Julia's Mexico City

Back To School

It's Labor Day weekend and I'm looking at next week like Back To School starts on Tuesday. I've had a great summer, traveling, blogging, meeting new people, being very social and out there. These last two weeks I've spent like I was 17 again, squeezing out my summer vacation as much as possible -- sleeping late, staying up late, watching tv, going to movies, and doing a minimum of "work" on my personal projects. It'sbeen an interesting time as I've wrestled with myself: half LOVING my "sleep late/lazy summer vacation" and half loathing myself for Not Getting More Done. Why do I punish myself for living the life I've always wanted? (ie freelance and not working all the time?) Why are people so weird? And by people I mean me?

Anyway, I am actually looking forward to getting up early again and focusing on more specific creative ventures. I've done much to move Safety Graphic Fun forward and will continue to do so because I really love it. There is also much fun writing to do. FUN! But as any of you who are writers know, writing can be challenging at times too. 

And while September will be mostly personal work, there will be a bit of paying work as I get ramped up for the new job that will shoot in October/November. I'm pleased, as ever, to get paid to travel to another country to work. It all became real to me as I got a phone call and email from the production office in Belfast asking for info for my work Visa. Oh yeah, I'm going out of town! I have to start thinking of clothes I'll need and how much to pack and etc etc. I'll also have to remember that old film biz adage: "It's LOcation, not VAcation," but that doesn't mean it's all work and no play...

And in regard to actual school, here is a photo of Jen's Bench at Seabury (the one in the middle):

Have I mentioned I love Seabury? I believe they keep the reflecting pool and fountain filled and working all the time now. I wish it were when we were there. I want to just slip into this cool and relaxing picture and rest under the jacaranda tree, listening to the gentle splash of the fountain. Ahhhh. I always loved going back to school in Makawao.

Dreamland

I wrote the following to my mom this morning, and as I was writing about it, wanted to post it here as well.

Last night I dreamt I was in a HUGE craftsman style house -- 3 or 4 times bigger than G. Jane's Makawao house (which was a 3 story, 5 bedroom, huge old house). I was someone's guest and I knew they had a baby (maybe it was Jen's? or Cynthia's?) and I knew the baby hadn't been seen for a while. I was walking down an upstairs hallway, going down to the ground floor, there were friendly dogs hanging out with me and as I went down the stairs I heard very faint crying. I stopped and thought, hmmmm, it's not my baby, I shouldn't do anything. But then I knew that there was no one else so I paused and went closer to the doors and could tell the baby had been crying and neglected for a long time that day. So I went into the amazingly furnished room through the large glass french doors and the baby (I think boy) stood up in his very fashionable designer crib painted in period greens and browns with fancy pillows and trimmings. He was crying and crying and crying and my heart just melted. I went right over and reached out to him. He didn't reach back, just kept wiping his eyes and I picked him up and comforted him and hugged and hugged him and started to take him downstairs with me. 

I woke up feeling like -- uh oh, my creative babies are feeling very neglected and are crying out to me!

And no mistake that it was a "crafts" man house.

No surprise as yesterday on NPR they mentioned a short story contest they are having this summer and when I heard that I knew instantly what the story was that I would enter. It's been sitting in rough form in my inbox on my desk for months -- a year?  More? I then sorta half blew off the idea of working on it and sending it in. Until this morning, after that dream. So I got up and typed up the handwritten notes and will work on it and I will send it in.

Funny thing -- the story is based on a dream too!

Time to blow the cobwebs out of my imagination and get it sparked and running again.

Body Surfing As Metaphor

When I would go visit my dad and stepmom and sisters in the summer on the Big Island we would often go to the beach at Hapuna. Back then there was only the Mauna Kea Hotel at the Kawaihae side and those funky A-frame cabin things you could camp in near the parking lot. It was a great beach for body surfing though it was occasionally scary for me as I was only about nine or ten when we started going and when I felt like a strong enough swimmer to go out into the surf. 

Most of the time it was fine, but every once in a while you'd get pushed under in the middle of a set, tumbling and swirling in the foam. Then you'd come up gasping for breath only to see another wave pounding down at you and under you would go again, eyes wide open but seeing nothing but foam and feeling the wave go over. Up again to snatch more air and another wave was coming right at you, down again into the tumble. Once more up and sucking in air hoping the set was past so you could catch your breath and ride a few of the easy waves. Or depending on how you felt, get out of the water for a while and just lie on the steady, solid warm sand. 

2008 was like that for me and Kurt. Barely coming up for breath before the next wave hit. It was really scary at times. I didn't know if I could hold my breath that long or if I could find the surface again. Yet, just like at Hapuna, I always did. I don't know if having been pushed under so many times gives you confidence. Fear is still there when you are out of control in the turbulent waters, but knowing what it feels like helps you to know that you will come up for air again, more than likely. The survival instinct and that way nature is always trying to balance things are big helps.

2008 was a long bad set of nasty waves. There's been some easier, gentler waves in the last six months, but I can see that big set outside. There is turbulence ahead but I am better at diving under the waves and getting a breath before diving under the next one but you can never predict how a wave will be. I just hope this set is not as big as it looks. 

Never take your eyes off the ocean.

Seeing "Up" While Grieving

**Please don't read this blog post if you haven't seen the movie and don't want any bit spoiled for you.**

It was tough. 

The movie itself is great, funny and gorgeous to look at. 

But I highly recommend if you are in mourning of some kind to know that (spoiler alert) it is about death and grief and working your way up from those things.

The first 15 minutes had me silently sobbing behind my 3d glasses. Then the more typical Pixar movie took off and there was much fun and laughter. Then toward the end when the old man reads through the adventure book I was totally losing it again. We got home and I was doing the dishes and thinking about that part and the message that Ellie left for him about how much she loved her adventure and for him to go on a new one. It's wonderful but still so brutally sad because whatever adventure you go on next, you want to share it with that person more than anything.

My sister didn't like to travel much, but she seemed interested in all the places I went or was planning to go. And I always knew she would like to get postcards from me. There are still so many adventures I have yet to go on and it's hard to think about not sharing that with her. And that just makes me so sad.

Go see Up. Just be prepared if you are grieving. 

My Christmas List is Too Short This Year

I just sat down to start figuring out what to get for everyone and Jen's not on my list. 

The idea of officially grieving for a year or at the very least, expecting to grieve for a year, is so true and necessary. The year of events and holidays and birthdays is hard and sad and tough.  Her birthdays is coming up too. 

2009 can not come soon enough. The grief will never end, just change, but there is something about getting out of this horrible year that makes me feel better.

Working Working

It's been busy.  Mostly I've seen only the inside of my office and the other offices that make up our group. Essentially I'm working as a combination of HR, Facilities Manager and Buyer. When you work on a movie, it doesn't mean you have a creative job. 90% of my time has been in interviews. The only nice part is when you get to say "Hi, you got the job."  (Slightly tempered with "Sorry, it's just not the right fit for us.")

I'm just working one day at a time, not letting the entire thing overwhelm me. I will continue to ask for help when I need it and will learn everyone's name probably just in time for my job to be over.

In other news, I didn't walk a long walk last weekend. I took the day off to rest my body. We also had friends in from out of town who we saw Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. It was refreshing and a really nice distraction. I was telling them about what I was doing at this job and one of them commented that I'm a boss-for-hire. This is true.

Last Wednesday night Kurt and I went to the Writer's Guild Foundation to hear a panel of Emmy nominated writers talk about their craft and their shows and how they got to where they were. It was inspiring and a lot of fun. Larry Wilmore, the Senior Black Correspondent on the Daily Show and Emmy winning writer on his own part, was the moderator. The writers were Kirk Ellis (who wrote John Adams and won the Emmy), Bryan Fuller (who wrote Pushing Daisies and who lost the Emmy to Tina Fey), Matt Weiner who created Mad Men and one of his co-writers Robin Veith and Danny Strong who wrote Recount (but lost to Kirk Ellis, I think). I met Kirk Ellis afterward and had a quick chat with him, he was very nice.

Now it's a new week and I'm taking it as slowly as I can.

Adding Even More Insults The Inuries

Seriously?  

2008 S U C K S.

No two ways around it.  

Kurt's car got stolen some time last night.  Gone.  Poof.

That leaves us with his mom's Buick.  Grateful to have any car now, but that is beside the point.

Going to check all our smoke alarms now.

The Hanged Man (Not Quite What It Sounds Like)

There is a tarot card called The Hanged Man.  See?  (Click for bigger)

In general this card represents letting go, reversal, suspension and sacrifice. From the website Learning The Tarot:

The Hanged Man is one of the most mysterious cards in the tarot deck. It is simple, but complex. It attracts, but also disturbs. It contradicts itself in countless ways. The Hanged Man is unsettling because it symbolizes the action of paradox in our lives. A paradox is something that appears contradictory, and yet is true. The Hanged Man presents to us certain truths, but they are hidden in their opposites.
The main lesson of the Hanged Man is that we "control" by letting go - we "win" by surrendering. The figure on Card 12 has made the ultimate surrender - to die on the cross of his own travails - yet he shines with the glory of divine understanding. He has sacrificed himself, but he emerges the victor. The Hanged Man also tells us that we can "move forward" by standing still. By suspending time, we can have all the time in the world.
In readings, the Hanged Man reminds us that the best approach to a problem is not always the most obvious. When we most want to force our will on someone, that is when we should release. When we most want to have our own way, that is when we should sacrifice. When we most want to act, that is when we should wait. The irony is that by making these contradictory moves, we find what we are looking for.

This is what my life is these days.

Baby Pictures

Kur and MARE! sent pictures of their beautiful bundle of joy.  (Seriously, is anyone surprised that they created such a perfect baby?)  I'm not posting their photos, but this picture gives you a fraction of an idea of how cute Kur is as a dad.

Lion Snuggle!

I Think God Has Sent Me A Sign

Things have been a bit nuts in my life lately...in case you are just joining the blog...and for the last two weeks or so I've noticed a slightly poopy smell out our bedroom window.  (We put the summer time window fan in earlier in May.)  That spot is always a tiny bit damp (very shady, near sprinklers) and with all the additional live stock in the neighborhood and other much bigger issues to deal with, plus being gone most of last week, I didn't think much of it. Until this morning.  I was in the bedroom, and smelled that smell again, not major, but odd.  So I continued folding laundry, thinking about toilet habits of raccoons and opossums and then I remembered two key things:

1)  About 2 or 3 weeks ago when I flushed the toilet, there was a bubbling sound in the bathtub, but nothing came up through the tub drain.  Everything seemed to be working fine, so I forgot about it.

2)  When we last had a major back-up a couple of years ago, the plumber installed the emergency release drain that would make sure that if the main drain were backed up (due to roots in the old clay pipes), the toilet and bathtub would not become the poop overflow area.  

Just see if you can guess where that emergency release is?  (Say it with me)  Right outside our bedroom window.  D'OH!!  So I went out to look more closely.  What did I find?  POOP!!! 

I started laughing really hard.  Because really, that's all you can do, that and call the plumber.  In the grand scheme of things, sister dying, stepdad almost dying, moving Kurt's mom to LA after (almost) her 90 year life in Texas, (did I mention sister dying...) what is a little poop in the front yard?  The neighbors can't see it, I think only we could smell it and the azalea bush has never looked better.  Okay, I made that last part up.

So I take it as a sign from god:  Time to deal with your own shit!

That's what I'm doing from now on.  Taking care of my own shit.

(And no, I didn't take a photo.)