Edit first, publish later

For the first time, I opened one of my posts via Feedly and realized that updates to my posts do not translate to the feed. This sucks, as I tend to publish first, then use the formatted page and alternate colors as assistance to fix a dozen or so typos and cut some unneeded sentences.  Which apparently benefits only the half-dozen total strangers who stumble on this blog each year.  Folks who actually know me and like me enough to keep me on their readers, however, never reap the benefits. Sorry folks.

Related articles

• RSS app Reeder 3 for Mac update teased

I'm Diversified...

You might or might not have noticed that I have been writing less about writing on this blog. It does not mean I am writing less about writing in general. In fact, I am writing more about writing, such that I thought, "maybe I should have a place that's just about writing," and now I do.  It's at barringtonsmith.net.  It is where you will find all my ponderings about rejection,  occasional brags and humble-brags, experiences with "the business," and sporadic discussion of craft. 

Here I will occasionally talk about writing as well, but I will try to be less long-winded about it. I'm still trying to figure out the balance, because much of my life is configured around writing, so something called The Daily B will inevitably brush up against writing like a California King in a small room.  In the same way, what I write about writing can only be infused with my life.

After many more years than you would think--considering I identify as a writer--I am at last reading Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet.  Rilke says (to the young would-be poet),

...acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write. This above all--ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write? Delve into yourself of a deep answer. and if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must," then build your life according to this necessity; your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge and a testimony to it.

I like to think if it were denied me to write, I would probably not die. I would find something else to do, but I'm not sure.  I think my first instinct would be to write about the experience of having writing denied to me. And I have, for better or worse, built my life as if it were a necessity, even as I propose it is not a necessity. So perhaps I am the delusional alcoholic who says, "I can quit whenever I want."

Read Scripts. Watch Movies. Write Pages.

But maybe not in that order.

Sometimes I like to read Scott Meyer's Go Into the Story blog, that is all about screenwriting, and also contains a million (yes, hyperbole) links to other blogs and resources about screenwriting.  He adds content more frequently than I can keep up with, so I miss a lot, but I check in occasionally and recently I happened upon this post, where he recommends a formula of reading 1 script a week, watching 2 movies a week, writing 7 pages a week (one a day) and devoting 14 hours a week to story prep.  A  I think his numbers are pretty good for maintaining a steady practice and learning curve, but faced with hard deadlines, one has to prioritize a little differently. In my own case, I have to devote my highest hour count to pages of screenplays I'm actively writing (and rewriting!) but this article was a nice little wake-up call to the fact that I tend to let my script reading, and even my movie watching, fall to the wayside in my desire to finish pages.

It's a delicate balance--because to a certain extent, it's helpful to put on blinders and just keep running.  But when I make myself read a script, watch a film--I almost always pick up something useful for one of my projects. Last night, while folding laundry I watched Mississippi Masala, a Mira Nair film with a very young Denzel Washington. As  public service announcement, I'll note that you can watch the entire film on YouTube here. Tonight I started reading Monster's University, because what better than a Pixar film for reinforcing all the basics--perfect structure, characters with strong wants with obstacles, story beats that hit right where they're supposed to.  Too tired to finish tonight, but something to look forward to when I wake up in the morning.

I was interested that Meyers recommended more time spent on story prep than writing (assuming that most people can write a page in an hour or less). Also, I wondered what he  regarded as story prep. From context, it seems like he's referring to ideation, as opposed to extensive notes and research for a single project, but maybe not--or maybe he's deliberately loose in his definition. While I haven't been keeping a notebook of late, I give myself credit for the fact that I'm writing a short story to a prompt every week for the fiction class I'm taking, and I think that has been keeping the creative taps open. I've also done drafts of two longer stories that I'm pretty happy with for first drafts.

Would You Hate Me

If I moved this blog back to blogger?  Had website developing session with a friend the other day.  She recommended putting the "blog" for this website up front on the first page, to keep folks abreast of current projects etc.  She suggested that my more personal blog posts might be moved to a Tumblir account, because Tumblir is now the spot for the random, and the "authentic,".  At least that's what the kids are saying.

But something about moving the blog I've had since 2005 to Tumblir so people  will think it's authentic feels a little inauthentic.

And maybe so does having it linked to the site, because, although it is far from finished--the site is really about me as a writer.  It's not about me as a cancer veteran, or me as a neurotic packer of things, or failed wanna-be neat freak.  It's not about weird shit that I see and think about--it's not about being human--which to me, has always been the impulse behind this blog.  But it feels different next to these other website pages, and even though I vow to myself that I'll always be honest on my blog...I think I'm less likely to talk about a colonoscopy, refinancing my mortgage, selling the car, daily thoughts about writing suicide (not "real" suicide, just killing off the writer aspect of myself, in order to live a different life.

So anyway--that may happen soon.  I gotta watch some tutorials and see how to make it happen.

Under Construction

This blog is going to look pretty funky for a few days--or maybe weeks or months.  I'm in the process of trying to build a website around the blog, which seems like a good idea--but I'm not exactly sure how.  So I'll be experimenting with the whole thing, and hopefully not deleting seven years' worth of blog posts in the process!

 It's been on my list to have a writer's website for awhile, but it came to a head recently. As I've mentioned, I  have this staged reading coming up...

(Wait--I need to insert an announcement here:

MPW Stage and Screen Festival
Staged Readings of Three One Acts
APRIL 7th
7PM
ELECTRIC LODGE
1416 Electric Avenue
Venice, CA 90291

Note that if I had an "events" section or page it would be there, but I don't, so it's not...yet)

I have this reading coming up, and the director asked me, "do you have any actors you want to recommend?"

There was a time, when I belonged to small a theater company here in LA, that I would have had twenty actors I had worked with directly and would love to use.  Nowadays, I have some friends, and friends of friends, who are actors.  They are not "Wow, I know this person would be absolutely perfect."  They're more like, "I think they could be good--they seem the right type, and speak in complete sentences at parties."  But I haven't worked with them.  Also, I don't know the director very well,  he may have actors that he works with and really likes working with already, which, in these circumstances, seem ideal. So, basically, I have a small group of folks that I'd like to have the opportunity, if there are some openings, but I'm not ready to be solely responsible for casting them.  In this town, that happens A LOT. 

In this case my thought was, "I'll send their websites to said director. Then he can look at their headshots and reels, evaluate their training, experience etc"

The trouble was NONE of them had a website.  I ended up sending pictures from Facebook, IMDB links (one had a link with no picture) or their bios from posted play or film sites.  I still put them out there, but it was harder, and they don't look as serious.  

And I have to wonder, is that happening to me?  I doubt I'm missing out on a feature film assignment, but I meet a lot of people who have projects.  If they happen to idly think of me, am I making it easier for them to give me an opportunity, or mention me to someone else who might?

Not so much.

So it's time for a website--and as loyal blog readers, you'll get to witness its growing pains!

What's Going On Now...I'm Okay

When I first understood I had endometrial cancer, the first place I turned was the internet. Before  I reached out to friends or family in the 3-D world, I reached for my computer.  Granted, I was sitting in a room with no people and a computer--but regardless--the internet was where I took my fears--searching for answers, for comfort, for someone who had taken the path I was suddenly being pushed down.

And in those moments, when I stumbled upon material that said things that are hard to say and answered questions I couldn't yet ask out loud, I was so GRATEFUL for those people--those writers--on the forums, or on blogs--that they were braver, or more outgoing than I generally am--that they would "put it out there" so someone like me could read about their lives and feel less alone.

When I felt that gratitude, I decided that regardless of outcome, I wanted to give back to the internet, that I was going to write the kind of posts that I found myself looking for--unflinching and close to the bone. I wasn't ready to "go live" yet--the emotions were too raw...and the writing was too crappy.  As a writer, even if I were dying, I'd be ashamed to publish prose that was completely as unshaped as my real journal entries are.

But I'm NOT DYING--that's the main thrust of this post.  I've been journaling in the present on this particular subject, and blogging--based on those journals-- from the past.  So my blog posts are about a month old. This won't matter to the the young woman a year from now who hears the words You have cancer and starts looking for blogs on the topic and finds all these posts after the fact under one label in the archives.

But I've just realized that for people who actually know me, but whom I haven't spoken to personally it probably does matter.  You might be reading these posts without knowing what's going on now--which is that I am okay.  The end of this story is a happy one.  As of yesterday's lab reports I can officially say the cancer is gone.  I won't have to do chemo.  I'm already walking around, and am about to be driving.

So, I wanted you to know that. And to thank you for your caring comments, and in one case--FLOWERS!

(BTW, if I haven't mentioned it to you, it's not that I wouldn't. I'm not a secretive person, but it feels weird to mention at every opportunity:  "Oh sorry, I can't come to your birthday/karaoke party/baby shower because I have to deal with my cancer."  Way to take someones happy occasion and make it all sad and about me, y'know?  And I emailed about a dozen people and told them, and can say that in about half those cases, it already seemed weird. It's hard to know exactly what to do, and nothing feels exactly right, but fortunately, you can just kind of let it go by saying, whatever, I have cancer, okay?)

Farewell, More of This...

One of my favorite blogs came to an end today. It's not listed in my sidebar, because...well actually I'm not sure why... Maybe it wasn't public? If you follow this link, does it take you anywhere? If so, that's her blog, you should check out a few entries while it's still up.

I read this article from the New York Times the other day about how the word "authentic" has become a catchphrase that doesn't mean very much anymore. My friend V, in the "about me" section of her blog, talks about "trying to live a more authentic life"--and you can tell from her writing that it does mean something when she says it. Maybe because many of her posts--just about her life--her goals, academic, professional, relationship, fashion-related--never obscured the trying.

As a writer who has spent a fair amount of time browsing job listings, I see that a lot of blogs out there want "content creators." I get it. It's a blog about fashion or technology or celebrity mishaps. Writing has to know what it is, and have focus, and, to be successful, it has to attract readers who don't care at all about the writer. But a result of that a lot of blogs out there have "content" about recipes or pop-culture, and not so many have "writing" about the human condition. This blog was about the human condition. The writer talked about the struggles of living with disability, trying to be healthier and happier, trying to construct a beautiful environment conducive to being healthier and happier. She talked about being queer, she talked about being fat, she talked about sexuality and clothes and making professional decisions...but whatever she talked about, it was thoughtful. There was often an element that went beyond reportage, slipped beneath the surface, and revealed a bit of her. It was a generous blog.

Although I seldom think to leave comments on blogs, I did leave one in response to her farewell post. In it I talked about how that C.S. Lewis adage that "we read to know we are not alone." I think it would be fair to change the words a bit and say reading helps us feel less alone. But to me, that feels almost flipped on its head today. Particularly if I am reading on the internet, I can end up feeling more alone. But reading her blog was definitely the former experience--less alone feeling, all the way.

It is on my mind today, because V is not the first of my writer friends to bring her personal blog to an end for professional reasons--both because such exposure of one's personal life can be detrimental, and because, let's face it--if you are blogging, that means you are not writing material that can be published and will contribute to your success as a professional writer, which is the goal, is it not? Eyes on the prize. I'm writing this right now--and I am NOT working on my novel, and I really need to be working on the novel. (I haven't been blogging much recently, because I HAVE been working on my novel, so, "yay me" for that.)

My friends who have left behind their journals and personal blogs are, pretty much across the board, achieving more success and publications than I am. I genuinely love seeing that, and I genuinely want that for myself. But this doesn't change the fact that the professional websites they've created, while necessary for their pursuits, are not a replacement for what I have lost-- the pleasure of hearing their voices in my head as I read these less important words on my computer screen, of having little insights into their daily lives and inner lives--insights that are somehow different from those I gain with an email or phone call, or, when we lived in the same town, even meeting in person. The stuff that one "throws out there" in a blog has a different energy to it. Maybe because when we speak to a faceless readership, there's some part of us that ends up just speaking to ourselves, and the readers are just listening in?

I keep coming back to this blog, my blog. I'm not sure all the reasons why. I think one is that I don't just read to fell less alone, but I write to feel less alone. And while I occasionally check my readership numbers, at least some of the less-aloneness comes from somewhere else...from the sense that out in the world, other people are also thinking and writing, and reveling in the feel of reflecting on their lives. I find that a comfort. I don't feel the same camaraderie when I'm writing a screenplay and I think of all the other glowing MacBooks across Los Angeles.

This has dissolved into a ramble, hasn't it? I could try to shape it--but I have to get back to that novel. But to summarize: Farewell to V's blog. And, for the moment I continue. Stop by. I'll try to be here.

Just a Sunday Afternoon

I think I've made an unconscious but very deliberate decision to blow off most of the things I should be doing today. Things like looking high and low for a lost paycheck (I'll probably still do that), gathering and copying a dozen different documents required for a loan application to refinance my little condo (maybe I'll try to do one or two today) and writing (this is as close as I'm going to get.) Strangely, once I've decided what I'm NOT going to to--primarily write-- the day feels much longer than it usually does. it's kind of nice. I've spend much of it puttering around, trying to figure out how to do a few things to this blog. Notice how I've added a new drop down menu for the chronological archives, and a new "by topic" archive as well, although going back and tagging all my old posts is going to be an ongoing project. I've also updated my links so they all work again, and updated my roster of "Other Blogs."

The day has also been made longer by the fact that I'm not going to work out today. Just not. I actually have a bit of a sore two which is more of a drag than you might think. It's weird how damage to such a small part of your body can be so incapacitating.

Soon I'm going to return some clothes to Loehmann's with my friend Christine--In a last minute flurry, I bought four possible shirts for my reading a couple weeks ago, and chose one--I don't need the others. I've heard that buying things gives you a little rush of endorphins, maybe like eating. I might be a little bit of a shopping bulimic. I like that rush of buying something, but afterwards, I'm usually happy enough to take it back.

Mostly I'm trying not to be stressed out by a business decision I need to make this week regarding one of my scripts. It's something that is very secret apparently, so I'm not allowed to discuss it with anyone "not even your significant other." So I won't say anything revealing here, except to say that no one is buying it or making a movie out of it next week or anything. It's just something that could be a good opportunity, or could one of those things that could also go wrong in so many ways. If I choose to do it, I have to take it out of the running--so much as it is in the running--with the people who have expressed interest in it--who are few and informal, but who have been generous with their time and their notes, and whom I really appreciate. The fact that I'm not supposed to talk about it is hard for me. There are good and logical reasons why, but it means I have to make a decision in a vacuum, without much advice--and whenever people want me to do things and not tell anyone, it just feels shady. I mean, have you ever watched a movie where someone wants the protagonist to do something, but not tell anyone, where the surrounding circumstances weren't shady? I mean except for ransom and spy scenarios--and really, those are still shady, it's just that they have good reasons. So anyway, in a couple of weeks I'll fill you in on that.

Tomorrow morning, I go to observe classes at the California International University, where I am going to be on the substitute roster to teach ESL (English as a Second Language.)

Honing

Best thing anyone has ever said about this blog: "it makes me feel less alone in the world."

The least best, but somewhat thought-provoking thing anyone has said about this blog lately: "I don't want you to quote things I say on your blog."

Which I kind of just did--but I paraphrased. And I won't be quoting the things he said next, which apparently were the items of concern. Nor anything he says in the future about anything, because--I get it.

Really it is a composite quote, of this guy as well as others who maybe haven't, but I know might like to say the same thing, in various ways. I do occasionally run into folks who emits a real antipathy toward, if not my blog, the idea of a personal blog in general. And somehow, their expression of antipathy hurts my feelings. Which is ridiculous--because it is not about me--exactly. I am not a blog. I am not the general idea of a blog.

But I keep a blog. And my sense is that the judgement I feel is not aesthetic. It's moral. And maybe kind of aesthetic--because we live in a world where who you are as a person is defined by your taste. If you like Christian Rock--you get put in a box--the world assumes they know something about you as a person. If you wear high-waisted mom-jeans, or love Justin Beiber, or Avatar was your favorite movie last year--these are signs of who you are.

So it's hard to have either your moral or your aesthetic behavior questioned--at least for me. And the less secure you are in your own beliefs, the harder it is to be judged on things. The whole thing makes me very very sympathetic to individuals and groups who have to create their own code (moral or fashion) in the face of a generous amount of public opposition. Like the civil rights movement, the LGBT community...and Bjork.

People judging inter-racial marriage: I don't care. Because the idea seems so antiquated, and wrong, and almost everyone I know personally would never think about that, so that criticism would only come from a stranger anyway.

People judging my taste in clothes: I care a little. It's hard to let go of fourth grade. And watching Project Runway doesn't help.

People judging my actions that I write about, motivations for writing in public, discretion in protecting or using people in the world around me as subject matter: It's food for thought.

As I consider limiting my subject matter more and more, I should say that I've been fortunate that Paul loves to be talked about, written about, blogged about. He's really perfect for me in this way. In Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods. It's been a topic of debate whether the character of Stephen Katz --the book's strong personality and comic foil, was real.

I have my own personal Katz.

Blog Confession

Over time, I’ve been narrowing my own sense of what this blog is—and as I’ve probably alluded to a few times, it's pretty much just about the world as I experience it, and my experiencing of the world. That seems pretty simple, and so in general I’ve maintained (to myself if not publicly) the idea that this is the one venue where won't not second guess my writing either because of its subject matter or the actual facility of the writing. If I’ve recorded something that I've genuinely observed or felt, then that is part of the “record” I’m creating, and once it goes up, I don't pull it down. (Although I reserve the right to correct spelling and grammer errors and delete boring bits, etc.) It’s certainly not the degree of social activism of other blogs I read and admire, but it is my own little code—this degree of personal honesty—and it’s what I have to offer.

This is not to say that everything is all serious, or that I don’t just as often post kind of “artifacts” instead of a real post—but these (like my recent cover letter in response to a UTA list job posting), are still indicative of what’s going on, how I’m feeling about things.

A few weeks ago, I posted some items that weren't quite in keeping with the spirit of this blog.

It started with this job posting on Craigslist:

I am looking to develop a book-related blog geared towards women aged 40+ with teen or pre-teen children, who are avid readers and use the Internet. The idea is to have daily posts akin to 5-mins breathers for an otherwise busy and constraining day. The posts need to be well-written, have their own voice and be funny, provocative, gossipy or just interesting. They must be safe for a work environment and for an environment with children. Each post will be tied (if only loosely is fine) to a specific book. Book genres are diverse and span romance, sci-fi, fiction, non-fiction, politics, children's etc. ……... A fit with current events or whatever else might make the content relevant to the women reading it would be great.
experience and style. This sounds like you? Please send your resume and writing samples to Xxxxxx: xxxxxxxxxxx@harpercollins.com.

In response, I wrote a couple of samples that were like my style, but slanted--per the assignment, I tried to be a little more funny / gossipy than I am normally. Since the most recent books I’d read had been in conjunction with book clubs, that’s what I wrote about.

I have never received a reply to anything I have sent in response to a job posting on Craigslist, and this was no exception…so after a week or so, I figured I would just put my samples on this blog—and I did.

In the wake of these book club posts, I heard that two of the members portrayed in one of the posts had left book club. I didn’t hear of any reason why. I was genuinely sad, because they were people whom I liked personally, enjoyed seeing, and thought contributed a lot of insight in our discussions. And then I had a horrifying thought-- perhaps my descriptions had hurt feelings and caused this. For the first time in memory, I went back to the post and edited out a paragraph.

Eventually, one of the women who’d left told me that what I wrote had not been the cause of her leaving. I was relieved she wasn’t angry with me, but somehow that news didn't erase my misgivings about those posts, and here's why:

It’s not that what I wrote was inaccurate in its portrayal of people and events, but at the same time there was an element of dishonesty. I was writing to amuse an audience of strangers. I was writing as a persona—someone funny and gossipy, with “attitude.” The result might have been fine for its original purpose as a writing sample, but it wasn’t really fine to use here, where, according to the unspoken contract I feel I have with readers of this blog, it might be interpreted as a true representation my perspective. I felt like I went to a party where I exchanged witty banter in an attempt to be cool--which was fine, because I do that sometimes--but then I brought it home and used it with real friends, where it rang a little false.

In retrospect, I might still have published those posts, but in context, explaining upfront about my habit of responding to weird and random job postings, and my attempts to be “funny-gossipy-attitude girl.” Maybe I wouldn’t have published them at all.

As a student of writing, teachers often talk about “knowing who your audience is.” I do feel like I finally have a sense of my audience for this blog. It’s me, and people who know me—and even if you aren’t a person who really knows me, from what I write, you should be able to.

I have a lot more that I’ve been thinking about blogging and writing and life that tangentially relates to this, but in the interest of not making a long post to much longer, I’ll save that for future posts and make my ultimate point, which is that I’m sorry. And I get that this is weird, since it’s unlikely you ever even noticed, but I am. I'm sorry for slipping into fakedom. I hope not to do so again any time soon.

Like Frankenstein

So this morning I thought I'd take a few minutes to add a couple new links (see sidebar). However, in the process, I think I accidentally erased a chunk of code at the top of my page...so that when I published, the page was naked code, with no formatting, really yucky. My HTML is really really scanty, so I spent the next hour and a half looking for blogs that seem similar to mine and then looking at their source code to see if I could figure out what was missing. Finally I just copied a big chunk from someone else's and pasted it in. Voila! my page is back, albeit with a few changes to the color scheme that I might not have chosen...but no way am I messing with it now. And underneath the skin, to someone who knows what they are seeing, does my page code just look all crappily cobbled together...like Frankenstein?

She Likes Me Back!

A while back I mentioned my blog-crush, Scarlet Panda? Well she apparently noticed me stalking her blog on her site-meter, and found my blog! She commented on my post and referred me back! It’s so sweet! As a result, over the past few days, I have had more than usual visitors, largely due to the link from her blog.

I was explaining this to our houseguest-Eric, who is a writer as well as an actor, and he asked me, "Doesn't it make you nervous, when you sit down to write, to have an audience?"

And I said “Pshaw. Of course not! That’s why a blog is good for you, it’s like doing improv, or open mics if you’re an actor. You practice just putting something out there on a regular basis, regardless of who’s out there, and it makes you better.”

He said, “Gee, that’s brave. How many people read your blog each day?”

“Um. Four….and, well, actually one of those is me.”

Yesterday my average readership was up to five. And today, sitting down to write I’ve found out he’s right. I do have a bit of stage fright.

Which has made me consider audience, and the whole blog habit I’ve developed, and why. I started this blog as a way to communicate with friends and family, as an alternate to with periodic newsletters, as was my habit when we lived overseas. I liked the idea of them a “virtual space” where they could visit at their leisure. I have found however, that even those people who responded positively to receiving emails, did not make the switch to blog-space.

So what is it I’m writing now, and why? Am I giving updates of my everyday life in terms that would appeal to my parents, aunts, uncles etc? No. That would hardly make sense. Am I, as I reflexively answered Eric, writing for “practice?” That rings false. I don’t think I ever thought that before I said it. Am I writing for myself? Certainly I feel compelled to come to the page and write, but if it’s just for myself, why do I visit my blog instead of my journal?

Most of my regular readers are friends I had before, but not ones with whom I had a steady individual correspondence. They are people who already had an online social network. It’s part of their paradigm. Since I’ve started “hanging around” blog type people, have I started to adjust my posts, to expound upon random thoughts in a way that could be read by the general public, or general public of blog-surfers?

I think it’s possible. It’s probable. Certainly I am puzzling out my own thoughts, I am writing for people who know me, but I am also “performing” for an audience.

I would give my opinion on this, but I don’t know what it is yet.

Red Bear

I think I have a new blog crush. When you log in at Blogspot, in addition to the tools for creating or editing your posts, etc, there is a little sidebar of links called "Blogs of Note," that changes every week. It's kind of an impulse aisle where you can click on random blogs with interesting names--or, if your are procrastinatinge because you have sixteen hours worth of Old English Translations to plow through, you might just click on them all. If there's one that's pretty interesting, you might click on that person's links, and this is how I found Scarlet Panda. The things she (I've decided she's female) posts to be funny, I think are funny. The things she notices about the world, I find interesting. And that one particular post about baggage claim? I swear said almost the exact same thing, out loud, last time I was at the Indianapolis Airport. Because her profile states she's in the midwest. I like to think she was at that airport and overheard, but that's unlikely.

Miscellaneous

The odd thing about keeping this blog is that after I miss a certain number of days I start to have some odd performance anxiety where what I say has to be doubly profound or entertaining to somehow compensate for the days that pass, then instead of just saying what’s on my mind, I wait to see if I will have something more profound or entertaining on my mind tomorrow or the next day. I suffer in contrast to some friends, who maintain more frequent posts while traveling, raising children, working and battling major illnesses. Huh.

Another deterrent, as I start to write on some days, is that I feel alternately that what I want to write is too frivolous (like what I think of the new Superman movie), too self absorbed (like me, my TV writing projects, my little mental demons, my obsession with regular digestion), or too serious or even a bit out of my jurisdiction. For instance, although my father’s health has for years been an open topic of discussion, my mother has always less likely to allow her health to cause ripples in the water. Thankfully she tends to enjoy good health. However, in the past week, she was diagnosed with emphysema. This was very unexpected, as she lives an active lifestyle, doesn’t smoke, and was not having trouble breathing. In terms of illness, our family has been a bit of a one hit wonder, and when something arises that isn’t cancer, I find myself at a loss. From my back pocket I can pull at least a dozen stories of people who have recovered from “fatal” cancers. I don’t have any stories about emphysema. Maybe some of you do?

Links Are Up!

Very proud of myself. I have successfully edited the links on the sidebar. All friends of mine who are clever and creative. Except for Avant Game. I just wish she was my friend, but I've never met her. Is there some kind of protocol where I should write and ask permission before adding that link?

Healthy(er) Baking Tip
Tonight I made some cookie dough from a mix. A fan of the baking mix for many years, I have cut back significantly since embracing different diet practices in the wake of my illness. But occasionally I veer from the path, and when I do, I grab the Ghiradelli chocolate chip cookie mix. This is the only mix on the entire shelf that does not contain partially hydrogenated oils. I've read a lot of labels and have not seen another product without them. Even the other Ghiradelli products, like their brownies, contain partially hydrogenated oils.

Trivia: The history behind baking mixes is that when cake mixes originally debuted after WWII, all you had to add was water. They either sold or tested badly--I can't remember which--because the ladies of the house didn't feel they were "doing" enough. So the manufacturers pulled the powdered egg from the mix, and required the homemaker to add a real egg. This was apparently enough to assuage her guilt, and today's pre-made mixes do a rollicking business, if the full aisle of products is any indicator.

Edit 11/10: I have recently seen Krusteaz cookie mixes that also are partially-hydrogenated-oil-free!

Is 3AM a good time to start a blog?

I fear acquiring a blog in the wee hours like this might be akin to early morning impulse buys at the 7-11...when I end up with a handful of different flavored beef jerky even though I don't eat meat (much, and certainly not dried). Or coming home and deciding that finishing off that container of freezer-burned Ben and Jerry's seems like a good idea. I don't see a spell check, it might be a little dangerous. Oh well.

Tonight I went to Baja's, one of the two places in Tallahassee that I know of with a Latin night. It's hard work fishing a dance in this town. After an hour, a guy named Victor finally asked me to dance, followed by his friend Alberto, and then his other friend Alberto. Muy simpaticos, eses hombres. I wonder if the short list on my dance card is because I'm starting to look old! That's depressing. But still, in L.A. it seemed like if you were a dancer, even if you were older, or heavier, or less pretty, you still got asked to dance...guess I just need to perservere until I get to know more people. Or until they get to know me.