Life & Shelf LIfe: Beating A Dead Horse Then Milking It

Previously when I mentioned walking all about and everywhere being my new leisure, I neglected to mention that my first outing of such a nature was to procure myself a Subway sandwich - this being back when I had no food for myself, and only a vague idea of what was around me. This also happened to fall very close to a certain celebration day. That being, The Rose Parade. So, it made out that the parade-affected streets afterwards looked like they were out of a post-apocalyptic future instead of lovely Pasadena.





You can't even really imagine the extent of the mess by these two pictures, but you can give it a good effort. Whole streets. Covered just like that.

Now, however, the place is looking much more precious. The five or so blocks that I walk to Starbucks to get streaming fast internet include several nicer stores and restaurants as well as a courtyard into an Antiques Mall I think I will be visiting in the near future.

So far my new lifestyle is only taking a toll on me. Loving California as much as I do can only go so far when new sleeping hours, an exercise regime, excessively more walking than I used to do in a day ( everything's excessive compared to 'none' ), and the patience of sitting through hours of traffic both ways to and from office jobs where I am not paid. I'm hoping for that next moment of spirited inspiration but, barring that appearing on my lap, I shall be making it for myself.

Until then, there are just script readings and errands in my future. One of which included buying Christmas cards for the office janitors - a trip that had me discovering the thus far most hit-you-over-the-head What Does This Remind Me Of: Drinks For Everybody!






Since there's very little to relate at the moment except settling into a schedule, I'll be including this remark:



A lot of Television news has been coming up and I'm as excited as I can be for that, but there as one thing that disappointed me in all those ways a show not being canceled shouldn't -- an Ausiello Files article mentioned that there was now a hovering chance that Supernatural creator Eric Kripke would lead the show into another season, its sixth. While I am a fan of Supernatural, and I trust Kripke with his own vision, I am not and will never be a fan of shows that continue on past their welcome or freshness.

Too many TV shows go strong, flare out, and then limp on past the finish line towards a pit of boiling failure with a tenacity that can only be blamed on persistent thoughts of creative suicide. This being, of course, the natural enemy of that thing called milking something for all the money it can produce, even if that something happens to be a dead horse spitting its own fluids back at you.

Pleasant imagery, I know. But this is how I feel about it. Many good shows have dragged on too long and, in doing so, their legacy becomes that sort of sad, wibbling ending instead of their - possibly many - good years. One of my bizarrely happiest moments was when "The 4400", a show I greatly treasured, was canceled. Why? Because its season finale is one of the most emotional, most beautiful, definitely the best finale I've ever experienced. I couldn't imagine it leaving on a better epic and yet still open-ended enough to be interesting note, and wouldn't have wanted to see it try.



So it worries me that Supernatural might leap past its projected date. Especially when it was clever and well-rounded enough to even have a projected date. This seems to suggest to me that the story had a natural end. Doesn't that mean everything after will only feel unnatural? And even Supernatural shouldn't feel that unnatural.

I'll, of course, reserve full judgment until I see what comes of this, but I definitely felt some concern, and a little bit of sadness, when I read this notice.

Life & Writing: Okay, Will You Watch Me?

It doesn't behoove me to go on about the holidays except to say that they were cheerful but cold, with that kind of snow that sticks to the shovel when you try to move it, and now they are over. I was gifted with plenty of shiny new technologies to make my life easier and more dependable on machines so that the day when robots take over the world will be twice as devastating when my belongings revolt against me.

The highlight of this trip, besides that it brought me back to the wintry sunshine of California, was one of those freak chance encounters in the airport. My sister didn't want to see by other people in those crowded gate seats, so we sat a good distance off to the side at a different gate that had more room. Despite being placed that far off, we were joined later by a man at this diagonal from me.

Not an instant later: *ping*. I felt that particular itching feeling that I knew this face. Then, a second after that, I knew. Ballet of the Dolls. Romeo & Juliet. I knew him. Because I couldn't signal to my sister without being suspicious, and because I covet proof in these sorts of instances, I struck up some inane reason to be fiddling with my iPhone right then. Briefly, I was distraught by the fact that I had anally left the plastic covering on which meant my camera was blurred behind recognition. So I also carefully crafted a reason to be fiddling with, but not removing ( still anal ), the plastic enough to take a clear picture. Well, clear-ish.



After he got up - to board our flight - I, of course, shared the news with my companion. We speculated on the reasons, further so after I spotted him in his seat as I passed by to mine - but, as we were unable to catch him leaving the plane there was no further stalking. It shall forever remain an interesting mystery.

My return was, admittedly, at first very stressful. I couldn't remember how it felt to be comfortable at my job, I had to approach my landlord for the first time, and I couldn't legally park on my own street without paying out all of the precious quarters I'd been gifted over Christmas. Getting a permit seemed daunting because it required them caring that I'd sent a request into the DMV to have my car registration address changed, instead of kicking me to the curb until I got confirmation back.

This was all to be handled after my first day back at the office - I day I actually began to anticipate with some glee because, as it turns out, I was internetless the two days before that. The story there is about how I have no internet in my apartment and knew none of the companies that serviced my area. My research had to be conducted either on my phone, which I find inhibits much of my normal typing speed ( but none of my impeccable grammar, thank you very much, Adam ), or at the public library - conveniently located in the immediate vicinity.

In fact, a good deal of things are now in my immediate vicinity. I find it both awesome and doubly awesome because it means I get to walk around in this fine weather and feel good about myself for doing so.

Anyhow, the library has a wireless, but not one that will allow such things as mu*ing nor streaming episodes. So, a replacement had to be made.

A note, though, on the library's behalf. Until I cheat-y parked in its parking lot to avoid paying meters while I trekked to City Hall this afternoon, I hadn't really walked further than the front lobby. I hadn't, then, really quite been able to realize exactly how freakin' neat this establishment really was. I felt compelled to share. Showing here:











I'm going to make this shot of glancing down the corridor What Does This Remind Me Of?: X Marks The Spot. But I'm not really going to hold it against anyone when they don't get it.



Also - awwww. The mystery section is so cute, it knows exactly what I was looking for.



Hint: it's the DOY. As in Doyle. As in Arthur Conan. As in Sher... yeah, you get it.

Lovely though it is, the library has an evening replacement: this replacement is named Starbucks. After relieving me of five of my dollars, they've granted me access to an internet that does both of those things the library doesn't. They are, however, wickedly air-conditioned. I don't know. Fifty degrees? I'm not begging for a fan at that point, so. Not getting it. Also, it's a rather good thing they offer smoothies and, when they are out of bananas like this particular evening, hot chocolate or I might be forced to, I don't know, drink coffee so they wouldn't kick me out for not being a paying customer.

This is from where I will be making my blogposts from now on, most likely, however. Making me this:



In conclusion, this is the beginning of a trial week where I can see if I can survive a week without internet at my apartment with the aid of the public library system, the extensive Starbucks chain, and the iPhone I have henceforth named T-1000. It's gunmetal.


Peace out.



P.S. This is City Hall.



I'm pretty sure I've climbed it in Assassin's Creed.

Life: Estimated Time Till Destination

I didn't take this picture. I did, however, drive into ( and past ) LA to talk with the fine people at a production office today. Having been liberally warned about the state of California driving, I allowed myself an hour and a half to get to my destination which was clocked at being "29 minutes" away, without traffic. I looked up the directions beforehand so I'd generally know the freeways it would suggest without solely relying on my GPS, which I wouldn't be able to see at all times without staring obsessively at my lap and, well, common sense informs me that might not be the best technique on the road.

As it turned out, I still made several wrong decisions but, since the GPS had been telling me to head towards a street labeled "Buses Only" while a cop car drove steadily behind me, I'm okay with that. I also ended up making the route easier for myself, so, more power to wrongness. Making the various twists and turns and more turns and sharp turns and mergings that were required of me, I began to get the odd sensation like John Cleese ( my GPS voice of choice ) was attempting to teach me how to lose a tail instead of arrive at a destination.

At one point, I cheered up as I neared a street with several impressively sized studios with their featured movie posters displayed all along the side in larger-than-life form... but was led right past them. I was going to take a picture of these, but even as I began to pull out my cell-phone I remembered that using it in my car in California was one of those newly prohibited things, so I tossed it away. No studio photos for you. Sorry.

Once at the building, I did the vulture-circle dance around the block to find parking - most of it was residential and therefore off-limits without a permit - and eventually realized I was going past three craftily placed meters. Two of them appeared out of order, so I took the one in the middle that was not. Go me.

After nearly getting off the elevator on the wrong floor because it didn't display any numbers that told you what floor it was on, I arrived at Suite 306. I wandered inside and was asked by a man if I was there to meet 'Mike'. Oh, yes, I was. Oh, well, what do you know, he was Mike. Okay, great. Sit here on the couch? Sure, I'll do that.

THREE HOURS LATER -- no, just kidding. But, it was, like, thirty phone calls. Following the first handful of check-ins and reroutes, I started to wonder if this was some kind of test, was I expected to behave a certain way when left alone to wait. Should I look patient? Should I be... doing something to show I'm productive? Should I-- blarrrgh! What should I do?! ... So I was very importantly jotting down a map for myself about where I'd found the available parking when one of the men from the front office went in to help a woman claiming to be doing something involving the "three-act structure". Oh ho ho. But now my writer senses are tingling!

I shamelessly eaves-dropped on their conversation - come on, the door was still open and everything - when I heard the "f" word dropped. Several times.

... A sense of comfort and belonging fell over me in that moment.

No, but, really - casual swearing makes me feel better inside. 1) You can talk like yourself there, 2) They are normal people who talk like normal people. Pleasant conversation has its place, I'm not saying that, it's just nice to be able to relax in a work environment.

Anyway, I got in to have a chat with Mike and he laid out the basics of what interning would be like, where I could find free parking, etc, etc. Those important details. I drove home after that in the lovely backed up but not unmoving LA evening traffic, where I was glad for the slow pace because it allows me to get my bearings without people honking, and turn up my music because I don't need to hear the GPS as often. And maybe it's the slowness of the traffic already, but I found people to be fairly considerate so far when it comes to merging. They are, however, less considerate when they think you had time to make your right turn and you didn't.


In celebration of driving, I present the first installment of What Does This Remind Me Of: California Rivers



I spotted these particular structures the first time my parents and I were driving to our hotel. This view isn't very beneficial to the game, but what these are is cement "rivers" moving alongside the street that collect water when it rains. However, when they are dry, they are just "V"-shaped pathways conveniently out of traffic, sometimes when provided bike paths that perhaps... a bike, or a motorcycle... or a hijacked semi might travel.

Guess away, all 4 faithful blog-followers. What do these remind me of?