jenblossom’s Neighborhood

I don't really use this site.

Look for me here: http://www.knottyyarn.com

So after 14 hours of airport time punctuated by suddenly realizing I left my keys in the security tray at LAX, I landed at an Airport.  And the first thing that struck me was that I could be anywhere.

It was very early in the morning, so almost no one was talking, but hey i am in an Airport so that really doesn't help narrow my location.  I looked out the windows and saw the usual assortment of plane logos.  I am astounded that I still recognize as many as I do.  It was raining and bleh so I couldn't see sky lines.

The Signs were in French and English so I had narrowed down my location to Canada or Europe. Both are places I have visited multiple times so that was a good sign.

The rest of the airport looked shabby and rundown.  There were exposed pipes and drab color choices.  I ached to escape from the building.

I was sure I would know as soon as I saw the cars outside.  i was wrong.  Everything looked like all the cars I usually see.  Same boxy shapes with melted corners.  They did have the big yellow license plates so I was comforted that I had gotten on the right plane but I was starting to feel sad that someone had changed France since the last time I was here.

I heard people speaking french so I started to assume I was where i thought I went but I really wasn't sure.  I thought they had committees to make sure that no matter what part of France you were in, YOU WOULD KNOW YOU WERE IN FRANCE?

Finally fatigue and heavy traffic overwhelmed me.  I nodded off dreading a vacation in a McCity somewhere in Europe instead of a Parisian adventure I was promised.  I started mentally counting down to the time of my departure...

Suddenly I snapped awake.  Matt was screaming my name.  I was facing the window when my eyes popped open.  What greeted them made me smile like a mad man.

Beautiful buildings and restaurants with dirty orange neon telling me that there was wonderful food to be found within.  The streets were filled with equal parts cars, little boxy trucks and people of all sorts on scooters and motorcycles. and then I heard that beautiful sound...weee-honnnn wweeeee honnnnn WEEEE HONNNNN

A passing police siren.  A french siren!

Speaking of Sirens, I took note of the women of France. As I have mentioned before, there is something about the french woman that is infinitely more interesting to me than any other.  There was a woman riding a scooter in the rain yet she was wearing an ensemble that included these cute low heel almost pixie-like boots.  Young women walked the street in outfits that coincidentally matched the umbrella they held above them.  Older women walked in Business Sexy clothing that let you know exactly what gender they were without ever sacrificing their apparent ability to do business. 

And there was smoking.  Just a "matter of fact, I am having a coffee and I need to smoke to complete the look" cigarette  hung from the mouths of people.  Not in a haphazard manner but just sorta there in their mouths.

I don't know what was up with the airport.  Maybe it is a test to see if you really want to be here.  Maybe the French haven't gotten around to fixing it up.  Maybe they have just sacrificed it to the heathen outsiders that used it knowing they have much better things in the city.  All I know is I am in no hurry to get back to that aberration on the landscape of French culture.

And I don't mean "oh this was paradise built by the mob!"  I was walking thru the casino floor of the Venetian looking at all of these people desperate to give their money to all of these other people who...didn't look like they really cared.  Suddenly I wanted to see those stories.

Why do so many people choose to get married in a place called Sin City?  Why are they there to celebrate the end of being single, the beginning of holy union and the monotony of the end of their lives all in the same place?  Everywhere you turn are Brides and weird couples and solitary old people.  I mean when you see the military folks you kinda understand, they want to blow off steam and be as far from "Regulated Order" that their own lives represent.

But what brings everyone else back?  And why hasn't anyone documented that question and maybe some answers?

Then there is the other side.  The facilitators.  The dealers, the cabbies, the limo guys the ARMY OF BARTENDERS and the supply line of sex workers/"advertisers".  I know a lot of them train in the area and generally have chosen to be there.  You have these dealers who have 17, 18, 19 years listening to jackasses like me ask them what the rules say about hitting that 12 against a possible 16.  What are they getting out of life that a postal worker isn't?  Why aren't there more Casino Worker killing sprees?  Cocktail waitressing is something I always hear sucks?  Yet there are a bunch of them?  What is holding these people here?  It isn't like Los Angeles where you can fool yourself into thinking that you might still be discovered...I mean i suppose that you might marry some rich d00d that youmet when you brought him that Irish coffee during the hottest streak in his life.  I suppose.

I have no snappy finisher to this.  Just something I was thinking about all weekend, while Vegas was reminding me I was too old to be hanging out there.

But not old enough to be playing slots and kino all day.

I really need to do some writing but I am off to Vegas for the weekend. 

I have no real comment to make beyond that.  Well I do but it is nothing that I need to say on a public forum. 

So i have done almost a full year of not blogging.  I have to admit that my last blog kinda put me off the whole thing.  I still miss Rory.

Enough about that, though. 

So nowadays I have a crazy 2 year old.  I am writing pitches

Wait. 

I was writing pitches.  Then some d00d busted my car window at high noon and stole all my writing notes and my laptop.  I am sad to lose the laptop but it is devastating to lose my writing notes.  i had one of those 3 subject spiral binders with notes about everything from learning basic japanese to scheduling and producing TV movies to sketched out ideas for animated and kids shows.  No back ups for handwriting.  I guess I could start scanning pages after I write on them and then i would have backups in iPhoto.

I have gotten into some other pretty cool music, mostly thanks to NPR's All Songs Considered and My man Han

St Vincent's "Actor" is getting good play on my iPod as is Silversun Pickups and Autolux which inspired me to write two different tv show ideas.

Writing is weird.  Trying to see if I can really write for comics.  Working up some pitches now.  Then throwing out some emails and see if I can land me some of those fancy meetings at San Diego Comicon.  Taking a class at UCLA by Nunzio Defilippis on how to write comics.  I never felt comfortable with the format and I hope this helps me out. I haven't forgotten my TV writing but I hate talking about TV ideas on the Internerd.

Guess that is a good start.  Going to Vegas this weekend, which should be full of stories I will never re-tell until my deathbed.  heh.

Check out:
MUSIC
"The Strangers" - St Vincent
"God Is Love"  - Eleni mandell
"TIA" - K'Naan
"Here Comes Everybody" - Autolux ( I know this is an old track but I just got to it.)

TV
Southland - NBC - I can't sayitis great but I am surprised how much I love following the stories of the beat cops.  If the detectives disappeared (maybe not Regina King) I would not be sad.

The Unusuals - Argh more cops.  I think ABC felt burned by all their quirky shows and are hammering out the weirdness of this show.  But dammit the cast is so good I have to give it a chance.

Harper's Island. - CBS - I have no idea how this got on but it is such a faithful homage to 80s slasher movies and so goofy it is fun that I can't stop watching.  It's either the mother or everyone is killing everyone.

Reading
getting Things Done - I am all unorganized.  I find that when i follwo a chapters advice I feel a sense of relief.  then I mess everything up again and the anxiety returns.

the Road, No 1 Ladies Detective and Audacity of Hope - Books that have been sitting on my beloved Kindle for a while that i thought I should finally read.  Weirdly they all kinda flow together into a big meta story...

 

(There are a lot of steps to this. I don't expect just anyone to be able to replicate it.)

Be woken up at a semi-reasonable hour, by a rested and good humoured Bug, climbing into bed with you to snuggle.

Have time for family time and a leisurely shower before you have to leave the house.

Go, as a family, to the Bug's school, for the special Saturday with Mom & Dad, where he gets to show us all the cool work* he does. He's not quite four, and he's working on reading and spelling!

Have the Bug help you make lunch. French toast, apple and carrots. He picked the menu.

• Baby carrots = no prep.
• Apple = the Bug shows me that he can use the apple slicer all by himself**, like they do at school, then cuts the slices into smaller pieces (with his own not-sharp-enough-to-cut-himself knife)!
• French toast = the Bug mixes up the egg & milk, sozzles the bread around, puts it on the griddle, flips it when the first side is done, and serves it onto plates when it's ready.

Wake up and realize "Ohmygod, he's asleep! I have at least five minutes to myself!" Go downstairs and watch Mary Hicks on last night's Late Night with David Letterman. Remember why you love Bill Hicks so much, and appreciate Letterman's humility and sincerity in admitting he was an asshat fifteen years ago.

Knit and watch stupid tv while waiting for the Bug to wake up.
 
Realize you're supposed to be putting dinner in the slow cooker.

Start dinner, get almost done, and hear the Bug get up.

Diffuse potential tantrum brought about by the famous "I'm upset because I didn't have any dreams!" excuse.

Have the Bug help with the rest of the crockpot dinner preparations.

Play Bob the Builder with The Smartest and Funniest Boy in the World.

Watch a ridiculous TLC show about small children in pageants with the boy who plays princess with his two best girl friends at school.

Have a sit-down family dinner (which hardly ever happens at our house) where everyone likes what is being served (this is a miracle unto itself).

Don't kill the boy before bed time, no matter how much he doesn't listen. At bed time, read The Dangerous Alphabet, The Gas We Pass, and All About Scabs (yes, again).

Have a husband who is so awesome that he will go to the grocery store on a Saturday night, the night before the Stupidbowl, when it's sure to be teeming with people stocking up on chips and salsa and beer, so you don't have to.

Eat one of the fabulous Skinny Cow Truffle bars that your husband brought home, while watching home buying shows on TLC and looking for houses online. Then watch Flight of the Concords. Then interrupt the first five minutes of your husbands Battlestar Galactica episode with about thirty stupid questions.

At about midnight, leave your husband in peace with his scifi, and on your way to your own room, check on the Bug. See how sweet he looks, sleeping? Pull his covers up, put Elephante in the crook of his arm, give him a kiss, and tell him you love him.

Climb into bed, open up the laptop, and report to the internets on how awesome your kid is. Leave out the parts where you may have lost your patience and gotten a bit short with him. After all, you must be a good mom - how else coud you have such an awesome kid?

*"Work" being one of those Montessori terms. Yes, we are those people. It's a really good place for him and he is so happy there.

**"All by himself" in this case means "until it gets too hard and he needs help," which equals about halfway through the apple. Still, pretty damn impressive!

He looks good in all the fun sunglasses. Me, not so much.

bug eyes

Today was a pretty big day, as not only was it Election Day; not only was it my first time voting for a Democrat for president; not only was I able to vote for an African-American; not only was it my first time voting in Virginia; but it was also my first time involving Nrrd Boy in the process.

We've been talking about it a lot recently; about how there's a very important job that several people want, and that every 18 or older gets to help decide who gets the job. And with the massive amount of racial diversity he's been exposed to since moving here, he's very excited by the idea that someone who looks a little different than him will possibly now become President. And he loved the idea of accompanying me this morning and "helping" me vote.

So I woke up at 5 a.m., hoping to get ready a bit, wake him up at 5:30-ish, then walk down to our local community center/polling place that opens at 6 a.m., do my duty, then get him to school, and hit the Metro, with minimal disruption to my schedule.

Yeah, that didn't happen.

We got there just before 6 a.m., and there was already a line of more than 150 people stretched throughout the Lake Anne Plaza parking lot. Young, old, parents with kids, adults in suits, some in sweats, every color and walk-of-life you could imagine; and they were all in a rather jovial mood considering they had all been hoping to be in-and-out in a few minutes. But as that was obviously not going to happen, people were having a pretty good time talking and joking with each other, as a handfull of GOP and Democratic volunteers walked up and down the lines handing out sample ballots.

Just over 90 minutes later, Nrrd Boy and I made our way to our little cardboard polling booth, and I let him hold the pen with me as we filled in the oval for Obama and Biden. And even though we were just two people in a sea of voters there; in one of many polling places across Reston; in one of many towns across Fairfax County; in one of many counties through Virginia; in one of many states throughout the U.S.; I felt rather optimistic. Not just because of Obama's message of change and optimism, but also because of Nrrd Boy's enthusiasm and interest, and what that could mean for the future.

i finally posted again. i'd love it if you looked. and if you are undecided, not voting, or are voting yes? call. mail. sms. find me. i want to talk.

Sometimes, I forget that he mostly does pay attention to the words when there's music playing. This'll teach me not to listen to Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, God is in the House, while we're riding in the car...

Bug: Who is god?

Me: Well, different people believe different things about god. A lot of people believe that God made the whole world, and everything in it.

Bug: Well I think a little different about god.

Me: Really?! I think that's great. So what do you think?

Bug: I think god puts people in jail!

As we are leaving the grocery store, The Bug comments about the cashier "She has a mustache!" (She definitely did not.) The Bug and I have the following exchange:

Me: No, she doesn't. Generally, women don't have mustaches - men do.

Bug: But I don't. I'm a boy.

Me: That's right.

Bug: But when I grow up I can grow a mustache. I'll have a mustache and prickly hair and long fur, just like Daddy!

And then, of course, there was the after dinner political conversation, on this, the eve of the Presidential election...

Bug: How do you vote?

Me: Well, here where we vote, there are electronic voting machines. Daddy and I already voted, but next time there's an election we should make sure you can go with one of us to see how it works.

Bug: Yeah, I'm going to vote for Obama. My friends will all vote for McCain.

And yes, these conversations all happened today. Oi.