I just need one

I’m kind of freaking out. It’s Thursday of my first week of spring break from the elementary school where I work each morning. It’s also the first week of the new quarter for my online university where I work each day. It’s 8:45am. I’m doing with the online stuff. I even prepped my postings for next week knowing I’ll be a bit busier next week. But I’m done. I’ve checked all my emails. I’ve read Facebook and Twitter several times over. I’ve read my Lenten devotion. I’ve read the paper. Yes, I need to make the bed and shower but other than that? I’m done for the day. It kind of freaks me out.

I’ve sent my “Good Wife” script out to some people to read and I’m awaiting feedback. So there’s nothing left to do there. Two rewrites and I’m done, which is weird for me. I don’t have another script to work on right now. Yes. I have a pilot that needs another go but I’m not sure I’m mentally or emotionally ready to bring those characters back into my life at the moment. They’ve been with me three years. A long three years. And they’re on vacation now. It’s good for them. And me.

I need to keep writing. But I don’t have anything to write. It’s so weird. I want to write. I have time to write but instead, I have to think. Ugh. The hard part of the job for me is always plotting. Making the story make sense in my head before writing it down. That invisible labor Victor Hugo speaks so fondly of. 

I have a novel that is perched center on my desk (I have an L-shaped desk, so it’s in the center of the other side of the desk). It needs to be edited. So badly. It cries to me every day. But I really don’t know where to begin or what to do. I wish I did. It wants to be seen. It wants to be read. I want that too. 

My to-do list is dwindling. It has things on it like ‘rewrite Trophy Husbands’ – oh, okay self, I’ll just rewrite an entire movie. Sure, no biggie for today. It also has on it ‘come up with new ideas’ – oh, okay, check. Moving on, what’s next.

New ideas. New characters. It’s scary. It’s exciting, yes, but it’s even more scary. I want to write a spec script of ‘Community’. I have the vaguest inkling of an idea. Really just four words. Not enough to write about. I need more.

I have an idea for a half-hour sitcom but really, it’s someone else’s idea, from a book, and I need to make it my own. It’s hard because the book was freaking awesome.

What to do? I know, a high-class problem. I’ll probably do some laundry. Make the bed. Shower, maybe curl my hair. I might attempt to make some Easter cards. Maybe I’ll watch “The Sweet Smell of Success” which has been sitting by the TV for way too long. Good thing Netflix doesn’t charge late fees. Maybe I’ll watch some ‘Community’ and try to be inspired. 

I need a good idea. Just one. Or a hundred. I’m not picky. Here goes…

Runyon Canyon

The view from part-way up! Today a friend and I went hiking. Right here in the middle of Los Angeles. Yep. I'd always heard of the mystical 'Runyon Canyon'. Celebrities boast of exercising there. People talk of Saturday mornings running the hills. But for some reason, I envisioned it as a far-off place I probably would never get to. Until my friend informed me that it was just down the street from our church and very easy to get to. And a gorgeous hike.

She was right on all accounts. We parked on the street and walked to the entrance. Easy as pie. There were people there, yes, lots of people but it didn't feel crowded. There were lots of dog walkers, some people with strollers, older people, younger people, even a few celebrities (CCH Pounder and Jeff Perry). But mostly, there were just people there to hike. To walk (and occasionally run, those people were crazy!) and enjoy the quietness of the hills, the sun before it got too hot, the dirt and the grass and the birds and the insects that all seem to elude us down a few blocks into the city.

My friend and I stopped a lot. We took in the views of the city before us. We caught our breath. We made sure the footing was stable before moving upward. But we also talked and laughed and got our heart rates up. There is nothing like a goal to keep you moving and pretty much, you have to go up to go down again!

A beautiful day. A beautiful hike. I can't wait to go again!
The view from the top!

Finishing

There's this great feeling that comes with the end of a project. Being able to cross something off a to-do list. Having a weight, however small and insignificant to others, being shook from your shoulders.

I had a deadline. Self-imposed but those are often the toughest ones, in my opinion. No one else cares if you finish. No one will berate you for turning your work in late or missing the end of the work day or anything like that.

I told myself at the beginning of the week that I'd have a finished draft of the "Good Wife" spec script I've been working on done by Sunday. In time to share it with my writers' group. Those are important words - I told myself. This wasn't a deadline set by anyone else. More often than not 75% of the writers' group doesn't bring pages or anything to share with the group. It would be no big deal if I missed this deadline.

It's been a long week. We finally got heat in the house tonight after living without it in the rain and cold for seven days. I'm starting a new quarter with the University of Phoenix tomorrow and I had to prep two classes. Excuses excuses...

But ultimately, it's all about, it's only about, what I think. If I keep the deadlines for myself, then I prove to myself I can do it. I care enough to do it. Is it a great draft? No. Is it a shooting draft. No. It's what my favorite writing inspiration, Anne Lamott would call a "shitty first draft". But that's okay. In fact, that's exactly what it should be. It's just me getting the bones of the story out and on to paper. Now I can play with them. Now I can form them into the story they should be. This is a draft just for me. This is a draft that will only vaguely resemble the final draft.

But it's done. I finished it. And for that I am ecstatic. One more mile passed. On to the next one.

Ten on Tuesday

Ten ways I feel loved...

1. Mail. Regular old snail mail. I have three new cards hanging around my desk from last week. I have fabulous friends and family members. They send me these little notes of love periodically and there is no more joy than opening up the mailbox and finding one tucked into the junk and bills. And I love how my moms (yep, mom #1 and mom #2) put stickers on the envelopes. Sometimes I hang the envelopes up with the cards. And yes, I still have one of the stickers on my bulletin board but don't ask me where the card went.
2. Electronically. Whether it's a 'like' on my Facebook status, a text in the middle of the day or a long long email, I love these little messages. Love love love them.
   
3. When people say 'I love you'. Most phone conversations with friends and family end this way. Sometimes I have to make a conscious effort, sometimes it happens more naturally. Either way, I've never regretted saying it, only regretted not saying it. Recently I had a friend, my first friend in L.A. as a matter of fact, move away. At our last coffee date he walked me back to my car and we embraced on the street corner. I said, "I love you" -- something I couldn't remember saying aloud to him before even though our emails always end in xoxo -- and he said it back. As I brushed away the tears I thought to myself how right it felt. Because when we love people, we should tell them so.
4. A smile or a quick little wave. My kids at the elementary school are good at this. They do the little T-rex, short-armed wave thing. It's so cute, I know it's meant to be secret and I love it.
   
5. My jewelry. The ring on my finger is my birthstone -- pink surrounded by gold. I received it as a gift on my sixteenth birthday from my mom, dad, sister and Grandma MacDonald. I wear it most days and it makes me feel safe. I constantly rub the back of it to remind me of that fact.
6. Where I am. Who I am. I would never be here in Los Angeles, California if it weren't for the hundreds of people who've shown me their love over the past thirty-three years. Every time I think about how I made it here, the journey, I see the faces of so many.
7. Complete strangers. The guy who rolled down his truck window and told me to check my tire pressure. He had no earthly reason for doing that. But he did and I was floored. (I also needed A LOT more air in my tires!) The checker at the grocery store who calls me honey and always smiles with recognition whenever I get in her lane. She doesn't know my name but she knows I shop there and she genuinely asks how my day's going.
8. Angela sharing her bed with me. It's cold in our house. Right now I'm not at my desk, I'm sitting in the front room closest to the window with the sunshine because the pilot's out again and there's no heat. We lost heat two days ago. But Angela has been sharing her bed with me because her room's warmer. And she doesn't complain. (Well, not a lot!)
   
9. Somehow, and only through the grace of God, I know, I'm still in my house, working, paying the bills, buying groceries, etc. I am so blessed that God continues to provide for me. So blessed.
10. People read what I write. It's true and it's astonishing to me. Between my blog, my Facebook ramblings, my scripts that I take to my writers' group, my friends who read my work when they probably would rather be doing anything but, etc. I am loved. Completely and utterly loved.
    

Just living

Last night was the first night I’d watched the news since the earthquake and tsunami in Japan on Friday. I’m not a regular news watcher, most of it’s too depressing and I tend to skew more toward John Stewart for my political news. I do read the L.A. Times every day, I read Newsweek and Time, and I’m hyper plugged into the digital world so I feel I get enough. But last night Ang and I watched the evening news after we ate our dinner and the pictures were heartbreaking. Then they started talking about the potential here in California for radiation poisoning (there isn’t a potential, just so we’re all on the same page) and for an earthquake of our own (that, they’re not so sure about – you can predict them but they do come in clusters). After that I read the Newsweek that had come in the mail, the one, of course, about Japan. And I started to think.

That thinking drove me to the hardware store on my way home from work today. Apparently I was not alone in my thinking since I got the last 2 small emergency kits left. We already have one here at the house, the one my mom and I bought Ang last year, but I figured we couldn’t be over prepared. Plus, Angela had heard a presentation on earthquake preparedness at a meeting a few weeks ago and they suggested you keep kits in your car. So, these are for the cars.

The odd thing about all of this, at least as I sit here and think about it? I’m not scared. I’m not panicked or worried really. There’s not much I can do. I bought the emergency kits. We have 2 battery powered lanterns and we have batteries for them. We have food in the cupboards that’s canned. Here’s the real rub of it though – we can’t ever really be prepared for something like the devastation that has been rained down upon Japan. We just can’t. So instead, I prepare, I pray, and I go on with my life.

How can I live in California? I’m often asked by people who don’t live here. What about the wildfires and the earthquakes? Well, in Michigan we had tornadoes. We had ice storms that caused deaths. We had heat waves that caused deaths. You’re not immune wherever you might be. And so we go on. Preparing, yes, praying, yes, but most off all? Just living. Because really, that’s all we can do.

Keeping the faith

Today 5,000 teachers were pink slipped in in the Los Angeles public school district. FIVE THOUSAND. Add that to the 3,500 laid off last year and the 2,500 laid off the year before that. ELEVEN THOUSAND TEACHERS LAID OFF.

How does a school system already on it's last legs, already showing huge signs of failing, recover from that. How does this generation of children recover from that. Right now Angela has more kids in her classroom than I'm guessing the Fire Marshall would sanction. She has 39 kids in each of her classes. Just close your eyes and picture that. Thirty-nine sixth graders. One adult. Chinese history. How much learning do you think is happening? How much of the time is spent on discipline? How much individual help do those special education students get (and she has many, many special education students).

I don't care what your political leanings are. I don't care what you think about taxes or politicians or a woman's right to abortion or the death penalty. What I care about tonight is the fact that all of these teachers are being laid off. These wonderful, newly minted, excited teachers. And it's not just teachers. It's counselors and secretaries and assistant principals. There have been several suicide attempts at the local middle school lately. What happens when the counselors only work one day a week because they have to cover more than one campus?

This isn't the solution. Neither is cutting back on police officers or fire fighters. Shuttering libraries isn't good either. I have no idea what the solution is. I just know that we need to find it. We need to get good teachers, young teachers, back in the classroom. NOW. We need to stop firing teachers. We need to stop demonizing teachers. If you had to do their job for one day, how might you fare?

I pray things change though I don't know how much faith I have in the system anymore. But, all it takes is a mustard seed right? And you know what keeps me believing more than anything? Those teachers, like Angela and all the others I know, who go to work every day, despite being pink slipped, and keep trying to teach Chinese history to a room overflowing with children. They're doing their jobs. They're fighting. And at some point, somehow, we'll figure out how to help them. We have to...

Lenten devotional

Matthew 6:1-6

"Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven."

¹ “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.

² “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. ³ But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, ⁴ so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

⁵ “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. ⁶ But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

I grew up in the church. My parents served on every board, my grandfather was the church custodian for years, and there was never any question on Sunday morning as to what we’d be doing. We would be at church. It wasn’t something we talked about, it was something we did. It was who we were.

And then in high school a national movement began called ‘See You At The Pole’ – where students would meet around the flagpole and pray in an effort to – well, I’m not sure, maybe raise awareness about their faith? I don’t know because I wasn’t there. I didn’t ever feel the need to head out early, one day a year, to gather in front of my school and proclaim to the town, well, to the students, parents and teachers mostly, that I was a Christian. That’s not how I was raised.

I was raised to help clean up after Sunday brunches and funeral luncheons at the church. I was raised to jump in and give a hand when the nursery was understaffed or the church sidewalks needed salting. I was raised to do what needed to be done, not talk about what needed to be done. And that’s still how I view my church service, and my faith, today.

Don’t get me wrong. I wear a cross necklace occasionally, I let others know I’m praying for them, I share my faith when I find an appropriate time. But I also make sure that I remember to act out my faith when no one’s looking, when it’s just God and me.

I chose this verse for my devotional mostly as a reminder to myself. At the end of the verse Matthew reminds us that our Father sees what we do in secret and He will reward us. Yes, it’s good to go out and spread the Word and to be a part of society and share our faith. But it’s also important to remember our relationship when no one else is around. Something I’ll try to refocus on this Lenten season as we prepare to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection again.

PRAYER: Dear God, I beg of you to help me remember that the most important parts of our relationship are those that are secret, just between us. You want nothing more than for me to go into my room and close the door and pray, alone, to you. And I want the same. Thank you for reminding me of that. Amen.

Barenaked Ladies!

Last night I headed out to another taping of "The Big Bang Theory". It's become something we do every few months with a few friends and it's such fun. Yeah we wait in line for a few hours and then we sit cramped in with 200 other audience members for a few more hours but it's all a lot of fun. We get to watch the cast and crew work, see two brand-new episodes (the one taped the week before and the one performed live that night). And last night we got a surprise:

If you're a regular BBT watcher, you'll know that The Barenaked Ladies perform their theme song. And last night the Barenaked Ladies were there in the studio and they performed the entire theme song (yep, it has more than one verse!) after the curtain call. So cool! I've never been a big concert goer but this was much more intimate than I've ever experienced, especially with a band I've loved for a long time. Too fun! (The photo above was taken from a cast members' Twitter feed as no cameras or cell phones were allowed in last night.)

Not stuck in the middle

I'm having a hard week writing-wise. The problem is I'm not in the middle of a project. I have to start a new project. Yes, there are some rewrites I should do. Do I want to? No. Not right now. The scabs are just healing and I need them gone before I just sit and pick. I need fresh eyes on those projects. And a real reason to rewrite.

I began a new spec last week - I decided to write an episode of a very popular one-hour drama. I have had this newspaper clip in my files since the fall and it's been marinating, inspiring me to create a story from the idea. And I started to. Then I did some research and today found out that the governor of the state my show is set in might change a law that would make my story obsolete. So I wait and ponder. Again, not writing.

It's a bit frustrating but I'll get through it. I just have to remember that soon enough I'll wish I was done with the new project or just starting again. It was like that before, it'll be like that soon enough again. Until then, I'll read. I'll ponder. I'll finish the Eiffel Tower cross-stitch I'm working on. I'll go for another walk. And I'll try to find solace in one of my favorite quotes:

A man is not idle because he is absorbed in thought. There is a visible labor and there is an invisible labor. -- Victor Hugo