How I spent my Thanksgiving vacation...

THANKSGIVING 11/26/09

I just got up and already it’s getting dark.  I ache all over and the bed was so comforting.   This is the first time I haven't spent the whole holiday weekend in the newsroom since as far back as I can remember.  Now that I'm laid off, I have no invitations.

Yesterday, when the cardiologist admonished me to “be careful tomorrow” I though he was talking about driving and the traffic on the roads.  But he added, “It’s the most dangerous meal of the year.”  He had no idea what I had planned for Thanksgiving.

I finished doing my writing in the afternoon...

...and I was so pleased with myself that I did get up, get dressed and drive the empty streets to see a  documentary about my hero, William Kuntsler.  There I ran into a posse of left-wing baby-boomers who had devoted the holiday to a virtuous double feature: An End to Poverty in the afternoon, and Disturbing the Universe in the evening.

To assert my red cred,  I had to invoke my Thanksgiving with the Wampanoag at Plymouth 25 years ago.

 "Since 1970, Native Americans have gathered at noon on Cole’s Hill in Plymouth to commemorate a National Day of Mourning on the US Thanksgiving holiday. Many Native Americans do not celebrate the arrival of the Pilgrims and other European settlers. To them, Thanksgiving Day is a reminder of the genocide of millions of their people, the theft of their lands, and the relentless assault on their culture. Participants in a National Day of Mourning honor Native ancestors and the struggles of Native peoples to survive today. It is a day of remembrance and spiritual connection as well as a protest of the racism and oppression which Native Americans continue to experience.”  http://www.kensavage.com/archives/wampanog-native-americans/ 

Of course, after the tour of the sites of lynchings and burned treaties, we went home for a dinner of turkey and  homemade pie.

                                                             ***********************

11/27/09 and 11/28/09 Days after Thanksgiving

Arturo and the crew came in to clean while I was still sleeping.

 They brought me a massive tin of leftover turkey and ham and dressing, and a plate of pumpkin pie and flan.  I don't feel bad.  They make more money than I do now.

I don't remember too much  after that. I took a couple of pain killers (feels like a broken rib but can't be) but the medication has had no effect except to stupefy me. Stupefaction, not so bad on a holiday weekend.

I know I didn't get out of pajamas for two days.  And for my birthday on Saturday I just lay in bed watching Masterpiece Mysteries until 4 a.m.  I love that British TV.  Do you know Rebecca Eaton's been EP'ing that show since before I worked at 'GBH in 1982?  I still have no idea what she does but she always gets thanked at the Emmys.

I could have gone to see "A Hard Day's Night" or "The 39 Steps," but that would have taken way too much effort, like taking a shower or putting on shoes.  I can watch both of those movies on my 19-inch 1985 tv (with no remote control because that cost more) which I inherited from my parents' estate.  I have both movies on tape.  Yeah tape.  Somewhere.

Sunday 11/29/09

Today is for homework.    I woke up from another dream about being pursued by murderers.  Fleeing in cars, boats, the open sea.  And then I turn around and my books are being taken away, given away, thrown away.  What do you think that means?

TV series I've recorded on VHS and never watched but will keep forever

I'm always running four vcr's.  This is a partial list: Every episode of West Wing after the first one.  Every episode of Lost after the first or second season.  Battlestar Galactica.  Torchwood.  Doctor Who.  The third season of Mad Men though I never watched the first two.  Season one of Dexter when it was on CBS.  The last season of the Chris Isaak Show.  Johnny Staccato. Jericho.  Life on Mars (American and British). Ashes to Ashes, the sequel. The Inside Room. The 4400.  The Nine. EZ Streets. 30 Days. 60 Minutes. Every PBS documentary about Jews, the Bible, about 50% of their docs on Iraq and Afghanistan. Independent Lens. Have Gun Will Travel which I dubbed from the Time Life Series subscription before returning the originals.  Vanished.  Kidnapped.  Pasadena.

Shows I've watched but keep in the archive: Grounded for Life, Law and Order Criminal Intent, Agatha Christie's Poirot, Masterpiece Mystery most shows,  The Ben Stiller Show, The 90's, TV Nation and The Awful Truth, Cadfael Mysteries.  Brooklyn Bridge I have on Betacam from taping it at work.

DVD sets I owned but have never opened:  Wonderfalls, I Claudius, The Prisoner, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Hercule Poirot, Nowhere Man. Buffy the Vampire Slayer seasons 1 and 2.

This doesn't even touch the classic movies I got from taping TCM and AMC around the clock for the first couple of years I had cable.  Every movie Barbara Stanwyck was in, Bette Davis, William Powell, Myrna Loy, Marilyn Monroe, Cary Grant, Bogey and Bacall.  Joan Blondell, Ann Sothern.  (can you tell them apart?) Doris Day. Rock Hudson. Betty Hutton.   I stopped cataloging years ago when I got up over 400.   I love that Robert Osborne even though he believed Mama Cass died from choking on a ham sandwich.

There are thousands of video cassettes here of all formats and sizes  and dozens of dvd's.  How can I ever move house?

Are you kidding me?

My teacher thinks I'm a writer: Funny Gal will just come up with something.  Are you kidding me?  I'm lazy and shallow and just want to watch tv.  I wish I was David Rakoff, though he says for him writing is like pulling teeth... through his penis.  The man has a degree from Columbia.  I spent my college years fighting the man, which meant going to teach-ins and rallies or getting high and hanging out on the quad.  I majored in TV for chrissakes!

However, I think I'm beginning to  hear the voice.  The voice tells me to get serious about writing.  People have been telling me for years I should be writing (or doing stand-up.  Come On!)  I always said, "Writers write.  If I was supposed to be writing I'd be doing it."  Now I want to do it.

Oh yeah, last night someone told me I should be teaching at UCLA. I said, "Teaching what?" and he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Anything."  I do not know where that came from.

oh my gawd!

Every day I've had the intention to wake up earlier and earlier because Wednesday I have to get to Burbank at 9 a.m. for an all day class, nine hours, followed by a three-hour  meeting in Hollywood. I want to be a grown up.  I want to be a professional.  But 27 years of staying up all night and sleeping till the afternoon is apparently a hard habit to break.

I was in the bed, lights out, by 1:30, half drugged.  By 3 my brain was still tumeling so I took the other half of the pill.  Success!  I was up at 9:15! ...and down again by 9:20.  I must have turned off the high expectation alarm last night.  The next time I woke it was 1:50 PM!

Who needs to travel when I have dreams like mine?  Maybe it was the generic Xanax, but the people have become less threatening and I am not as left out.  Today, there was a HUGE high school reunion at a hotel/my house. As usual, for some reason I was not participating in the socializing and after everyone left I was worried about whether the costs were covered. People seemed to be reassuring me not to worry about it.

Scene change, someone helped me find some small item that was missing (instead of my having to scream and cry in frustration like I usually do) and then, at a cafe, a few other people were concerned with their own thing (something about an audio level, and "You're Jewish?" not even directed at me).  I was cool.  Why wake up from that?

I'll tell you why! I have a list. A color-coded "ordered list," in project management parlance.  Six major tasks that I wanted to complete this weekend, which leaves only today.  And the only things that were complete are not on the list!  I gotta go...

Do I need a pedicure?

Fractured fifth metatarsal

IgNobel Prize Winner

Bra-mask: Chicago researcher invents bra that doubles as face mask -- chicagotribune.com

Posted using ShareThis

IgNobel Prize

http://www.chicagotribune.com/features/chi-talk-bra-maskoct29,0,4631334.story

how cool is this?

Dream Project Video

What if this is my process?

What if I can't produce anything until the last minute?  I put it off and put it off because I'm afraid I won't be able to do it.  I don't know what kind of files Final Cut Express can import.  I just learned how to make an audio file.  At least I know the saved photos will go in.  If I can import everything I can mix the audio track.  But I've never mixed audio tracks in Final Cut.  I don't know how to do that. You'd think I'd realize I need the extra time.

[By the way, I broke my toe this morning (if you can call 3pm 'morning.' it's when i woke up.  what are single quotes for, anyway?)  My foot's turning black and the tape won't stick because the Arnica is slippery.]


I'm thinking again of "Overpraised Child" syndrome.  A study was done by Carol Dweck and described by Po Bronson in New York Magazine.  http://nymag.com/news/features/27840/ I call it "The Story of My Life."

 Dweck discovered that those who think that innate intelligence is the key to success begin to discount the importance of effort. I am smart, the kids’ reasoning goes; I don’t need to put out effort. Expending effort becomes stigmatized—it’s public proof that you can’t cut it on your natural gifts.

Repeating her experiments, Dweck found this effect of praise on performance held true for students of every socioeconomic class. It hit both boys and girls—the very brightest girls especially (they collapsed the most following failure).

What I'm sayin'!

 Look at this.  Someone recently posted this comment under the article.  Also, similar to "The Story of My Life."

Oooh this really hits home for me. As a smart little girl whose whose 99.9 percentile aptitude tests hung on the family fridge, I felt pressured, different, only did the things I was naturally good at in school , which didn't even take much effort at all- and blew off everything else. Luckily for my career I'm a workaholic type in my chosen field, but today even as an adult I have a strong tendency to defeatism and self criticism, a sometimes very unhelpful perfectionism and massive fear of faliure. I've been to two Ivies and won many awards in my work but still feel like terrified to take the big risks that would be a career breakthrough for me - because I'm terrified to fail. It makes me feel lazy when in fact I'm risk adverse. When it comes to developing skills at things I'm less good at : more socializing, dating, managing my accounting, I have a million excuses to not put the work in- since I've already decided if Im not 100% great at these things I should just give up.

So, Im gonna read more about neuroplasticity, give myself some more tasks in my weak areas , get into embracing faliure and resilience and I am DEFINITELY going to praise my students for working hard, not being smart. Veeeery interesting.

BY on 10/05/2009 at 2:24 am

Neuroplasticity.  That's the ticket!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuroplasticity

PRO-O-O-CRASTINA-A-TION

It is astonishing how long I can stay in bed when there's something I'm afraid to do looming in front of me.  I have two school projects that are scaring me.  I have only the vaguest notion of how I'm going to accomplish them though I did have a brainstorm about combining them. I woke about 9:30, still a little tired since I went to bed around 3.  So I lay down for a little more sleep or rest.  I didn't count on falling back down into delta.   What dreams:  lost in the university's lower lever halls, lugging a crate of books up a mountain trail to the discard pile and bringing them down again,  smoking in the newsroom and breaking other rules.  All the while surrounded by well dressed professional people who knew what was going on while I didn't.

It's now 2:40.  Immediately after flinging open the curtains I turned around and slammed my toes into an unused exercise machine.  Nice.  Now I have two damaged feet, the one that's been treated for the last six months and the other one now with possibly a couple of broken toes.  I'm used to the fractures.  My bones have been breaking since teenage.  I say they're made of sugar candy.  Really they're more like pretzel sticks or twigs.  Anyway, my bones break easily.  (Puleez don't try to give me advice about drugs and diet. I know all about it.) But I'm so sick of not being able to walk.  My legs are so weak I can barely go half a mile.  What if I had to run for my life?

So no Geffen for me tonight.  Work, work, work and laundry.  That show has closed three times already without my getting to see it.  I thought unemployment would mean free time, but I chose to punish myself instead.  My fellow deadbeats are having gourmet lunches and taking out of town jaunts.  And I'm slogging through adult college like running in dreams, with legs of stone.

I gotta go ice my toes while the coffee's brewing.

NOT GAY ENOUGH!

Went to my  first West Hollywood Halloween Carnaval last night, without planning to.   So I didn't bring my camera and had to rely on the talents of a friend.  Gotta say, it was kinda disappointing.  There were countless devils, nurses and pirates but not one Obama.  Hundreds of Japanese tourists but all the geishas were of Caucasian persuasion.  I saw six balloon boys, four Fred Flintstones, two Thurston Howells III, nearly a dozen Pharaohs and Cleopatras, but so not enough drag or humor.  Yes, there was an unusual number of 7-foot-tall men, some of them in tiny tiny skirts but sadly, this was not the queer fantasia I’d imagined from cutting Carnaval highlights for the news all these years.

I was extremely impressed with one gilded royal couple.  It was the stony black lipsticked expressions as much as the elaborate raiment that moved me. Though that scepter was pretty shiny.  Doesn't look as good in the photo.

Anyway, it's nice to see "the kids" having fun.






Created with flickr slideshow.
Looks like it got better after I left  http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-west-hollywood-halloween-2009-pano,0,7999158.htmlstory and http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-halloween1-2009nov01,0,509390.story?track=rss  Lesson Learned:  Don't go to the WeHo Halloween Carnaval when it's still early.  When it's early, it's lame.

PAJAMA DAY... and not in a good way

Wouldn’t get out of bed for THREE HOURS on Friday because I had to make a decision about taking another class. By the end of the day I'd nearly become one with my pajamas.  I really thought I could get up and go for the editing session I need to do for Thursday's class but I so didn't want to do it.  This is not looking good.  Haven’t been this sloggy for months.  However, the good news is I used to be like this every  day.  Thought it was because I got into the habit when I was recovering from surgery. Or just sleeping late every single day when I had nothing to do but go to work and earn that ungodly high paycheck for doing too much of nothing.  But it's just reluctance to live my life.  Or make decisions.  Or be a grown-up.  I felt that day like I was being sucked down into quicksand.  Do you remember when every week someone was sinking in quicksand or getting swept away by lava on Tarzan?  Those are still my two of biggest fears (there MAY have been quicksand in Brooklyn).  The other two are dwarves and conjoined twins.  Oh god... I can't even stand to type those words.

blogtracknov2.egg on Aviary.