- …I would wear sunscreen. I promise. Especially if I was planning on going to an opening night wearing a strapless dress in a few days. Ahem.
- …I just might invest in a Vita-mix and convert to the green drink lifestyle. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm feeling pretty healthy after a week of daily green drinks.
- …I would feel more connected to my family. 1 grandmother, 2 uncles, 2 aunts, and 6 cousins (1 removed) all nearby would ensure that.
- …I would go on a hike every day, because I would have no excuse not to.
- …I would feel like a square, what with all the talk of Burning Man, etc.
- …I would need to earn a lot more money than I do now in order to have a roof over my head.
- …I would probably give into peer pressure and end up more enlightened. Everyone's doing it.
- …you would have to tear me away from the beach. Where I would be wearing sunscreen. Did I mention that?
- …I would take pictures of the landscape all the time, juggling my camera in one hand while I pinched myself with the other to make myself believe that I lived in this gorgeous place.
- …I wouldn't be quite so excited to go back to Houston as I am right now.
If I lived in Southern California…
Part of an ongoing series.
California dreaming
We're driving north up the Pacific Coast Highway, craning our necks to the left to watch the heavy orange sun sink into the ocean. The cotton candy clouds are tinted the same pink as my sunburned chest and shoulders, and the entire sky looks as if it's being illuminated by some very theatrical stage lighting. There's a companionable silence in the car, because really, what is there to say beyond the occasional Wow or Would you look at that?
We pull into town, driving along the beach on a street lined with tall palm trees. Beach volleyball is being played to our left and soccer to our right, the players soaking up every last drop of daylight before they call it a night. We park and get out of the car. It's 66° outside with a cool breeze rustling through the palm fronds. We're greeted by the salty smell of the sea and the sound of the waves before we even see the water in the fading light. The sand is built up in piles from the recent storm, and there are a couple small kids climbing on the piles.
It's all so picturesque, with the palm trees and the sand and the crashing waves, that for a moment, just for a moment, I'm overwhelmed with the desire to move here, suddenly sure that everything would be better if this idyllic spot felt like home, if this paradise was my reality.
But then I remember the frequent earthquakes. And the outrageous housing prices. And my refusal to wear Uggs when it's over 60°.
I guess we can't all be California girls.
We pull into town, driving along the beach on a street lined with tall palm trees. Beach volleyball is being played to our left and soccer to our right, the players soaking up every last drop of daylight before they call it a night. We park and get out of the car. It's 66° outside with a cool breeze rustling through the palm fronds. We're greeted by the salty smell of the sea and the sound of the waves before we even see the water in the fading light. The sand is built up in piles from the recent storm, and there are a couple small kids climbing on the piles.
It's all so picturesque, with the palm trees and the sand and the crashing waves, that for a moment, just for a moment, I'm overwhelmed with the desire to move here, suddenly sure that everything would be better if this idyllic spot felt like home, if this paradise was my reality.
But then I remember the frequent earthquakes. And the outrageous housing prices. And my refusal to wear Uggs when it's over 60°.
I guess we can't all be California girls.
Random reactions to the Oscars
- Men should not wear gold hoop earrings, unless they are on set for a pirate movie. I'm looking at you, Mr. Day-Lewis.
- Spanish accents are sexy.
- Hannah Montana does not belong at the Oscars. I'm just saying.
- Turns out, Mickey Rooney is still alive. Who knew?
- Is it really necessary to bring up the fact that Diablo Cody was an "exotic dancer" every time she's mentioned? Oh, and using Jon Stewart's formula, my stripper name is definitely Gypsy Wells. FYI.
- Thank God the song from Once won. The rest of the songs were hopeless.
- Couldn't they get a diction coach to help the presenters who have to pronounce the titles of foreign films? The only one more painful to listen to than Owen Wilson was that bee, aka Jerry Seinfeld.
- Kristen Chenoweth, you can wear all the 5" heels you want. You will never be tall. Embrace it.
- Can anyone tell me the difference between Sound Editing and Sound Mixing?
- Scottish accents are sexy.
- The fact that Marion Cotillard is so young and lovely in real life makes me all the more impressed with her transformation for La Vie en Rose. Amazing.
- I have seen 31 of the 80 Best Picture films.
- If I can walk and crack jokes in front of people at age 98, I hope I'll be getting a big award so I can show off my mad skills.
- I miss the extended clips of all the Best Pic nominees. I did like that the show came in under 4 hours, though.
- I need to see No Country for Old Men. And There Will Be Blood. And Michael Clayton. And…oh, never mind. I have to go rearrange my Netflix queue.
My new Zen attitude
The most difficult part of my job isn't the long hours, or the intensity of productions, or the uncertainty of the future, or the challenge of dealing with big personalities (read: divas). No, the most difficult part for me is the time in between productions (read: right now).
On the face of it, a vacation is a glorious thing. Sleeping in, no responsibilities, time with friends and family, the opportunity to read and exercise and all those other things I never do. I am certainly a person who relishes my free time, and the time between shows has an abundance of that. But (and there's always a but) I can really only handle it for very short periods. I love a free day during a crazy tech week. I love an unexpected full 2-day weekend in the middle of a production. I do not love 3 whole weeks away from work.
I know it's irrational, but after just a few days I start to feel useless and without direction. I question my purpose and wonder what I'm doing with my life. Never mind that I'm really content with the way my life is going (read: happy). Never mind that I've quite recently gotten a pretty exciting job offer that I'll share details of as soon as I have the contract in my hot little hands. When I'm not working, I forget all of that in favor of long ruminations about the utter lameness of my existence.
Last night, when I should have been blogging, I was in the midst of an epiphany, or a catharsis, or some other kind of multi-syllabic moment of note. Grandma Bossy took me to a play last night, and while it wasn't my favorite night of all time at the theatre, I did hear its message loud and clear. Mostly because I was hit over the head with it by a 2" x 4" (read: excessive repetition). The message was essentially, "Live in the moment." Not incredibly profound and definitely not the first time I've heard it, but it was just what I needed to snap me out of my mid-vacay funk.
I'm an ambitious person. I want to live an extraordinary life, and in everything I do I am building toward that goal. In a lot of ways this is a good thing. I've moved forward in my career quickly and easily due in large part to my drive and ambition. The flip side, of course, is that I'm never completely happy with where I am, especially when I don't feel like I'm doing anything to directly move forward.
So, back to the catharsis (or whatever it was). Are you ready?
I realized yesterday that maybe I"m already living an extraordinary life.
Huge, right? I'm not saying that the funk is completely gone. I'm still feeling somewhat despondent, but at least the rational side of my mind is aware that things aren't so bad.
Even right now, at this very minute, even though I'm not at work. I'm sitting in front of the fireplace with a cat curled up at my feet, taking advantage of the lovely hospitality (read: wine and wi-fi) of Uncle and Aunt Bossy. And I'm feeling better by the minute.
On the face of it, a vacation is a glorious thing. Sleeping in, no responsibilities, time with friends and family, the opportunity to read and exercise and all those other things I never do. I am certainly a person who relishes my free time, and the time between shows has an abundance of that. But (and there's always a but) I can really only handle it for very short periods. I love a free day during a crazy tech week. I love an unexpected full 2-day weekend in the middle of a production. I do not love 3 whole weeks away from work.
I know it's irrational, but after just a few days I start to feel useless and without direction. I question my purpose and wonder what I'm doing with my life. Never mind that I'm really content with the way my life is going (read: happy). Never mind that I've quite recently gotten a pretty exciting job offer that I'll share details of as soon as I have the contract in my hot little hands. When I'm not working, I forget all of that in favor of long ruminations about the utter lameness of my existence.
Last night, when I should have been blogging, I was in the midst of an epiphany, or a catharsis, or some other kind of multi-syllabic moment of note. Grandma Bossy took me to a play last night, and while it wasn't my favorite night of all time at the theatre, I did hear its message loud and clear. Mostly because I was hit over the head with it by a 2" x 4" (read: excessive repetition). The message was essentially, "Live in the moment." Not incredibly profound and definitely not the first time I've heard it, but it was just what I needed to snap me out of my mid-vacay funk.
I'm an ambitious person. I want to live an extraordinary life, and in everything I do I am building toward that goal. In a lot of ways this is a good thing. I've moved forward in my career quickly and easily due in large part to my drive and ambition. The flip side, of course, is that I'm never completely happy with where I am, especially when I don't feel like I'm doing anything to directly move forward.
So, back to the catharsis (or whatever it was). Are you ready?
I realized yesterday that maybe I"m already living an extraordinary life.
Huge, right? I'm not saying that the funk is completely gone. I'm still feeling somewhat despondent, but at least the rational side of my mind is aware that things aren't so bad.
Even right now, at this very minute, even though I'm not at work. I'm sitting in front of the fireplace with a cat curled up at my feet, taking advantage of the lovely hospitality (read: wine and wi-fi) of Uncle and Aunt Bossy. And I'm feeling better by the minute.
It's not easy being green
I have come to the right place to change my unhealthy ways. I am in a strange and wondrous land where waitresses give you unsolicited helpful tips about carbs while you're deciding what to order, a place where even women in their 80's have gym memberships (hi, Grandma Bossy), an exotic locale where organic vegetables can be (and are) eaten just hours after they are picked.
They call it Southern California, and if I stayed much longer I just might transform into a carb-avoiding, skinny jeans with Uggs-wearing, salad-loving, honest-to-goodness California girl.
To speed the process along, I'm joining Aunt and Uncle Bossy every morning for their favorite breakfast: green drink. It's the latest health craze to sweep through my Cali family, and everybody swears it invigorates them and gives them more energy for the day. How could I turn it down?
Green drink is, at its most basic, a whole bunch of green vegetables pureed in a blender (not just any blender) and poured into a drinking glass. The vegetables vary slightly each day, so the drink tastes quite different depending on the batch. Here's a sampling of some of the veggies that make up the concoction: collard greens, kale, carrot tops, salad greens, broccoli, cilantro, and cabbage. Also a few others so nutritious that I've never heard of them. In order to make the drink even remotely palatable first thing in the morning (or ever), some citrus fruits and/or bananas are generally added to the mix. Ginger and garlic are optional.
It's not the worst thing I've ever tasted. Nor is it the best. It is, however, definitely the greenest.
I haven't seen a beer or a mozzarella stick since I got here. I don't know if I have any more energy after 3 days on the green drink, but I suppose it can't hurt to pump myself full of vegetables and nutrients while I'm here. Lord knows I won't be getting much of either in H-town.
Plus, I need all the help I can get if I'm going to look good in those skinny jeans.
They call it Southern California, and if I stayed much longer I just might transform into a carb-avoiding, skinny jeans with Uggs-wearing, salad-loving, honest-to-goodness California girl.
To speed the process along, I'm joining Aunt and Uncle Bossy every morning for their favorite breakfast: green drink. It's the latest health craze to sweep through my Cali family, and everybody swears it invigorates them and gives them more energy for the day. How could I turn it down?
Green drink is, at its most basic, a whole bunch of green vegetables pureed in a blender (not just any blender) and poured into a drinking glass. The vegetables vary slightly each day, so the drink tastes quite different depending on the batch. Here's a sampling of some of the veggies that make up the concoction: collard greens, kale, carrot tops, salad greens, broccoli, cilantro, and cabbage. Also a few others so nutritious that I've never heard of them. In order to make the drink even remotely palatable first thing in the morning (or ever), some citrus fruits and/or bananas are generally added to the mix. Ginger and garlic are optional.I haven't seen a beer or a mozzarella stick since I got here. I don't know if I have any more energy after 3 days on the green drink, but I suppose it can't hurt to pump myself full of vegetables and nutrients while I'm here. Lord knows I won't be getting much of either in H-town.
Plus, I need all the help I can get if I'm going to look good in those skinny jeans.
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