Friday, February 27, 2004
Here is a conundrum. As part of my job, I now write and publish a couple of articles a week on the Web. They, are usually, admittedly, on very boring topics. Still, I put a lot of time into them (because I have to), and they do provide an easy way to show family and friends what I'm up to during daylight hours. Yet it has been near-impossible to get anyone to read what I write (with a couple of kind exceptions). Yes, okay, I admit these pieces are boring and would not be part of anyone's daily reading repertoire under ordinary circumstances. But how painful would it be, really, to do me the courtesy of at least an occasional perfunctory read?

Am I right to be annoyed by this? Or have I merely been in Hollywood too long and suffered through too many "listen to me talk about my awesome entertainment job and my super-awesome entertainment ambitions for 20 minutes " monologues? I miss the days when we all toiled in demeaning entry-level positions and preferred to talk about anything except work.

Yes, it is Friday, and yes, I am burnt out from the work week.
My day began yesterday with a 6 a.m. wake-up call and ended 20 hours later with a stomach-roiling Taco Bell snack. If turning 30 has taught me anything, it's that Thursday night should no longer be considered the start of the weekend. One cannot mix an 11-hour work day with an evening of comedy followed by a night of drinking. It was all for a good cause, but had the cause been my own, I would have been in bed by 8 p.m. last night.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
In that last post I initially wrote "oblogatory" instead of "obligatory." Subconsciously clever, no?
My news director here has just been issued a walkie-talkie for today's democratic debate. He's so enamored with his new toy that he's walking around the office with the thing broadcasting static at the maximum volume level. Thank you, BM (yes, those are his initials -- I'm not being an infant).

This reminds me of another boss from a few years back, my senior editor at the obligatory failed dot-com, who saw his company-issued cell phone as proof of his "arrival." On his ride to work in the morning, he would call every other editor in the office to talk, even if there was nothing work-related to discuss. On the way home he would do the same thing. Thank you, PW.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
Apparently Tuesday is the new Monday in my universe. The second day of the week has been full of petty annoyances lately. Today's aggravation comes courtesy of one of my pseudo-bosses, who in an e-mail criticized one of my photo suggestions as "a no-brainer" and "blah." Meantime, it turned out she already had in mind the sort of photo she wanted but never felt compelled to pass that information along to me.

In her follow-up e-mail (after I snipped back at her), she explained to me that she was "being direct, not snide." Uh, I don't believe those qualities to be mutually exclusive, my friend.
Monday, February 23, 2004
In a couple of hours I head off to my fiction-writing class. The thought of it is causing me untold anxiety, the kind I haven't felt since my high school days. Somehow I've put a lot of emotional stake into my performance this semester, as if a successful run will cement in my mind the "rightness" of pursuing writing for the next five or 10 or 20 years.

There is also the fact that pretty much everyone else in the class seems intent on writing a novelized screenplay. People are writing about jewel thieves, futuristic underworlds, lesbian moms and the sons who hate them, mad cow disease-suffering union organizers and the eccentric billionaires who employ them... you get the idea. Drama! Mayhem! Eccentricity! Meantime, I'm struggling with a scrappy little tale about self-discovery. I may have to incorporate a shark attack into the storyline just to appease the class's masses.
I just stunk up the work bathroom with my asparagus-tainted pee. Very embarrassing.
The rain has made my shoes smell like chow mein. This may be a sign that I need to get a new pair of shoes.
Friday, February 20, 2004
Okay, I'm not sure when I'll get the chance to reflect on my trip to Vancouver and the A.Rod deal. So the former, in a word: great. The latter, in two: apocalyptically awful.

Actually, I've calmed down about A.Rod now. Earlier in the week I was dreaming about the Yankees beating the Sox 9-1 in some playoff game at Yankee Stadium and the crowd chanting "A-Rod!" over and over. But by mid-week my REM Curt Schilling was striking out the middle of the Yankee line-up 1-2-3.

Last night I dreamt that I was trapped in Schilling's body and was due to start a game against the Yankees in a few hours. I kept telling the manager, who was Ben Affleck (gag), that I wasn't sure I was ready to pitch, but he kept assuring me I was. Then a kangaroo showed up on the field and delayed the game. I don't know what that's all about.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Today is one of those days. It's raining. A-Rod is still a Yankee. My boyfriend's blog now links to a writer I loathe for her arrogance and success. And now I have to go cover a dinky little press conference so I can come back and write a paltry web article that will be read by no one.

Just another manic Wednesday. Wish it were Friday.

When I get back, though, I want to weigh in on Vancouver and, yes, the A-Rod debacle.

Friday, February 13, 2004
Tonight, Dan and I are off to Vancouver for the long weekend. I have been there once before, for the World's Fair in 1985, but my memories of the trip are hazy. I remember we stayed at a pseudo bed-and-breakfast at this very strange family's home (back then, I didn't understand that Canadians are different from you and I). I remember my father tricking me into eating a buffalo burger. I remember that I went on some sort of upside-down roller coaster ride, and my harness malfunctioned and I was literally hanging on for my life, although no one believes this story when I retell it.

Oh, and I remember being pissy because we were missing the NBA finals, Celts versus the Rockets.

My one loyal reader pointed me to a book that his college advisor had written about Vancouver. It's an analysis of Vancouver as the perfect post-modern metropolis. Just reading the summary of the tome hurt my poor underused brain.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
Today I ran across a jewelry line titled "Subversive Jewelry." Can you do that? Editorialize in your product's name?

Wednesday, February 11, 2004
I have become a meta-consumer of modern culture. I no longer watch TV or see movies or read contemporary fiction; I only read previews and reviews of TV shows and movies and fiction, and then carry on as if I have actual familiarity with the cultural trends of the day.

This occured to me the other day during my fiction writing class. The professor made mention of Zadie Smith's White Teeth, which no one seemed to have heard of except me (ah, West Coast intellectualism). He asked me if I had read it. Nope. Then he talked about Mystic River and the strange liberties that had been taken translating the book to the screen. I nodded because I had read an article on that topic. "Oh, have you read the book?" he asked. Nope. "Seen the movie?" Nope. And so on.
While searching for a cheap flight to Miami today, I decided to check out that new Song airline, whose website is But I typed in by mistake. It was about what you'd expect.

Today I am officially sick. It's a low-grade cold at best, but I'm trying to stir up sympathy by leaving dramatic piles of used tissues all over my desk. So far no one has noticed. I may start rubbing my upper sinus cavities and grimacing whenever someone walks by my office.

Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Self-promotion: something I am horrific at (as evidenced by the fact that I have one loyal reader). It violates the principles of my core being to tout my own abilities. Maybe this is in reaction to the fact that my parents were in public relations, and maybe this is exacerbated by the fact that my boyfriend is an aggressive self-promoter. I'm not sure. But I cannot think of a single instance in which I have directed a mass of people to an accomplishment of mine.

Then again, I haven't achieved much that is tangible. Hmm, in fact, maybe nothing?

Certain people do laud my Chinese stir-fries though.
My one loyal reader was very happy to be designated as such. So, hi again, one loyal reader!

Whew, I just spent the morning and afternoon plowing through a freelance editing assignment: the dissertation of a USC employee who sought me out because, he explained, "Writing isn't my thing." Indeed. Most days I forget that the world is overpopulated by people who truly... cannot....write. I'm happy to take his moolah though.
Monday, February 09, 2004
I had pretty much decided to retire this blog, since its purpose is vague and its value debatable. Plus, I share an apartment with a much more lauded blogger, and really, is there room for two bloggers in a relationship? But my one loyal reader convinced me to carry on (thanks, Justin). So, here I am.

On Friday I called in sick. Everyone else in the office had been sick earlier in the week, and I was wanting a day off anyway, so I figured the timing was perfect. Well, today I am getting genuinely sick. But I won't be able to take another sick day unless I claim relapse. Of course, no one in my office really notices if I'm around or not, so I could probably call in dead and not cause a ripple.