer. There is such a thing as e-clutter.

12 noon - It's the most wonderful time of the year!

Emmy screener time!

1:06 p.m. - This is my life.

Long story long, my boss had a notes meeting at 1 p.m. The place where I ordered food from usually insists that customers allow 45 minutes for delivery. So, I ordered food at 12:15 p.m. Guess what time the food showed up? 12:30. So, once the person my boss was meeting with arrived, I found myself in the kitchen, taking hamburger patties off of buns, placing them on disposable plates, and reheating food in the microwave. If you're keeping score at home, this is my boss' veggie burger patty making the rounds (bah-dum-CHING!) in the microwave.

4:39 p.m. - Taking care of business.

Had to send this out to someone yesterday. That is all. These aren't the droids you're looking for. They're free to go about their business. Move along.

5:11 p.m. - Nearly-free tea.

~~My mom bought me~~ Santa brought me one of those delightful ceramic Starbucks cups for Christmas. (How cute is the striped straw?) I love it because I get a discount when I go downstairs for my afternoon shaken-black-iced-tea-no-sweetener. Somehow, it only cost me 50 cents yesterday! 'Manda likey.

7:02 p.m. - Collaborate and listen!

On my way to my car in the parking garage at work. I've been waiting all week to take this picture.

7:35 p.m. - Old Hollywood.

Sorry for the bunching, but things were pretty on my commute last night and I wanted to take a picture. This is Santa Monica Blvd. at Cole in Hollywood.

7:49 p.m. - Zankouuuuu!

I think this is (at least) the third time Zankou has made its way into my 12-of-12 pictures. I'm sensing a pattern. Anyway, because I'd had a good day, Allison and I decided to have some celebratory take-out for dinner.

10:01 p.m. - My writing cocoon.

Man, I really need to straighten up my room. Hello there, jammies.

One last thing: This song rocks my life. I've heard it two days in a row on Morning Becomes Eclectic. It. Is. Awesome. (Are you shocked to know that Sleigh Bells are on M.I.A.'s label?)

Have a great weekend, all!

Thirty-Onderful Wishes

2010-05-01T23:22:00.001-07:00

I turned 31 on Friday. I spent six hours of that day in the car on the way to Monterey to see my family. My completely badass sister Katy graduated from the Defense Language Institute this past Thursday, so all four of my parents flew in to watch her ceremony and celebrate. Naturally, I wanted to spend time with them and show them their new grandcar Pollyanna, so I put together a nice collection of road trip music and headed north on the 101.

Solo roadtrips are great for introspection. I tried to come up with 31 wishes for this particular birthday, but came up short. However, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm bath (my bathroom at home only has a shower stall), I was able to finish off the list. So, please allow me to channel my inner two-year-old and talk about what I want. Thirty-one times.

I want to go to Europe and experience what everyone is talking about -- Germany, France, Italy. I want to be able to let go of stupid, inconsequential -- sometimes embarrassing -- things that I’ve done in the past, especially when the “injured” party in each situation is probably over it. I want to go on a really good first date. I want a dachshund named Triumph who will sit on the couch and snuggle with me while I watch TV. I want to know why I always double knot my left sneaker’s shoelaces, but rarely my right. Furthermore, I want to know why when I have a cold, it’s always the right side of my nose that clogs up, but not the left. I want to be less shy and embarrassed by giving compliments. (I often don’t give compliments due to some strange fear of rejection.) Now that we’re on the subject, I want to get over fear of rejection. And now that we’re really on the subject, I want to get over fear. Period. I want my grandparents to all be around forever, even though my logical side knows they won’t. I want it that way. I want my Mr. Rubble. I want to be a better employee at work, a better friend to Dr. S, and a more prolific and focused writer. I want this party music down the street to stop by the time I go to sleep. (It won’t.) I want to be Jennifer Garner when I grow up. I want to lose fifteen pounds by Comic-Con. I want to be able to live like I actually graduated from college. I want to feel as close to God as my entire family seems to feel. I want to be friends with my friends forever. I want an old Spanish-style house with hardwood floors, a piano, and climbing roses. I want to never hear the term “sexting” again. I want my sisters to marry guys who make them feel good about themselves. I want to take my oldest nephew to Disneyland before it becomes “uncool.” I want to go back in time to make myself watch my mom and stepdad get married instead of hiding in the bathroom at the Justice of the Peace. I want to go back in time to make myself go to my senior prom, even without a date. I want all of my favorite television shows to be back next season. I want to make everyone happy, which is kind of a problem. I want to be as good of a mom to my kids as my mom and stepmom are to me. I want to be the most (genuinely) positive and enthusiastic person I know. I want to meet the current Tom Hanks, since I’ve apparently already met the future one. And finally, I want to go to there.

In conclusion, I had such a wonderful birthday. I spent time last Friday night with my friends at The Black Boar in Eagle Rock. On Thursday, my department at work threw a joint party for me and two other people who celebrated our birthdays last week. This included Tito's Tacos. Because I was sick, I didn't get to blow out the birthday candles, but Kyle lit me a special birthday match to blow out. Allison and Meredith took me out to Il Capriccio in Los Feliz for dinner. Thanks to a phone call on Friday, I might be able to mark one of those wants off my list next week. And finally, the birthday greetings I received via Facebook and Twitter made me feel a little like Pollyanna at the end of the movie -- and I didn't even have to fall out of an attic window. To borrow an expression from one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies Hope Floats, my cup runneth over.

Have a great Sunday, everyone!

Rock my world? More like MELLOW my world...

2010-04-22T10:28:00.001-07:00

Who likes good music? Check these songs out and then go and buy them. You won't regret it.

"I Am Not a Robot" - Marina and the Diamonds

"Fader" - The Temper Trap

"Love Lost" - The Temper Trap

"The Ghost Inside" - Broken Bells

"Kandi" - One Eskimo

"Home" - Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

"Santa Monica Dream" - Angus & Julia Stone

"The Wrestle" - Frightened Rabbit

"Me and Jane Doe" - Charlotte Gainsbourg

If you've never checked out the PS22 Chorus, you should absolutely get thyself to their web site and listen. Last night I was looking up a link to their performance of "Zebra" by Beach House and discovered that they'd actually done "I Am Not a Robot," as well. The adorableness can not be overstated. They actually do the robot for crying out loud...

Aieee.

2010-04-20T15:49:00.001-07:00

Ever have those times where you are so busy you can't even think straight and you have so much to do and you feel like you owe so many people things and are being a bad friend/daughter/sibling/person because you haven't paid up on what you've owed whether it be a phone call/e-mail or whatever and in the end you kind of just want to curl up in the fetal position under your desk and listen to Kermit the Frog sing about the Ainbow-ray Onnection-cay oh wait that was Andy Bernard?

Yeah. That's me. Can't remember punctuation, either.

12,000 Words for April 2010

2010-04-13T14:59:00.000-07:00

It's 12 of 12 time! If you don't know what it is, check out creator Chad Darnell's blog for the skinny. This month's collection features a lot of bunching and bad jokes/puns. Just be prepared.

7:44 a.m. - Blergh.

Time to get going. Oy.

8:51 a.m. - Mom's words of encouragement.

My mom sent me a very sweet, very silly text message that made me laugh. She's as big of a dork as I am. Can't wait to see her (and all of my parents) in Monterey in a couple of weeks.

9:04 a.m. - The Haul.

Looking at the sheer amount of crap that had to go down to my car. My computer/work bag. My bag of snacks and lunches for the week. Two boxes of cupcakes. My purse. And, not shown, my gym bag.

12:41 p.m. - Prepping.

Reading a treatment before my staff meeting starts. Excuse the hoodie -- it's cold in my office! There's no excuse for the hair...

3:01 p.m. - Checking for messages.

After getting out of our epic staff meeting, I had to check to see if I had any messages from a certain (818) number. I had nothing. At all.

7:24 p.m. - Poquito Mas-ome.

Thanks to a suggestion from my mom, a quick, healthy dinner before heading west. Plus, I had leftovers for lunch today. Traditional vegetarian burrito with pinto beans and no salsa (cut in half, please) for the win!

7:54 p.m. - Rite Aid.

Had to make a last minute stop on my way to O'Brien's. No, I did not purchase a blond wig or fashion Contact paper into a mini-skirt. I can not promise that I didn't use a Southern accent, though. And if you don't know what I'm referencing, you should be ashamed of yourself. That's right. I said it.

8:45 p.m. - You have a book! In a bar!

Getting some not-really-light-but-still-very-enjoyable reading in before my trivia team members arrive. I'm not okay with how puffy my fingers look.

9:51 p.m. - Cheers!

Or, as we say at pub trivia, SOCIAL! I've been thinking about setting up this shot all week and it turned out as awesome as I'd hoped.

11:39 p.m. - Oh, L.A.

Traffic backed up at the 10E/110N interchange. At nearly midnight. Per the SigAlert (that I did not check in my car...honest!), there was a silver Kia involved in an accident.

11:59 p.m. - Burning off a picture.

I realized that it was 11:59 and I still lacked two of my twelve pictures. Sorry for the bunching... And the ridiculous face!

12:00 midnight - Night shirt.

This is the only swag I kept from WonderCon. I have no desire to see Inception, but a shirt that says "Dream Machine" just seems perfect for pajamas in the same way that I had the posters for Sleepless in Seattle and While You Were Sleeping hanging over my bed in college.

Have a great week, all!

Everytime he does that thing he does.

2010-04-09T18:20:00.001-07:00

When I was a little girl, my favorite actor – aside from one Kermit the Frog – was Tom Hanks. I could watched Big and The Money Pit and Joe vs. The Volcano for hours on end. If Sleepless in Seattle is on – and let’s face it, it’s the Law and Order of movies in that it seems to be on some channel at any point during the day – I’ll watch it. Even at the gym, despite its lack of upbeat keep-your-butt-moving music.

As gifted as he is with comedy, he’s equally so with drama. The man made me cry over a volleyball in Castaway, for heaven’s sake. I could go on and on, but a quick look at his IMDB page reveals so many of my favorite movies (and I'm a few minutes from getting off work and don't have that kind of time). I’m pretty sure that he’s going to have me bawling again in Toy Story 3.

As if he didn’t already have my heart, he appeared on a Jeopardy! skit on Saturday Night Live. IN A PLASTIC DRY CLEANING BAG.

I’ve discussed this with a few people, but I’m thinking we need to find the next Tom Hanks. Not that I think this one’s going anywhere anytime soon. But who’s the next quadruple threat? In addition to making us laugh and cry, he has to be able to write, direct, and produce. And do it well while being exceptionally endearing at the same time.

Any thoughts?

Love and Loss: The Week that Was

2010-02-21T17:29:00.001-08:00

Last night, my BFF and I went on our yearly trip to Disneyland. Midway through our visit, we sat down on Main Street USA to enjoy our requisite churros. As I sat there looking at Sleeping Beauty’s castle -- a symbol of dreams and what could be (and yes I still buy into that at age 30) -- I couldn’t help but reflect on the previous week.

Did anything drastically life-altering happen? No. But it’s been a while since a week has been so consistently wonderful for me. Aside from one somewhat devastating thing that happened Saturday morning (I’ll get to that in the loss portion), it has just been the type of week that Princess Giselle would refer to as “delightful.” I thought I’d share some of it with you.

It all really kicked off on Monday when Maleficent and I decided to play Tourist-In-Our-Own-Town and hit up the Warner Brothers Studio Tour. I adore the Studio Tour. If it was possible to get a second job as a tour guide, I’d do it, but my hours don’t mesh up. If you’ve never taken the tour and are in Los Angeles, do yourself a favor and give it a shot. It’s well worth the $45. I find the Universal tour to be exceptionally cheesy (dancing cars? really???) and...not as real. I mean, some aspects of it are certainly real, but as someone who worked on sets and studio lots for two years, I just found it too touristy. Warner takes you on real, working sets. (After they show you an awesome video that uses Angels & Airwaves’ “The Adventure” to great effect. So goosebumpily inspirational!) They even try to cater your tour to any favorite Warner show you might have. I’ve now taken it four times in the past year with various visitors.

ANYWAY. Mal and I hit up Poquito Mas and took the Warner Brothers tour, where we got our Friends geekiness on. (We may have even out-geeked our tour guide.) This is quite possibly one of my favorite pictures of the two of us.

One of my favorite quotes from the show is “Work on your mu-sic?” Every time the “music” category comes up at our weekly trivia game, I have to say the quote. It’s just the way it is. So, when we got to go into the Gellar house, I absolutely had to recreate the scene of Ross playing his Casio on the steps. That’s what you see above. "The One With the Prom Video" is still one of my favorite episodes of television ever. Just watching that linked clip made me realize how many things I say in my everyday life are references to that episode. "The button! The button!"

It’s standard on every tour to visit the Central Perk set. Sometimes they’ll let you sit on the couch and sometimes they won’t. We were allowed, so Ms. Mal and I have a pic of ourselves on the Friends couch that will be framed. Also fun? This.

After the tour was over, Mal and I went and parked in the garage and walked on to the lot. Thanks to a very lovely person, we had lot passes, which we cashed in just because we could. We walked around for fifteen minutes and then left. I didn’t want the WB army of golf carts to come and take us down.

The great week continued when Tess invited me to visit the set of Chuck (one of my favorite shows) with her. Now, I love the show, but I think I was just as excited to be walking around on a soundstage again. Some people will laugh at me, but I love the smell of a soundstage and the special way the set floors sound when you walk on them. (In soft-soled shoes, of course.) I just love it. I spent around two hours hanging out with everyone over at Chuck and I think I’m more in love with all of them than ever. I like nice people, you guys, and there are a lot of them there.

Anyway, the coolest thing about it was that it wasn’t a big deal. I was...just there. No one acted like I was in the way. I just blended in and sat on the famous fountain (and one of the foldy chairs) and watched the monitors as they shot. It was like food for the soul. And as someone who enjoys the show, it was really interesting to see what they were shooting. All I’ll say to those involved in the Twitpocalypse (if you don’t know of what I speak, consider yourself lucky), if you’ve quit watching this show, it’s your loss. When I saw what they were shooting, I couldn’t keep the sappy smile off of my face. I was so lucky to be there and I can’t wait to brag to everyone once the episode airs that I saw what I saw LIVE. Neener neener. Don’t even try to ask me about it because, like Brittany Murphy in Don’t Say a Word, I’ll never tell. I’d like to go back sometime and I don’t think that telling would help my cause. On another note, I would also like to point out that I like hugs.

Alright. Enough dorking out, Amanda.

One small downside to the previous week was car drama. My poor, sweet Marcie had been having some difficulties. After spending much of Tuesday morning dealing with pricing repairs and weighing my options, I decided to go ahead and look for a new car. I had planned on getting a new one this year anyway. With Toyota’s image woes of late, I knew they’d be likely to make a decent deal, so I decided to test drive a Prius. About ten seconds after climbing behind the wheel, “weighing my options” became “I need this car.” I made some calls around town to get quotes, figured out what payment I could afford, and Kelly Blue-Booked my old car. On Thursday night, I went in armed with this knowledge and left with Pollyanna the Prius: The Glad Car. I’ve had the car three days and I love it so, so much. The other day, as I was driving through Silver Lake and listening to The Avett Brothers, I realized I was one pair of skinny jeans away from becoming a cliche. Ha!

And then yesterday, of course, was Disneyland. It really is the Happiest Place on Earth. I just turn into a little kid whenever I walk through the entrance gate. We always have to go to Sonic in Anaheim before our visit. Mmmm, tater tots... We figure that we’ll walk a lot of the calories off -- and Sonic is something I associate with home. It’s a win-win situation.

Let’s talk about the loss part, though. I thought my biggest loss this week was going to be my old car, but I was wrong. Yesterday morning, I woke up to the news that one of my family’s cats -- Wilda -- had to be put to sleep. It was a really tough thing to hear, as she was one of the sweetest cats ever. Her given name was Pebbles, but like most of the cats in my family, that name evolved. Eventually she became Wilda-P (because she had a wild streak) and by the end, it was just Wilda. She loved to give people kisses with her rough tongue. Like her mother Smokey, she was a very loud purrer. She loved to snuggle. One of her funnier quirks probably came from the fact that she was part Siamese. She had a very feisty streak. Every now and then, her eyes would turn red like the bad robots on Short Circuit and she’d just start wreaking havoc. Stuff would get knocked off the table (she loved to sleep up there and never let herself be broken of the habit) or she’d work over her scratching post so much that it would be leaning. The funniest thing, though, is that if you were sitting on the couch or the recliner, she sometimes would get up behind you and mess with your hair. In the case of my bald grandfather, she’d lick the top of his head. Wilda was just so, so loving and my heart just hurts from missing her. Apparently, they learned on Saturday morning that she had end-stage cancer and was entering kidney failure. She was so weak that she wasn’t able to stand at her water bowl. I only wish that she'd had two more weeks of feistiness in her so that I’d have been able to love on her one last time. Rest in peace, my sweet Wilda. I hope you’re messing with Jesus’ hair and making him laugh.

Aaaaand, now that I’m a mess, I’m going to save the Forever Marcie lovefest for another post.

Twelve Pictures of My Day... And Six Songs of the Moment

2010-02-13T20:08:00.000-08:00

It was the 12th on Friday. Everything you need to know is here.

9:10 a.m. - Last minute tunes.

Grabbing some tunes before I head off to Century City for the day. This particular morning, I'm downloading Thao With the Get Down Stay Down.

9:19 a.m. - How long has this been there?

There are so many pretty murals in Silver Lake/Echo Park/Los Feliz. How have I never seen this one?

9:25 a.m. - I've made a huge mistake.

Being the Friday before a holiday weekend, I figured traffic might be light and that the freeway was a good idea. I was wrong.

10:35 a.m. - Chocolate croissant.

Grabbed a croissant at Trimana Salad Got Soup. Weirdest name ever. But this croissant beats the heck out of the stale ones over at Starbucks.

12:58 p.m. - Inside the Death Star.

In true chick-lit cliche fashion, I dragged Kyle shopping with me. We cut through the CAA lobby on the way over. It's pretty, no?

1:47 p.m. - Fashion show! Fashion show! Fashion show at lunch!

Whenever I try to take a picture of myself, I always end up with one really bizarre one. You're lookin' at it. Anyway, this is the outfit I bought. I'm pretty pleased with my selection. Thanks, Gap!

2:15 p.m. - Reason #183748927 I love Kyle Taylor.

So, the original plan was for Kyle and I to hit the Subway at the mall before we went back to the office. Unfortunately, shopping took a little longer than we anticipated. I asked Kyle if he'd mind just picking mine up when he went over -- I had to get back to set up a 2 p.m. meeting for my boss. Well, I got back from putting people in the conference room and this was on my desk (6" turkey breast on white with avocado only). Two minutes later, I chastised Kyle for not getting himself anything. I did not intend for him to go and just get my lunch. Sigh. Love that kid.

3:25 - Everything He Ever Wanted.

Putting together a care package for an actor. Also, for some reason, my fug ID picture is in here, too. And a Sharpie?

3:46 p.m. - Starbucks Part Deux.

This time with drinks for people other than Kyle and me. I almost love the Starbucks Valentine's cups more than their Christmas cups. Adorable. I love love. For those keeping score at home, this is a Venti Shaken Black Iced Tea Lemonade (No Sweetener), a Venti Shaken Black Iced Tea (No Sweetener), and a Tall Chai Tea Latte.

7:53 p.m. - Checking out my haul.

Leaving Gelson's with my groceries and other items obtained at the Westfield Century City during Shopping Part Deux.

8:16 p.m. - I've made a huge mistake. (Again.)

Normally, the freeway wouldn't be an issue this time of night. Especially on a Friday. It took me nearly an hour to get home. I had to fight the urge to weep.

10:33 p.m. - Back To The Computer.

This time it's nothing as fun as cashing in eMusic credits. I'm balancing my check register. Gross.

Here are six songs that are currently rocking -- or mellowing, as the case may be with these -- my world. Enjoy!

"Fill Our Wounds" - In-Flight Safety - This is one of the few songs I have on my iPhone and, as such, it's one of the few songs that plays when my iHome wakes me up in the morning. Just beautiful. Between this and "Model Homes," I feel like I need to obtain the rest of the album. Logging in to eMusic in 5, 4, 3...

"Me and Jane Doe" - Charlotte Gainsbourg - I can't stop singing, "Me and Jane Doe and Rousseau. We've got nowhere to go..." over and over again. Just a beautiful little song. Heck, the whole album ("IRM") is good, which isn't surprising given that it was produced by Beck.

"When We Swam" - Thao With the Get Down Stay Down - If you're not smiling during this song, there's something wrong with you. Seriously. Get help. (Plus, the name of the band tickles me.)

"Zebra" - Beach House - Le sigh. Oh, you wanted more commentary than that?

"The Ballad of Love and Hate" - The Avett Brothers - I discovered Avett through KCRW when Jason Bentley played the gorgeous "I and Love and You." This one is my favorite, though. I'm shocked that it's never been on the television before.

"Gun" - Emiliana Torrini - Here's a less-mellow song for you. This one's just badass.

Have a great week, everyone! I know I will. Kicking it off with a trip to Disneyland tomorrow.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words...

2010-01-27T18:26:00.001-08:00

This is Kyle's motto for the both of us. I made this "ransom note greeting" (his words) to go on top of his birthday present box. I just feel like posting it. Big things for everyone this year, okay?

21 Suggestions For Success

2010-01-23T23:02:00.000-08:00

Every morning when I get up and around -- albeit later than it should be -- one of the first things I see as I go to brush my teeth is the poster my brother bought me for Christmas a few years back. (Wow, that was a really long sentence.) At the time, Michael felt very strongly about what this poster said and felt that he wanted me to have a copy. He even had it framed for me. The poster is "21 Suggestions for Success" by H. Jackson Brown, Jr. Now, you've probably seen this everywhere, but just in case, I thought I'd post it on my blog. Enjoy the wise words!

"21 Suggestions for Success"
By H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Marry the right person. This one decision will determine 90% of your happiness or misery.
Work at something you enjoy and that's worthy of your time and talent.
Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.
Become the most positive and enthusiastic person you know.
Be forgiving of yourself and others.
Be generous.
Have a grateful heart.
Persistence, persistence, persistence.
Discipline yourself to save money on even the most modest salary.
Treat everyone you meet like you want to be treated.
Commit yourself to constant improvement.
Commit yourself to quality.
Understand that happiness is not based on possessions, power or prestige, but on relationships with people you love and respect.
Be loyal.
Be honest.
Be a self-starter.
Be decisive even if it means you'll sometimes be wrong.
Stop blaming others. Take responsibility for every area of your life.
Be bold and courageous. When you look back on your life, you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the ones you did.
Take good care of those you love.
Don't do anything that wouldn't make your Mom proud.

I think the one I most need to work on is #5. I don't have much of a problem forgiving others -- I am very unforgiving of myself. Heck, I'm still giving myself grief for things I said and did when I was a kid dealing with her parents' divorce. (And, really, in the grand scheme of things, they weren't that bad at all.) I need to learn to just let go. I think I'd be a happier person if I could just do that.

Well, I need to work on #1, too, but I figure that I don't have much control over that one. Oh, I'd have control over whether or not I consent to marrying someone, but that's not even an issue at the moment. I'm very much going with "Let go and let God" on that one... Right now, at least. I'm sure there'll come a point over the next few weeks where I'm watching the 2005 Pride and Prejudice every night and lamenting the lack of Mr. Darcy in my life. His hands are cold, you guys.

In the spirit of letting go and letting God, here's a pretty song that speaks to me this week. Or maybe it's just pretty and has me in a sappy mood. Whatever. It's "No Envy, No Fear" by Joshua Radin. Enjoy and, if you're so inclined, get sappified!

Have a great Sunday, all!

My Nephew is Cute (Part Three)

2010-01-13T10:53:00.000-08:00

Different nephew this time. Still cute. This is the noob! I'm going to shut it and let his adorableness do the talking.

Can't wait to meet you, Austin! (Photo by Steph, by the way...)

Also a very happy birthday to my sister Stephanie! Can't believe my baby sis is 26.

My Nephew is Cute (Part Two)

2010-01-11T18:17:00.001-08:00

So, there's been a running thing between my brother and my nephew for several years now. After we decided to call his Blackout Transformer "Blackie" (a shooey girl's name, apparently), Brayden decided to get "Uncle Mike" (my brother) a "Hello Kitty" card for his birthday this year. In "retaliation," my brother got Brayden something special for Christmas...

He then decided to re-gift to my Uncle Rick. The glee with which this kid does it is absolutely adorable. He can't even sit still.

I miss that kid.

My Nephew is Cute (Part One)

2010-01-10T08:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, so both of my nephews are cute. (That's one of the first times I've been able to say "both my nephews" -- Austin was born on Friday.) I unfortunately have not yet gotten to meet Austin, which means that I haven't been able to take my own pictures or video, so that's why the star of this blog post is one Brayden.

There's two parts to this one, mainly because I didn't want to inundate you with YouTube embeds. Brayden loves spy stuff. Last year, my brother and sister-in-law (the new parents!) bought him a spy kit with all kinds of fun stuff. This year, I gave him some more stuff that I was able to acquire through work (love. it.)...and a football. Because he wanted a football and, by golly, if a West Texas boy wants to start playing football, bring it on. Plus, he wants to go to Texas Tech -- and that's awesome in Aunt Amanda's book.

ANYWAY. Spy Stuff. Because you guys don't care about the football. I took video in 2008 and 2009 of him playing with his new spy toys. I finally got around to editing something together. Not the best editing job ever, but he just makes me smile.

(The comma on that Bond font just irritates me to no end!)

It's on like Donkey Kong

2010-01-08T16:35:00.000-08:00

Cowboys. Eagles. Same song, third verse, same as the second. (Not same as the first, because if it was, they'd be playing in Philly.)

So, we have a House Divided here in the Lifetime Offices. My boss is from Philly. I'm from Texas. We took advantage of the occasion and wore our jerseys. Bring on Saturday! (And please win, Cowboys.)

Have a great weekend, all!

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-24T20:32:00.000-08:00

I am sore ashamed.

For the first year ever, I didn't send out Christmas cards. I mean, I bought the cards. I have four boxes that almost coordinate with my wrapping paper du jour (thank you, Target). I even lugged them home in my suitcase with the intention of getting them sent out during all the free time I imagined having once my puddlejumper touched down in San Angelo. All that free time has been taken up with gatos and dachshunds and shopping (gross) and wrapping presents and nice, long chats with my daddy in the kitchen.

Instead, the boxes of cards will be boxed up with my presents and shipped back to Los Angeles. Better luck next year. Instead, I'm doing a blog Christmas card:

(Click me! I get big!)

It's been a good year. Thanks for being a part of it.
Here's to 2010!

12 of 12 - December 2009

2009-12-13T13:46:00.001-08:00

Yesterday was the 12th. You know the drill. If you don't, check Chad Darnell's blog for details.

Yesterday was also the Casa Descanso holiday party, so the vast majority of these pictures are party or party preparation related. Enjoy!

10:34 a.m. - LJ in Bed.

Checking in on all of my buddies from the comfort and warmth of my covers.

12:11 p.m. - Time to get up and make the cookies.
Rolling out homemade sugar cookies on my Texas towel. If you look closely, you might be able to see my hometown underneath all the flour snow.

1:11 p.m. - Migas!

Since we weren't going to be eating anything substantial until the party, I decided to make some brunch. I went with migas, but this time actually followed a recipe. I'm so glad I did. I mean, my haphazard version is pretty darn good, but holy moly... Thanks to The Pioneer Woman, I had some of the best breakfast I've ever made. (I modified mine to include bacon because, I mean, come on...)

3:14 p.m. - Cookies are not a sometimes food.

It's on to chocolate chip cookies with little red and green M&Ms.

4:59 p.m. - Red Matter.

The red food coloring blends into the cake batter. This is about the time panic started to set in. Then I realized that it wasn't as late as I thought it was and calmed down for 45 minutes. This getting-dark-early thing is still messing with my brain.

8:31 p.m. - Queso Fundido.

Allison finishes up the delicious cheese dish.

9:46 p.m. - Feuerzangenbowle!!

Or auf Englisch... A sugar-spice wine drink in which a giant cone of sugar (called a Zuckerhut) is lit on fire over said drink. That releases more sugar into the punch. It's delicious and very festive. Also, kind of badass... I love that you can see the lights of Silver Lake through the window. I freaking love this neighborhood.

9:51 p.m. - The Spread.

We made a lot of food yesterday. A lot. Spinach dip. My brother's guacamole recipe. Tortilla roll-ups. Frosted sugar cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. Mini red velvet cupcakes. Queso fundido (not pictured). And that's not including the brie, camembert, pretzels, and chips and salsa.

10:16 p.m. - Party People!

I love this picture. My friend Jan looks so happy. This is actually one of two different pictures I took of people at the party. I like the other one, too, so I posted it here. Look! It's Chad!

11:44 p.m. - Christmas Trivia.

Yeah, so this is where I started to realize that I was three pictures short of a dozen with only fifteen minutes left in the day.

11:45 p.m. - Who burned the cheese?

Queso Fundido carnage. This is not going to be fundido to clean up.

11:50 p.m. - "Christmas in Connecticut"

The very poorly-Photoshopped poster for this movie was featured prominently in our party invitation. It played in the background while we played games. (This was after Holiday Switch had wrapped up.)

November 2009 12 of 12

2009-11-12T23:11:00.001-08:00

Wow. Can you believe it's November already? Sheesh. In two short weeks, my family will be in town and we'll be making turkey and good gravy! (Literally.)

For now, though, it's the 12th. Not only is it time for 12 of 12, it's its creator's birthday. Happy Birthday, Chad!!

7:42 a.m. - Checking my e-mail.

Starting my day off with an e-mail check. I need to start weaning myself off.

8:24 a.m. - Poor tootsies.

Yesterday, in all of my infinite wisdom, I wore practically new heels to the Warner Brothers lot. Now, given the fun time I had on the lot yesterday, I'll take a few blisters any day, but hoo boy did my feet hurt. On the other hand, it was a great reminder of a great day. And hey, I felt like I looked sharp. Beauty is pain, right? (Please disregard the gross looking toes -- I'm in dire need of a pedicure.)

9:45 a.m. - Breakfast.

Grabbing a breakfast burrito from The Stand with no taters. Hooray, protein!

11:21 a.m. - Starbucks.

It's time for my iced tea. I've taken to drinking my shaken black tea during the day in lieu of having a snack and Diet Coke. It's been very helpful with my attempts to get back in some sort of shape. And, hey! It's yummy and caffeinated.

12:05 p.m. - Negotiating.

I finally heard from someone regarding the rights on a book. Doing my due diligence and calling a lawyer in Richmond, Virginia. It's very exciting.

1:42 p.m. - The Fox lot.

It was a gorgeous day in Los Angeles. The sky was just such a gorgeous shade of blue that it almost looked like something you could only see in a movie. Appropriate that I got the pretty blue sky behind a movie and television studio. I'm also amused that I managed to get Nakatomi Tower in the background.

1:50 p.m. - A mooooovie.

I didn't intend for so much bunching, but I couldn't resist this picture. This was just past the Fox lot on Pico.

2:15 p.m. - Mrs. Winston's

Best salad bar ever, even if all you see in this picture is lettuce.

4:10 p.m. - My afternoon joy.

Burt's Bees chapstick, Starbucks' shaken black iced tea, and the Lollia hand lotion I bought in Austin.

5:31 p.m. - Ode to West Texas.

I was just mapping something out and then my own personal version of Fodor's happened.

7:22 p.m. - Goodbye, Joy.

Well, not goodbye goodbye, but this was Joy's last Cellar hurrah as a Lifetime employee. Layoffs suck. Doug looks possessed in this picture. (Sorry, Doug.)

9:08 p.m. - Homeward bound.

This was taken driving through downtown Los Angeles. The sign indicates that the on-ramp to the Hollywood Freeway (101) is coming up in about a mile...

And to end it all off, I must implore you all to watch Everything She Ever Wanted on Lifetime on Saturday (Night One) and Sunday (Night Two) nights. Gina Gershon, Ryan McPartlin, and Victor Garber. As my dad likes to say, "It don't get no better than that!"

October 12 of 12

2009-10-13T14:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the 12th. You know what that means. And if you don't, then you clearly don't know Chad Darnell or read his awesome blog.

My company is cool enough to give us Columbus Day off, so I spent the day hanging out with my mom who was visiting from Texas. The main event -- which you can probably tell from the pictures below -- was the Warner Brother's VIP Studio Tour. If you've never done it, I highly recommend it. Well worth the $45 admission -- and much cooler and more informative than the Universal Backlot Tour. I took pictures where I could. Some areas were off limits for cameras, though. This was my second time on the tour, so I was able to watch my mom experience it all -- but even I got some surprises. Our tour guide took us on the sets of two of my favorite Warner shows. Alas, my Inner Geek became my Outer Geek at that point. So. Cool. If you take the tour, ask for Bob. He was fantastic.

Here we go, though...

9:50 a.m. - Morning Has Broken.

We stayed up late -- really late -- watching TV the night/morning before, so we let ourselves sleep in. I know I'm biased, but I think my room is really cozy.

10:39 a.m. - Mixing It Up.

Mom starts mixing up the chocolate cake. Mama, I tried not to get you in this picture. Promise.

11:53 a.m. - Chocolate Cake!

The cake layers cool while we get ready to go to Burbank. Is it just me, or do they look kind of like giant hamburger patties?

1:11 p.m. - A Little More...

My mom got her first real taste of Poquito Mas. (We split a Traditional Vegetarian burrito with pinto beans, no salsa, cut in half.) I'm always amused by these signs. I mean, I understand their purpose -- but it doesn't mean I'm not going to sneak a picture anyway.

1:40 p.m. - Thufferin' Thuccotash!

Mom poses with Daffy Duck in front of the Warner Brothers tour center. I was so excited that my mom got to do this tour. It was so much fun seeing it all through her eyes.

2:57 p.m. - Ever Dance With the Devil in the Pale Moonlight?

The amazing Bob (our Warner Brothers tour guide) tells us about the Batmobile and Tumbler on display at the studio.

3:09 p.m. - I'll Be There For Youuuu.

Aside from the fact that I love the fact that I have a picture with my mom "inside" Central Perk, I hate this picture. That stupid (but necessary) hoodie did me NO favors. Ugh.

5:36 p.m. - Barnes & Noble.

My mom has a tradition of buying a book on Hollywood history every time she's here. She wasn't about to break that tradition this trip, so we stopped at the Studio City Barnes & Noble on the way back to my part of town.

7:21 p.m. - Chinatown!

This was actually our second visit to Yang Chow this weekend. On Saturday night, we picked up slippery shrimp and sauteed green beans. It was enough to make my mom want to return.

7:46 p.m. - Chinese Food. Om nom nom.

In addition to Saturday's leftovers, we picked up some Szechuan beef, combination fried rice, and spring rolls. So, so good.

9:14 p.m. - The Finished Product.

Mom shows off the finished cake. There's actually another version of this picture that I like better, but Mama would kill me if I posted it. I had her say "cheese!" and it turned out hilarious. That one will have to go in my private scrapbook.

11:29 p.m. - Updating the iPod.

Mom was leaving the next morning at 6:50, so I wanted to make sure she had some primo tunes.

Yeah, I'm a sap. You got a problem with that?

2009-10-07T23:15:00.000-07:00

Very excited to watch Jim and Pam get married on The Office tomorrow night. I'm going to eat homemade tacos and guacamole. And then I'm going to cry.

12 of 12 - September 2009

2009-09-12T23:59:00.000-07:00

12:16 a.m. - Being nosy.

One of my favorite TV shows was filming in my office's courtyard Friday evening. After dinner, my roomies and I went back up to my office to watch what all was going on. We were there a while -- ah, the hurry-up-and-wait nature of television.

8:15 a.m. - Caaaaable guy!

The Dish Network guy was supposed to be here between 8 a.m. and noon and he showed up at 8 on the dot. Because the standard def receiver is in Allison's room, she moved her base of operations into my room.

10:23 a.m. - It's so beautiful!

HD Dish hooked up. Basking in the TV's high definition brilliance.

12:41 p.m. - Chinese dumplings. Om nom nom.

Pork dumplings. Pork and crab dumplings. Shanghai rice cakes. Broccoli. I love Din Tai Fung so much.

1:19 p.m. - Baked goods. Om nom nom.

Perusing the Chinese bakery in the same strip mall as Din Tai Fung. It smelled amazing and I ended up buying half a loaf of bread to go with lunch tomorrow.

2:04 p.m. - Nap time!

The only solution for food coma and early-to-riseness on a Saturday is an afternoon nap. Kids don't know what they're missing out on when they throw a fit about having to take a nap.

5:03 p.m. - Raider! Power!

Listening to the Texas Tech football game over the Internet -- and reading the comment thread at the Raider Power forums.

8:27 p.m. - Out for a walk.

I've lived in the neighborhood for four years and I'm still completely charmed.

9:15 p.m. - Visiting my friend Ralph.

Or, as he's known in other parts of the country: Kroger.

9:44 p.m. - Late dinner.

Turkey and brie sandwiches for the roomies and I to eat while watching Iron Chef America.

11:23 p.m. - Watching DVR in my room. Because I can.

Because we have a dedicated HD receiver in the living room now, the old standard definition was hooked up to the TV in my room. This is great for my embarrassingly lackluster television-viewing habits.

11:41 p.m. - Getting some writing in before midnight.

Gotta love a good bar scene, no?

Think Blue.

2009-09-03T15:43:00.000-07:00

Happiness is being stuck in a car somewhere outside Dodger Stadium because a brush fire caused them to close the Elysian Park exit, but not caring because you and your friend are singing "Mr. Roboto" and random Britney Spears tunes at the tops of your lungs with your windows rolled down.

And here we go...

2009-08-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

The file from the Franz Ferdinand show finally uploaded. Check it.

HOME SWEET HOME

2009-08-29T00:33:00.001-07:00

So this past week, I purchased a new toy for myself...

A few years back, I bought an Olympus digital camera. Now, I not the unklutziest of people and have dropped the thing a couple of times. As a result, if I even do so much as breathe while taking a picture with it, the picture is blurry. Image stability FAIL. I did find that if braced the camera against something solid, I had better luck with my shots, but who wants to constantly do that? "Not I," said the Little Red Hen.

Fast forward to last week. Given that we had just hit the four-months-'til-Christmas mark, I knew that it was only a matter of time before my parents start asking me for a Christmas List. One thing that I thought of was a new digital camera. I did some online research and found one that intrigued me. On Monday night, I stopped into Best Buy to do some research for a project and to check the camera out. Um, well, um... It was on sale and I went ahead and bought it for myself. A Canon PowerShot SD960 IS. 12.0 megapixels. HD video. I'm in love. I think I shall name it. It has to be an 'M' name, given that my car is "Marcie" and my iPhone is "Mildred." Any suggestions?

ANYWAYS.

This post will mark the transition from Olympus to the new Canon. I recently finished up a collection of photos taken around my neighborhood -- Silver Lake, Echo Park, and Los Feliz. All of the photos were taken by my old Olympus. So in her honor, I give you "THE NEIGHBORHOOD."

For what it's worth, I will not be getting rid of my Olympus, not because I anticipate choosing to use it over my new one, but because I would feel horrible if I did banish it from my home. Much like my car and my childhood stuffed animals, the camera has feelings and I'd hate to do anything that would cause it emotional turmoil -- especially after I unintentionally dropped it on its head so many times.

Last night, while at the Franz Ferdinand concert at The Palladium, I took video with the new toy. Because it's literally going to take another four hours to finish uploading to YouTube, that'll have to be the next post. I know you're just dying of excitement. (And this is where I hold up my "SARCASM" sign, Leonard-style.)

Everyone have a fantastic weekend!

13 of 12 for August 2009.

2009-08-12T23:07:00.000-07:00

It's August 12, 2009. How in the hey-hey did it get to be August already? Before we know it, it'll be time for me to start Christmas shopping. It is just around the corner, after all. (Bite my tongue, I know, I know...)

But yes, it's August 12. That means it's time for 12 of 12. Check out creator Chad Darnell's site for more information and to see entries from all over the world. This thing has taken off like crazy the last couple of years!

So without further adieu (because I'm exhausted and ready for sleep), here are my 12-ish pics:

7:46 a.m. - Lead me not into temptation...

Why does my bed have to look so inviting when I've just managed to pull myself out of it? Today was especially torturous.

8:07 a.m. - Putting on my face.

My make-up/medicine cabinet. If you can't tell, I like Clinique. I'm fairly certain I am still suffering the effects of Fetal Clinique Syndrome, as that's all my mother has worn as long as I've known her.

9:05 a.m. - Sneaky, sneaky.

After the horrible-no-good-very-bad-uncomfortable incident on Saturday afternoon in which a man from the halfway house across the street proceeded to run across the street when my car pulled up and stand in front of the stairs waiting on me to get out of my car, I now check outside to mentally prepare myself in case I see him. He's usually sitting on the curb of the median smoking a cigarette in the mornings. He wasn't there today.

9:25 a.m. - The Wilford Brimley School of Translation.

I'm sorry, but that's what the guy on that sign looks like. It's Wilford Brimley in a mortarboard. I wonder if he teaches students how to say "diabetes." This is one of my favorite things to see on my commute to work down Olympic in the morning.

9:59 a.m. - New Workspace.

My office recently did musical chairs with cubicles and offices and I ended up in this one. I love it for many reasons, not the least of which because I have a wall that I can hang my Old Hollywood picture on. I just love how cozy and classy that looks. Special cameo appearance by the Casa Descanso orchid. It was doing camera check for the orchid I'll be purchasing this weekend.

1:27 p.m. - Off to the gym.

Because I had an event to go to this evening, I went to the gym over my lunch break. On the left side of the picture, you can see some people beside a tree. It was protestors in a labor dispute. Those "Shame On _____!" banners always make me laugh, which I'm sure is not the intended response.

2:53 p.m. - When your mind's made up...

I was delighted to see a link from NPR on my Facebook page for a Swell Season "Tiny Desk" concert. I had no idea they have a new album coming out in October. Now I'm really excited.

5:37 p.m. - CHEEZ-ITS!

Okay, I know this probably negates all the "brownie points" I earned by going to the gym, but I wanted -- nay, I needed -- some Cheez-Its. Okay, I needed something un-sweet and I decided on Cheez-Its. Whatever. They're good and they're my writing snack. Not that I had time today to even think about writing...

6:54 p.m. - Did I really just see that?!?! WTF, CW?!

Unfortunately, you can't really tell in this picture due to size, but that poster totally says "TUESDAY'S THE NEW HUMPDAY." I managed to find the poster online here. Wow, CW. That's...that's wow.

7:11 p.m. - Screw you guys, I'm going home!

My boss graciously gave me his ATAS invitation for the Evening With the Family Guy thing in Hollywood tonight. I thought it was going to be a smaller, more-intimate event like the other Academy events I've gone to. The location of this event was practically at the corner of Vine and Selma. I'm not kidding you when I say the line stretched from the theatre all the way down Vine and around the corner half a block down Hollywood Blvd. I stood in line for fifteen minutes or so and then decided to give up and walked all the way back to the Palladium to get my car.

8:17 p.m. - When life throws you lemons, eat Lebanese food!

And by "lemons," I mean that my poor roomie is sick with the flu from Hell. I dropped her off at Kaiser's Urgent Care and then dropped into Zankou Chicken for a Chicken Tarna Wrap and some hummus. (But no beets. BLECH.)

9:59 p.m. - Wine and Hardison, er, I mean Leverage.

Look! I even caught Hardison in the picture! This is my favorite show of the summer and has very quickly made it up on my list of dream shows to work on.

10:45 p.m. - WINE. (Special Bonus Pic)

I'm only including this one because I took an extra one and I like it. So there. I'm going to bed.

Missing My Sissy...

2009-08-08T10:15:00.000-07:00

And I reckon that as soon as she can see this blog -- in approximately five and a half weeks -- she will want to murder me in my sleep for calling her "sissy." She used to hate it when I did that in high school, though I honestly never did it to "get her goat." It was a genuine term of affection.

So my darling sister Katy is now in basic training for the United States Air Force at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. Now, I haven't lived within 1,000 miles of my sister since I left for Los Angeles six years ago, but somehow I really, really miss her. We had gotten into a habit of talking on the phone during my work commute most mornings, so that first Tuesday after she left was very difficult.

When she first told me that she was planning on joining a year or so back (the entire process took a long time), my immediate reaction was to tear up and tell her "NO." In my mind, I saw my sister getting shipped overseas to assist in the wars, thus putting her life at risk. Selfishly, I found myself hoping that they would deny her entry based on her history of migraine headaches or Osgood-Schlatter's Disease. It's something I'm not necessarily proud of and I eventually got over it. Katy had been down for a little bit, feeling like she was a failure and a financial burden, so I worried that this was a knee-jerk reaction and something she was doing because she felt it was her only way out. She proved me wrong, though. Over time, I realized that this was something she honestly wanted to do, something she was actually excited about. At that point, I couldn't help but be excited for her.

I was lucky to be home in Texas the week before she left for basic training. She made me administrator on the Facebook group that would provide people updates on what she was doing and how to get in touch with her. I was going to be the one call she got to make upon arrival in San Antonio. I kept my phone near me all day long. The one exception was a yoga class that started at 8:30 p.m. my time (which would have been 10:30 p.m. there). I figured that by that point, she had decided to call my mom instead. I always assumed military folk were "early to bed, early to rise." I was in the midst of downward-facing dog when I heard the xylophoney iPhone ringtone coming from the cubby area at the back of the studio. Even though at least half of the people in there probably had iPhones, I knew in my heart it was her. I spent the rest of yoga silently crying and feeling like Sister Failure. Once class was over, I ran to my phone and confirmed that it was indeed a 210 number that called. I was her one call and I missed it. Her voicemail was surprisingly terse. She called me "Amanda," which she hadn't really done in years (she uses my nickname "Mush"). Her voice sounded upbeat, but she gave me her address and then she was gone.

My only selfish worry now is that the Air Force is going to change my sister. I know it's going to change her. The thing is... I love my sister the way she is. My goofy, happy, make-her-sister-blush Katy. She's "the mean aunt" to my nephew (which actually means she's the loud, slightly-bossy one). She's the person who went around to select boys at the Lake View High School Homecoming Dance my senior year and told them to ask me to dance. She's the one who can seemingly say anything to my grandpa and, rather than offend him, make him laugh. She's the one who seems to make it her life's purpose when I'm home to make me laugh very loudly -- even if whatever she does gets her in "trouble" with our mom.

I can only hope that the Air Force simply "improves" or "upgrades" my sister. She'll still be the same goofy girl on the inside, but with a more grown-up outlook. From what I've heard, she's excelling in San Antonio. She's been given extra responsibilities and actually won half an hour of patio time by answering 13-of-13 questions correctly in front of her commanders. She's playing trumpet in the band. I'm disappointed that I won't be able to attend her graduation ceremony next month. It's at 7:15 a.m. on a Friday morning, which makes it difficult for me to take time off of work. I promise to make it up to her when she's out here...

Because she will be! She's going to language school in Monterey, which means we'll share a time zone and, once she has off-base privileges, will actually get to hang out. Her official title is going to be cryptolinguist -- and how badass is that? I can't wait to get to see her and hug her neck and take her out for her birthday. Even though I was trepidatious about her joining, I could not be prouder of her and I can not wait to show her off... My badass cryptolinguist sister.

Ain't it funny how a melody can bring back a memory?

2009-07-09T00:10:00.000-07:00

“We all have a song that somehow stamped our lives / Takes us to another place and time...”

Like the Kenny Chesney song says, we all have certain songs that remind us of certain moments in our lives. I have a whopping 20 songs, and that’s after whittling them down!

Your mission, should you choose to accept it -- and you should -- is to post the songs that have “stamped” your life. It can be as few or as many as you need it to be. Tell the story that goes along with each song and then title your blog/Facebook note/LiveJournal post/WHATEVER “[YOUR NAME]: The Album.”

Here’s mine...

Amanda: The Album

“Count Your Blessings” - Bing Crosby
This is probably one of the earliest songs that affected me. This is the song my mom would sing me when I was a baby and a little girl. It automatically makes me think of my mom, which is probably why it’s towards the top of every “homesick” playlist I put together.

“From a Distance” - Bette Midler
Oh, sixth grade and junior high... In the seventh and eighth grade, I was in the Goddard Junior High School honor choir. Late in the school year, we put on a concert in which the choir members paired up for duets or sang solos. I paired up with Julie Cress to sing “From a Distance,” which I also remember one of the characters in the “Girl Talk” book series singing in a talent show, but whatever. I had such stage fright that I didn’t want my parents to come, so I arranged for Julie’s family to pick me up. I told my parents that I was just going to hang out with Julie. I kind of feel guilty about that now... So if anyone has video of that particular performance, please hook me up. I remember that I was wearing my Easter dress from that year -- a semi-off-the-shoulder floral-print dress from Sears. I remember feeling so grown up. I remember actually...liking being on stage.

“Life is a Highway” - Tom Cochrane
In the eighth grade, my parents let me go on my first “away” trip with a friend. Stacey Head and her family were kind enough to invite me to their cabin at Lake Possum Kingdom. Stacey and I were 14 at the time, but her mom let her take the Suburban out for a drive, as long as we stayed on the dirt roads out by the lake house. We played this song on cassette on loop as we drove and I remember laughing and feeling so free and scandalous.

“What a Friend We Have in Jesus/His Eye Is On The Sparrow” - Athena
I’m not particularly attached to this version of the song/medley, but still. “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” reminds me of church services as a child, but “His Eye is On The Sparrow” is the one that really affects me. It’s the song that was sung at my Poppy’s funeral, so that’s always what I associate with it. I got the news that my grandfather died on the day that we took yearbook pictures my junior year. My eyes are really puffy and you can tell that my smile was forced. As sad as the day of the funeral was -- and as sad as that memory is -- this song is still very uplifting to me and is one of my favorite hymns.

“Strawberry Wine” - Deana Carter
Sigh. Homecoming Dance during my senior year of high school. I remember my sister Katy going around and telling boys to ask me to dance. No one did and I remember sitting there the last song, feeling a bit sad that the only songs that I really danced to were “La Macarena” (we taught the foreign exchange student) and, I think, “The Cotton-Eyed Joe.” I still remember what I was wearing that night, too. I was a trainer on the football team, so I had run home to change into my cute cream-colored v-neck sweater and, of course, my faux Doc Martens.

“I Want You” - Savage Garden
Lake View High School Senior Picnic. I had just arrived and was talking to whoever was manning the grill at the ASU Lake Facility. It smelled like hamburgers. It was a good night.

“Livin’ La Vida Loca” - Ricky Martin
Ah, the night of my first real drink. It was a week before I turned 20 and I was with a group of fellow “Rampage” (ASU’s newspaper) staffers at the Texas Intercollegiate Press Conference in Kerrville. We were watching The Grammy Awards and saw Ricky Martin semi-debut this song live -- and we were hooked. While watching said awards show, we were enjoying a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill. Half a cheapo motel room cup of it made my stomach hurt and I think I fell over when I was sitting down. It’s as pathetic as it sounds, but a lovely memory.

“Time To Say Goodbye” - Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman
The great Las Vegas trip of 1999. My Aunt Karen and I went to see The Backstreet Boys in Vegas. (Shut up.) After a fun day involving getting to sit on one of their tour buses (shut up), we walked down the strip from MGM Grand to McDonalds and to see the Bellagio Fountains. The first Fountain show I ever saw was "Time to Say Goodbye." It took me ten years to see that particular show again -- and I’ve seen it during both of my last two trips to Vegas -- but you never forget your first. Or something like that.

“The Texas Tech Fight Song” - The Goin’ Band From Raiderland
I’ll take every wonderful minute of my time at Texas Tech. Though I think one of the most memorable moments with that song occurred during the great Texas A&M v. Texas Tech debacle of 2000. (“It was like the Alamo.”) It’s a moment I’m not proud of in my school’s history, but it was the first time I heard the alternative lyrics to the song. I was appropriately scandalized. Also? GASTON GIRLS FOREVER!

“Boys From Oklahoma” - Cross Canadian Ragweed
This one was hard to narrow down to just one moment. I’ve had lots of great, memorable times with this song, but I’ll mention the most memorable -- the first time I heard this song. It was colder than a big dog the night of January 15, 2001, but I decided to go and camp out at the United Spirit Arena for the Texas Tech v. Oklahoma basketball game. It was Bobby Knight's first season at Tech and the Red Raiders had a shot at making it into the Big Dance. Thanks to that glorious thing called the Internet, alumni from all over the country called in and placed pizza orders to be delivered to us. The frat boys I was sitting with -- including one I’ve become acquainted with here in L.A. (but just realized this recently) -- played this particular song. And they even let me wear their wig!

“Time Of Your Life” - Green Day
I was at the Lubbock Chick-Fil-A when I realized that God for-sure wanted me to move to California. I’d been questioning it and then, the door opened to the store room and there in the doorway, big as Dallas, was a box of California lemons. I just knew that was what I was supposed to do. The song playing as I ate my grilled chicken sandwich (with waffle fries!) and pondered this was “Time Of Your Life” and I will never, ever forget that moment. Nor will I forget leaving Chick-Fil-A and passing a Walgreen's marquee advertising The Hollywood Miracle Diet.

“The Matador Song” - The Goin’ Band From Raiderland
During the spring of my senior year, I took a nasty spill in my dorm room while dancing on my tile floor in my socks. I did a spin, fell hard, and broke my wrist in two. That meant that when the Texas Tech Alumni Association ring ceremony came around, I was still in a cast. Thankfully, I’d been downgraded from the full above-the-elbow cast to a below-the-elbow version. I’d chosen red as the color and used a black magic marker to draw a huge double-T on it. (I still have it in my cedar chest!) That night, it truly hit me just how close I was to graduation.

“No One Knows” - Queens of the Stone Age
What better song to pick out a tattoo to than this one? This is what was playing in the tattoo parlor when I identified what would permanently mark a small portion of my body. I chose the state of Texas with a yellow rose growing through it and a small double-T. My counselor at the time told me she was proud of me for getting it because it was the first time I’d done something to really risk my father’s disapproval. (Though is it really that much of a risk if my dad still doesn’t know about it?) To whom do I owe the inspiration for this act of rebellion? One Katy Leanne Mason.

“Miss Independent” - Kelly Clarkson
This was my “Moving to L.A.” anthem, which meant it occupied a large part of my brain during the summer of 2003. After many instances of wanting to “miss” my exit on I-20 and keep on going to L.A., I decided to “run away” to California. I saved up some money and put a deposit down on a two bedroom apartment in Westwood with three other girls who I’d never met. I told my dad and stepmom only two weeks before I moved that I was going. They were understandably upset, but got over it in time. I guess you could say that the tattoo was the precursor to this. But when I was down over the “rift” with my dad, I would listen to this song and feel better.

“Toxic” - Britney Spears
Driving down Wilshire to El Cholo with Mandy with the windows rolled down. That song was everywhere right after I moved here. 2003 FOR THE WIN.

“Amie” - Damien Rice
After quitting my job as an insurance specialist/patient recruiter/whatever with a somewhat unpleasant gynecologist, I decided to start doing background work and supplementing it with temp work. It was great at first, but soon I wasn’t getting enough of either type of work to keep myself afloat. Someone from the gyno’s office called me to practically offer me my job back -- and I started bawling once I got off the phone because I felt like my only option was to take it and go back to the absolute misery of working for that man (though I should note that my coworkers were awesome). I turned on Damien Rice’s “O” (passed down to me from former roomie Emily) while I took a shower. I remember hearing “Amie” and watching the steam rise in the shower and just knowing in my heart that it was all going to be alright. Not five minutes after I got out of the shower, I got a call from another temp agency, which meant another opportunity to get work during the week.

“The Wreckoning” - Boomkat
My all-around “kick ass” song. You know on “The Office” when Dwight is psyching himself up for his performance evaluation? Or before going in to try to make a sale? This is my version of that song. Only with a little less air guitar and “because I’m AWESOME!” And you know what? This song, like prayer, WORKS.

“Somebody Told Me” - The Killers
Comic Con 2004! The first time I heard this song, Liz and I were driving back to L.A. from San Diego. We looked at each other like we needed verification that we actually just heard the lyric “Somebody told me that you had a boyfriend that looked like a girlfriend that I had in February of last year” -- much like my current roomies and I looked at each other the first time we heard “Human.”

“Hey Ya” - Outkast
After trying to find an apartment I could afford by myself and failing miserably, Meredith and Allison jokingly asked me if I wanted to move to Silver Lake with them. I surprised them with a very quick yes and we drove in Meredith’s little blue Golf to tour the apartment which would eventually be the one next door to the one we actually rented. (That’s a fabulous story that’s just way too long for this.) While we were navigating the 10 to the 110 to the 101, we listened to Outkast’s album. We all sang along to this one -- I think we were actually on the 110N-to-101N interchange! (Before I noticed that it smells like rotten eggs.)

“See You Again” - Miley Cyrus
Shut up. My sister -- the same one who introduced me to tattoos and Queens of the Stone Age -- downloaded this song and put it on a road trip CD for our drive to the Baylor v. Texas Tech football game this past year. This resulted in her dancing in the car, which resulted in me laughing so hard I had tears coming down my cheeks. Whenever I have a down moment, all I have to do is turn on this song and I’m happy again. Thanks, Katy.

If one picture is worth 1,000 words, are 12 pictures worth 12,000 words?

2009-06-13T00:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was June 12, 2009, which meant it was 12 of 12 Day. If you don't know what 12 of 12 is, get thee to Chad Darnell's blog (linked in my linkies list) and check it out.

My contribution this month is at Flickr: June 2009 12 of 12. Enjoy and have a lovely weekend!

I'm off to Sin City, where I will be spending much of my time in my hotel room (hopefully) writing. And I am okay with that.

I'm going to Kyle it.

2009-06-05T18:36:00.000-07:00

My friend Kyle has a way with verbs. Well, he has a way with all words, but verbs in particular. There was a stretch of three days this week where I heard him verbify a different noun each day. Only Kyle can find new and exciting uses for the words or phrases "puberty," "Banff," and "Iran hostage crisis."

(Side note -- every time I type "Iran hostage crisis," I catch myself typing "Iraan hostage crisis." You can take the girl out of West Texas...)

Can you use the word in a sentence? Why yes, yes I can...

"He pubertied into a strapping young man." This is actually a variation on the actual sentence used when we saw -- or thought we saw -- another member of the Boy Meets World cast at The Stand in Century City.

"I just want to Banff that person like there's no tomorrow." Anyone whose boss has ever attended Banff Television Conference knows that just the mention of that quaint little Canadian resort during one month in the summer can drive a person to the Thirdway House. It's a scheduling nightmare. Lovely place that I would love to visit, but it's still a freaking nightmare.

"I'm going to 'Iran hostage crisis' them into giving me Lifetime Movie Network and Game Show Network for free." Word for word. Kyle was calling his cable or satellite provider. Note to self: ask him how that went.

On a side note, I can't recommend Mo's in Burbank enough. Eat there. OFTEN.

Well, hell's bells.

2009-06-01T15:29:00.000-07:00

Today is obviously not my day to win the California Lottery. Sigh.

But hey, I do have a bag of Smart Pop here, a Diet Coke, and a really sweet book that I've been asked to read for work. So it's not all bad, right?

I need to work on my spec this evening, in addition to frosting that order of cupcakes. (I'm calling this particular batch my cupcake internship.) Someone motivate me -- on the script, that is. I don't need motivation for frosting -- it's all there in the mixing bowl...

In other news, Ursula* and I went to Millie's in Silver Lake for brunch yesterday. While there, we saw a guy unironically wearing this. (Read the reviews -- absolutely hysterical.) I tried to "Kinnear" this guy, but had no luck doing so.

* Ursula is the third member of the esteemed (shut up) Casa Descanso posse. Yes, as in that Ursula. So we have Maleficent, Ursula, and me. Don't you want to come and play at our house?

The last time I freaked out, I just kept looking down, st-st-st-stuttering...

2009-05-29T11:59:00.000-07:00

You guys, it's been a good week. It's been one of the coolest, most surreal weeks I've had in a few years. I can't get into too many details because doing that might involve unintentionally spilling the beans on a project at work. (And I like being on Business Affairs' good side, thank you very much.) But I can be vague.

Well, first of all, it started off awesomely because I had Monday off of work. Short weeks are always a plus. Plus, Maleficent's mom bought the apartment a new vacuum cleaner and I can't tell you how much joy the hour I spent vacuuming my bedroom floor brought me. (I wish I was kidding.) But then there was Wednesday...

Oh, Wednesday...

On Wednesday, I got to sit in on another meeting with one of my childhood heroes. I actually think I had a wee bit of a crush on him back in sixth grade. Not only that, but my boss asked me to bake cupcakes for this meeting.

I made cupcakes. For my childhood hero.

The best part is that this guy is super awesome fantastic. It's a sitting-in-a-room-with-my-dad kind of normal, which kind of makes perfect sense since they both hail from the same geographic area. I wonder if when he says "wash," it comes out "worsh." I may have to ascertain that at the next meeting.

There were leftover cupcakes once the meeting was done, so people from work grabbed them up. That afternoon, someone asked if I was willing to bake and sell them some cupcakes. This, of course, takes me one step closer to my eventual goal of supporting myself through baking and writing. That was my first sale ever and I might have been even more excited about that than the meeting itself. Might have.

And then yesterday, after running some errands in Santa Monica, I stopped into the Subway across from Santa Monica College. There was some kind of promotion going on for Land of the Lost (which I may see just to hear Will Ferrell scream "Matt Lauer can SUCK it!") -- and Michael Strahan and Zachary Levi were there. I go in for a turkey and avocado sandwich and come out with a picture with Chuck Freaking Bartowski. Sadly, I felt kind of like a spaz because I started talking really fast and turning pink and...that's never good. But he couldn't have been nicer to Spazzy McSpazzerson and I think I might have skipped a little bit on the walk back to my car. And I think I might have a little bit of a crush.

My mom pointed out that I didn't spaz with Childhood Hero, so why did I spaz at Subway? I think it all has to do with Home Field Advantage and context. Childhood Hero was in my office and it was work-related. The Subway incident was most definitely not on my turf and was not work-related. And my blood sugar was low.

Shut up. IT WAS.

Oh. Crap.

I just realized something -- I was being Miley.

(Like the song says, I'll redeem myself next time.)

But yes. It was a spaztacularly good week. I declare it MADE OF WIN.

Pretty Song of the Day: "Girls On the Square" - Dent May & His Magical Ukelele. Yes, I know this is the second Dent May of the week. Deal with it.

I hit the highway in a pink RV with stars on the ceiling...

2009-05-26T23:30:00.000-07:00

Those are quite possibly the most important cupcakes I have ever baked. I won't get into the reasons here, but just know that the little sixth grader who resides deep beneath my oh-so-cool (bwahaha!) thirty-year-old exterior is a little giddy right now. Unfortunately, the eighty-four-year-old who resides beneath that same thirty-year-old exterior is really freaking tired and enjoying resting her back. But I think the sixth grader is going to win out in this case.

So this is not the most insightful blog entry of all time. Please accept my most sincere apologies.

And finally, this is a call to Momo and Andrew, my two winners so far. I need you fine folks to e-mail me at amandammason [at] gmail dot com. I'd like to get your episodes sent out to you.

Pretty and happy song download of the day: "Love Song 2009" - Dent May and His Magical Ukelele.

Are you with the bride? Or the failure?

2009-05-22T10:47:00.000-07:00

You know, I haven't really watched this in its entirety since it aired in 1993. I have it on VHS somewhere -- I think it's either on the tape of me being interviewed on the news while taking drivers-ed (braces FTW) or on the tape of the 1994 Winter Olympics figure skating competition -- but I haven't really pulled it out in a while. (Partially because I no longer own a VCR...) So I don't know if it's still as funny as it once was or if I am just easily amused. (It's a toss-up.) Regardless, I still quote it in every day life...

(sing-song) "He failed to bring back the sam-po! So we shall die of star-va-tion!"

"All rise. Santa Claus is now entering the lodge."

"Why is he wearing a Hershey's kiss on his head?"

"Failure! Failure! He is a failure!"

"Ever eat a pine tree? Many parts are edible." (Yes, I know that this one was a shout-out to something else...)

I guess I should tell you what "this" and "it" is... Mystery Science Theater 3000's take on "The Day The Earth Froze." I was thrilled to find it online so that I can share it and watch it whenever I need a pick-me-up. Enjoy!

Mystery Science Theater 3000 episode 422: "The Day The Earth Froze"

(I should note that the episode starts off with a short film entitled "Here Comes The Circus," so don't be confused. Cheesy Swedish goodness will start shortly thereafter.)

Also, here's today's Pretty Song Download of the Day: Rob Dickinson's cover of "Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want." Now go and purchase the entire album!

Los Angeles, I'm yours...

2009-05-20T18:18:00.000-07:00

Have you ever wondered what would happen if the White Stripes had collaborated with The Decemberists on “The Crane Wife?”

Neither had I, but if I ever had wondered, I got my answer last night. That answer is The Decemberists’ latest album “The Hazards of Love.”

When I initially saw that The Decemberists were playing The Palladium in Hollywood, I didn’t give much thought to buying tickets. I enjoyed “The Crane Wife” quite a bit – it’s still one of my favorite albums to listen to when I’m unwinding after a long day at work. But that’s exactly the problem – it’s relaxation music. And after a long day at work, I didn’t care to stand at The Palladium while being serenaded with lullabies. I'm bipedal and it’s kind of hard to stand and sleep!

Then came this past Monday. I was at the intersection of Vermont and Wilshire when the first notes of “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid” began playing on Morning Become Eclectic. It sounded like what I consider a typical Decemberists song to sound like. I began picturing people in period hoop skirts in plantation houses with oil lamps – and then that guitar started. That guitar, people. Holy moly. I was caught completely by surprise. And just like that, I started to regret not looking for tickets.

I completely lucked out yesterday, though. KCRW was giving away tickets and I happened to win a pair. Truthfully, I was mainly calling for the Other Lives album – I figured the tickets would have been given away by the time I finally got through on the phone. Nope! I won a pair of tickets to the show and that Other Lives CD. Autographed, no less!

Other Lives was amazing and a perfect complement for The Decemberists. In fact, they might be my new favorite band of the moment. I’m a sucker for a band with a cello – I can’t help it. Starbucks gave away free iTunes downloads of their “Black Tables” single a month or so ago and it immediately hooked me. (It was even more gorgeous live -- true facts!) One of my favorite “Tweets” during intermission was that Other Lives had just sold 4,000 albums. Again with true facts. Had I not won a copy earlier in the day, I’d have bought it myself.

(Side note: I was very amused to learn that they’re from Stillwater, Okla., especially considering my deep affection for that other band from Stillwater, Okla.)

Having not yet heard “The Hazards of Love” (aside from the occasional song on KCRW), I was still expecting a mellow show from The Decemberists. I was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. I wish I had video capability on my phone because, let me tell you, a mass of head-banging hipsters is quite a sight to behold. It was obvious that, unlike me, most of the crowd knew what was coming. What I later learned is that the entire first half of the show was “The Hazards of Love” in its entirety – with no break. That’s 58 minutes and 37 seconds of music with not one moment of silence. In fact, the band didn’t even introduce themselves until the second half of their set.

The entire set was awesome, but you guys. YOU GUYS. “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid.” As fantastic and opinion-changing as it was on the radio that morning in K-Town, multiply that by 47. Y’all know I’m not a big fan of cussin’, but holy shit. Shara Worden hit all of her notes and she was jumping up and down and dancing and did I mention that she hit all of her notes? Mind? BLOWN. Head? Banging.

After the band wrapped up the album portion, they said they were going to take a break and come back for some more music. I figured it was going to be a typical encore of one or two songs. I need to quit assuming things. Once they returned, they played for a whole HOUR more with their older stuff – “Los Angeles, I’m Yours,” “July, July,” “O Valencia” and “Yankee Bayonet” just to name a few. And then they did an actual encore after that!

One of the last images of the show was a band member playing the bass – not the bass guitar, the actual bass – while lying on his back, Hendrix-style. That should tell you something. It was such a great show that I dropped $30 on the concert poster to commemorate. Actually, I would venture to say that it’s among my top five concerts of all time. Between the two bands, that was almost three full hours of live music. If they come to your city or even near your city, I highly recommend checking them out.

If you’re interested, you can check out the live sets that both bands did on Morning Becomes Eclectic: The Decemberists and Other Lives. And because this single was given away for free by Starbucks to promote the album, I don’t feel bad about posting it here: “Black Tables” by Other Lives. Now go buy the album so I don't look like too much of a pirate. Arrrrr!

Work on your mu-sic?

2009-05-18T16:01:00.000-07:00

Who am I and what have I done with Amanda?

The following is an IM conversation I had with my roommate (who we will henceforth refer to as "Maleficent"*) this morning:

Amanda (10:29:48 AM): Well on iTunes, I downloaded the Kooks, which is really good. And on eMusic (which is mp3, and easy to share), I downloaded Passion Pit
Amanda (10:30:17 AM): And a couple of songs from Dent May and His Magical Ukelele
Amanda (10:30:22 AM): Oh and the Patrick Watson album
Maleficent (10:35:24 AM): i have no idea who some of those people are
Amanda (10:35:53 AM): I just read what I wrote and was all, "Whuuuuuh?" Jason Bentley has inspired me!
Maleficent (10:36:04 AM): tee hee
Amanda (10:36:06 AM): (As well as my eMusic account, which is probably the best $11 I spend all month.)
Maleficent (10:36:31 AM): good!
Amanda (10:36:48 AM): Bentley has been playing a song called "Big Bird in a Small Cage" quite a bit recently. First time I heard it, I thought it was an Alison Krauss duet.
Amanda (10:36:55 AM): It was by Patrick Watson.
Amanda (10:37:25 AM): So I did that. Passion Pit is kind of like Vampire Weekend and Little Joy (note to self - find that album) in that they're very upbeat.
Amanda (10:37:28 AM): With a hint of MGMT
Maleficent (10:37:44 AM): HEE
Maleficent (10:37:47 AM): you're cracking me up.

* Yes, as in that Maleficent. This was her choice, not mine. I'm not making any statements on her personality, as I don't make a habit of cohabitating with bitchy witches who morph into dragons. Just to clear that up... (Though now I'm imagining the real Maleficent saying "tee hee" and it's muy amusing.)

(Real) Maleficent: Tee hee! You fools crack me up! Thinking you could defeat me, *me*! The Mistress of All Evil! Well, here's your precious princess!

My favorite thing this morning was the realization that the cover of Vampire Weekend's "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" that was playing was being performed by none other than Peter Gabriel (with Hot Chip). Earlier in the conversation, we discussed how The Decemberists bring to mind sedate music, but that the single I heard this morning was "rocking." (That would be "The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid.")

Don't get me wrong, I've liked indie music before. This is nothing new to me -- but never to this degree. Before, it was a little Band of Horses here, a smidge of The Shins there, with a pinch of Arcade Fire on top. Now, I'm actually talking about bands called Vampire Weekend and The Kooks and Passion Pit with a straight face. With the what now?

It's not like I spend, well, any time at the Echoes or the Spacelands of the world. Having a job doesn't allow me to drop into Amoeba for their live sets. No, this gradual adoration of indie music is due in large part to KCRW's Morning Becomes Eclectic, which makes my morning commutes somewhat enjoyable. (Sorry, Jason Bentley, but not even your fantastic music selection can completely negate over half an hour in my car.) The show is available for live streaming through iTunes on weekdays from 9 a.m. to 12 noon PST. You can also listen to the most recent show any time at KCRW's web site. Two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Other influences are television and the Interschnitzel because, let's face it, I am weak and quite malleable when it comes to product placement and music usage. In my defense, I've always been a soundtrack junkie. The first show that did music well (for me) was Alias. By the time that show was over, I had an iPod playlist long enough to get me through an entire eight hour workday. Now, there are shows like Chuck and Grey's (even though I haven't watched in two years), which have added about three more workdays to Telly the iPod.

If any of these bands intrigue you at all, I also have to use this opportunity to recommend Rockville CA, which is a web series streaming at TheWB.com. The afore-mentioned Passion Pit and The Kooks were each featured in webisodes of the show. Plus, it's very fun, so run along now and give it a look!

On a completely random aesthetic note, is it just me or does the cover for Vampire Weekend's album remind one of Hotel Hudson in NYC? That brings to mind bagels and Apple Jacks and Grimaldi's in Brooklyn and Dr. Stephen T. Colbert, D.F.A. And oh I need to go back sooooon.

I shall leave you with my favorite quote of the day, brought to you by our dear friend Maleficent. I'm not even going to provide context, because it's even more fun without it...

Maleficent (12:20:50 PM): LOL, (my boss) just asked me to tweet about yoga and sex today.

Thirty, Flirty and Thriving. Well, 33% of the way there...

2009-04-29T20:19:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, I turn 30 and while tradition apparently dictates that I wail, gnash my teeth, and rend my garments, I'm not overly concerned about it. No, I'm not married. No, I'm not dating anyone. Yes, I'm (still) an assistant.

But damn it, I've got a really great natural hair color. And that set guy on Alias told me that I have a perfect nose. I'm a good writer when I actually sit down to, you know, actually do it. I can bake. I live in the most awesomely awesome neighborhood in Los Angeles. I've got insanely fantastic friends who will jump on the bed with me in Las Vegas and not make fun of me when my bra is showing at the McDonald's in the MGM Grand. And I'm going to a trendy, frou-frou restaurant for dinner tomorrow night. I think I've got it pretty good at the moment. (Of course, I do reserve the right to whine whenever I want to...)

Okay. Got that out of the way. Now I can cash in my reservation to whine...

I have had it with 818 and 310 numbers calling me that have nothing to do

with anything besides my car warranty being up. I usually reserve the not-answering-the-phone thing for 866, 877, and 800 numbers, along with rando area codes that I do not recognize. When I see 818 or 310, my heart normally stops and I ask myself, "Could this be the moment? Could this be the call I've been waiting for?" And inevitably, I picture myself driving through a studio lot in a golf cart, my caramel colored hair (no split ends in this image) flowing in the breeze... Only to hear Mr. Roboto tell me about a carpet-cleaning special when I don't even freaking own my duplex. What. The. Hey-Hey?! Cue the soul-crushing.

This is so not cool, universe. Not cool at all.

P.S. If you've gotten a resume from me, you're more than welcome to call, though. Hint, hint. I'd like to actually drive that golf cart while my hair is still caramel-colored and not, you know, the color of Oscar the Grouch's trash can.

But I'm not concerned about 30.

Nope.

Really.

Watch "Chuck" or I will CUT YOU.

2009-04-08T18:29:00.000-07:00

So here’s the deal.

I’m turning 30 in approximately 22 days. For the past two months, my parents have been after me to tell them what I want for this very special birthday. I mean, there are things that I actually want – like the Hannah handbag from Fossil and an iPhone and one of Landry Clark’s awesome “Keep Austin Weird” shirts – but the things I want most, they have absolutely no control over... A million dollars. A decent, good-looking man. A flourishing career. A pony. And a Chuck renewal.

One of my most embarrassing memories of my childhood is bursting into tears one Christmas when my grandparents got me a fake make-up kit. I had wanted real makeup because I was a big girl. (And clearly, all the other eight-year-olds at my elementary school were wearing it.) Instead, I got a plastic applicator with plastic eye shadow and I went to a corner where I thought they couldn’t find me and I cried. Eventually they did find me and my grandparents felt horrible about it, which ended up making me feel horrible about it for the next twenty years. Thinking back on it, (a) the fake-up kit was really kind of cute and (b) I am mortified at how ungrateful I seemed, but that plastic eye shadow broke my heart. I like to think that being of a certain age I am above such histrionics. But if I don’t get that Chuck renewal, all bets are off.

(Unfortunately, save for a few friends who work at the National Broadcasting Company, I don’t think anyone there gives a rat’s behind that their "Infronts" fall just five days after my golden birthday. But it’s worth a shot, yes?)

You guys, I am in complete love with this show. I love, like, everything about it. I literally look forward to Mondays because of it and that’s not an exaggeration. I get free lunch in our departmental staff meetings, I go to pub trivia with Allison and Meredith, and then I go home and watch Chuck. When I leave for work on Monday mornings, I actually lay my pajamas and my fuzzy pastel rainbow socks out so that I can quickly change my clothes before what Meredith and I affectionately refer to as “Chuckles time.” Keep in mind that said Chuckles time takes place at approximately 12 midnight P.S.T., given that my roommates and I participate in the afore-mentioned pub trivia. Basically, coming home from trivia is like getting up on Christmas morning when I was a kid – except it’s not a My Little Pony or Yamaha keyboard or a Sony Walkman (or plastic make-up, for that matter) under the tree. It’s approximately 43 minutes of pure, unadulterated television fun.

It should come as no surprise that I like the show. Among the ranks of my favorite television shows (past and present) are Alias and The Office (U.S.). It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that I might be interested in a hybrid of the two. But it didn’t start off that way. When the show premiered in 2007, I recall seeing bus ads and rolling my eyes. I had absolutely no interest in getting involved with another spy show and, really, how dare they even try to top the awesomeness that was Alias?? Then something happened, and by “something” I mean the 2008 Summer Olympics. Or, more specifically, Michael Phelps. Or, if you want to get even more specific, Michael Phelps’ body. (Shut up.) But during the Olympics, NBC was running some absolutely adorable ads for the show. I managed to hunt down my two favorites on YouTube.

To make the long story short, those ads led me to the Emmy screeners at work, which led me to Hulu, which led to me Netflixing the DVDs, which led to me buying the DVDs, which led to me being absolutely hooked by the time “Chuck vs. The First Date” aired last September, which led to me being a huge dork about the show, which led to me breaking my normal “television professional” persona to blog about it today.

So here I am in 2009, begging my one blog follower (I’m going to just call you Mel), to give the show a try. If I had that million dollars, I’d totally buy the DVDs for you and send you a full season subscription on iTunes, but I don’t. So, you’ll just have to trust me when I outline a few reasons why you should watch (in no particular order):

Chuck. And Sarah and Casey and Ellie and Awesome and…: One of the things I love more about television than film is that viewers get a longer period of time to get to know a character. Yes, Chuck is funny and yes, it’s a spy show, but my favorite parts are the smaller character moments. Season two has been amazing in that respect – hearing Chuck talk about why the often insufferable Morgan is his best friend, finding out just a little more about Sarah’s past in high school and with her father, and, in this most recent episode, watching Chuck learn the truth about his own dad. I’d elaborate further, but I don’t want to spoil you because it’s a rather big plot point. I could go on and on about the characters – about how awesome Captain Awesome (aka Devon) is, or how hilarious Casey is with his Reagan worship, and how creepily endearing Jeff and Lester can be at times. I’m going to spare you, though.

Zachary Levi. And Yvonne Strahovski and Adam Baldwin and Sarah Lancaster and Ryan McPartlin and…: When I first started watching this show, the only person I knew by name was Sarah Lancaster. I really liked Sarah on What About Brian? (remember that show?) on ABC. Also, I worked as background on Dr. Vegas for a little bit, so I remember her from that, though the dark hair threw me off at first. But the rest of them? Nary a clue, but what a nice surprise. And again, it’s those character moments that allow the cast to really shine – Ellie (Sarah Lancaster) and Chuck (Zac Levi) dealing with the reappearance of their father, Casey (Adam Baldwin) going to bat for Chuck in the season opener, Sarah (Yvonne Strahovski) reacting to her father disappearing from her life once again… And have I mentioned the guest appearances? Scott Bakula, Bruce Boxleitner, Morgan Fairchild, Chevy Chase, John Laroquette, and the list goes on.

Cake. And Frightened Rabbit and Bon Iver and Blitzen Trapper and Pop Levi and…: Alexandra Patsavas is a musical genius. Much like with the cast, I had never heard of more than half of the bands whose music appears on Chuck. You can bet I know of them now and that is thanks to the incredibly effective use of songs. There’s even a Live Journal community dedicated to the music used on the show! Need video evidence of the awesomeness? Frightened Rabbit’s “The Twist,” which I could not stop listening to the week after this aired. Other favorites include the use of Bon Iver’s “Skinny Love” and “Blood Bank,” as well as “Keep Yourself Warm” (also by Frightened Rabbit), despite what was, ahem, going on in that scene.

That’s only three reasons to watch Chuck, but there are so many more. The main thing I want you to take away from this is that it’s a good show. It’s a really, really ridiculously good show. It’s funny and it’s heartfelt and it's romantic and, more recently, it’s friggin' intense.

So please check it out, especially if you’re a Nielsen viewer. If you don’t check it out and Nielsen calls, please lie through your teeth. If you could also tell them that you’re loaded and that you’re between the ages of 18 and 49, that would be awesome, too.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shut up and return to my normal television professional persona.

Right after I go watch some more clips on YouTube…

"Chuck" airs on NBC on Monday nights at 8 p.m. EST/7 p.m. CST. Most of the second season is available for free viewing on Hulu. The first season is on DVD and the entire second season (thus far) is available for purchase on iTunes. Go forth and view.

P.S. I have to give major props to Give Me My Remote for making it Chuck Week at their awesome site. Thanks, y'all!

Ever feel like a character in a Candace Bushnell novel?

2009-03-18T12:48:00.000-07:00

Here's my Facebook status from yesterday: "Mandy is listening to the most recent Morning Becomes Eclectic, admiring her new Betsy Johnsons, and contemplating a class at UCLA Extension. She feels interesting." Seriously. I felt like I sounded like a character in "Sex and the City" or something. I think it was just using "her new Betsy Johnsons" that made me feel that way.

So yes. I have new shoes. The network which employs me just wrapped a movie involving high fashion and the development executive, upon discovering that I had size 7 1/2 feet, graciously gave me a pair of shoes from said movie. I have never in my life worn such ostentatious shoes. (I almost said that I had never owned such ostentatious shoes, but that's a falsehood. I did, for some time, own a pair of avocado green platform sandals, but I never did wear them out of the house because I couldn't find anything to coordinate them with.)

I may have to start buying more interesting shoes. As my roomie put it, these were quite the ice breaker. Everywhere I went yesterday, people were telling me how cute my shoes were. The bathroom. The hallway. CAA. Poquito Mas. And here I had gone along thinking that shoes were just something to cover my feet... But maybe I can meet Prince Charming and then write a Lifetime movie about how Betsy Johnson changed my life because Prince Charming noticed my shoes.

I also need to buy some in-soles, because hoo boy these things hurt like nobody's business. I was walking around like Malibu Barbie. Not only were they tall, but the balls of my feet were screaming at me. Yeah, I could have put on my more conservative Naturalizers, but naaaah. BEAUTY IS PAIN, RIGHT?

I did have a funny realization -- These shoes actually match a dress I owned at age six. It had a foofy skirt and red rick-rack and bright floral colors. When I played Eve in the church play, that's what I wore. Because that's totally what the real Eve wore and all.

Is NOTHING sacred?

2009-03-16T11:17:00.001-07:00

A MacGyver movie?? SERIOUSLY?

No. Really.

SERIOUSLY??

It's Friday, I'm (not) in love.

2009-03-10T16:24:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have those conversations that go the same way day after day after day?

Like, take for instance, the "Friday" conversation. I loathe this conversation, but it's unavoidable on a Friday. And, well, if I don't catch myself, I find myself becoming part of the problem.

INT. CENTURY CITY OFFICE BUILDING - ELEVATOR - DAY

Your typical busy morning. People rush into elevator cars with their STARBUCKS CUPS. Two of these people are JANE and JOHN, co-workers at the same company.

JOHN
Mornin'.

JANE
Hey John. How are you?

JOHN
Oh, doin' great. Have my Starbucks. It's Friday.

JANE
Yep, it's Friday.

JOHN
I'm so glad. Got any big plans for the weekend?

JANE
Nope. Just rest. This week was just...augh.

JOHN
Sounds like a plan.

Okay, see what I mean? That scene doesn't even have to take place in an elevator. It could be at the bathroom sink. (Anywhere else in the bathroom and it's uncomfortable.) It could be at the coffee machine. It could be at the odious Arrowhead water cooler. Friday, Friday, Friday.

Look, I enjoy my alarm-clock-free days as much as the next girl. Really. But we need to move beyond the Friday conversation. My goal is to never say "It's Friday" ever again. I don't know why it bugs, but it does.

But now I've noticed a new phenomenon in my not-quite-social life. I'm finding myself having the same conversations with clients on a day-to-day basis. For example:

ME: "(Executive's) office."
CLIENT: "Hi, Amanda. It's (Client)."
ME: "Hi (Client)!"
CLIENT: "How are you?"
ME: "I'm fine. How are you today?" (I intentionally tack a "today" on the end so as not to seem like a copy-cat.)
CLIENT: "I'm fine, too."
ME: "That's good!"
CLIENT: "Is (Executive) around?"
ME: "He's actually in a meeting. Can I have him give you a call back?"
CLIENT: "Yes, please."
ME: "I'll do that."
CLIENT: "Thanks, Amanda."
ME: "Thanks, (Client)."

Every. Time. We. Talk.

I need to mix this up a bit. Any ideas?

Fancy-pants Chinese Food

2009-02-28T23:08:00.001-08:00

(This is totally a post with "Nay Nay Contraire" written all over it.)

At the moment, I am in Vegas completely living it up. It's 11:09 p.m. and I, 29, am sitting on my bed with the remains of my fancy-pants Chinese food on a plate near my feet. To my credit, I'm writing. BUT STILL. My mom and her (completely awesome) BFF went to see Donny and Marie Osmond at 7:30 p.m. It's a 90-minute show and I know they had backstage passes, but really. I hope my mom's not making out with Donny Osmond right now, even though it would fulfill a teenage fantasy of hers, I'm sure. And I'm going to stop right there before I (a) squick myself out or (b) incur the wrath of my mother.

We were going to grab some dinner when she returned, but when it got to be 10:19 and my mother's phone was still off, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Every time I've stayed at New York New York prior to this, I've been intrigued by Chin Chin. I've eaten at the Chin Chin in Los Angeles, but never the one in the hotel. This afternoon, the mom and I split a Chinese chicken salad... And I just went back for some orange chicken. Now, the salad was perfectly lovely. It was the size of a toddler's head and easily split between two people. And when you take into consideration the extra amount of time it takes to eat shredded lettuce with chopsticks, it worked perfectly. The orange chicken? Ehhhh.

Perhaps I'm spoiled by the abundance of cheap Chinese food outlets in my neck of the woods (Yang Chow, I am looking at YOU, even if you're not really cheap), but this kind of...sucks. If I'm gonna pay $14.50 plus $1.50 for steamed rice plus tax and gratuity, don't make it mostly undercooked onions and bell peppers. For $14.50, I best be getting a container full of non-Weight-Watchers-approved morsels of battered goodness. Really lame, Chin Chin. REALLY LAME.

ALSO? Your to-go chopsticks are sucky and puny!

At least my fortune cookie had a good fortune. Apparently my fondest dream is going to come true this year. This is a higher-priced fortune cookie, so I'm presuming a higher-priced soothsayer. And you get what you pay for, right?

Orange chicken excluded.

QUESTION OF THE DAY: Creepy? Or No?

2009-02-20T18:11:00.001-08:00

And before you answer, you should know that those birds are FAKE. Giant. Fake. Birds. On a Billboard.

For the record, yes, the first time I saw this thing, I thought they were real.

It's funny because it's TRUE.

2009-02-19T16:04:00.000-08:00

This makes me laugh out loud. Really loud.

Chick Lit Cliche # 483208: Weight Loss

2009-02-12T14:53:00.001-08:00

What's more of a chick-lit cliche than weight loss? Well, okay, probably a lot of things, but weight loss is a pretty big one. Good in Bed? The Cinderella Pact? (Both great books, by the way.) To catch you up, I got pretty big in college, to the point of some kind family members asking if I would go to Weight Watchers if they paid for it. Ironically, this proposition was made at a Mexican food restaurant as I was downing a large chile relleno. But, in the end, I joined. And though I was a slow starter, I started losing weight. I was really bad about going to meetings -- I just didn't really enjoy myself. But I remember stepping on the scale one day to discover that I'd lost fifteen pounds without realizing it. I was hooked at that point. I had started Weight Watchers at 175 pounds and eventually got down to 129 pounds a year later. And, not to sound full of myself or anything, but damn I was hot. Here's a bit of a comparison:

This is me in 2000. I'm not sure exactly how much I weighed, but I'm going to guess this was right around 180 pounds. Then again, this was also before my breast reduction surgery, so I looked heavier than I really was. Nevertheless, I never want to look like this again.

These next two pictures are from my sister Stephanie's wedding in January 2003. I'm on the far left in the first picture, and just to the left of the bride in the second.

And now, here I am at what I consider my "hottest ever." See, once I lost all that weight, a metaphorical weight was lifted, too. I moved to Los Angeles during the initial stages of Weight Watchers, but I have to say that losing that weight worked in my favor. I came out of my shell. I actually felt pretty, and for the first time in my adult life, entertained the thought that other people might think that, too. It was an incredibly exciting time.

Since that victorious moment of discovering that I had broken the 130-pound barrier in 2004, I've managed to slowly put on 25 pounds. It has killed me. I'm finding myself reverting back to the person I was when I weighed 170+. You can bet that I very rarely even think that other people think I'm pretty or hot. And I hate shopping -- though that shouldn't be surprising. When I was dropping a size every time I stepped in a dressing room, it was fun. Now, it's going the other way and it has to stop.

It will.

A little over a month ago, people in my office decided to do our own Biggest Loser competition. I have lost a few pounds, but it's not nearly what I wanted to do. I've just taken up running about two weeks ago (and enjoying it!) and today decided to really and truly go back on WW. (I say "really and truly" because I've said it in the past and that's lasted all of two days.) Money is a bit tight at the moment, so my WW is primarly self-regulated. I have the point books and calculator and, as much as I loathe it, will be food journaling.

I have a Texas wedding to go to next month. My own thirtieth birthday in April. An East Coast bar mitzvah in May. Do I think I'll be where I want to be even by May? No, but even a little bit will help. And, who knows, maybe I'll surprise myself.

This is your life (for sale).

2008-08-04T15:08:00.000-07:00

Over the past week, I've taken calls from my parents in Midland and San Angelo with regards to items of mine in their storage spaces. The Midlanders are discontinuing their storage unit and moving things to the house. The San Angeloans are having a garage sale next week. I just find the items in question really funny.

In Midland is a crib, a changing table, and a high chair -- all of which I used as a baby and, let's be honest, figured I would have used for my own children by now. But that hasn't happened, and I haven't the heart to sell them. I've convinced the Angeloans to take them. Thank goodness! If they hadn't, I'd have to find a place for them here, and that could be problematic given that our landlord has taken to PADLOCKING the garage and, not that I expect to have anyone in my bedroom, but I suspect that seeing a crib and changing table might prove to be a little scary.

In San Angelo, it is the comforter set my grandparents bought me when I turned 1, my softball bat, a shower caddy, and the dry-erase board that hung on my dorm-room door. (RIP, Gaston Hall.) The dry-erase board still reads, "DAYS UNTIL AMANDA GRADUATES: 0" and includes an invitation to the other girls on my floor to come over and watch C.S.I. The episode, in case you're wondering, was "Chasing the Bus." The shower caddy I could care less about. The comforter is non-negotiable, as it's another one of those things I've always envisioned passing down to my own daughter. The bat I'm willing to sell, but not without a moment of hesitation. We bought that bat a week or so after one of those games that I will never forget...

My team had a double-header that day in the city tournament. I went 0-for-whatever in the first game, so frustrated that I was in tears. A coach from another team came and sat with me, calmed me down, and encouraged me. The second game, I went on a hitting street. I remember the rush of confidence that came over me as I sprinted to first base, just as I remember turning to the stands once I got there to see that coach sitting there with his thumbs up.

Memories or not, I haven't played softball in years. I suspect that somewhere in those boxes, they'll find the glove I inherited from my stepdad, along with my batting glove. The bat is going for $0.25. A bargain at twice the price, I must say.

The Dream

2008-07-23T00:11:00.000-07:00

I dreamed of my daughter on my mother's birthday.

Four years old. Red plaid dress. Patent Mary-Janes with socks trimmed with lace on the cuffs. Caramel-colored pigtails. Asleep on my shoulder as I carried her from place to place.

Susie.

People I met thought that I was my mother. They thought that Susie was me.

And she was beautiful. Oh was she beautiful.

12 Pictures of My Day

2008-05-13T13:56:00.000-07:00

So, every month Chad does a photo essay-type thing called 12 of 12. And, every month, I attempt to participate. I'm thwarted more often than not. Either my camera battery runs out or I am so busy at work (which, ironically, would make a great 12 of 12, no?) and completely forget about anything other than meticulously entering my boss's Outlook contacts. This month, however, I made it to 12...

12:06 a.m. - "Let's just say I want to believe."

The official 'teaser' trailer for the new X-Files movie (The X-Files: I Want to Believe) premiered at midnight on Monday. Or, rather, it was supposed to. The official site crashed, so I had to do some hunting. I eventually found it on IGN and watched with rapt attention...everything I had already seen in the trailer they showed at Paley. I'm still excited about the movie, but wished I had gone to bed after Brothers and Sisters ended, after all. Oh well! Is it July 25 yet?

9:25 a.m. - The wheels on the bus go round and round... Can you make them go any faster?

I'd like to say that I was taking the bus because I am just. that. committed. to reducing my carbon footprint. But, in all honesty, I am taking the bus because my car is in the shop for repairs. Not that I don't care about Mother Earth or anything...just that I wish L.A. had a public transportation system along the lines of New York. Case in point: Metro Rapid 704 to West L.A. I waited over 30 minutes in the rain for the bus in Silver Lake. Oh, how I love my neighborhood, though.

10:13 a.m. - Crossing Santa Monica Boulevard.

As long as it took for the bus to pick me up, it didn't take too horribly long to actually get to my destination in Century City. In this picture, I'm crossing Santa Monica and heading toward my office building, which you unfortunately can't see in the pic. I was really surprised at how busy the bus was yesterday morning. The driver had to deny entrance to some people because of overoccupancy. While on the bus this morning (Tuesday), I heard a news report about how traffic is decreasing and it's suspected that more people are taking public transportation. (Though I wonder if it's really just an advertisement.)

11:43 a.m. - Notes, notes, and more notes.

The head of my department gave me a book to read. I read it. Mostly. And gave notes on it. End of story.

12:52 p.m. - Reports, reports, and more reports.

Every Monday, we have a departmental lunch meeting. This particular Monday, we ordered in food from Factor's Famous Deli (I had a BBQ chicken salad...yum!). I'm distributing my monthly report on projects we have in production and in development.

3:06 p.m. - I feel. Like Hell.

I really hope I'm not getting sick. I really hope the horrible, horrible sore throat is just allergy-related. But combined with fatigue and achiness, things do not look good. Luckily, I had (a) Fluffy Cow to lean on, (2) Advil, and (3) a small piece of chocolate. They helped a little bit.

5:52 p.m. - Punching holes.

I really like my electric three-hole puncher -- especially on days where I've got eight scripts, four call sheets, and numerous reports to "punch." The head of marketing came in the other day and told me that from the hall, the machine sounded like someone blowing their nose. Good to know!

7:02 p.m. - At The Cellar Restaurant with my friends Kara and Kyle.

I love coming to this restaurant. Most of the time, we sit outside. However, with the general poopiness of the weather in the 310 yesterday, it was wiser to move our party indoors. I love the kitsch factor, including these Vanity Fair pictures.

9:23 p.m. - And then he had a hook...

Our favorite Irish pub in L.A. -- O'Brien's -- hosts pub trivia on Monday nights from 9 p.m. through 11 p.m. Because I wasn't feeling good, I was in the mood for a shepherd's pie -- sans the meat. (I really should just order the potatoes and carrots.) Kyle finished it off for me -- and hammed for the camera with his beer cider. At this point in the game, things are fan-tas-tic.

10:59 p.m. - Well, that sucked.

We were in first place. Alone. And then the final bonus question came around and we got it wrong. As a result, we did not win. We did not qualify for the tournament. We were bummed. It was a good round of trivia for us, though. And there's always next week...

11:39 p.m. - I've got the shower!

That was supposed to be sung a la 'I've got the power!' Boo. Hiss. I know. I like my pretty bathroom, though!

11:54 p.m. - It begins where it ends...

Time to go to sleep. Man, just looking at this picture makes me want to go home RIGHT NOW and go back to bed. My cozy, cozy room.

Lemons and melons and pears. Oh my!

2007-12-05T23:44:00.000-08:00

My mom and aunt were in town this weekend, and as tradition with the post-Thanksgiving visit goes, one of us had to be sick. This year, it was my turn. I was definitely more than a little green around the gills -- so much so that we nearly canceled our trip to see Wicked at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood. And the mere thought of doing so is unacceptable.

UNACCEPTABLE.

I saw Wicked for the first time back on Halloween. (See the picture above.) While I definitely enjoyed the show, it wasn't until I started listening to the soundtrack that I became hooked. Knowing that my mother loves Phantom of the Opera, I decided that we should go when she and Kelli visited in December. The show was sold out, but luckily I know someone who knows someone who knows someone and we were able to buy tickets anyway.

We were on the seventh row on the floor this time. I can't even describe the feeling of sitting there watching these people sing their hearts out. By the middle of the first verse of "The Wizard and I," I had tears on my cheeks. Don't get me started on the flying. Or "As Long as You're Mine" (hoooottttt). Or "For Good." (There were some real tears going on there.) The show is beautiful and technologically amazing, but I think what had me going back -- and has me wanting to go back again -- is its ability to make you feel. It's the friendships and the blissful naivete of young adulthood. It's that blissful naivete crashing to the ground. It's that realization that someone actually loves you -- and accepting the fact that you are actually worthy of that love...

Eden Espinosa and Megan Hilty (and Emily Rozek, who we saw in the performance this past weekend) make you feel every moment of that. Eden is just phenomenal as Elphaba -- her voice gives me chills just thinking about it. There are several YouTube clips that I could link to for evidence, but the sound quality doesn't do her justice.

If you live in Los Angeles (or will be visiting) in the next few months, make sure to get tickets and see the show. As of right now, it's set to close in early May 2008, but based on the fact that it's still selling out nearly a year later, I wouldn't be surprised to see the engagement extended. Eden's last show is December 30, so if you get a chance to see it before the end of the year, you should.

(And if you want to buy me a ticket, I'll go with you! Ha!)

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

2007-11-27T00:35:00.000-08:00

You guys, I can't even begin to describe how excited I am about the next few weeks. Okay, so I'm a little broke and trying to figure out the whole buying-presents thing, but that cannot detract from the glory that is my mom and aunt visiting this weekend. There will be Wicked-viewage at the Pantages (where I can pretend that I am living in yesteryear) and Disneyland-go-age and just general family-ness.

I can't believe Christmas is coming up so quickly. Things are about to die down at work, though if the strike ends (ohpleaseohplease), all bets are off. People will be pitching like there's no tomorrow. Chaos will reign in Century City. Before I know it, I'll be sitting in the back seat of my parents' Four Runner in Midland, falling asleep as we drive through Grasslands looking at Christmas lights. And I'll be eating at Franco's and getting a massage at The Waterford and eating at Ichiban and and and hanging with my family and my cat.

I'm really excited about the new year, though. I'm fairly hopeful that the strike will be over by then and that maybe -- just maybe -- something will come of the resumes that I submitted. Not that I don't love my job -- I do -- but I just feel like the time is right to make the leap.

We shall see.

(And this post was totally pointless. I need to sleep.)

Things that are annoying Amanda Mason.

2007-09-18T14:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, so these mainly fall into the realm of advertising, but whatever...

These Bebe ads drive me nuts. In what universe does Bebe think showing stick figures in sub-zero-sized clothing sells said clothing? Yes, I just realized how stupid that question was. Anyway, I am subjected to these ads every morning once I cross Highland and get into Grove and Beverly Center territory. There's a big friggin' Bebe billboard on the Beverly Center at Beverly and La Cienega. On one hand, though, at least the Mischa Barton Reign of Terror is over.

This ad campaign is classy. I might even go so far as to say "klassy-with-a-k." I freaking hate that expression, but I'm willing to bring it back for Mr. Woodcock. The title -- really? And then I have to see Billy Bob Thornton (who I only liked in Armageddon and Friday Night Lights (but Kyle Chandler is better)) standing with two basketballs like that? Ew.

Speaking of Klassy advertising, I give you Big Shots. Easily one of the worst pilots I've ever seen, by the way -- and I really, really wanted to like it. But that's not what's annoying me. "How long can they keep it up?" Ew. The country club in the show is called Firmwood. What is with this town's obsession with genitalia? I have a degree in P.R. I took Dr. Johnson's Advertising class at Tech. I know that sex sells, but I don't really find myself particularly drawn to this (or the afore-mentioned Mr. Woodcock). Maybe I'm just a freak of nature.

My brain says "buzz."

2007-08-08T16:30:00.000-07:00

Do you ever feel like you have white noise in your brain? That's how I feel lately. I hate it. White noise in my brain and butterflies in my tummy. I just want to relax and feel normal again.

That's not to say that I'm feeling bad. At least not all the time. Things are going pretty well for me of late. Work is going amazingly well. My bosses are fantastic (seriously...I am SO BLESSED) and I feel like I'm making a contribution to the company. It's nice to feel appreciated. If people like the evil gynecologist I used to work for would realize that they would get more productivity out of employees by actually saying nice things to them, we'd have a pretty productive society. Well, that and if we initiated mandatory siesta. Ha!

There's part of me that wants to go to graduate school, but I haven't the foggiest idea what I'd major in. I just miss learning. So, I think I'm going to take a couple of classes this fall -- one to replace a sub-par grade from my undergrad, and one that might be helpful with my current career. (The "current career" one is eligible for tuition reimbursement, too, so yay!)

In other news, I tried out Yahoo! Personals and eHarmony. Eh. I canceled both memberships. They were too nervewracking and just... I met one nice guy, but I'm not really interested in pursuing anything romantic with him. The whole online dating thing just feels so inorganic. And IRL, the guys I like never seem to like me back (or they don't say anything if they do). If this means I'm single for the rest of my life, I guess that's what this means. Heck, I already have a cat living on my back deck -- just start calling me the Crazy Cat Lady!

And I'm trying to be at peace about that. Really.

Sigh. I really am a chick-lit cliche.

Dear Me...

2007-07-08T15:45:00.001-07:00

Some friends of mine have been participating in a journaling tool in which they write ten things they'd tell the 16-Year-Old version of themselves. I wasn't exactly motivated to participate, but a friend of mine from high school was in L.A. for a day this past week, and our visit got me to thinking. Some of the things are serious and some are funny, but without further adieu, I present "Conversations With a Sixteen-Year-Old Amanda"...

(For ease of reading, 28-year-old Amanda will be identified as 28, while 16-year-old Amanda will be identified as -- you guessed it -- 16.)

28: Hey Amanda, you know that guy from high school that you like? The one who gives you the tummy butterflies whenever he pays attention to you or rests his arm on the pew behind you in church?
16: Oh yeah, Jimmy*? He's so cute and nice and --
28: -- and you need to just forget about him. It's never going to happen.
16: Just because you're the version of me twelve years in the future doesn't mean anything!
28: ...
16: Nana says that one of these days all of the boys in high school who like the cheerleader girls are going to want the nice girls. I'm a nice girl.
28: Sweetie, please. Save yourself the heartbreak and embarassment. Don't buy him a birthday present.
16: But --
28: -- But nothing. Go home. Watch As the World Turns. Mike and Rosanna are SO CUTE. And make sure you label the tape properly so that you can find their whole Montana adventure later on in life when you need a pick-me-up.
16: Oooookay...
28: Oh, and one more thing... In about 8 years, you're going to meet this other guy in a book store. Ignore him. When Katy asks you to go and look at horse books, politely tell the guy goodbye before you fall for him.
16: I'm gonna meet a guy in a bookstore?
28: Yeah. And you're going to be walking on air for weeks until you realize that it's the same situation with Jimmy. You're "that girl." And that is not a fun thing to be. Okay?
16: 'Kay. So if you're here from the future, can you tell me if Ross and Rachel end up together?
28: All in good time, my love. All in good time.

28: Don't give Brian a ride home from that scrimmage.
16: What scrimmage?
28: The Lake View vs. Central one. Senior year.
16: LAKE VIEW AND CENTRAL ARE ACTUALLY GOING TO PLAY ONE ANOTHER?!?! Who wins??
28: It's a SCRIMMAGE, not a game. I don't remember who won -- I think it was a tie. But that's not the point... There's going to be this guy who in a fantastic display of chivalry will save you from being run over by a play. Later on that night, he's going to ask you for a ride home. Don't do it. Get in Marlena and head home to 24th Street.
16: A guy actually gets chivalrous about me?
28: Yes. And that's the only time. Trust me. Do not go home with him. You will save yourself a weekend of tears. You won't scare your mother to death. And there won't be any need for you to hide from him at school or screen your phone calls.
16: What happened?
28: Forgive me if I don't want to talk about it. But taking him home could potentially ruin your life. It will save you years of therapy and anxiety.
16: I don't get it.
28: You will. In time.

28: Tell everyone you love that you love them. One day very soon one of them will be gone and it will be one of your biggest regrets that you didn't tell them that enough.
16: Who dies?
28: I can't tell you that.
16: Why not? If you tell me, I'll tell that person all the time how much they mean to me. I promise.
28: I can't tell you. I'm sorry.
16: Can you tell me...when?
28: Um, I guess. Round about the start of your junior year of high school. That's all I can say.
16: ...
28: It'll be okay. I promise. Do me a favor...
16: What?
28: Give Big Kitty a kiss for me.
16: Okay.

28: I know church may seem boring and overly hellfire-and-brimstone at times, but pay attention. Soak it in.
16: But, the pastor is so negative lately. It's much more fun to flirt with --
28: -- Ahem. We've discussed this.
16: Alright, but did you know that I learned what 69 meant last week?
28: And this has to do with church how? Ooooooh --
16: Eric* taught me. On a bulletin.
28: I certainly hope you destroyed that bulletin.
16: It was his. I don't know what he did with it.
28: Oy.

28: Spend some time with Daisy dog. Promise me.
16: Well, I go out and feed her when it's my turn.
28: That doesn't exactly count.
16: I don't have the time.
28: Don't give me that crap. I was your age once. Actually, I was YOU once. Actually I still am you, but WHATEVER. How about taking some of that time you spend chatting about As the World Turns on AOL and spending some time with the dog you've had since you were six?!
16: Man, I turned into a b-word!
28: Just do it for goodness sakes... She loves you. Even though there've been times you haven't given her reason to.
16: I know...

28: One day very soon, those braces are going to come off.
16: HALLELUJIAH!!
28: And Doug L. is going to tell you you look pretty.
16: Really??
28: Yep.
16: I can't wait!
28: Just keep an eye on your retainer. When Mrs. Lowe passes out candy during the beginning of pre-cal class your junior year, don't be so brilliant as to wrap your retainer in the wrapper. You'll accidentally throw it away. And mama is going to be PISSED. (Yes, I said the word "pissed," wipe the shock off your face.) And she's going to make you dig through the trash can in pre-cal.
16: No taking out of the retainer. Good to know.

28: Go to prom. Even if you don't have a date.
16: But it's lame to go to prom without a date.
28: No it's not. Katy's going to go without a date.
16: Don't talk to me about her. She's such a freaking slob. Yesterday, she yelled at me for putting her stuff into "piles" in our room --
28: Hey, lay off. One of these days, she's going to be your best friend. But anyway, go to prom. Use that as an excuse to make Mom, Craig, Dad, and Nancy buy you a pretty dress. Use it as an excuse to let Shari do your makeup. Use it as an excuses to let Gayla do your hair all pretty. And for goodness sakes, use it as an excuse to get your first pedicure. Trust me when I tell you that they are HEAVENLY.
16: But what if I don't have a date?
28: You know what? Sometimes you are just a little too much of a follow-the-rules goodie-two-shoes.
16: Bite me. Or you. Or whatever.

28: Don't cry over the cancelation of 'My So-Called Life.'
16: I can't help it. It was such a good show. Jordan Catalano is so hot.
28: Jordan Catalano was a dick. What did I say about the shock face?? It's not like I've turned into a potty mouth, I just don't cringe when I cuss on occasion.
16: Oh he was not. Through it all, he loved Angela.
28: (laughing my butt off)
16: WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT??
28: Love. IN HIGH SCHOOL.
16: Apparently, I become a cynic, too. There is such a thing, you know. Mom and I think I'm going to live at home until I get married. I'm a nice girl and I don't think it'll be too long.
28: Yeah, whatever. That's a whole 'nother story that I don't really feel like getting into. But anyway, they're going to release My So-Called Life on DVD.
16: DVD?
28: Trust me, they are AWESOME. They're like this CD that you can watch movies on. They'll have the entire season of the show out. And besides, the people who created that show will eventually create another show that you are just going to love. You are going to relate to it and it will make you cry and miss, well, being you. And by you I mean the 16-year-old me.
16: What show is it?
28: Can't tell you. For, uh, copyright reasons? But, yeah, there's this popular book out about football...
16: "Friday Night Lights." It's about Permian. I hate MOJO.
28: Lalallalalalala...

28: Hug Mom and Craig and Dad and Nancy and EVERYONE. As much as possible.
16: I already do hug people a lot.
28: Do it even more. And don't get all butt-hurt when Craig calls you "Mama's Little Tit." He's just teasing you out of love.
16: Whatever.
28: At least do the hugging. There'll come a point where you're living a long way away from home and all you want is a hug and you can't get one without riding for three hours on a plane.
16: You mean I'm not going to live at home until I get married?? Or wait -- what if I'm married and we're living a long way away?! I bet it's New York. I AM SO MOVING TO NEW YORK!! --
28: We're not discussing this. And no I'm not going to tell you where you're going to live. You have to figure that out yourself. Just love your parents and your family. Every chance you get. Do you have a kleenex? I think I need a moment...

28: Watch what you eat for lunch.
16: I'M NOT FAT.
28: Well now you're not. Not really, anyway. Just trust me when I tell you that it's not exactly a good idea to have Town & Country for lunch on Monday, Sonic on Tuesday, Taco Bell on Wednesday, Long John Silver on Thursday, and Franco's on Friday.
16: But that's the point of having off-campus lunch privileges!
28: No, it's really not. Go home and eat leftovers or something. And don't drink too many cokes.
16: I think you need to shut up now.
28: Don't talk to me like that. Just listen. Just wait until Steph gets married and you feel like a whale in your bridesmaid dress.
16: Steph gets married??? When???
28: Forget I said that, but let me just... Fine. I'll show you the picture. Let's just hope there's no freaky Back to the Future thing going on and I start missing body parts. Here. That's you on the left.
16: ...
28: Are you okay?
16: Yeah, I, uh... I get it.
28: Good. And I thank you for at least getting it.

28: One last thing --
16: -- Nuh uh! The rules were only ten things --
28: Oh SHUT UP. I am older than you. And I know your dreams and I can and will crush them at will, okay?? Okay, maybe that's not a good idea, but whatever. CREDIT CARDS ARE THE DEVIL. Say it with me.
16: I'm not saying that.
28: Yes you are. Unless you really want to be paying off credit cards in your mid-twenties when you could be, I don't know, vacationing somewhere AWESOME. It sucks. So, SAY IT!
16: Fine. Credit cards are the devil.
28: Just be responsible with them and it will all be okay. 'Kay?
16: 'Kay.
28: Just keep being nice, okay? Be nice. Be loving. And enjoy life. Enjoy the little things. Scratch Big Kitty's ears. Take Daisy for a walk. Help Mom with dinner. Watch football with Craig. Don't yell at Katy. Well, don't yell at Katy too much. Talk to Dad and Nancy on the phone often. Give MawMaw a kiss. Listen to Poppy recite your poem with a smile. Just...enjoy it. Cherish it. Remember it all.
16: You sound like a Nora Ephron movie.
28: Really?? Thanks. That's really sweet. You'll understand why when you're my age. Or your age, considering I'm you and all. Oh whatever. Can we watch Friends now?

* Names changed to protect the innocent. The not-so-innocent? I didn't care enough to disguise your name. Punk.

Why do I love country music?

2007-06-30T21:48:00.000-07:00

I could just cut to the chase and say, "Because I just do." But there has to be some obvious reason that my car stereo has been tuned to the local country station more often than not these days.

Perhaps the biggest reason is that, to me, country music is representative of home. I can be listening to a song, stuck in traffic on the 405, but my mind will be in the front seat of a minivan after having picked my little brother up at baseball practice. Or sitting in the back seat, my Bible in my lap, on the way to church on Sunday morning. (My eyes are always on the road -- so do not fret, dear L.A. drivers.)

The songs are about the simple life, a life I don't feel I can truly live out here. I see my mom in the kitchen in a pair of sweats and the house shoes we bought her the previous Christmas. Or I see my dad on the couch, dozing his way through part of the Sunday afternoon football game. (Food coma!!) I'm in my brother's pickup, blasting Randy Rogers as we navigate Loop 289 in Lubbock. Or setting the table for dinner, making sure the paper napkins are folded symmetrically underneath the silverware. I'm rocking in the wooden rocker in the living room with my cat in my lap. Or sitting down to a piece of pie and a game of canasta with my grandparents.

Country music makes me realize how I want to be loved -- how much I want to be loved. It makes me realize how much I want to love in return. How much I want to have a go at being half the mother my mama and stepmom are.

Country reminds me of everything I have, which is especially important during the times when I'm lamenting my have-nots. It reminds me that I'm blessed. To have such an amazing and loving family. To have such strong and true friends. To have a roof over my head. Something to eat in the fridge.

Country takes me home, even when I can't go myself. So tonight I sit here in the rocker in my L.A. bedroom and listen to a country song. Mentally, I drive down Oakes and then 19th and then Armstrong until I get where I'm going.

Until I get back home.

** (Note...this is not to disparage L.A. or anything -- sometimes I just get a little homesick.)

Baby, don't you cry, gonna make a pie, all my love for you in the middle of my heart.

2007-06-24T23:08:00.000-07:00

I saw the absolute sweetest movie in forever this afternoon. And it only set me back $3! Or, well, Allison -- note to self, pay her back tomorrow night. I can't even describe it. The movie got to me so much that I couldn't figure out what to say about it on the drive home. Just an all out good movie. And I have such a soft spot for Andy Griffith. His character reminds me of my friend Dr. Scott. (Except Dr. Scott is a bit less crotchity.)

It's a travesty that there's no soundtrack released for the movie. I've taken to downloading the most recent album from Quincy Coleman on iTunes. She did a couple of songs in the movie. I'm glad I did -- this album is fantastic. Also, this movie is sadly not showing anywhere around my family, so they won't get to see it. If it's already at the cheapie theatre here, I doubt it'll even hit the first-runs in West Texas. But that means it won't be long until it's on DVD.

(And for anyone trying to figure out what to get me for Christmas -- HEY in 45 minutes it will only be six months away! -- this is a great idea.)

On another note, I may be going to visit my sister in Maryland this weekend. How's that for a last minute trip? She's working on a farm near Hagerstown, so I might just hop on a JetBlue flight to D.C. and spend a couple of days hanging out with her and riding horses and innertubing down the Shenandoah. If I can come up with the moola, that is.

But back to Waitress. I think one of the things that really got me about this movie is that that is the kind of story I want to tell. And it made me seriously think about my pilot idea and how it could really work as that kind of feature. (Minus a couple of storylines, that is.) Or not. We'll see how it goes.

Have a great week, everyone!

Hey there, Cupcake!

2007-06-20T16:05:00.000-07:00

Today, I threw two pennies in a fountain. Just because. It was a beautiful day here in Los Angeles and I was on my way to Clementine to pick up my salad. I walked down the sidewalk, my little kitten heels clicking as I went. Rosie Thomas provided a sort of soundtrack on my fifteen minute walk, and I found myself smiling. Sighing and smiling and looking up at the palm trees and blue skies and buildings towering up above. I can't even begin to remember the last time that happened.

I don't know if it's necessarily because I'm happy here in this place in my life, but I couldn't help but appreciate that blue sky and that pretty music and the pretty blue fountain I dropped two pennies in. So I smiled and I sighed and I clutched my big bag closer under my arm as I crossed Santa Monica Boulevard.

At the fountain, a man smiled at me and asked if I made a wish. I kind of did, I guess, but I really didn't know what to wish for. It was more like a wish for "good things." I'm kind of like one of the main characters in the script I'm working on (yay original material!) -- sometimes I just want God to make my decision for me. What would my good things include?

A trip home over my five-day weekend for 4th of July, but that's not happening because tickets are too expensive. A call from the producer I met a month or so ago at the Museum of Television and Radio. My first baking order. Something other than ambivalence from the opposite sex. (That's a post in and of itself!)

I had a really good weekend. My mom and stepdad came to L.A. for their anniversary and for Father's Day. We spent the entire weekend at Disneyland -- even stayed at the resort. I don't know whether it's because I was with my family (where I am traditionally more "myself"), or the fact that I've been on medication on a regular schedule, or the therapy I've been in, but I felt like a normal functioning human being for 95% of the trip. It was really a relief. I love my family so much and it's always so hard to let them go at the airport. If I moved home, it would totally be all about being closer to my family.

And on that note, the script I was just printing at work finished. Three-hole-punch and brass brads, here I come!

My name is Mickey.

2007-05-29T14:32:00.001-07:00

Anyone who really knows me knows that I've recently been suffering from severe anxiety issues and mild-to-severe depression. Going to sleep at night and having a restful night's sleep is often difficult. Last night, however, I had a truly amazing experience.

When I was a senior in college, I was convinced that a ghost lived in my dorm room. He or she was always benevolent and I only sensed him or her at night. I'd be lying in my bed and I would feel the sensation of someone sitting gently at the foot of my bed. I don't know how to describe it -- the covers would move a certain way and the mattress would dip slightly. Wow. I haven't really thought about my Gaston ghost in a very long time...

Last night before I went to bed, I prayed and asked God for a good night's sleep. I asked Him for peace and for patience. I asked Him for a sign that I'm still supposed to be in Los Angeles, and not near the family I miss so dearly. Shortly after I climbed into bed -- calm as can be -- I felt the familiar dipping of my mattress and shifting of my sheets. And at that moment, I was overcome with thoughts and memories of my Poppy -- things he would say to me. I knew it then -- my ghost was none other than my Poppy. I couldn't see him -- oh how I wanted to -- but I knew he was there. I cried and I cried and I cried and I could hear his voice in my head telling me that it would be okay. I was taken back to sitting in his lap in his recliner, and the way he smelled like cigarettes and Brut aftershave. I remembered "Gilly! Gilly! Gilly!" and how he used to tease me about how when I got my drivers license, I'd break down somewhere between San Angelo and Abilene and have to call him to come and pick me up. And, most of all, I remembered "Mickey's Lament," the poem he wrote for me when I was a baby -- one of the last things I ever remember him saying to me before he was put in the hospital all those years ago. That was the most comforting thing of all.

He was there. And then other people stopped by, too, but only briefly to wave. My Uncle Billy and my friend Betty Fuller. She said, "Hi, Amanda Mouse." Again, it's not like I could see them with my eyes -- my heart and my brain just knew they were there. All I know is that I'm not really that interested in dying at the moment, but I can't wait to get to Heaven.

But yeah... Now I have to wonder... Was my Gaston ghost really my Poppy coming to sit with me on some of those tough nights? Who knows...

A parent's love. Denny's style.

2007-05-27T23:53:00.000-07:00

I've spent a lot of time recently being introspective. Actually, I've spent a lot of time recently over-thinking things and freaking myself out to the point of an anxiety problem. One of the things I've thought about is if I'll ever have children. I've also worried that if I have children, I'll be a horrible mother. Lately, kids have just gotten on my nerves. There's a reason I actively avoid Target on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. There's a reason I call Target "Birth Control Central."

Despite the protests from my friends and family that it's "different" when the kid is yours, or the fact that the minute the child emerges from your womb, a love like no other overtakes you, I worry about it. Because worrying is my M.O. these days. Tonight, however, I think I got a lesson. God knew what I needed to see and He showed it to me.

My parents divorced when I was six years old. There are moments that I remember very clearly about this time of my life -- I remember the feel of their bedsheets when they broke the news to my brother, sister, and me. I remember the Mickey Mouse bubble gum dispenser my grandparents bought us to make us feel better. And I remember the absolute despair I felt whenever I was separated from my mother. (My father got custody of us.) I loved my daddy to death, but I couldn't bear being separated from my mama. I remember one particular Christmas when my mom and stepdad came to watch me sing a solo in the Christmas pageant at church. For some reason, they started to leave before I felt that I had had an adequate goodbye. As that old Chevy Malibu crossed the parking lot to leave, I remember sobbing and running as fast as my legs could carry me so that they would stop.

I remember being the child of divorce and it is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. That's not to say that I regret anything that happened -- my life is truly wonderful now. But the hurt in my heart that came whenever my mom dropped us off -- or vice versa once I moved to San Angelo and started visiting my dad -- was truly killer (and still is).

Fast forward to tonight. My roommate Allison, our friend Lauren, and I went to San Diego for the afternoon. We crossed over into Tijuana for a few minutes, and then stopped at Mission Beach before heading back to Los Angeles. Exhausted and hungry, we stopped at a Denny's in Carlsbad. It was dark and depressing and there were crying children, which only made me want to cry because I was getting pretty tired and cranky myself. Once our food was served, a young couple and their little boy entered. The boy looked to be around four years old. I heard the mother urge him to be in a better mood "for Daddy," who apparently had not yet arrived. I figured it out -- this was either a simple visit for "Daddy" or it was an "exchange" for visitation.

A few minutes later, I see the child's face light up. He has seen his Daddy in the parking lot. He works to free himself of the high chair he was in and his mother walks him to the front door before returning by herself. In walks this man -- the epitome of "toughness" with his arms covered in tattoos and a beard and earrings -- carrying his child in what was one of the most beautiful displays of parent-child love I have ever seen. The once-semi-rowdy child had his face buried in his dad's neck, while the father held his child close, his eyes closed in the simple relief and joy of having the boy in his arms.

I've been that little boy, but I've never seen what it must have been like to be my Daddy or my Mama. It was a surreal experience to say the least, and even a few hours later, it still makes me want to cry. When we left, the little boy was still sitting quietly in his father's lap. I'm not sure whether he left with his dad or whether he went back with his mom, but I'm glad I wasn't there to find out. Because if it involved leaving his daddy again, I wouldn't have been able to watch without breaking down. That pain never goes away. It may get better and lessen over time, but it's nearly impossible not to relive it. (I can't watch a certain scene in Hope Floats for that very reason.)

On a happier note, I get to see my Daddy in five days!

You look ridiculous.

2007-04-19T10:50:00.000-07:00

I'm sure there's some deep psychological explanation for this, but I was humored to realize that when I go home, I always want to look as L.A. (translation: ridiculous) as possible. Big sunglasses, nice jeans, a big purse. When I come back to L.A., I'm always as "Texas" as possible. Jeans, a t-shirt/sweatshirt, sneakers. When I came back in March, I wore fuzzy flip-flops that my sister made for me -- and didn't bat an eyelash. Bizarre.

The funny thing is that I look more ridiculous than I do on a normal basis. I'm a non-hipster Silver Lake girl (whatever that really is). I'm a huge fan of my GAP jeans and Target workout britches. But I can't resist getting all gussied up for a plane ride. Now, the sunglasses thing? That won't exactly be necessary/possible anymore. San Angelo now has jetways at Mathis Field -- excuse me, San Angelo Regional Airport -- so I can't be all cool when I come down the little airplane steps. Or I can, but wearing sunglasses INDOORS would be taking the ridiculous a little too far. (And if I see you wearing sunglasses INDOORS in L.A., you can bet that I'm thinking about how stupid you look.)

It's probably a confidence thing or some attempt at defining myself to people. Who knows. It is what it is -- and trying to figure it out beyond that is giving me a headache. I think I'll just sit here and listen to Coldplay and sip on my hot chocolate.

Dancing.

2007-03-23T23:02:00.000-07:00

I've recently come to the realization that I never liked dances growing up.

There were multiple reasons, the main one being that nobody ever really danced at those things. And if they did, no one ever asked me. Perhaps that's why I took a shining to the line dancing craze, and even La Macarena -- no partner required. But from my very first dance during sixth period on the last day of sixth grade, I found out that school dances were never like they appeared on TV. Or on Back to the Future.

Watching the most recent episode of Friday Night Lights, I was reminded of one dance in particular. It was my second dance, held sometime just before seventh grade commenced. All of the incoming junior high schoolers (Midland was not on a middle school system) were invited to a dance at the Midland High School Youth Center to celebrate and get to know one another. This was an early lesson on what junior high school was really like -- Hell.

I don't remember what I was wearing that night. I do remember what other people wore -- probably because, as a wallflower, I had ample time to observe and absorb. The predominant outfit for girls was a pair of plaid "dress shorts" over tights with either loafers or Mary-Janes. I felt so uncool, especially since my sixth grade girlfriends didn't greet with me as much enthusiasm as I had expected. I distinctly remember being ignored for the better part of the first hour I was there, which is probably an overdramatized version of what really happened considering that everything is dramatic when you're 13-years-old. I remember standing in the phone booth crying, trying to hear my parents over the strains of whatever M.C. Hammer song was popular at the time.

My daddy came to pick me up in his blue and silver Chevy truck. We drove out to the Kettle on Wall Street and talked over Cokes and a plate of french fries. I remember a lot of tears. I remember him telling me that I was beautiful and that I looked like my mama. I remember feeling so safe. I didn't need those stupid freckle-faced girls back at the youth center -- at least for the hour we sat in that coffee shop booth.

Sadly, I can't just call my dad to pick me up anymore. Living so far away makes it difficult for me to just drop by his office and lounge on his cool pleather loveseat while he runs joke after cheesy joke by me. (Where in the Bible was a car first referenced? "They all came in one Accord.") But I can still call him and he can pretty much talk me down about anything. Whether it's on my most homesick of days when all I want to do is pack my car and head east, or whether it's more of the same "why don't the boys like me?" stuff from junior high, Dad's got my number. I'm blessed.

(And for the record, I still don't like dances.)

Why no, I'm not involved in film, television or media.

2007-03-21T22:08:00.000-07:00

And no, I don't know anyone who works in media research. At all.

So, tonight I was invited to a screening of the upcoming rom-com License to Wed. It was really pretty freaking adorable. Okay, so maybe the ending was a wee bit over the top, but NOT BAD. I learned two things tonight:

(1) I need a cute guy a la Ben in the movie.
(2) I need to make a million zillion dollars so I can go to Anthropologie and buy Mandy Moore's wardrobe from the movie.

Okay, there's a possible third thing. I need to learn how to make my hair purdy. But purdy in that, "Oh this was a piece of cake! I just rolled out of bed and pulled my hair up and doesn't it look good with my perfect glowy skin?"

S.O.S.

2007-03-13T20:01:00.000-07:00

Am addicted to House. Stop. Please send help. Stop.

(Image borrowed from Wounded-Hearts.)

Insert witty blog subject line here.

2007-03-01T23:20:00.000-08:00

I am up 21 minutes past my bed time. I am a rebel...against myself.

So this afternoon, I up and done it -- I rejoined Weight Watchers. I'm doing the whole online thingy and I'm already whining. How in the hey hey am I supposed to keep it under 19 points in a day? Frickin' Cheerios and skim milk is 4 points in and of itself. I can do this. I just want my size 6's back. And as sick and twisted as it sounds, I miss seeing the outline of my sternum and my clavicles. Oh, and I miss the "glow" that I had, but I suspect that will only return with a regular exercise regimen. Note to self: FIND NEW NON-OUTRAGEOUSLY-EXPENSIVE-AND-SCENEY GYM TO JOIN.

In all seriousness, though, I'm determined to make this work -- to stop the madness, if you will. At least when I was "acting," I looked good all the time. I was obsessive about the gym and what I ate. And I did not have schoolteacher arms. Oh to be that messed up again.

In other news, is it just me or is buying eye cream depressing? Not only is it expensive, but it's to treat LINES AROUND MY EYES. I'm all crinkly anymore. But I do have to say that this All About Eyes Rich stuff is awesome. I think awesome is their secret ingredient. It's what makes it "rich."

Pay no attention to the cranky woman at the computer.

2007-02-13T13:35:00.000-08:00

12 of 12: A Photo Essay (February 2007)

A bakers dozen shots of my day yesterday. The bonus shot's theme is "love." Snaps to Chad Darnell for the idea.