(West) Indian Girl -What Are You Afraid Of?

"To jump on a plane and land a
Thousand miles away
Just to see what we came to be"

The wanderlust hit me last night while I was shopping at the Bollywood Market for saffron. I had been in this store before but it was nostalgia, not a pull to return, that made it delightful. It was a place in my life when I had more reason to stay than go. Less distracted by normalcy this time, I wandered the aisles looking at their yogurt, okra, and dhal, read packages and bought way more than I should have. India, I miss you.

This morning I made upma (Cream of Wheat/farina is the closest equivalent) with coconut, raisins and honey. As I stood over my cook top was reminded of squatting outside on Matthew and Jeeva’s porch trying to ignite that finicky gas camping stove and the thrill of excitement when it finally lit. We would toss in whatever we had- sultanas, coconut flakes, bananas and ate it as a sweet breakfast cereal. Indians don’t eat it that way; they usually put things like peas, tomatoes and curry leaves in to make breakfast. There must have been a plethora of oddities that our hosts tolerated and never commented on.

So in light of the current pull Eastward, the internal debate rages on, what do I do with the next chunk of my life? Yoga instruction? Travel to a foreign land? Is it reasonable to do this before film school? I have this escapist impulse when things are just… normal. Most people appreciate predictability, but for me it represents stagnancy. Maybe I need to grow up.

Maybe go to India?

Living Just to Keep Going. Going Just to Stay Sane.

There are a lot of changes happening: some that gently tugged on my sleeve, some that popped up and surprised me like a room full of friends and some that spanked me on my blind-side.

When I was in Seattle, a couple of friends took me to a butterfly house. Inside we were exposed to their life cycle and habits. Three times I watched a creature break out of its tight chrysalis and open its iridescent wings. It was surprising to see butterflies eating bananas, oranges and drinking straight from flowers. Perhaps the most curious habit I observed was the insects lying very still on the ground with their wings spread open. Parents, children and other adults were asked to watch their step to keep the animals from harm. While I was there, someone had made a misstep and crushed the delicate body and wings of a Cethosia biblis, commonly known as a Lacewing. Orange and black wings were askew and its body mangled.

There was a Morpho peleides, a Mexican butterfly with ragged wings that landed on my friend. As she walked around, the butterfly stayed with her despite the evidence that it had been battered, likely by human contact. As I considered the appearance of the Common Blue Morpho, I couldn’t tell if I thought it was brave and hardy or stupid and stubborn.

What was it thinking? Why was it so careless to not protect itself from harm? When things started going badly, why did it not leave? What could have been its motivation? Is this adaptation in the works? All I could decide was perhaps there wasn’t much judgment involved and that instinct was its guide. Maybe it just did what most animals have to do: survive and not hold out for something more.

New Building

The official tour of the new building was today- well, the one that I got invited to anyway. We wandered around the facilities and onto the roof. The contrast between the old building and this new one is like a gas-station bathroom to Versailles. That may be a bit dramatic, but in the new building I won’t have to worry about the possessed plumbing (the toilet that won’t stop flushing or the water fountain that sprays the wall and any person who dares depress the button), or that my co-workers are vampires (there are a few people I have never seen in daylight… the windowless, concrete cave has proved an excellent lair for the possibly undead.) Holy run-on sentence, Batman!

The lobby/entrance is design genius: beautiful, practical and impressive with a full view of master control behind bulletproof glass. I do not, however, envy those who work in that fishbowl; I would feel paranoid with my back to a huge hallway where people can see what you are doing at all times. The producers area (where I will likely sit) has huge vistas of the mountains and the temple. I may actually need sunglasses as I got a headache from the light (and maybe the smell of paint/glue/new carpet etc.) And since our cubicles don’t appear to have very high walls, so as not to obscure the view, I may be forced to bring in a jungle so I can get some freaking work done and not get distracted by other people.

For now, I am excited to have a cool building with lots of great technology and toys. Wahoo!

Weekend

Another weekend has passed and I have nothing application related to show for myself. Crap. There were a few highlights, though.

1. Downstairs bathroom= finally painted respectably and has proper hardware/fixtures (There are a few little things to touch up but you don't see purple around the fixtures and through the first layer of paint. My mother is not a painter and it has been obvious to everyone who has used that bathroom since July. Whoops.)

2. The idea of doing yoga teacher training has become very appealing and now I am seriously considering that addition to my list of random-sauce skills.

3. Waffles tonight at the Hugheszabawas with the Hathawastills. We always laugh so hard I think I might cry- sometimes I do. Thank goodness I burned off some of those calories, I had a very bad eating day today- waffles, cookies, cheese, pasta, chocolate chips, and whipped cream. Roll me over.

4. I played with my amazing nieces. They have recently acquired a hamster which they call Tito Horatio Bandaras- that's right, he is Latin. (Insert Salsa Music) When Scott brought him out from the cage while Emily (the 3 year old) was eating pineapple sherbet, I requested that she wash her hands before she touched the rodent(in order to keep the stickiness and the fur from mixing.) She stood in front of me with her palms up, flipped them upside down, and proceeded to wipe her dirty hands on my skirt. Then she stuck her face into the bowl with her hands behind her back and started lapping up the cold dessert like a dog. I guess that is what I get for being an OCD clean freak. Heaven help me if I have my own children, I can't handle pets, the food getting everywhere and the sticky hands. Yet I feel the same way about kids that I do about domestic animals: drawn uncontrollably to them, but my body has an adverse reaction when I hang around them for too long. Maybe it is best this way.

5. Primary Presentation Sunday!- That is right, small children, so dang cute you can hardly stand it, saying hilarious things over the microphone. Some of the highlights are as follows: one kid shouting into the mic about the importance of reverent voices, a girl who was getting prompted by the teacher quoting what was fed into her ear saying, "Repeat after me," and another kid announcing, "We are grateful for the revolutions of the prophet Joseph Smith." AMEN.

Mixed News

This last week has been full of news, some good, but mostly bad.

My project has been "put on hold indefinitely." Which is television speak for canceled. My job is not in danger, but some others on my team will be leaving, which makes has been a struggle for me. I see really talented people being let go because decisions are not being made quickly enough or there are personality conflicts with upper management. Bureaucracy is incredibly difficult for me to manage emotionally. Seeing this organization limp around like a three-legged dog has garnered my sympathy but also caused me lots of frustration. On the up-side, I got to direct a piece the day before yesterday that has beautiful footage and an interesting story. I am thrilled to see the final product come together. We also got a new creative content director whose work I really respect, so I have hope.

In more news, yesterday evening, I got a diagnosis that I have suspected, but feared for some time. As my doctor described my symptoms, things that he could have hardly known about, I began to cry and laugh simultaneously. A strange sensation passed over me: relief and fear. To know what is happening is comforting but now I have some difficult decisions to make about my health (things that will effect my future spouse and children if I should have them) and that is a large burden to carry considering I can hardly make decisions for myself and my life. So I followed an unhelpful coping strategy and went to sleep for hours and I am now am wide awake. Thanks, Brain.

So, despite the fact that I have been bombarded with the kind of news I would like to avoid, there are at least a few shreds of good news, which is something of a consolation.

Sick

So I have been sick for... maybe a week and a half. The kind of sick where you just stare into space and try not to move for fear your stomach will turn itself inside out. This is the kind of sick where you get so tired of feeling sick you start to punish your body for treating you this way.

The first stage is in denial, in which you get ready for the day, put on makeup, dress in cute clothes, go to a store and immediately want to vomit because you are surrounded by people and smells.

The second stage is acceptance, but with anger. I walked around in the sunlight and listened to The Black Keys really loud because I had a headache and ate solid food despite the protests of my stomach. Take that, body! For some reason I always lose these battles.

The third stage is apathy. You go and lie completely still in a dark room feeling like it would be a blessing to be hit by a train or hoping that cell phones really do cause brain tumors and yours has finally ripened to a good, grapefruit sized malignant tumor of death.

That is where I am right now, feeling horrible and a bit loopy. I have to go to work tomorrow, I have missed too many days without an identifiable illness to call in sick again. Damnation.

The one thing that has made me laugh are these blogs about sickness; they have made me feel a tiny bit better, although the stomach jostling laughter is uncomfortable, to say the least. Warning, there is some language for comedic effect. Please enjoy:

I'm Definitely Not Dead

The Party

Texas

From the Ashes, the Death of a Dream

I found this among some of my old writing and it felt appropriate.


The words seem harmless enough: "the death of a dream." A friend of mine tosses them out with regularity to describe painful situations, usually when something longed for is lost or never realized. It seems to fit, but I hate that phrase.

What are dreams, anyway? Gentle curls of smoke that dissipate when touched? So clear, so thin, that their very existence is a matter of serious debate among bearded scholars in smoking jackets? Are they given life when expelled from the mouth into some willing ear? Is the inkling of a connection, the whisper of a form, a glimmer of a plan enough to will them in to existence? If they are just that, fine beyond palpability, are they born to die unfulfilled? Unrequited? Or in their very fulfillment, shatter into innumerable pieces?

There is one dream that I keep repeating, one that haunts my head during waking hours and those spent in restless sleep. Sunday I watched it gather cinnamon twigs and myrrh then meticulously arrange them into a nest. Before I could stop it, the slender twist of gray blossomed into flaming death. The smell was fragrant. The golden plumage was arresting as it combined with the blazing petals. My eyes watered from the smoke.

I pronounced it dead and pressed my fingers to my forehead. A noise. A stirring came from the ashes. I was left with that emotion, coveted when life is most dim, hope.

Tonight, I am a Film Director

It is official, I am legit. Tonight was the first shoot of the piece I am directing for the "Be the Good" series. I am simultaneously terrified and thrilled. Say a little prayer that my footage looks good!