September 3, 2009 My Journey

OK, so this isn’t quite on the expository topics, but this is just where my brain went. Sorry.


The first step is always the hardest. I clamp my palm around the cold brass of the doorknob, its five friends closing in closely behind, offering both physical and moral support. Their grip manages to squeeze tight, if only just for a moment, turning the handle just enough to release the mechanism that holds in place the barrier between my safe, cozy world, and whatever it is that is out there. The slab of wood, shaped and placed by the hands of my grandfather, falls to the side, and I look out into darkness. I step out into the corridor, pressing my prepubescent butt cheeks against the back wall. Cue the hall scene from The Shining. Which one? Who cares, they’re all fucking scary as hell-riding the big wheel, the Alice in Wonderland twins, and of course that elevator full of blood. Cue them all-at once.

The first step is always the hardest. The real first step. The one where your sole notices the subtle, yet distinct difference between the warm carpet that kept you safe in your room and the warm carpet that may ultimately betray you to the hall monsters. Wall to wall Judas. Cue the stereotypical shot where our antagonist perches on the starting line of a lane of hot coals, ready to take a quick, yet transformative journey, if only she can gather enough courage.

If not for the small, beige nightlight sticking out of the wood paneling, beaming eerie orange echoes of light out toward my nemesis, these second, third, fourth steps would not be happening. If not for this 79 cent beacon, I would never have made it from under the covers in the first place. One step follows the other in such a rapid fashion that even the quickest of sneezes would make one miss witnessing the entire, frightening escapade. Cue the scene of our hero, racing across a failing, wooden bridge, over a river of jaw-snapping crocodiles.

I made it to the end of the hall, and with the skill and grace unbeknownst to our viewers thus far, I slide into my final destination. I shut the door behind me, careful to not let any light out. Old people need their sleep. I find relief here, in so many more ways than one. But now it’s time to do it all over again. I step back into the hallway, my eyes completely shocked by the dramatic shift from bright to dark. Cue the narrowing hallway set to the sound of shrill violins- this is very likely a Hitchcock device, so it fits perfectly here.

Cue the end. I’m back in bed, safe from the hall monster, and safe from the shame that would befall me the next day had I not actually made it to the toilet. This journey is not one that I will soon forget.

Lights dim.
Credits roll.

September 2, 2009 My other car is a pair of skinny jeans

I hate hipsters. I won’t tell you why-you know why. Sinclair has a theory that we (our group of friends) are all hipsters to some degree. I have to disagree. I like us too much. But, if we are, to some degree, that most sanctimonious of subcultures, then here are a few reasons why it’s ok:

Hipsters aren’t afraid to stand out against historical persecution: It seems to me that, for hipsters, the reclaiming of ugly clothes, like boat shoes and leotards, as their own, is their way of retaliating against “the man,” much as African-Americans reclaimed the ‘n’ word, and post-feminists reclaimed the ‘c’ word. They really are the pinnacle of modern day social activists.

Hipsters are living up to the saying on those plaques you can get at the mall: (not they would ever shop at the mall, unless it was for the sake of irony)-I’m particularly thinking of the ones that say “Dance as if no one is watching.” Because, yeah, that’s how they dance-unfortunately, we are watching…

Hipsters are helping the environment: Well, most likely inadvertently, but still! That whole not bathing or washing hair frequently has to be saving some serious water. And again, recycled clothing definitely keeps waste out of the landfill, and out of the hands of very low income people who really should not be trying to pay $2 for an old Coca-Cola shirt-they really just can’t pull the look off.

Lonely Island: enough said.

Irony: If it weren’t for hipsters, the general public might still think that irony is defined by that ridiculous list that Alanis Morrisette read off in the late 90’s. If it weren’t for hipsters, comedy just wouldn’t be as funny, Tina Fey might still just be that chick with the scar who shows up in the background on some SNL sketches, and we sure as hell wouldn’t have Stephen Colbert making amazing political satire. I honestly don’t think I could exist without irony. Wait, shit, does that make me a hipster?

i just found out about this website, today-have fun! www.latfh.com

I'm usually full of bad intentions...

I'm totally cheating!

Complete: I plan to complete this month by creating interesting and engaging writing topics, and actually writing about the topics that I post.


Accountability: Since my position in this group is a little different, I am placing accountability at the top of my intention. First, I have to be accountable to all of you, because if I do not do my part, then it is much more difficult for all of you to be successful. I also have to be accountable to myself: if I get all of the topics written and posted ahead of time, then I get to actually participate in the group, too.

Consistency: That goes without saying. I think I made it two weeks last time, and as long as I keep up with the accountability part, this should hopefully fall right into place.

Dialogue: I think I want one of my focuses this go ‘round to be specifically on dialogue. Considering most of my classy insults consist of “your face” and “your mama,” Gossip Girl has inspired me to work on better dialogue.


So, a little about my life as a writer. Well, I started in a Journalism class my Freshman year of high school, then gradually moved up in the ranks on the newspaper from Feature Editor to Editor-in-Chief (well, technically co-Editor-I had all the duties but not full title due to an incident the previous year; apparently shoplifting on a school field trip is not a good idea-funny story, though). I did the UIL business and all that, oddly enough winning First Place for a Sports Feature article, then applied to the UT School of Journalism. I so didn’t get in. Boo. So, I went the Liberal Arts route and kind of gave up on my Journalism dream.

After lots of fun American Studies classes with tremendous writing components (seriously, throw out a topic and there is a 47% chance that I will say “oh, I wrote a paper on that”), I ended up picking up little writing jobs here and there, even writing a bit of porn on the side (even though I wasn’t having sex at the time-my porn totally sucked-if only I had that job, now…) Two years ago I got a job with go2.com, writing text-message alerts about local events, and eventually horoscopes, a fairly lucrative side job that has definitely contributed to my drinking budget. Not long after that was the Club Gossip debacle, wherein I was the Editor of an attempted up-start magazine; it was a lot of fun, and I don’t regret it, but ultimately resulted in a giant mess. Finally, last summer I started writing for Austin.com, doing event previews, SXSW coverage, Weekend Picks, and more. I don’t get paid at Austin.com, but I do get lots of perks that pretty much outweigh a paycheck.

So, after a conversation with my BFF while visiting her in the Bay Area last fall, I came up with the idea for this group. My background, obviously, is mostly journalism, and I had never done much creative writing. I figured I would try my hand at it some, and bring a few friends along. This is our fourth go at our little project, and I am still loving it. Eventually, I hope to pitch this as a book to Chronicle Books, and to have all of you join me.

June 5, 2009 My bad

omg, how did i manage to not write yesterday? i am definitely going to come back to this topic, however, i am still in the game because i wrote a page of horoscopes yesterday-which totally counts as writing, woo hoo!

June 4, 2009 One last mistake

“Do you want to know what it would feel like if my fingertips touched yours?

What it would feel like if my lips, the slightest bit desiccated by the winter wind, explored the depths of your warm neck?

What it would feel like as we fought our way into the most intimate embrace?”

…

“Excuse me, what was that?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, I said ‘you might want to cover your drink before you leave it. A lot of sickos out there, y’know?’”

“Oh yes, thanks.”

That smile. Enchanting.
Yeah, she wants to know…

June 3, 2009 It's just another word

WORK IN PROGRESS-i wrote this part at Ozomatli show to get my one paragraph done :)

Wow.

The foyer is bigger than our old apartment. Gold. It adorns things. Everything is all shiny. It's all I've ever wanted and all I've ever despised in one instance. But shit, it's free.

If free means giving up my freedom. If free means never seeing the rest of my family again. I'm living my own micro-version of The Patriot Act. Trading freedom for safety. Trading privacy for safety. Trading identity. For safety.

Am I really living if it's not my life? Is it worth being alive if I am experiencing a pre-death reincarnation? Where does that leave me on the karmic ladder? Closer to the Brahmans or do I get knocked back down with the Untouchables?

I could lie on my new California King and let my greay matter swim around in an existentialist mind-fuck all day.

June 2-Was Not Was was way ahead of their time

Note: I went to see Land of the Lost tonight. Just in case you were wondering where this was coming from.

Dinosaurs are soooo the new ish.

Ninjas? Fucking stomped. Pirates? Pushed the fuck back out to sea. Zombies? Those brittle teeth inside those mushy gums can’t even think about penetrating that badass prehistoric skin.

Now let’s talk merchandise. I’m thinking jackets with T-Rex teeth for zippers. Gloves with fake raptor claws. I’m seeing Betsey Johnson going totally avant-garde with her fall collection, Pterodactyl wings perched where 80’s power suit shoulder pads once lay.

Basically, you do not want to step to dinosaurs. The only thing they fear is Blair Waldorf. They know not to step foot on the Upper East Side.

June 1-Pieces of What

Topic du jour: Alrighty kids, it's back to Day 1-tabula rasa time. April was our best month so far, and I think June can be even better! So, this time around, day 1 is going to be a tiny bit tougher, so...

Part 1: Set your writing intention for the month. Pick 3-5 words on what you want to get out of this, where you want to go with your writing, etc, and elaborate on them.

Part 2: Since our group is growing and we no longer all know each other, give us a little bio of your life as a writer.



Accountability: Since my position in this group is a little different, I am placing accountability at the top of my intention. First, I have to be accountable to all of you, because if I do not do my part, then it is much more difficult for all of you to be successful. I also have to be accountable to myself: if I get all of the topics written and posted ahead of time, then I get to actually participate in the group, too.

Consistency: That goes without saying. I think I made it two weeks last time, and as long as I keep up with the accountability part, this should hopefully fall right into place.

Dialogue: I think I want one of my focuses this go ‘round to be specifically on dialogue. Considering most of my classy insults consist of “your face” and “your mama,” Gossip Girl has inspired me to work on better dialogue.


So, a little about my life as a writer. Well, I started in a Journalism class my Freshman year of high school, then gradually moved up in the ranks on the newspaper from Feature Editor to Editor-in-Chief (well, technically co-Editor-I had all the duties but not full title due to an incident the previous year; apparently shoplifting on a school field trip is not a good idea-funny story, though). I did the UIL business and all that, oddly enough winning First Place for a Sports Feature article, then applied to the UT School of Journalism. I so didn’t get in. Boo. So, I went the Liberal Arts route and kind of gave up on my Journalism dream.

After lots of fun American Studies classes with tremendous writing components (seriously, throw out a topic and there is a 47% chance that I will say “oh, I wrote a paper on that”), I ended up picking up little writing jobs here and there, even writing a bit of porn on the side (even though I wasn’t having sex at the time-my porn totally sucked-if only I had that job, now…) Two years ago I got a job with go2.com, writing text-message alerts about local events, and eventually horoscopes, a fairly lucrative side job that has definitely contributed to my drinking budget. Not long after that was the Club Gossip debacle, wherein I was the Editor of an attempted up-start magazine; it was a lot of fun, and I don’t regret it, but ultimately resulted in a giant mess. Finally, last summer I started writing for Austin.com, doing event previews, SXSW coverage, Weekend Picks, and more. I don’t get paid at Austin.com, but I do get lots of perks that pretty much outweigh a paycheck.

So, after a conversation with my BFF while visiting her in the Bay Area last fall, I came up with the idea for this group. My background, obviously, is mostly journalism, and I had never done much creative writing. I figured I would try my hand at it some, and bring a few friends along. This is our fourth go at our little project, and I am still loving it. Eventually, I hope to pitch this as a book to Chronicle Books, and to have all of you join me.

p.s. after reading this, if you have not taken my “How well do you know Laurie” Facebook quiz, I just gave you two answers. Go for it.

Dog Bed

Oh my bed. My bed so desperately wants to be my place of solace. Every now and then it manages that distinction, like last Saturday when I spent the day underneath the covers watching movies and playing on the internets. For the most part, however, my bed is a fairly gross place that no one wants to visit.

I originally purchased my bed to be this wonderful haven. I was so super excited to pick out the fancy bed from IKEA, one with a headboard, of course, then head down the hall to test out mattresses. I got the cutest sheet and comforter set, all Moroccan-inspired like the rest of my room décor intended to be. After many laborious attempts to put the damned thing together, and much assistance from Susanna, my cheap version of a craft-o-matic adjustable bed was finally done. And for a while, it was my sanctuary.

Then Ginger came.

I held my ground for a long time on the dog-in-bed situation, until Russell came along and guilted me into letting her sleep with us. It was over after that. Now, my bed is a pit of despair, covered in mud and hair. Gross? Yeah, I totally know. Don’t judge me.

The dogs always come first in my world. Even in my bed. I go to sleep every night, taking up less than 1/3 of my bed, with one dog on top of me, one dog in between my knees, and one dog next to my foot. My appreciation for beds in other establishments has grown exponentially, and nights that I get to stay at the Omni or Intercontinental (best beds in the world) or even when I crash with friends who snore a lot, I relish their comfy, clean, dog-free zones.

Hmm. Reminds me. I need to get the sheets in the wash.

Damnit!

So yesterday was my first day to not write about the 30DOW topic, and I am totally bummed about that. So, rather than throw something down, I am going to get back to it when I have time.

However, I did do some other writing: 12 horoscopes and a David Sedaris write-up, so I still met the writing criteria, so I'm gonna cut myself some slack on this one.