Half Birthday and Beyond… March 8, 2010

30 Days + 6 Months + 1 Day

***

So I just realized from typing my “life pedometer” intro that I’m halfway through my 30^th—or New Twentieth—year.

I’d sing happy “half” birthday to myself, but it is the eve of my dad’s crazy cancer treatment adventure so that little ditty could be a bit awkward.  Although, I did have cake…homemade carrot cake a colleague of my dad’s made for him since he’ll be purposely poisoned for a few weeks.  Isn’t modern medicine fun?

It’s so strange how life unravels.  No way did I think on my New Twentieth birthday in LA that 6 months later I’d be living at home (albeit temporarily), that my dad would be going through this again, and I’d be swimming through (even more) existential crises.  I thought I hit my limit of those beasts in my Old Twenties.  Though, hmm.  I do love my Woody Allen flicks…

I’m at my 30 year mid-point.  If my New Twentieth year were a screenplay this would mean I should have a big plot (life?) turn where the stakes are raised at any moment now.  I think perhaps mine came a little early.

Now I just have to figure out how to slam-dunk a “happy ending”…

The Weight of Facts. March 5, 2010

I’m obsessed with Roadtrip Nation, an organization that encourages young people to “Define Your Own Road in Life” instead of just signing up for a paycheck and living for the weekend.  Surprised?  Heheh.  They literally empower groups of college-aged kids and beyond to travel around in an RV for weeks at a time and interview leaders of all kinds who courageously followed their passion in life, no matter the obstacles.  If only I knew about this group when I was the Old Twenty…

I bought the book ROADTRIP NATION a couple of years ago and just realized that their PBS documentary series are available online:

http://roadtripnation.com/

I watched all of Season 6 in the last two days and I couldn’t have spent that time doing anything more worthwhile.  Motivation + Encouragement + Fearlessness = More than Priceless.

My favorite quotes?

“Whatever thing makes you happy you have to go chasing.  Nothing stops you from that thing.  And if you don’t know what it is you have to create space so you can find it.”

“Don’t be afraid to cast aside the weight of facts.”

Those are both by Christina Heyniger, founder of Xola Adventure Travel Consulting

Everything really does happen for a reason.  If i was in LA right now doing the day job hunt hustle there is no way I would’ve had the time and random creative inspiration to find these episodes and actually watch (all of) them.  My parents aren’t going to like it, but I have a renewed sense of going for “the dream.”  A dream I never had the courage to really pursue.

Hint: It doesn’t involve pantyhose, nor a desk.

My Mental Ingrown Toenail March 4, 2010

30 Days + 5 Months + 3 Weeks + 3 Days

***
I woke up at 4 a.m. with a pounding headache yesterday.  I was out of Advil and unable to find more than one generic ibuprofen in my parents’ medicine cabinet.  This headache-turned-neck AND headache lasted 36 hours, even after my special trip to the store for my over-the-counter drug of choice.

It wasn’t pretty.

As someone who suffered from frequent headaches since a very young age due to medical issues, a random throbbing isn’t normally cause for too much concern.  They’re as common as weekend-ruining pimples in my world.

However, I happened upon one of THREE copies of Louise Hay’s book You Can Heal Your Life in this house the other day.  I saw this particular old school copy on the front steps underneath my travel CD case and an important business card.  I’m not sure why mom lumped it with my things.  Was it a hint?  Or did she just want me to carry it up to the spare bedroom where all of her New Age-y books are?

I grabbed the pile and noticed on the binding that the author was Louise Hay.  I thought, hmm…I’ve seen her on “Oprah”!  Folks, I’m an Oprah fan and I’m not ashamed to admit it.  The woman’s got serious inspirational, power-punching mojo.

Ms. Hay’s book is a New York Times Best Seller she wrote all the way back in 1984, though it’s now gone through several reprintings.  It’s largely based on metaphysics (related to the growing interest of the Law of Attraction, or LoA as I’ll refer to it).

In my Old Twenty days I probably would’ve dismissed this book, but  I’ve read several books and articles on the LoA over the last few years and found them all very interesting and even temporarily life altering.  What hope there is in believing that you can completely change your life with simple thoughts or a piece of poster board plastered with cut-outs of beach houses and Brad Pitt!  Unfortunately due to the challenging and rigid thought processes I usually fall back into old habits pretty quickly, therefore sabotaging any real, long-term experiment to see if it really works.

Lately, though, with all that’s been happening with my family and in my personal and professional life, I found myself thinking about the LoA a lot and BOOM!  There was this random book on my “stuff to take up the stairs” pile.  Too.  Weird.

It turns out this copy was left by my mom’s best friend who just sold her house and moved to a Yoga-centered Intentional Community last Friday.  Hence why it was resting on said stairs.  I had no idea mom had two copies of her own, as I never heard of the book before.  Apparently one is on one of the coffee tables and the other is on its way to my sister (she requested it from mom weeks ago!).

The past few days I felt like a true cult member—I mean, convert!

LoA, despite my concern you may send me to the looney bin and/or poor house with all the positivity, mantras, and meditations you want me to execute, I will follow you no matter how annoying I am to everyone and everything!  I love myself and blah-blah abundance and…

…then I woke up with that darn headache.  A headache worse than one I’ve had in months.

In the book Louise Hay states:

“I believe we create every so called “illness” in our body.  The body, like everything else in life, is a mirror of our inner thoughts and beliefs.  The body is always talking to us, if we will only take the time to listen.  Every cell within your body responds to every singe thought you think and every word you speak.”

This is  hard to swallow.  However, when I looked up headaches it says:

“Invalidating the self.  Self-criticism.  Fear.”

Hmm.  Hard to swallow…and strangely true.  Those three things are probably the biggest invisible demons on my back, so to speak.  I envision my demons as animated Disney creatures, ugly, yet cute, that can be turned to “good demons” that smile and happy dance after a little second act soul shuffling.

I don’t know yet if I believe everything in the book.  I mean, does everyone with an ingrown toenail really have guilt about their right to move forward?  And is my dad’s cancer a result of deep hurt and resentment?

What I do know is that various negative patterns of thinking I seem to hold on to need to change.  Like, “guys are assholes” and “getting a good writing-related job is impossible.”  It’s not too crazy to believe that perhaps those attitudes aren’t quite helping things…and help is a light word for what we all need about now…

The Skinny (so far)… March 2, 2010

30 Years + 5 Months + 3 Week + 1 Day

***

I’m not sure exactly what I’ve gotten myself into.  I survived my first night of training, so I guess that counts for something.  However, as I left 2.5 hours after I was supposed to, kicking smashed soymilk boxes and cockroach-sized muffin crumbs in my path, I realized the sweet, chill coffee shop gig of my dreams—where I chit-chat with interesting local artists and have time to jot down brilliant ideas for future novels and screenplays in my Moleskin—only exists in romantic comedies.

Food service is not easy work.  There is lots of scrubbing, heavy lifting, and chemicals involved.  The place of my new, temp employment is very busy.  If you’re not waiting on a customer and whipping up five drinks you’re chopping a hundred bananas, answering the phone, washing dishes, brewing more coffee, wrapping baked goods, scooping ice cream, etc.  A great pace for clock-watchers, but not so much when you don’t know how to do a damn thing (right).  I mean, I included the espresso steamed milk container thermometer in the sanitation beast of a machine.  Apparently a big no-no.  Oops.  God love the The New Twenty.

It is not rocket science.  But it is some sort of weird science.

A list of the super yum items I got to sample:

-       Chipotle sweet potato soup

-       Espresso milkshake (orgasmic!!!!!!!)

-       Chai latte

-       Cappuccino foam with caramel

-       Homemade sports bar

-       Iced mocha latte

-       Chicken salad

Definitely a perk, though let’s hope I don’t get too pudged out.  As the charming 26 year-old stoner/artist who frenetically trained me said…

“I’m not kidding about worrying about my girlish figure.”

ME: “Why would you be worried about that?” (He’s built like Jude Law)

“Because let’s face it.  I’m not going to win over any ladies with my sparkling personality or my fat paycheck.”

I don’t even know when I go back in yet…but I do know that when I do, I won’t be wearing my fav skinny jeans…

Family Tied February 27, 2010

30 Days + 5 Months + 2 Weeks + 5 Days

***

Yesterday in the hospital cafeteria, while munching on a 1.5 star lunch of onion rings and Jell-O butterscotch pudding, my mom asked if I’d consider staying home through the summer to help while my dad is home for stem cell recovery.

I hesitated…then said I couldn’t answer that question at this time.

One week into my Mechanicsburg stay and I’m already getting antsy/stifled/lazy.  Of course this is to be expected.  I am removed from my life, my friends, and any real sense of independence.  The only privacy I can find is in dreams.

I’m not complaining.  I knew what I was signing up for in committing to these 2-3 months.  But 2-7?  Dear God…is it bad to hope that your sister needs knee surgery so she can come home and help out for awhile?  Just kidding.  Kind of…

Did I mention that my mom has so many clothing items that the closet and dresser in my childhood bedroom are full of her things?  More suitcase living por moi.  And in this house a frozen chicken patty, a Kraft single, and a roll is considered a good sandwich?

I love my family.  My dad’s health is the most important thing in the world to me right now.

Of course, my long-term sanity is a close second…!

Love in the Time of Tax Season February 25, 2010

30 Years + 5 Months + 2 Weeks + 3 Days

***

This morning I thought I’d blog today about how much I actually seem to miss my sister after our loooong week of bonding meets driving each other completely insane.

Then this afternoon I figured I should blog instead about how I DID get the coffee shop job (less than ten minutes after my interview, I might add) and that I start coffee guru training on Monday.  SCORE!

But then I did my taxes this evening, which put me in a feverishly foul mood since I apparently owe the government over $1,000 this go-around.  How did this happen?!?  My part-time earnings, thanks to our crap economy, were pathetic and I had to dip into my retirement fund—an early, penalty-inducing dip that was necessary to keep me from destroying my credit and wandering the Santa Monica streets.  I have no savings.  I can’t even afford health insurance.  I HAVE AN M.F.A. from a top school in my field!  THIS IS F-D UP!

Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Deep breaths...]

So instead of blogging about ANY of those things…

Here is a photo of the cards my dad has received in the last month:

Now that is LOVE.  In some form, anyway.  And I’d much rather go to bed stewing about that.

Coffee Shop Dreamin’ February 23, 2010

30 Years + 5 Months + 2 Weeks + 1 Day

***

Today I applied for a temp, part-time barrista job at a charming ma and pa, local-ish coffee shop.  Get an M.F.A. in Screenwriting, kids.  Oh, the places you will go!

I swear it’s not just for the free mochas and homemade breakfast cookies that would kick any stiff granola bar’s arse.  And it’s definitely not for the money.  My sister worked part-time as a baker there for a few months last year before she moved back to the west coast and believes barristas start at around $8/hour.  I haven’t made less than $12/hour since 2001.  Awesome…

So why do I want to drive across my childhood hometown amidst late winter snowy mixes, scrub crusty creamer containers, and work with cocky, suburban PA 17 year-olds?

Let me count the ways…

1)    Coffee is my crack.  Even just the smell of it lifts my spirits ten thousand times more than any shot of tequila.  A medium cup of coffee?  $1.75.  Learning how to make every heavenly concoction of my preferred poison?  PRICELESS.

2)    Coffee shops feel like home to me.  Bring on the froth machines and safe, soothing folk/pop café music.  That “noise” is part of my creative zen zone.  When I’m not at home, or at work (if I’m employed, which we all know hasn’t been the case lately), at the gym, or hitting the town for an evening out…I’m at a coffee shop, probably trying to write.

3)    While bartenders get front row seats to sloppy tales of drama, woe, testosterone, and sexual harassment, barristas safely eavesdrop on sober dramedies of everyday, messy life.  I broke up with a boyfriend at a coffee shop once and the couple at the table next to us concurrently discussed script notes on a porn.

4)    Filling out job applications seemingly written for high school drop-outs when your C.V. is 1.5 pages long on a good editing day is kind of challenging in an entertaining way.  Three lines for my complete work history?  What do I enjoy in my free time?  Have I ever been convicted of a felon?  This is so much more creative than a form cover letter…

5)    There is something to be said about a physical, service-oriented job.  It’s far from rocket science or a Pulitzer, but there is some kind of fulfillment in performing your routine tasks and not taking the job home with you when you toss off your apron.

6)    Aprons are fun!  Especially ones with pockets.

7)    It can’t hurt to pull in even a tiny bit of dough to put towards my bills.  Anything I can do right now to take some stress off my dad is in the “+” category.

8)    A reason to get out of the house.  Don’t get me wrong…my primary duty while living here is to help my parents as much as possible during dad’s treatment.  However, I do need some kind of escape from the “heaviness” I spoke of last night.  All of my high school friends moved away and there really isn’t much to do around here.  So even if it’s just 15 hours a week that I can work on something outside of my head and/or house…it’s a good thing.  I mean heck, while I’m oh-so-fabulous and fun to be around, heheh, I’m sure my dad will need an occasional break from me as well.

Will a coffee shop train a random, New Twenty writer who can only work for 2-3 months?  Probably not…but the owner did love my sister and while I haven’t worked in food service since the year 2000, I am not a convicted felon.  So at least I’ve got that going for me…

Heavy T February 22, 2010

30 Days + 5 Months + 2 Weeks

***

This blog is getting heeeeeavy.  Like bringing a pocket tissue pack to the movie theater or else be forced to destroy a sleeve on the only cashmere sweater you could afford this year, heavy.

What happened to complaining about outrageous LA dry cleaning price tags and foolish friend pseudo-crushes?!?

As a New Twenty gal I now know to cherish those moments of such utter blah-dom, for if all you have to worry about is a clean cocktail dress or an ambiguous flirtation…A-MEN, my friend!

I promise to try and keep some entries in the near future on the lighter side…for trust me, I have to escape the C-word vortex once and awhile as well.  For instance, my quirky friend S sent me a bright purple sea cucumber-shaped koosh toy with eyeballs and a colorful glow ball inside “just because.”  I could talk for at least five sentences about all that is right and oh-so-wrong about that.

However…

I spent most of this afternoon reading the book, Autologous Stem Cell Transplants by Susan K. Stewart.  It’s a comedy.  (Just kidding.)

The doctors gave this 176 page reference to my parents so they truly understand what they’re in for in the next 6 or so months.  I say “they’re” because while my dad will be the one poked, prodded, and anything else the medical profession can dream up, my mom, as caregiver numero uno, will do plenty of heavy lifting herself.  Of course while I’m home during the next couple of chemo treatments and stem cell harvesting I’ll be pitching in as much as possible as well.

Due to my father’s extreme loyalty and commitment to certain music performances, as well as his role as primary breadwinner (a role that has extended further than normal due to certain artsy (me) and maturity-challenged (my bro) offspring…HELLO, guilt!!), his actual stem cell treatment doesn’t start until May 26^th.  This is a gamble…one some people (and his doctors) would call him a complete nutcase for even tempting.  Delaying treatment could be fine…or the cancer could come back in a very different (and potentially worse) way, in which then the transplant might not be possible and the cancer untreatable.

This is TERRIFYING.

But what can you do?  My dad is the kind of guy who will always put people he cares about first, even if that means putting his own health—no, life—in danger.  Even if it makes no sense to anyone else.  WE WANT HIM HERE.  In his mind, he’s doing the right thing.

And?  My dad is not a gambler.  He gets funny about wasting money on scratch lotto tickets for stocking stuffers.  But he won the C-word lottery once…

Like I said…heeeeeeavy.

Time for a Judd Apatow movie.  Stat!

HOME. February 21, 2010

30 Days + 5 Months + 1 Week + 6 Days

***

So we made it.

We’re back in PA, “The State of Independence.”

Our favorite welcome sign was New Mexico’s, “The Land of Enchantment.”  Speaking of New Mexico, check out the poor, dead moose we saw in the back of a NM pick-up truck:

Crazy.

My back feels shattered.  I suppose I can cross “truck driver” off my fallback career list.

I cried at least five times today.  This is going to be harder than I thought.

TRIPPIN. February 16, 2010

30 Years + 5 Months + 1 Week + 2 Days

***

I wiped what felt like poisonous tears with an In-N-Out napkin as I drove across the Mohave Desert.  Somehow the basic eye make-up I wear every day decided to take a trip, too…to my eyeballs.

Mirages are common in the desert.  Not turning into googly-eyed Franken-chick.  Sulking and chillaxing shotgun was not an option.  It’s going to be a long four days.

Thanks to unexplainable CA traffic in the wee afternoon hours we only made it to Kingman, AZ.  A cop followed me around as we drove up and down a main drag debating between such delights as the Comfort Inn vs. Travelodge.  I think he thought I was on something…

It’s called, “This All Sounded Like A Good Idea in Theory-ITUS”.

I have no idea when I’m getting up tomorrow morning since my sister and I fought about–errm…”debated”it too many times tonight to remember.  She’s an early riser…me not so much.  What was I thinking?????

All I know for sure now?  No more eyeliner until Pennsylvania.