You Can't Go Home Again

Next installment of the Blog-A-Week Series

First, just let me say how proud I am of myself for keeping up this Blog-A-Week thing for as long as I have. Most weeks, it's the only "fun" writing I do. I'm hoping that changes in the new year; I hope I do more non-work-related writing, that is.

They say you can't go home again, but of course you can. Just buy a ticket or get in the car and drive, and boom, you're there. I guess what they mean is, when you get there, you realize it isn't home anymore. And maybe that it hasn't been home in quite some time. Some people don't like this and hang on to the old stuff as tight as can be. Some people take it in stride, just accepting whatever they find when they get where they're going.

I haven't lived in my parents' house in more than 16 years. In some ways, it will always be my home because it is the home of my childhood, but it hasn't been my residence years. Sure, there are still remnants of my life here: a drawerful of high school certificates and awards, a bulletin board of scraps of paper that seemed important once, pictures on the fridge, but the things I find most pleasing about this home, are the new things. The things that reflect how much things have changed: a copy of the email I sent telling my folks what my fall schedule was (hanging on the fridge), the picture of me that sits on the piano of me at the Ph.D. hooding ceremony, the little chairs and toys that belong to my niece. These are the things that make me happy. The stuff from my old life? That time is over and gone and there's no use in even looking at that old stuff anymore. I should use this trip home to clean some of that stuff out. Maybe I will, if I'm feeling industrious.

You can't go home again, in the same way you can't step in the same river twice. But who wants to step in the same river twice anyway? Isn't it more fun to see what's new instead of dwelling on what's old? Isn't it better to have a life where things grow and change and evolve than one where everything stays the same? Sure, it's disappointing to see all the old places where I used to eat replaced by other stores. But that's life.

All the really important things like family and support and love don't stay exactly the same, but they do stay. And I think that's the important thing.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List for home

Here is a top ten list inspired by my visit home for Christmas:

Top Ten Foods of Home

1. Fusili and mom's sauce. I ate this upon arriving at my parents' house late Tuesday night. The pasta was yummy and the sauce was to die for. I miss mom's sauce all year round, and mostly eat sauce out of a jar, so it was a real treat.

2. Chinese take-out. It's what we're eating tonight. I can get good Chinese food in L.A. now (when I first moved there, I was clueless as to where to find the good stuff), but there's nothing like eating the good NY stuff out of the white take-out boxes at the dining room table.

3. Stuffed mushrooms. This is a holiday tradition, made for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I made them for the first time for Thanksgiving this year, and it was like stealing fire from the gods. Absolutely delicious.

4. Eggplant parmagiana. This is my grandma's specialty. Sometimes EP can get really heavy and greasy because you need to fry it up, but my grandma's recipe requires a draining step that makes the eggplant light and fluffy. It's practically like cake.

5. Fresh mozzarella from Iavarone's. Very soft and flavorful. Nothing like a slice of fresh mozz on a piece of semolina bread (maybe with a tomato). I could eat a ton of this.

6. Pizza from Umberto's. This is going to be tomorrow's dinner. No visit home is complete without take-out from our favorite pizza place. The sauce is magnificent. Mom likes extra sauce, but I'm good with the regular kind. They make a helluva Sicilian pie as well. Yum.

7. Elio's frozen pizza. This is best as a midnight snack food. They don't sell this kind of frozen pizza in L.A. It's the kind of pizza they used to serve at birthday parties at the roller rink. It's not real high quality, but it's awesome nonetheless. Best when overcooked a bit and kind of burnt on top.

8. Entenman's holiday cupcakes. Also something you can't get in L.A. Yes, we have a little bit of Entenman's, but for some reason, they don't sell the cupcakes. These monstrosities of sugar are made with yellow cake, a layer of chocolate on the top and a swirl of icing to match the season. Valentine's ones have cinnamon jelly beans, Christmas ones have little sugar trees, St. Patrick's Day ones have little sugar shamrocks.

9. Ham wrapped around a breadstick. Now that I'm eating pork again, I can enjoy this staple of holiday parties. The good cold cuts from M&M's (in Floral Park) don't hurt, either. The recipe? Take a slice of ham and wrap it around a breadstick. Eat. Savor.

10. Log Cookies. Mom makes these buttery-riffic cookies from a recipe she got from my Aunt Lee. They've got butter, crushed walnuts, and powdered sugar. They are fabulous, and I think of my beloved Aunt and godmother every time I eat one. Which is a lot at Christmas.

Christmas-y Things

I'm combining this week's regular entry with this week's DecaAwesome List. I'm not doing it because I'm so busy. No, no! For once, I am sitting on my butt with not too many things on my "to-do" list. I gave my last final today and I've done most of my grading. I'll be handing everything in on Monday and then I'll be free to enjoy my week at home. So, I'm actually being a bit lazy for once. Since I got back home after school, I've been sitting around mostly. Watching TV and reading. Bliss and Heaven. I was asked to go out with some friends tonight, but I honestly just want to veg out on the couch. So I will.

Here goes. This week's list with possibly more explanation than usual.

1. Panera. An AMAZING bakery that T suggested I try. Not only did I eat an unbelievable bagel there (although NYC's Ess-a-Bagel still holds the title), I bought a loaf of semolina bread. I know that doesn't sound like something crazygood, but it's hard as hell to find a loaf of semolina in this town. After eating there, I went home, opened a fresh mozarella, heated up some sauce, and it was like Sunday morning at Nanny's. Score.

2. iTunes. I am putting together a recital for March, and I now have recordings of the stuff I'm considering. Easy as pie. I just searched for it, downloaded it, and soon it will be sync-ed onto my iPod. All from the couch. No wonder our country is so fat. But the convenience! The convenience!

3. Love, Actually. This was a favorite of me and my ex, and I was terrified that I wouldn't be able to watch it again. Bad memories, good memories, who the hell can tell which are worse? But I'm pleased to say that it's on right now (cut to ribbons on TBS, unfortunately), and I'm enjoying it a lot. Hey, it's a funny movie. And touching and sweet and adorable. And you know what? Even though I'm sort of anti-relationship right now, it's still freaking charming.

4. Yes Man. Saw it last night and I liked it very much. Once again, Jim Carrey's character needs the love of a slightly nutty free spirit to help him find life again, just as in one of my absolute favorite movies: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Similar idea in another fave (although this one without Jim C.): Stranger Than Fiction. I love these movies for many reasons, but I like 'em a lot because I am a slightly nutty free spirit. I just went back and read over this and "slightly nutty" spoonerized into "nightly slutty" in my tired brain. Yeah.

5. Colin Firth. He's funny and charming and English. And I love his story line in Love, Actually. 

6. Rock Band. I know I put this on weeks ago, but I just had a Christmas party and it is the best party activity evers. Which brings me to #7...

7. When you have a party that you think is going to be lame, but which turns out to be really, really fun. It happened Thursday. I invited a heap of people and everyone kept canceling, and  it felt like it was going to be the world's worst party. Or that I would be sitting in a party dress (like I wear those) on my couch with just my roommate to hang out with, and no guests coming over. But that is not what happened. It's not like hundreds of people came over or anything, but that's probably better because my place is not huge, but just the right amount of folks came over to make it awesome.

8. Pomegranate candles from Illuminations. Illuminations is a candle store (are they on the east coast?) and around the holidays, they sell this amazing-smelling candle called pomegranate. It is seriously the best-smelling candle, maybe ever.

9. Cold orange slices. I love orange juice so much, and getting the juice right from the orange slice is amazing. Especially when the orange is ice cold. It's better than a popsicle. Better than candy.

10. The discovery of a new Chinese restaurant. On Thursday, it was absolutely imperative that C and I stop for noodles. The closest place was one I had gone by a million times, but never ate in. And you know what? The lo mein was transcendent. I'm going to go there more often. It's pretty near school and it's a decent and reasonably-priced place. Did I mention the lo mein?

DecaAwesome List Number Five

For the week ending 12/13/08.

1. Sunshine. This movie is incredible. It's gorgeous. The score is beautiful. And it's suspenseful and mind-blowing, yet still somehow so believable. WOW.

2. End-of-semester parties in lieu of classes. You get to eat cupcakes and cupcakes are great. Also, you don't have to teach.

3. Getting the stressful thing overwith. I'm so glad the faculty recital is over. It was stressing me out.

4. Candy Cane Jo-Jos. Trader Joe's Christmas cookies. They're like doublestuff oreos with ground up candy canes in 'em. Transcendent.

5. Ricky Gervais. I saw his comedy special the other day, and I was freaking crying, I was laughing so hard. The whole thing about Humpty Dumpty? I just lost it.

6. Finishing up Christmas cards. I'm almost done. Four left!

7. Poinsettias. I can actually have one this year.

8. Straws. They make any drink--even water--more festive.

9. Magazines. I bought two this week and got one in the mail. When I read them, it feels like I'm on vacation already.

10. The marimba. Saw a great piece for solo marimba last night at LACO. What an amazing instrument.

Moments Only You Remember

Next Installment of the Blog-A-Week Series

Seeing as how it's Christmas time and all, we tend to focus on those memorable moments. If you have kids, you're probably even more concerned about creating memorable moments for the little ones: going to visit Santa, watching a tree lighting ceremony, making sure you get a photo of every happy surprised expression on Christmas morning. And sure, I remember those things really well from my childhood. I do remember all the moments I'm supposed to remember. I remember the Christmas mornings and the vacations, and I remember the summer movies and the picnics on the beach and the January birthday parties.

But I also remember lots of other things too. Each one of us has memories of stuff that probably no one else remembers, not even the other people involved. Plenty of those memories are about annoying things; events that pissed us off when no one else was around to hear us vent. But I'm focusing on the good memories. The happy ones of those unexpected (or even ridiculously typical) things that stick with us forever. Like the time Mom took me out for breakfast after an appointment at the orthodontist, rather than taking me right back to school. Or the time Dad, M, and I played stickball in the front of the house and when we got back inside Mom had made us pudding? Or what about that horrible winter day on the subway when I couldn't take the cold a minute longer and suddenly I heard the sweet sound of steel drums from the subway platform? Or the time I laughed so hard at Gum Ying, I nearly threw up. Or the time I made Holly laugh so hard that she indeed threw up in out kitchen sink. (She probably remembers that one.)

Like Green Day so eloquently said, we "take the photographs and still frames in [our] mind." And those pictures are of the big events: birthdays, weddings, Christmases, family reunions. But the photo album in my mind also has plenty of every day stuff that really and truly makes up life.  You only get one birthday a year, but you have to get out of bed and live on the other 364 days too. Christmas comes but once a year, but the opportunity to make memories happens every single day. 

So fill up your mental photo album with a snapshot of the unexpected kindness someone showed you on a Tuesday, a picture of that encouraging email your friend sent, a memory of some little miracle that maybe no one else in the world will remember. These moments will become even more treasured than the birthday party that every one remembers, because they're just yours. And you can keep them forever.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List Number Four

The DecaAwesome List for the week ending December 6th.

1. Self-help books. God, I am so awful, but I am finding a couple of them really, truly helpful.

2. Creativity. Been thinking a lot about my story, and I have some interesting ideas. Also, my roommate is a composer and it's rad to hear him write music.

3. McIntosh Apples. Yummy and sweet. Best. Apples. Ever.

4. Cinnamon toast. Bread, butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Tell me a way you can combine those ingredients that's not effing delicious.

5. Gettin' shit done. I worked like a dog most of Thanksgiving weekend, but holy crap, did I produce.

6. Pure Citrus. It's a room spray, but it smells like fresh oranges. It's brilliant.

7. On Demand. Ordered and saw The Incredible Hulk tonight without leaving the couch.

8. Ruthless efficiency. I achieve it sometimes, and I'm pretty close to it these last two weeks.

9. Honesty. I'm trying out a new thing: being honest about how I feel about things. Today was kinda shitty, so when people asked me how I was (I mean, really asked me, not just howya doin'), I told them: I'm okay, but not great. And lately, when I've felt anti-social, I've just told folks, look, I can't be around people now. It's going to be a real test to see if I can keep this up around my family. I always like to act like everything is fine, so we'll see how honest I can be. It's a good thing, though, so I want to keep doing it.

10. Nuts in the shell. I bought unshelled nuts for the dessert course of my Thanksgiving. Only a few nuts got eaten, so that leaves a bowl and a half of nuts for eatin'. I've discovered that brazil nuts are pretty delicious, and that walnuts aren't just for cookies anymore. Also, the unshelled nuts just scream holiday to me. As does the case of cuties I bought.

Bonus #11. Cuties. Small, cute, and sweet. I am what I eat, neh?*

*"Neh" is an expression from Ender's Game that roughly translates as, "don't you think so?" 

Existential Turkey Crisis

The next installment of the Blog-A-Week Series 

(I took Thanksgiving week off. Hope y'all don't mind.)

Thanksgiving of 2007 was a tough one. I had an existential crisis of sorts. One of those third-life crises jammies. One of those post-twentieth century postmodern navel gazing alone-in-a-crowd sort of thingies. The day itself was fine. I ate good food, got good news (J and K announced they were pregnant), and spent time with good people. But, I started to feel a little detached from my moorings, like I wasn't really a part of what was happening. I was upset about that for quite some time.

This Thanksgiving was different.

Still good food (Best. Turkey. Ever.) and good people, but the circumstances had changed quite a bit. It wasn't so much that I felt more in touch with the people I was with. It was that I felt more in touch with myself. I'm not saying the day didn't have its tough moments. But there were far more good ones than bad ones.

It's going to be a weird holiday being single for the first time in ten years. And, if I may give you some perspective on the issue, this will be only the second Christmas since I was seventeen where I'm a single gal. Now that is an odd thought. It's been seventeen years since I was seventeen, so that's a lot of damn holidays I spent as half of a whole. A lot of New Year's Eves kissing the same few people. A lot of Christmases I spent way too much money on gifts for my significant other. Signing cards from me and someone else. Well, guess what. I already made out about half of my Christmas cards, and they all just say, "Love, Hero." And you know something? That is okay.

Being single screws up the whole "Secret Santa" thing the crew had going for a bunch of years. But that's okay too. Life is change. We'll figure out a new way to exchange gifts. I've upset the apple cart, but I was always the rebel like that. Or so my tattoos would have you believe.

The people who are the most unhappy are the ones who cling to the stuff that has to change. So, while it hasn't been easy, it's been good. Good for me to change and grow and become a stronger person. I'm experiencing growing pains, I think. It's going to be a heck of a holiday season, though, I can tell you that. I'm growing so damn much, I won't be able to fit into my old winter coat anymore. Oh well, out with the old and in with the new. Life, coat, everything.

~Hero

DecaAwesome List Number Three

Here is the DecaAwesome List for the week ending 11/22/08.

1. Simply Limeade. You wouldn't think that limeaid could be this delicious, but oh, it is. It. Is.

2. My sister. M truly rules the school. She sent me MST3K DVDs for Thanksgiving because she is amazing and she loves me.

3. MST3K. Keeps nerds entertained for hours.

4. Psych. Also a gift from my sis that I am only now getting to enjoy. I should probably be sleeping, but I'm watching another episode.

5. Super fluffy hotel beds. Like sleeping on a cloud. A king-sized cloud.

6. Sap. The closer I get to the holidays, the sappier I get. In my mind, I'm making lists of things I'm thankful for. I'm like that.

7. Red Trolley. San Diego's microbrew. Delicious.

8. Crossword puzzles. I love these things a lot.

9. Short nails. I like to keep my nails plenty short. Looks neat.

10. My friend Di. Who I will see on Saturday. She is a fine artist, a writer, a great Mom, and seriously one of the coolest people I know. She's like, top 5 for coolness.

Drabbles for Christmas!

Part IX in the Blog-A-Week Series

I'm a little early this week. I am in San Diego at a conference, and I will likely be too busy tomorrow and Saturday to get this done, so I am doing it now. I don't have much time until the next event (the adjunct faculty recital in which C and K are performing), so this is gonna be a short one.

You might actually think this is a little bit of a cheat, but I am offering something, so you might just forgive me.

I have lots of friends and I would love to give all of them presents for Christmas, but since going out and buying people stuff is just not going to happen, I offer a service instead: Drabbles.

A drabble is a very short story, about 100-200 words, and I will write one for you! You write what's called the "prompt." Choose the characters, the situation, the time period, and/or an object, and it is my job to weave them all into a coherent (or semi-coherent) little story.

In the past, people have requested to put themselves in stories, or have chosen historical figures as characters:

KC (my friend), Thomas Jefferson, hiking, an attractive woman

Some try their darndest to make it tough:

Oscar Wilde, rabbit stew, the Moon landing

Some feature television characters or people from books:

Percy and Penelope (characters from Harry Potter), ribbon

Arthur Dent, wheel of cheese

Get the idea? You can also request a style of writing: romance, film noir, action, whatever.

Or, you can make your request very abstract and see what happens (see Arthur Dent, wheel of cheese).

Whatever you decide, I will take your drabble requests and get them to you by Christmas. It is my gift to you. If you want me to write a character that I don't know, I might ask you some questions. Either reply to this blog or email me directly, and I will get on the case!

DecaAwesome List Number Two

This is the DecaAwesome list for the week ending November 15, 2008. In no particular order:

1. Dictionary.com. This is a website where you can look words up, and I use it all the damn time. I call it up on my Blackberry and look up words to find out their etymology or how to pronounce them. It's awesome.

2. Pandora.com. My roommate showed me this site. It's like a customized radio station, of sorts. You put in a band you like and it classifies their music and then suggests other bands or artists that do similar things. In a lot of cases, it'll show you people you already know, but it will also introduce you to folks you might never have heard of otherwise. It's probably run by a bunch of cave-dwelling musicologists.

3. Patrick Waburton. His cartoon voices, especially Brock Sampson on Venture Brothers, are so frickin' high-larious. His voice is just...so funny. Also, it was his birthday yesterday. Happy Birthday, Patrick!

4. Rieslings. Yummy white wine.

5. Not teaching middle school. I'm thankful for this one every day. I get to teach college now and it's way more fun.

6. Lush Bath Products. They're great products and they have labels that say who made them so it's all very personal. And also, they smell like chocolate and strawberry and grapefruit.

7. CocaChicken. This is a dish that T makes. It's chicken cooked for a long time in ketchup and coca cola and jebus, it is delicious. The chicken is so tender, you can cut it with a fork.

8. Iron Man. Yep. Another Robert Downey, Jr. movie. Saw it in On Demand last night. I had already seen it on the plane to Singapore, but it was way better on my pimp TV.

9. My lap desk. Keeps me from burning my legs while I'm putting in long hours editing and writing.

10. Venture Brothers DVDs. I own the first two seasons now and I've already watched all of season 1. It's good for what ails ya. 

The Most Powerful Person in the World

Part VIII in the Blog-A-Week Series

When I look back at some of the things I've done, I feel like the most powerful person in the world. Not because the things I've done have been so huge or magnificent, but because I did the thing/got the thing/had the thing happen that I wanted. It's like that old Disney adage: if you can dream it, you can do it. Now, before I start blathering on about this, let me take a moment to say that NONE of these things I'm referring towere things I did alone. I had someone's helping hand somewhere, even if all he or she did was stay out of the way. It's more likely, however, that these things were accomplished with the conscious help of many friends and loved ones, and of course, Joe Campbells "thousand unseen helping hands."

On Thursday, I did a couple of guest appearances at A Place Called Home (APCH), an afterschool program for kids in South Central. One of my former students works there teaching music, and over the summer, we hatched a plan for me to go and talk to his kids. So yesterday I went and I spoke to a group of middle schoolers and a group of elementary schoolers. All of it went well. I told them about being a singer, about my background, and I showed them clips of me and other singers, and sang for them. Also, I answered a million questions. It was weird being in front of middle schoolers again. It brought back memories, good and bad. The kids at APCH were mostly well-behaved and engaged, and even the troublemakers could be dealt with easily. It was a positive experience on the whole. Afterwards, I was talking to M about teaching middle school and about how difficult I found it. He agreed that it was one of the hardest jobs ever (take that, Deadliest Catch folks!). M then asked about the series of circumstances that brought me from a middle school in Brooklyn, to Los Angeles, through one of the most well-respected musicology programs in the country, and into a full-time job at LACC. And truly, at that moment, I couldn't really call up the many millions of machinations that made all of it possible. What I thought to myself was, 'I wanted these things, and they happened.'

But it sure as hell wasn't magic, because it was a lot of hard work. It was studying in the bathtub when J and I lived in the studio, buying a car just so I could get from one job to another, spending literally thousands of hours in the library, agonizing over words in the dissertation, spending thousands of dollars to go to conferences to give papers and get feedback. But none of that stuff matters in the big picture because it all went towards the completion of the goal. I set out to do something and it got done. It took five years of work and sacrifice (and tens of thousands of dollars), but it got done. That's a powerful feeling. The feeling that you can want something and that you can get it.

And it hasn't just been the Ph.D. and the job; there have even been people that I really wanted to get to know, and now I can call them my friends. Sometimes I feel like I can do anything I set my mind to. Those are good days.

But here's the thing, I don't really know what I want so my power isn't much use to me at the moment. But that's all right. Not knowing what you want isn't so bad either. Chaos has is own charm. Perhaps right now, chaos is the work of those thousand unseen helping hands leading me to the next thing.

DecaAwesome List Number One

For the week ending 11/8/08

A word before we start. I am a compulsive list-maker. At any one time, I have a master list that is categorized (stuff for school, special projects, errands, etc.), and a list that breaks tasks down day-by-day. Lists help me keep track of all the many things I must do. I also find them fun. Why? God only knows. Anyway, I love making lists of things that make me happy, and so I introduce to you, the DecaAwesome List, a top ten of stuff from the week. Sometimes I'll include an explanation with the list item and sometimes I'll let these things speak for themselves. In no particular order:

1) The Big Bang Theory and Venture Brothers. The two funniest shows on television. And they're two shows that were specifically designed to be funny to complete nerds. Big Bang Theory is on Mondays at 8 on CBS. Venture Brothers is on Adult Swim (Cartoon Network) every night at 12:30AM.

2) Chipotle - the restaurant. I ate food from there for the first time this week. It's always been a favorite of S and C, but I've never eaten there myself because I'm so damn picky. But then S told me I could have them make my burrito as boring as I liked. So I did and it was delicious. I even liked the cilantro rice, and I usually HATE cilantro. Score!

3) Pilsbury Cinnamon Buns. It's WRONG how good they are. Wrong. Also, I'm hungry right now.

4) Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. Robert Downey, Jr. is maybe the funniest guy ever. I laughed like a freak throughout the whole thing. I just love meta stuff. Shane Black is a genius.

5) My purple pen. It was the one perk I got from judging the student Talent Show at school. It's just a plain Bic, but it writes in purple ink and it makes me happy.

6) Hotel pens. Yes, the nerd has two entries about PENS. The bulk of my pens comes from hotels. Sitting next to my keyboard on the desk is a pen from the Hyatt. I love hotel pens because they're free, and I usually get them when I'm at a conference. Conferences give me that good feeling of possibility so, by association: hotel pens = possibility.

7) Change. Not in a nickel and dime kinda way and not in an Obama way either. I just mean that you can be unhappy and you can change it. You can change your reaction, change your actions, change your situation, and just generally flip the script on almost anything. You just have to be willing to do it.

8) The Artist's Way. I'm reading it. It makes me feel like I'm validating my desire to write more. By reading this book, I am silently saying, "I'm serious about this."

9) The drum part of "Cherub Rock" on Rock Band. One of the most enjoyable songs I have yet played on this addictive game. Also, my band, Monkey Deathcar is very big in Amsterdam.

10) Editing. I was up until 3:30 last night working on the Accreditation Document, and even though the job is a total pain in the ass, it feels really good to fix something that's broken. Who ever guessed that I would be good at fixing anything? I can't fix a car or a dishwasher. I can't fix elections or contests. I can't even glue something back together without bonding two of my fingers together. But damn it, I can fix a sentence that makes no sense. I can make your subject and verb agree. I can maintain parallel construction and proper syntax. I can translate "english" into English. And I can have fun doing it, even at 3 in the morning.

~Hero

Dusty Corners of My Mind

Part VII in the Blog-A-Week Series

In addition to my normal blog entry, I am introducing a new feature this week: the DecaAwesome List. It's a top ten of things that have been awesome this week. I plan to make this a weekly feature and I might just make it its own entry. Stay tuned...

On the way driving to work today, I smelled tar. They must have been doing some road work or something, because as I drove by Alvarado on the 101, I smelled the unmistakable odor of tar. This smell has very powerful memories for me. When I was living in the Hunter dorms many moons ago (somewhere around 11-14 years ago), maintenance folks were re-tarring the roof of my dorm and the adjoining south building. The smell of tar permeated the air for weeks on end. God only knows what kind of lung disease I developed just from living there. So whenever I smell tar, it always reminds me of this particular period in my college history. And furthermore, it reminds me of a particular incident.

I was sitting in my dorm room, good old 1053 (spent every fall and spring there for 5 years). It was probably early afternoon. I want to say it was a Saturday...in Spring. And all of a sudden, the fire alarms started going off. I ignored them as I had learned to do from dozens of false alarms over the years. Until I heard commotion in the common area. I opened my door and leaned out to find people milling about and one very panic-stricken girl pushing the elevator button frantically and muttering something like, "On fire. It's on fire. Heh. FIRE." I turned around, grabbed a pair of shoes, my wallet, and my keys and fled down the stairs calling over to Panic Girl: "You don't take the elevator in a fire, you take the stairs." When I got outside, I joined a crowd of folks, and then I saw that the roof of the south building was en fuego. At first, I breathed a sigh of relief because my building wasn't in any immediate danger, but I reminded myself that fire is unpredictable, and that the two buildings were, in fact, connected. The more practical part of my brain started making a list of irreplaceable things I might have been about to lose.

I stood out there with my friend Dan and got giggly. I tend to do that when I'm not immediately involved in a situation. After a while of watching and smelling the tar burn (fire is a mesmerizing sight), a bunch of us--some in pajamas and slippers--walked to a Starbucks a couple of blocks away. There wasn't anything that we could do about the fire, so we figured: latte. Or in my case, a nice cup of tea.

There's something special about those moments that are so far out of the ordinary that they stand out. I knew it was unlikely I'd ever see the dorm fire again, and we also figured out that the FDNY had the situation well in hand right away. So we sat in Starbucks, sipping our drinks, savoring the uniqueness of the moment. A moment that I always remember when the good people of L.A. County public works are filling a pothole or patching up some street I'm driving by.

Amazing how the mind remembers such details. The smell of tar will forever remind me of: college, the dorm, Dan, fire, Panic Girl, and sitting in Starbucks across from someone wearing pajamas and bunny slippers.

~Hero

BOO!

Part VI in the Blog-A-Week Series

Yesterday was Halloween. I wore two costumes. At school, I was a "sexy countess" (the label said so) complete with a "scarlett o'hara" wig. It was a strange little costume because it's not really anything specific. Just a vague 18th century-type thing. But it was a sort of theme with the other young faculty in my department. Then last night at a friend's party, I was a Playboy Bunny. I chose that costume because it was flattering, but more importantly, it was a costume that came in my size. So many of the other interesting costumes I saw came only in larger sizes.

The bunny costume was successful. It was not without problems, though. My ears got caught on all hanging decorations, and I spent the party tugging down the back of the skirt for propriety's sake. As costumes go, it wasn't too uncomfortable. Except for the shoes which were excruciating. I could barely walk this morning. Today I am wearing big, fat, clunky, flat shoes. Ahhhh...

So I started thinking about how we choose our costumes as adults and how we chose them as kids. It's kinda fascinating. When we're kids, we pick characters we like and identify with. Like Luke Skywalker or Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. Or something more general like an army guy or a surgeon. Halloween gives us a chance--even when we're adults--to play pretend for a day. Dress up really fancy or, in contrast, go the ol' hobo route. Take all of Boba Fett's badass street cred without actually becoming a bounty hunter yourself.

Some people pick theme costumes they can wear with a significant other or friend. I remember P and S coming as doctor and accident victim one year. C and K always choose a theme for the two of them. Last night, K was a dragon and C was the warrior princess destined to slay him. A married couple came to the party as party games: he was Operation (complete with removable sticky body parts--entre nous, when I got home I realized his "water on the knee" was stuck to the bottom of my shoe) and she was Twister (her hat was the spinner). Or you could choose based on a group idea. When I lived in Queens, every year, my group of friends said it was doing Star Wars as a theme. I was going to be Boba Fett, but it never actually happened. *sigh*

As we grow up, getting a costume is really more of an inconvenience than anything else. Like, "Oh damn, I have to decide what to be by Friday." It's not like when you're a kid and you see a movie in June and you just KNOW that you're going to be so-and-so in four months. And if you're in a couple, you have to wonder if your significant other is going to be annoyed if you're something that stands alone ("So what am I supposed to be, honey?"). And if you're single, are you going to pick something that might get you someone's digits?

I admit, I kinda copped out this year. A Bunny? Really?  As I said, it was the only costume I liked and fit into. I wasn't dying to be a bunny. But there wasn't anything else that piqued my interest either. I miss the days when I was a kid and picking a Halloween costume meant something. It was a statement of ideals, of what was important to you. Did you want to be the hero Luke (even though he was a little whiny)? Or did you want to go as the badass scoundrel Han? Did you want to be a heroic firefighter, or a rock out in a toga? Princess or pumpkin? 

Is it just because I'm grown up that I don't care so much about what I am anymore? Or is it that I'm missing some heroes in my life? I don't know, but I do have hope that it won't always be an inconvenience. Next year, maybe someone--real or imagined--will emerge and I'll want to be them for Halloween for next year.

If not, there's always McLovin'.

~Hero

Laughing Place

Part V in the Blog-A-Week Series

Five weeks and I'm still sticking to it! Yes!

Today is Thursday and I have no classes to teach on Thursday. Usually, I use my days off (Tuesdays and Thursdays) to do errands and basically run around like mad. But I planned ahead, moved some things around, and made today a free day so I could go to Disneyland. I haven't been since last year when I sang with the choir there. I bought an annual pass on that trip and I never got to use it. Anyhoo, I went with a buddy and I spent the day riding rides, eating kettle corn, and taking a break from the crazy work that has been eating my head.

I haven't been on Splash Mountain in years, but it was a really hot day so we decided to go. I forgot that the theme of the ride is Song of the South. For a time when I was growing up, my Dad used to read my sister and me stories about Brer Fox and Brer Bear and that clever Brer Rabbit. And one of the things Brer Rabbit used to talk about was his "Laughin' Place." Brer Rabbit used to go there to laugh at how he'd outsmarted Brer Fox and Brer Bear. He also went there when things weren't going so well; it was a place to step back, reassess, and find ways to turn disadvantages into advantages. In short, a Laughing Place is a place to look on the bright side, whether reality makes that easy or not. 

I had forgotten all about the laughing place, and I can name you a dozen times in the last few months when I could have used one. There have been some really tough moments where I just wanted to escape to a place where I could get some time to think by myself. So while I was on Splash Mountain, I started to think about where my Laughing Place is. Where can I go to get away from everything and everyone? What place feels so comfortable that my stress level goes down just being there?

I thought long and hard about this, and what I came up with proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am a nerd to the core. My Laughing Place is USC's Doheny Library. Like most libraries, it's quiet and cool and full of books. I spent so much time there when I was a student that I can pretty much find my way through it blind. Besides the hours and hours I was in there doing my class assignments, I spent two years researching my dissertation in the Cinema Library, the Music Library, and the regular stacks. God help me, I love it there. To me, it represents knowledge, but that library also represents something even more important: possibility. I can think there. I can plan there. I can gather my thoughts in the serene silence, and strategize. When I leave, I always feel revitalized and full of ideas.

As a bonus, out in front of the library, there's a little rose garden that surrounds a beautiful fountain. On my way in or out of the library, I smell the roses, just to remind myself that I'm not in so much of a rush that I can't enjoy the simple things. I always stop and smell the roses. No matter what.

I guess part of it is also what USC has meant to me. Nine years ago, when I was miserable teaching middle school, and I decided that I wanted to get my Ph.D. and teach college, USC was the place that was going to help me achieve that dream. When I was taking classes there and working my part-time job in the library, it was the place where that dream was coming true. I remember taking moments here and there to appreciate the fact that I was doing actually doing what I said I was going to. To me, it's magic because of that. It is a place where a dream came true, minute by minute, day by day, over five amazing, life-changing years. The day I graduated will always be one of the best, most magical days of my life.

So now, when I need a little magic or when I need to remember that dreams come true if you work hard and take some risks, I go there. I'm judging from the lack of shocked looks that none of you is surprised. My Laughing Place is a library. Hmm. Imagine that.

~Hero

Midterm Progress Report

Part IV in the Blog-A-Week Series

We've just about struck midterm here at school. Saturday will mark the end of week 7 out of 15. I thought that now would be as good a time as any to give myself a little midterm progress report. I've devised some categories and I'm going to evaluate how I'm doing in each.

School: I'm in the groove here. I have a big job ahead of me in the next week, making up the midterm for my Music Appreciation class, but it's completely do-able. My other classes are singing classes and we don't do midterms in those, so it's just like any other week. I've decided that I need to stay more in touch with changes in the educational zeitgeist so I think I might subscribe to the MENC (Music Educators National Council) publication. Also, I'm reading a couple of books to help hone my teaching technique. After all, I never thought I'd be teaching voice so it's high time I got fully on board with the program. This is my job now and will be for a while, so I might as well be the best I can be at it. Assessment: feelin' fine.

Accreditation: This would be going so much better if I had some time to do it. The report has been written (by many hands) in a language that is almost English. I'm constantly yelling at the computer screen nerdy things like, "No! NO! NO! Doesn't ANYONE care about syntax anymore?!?" or "That's NOT a verb! This sentence has no VERB!" or "For the love of GOD, stop misusing APOSTROPHES!!!!!" My roommate can attest that I spend as much time yelling at the computer as I do actually editing. It's slow-going, but it's getting done, and come hell or high water, it has to be done soon. Assessment: needs work (and time).

Program Notes: Can you believe I'm still writing these? Yep. St. Paul Chamber Orchestra still has me writing all the way through February. I have two notes due in the next few days and two corrections due ASAP. I'm getting them done, hopefully today. Assessment: Satisfactory, if slightly annoying.

Writing: I'm keeping up with the Blog-A-Week thing so that's good. However, I've completely neglected my two novels-in-progress, and I don't know if I'm going back to them any time soon. They're just not under my skin anymore. One of them, the adult one, I might abandon completely (for now, at least), just because it deals with a lot of stuff that was going on before the break-up and I don't know that I want to get back into that. I did come up with a really good idea for a funny book while I was on the couch at therapy yesterday. Might be therapeutic too. We'll see. Assessment: making progress, but needs work.

Social: Things are going well here. I think I'm making myself available for fun stuff. The duo I sing back-up for, Bunnies and Kitties, had a show last night and it was a very successful event. A lot of people came and I had a chance to hang out with Cael a bit. Maybe I'll have drinks with CP this afternoon (if I get my program notes done), and I think I'm going to see a movie with my roommate tonight. I have a dinner date with Cat tomorrow night. I saw Steve earlier in the week, and I had a chance to talk to Rebecca. I even got to see Pat briefly on Tuesday. In short, I'm maintaining a healthy social calendar. I do owe some folks emails. Assessment: Pretty good, but I better watch out that I don't overdo it.

Romantic: Let's not even GO there, shall we? Assessment: Ick.

Other: Well sir, I have some other projects that have been simmering on the backburner so long, I wonder if they're still viable. One is the Back to the Future paper. I feel like all I need is one full day to get this done. One full day of nothing but this, and I can get it into shape. If a full day of nothing does not present itself, I will take a mental health day from school and create one. All the other stuff (book proposal and article) will have to wait until after Thanksgiving, I think. Assessment: Entirely do-able.

Overall Assessment: I guess I'm doing all right. It helps to see it all laid out like this, I think. I've always been pretty good at prioritizing and keeping things on track. I find that I'm still catching up from summer work. Also, the events of the end of summer, i.e. the break-up and Singapore, sapped my energy for a period that was perhaps a little too long, but I must accept my humanity and extreme imperfection. Now I'm back and trying to go at it full force. I'm putting my head down and my shoulder to the wheel. Next time I look up, it might just be Christmas.

~Hero

One Errand at a Time

Part III in the Blog A Week series

When you spend a lot of time with someone who is good at something, I think it's tempting to let him or her do that thing whenever it comes up. Me? I am terrible at directions. I have a computer brain for some things--phone numbers, for instance--but remembering where things are or how to get from point A to point B is always going to be a struggle for me. J is a savant when it comes to directions so when we were together, I just let him do that. I didn't pay attention in the car when we drove somewhere, I didn't make note of where we were and where we'd just come from. Even when I got my own car 3 years ago, I still called him up on the phone when I needed to get to a store, or when I was in the midst of being well and truly lost.

But now I can't do that. And I shouldn't. I'm in my thirties, for heaven's sake, and I should be able to find a Trader Joe's by myself. Also, I should probably know where north is, but I think there's a magnet in my brain that thwarts that effort. Since the break-up, I toyed with the idea of getting myself a GPS. I probably still should, but I haven't yet. Nope, right now it's Mapquest, the Thomas Guide, spoken directions, and some roughly drawn maps from Steve.

For the most part, I'm getting where I need to go. I know this is pathetic--me telling you this--since I'm sure anyone reading this is like, 'yeah. duh. this is what happens when you get your own driver's license.' But it's not like that for me. I got my license at 17, but I didn't own a car until 14 years later. I drove to the same five places in New York, and for the last five years before I moved to California, I took the train everywhere. So it's not a skill set I've been using. Until now.

Yesterday, I had to give blood in Pasadena. I managed to find the place all right using the Thomas Guide. Sad as it seems, I did a little victory dance when I found it without getting lost. Small victories are sweet. Then, as I was giving blood, I realized the next errand was returning my non-working copy of Rock Band to Best Buy, and I had no idea where there was a Best Buy. Now, I'm the kind of person who will go completely out of her way to go back to a familiar place rather than figure out a new, riskier way. So I could have gone to the Burbank Best Buy or even the Los Feliz one, but instead, I got on the phone while I was eating my cookies and juice, and I called information. Like a grown-up! I found out that there was a Best Buy mere blocks from where I was sitting.

So I used my maps and I got there. I exchanged the game and went on my merry way. All without getting lost. I felt so proud of myself. Proud enough to write about it here. I didn't call anyone for help (except information, but that totally doesn't count). I didn't have to rely on someone else to get me where I needed to go. I got myself there and it felt pretty darn good. Small victories are indeed sweet. I'm reclaiming my independence one errand at a time.

~Hero

Get Out of Your Own Damn Way

Part II in the Blog A Week Series

I'm just getting this entry in under the wire. Whew! Don't want to blow the whole blog-a-week thing on week 2. That is just not on. So, here we go. I am a moderately successful person in the world, I think. Sure, there are still thousands of things I have yet to do, but I'm doing all right: friends, jobs, hobbies, extracurriculars. Maybe if I continue to work really hard, I'll become a grand success. And if I do, I think I'll write a self-help book. I already have the name picked out: Get Out of Your Own Damn Way. And it'll have a kicky subtitle like: Removing Obstacles to Your Own Success.

Here's the thing: as an educator, I see people getting in their own way all the time. And it's frustrating, especially when you see it happen to people who could really make a difference in the world. Wasted potential is almost as bad as wasted time, but wasted time you can never get back. It breaks my heart that some of my students never got encouragement when they were younger, and they've suffered all of their lives because of it. And now, instead of just doing the things they want to do in life, they have to spend years finding ways over or around the junk that blocks their progress. Sometimes I think I was called to do my job because I was given so much encouragement by my parents. As if they trained me to do the very thing that I'm doing. Not the music part, but the encouragement part. The nurturing patience part. The love part.

Helping folks reach their potential is a topic that's always on my mind, so imagine my surprise when I read about this very thing in an article in The Key Reporter this week (this is Phi Beta Kappa's quarterly publication). The article was taken from a lecture by Richard Leo Enos from Texas Christian University. He uses Michelangelo and Victor Hugo as examples of people who were driven by some unseen force to use their talents to the full. What made these guys go out there and give it their all, while most of us let time pass us by? Some, like Greek educator, Isocrates believed that a smart and successful student has three traits: talent, the willingness to practice, and experience. Talent, well that's a given. Although baseball great Lou Gehrig maintained that he wasn't born with any more talent for baseball than anyone else; it was practice that made the difference for him. Practice, he said, turns failure into success. Experience is what happens when you actually try. There's no substitute for it. Problem is, a lot of people don't even get to that stage. Or they think they're not ready for it so they practice their life away, not realizing that at some point, you need to try whether or not you feel ready.

In his lecture, Enos cites Aristotle who said that in addition to talent, a person has dynamis, or power. It's this power that allows people to take risks and make that leap. Most people don't tap into this power. Or they wait for the signal to come from outside, not realizing that it's already there inside of them. Enos concludes by saying that the three things necessary for success are: hard work, effort, and risk-taking.

To these, I'd add attitude. Attitude turns failure into success (you learned from it, didn't you?). Attitude also turns anxiety into excitement, obstacles into challenges, risks into adventures. I don't know how to get my students to understand that they too can be successful. The best I've figured out so far is telling them what I know and modeling this behavior. When I figure out more concrete methods, I'll write my book.

This could be a scary time for me, newly single, on my own for the first time in forever. But I'm trying to take on the challenges as they come. Driving to places I've never been before (and getting lost), trying to fix things that I've never fixed, trying not to blame myself for every disaster. And it's all about my attitude, I think.

A song from the musical Wicked keeps running through my head. It's "Defying Gravity," and the song starts out, "Something has changed within me/ Something is not the same." Well, that's for sure. A few lines later, it goes on, "Too late for second-guessing/ Too late to go back to sleep./ It's time to trust my instincts/ Close my eyes and leap."

So that's it. That's what I tell my students and what I tell myself. The time for overthinking is over. Push through the moment of doubt. There's something great on the other side, so do it: close your eyes and leap.

~Hero

Blog a week

Last time I posted, it was June. Lots of things have happened since then, and I won't even attempt to give details about most of it. The biggest change is that I'm single. This news has been treated with disbelief all around town, but I assure you it is true. I'm all right, but it's still difficult. Good days and bad days, you know.

Also, I visited Singapore in August. It was a life-changing trip, a spiritual journey of sorts.

School started back up and I've been working like mad at all of my jobs.

In general, it's life, only slightly more complex. The stress of the summer has subsided, replaced with the stress of the fall semester. I'm trying to take it all in stride and use the lessons I've learned.

I've come to many conclusions, but I'm only going to share one right now:

I don't write enough.

I want to be a writer so that means that I have to write. Every day. As much as I can. To this end, I'm challenging myself to blog more often. A Blog A Week is the plan. Starting next week. Well, I guess this is a blog entry, so...I guess it's starting this week.

Yes. More writing. So it is written, so it shall be done...or something.

~Hero

An editor's life for me?

It's June 28 and I am in the midst of the craziest summer of my life. I thought last summer was crazy, and it was, but it was a different kind of insanity. More focused, let's say on one gigantic earth-shattering event. Last June, our L.A. family out here closed ranks around our friends whose ten-month-old was diagnosed with a brain tumor. We all spent plenty o' time in the hospital last summer, hanging out, bringing meals to our friends, trying to help out in any way we could. It's with joy that I say things are going well for that special little boy, and we've put last summer's focused insanity behind us.

This summer is entirely unique. I mentioned in an earlier post being a workaholic, and nothing has changed. It's just that the amount of work I'm required to do is...is...well, it's astonishing. In all my 34 years, I have never worked this much. I have never slept this little. Not even during the final throes of my dissertation. Not even when I was taking my comps. Or my quals, for that matter. Hell, the only reason I'm writing this blog is because I had to be up early to work and I had a quiet moment to do something for myself. 

I won't go into details about what I'm doing because those are facts that bore even me, but I will talk about the consequences of a schedule that involves teaching, the Aspen job, the LACO job, the SPCO job, and the publishing stuff. I'm not actually complaining because, first of all, doing these things has been my choice, and I have no problem living with my decisions. Second of all, I do feel so blessed to have so many opportunities. I realize how lucky I am to have this work, and I certainly haven't forgotten how awful it was to be a temp during the summertime.

I suppose what I'm doing here is enumerating the consequences of my choices. I'm not real big on regrets (they're kindofa waste), so I suppose this is just a way to take stock of the situation.

Casualty #1 - Jeff

My one and only is getting the short end of the stick because I haven't washed a dish since we moved. I've barely unpacked, I leave everything a mess, and I'm busy all the time. We usually go to the movies at least three times a month and we've only seen two movies this summer. It ain't right. Also, I miss him.

Casualty #2 - my friends

The juggling is hard to do. I want to maintain my friendships, stay in touch with people. Maybe even hang out once in a while. It's hard to do when you have so much on your plate. I miss my friends and I know some of them wonder just what the hell is up with me half the time. I do a pretty good job of making myself available, I think. And I try to be there for them if they need me, but I know some folks have fallen through the cracks and it just kills me.

Casualty #3 - my fiction

I haven't written a word of fiction in months. *shakes head* I was supposed to really hit it hard this summer, but that has just not happened. I haven't written. Not a word. And it just hurts.

Casualty #4 - my body

This temple is falling apart. I routinely get fewer than five hours of sleep a night, and when I pull all-nighters--which I do occasionally now (and which I NEVER did in college or grad school, for that matter)--I'm so tired, I get nauseated. I often forget to eat and then wonder why I'm so hungry hours later. When I do have the opportunity to go out, I drink. My liver is NOT a happy camper right now.

Casualty #5 - the apartment

Busy-ness makes me even sloppier than usual (poor Jeff has to live in and around my insanity), and my desk is a pile of unpacked, yet unorganized stuff Jeff affectionately calls, Mt. Crappy.

I don't know when things are going to change, but they can't stay like this forever.

This alleged "summer" is crazy, but I suppose I'm just going to eat it up with a spoon and embrace it for all its chaos. Such is life. My life.

When six hours of sleep seems glorious...

I like to think that I'm the type of person who does what needs to be done. Like, if there are dirty dishes in the sink, I'll wash 'em. This week, I found out that the production schedule for my editing job listed an erroneous deadline. It said all the docs for the program wrap were due on May 14. Except that on May 6, the printer called and said, "Hey, if you want the docs in the proof, everything should be due on May 5." And I think I looked behind me at the calendar and said, "You mean yesterday?"And, in fact, she did mean yesterday.

Soooooo...I spent the last three nights up late late late, editing like mad and turning stuff in. Forty-two documents in all. I slept three hours the first night (got up and taught music theorat 7:50AM), four hours the second night, and a glorious six hours the third night. When six hours seems like sleeping in, you're either working too hard...or you have kids.

The good news is that I've done the lion's share of the work for this particular deadline. Put out most of the flames from this particular fire. I am by no means finished, but I might sleep eight hours tonight.

There's a lot of other stuff going on with my jobs and such. We're getting into the last weeks of the semester and that means final exams. My students are doing concerts all over the place (some are my responsibility, some are not). I myself am singing in some concerts as well (and choreographing the benefit concert at church). And did I mention? We're moving. Yep. Big Red and I signed a lease today for a place in Highland Park. We have a full two weeks to move, but I think you can imagine that my time to move is severely limited. Luckily, Red is spearheading the moving movement. He's a peach.

Right now, I think I might nap for about twenty minutes and maybe catch a movie with the man. I'll start fresh in the morning.

Eight hours of sleep. I can hardly believe it.

~Hero

Lazy Lima Bean

There used to be a sketch comedy show starring some of the Wayans Brothers called In Living Color. There was a recurring sketch called "Hey, Mon," starring a very busy Jamaican family. Each member of the family had numerous jobs, to a nearly insane degree. One family member might be a doctor, nurse, orderly, janitor, and lawyer (for the malpractice, presumably). Anyone not having multiple jobs was dubbed, "A Lazy Lima Bean."

My family's been calling me "Lazy Lima Bean" for years, but its not cos they're mean; they're just being ironic. In the almost twenty years since I started working, I've held multiple jobs for probably eighteen of those years. Working three part-time jobs at once seemed normal back in my college days; the year I graduated, I was gainfully employed by the Honors Program, the History Department, and the Journal of Philosophy. Some years, I had five W-2s. I always assumed that a time would come when I grow up and have a single job. You know, like most grown-ups I know.

Then I went to grad school and decided to become an academic.

So...that means you work your ass off to get a degree, you pray for a full-time job, and in the meanwhile, you work a million jobs anywhere you can. It's expected. Halfway through grad school, I started working at Pasadena City College teaching classes here and there. Then I got a gig at Los Angeles City College. After I graduated, USC gave me a class. I also taught at Santa Monica College. Running around like this is so common for academics, we have a special name for it here in the southland: freeway flying.

I used to dream of the day I'd get that full time job and finally stop freeway flying. I didn't do it for all that long, but it was long enough. Then, it happened. A full-time job pretty much fell into my lap, and I thought I was entering into the land of one W-2.

But that was not how it went down. Last summer, I got a job writing program notes for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra. This summer, I'm adding a similar gig with the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. And just two weeks ago, I got another job for the summer this time as editor for the Aspen Music Festival. I'm going to have a busy couple of months, for sure, but it occurs to me that I wouldn't want to have it any other way.

I'm not saying that having one job is boring to me. Or that I have ADD or something. I suppose I like to feel needed. Like there's something I can contribute. Also, being stretched thin makes me feel alive in the same way that base jumping makes some folks feel alive. I'm not a stress junkie or anything. I'm an...accomplishment junkie. A resume item-adding freak. Busy as a B-plus. Call me what you will.

Just don't call me a lazy lima bean.

~Hero

Get busy livin'

The internet is a powerful thing. It's a source of endless information (some reliable, some not). It's a way to connect with people who have similar interests. It's a way to check out what's happening in the world. You can do everything from order pizza to submit your dissertation using the internet. I still remember the day I realized the internet's awesome power: I typed "The Lord of the Rings and Led Zeppelin" into Yahoo and came upon pages and pages dedicated to the connections between them. I thought to myself, this is an amazing, beautiful, terrible beast.

I didn't know I was gonna use it to make friends.

I have mentioned in the past my OWC (online writing circle). It's a close-knit group of friends. We share our writing, edit and comment on each others' stories, encourage each other. Two weeks ago, one of these friends died tragically in a car accident. Anjali was twenty-five years old. Like some of my internet friends, I actually met Anj in person before we were in the OWC together, but we grew closer over the internet. We had a lot in common. She was a musician and a teacher, and we shared the same passion for learning and education.

When I first starting surfing the web, I never imagined that I would make real, honest-to-God friends there. People to chat with? Sure. Folks to take the old futon off my hands? Absolutely. But friends? I had serious doubts about that. I guess I had the prejudice that "internet friends" were all a bunch of sexual predators who lied about being six-foot-tall buxom blondes. What can I say? I'm from New York. We're always on our guard. (To this day, when someone brushes past me--even if it's a kid--I check for my wallet. Old habits die hard, I guess.) I couldn't just assume that my internet friends would be real, amazing, wonderful people, could I? But they were. They are.

The way I found out about Anj was a phone call from another internet friend, Georgia. She's been a close friend for years, even though I met her in person for the first time a month ago. Georgia called to tell me about Anj, and the two of us cried for an hour together. Since then, we've been talking about how Anj's death has affected us, calling and texting when the day hits a rough patch or when something in particular reminds us of her.

The other day I was talking to one of my students, and we were talking about age. I asked her how old she is and she said, "I'm 25." And for some reason, that was just like a punch in the gut. Twenty-five years old. Like Anj. Here's my student, with nothing but awesome life in front of her, and Anj--whose life was taking off in new and interesting ways--who won't get the chance to do so many things. The way she died is also screwing with my head a little bit. Imagine leaving the house one day and just...never getting back home. Maybe she left dirty dishes in the sink, or the laundry unfolded (this is not a prompt for you to go do housework or anything). I know for a fact that she left 11 unanswered comments on her blog. God, that just hurts to think about.

From a purely selfish perspective, it's just scary to think that I could leave my work unfinished. I've got three novels going right now, and the idea that they might not be completed is frightening to me. And finishing them is going to get slightly thornier because of my new summer job. This post was supposed to be all about the job, but Anj was on my mind so it'll have to wait. I guess, though, that even if I live to be 110, there will still be things I would have wanted to do. I'm just that type of person, I think. I'm pretty sure Anj was too.

I'm grateful to the internet for allowing me a place to be friends with Anj, for giving us a forum to meet up and talk and discuss music and scholarship and Japanese and anime and Harry Potter. I'm grateful for having had the opportunity to know her over the last two and a half years. She wasn't just an "internet friend." She was a friend, and I'm gonna miss her terribly.

~Hero

P.S. Next time: The Sarah Marshall movie and the new job.

Meeting celebrities

I grew up in New York, and when you're from the city, you inevitably see famous people. Most New Yorkers I know, do not bother famous people. One time, I rode the subway with Sara Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick. The three of us shorties were hanging onto the same pole. No one spared them a second glance. We were all, like, 'hey, those guys' and then we went about our business. I don't mind seeing celebrities, but I won't go up to them.

I'm a big fan of the TV show, Supernatural. This weekend, I went to a convention where the stars of the show appeared and signed autographs. I had mixed feelings about meeting them. Well, I met them, and everything went fine; they were perfectly lovely people. But for the last few weeks, I've been thinking about why meeting them got me so twisted up.

Here's the thing. I'm a pretty cool gal. I'm smart and funny and I like to think I'm a force to be reckoned with. When I meet a celebrity, it's a completely one-sided thing. I went to the con to tell these folks how much I admire them, but meanwhile, they didn't have any idea that I'm pretty awesome too. I know all about them, but they know nothing about me. For some reason, I think that sucks out loud.

For about ten seconds, I toyed with the idea of making up a t-shirt that said something like, "I'm not just a fan of Supernatural; I'm a college professor, musicologist, writer..." etc. 

I wanted them to know I wasn't just some giggling obsessed fangirl. I'm a real person, and I'm just as worthy to be met as they are.

Is that weird?

Anyway, all the folks who came to the con were absolutely wonderful. Very gracious, charming, and genuine, and I'd love to meet them all again. But next time, I want it to be because they want to meet me. 

;-)

~Hero

Save the Vocative Comma!!

The vocative comma is a very important thing. I'm not saying I'm always perfect about using them. The folks that beta read my stories can attest to that. However, I know where they're supposed to go, and I know I've been missing them in the ad campaign for Judd Apatow's upcoming film, Forgetting Sarah Marshall.

What's that, now? You don't know about the vocative comma? Let me explain with a little grammar lesson (although I'm sure many of my readers know a helluva lot about grammar). Each word in a sentence has a function. The function of a word is referred to as its case. You learn about cases when you study a language like Latin or German. In those languages (called "inflected") and others, the ending of a word changes based on its case. We have that a little in English (who vs. whom, for example), but in English, word order creates context and meaning. In inflected languages, word order is less important. The words with their different endings convey all the meaning you need. You can figure out a word's function just by looking at its ending (we called that "parsing"). Word endings for nouns can tell you number and gender, while verb endings convey person, number, tense, and voice.

Anyhoo, long story short, we have cases in English, we just never use that terminology to talk about them. The nominative case refers to the subject of a sentence, the accusative is the direct object, and so on. The vocative case refers to someone in the sentence who is being called or addressed ("vocative" comes from the Latin word "vocare" meaning "to call"). As in, "Hey, you!" In English, vocative commas help the reader understand who is being addressed. In the sentence, "Get me that wrench, John," I'm addressing John. Without the comma, the meaning of the sentence changes. "Get me that wrench John," is telling some unknown person or entity to acquire something called a "wrench John" whatever that is. (Perhaps it's a little bathroom for wrenches?)

So if I say, "Don't eat Mom!" I must be addressing some cannibal who's about to cook up my Mom for dinner. But if I say, "Don't eat, Mom!" then I'm telling her not to chow down on the food. Maybe because it's not cooked properly or something.

Everyone good on the grammar? Okay, good. Let's get to my rant.

The ad campaign for the movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall features a series of seemingly handwritten billboards. One says, "YOU SUCK SARAH MARSHALL." What could this billboard mean?

1) It could be a message FROM Sarah Marshall, telling someone else that they suck. As in:

You suck!

--Sarah Marshall

But that doesn't seem likely because we don't have the punctuation to back it up.

2) Someone could be telling Sarah Marshall that she sucks:

You suck, Sarah Marshall!

But there is no vocative comma, so it can't mean that, can it?

3) Someone could be making an observation about someone else actually sucking Sarah Marshall. Maybe 'Sarah Marshal' is a new variety of frozen treat akin to the popsicle:

You suck Sarah Marshall.

Perhaps the billboard should include an accompanying sentence to clarify:

You suck Sarah Marshall; isn't she delicious?

Or not.

Obviously the ad wizards meant the second one, but how the hell are we supposed to get that from what is written?

Vocative commas, people (<-- look there's one right there!). They're cheap and they convey meaning. Gah.

You can categorize this post as nerd wankage, and sure, that's exactly what it is, but don't you agree there should be someone who fights for the freaking commas??? Grrr.

/rant

Here's a funny anecdote I heard in Latin class. Apparently Sanskrit has something like fourteen cases (more than double that of Latin). It must have been grammatical chaos to ask for anything.  My Latin teacher in college told us that the worst insult one could hurl at a speaker of Sanskrit was to call him "an incompetent grammarian." Gee, you think?

If I met the marketing crew that put together the Sarah Marshall campaign, I'd call them incompetent grammarians, but I doubt they'd let it bother them too much. Jerks.

~Hero

The Pleasure and the Privilege

I have no time for pleasure reading lately. It's a tragedy because I have a stack of awesome books to read. I have a book by Asimov from Dad. Immortality from Kevin. Geek Love from Cael. And like a moron, I just bought Sideways and Little Children from Barnes and Noble dot com. I opened up Little Children just to see if the opening sentence was similar to the opening voiceover of the movie, and suddenly I'm 50 pages into it. Ye gods, it's good. Tom Perrotta is a genius. Sometimes I read books and I can't believe how good the prose is. Hell, I read the fiction of friends in my OWC and their prose freaking blows me away.

When I read books like Little Children  (Rick Moody's The Ice Storm or Nick Hornby's A Long Way Down), I think, I can do that. Know why? Because they make it look so easy. They make it look So. Damn. Easy. Now, I don't know if I can do it, or if I'm fooling myself, or what, but I suppose I'm gonna keep trying until the well of ideas runs dry.

Sometimes I wonder about my day job and how long I will spend being "Doc G" for my students. Maybe I'll be Doc G for the next few years and then I'll transition into writing full time. But who knows? I really do like being Doc G. A lot of my students are ridiculously wonderful people who enrich my life with their personalities, their music, and their own journey of self-discovery. I wonder what I will do if I ever decide to cut off that supply of fresh, new faces every semester just so I can have enough time to sit home alone and try like mad to craft that beautiful prose I admire so much.

But teaching would be really hard to give up. Sometimes, a student will finally understand a theoretical concept that had been giving him trouble, and you can practically see the light go on. Or a student will break through the fear that's been holding her back, and for the first time, she can sing without self-consciousness. And it may not the best singing in the world, but it's the most beautiful sound there is. That freedom.

Just being there for those moments, seeing those breakthroughs happen, it's what teaching is all about. 

And to be part of that, in ways big and small--maybe being the first person who told a student that mistakes are okay, or spending hours outside of class trying to figuring out a new way to clarify things--is not just a pleasure, it's a privilege. I mean, damn. It's a freaking honor to do those things, and to get to do those things every day. I'm not saying they happen every day, because they don't, but they happen enough to make it worthwhile, even from a purely selfish point of view.

So, yes, I want to be a writer. And, yes, I already am a writer. But I am also a teacher. I don't really know how to reconcile those things right this minute, but the point is I don't have to. I've lived my life riding the waves of this big fantastic river, paddling at some times and just going with the flow at others, so I'm pretty sure that eventually, I'll find the way I'm supposed to go. For right now, I think I'll let the river carry me for a while, and I'll do my best to enjoy the ride.

And if going with the flow right now means nudging students to find their voice by day, and trying to craft seemingly effortless prose by night, then so be it. So be it.

~Hero

Random fun on two legs

It has been a rough week-and-some since last I wrote. Deadlines tried to kill me, but I managed to survive. I had to write some emergency notes for one of my jobs over the last week. I cranked out the first set in a day, and it was fine. Then, on Sunday, I wrote nearly 400 words of fine information in about an hour. The notes were a little generic, but it got the job done. We missed the printing deadline anyway, so I now have the very great honor of making it less generic. Did I mention the piece I'm writing about isn't done yet? Yeah. That makes it easier.

I also handed in an almost-final draft of a paper about the score to Back to the Future. Even though I knew about this deadline since January, I hadn't had any time to work on it. So I wrote solidly from Tuesday until Friday night. Got about 5500 words done. I've heard nothing back from the editor, but I think that the paper is not a travesty, at least. I know, ringing endorsement. That's what the Nobel committee says when they're choosing a winner of the Lit Prize every year. "Well, this book should win because it's not a travesty." *sigh*

In other news, John Williams is coming to my school for a special concert. Yep. That Johnny Williams. The guy whose score to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom pretty much sealed my fate as a musician forever? The guy who spoke at my graduation from USC, signed my Harry Potter CD, and congratulated ME on my doctorate? The guy who was so gracious and kind and humble that meeting him actually made me collapse from overwhelm-ing-ness? That guy. He's coming to LACC as a guest. We're doing a Q&A with him, and then putting on a concert of his works and the works of some of our young composers here. In the concert, the chamber choir is singing "Double Trouble" from Prisoner of Azkaban, and I AM SINGING WITH THEM! Isn't it weird how life works? Years ago, I never thought I'd even meet the guy, but now I'm seeing him for the THIRD time (and introducing the Q&A), singing FOR him (Harry Freaking Potter, no less), and then having dinner with the guy afterwards. I suppose that means there's still some chance for other dreams I have.

In that last paragraph, I totally meant to complain about all the extra work the JW concert thing is causing us, but I got carried away. Suffice it to say, it's a lot of extra work, but it's going to be so worth it if it all works out.

So yeah, my dreams. There was a time back in the day when I really wanted to be an actor. Back before I realized I'd never play a leading lady. Back before I realized that I was destined to be the wacky neighbor for all eternity. Funny then, to make it all the way to Hollywood years later, but to come here as a damn musicologist and all around nerdlinger. I still think that somewhere down the line, I might go back to acting in some form or another. I'd be happy as the wacky neighbor now, I think. But here's the thing, I don't want to do the Hollywood actor thing. I want people I know to put me in their films. I don't want to go through the pain and suffering of auditioning. To paraphrase the older guy in an action movie: "I'm getting too old for that shit."

Maybe I'll take a step in that direction by taking those voice over lessons I've been putting off for years. If money and time are in abundance this summer, it'll happen We shall see. Right now, I feel pretty confident that dreams do come true, and if that's the case, I'm just going to keep wanting things.

~Hero

Writer's...Something

I got an email on Thursday (I think) from the my contact, Kelly, over at the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. They need some notes lickety split, and she wanted to know if I could do them. I'm a tad swamped, but I don't usually say no to work, so I said sure. I need to write notes for two pieces. One of them is a five-minute work that was inspired by 9/11. Thanks to the interwebs, I had a chance to hear the piece, and I got some information and even some good quotes from the composer. The notes should be somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 words. Sounds simple, right? Sure. I should be able to do this standing on my head, but for some reason, I just can't get my brain to spit out the words in the right order. I wouldn't call it writer's block, but hell, if I could think of a clever name for what I'm dealing with right now, I'd probably be able to dash these notes off in a second. *sigh* *needs sleep*

Last night, J and I went out to dinner with some friends, one of whom we haven't seen in months. She lives in London, and was in town to give a paper at a conference. Anyhoo, after dinner, a few of us walked down to Starbucks and hung out. We were there for three hours, and in that time, I saw a number of folks sitting at tables, typing away on their laptops. Even though I was having an awesome time with my friends, I have to admit that I was a bit envious of these folks. Right now, a few hours typing in Starbucks (and not typing program notes or proposals or articles) sounds better than a beach vacation. Spring Break is coming up, and I keep telling myself just to hang on a bit until then, and then I'll take myself to Starbucks, fire up the new laptop and just type away until they run out of Tazo Refresh tea. Sounds better than Daytona or Cancun at this point.

Also, the revision of my novel is coming along slowly; I did some good work on it this week during a few stolen moments. (Thank you, Google Docs for being so awesome.) I was all ready to send two chapters to my sister, but I was reading the new stuff over and I realized I'd given the brother knowledge of something he's not supposed to know about yet. So now I have to go back and figure out whether I want him to know this thing at the beginning of chapter 9 (and if so, I have to work in the heart-breaking conversation in chapter 8 somewhere), or I have to delete that part of the new stuff and figure out if his motivation stays the same or if it has to change. *facepalm*

All right, I should get back to writing my notes. In conclusion, I will end with a list of things that are currently making me happy (in no particular order):

1. My fiancee
2. Oreo Cakesters (sugar=crack)
3. Torchwood
4. On Demand (so I can watch Torchwood)
5. yellow legal pads
6. Google Docs (if I weren't already engaged, I'd marry it)
7. wearing a thermal shirt under a t-shirt
8. beer
9. my godson
10. text messages

In the mood to revise

On the heels of my latest rejections, I've been thinking a lot about my book. It's called Notches, in case I never mentioned it. It's a dilly of a pickle of a book. I'm going to imagine that it will be a hard sell for any publisher because it's as graphic as the day is long, and contains many things that make people feel squicky, like teenage sex, drinking, and drug use. Meh. I think the thing that also has agents running for the hills is the non-traditional structure of the story. But this is something that I'm rethinking right now.

In the original version, Natasha gets knocked down a few pegs, and her life definitely changes, but things stay mostly on an even keel. But after really thinking about it, I think that Tash needs to lose everything. You know, in the way that protags lose everything: i.e. friends stop talking to them, jobs are lost, they are utterly alone in the universe, etc. And while I don't think Tash is going to lose her job at the ice cream shop (unless...), I think she's definitely going to have to lose her support system for a bit.

I've figured out the cataclysmic event that sets the rest of it in motion, it's just...I'm going to end up rewriting the final third of the book.

I don't know if you've ever written a novel while holding down a full time job and a couple of part time ones, but it's difficult to find the kind of blocks of time you need to get back into the characters.

*sigh*

I don't know when I'm going to do it, especially because I have other writing projects on my mind right now. I have the other YA book I'm writing (needs chapter 5 and beyond), I have the adult novel (for which I have come up with a kickass first sentence), not to mention the OWC stuff (I'd give that up, but it's like eating candy and I ain't giving up candy). So, I'm a tad screwed.

This April, I will have been trying to get an agent for a solid year. M'not discouraged, though. No siree Bob. If anything, I'm more fired up than ever.

I'm also very sleepy.

*headdesk*

~Hero

Still Thinking

You know, the very best films are the ones that you keep thinking about long after you're done watching them. The first movie that really followed me around for days, got under my skin, was The Ice Storm. It's an Ang Lee film based on a fabulous book by Rick Moody. There was just something about that movie (and book) that keep my mind running for at least a week afterwards. Great score by Mychael Danna too. Anyhoo, I feel like Juno fits into this category of 'movie that gets under your skin.' And I had a really interesting conversation with my friend P over the weekend that actually made me reconsider my initial thoughts about the film.

So yeah, spoilers, ho!

P seemed to think that Bleeker's character was more a symbol than anything else. A symbol in almost a mythological way. You know, how the chicks in mythology are sort of idealized, but you don't get to know them that well. And you're thinking, what's so great about Penelope or Helen of Troy or whoever? Why bother coming back after so damn long? I'll tell you why, because those characters are symbols. You don't really need to see them being totally Supercool and awesome because they don't need to prove anything to you, thank you very much. I think this is a fascinating insight and I thank P for explaining it to me. Keep in mind, however, that I still disagree and think that Paulie should have been drawn more sharply, but that's my own humble opinion.

Also, congrats to Diablo Cody on her Oscar win, and Kudos to the tattoo artist who did the pinup girl on her shoulder. Hott.

A writer's perspective on Juno

Last week, J and I went to see Juno. This is a charming, delightful film that has gotten itself nominated for a bunch of things, including Academy Awards. And while I loved the film and would see it a dozen more times, I had a writerly (that's what J called it) problem with it.

Don't read any further if you haven't seen Juno and you really want to.

Because there are spoilers here.

Yes, that's right, spoilers.

Below here.

So stop reading.

You know, if you don't plan to see the movie.

Everyone okay? Good.

Juno is brilliantly acted and had some of the funniest dialogue since Superbad. Michael Cera, a Superbad alumnus, plays Paulie Bleeker, father of Juno's baby. He is an amazing actor and a superfunny one at that, but he wasn't in as much of the movie as I thought, and I was a bit disappointed by that. It turns out that his relative absence was not just a personal issue, I thought it really hurt the dramatic arc of the movie. The whole point is that Juno becomes disillusioned by stuff I won't go into here, and has an argument with Paulie so they're on the outs.

Rapidly losing faith in humanity and love, she has a heart-to-heart talk with her Dad--a staple of any girl coming-of-age film--wherein she asks him can love survive in this crazy-ass world. After the talk, Juno comes to realize that she loves Paulie. It's her big epiphany.

Problem is, Paulie hasn't been in the dramatic action all that much so we're left wondering why she loves him. I know, his distance is part of the point; Juno keeps him at an arm's length throughout the pregnancy. This is her journey alone. I get that. But then give me something to base this love on. A handful of scenes doesn't really do it for me. Give me a flashback, a memory, some more pictures, something else. Just because the best friend states Juno loves Paulie during a conversation early in the movie, it doesn't mean I believe it or her.

This is a topic that has come up among the members of my online writing circle (OWC). The idea that you can write a story in which two people declare love for each other at the end must have a build-up to show where the love comes from. Don't just let me assume that they're soul mates. Show me that they are.

I dunno. Maybe I just like Michael Cera a lot.

I don't want to take away from Diablo Cody's achievement either, which is pretty monumental. Hell, I'd like to be the next DC (but with novels, not scripts), but as a writer, I thought I needed to say something about it. Because, as a writer, I feel like I need to say SOMETHING all the damn time.

~Hero

In the thick of it

I'm trying this again, lads and lasses. My first attempt at legitimate blogging did not last for long, so here I go, here I go, here I go....*sings* here I go. Again. Yeah. So. ANY-way.

I should mention that since I started my first blog over here (the one that went the way of the Tippett*), I have actually begun a professional writing mini-career. I now have gigs writing program notes for the Los Angeles Chamber Orchestra and the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. I've also become quite adept at writing promotional blurbs, and I've been hired to blurb (it's a verb now, don't you know) for the SPCO and the San Francisco Symphony. I still have my blog over at the LACO website so that keeps me off the streets...sometimes. So yeah, I have a decent sideline writing musical stuff.

What I really want to do is direct. Not really. What I really want to do is write fiction and I've been writing it, but I haven't really found anyone to read it (except for my charming, beautiful, fun, smart friends who have, of course, been the best support system a gal could want). In fact, my first novel has now been rejected by about a dozen agents. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. The book is a hard sell: graphic sex and drug use and it all takes place in high school. Hmm. The bright side is that some agents have actually read the thing (or so they say), so I'm glad at least that it's not hidden under the bed. It's out there, scary as that may be. And mixed in with all the rejection, there have been some lovely compliments:

"I'm deeply impressed and would invite you to submit more writing."

"You have great range in your writing."

"I found the concept to be an interesting twist on the traditional teen drama, and the narrative voice was convincing."

Of course, the lovely compliments are followed by "but" or "however." Nevertheless, I am undaunted. I am four chapters into another novel which is less of a hard sell, but at least one agent who has seen it thinks it might be too much like other stuff out there.

I think this is probably like what screenwriters go through: you have to write a movie that's enough like other successful films in order to get the green light, but it has to be unique enough to be its own thing. Maybe I went too far for the first book and not far enough on the second.

I'm in the process of revising the first book for one agent who was very encouraging. I'm trying to make the story arc a bit more traditional. We shall see. It's taking me forever to do because in addition to my mini-career as a writer, I have a maxi-career as a college professor. I'm busy, you see. But that's fine. It's what I want. I'd rather be stretched thin and working like crazy than be worried about where next month's rent is coming from. I have this pipe dream about being so successful as a writer that I get to quit my day job and do nothing but write eight hours a day, but I know that its rather unlikely. A girl can dream, can't she?

~Hero

*"Way of the Tippett" is a phrase my sister and I developed. It refers to Phil Tippett, a special effects guy whose stop-motion animation process--Go-motion!--was subsumed in the 80s by other, more efficient methods of animation. When something dies out unceremoniously, it goes the way of the Tippett. My apologies to Phil, who I've met and who is a peach. He's doing quite well in the special effects world, so don't you worry about Mr. Tippett.