Zebra

Up until tonight I thought I was such a Scrabble badass.   Maybe it was my 20% bingo record, or the 98% scoreboard.  Whatever -- I owned that bitch.  Then I started playing Scrabble Stephen Hawkings Edition.  I have barely hobbled through two hands and I've already lost once.  Apparently I underestimated my opponent, the iPhone.  My self-esteem is duly checked.

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Today is Day 1 of the Master Cleanse, (and Day 3 of a new Artist's Way sequel "Walk In This World" thingy I'm doing with my friends). I should note that I'm defying the advice of my friend and acupuncturist, Margaret, who supports a cleanse for me but  advises against the Master variety.   No hallucinating or coffee headaches yet, although I nearly clubbed my co-workers who (unknowingly) wouldn't stop talking about pie.

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I just watched a commercial in which a tampon was described as "cute."  Sorry.  I had to share.  It was just too weird.

The Art of Being Me

Dre's back!  For the last 7 weeks, she's been living la dolce vita in South America.  During that time I took it upon myself to cook.  A lot.  Mostly because I knew that the kitchen would always be clean.  But whatever.  So tonight, in honor of her return, we cooked together.  *Dink.*  I had these grand plans of making a butternut squash and apple salad, which then turned into plans for butternut squash and apple soup when I realized the salad would take an hour to make, which then turned into curried rice and vegetables (my standby) when we started drinking my new favorite beer, Hitachino.  It was good.  And now we're watching previous episodes of The Bachelor since Dre hasn't seen this season.  And since I have?  Well, I am the consummate spoiler.  Mwah ha ha.

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For Lent I gave up swearing.  I'm doing a horrible job.   Uh oh.  At least I"m trying.

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This is Week 6 of the Artist's Way, also known as the Yay-We're-Halfway-There week.  This week's focus was on money, one's thoughts about it, and its role in one's life.  What I noticed for myself is that growing up I always equated being an artist with being poor.  I guess maybe that's why I went into business and ignored art school.  Thankfully, I now do lots of creative things in my life so I have a good balance, but I'm grateful for this week to reflect on how a fear of not having money has shaped the choices that I've made in my life.

Also, according to the book, we were instructed to be on the lookout for freebies.  Apparently they should be dropping from the sky.  For two of my friends with whom I'm doing the Artist's Way, this held true.  It was cool to hear their stories.  For me, though I didn't get any complimentary packets of shampoo in the mail,  I did have the BEST week of random former students dropping me emails and our team throwing me a 3rd-anniversary party in a show of appreciation.   Those notes, cards, etc. made my week kinda perfect.

Less than a month

• Plane ticket:  check
• Wristband:  check
• Giddy, child-like excitement:  check

SXSW, y'all!  It's less than a month away.  This is my very favorite time of year.  I spend the preceding weeks listening to music ad nauseam and cleansing, kind of, since the Wednesday - Sunday a.m. stretch can be a toxic blur.  (In the best possible way.) 

So far, I'm excited that The Generationals are playing a day show on Thursday at Home Slice.  And, I'm crossing my fingers that The XX are playing either a day show or after-party (and that I can get in to that) since I have a No La Zona Rosa policy and that's where they're currently scheduled to play on Friday night.  

Awesome like a kitten!

***

This week for my weekly creative date (as part of the Artist's Way) I made homemade vanilla extract.  It's super easy, except that you have to have a lot of patience.  Like, two months worth.  Here's how it goes.
Step 1.  Gather ingredients:

• 1 vanilla bean (I love this store The Spice Station in Silverlake)
• 2 oz. vodka (use a decent vodka)
• Glass container

Step 2.  Slice the vanilla bean in half, then cut into 1/2" pieces.  Place them into the container.  Add vodka.   Take a shot for yourself.  (Just kidding.)  Seal.  Let it sit for one - two months, shaking occasionally.  

Step 3.  Add a label 'cause it's fun.  

I added a little homemade label using a random sticker I found around the house and an old business card. 

Day Close-Enough, Reading Cleanse

Today is Day 7 of the reading moratorium imposed by The Artist's Way thing I've been doing with some friends.  Technically, I'd have to not read until 11 p.m. or so tonight to have satisfied the requirements, but I'm okay with quitting.  I get the point, you know?  When I do a food cleanse, which is waaayyyy easier, I am super strict about not cheating.  This reading thing?  Not so much.  Even with allowing myself to read work-related email, text, IM, etc. this was hard.  And in the spirit of openness, I feel like I should disclose my indiscretions:

• Exercised a VERY liberal definition of "work," including:  any instant messaging over corporate IM software to anyone who at least works at the same mega-corporation as me; all writing-related emails, because obviously my burgeoning writing career is work; and checking my hotmail and gmail (w/out digging into the body of the email) just to make sure I wasn't missing anything that fell into the category of something I was allowed to read. 
• Went the bookstore yesterday to make a present and read the heck out of some Rumi.  In my defense, I made a really cute Valentine as a result of that reading.
• Accidentally read some texts.  (I'm serious that it was "accidental" -- I've kind of liked the break from that.)
• I'm sure I've messed up some other ones so I'll just put a bullet point here as a placeholder.

Here are the things I've liked about not reading, (to the extent that I actually did it): 

• I haven't missed facebook.  At  all.
• My phone is no longer my best friend.  It wasn't as hard of a break up as I thought it would be.  Last night I went out and didn't even bring it.  That's pretty new for me.  I hope it's not one of those things where we get back together then I have to break up again, and it's this total cycle, and all of my friends are sick of hearing about my ping pong relationship, blah blah blah...

Anyway, as I said, I'm glad I tried it and I'm glad it's over.  Now back to my regularly scheduled life.

Day What-the-f-ever, Reading Cleanse

I basically cheated on my stupid reading cleanse tonight.  It's been four and a half hours, on and off, that I've been trying to get my left contact lens out and it won't budge and I'm freaked out that I might lose my eye so obviously I needed to get on the internet to find out if, in fact, I will die.  Turns out I won't, but I bet I look really, really ugly in the morning, with one eye shriveled up like a sad little raisin.  I hate these stupid things, I hate this stupid reading cleanse, and that's how I'm doing tonight.

***

Last night I went to a story slam.  It's like a poetry slam but with personal anecdotes instead.  Balls, man.  Balls.  There had to have been about 250 people in the audience.  Before the show, contestants (oh yes, it's judged -- with point scores) go up, put their names in a tote bag and then throughout the night names are drawn to get on stage.  Before going to the thing I had every intent of trying it some time.  And then I saw the size of the crowd.  Uhhh, no.  I'm super impressed by the people who do do it though.  Hats off.  (Actually, instead of tipping my hat, contestants, I'll just wink at you, permanently, since I doubt I'll ever be able to use my left eye again.)

Day 2: Reading Cleanse (otherwise known as The Longest Week of My Life)

For starters, I’m going crazy.

Some people have children or pets or other significant relationships, I have a phone.  For at least the last seven years, my phone hasn’t been just some meaningless device for making calls. Before my iPhone I had a Blackberry, and before my Blackberry I had a Razr with texting and voice memos and video and limited internet, and before that? Well that was the beginning of time, folks. Talking on it is something I only do well at two a.m., after several drinks. Hell, I've stopped dating people through text message.  I wouldn’t remember how to dial if it weren’t for voice commands.

These past two days, where my phone has only been used for calls, have been harrowing.  Picture camping for a week in Denali National Park, in February, with only a day pack and zero navigation.  Picture it being very, very cold.  This is worse. 

There have been some fortunate and not-so-fortunate side-effects to this digital starvation diet.  Since I can't read personal email, I've read the hell out of every work email I've received.  Twice.  I'm getting really good at my job.  Also, last night and today I've used the phone for real conversations.  I didn't die.  That was good.  But, on the other hand, I can't bear to bring my iPhone to meetings anymore.  It just depresses me.  The energy I used to spend thirty or so times a day, errr...hour, checking my it has been channeled elsewhere.  Regrettably, in the form of a nervous tic.  You know how amputees report suffering from some sort of phantom limb sensation?  That's how I am with my iPhone.  I keep pressing the home button as if somehow looking at it will telepathically deliver me the email and texts I can't read.  I miss it. I miss you, iPhone.

A food cleanse is nowhere near as hard as a reading moratorium.  Master cleanse?  Please.  In the last 48 hours, I've run the gamut in emotions:  Anger (F this dumb book); Sadness (Break-ups suck);  and Despair (I'll never make it!).  But there's also that little tiny voice that's telling me I'm really gonna be fine and this is good for me.  Or maybe that's just what ALo tells me, who called me today to gloat about my digital Siberia and also to ask that she be removed from my gift-giving list.  To which I eeked out a meager "Np.  Thx for calling.  Ttyl."

OIC BRB

I'm starting Week 4 of The Artist's Way.  Each week has a new focus and this week she, (Julia Cameron, that is), asks the impossible:  no reading.  None.  No email, no texts, no IMs, no magazines, no websites, no backs of cereal boxes.  I'm not sure I'll survive.  I can't say I even remember life before texting.  Life without IM?  Is there such a thing?  Back in the day, April, Dre, and I sat five feet from each other at work.   IM was still our primary method of communication.  It beat the hell out of forming full sentences.  (Incidentally, we credit this period with the invention of some very creative and useful emoticons, most of them inappropriate for this blog.)  

I like talking to people through not talking at all.  Jesus, I take my phone with me to Runyon so I can text the person I'm walking with.  I'm not sure I even know how to have a real conversation.  But, since I like experiments, (and, oh yeah, I"m doing this book thing for 12 weeks) I'm going to try this out.  So, for one week, no facebook, no personal email, texts, IMs, reading websites, and for good measure, TV.  I have a job, so it's impossible for me to ignore my work email for the next seven days (though sometimes I'd like to).

In the meantime, I've made my own list of things I'm going to fill my time with for the next seven days:

1.  Think about going to the gym.
2.  Nachos!
3.  Finish the lightbox I started.
3.  Write some stuff.  (I think I can do this w/out reading, right?)
4.  Re-arrange my bedroom.
5.  Learn how to count.
6.  Practice guitar.
7.  Write letters to friends.  (I took this suggestion from Julia's list.  I like it.)
8.  Finish the list of 10 alternate titles for this blog.  Any suggestions?

I think it's going to be a good week.

***

P.S.  I decided today that for the rest of the year, I'm making all gifts I give.  So if I know you and I normally get you something, for the rest of this year I'm going to make you something instead.   Lucky you.  (Incidentally, this is not part of my 2010: Year of the Cheapo plan.  It's just my attempt to be more thoughtful about the gifts I give.)
P.P.S.  If you want me to make you something specific, let me know.
P.P.P.S.  If your birthday is in the next week, it's best that you not text me or email me or comment on this blog to let me know since I can't actually read it.  Other means of telling me something:  phone call, singing telegram, smoke signals.

hopscotch

Today I started Week 3 of The Artist's Way.  It's a 12-week experiment I'm doing with three of my favorite people.   Each week you read a chapter, do some journal-type exercises, take yourself on a date (alone, in case that wasn't obvious), and write daily "morning" pages (so called because you write them first thing in the morning when the most clever thing you can put on a piece of paper is "blah").  (Is that punctuation correct, Jos?)   The morning pages and the solo dates have been the easiest.  I guess maybe because I like to write (even when it's sludge) and seeing movies by myself is like, the best.  So, it's the weekly journaling exercises that get me.  I do them, begrudgingly.   I read at the beginning of the book that the author said that you should finish at least half of them (there are 10 each week) so guess what my standard is?  Yep - 5.  (Although this week I was really ambitious -- I completed 9.)  Anyway, I'm inspired to keep going because it's a challenge and stuff.

***
I have been watching The Bachelor religiously.   My favorite is Gia mostly b/c she's the cutest dresser.

***CLu:  Hearts for you, man.  Uhhh, I did in fact write "Catcher AND the Rye."  I love it when I do that sh*t.

The year of living dangerously

My friends roped me into invited me to do Artist's Way.  It's basically where you write three pages of chicken scratch every morning and you make a date with yourself to do something creative once a week.   The easy thing -- perhaps smart -- thing to do would have been to simply say no.  It takes seven hours a week at least and I'm a busy girl.  But you know I like a challenge (3 for 30, 100 days of blogging, etc.) and good things always come from these types of experiments so I went for it.  Plus my friends' enthusiasm is contagious.  And now I'm actually happy.  See how that works?  Yesterday I continued on a creative project I'd long since shelved, I started some poetry (I'm so not a poet), and well, it's fun to do projects with people you dig.

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In other Things You Begrudgingly Do With Friends news, I joined a gym.  My friend G and I have been talking about working out after/before work.  I haven't belonged to a gym since Cambridge primarily because they remind me of feet.  But I do like exercise and I like exercise with friends.  Today for lunch we checked out 24-Hour Fitness.  It was nasty.  The locker rooms looked dirty.  It smelled.   We asked the tour guide (or whatever you call the people that basically try and tell you that they have a deal for you for one day only!) about the funk and his answer was that the rain in LA affects the circulation in the gym.  Uhhh, what?  I asked him to explain it and he was all, "See the fog on the windows?"  Me:  "Yes."  Him:  "Well that's why it smells in here."  Right.  Discouraged, we checked out another place.  That place won.  Did I mention the gym we chose is known for its porn star population?