Jumping in

Last week was one of disruption for me. It wasn't all bad disruption, some of it was quite welcome. A phone call with my grandmother that lasted for over an hour. Multiple chats with my parents and friends. A stolen afternoon at the movies because it's still so hot (and still summer! Even though LAUSD disagrees!). Emails and cries for help from students who are struggling, struggling so.

But some of the distractions were most unwelcome. Last weekend ants invaded my bedroom which is also my office. Ants, no big deal right? Kill a few, swat a few, throw up a little trap thingy do from the store, good to go. Wrong. These ants moved in, invited all of their friends, and then threw open the flood gates for every ant in the neighborhood. They created this ant highway in the corner right above my desk. Needless to say, this was not an ideal work environment. Then when the exterminator finally made it over, we found mold behind my bed. Again. A frantic email and call to the landlord and I decided my office was not worth it and I moved out. Slept on the couch all week. Worked at the table. On the floor. Or just didn't work. At least not writing-wise.

But I was determined to make this week different. The ants are gone (knock on everything!) and the mold, well it's still there but c'est la vie. I'm not about to tear into the drywall so I'll let it be. For now. (Ah, landlords, sigh.) So this morning the first thing I did was clean my desk (it's glass and shows dust and dirt horribly). Took everything off, wiped it down, dried it, organized it, and then got to work.

I have a sign on my desk (see above) that used to hang in my seventh grade classroom. I think it's applicable no matter where I'm working. So that's what I did this morning, took a deep breath and jumped in. To the files. To the classroom. To the spec that's not going to write itself.

Were there distractions today? Yes. Will there be tomorrow? Probably. But guess what? I must push on. Jump in. Regardless. Because frankly, if I don't do my job and tell my stories, who will?

Survivors

Angela and I have been back in California a month now, back from a glorious four week vacation in Michigan. Back from not thinking about jobs and money and worries and life. Back from bonfires and central air conditioning and fireflies and cuddly babies and family and love. But we're back. In Los Angeles.

School started two weeks ago for me, I'm teaching again, online, and it's going well. I've got a new system for organizing my classes. I'm corresponding with students via email and phone and text message. It's keeping me busy. I've also had a job interview, applied for hundreds others, and have started writing. A little. Not as much as I should because it's hot. And that's not an excuse but a reality. It's hot. FREAKING HOT. Outside. In my house. In my office. It's so hot my phone almost quit the other day. It's so hot Angela's brand new birthday Tervis tumblers together and had to be returned. It's so hot that I got sick on Friday. It's so hot my brain barely works. So we've seen a lot of movies, walked through all of Los Angeles's mall and hate to get out of our cars. Did I mention it's hot? I won't again. I promise. (Unless my brain breaks again and I need another excuse.)

School started one week ago for Angela. She's working as a long-term sub for the 4th year in a row. If she's lucky, she gets to work at the same school in the same room for a semester. If she's not, she'll likely not work at all. Welcome to a new solution to the budget crisis by the school district. Welcome to teaching sixth graders their multiplication tables. But the thing? She's a FREAKING ROCKSTAR. A complete and utter trooper. She does her job like the National Board Certified Teacher she is. She does the job better than most people I've ever seen in a classroom or out. She does it and she does it so well.

This weekend we celebrated her birthday with a BBQ with some great friends (a real blessing because it's been a very long month) and then walking around Santa Monica taking in the ocean breezes. This weekend we struggled. This weekend we laughed and we cried and we did our jobs (yep, both of us worked both days this weekend) and we watched TV and saw movies and ate cake. We survive. Because, really, is there any other option? Survivors survive. And that's what we'll do. Even if it's HOT in here. Come on September, bring up some relief....

Four years from now? Nope, today!

Like many people in the world, I've spent the last 17 days watching the Olympics. We streamed some of the swimming competitions online to avoid hearing spoilers (swimming is by far my favorite sport - I really prefer the sports that are not judged, simply won). We watched the four to five hours of coverage each night on NBC (though some nights we DVRed it and then fast-forwarded through volleyball, a sport I just am not that in to). And sometimes I'd find myself turning on the TV during the day to see what was happening (especially on the weekends). And yet, I still didn't see most of the sports or competitions that went on in London. But what I did see amazed me. It moved me. It inspired me.

What inspired me most was that these athletes have the chance to compete on this stage just once every four years. They train for over 14,000 days to prepare for, in some cases, one shot at the gold. And it got me thinking. I train for the "gold" in my field some days. Not even most lately. I was on vacation and didn't write at all, and since I've been back, well, these fingers have typed more blogs than screenplays (which isn't saying much). Yes, there are excuses. It's summer, it's too hot in here, there's work (that pays actual money) to be done.

Blah blah blah.

I'm pretty sure Oscar Pistorius runs in the heat. I'm pretty sure Missy Franklin still works out when she has algebra homework.

And here's the rub. I don't have to wait four years for my chance to shine. Hollywood makes movies and television shows year-round. They're doing it right now. They'll be doing it tomorrow. And they want good stories, right? Right. (I'm saying this over and over in my head to psych myself up.) Recently I paid some money to a wonderful coach to help me improve my writing and I've realized, I really need to take advantage of that. And so I am. Now. Not tomorrow. Right now. Even though I'm tired and I really want to curl up in front of the fans (yep, two pointed at my bed) and read Time.

But instead? I'm going to publish this blog and open up the script I'm working on because I've had a new opening scene running through my head all day and I've just been too preoccupied and lazy to write it down. So here's me, putting my money where my mouth is and being inspired.

"I am responsible for my dreams."

-- anonymous 

Jack, age 1

One year ago today I got a frantic phone call. There had been an early morning wake up call at the house next door to my parents. Ambulance and all. It had been a long summer there already, one that saw my parents taking care of the little girls who lived there a lot of the time, switching off with their other grandma, while their mom was in the hospital and their dad was tending to her and working. A long summer, yes, but one no one thought twice about changing or getting away from. See all the early mornings with the girls, all the worry and prayer? It culminated one year ago today when this little guy made his appearance, a little earlier than he was supposed to:

Angela and Jack, July 2012 (11 mos. old)

One of the many things I love about my family is their ability to make awesome friends. Seriously. We have one of the biggest networks of extended family members I've ever come across. We get to know you and then you're stuck with us. This goes triple if you live next door to my parents and have three little ones who become instant grandbabies. First there was a new baby next door, seven years ago:

Emma (7 yrs. old)

Then came this crazy little thing who giggles and gets grumpy (which we all love) four years ago:

Lucy (4 yrs. old)

And then last summer introduced us to the third grandneighbor:

Tom & Chris with grandneighbor Jack

It wasn't an ideal introduction to the world from anyone's perspective. Jack and his momma almost didn't make it. But doctors do awesome things and God rocks and well, this summer I got to spend a lot of time catching fireflies and playing hide and seek with his sisters and a lot of time cuddling with Mister Jack and welcoming him to the neighborhood.

Jenny & Jack

Jack and his momma are doing fine now. Jack loves Chinese food like his sister Lucy and can knock down a very tall set of blocks. When I last saw him a few weeks ago he was crawling (which is CRAZY because he wasn't when I first got to Michigan just a few weeks before that) and ready to run at any second. And all I can say is that these neighbors on North Michigan Avenue are pretty thankful to have those neighbors in our lives. Happy 1st Birthday, Jack! We love you! (and your whole family!)

Chris, Sarah, Angela, Jack & Tom (July 2012)