May 4, 2008
Charlsie
Usually, I'll wait 'til Mothers' Day weekend (which always hits right around my mom's birthday) to post about how awesome my mom was. But next weekend, I'm going to be pretty dang busy and, assuming I'm going to be both busy *and* emotional, I'd rather just go ahead and get this post made. Plus, it's on my mind. So, here it is.
My mom fucking rocked. And not just slightly. A whole hell of a lot.
Mom was a depression-era kid whose dad helped bring unionization to the steel mills and whose mom filled WWII shells with Tetryl powder.
Charlsie was most often described as WISE. Even though she didn't have "book smarts" beyond two years of community college (which was a source of great stress for her, and the reason my advanced degrees were a source of great pride for her), she read everything she could get her hands on and was a brilliant, gifted, yet sometimes "hillbilly" philosopher who spent the majority of her adult life as a world-renowned astrologer with thousands of clients.
Yep. It's true. I grew up a Montessori kid in a single-parent New Age household in the '70s. I was there while my mom studied A Course in Miracles, I was trained in the practice of Reiki before I was 13, and I knew that my Venus was afflicted in Leo before I was sure whether or not Santa existed. My mom was invited to be a part of Oprah Winfrey's big "remembering your spirit" initiative in the late '90s. You remember--when she had John Gray and Iyanla Vanzant and Les Brown and Deepak Chopra on all the time? Yeah. Mom was their peer. And her ego--her lack of formal education and the shame that comes with having a gift you can't back up with a degree--kept her from saying yes. Well... that, plus the fact that she was never a very public person. That was my job.
Anyway. I'm writing all of this now because the lovely Annie Wood posted a comment at the MySpace version of my blog not too long ago, mentioning that she would've loved to have met my mom. And, well, truth be told, Keith mentions about once every few weeks how much he wishes he could've met my mom. Frankly, she was one fascinating, beautiful, wise, wonderful, soul-filled, hungry-for-knowledge, optimistic, giving, stubborn woman. And I wish that all y'all could've met her.
And not just because that would mean that she would still be around for the meeting. ;) Moreover because I think that a huge part of who I am--duh, this probably goes without saying and is true for all creatures--is so completely tied up in who she was. I mean, I have this very simple, artistically-gifted, handsome dad (and I'm grateful for having his eyes, his bone structure, his cool-as-ice-logic, his talent for all things performance-related--if not as grateful for having his side of the family's enormous ass-and-thigh spread) with whom I spent very little time... and then I have this incredibly complex "country" mom who became more worldly than I might ever be--and I mean that in the sense of *understanding* the world, not experiencing it.
I remember being in my late teens and having friends who appreciated Mom's gifts far more than I had ever appreciated them (at that point--which was mainly due to having tried to fit in in a school where I was the Andie to the Pretty in Pink world of richies who were nice enough to let me attend their excellent school even though I lived a hair over the tracks from jurisdiction and was one of the only kids there with only one parent and zero trust fund) and saying, "Well, I guess I never realized that--when I got parental advice from Mom--I wasn't just getting 'there, there' type advice, but instead was getting an understanding of the 'Fairy Godmother Complex' in my chart or the 'Fairness Voice' caused by having both rising and moon in Libra."
And every year, when I would come home on a break from school or "life in LA" and sit across from Mom in the bear-chairs I would eventually give to my favorite ex-boyfriend Chip and roll tape to get a reading, I would value it less for what she was telling me as an astrologer and more for just getting to sit with my mom for hours on end, talking about EVERYTHING and why it felt the way it felt (at some deeper level than just because "that's how it feels").
When I feel how very hard it is sometimes (not often--I'm actually pretty dang balanced, as humans go) to just live this creative life, I wish so hard that I had another hour with my mom. Not just because she would pet my head or baby talk me or tell me I was perfect or any of those things that moms do for their baby girls, but because she would tell me to watch out for Mercury Retrograde coming up or look at the chart of a colleague and say, "Girl! Watch out! This guy is a wannabe player-slash-liar who will end up promising you the spoils of worlds he'll only ever get access to because of his affiliation with you."
Most importantly, I never worried that my mom wondered how much she was loved. I grew up in a home where "I love you" was uttered more frequently than any other phrase. And meant... every single time. We simply didn't part ways with anyone wondering whether she was loved. What a gift! And as much as I would cherish another hour with my momma, I have to say I wouldn't trade anything that we already had together--or that we still have together cosmically--for anything.
It's all been that damn good. And that's what's important.
Related posts: here, here, here, here, here, here, and here (among others, but that'll get you started). ;) Thank you--in advance--everyone who always gives me such amazing support with this type of post. It's just my way of getting a little therapy via 1's and 0's. So, thank you. Again.
Posted by bonnie at 1:21 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
April 4, 2008
Eff the Net!
Oh, okay. NOW I get it.
So, I had been asking dearest besties why it is I'm so angry lately.
(It's really flippin' annoying. I've been a big-ass ball of rage for about two months and while I want to blame it on dieting--since I can't blame it on Keith anymore (he's been almost perfect, lately)--I can't really figure out what the eff has made me so "default mode: bitchcakes" lately. REALLY not fun.)
Well, y'know, I've been off message boards for like three months now.
I guess I never realized how much of my angries need to get out via Internet rage! I NEED to be angry at a troll or a spammer or a scammer! I NEED to be pissed at a poseur! A-ha!!
Without this outlet, there is nothing but the REAL people in my REAL life and suddenly I'm skating on the edge and being MAD like all the flippin' time!!! (Okay, that's an exaggeration. It's more like a tenth of my days, but that's enough to be really annoying and confounding. I like to be the happy. I idle at feeling really damn good.)
So, apparently, some part of me knew that's what I needed and I signed on to Yahoo! Answers (after a Google Alert sent me to a question about Showfax membership). I answered that question and then realized I could earn points by answering more. Hello, addiction? Here's a fix! I'm sooooooooooo there, OCD. Thankee.
(Not like I have other shit to do, right? Um, hi. Casting four films, producing a showcase, updating the top-selling book, writing the weekly column, exec-producing a film and a web-series. Okay. Hi. Life?)
And then today I had the audacity to answer a question about a blog where a guy posts copyrighted information about auditions (and all I did was say that this type of thing--even if it doesn't ask for money from actors--can qualify as a "scam" because it's reproducing copyrighted information, distributing it worldwide, and giving wannabe actors the impression that they've got a shot at roles that are being cast exclusively via agent-casting director relationships and such, not even going out on public breakdowns *within* the industry, much less on a BLOGSPOT blog).
Oops.
Now I'm being hit with:
If you see castingq's other answers, she says "I write a weekly column for actors and have also written several acting books." That sounds like the scam to me. Casting Directors selling books, and taking big money to do those "cold reading workshops". Cause casting directors like to take money from actors too.
GAWD casting directors can be SO ANAL!
and:
castinq's is Bonnie Gillespie. And yeah all she is about is selling books.
and:
It's pretty pathetic that Bonnie Gillespe comes in here and bashes Alan. He has been in here for ages helping us with all kinds of answers, then she comes in here and acts ike a know it all. Check out her page at IMDb......
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1024379/
She has hardly cast anything and she writes all these books and does seminars. Look like shes ony into making money. What a joke.
(Hey, buddy, thanks for driving up my StarMeter! Woo! Yay!)
Wow.
Suddenly, I'm reminded why I dialed back my interaction with web-boards earlier this year... but now it's making TONS of sense why I'm feeling so much RAGE about nothing to rage about, because obviously I used to have an outlet (haters, poseurs, wannabes, shills on any number of web-boards) and now I just have my REAL life, which has no space for anger.
But the emotion has to go somewhere, right?
Ah, I get it! I get it!
Thank you, silly question about whether someone's copyright-infringement-filled blog is a scam and my knee-jerk reaction to answer that it might be, if it's ripping anyone else off or providing false hope. Thank you for subjecting me to the hate that's out there--a delicious reminder about why I like the REAL LIFE so, so, so much better.
And now, finally, an understanding of WHY this built-up energy hasn't had a good place to go in too many months.
Maybe I'll take up masturbating.
I mean, really!
Posted by bonnie at 6:18 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
February 18, 2008
I don't like it.
There is one thing in this world my husband loves more than me. That's his son, Quinn.
So, when Quinn's mom and Keith divorced seven years ago, they worked out all sorts of neat things like "reasonable visitation" (which will, within the next couple of years--thankfully--mean Quinn comes to live with us and then goes to see his mom every summer for a few weeks) and weekly phone calls.
Weekly. Phone. Calls.
And one of the things Keith looks forward to more than anything in the world is his every-Sunday chat with his growing son. They talk about everything from what Quinn is doing in school to what's on TV, from the weather to pets, from responsibility to tough choices.
And Keith hasn't had a conversation with his son in a month now.
Yup. A dozen unreturned phone calls.
Messages left, week after week, "Hi, this is Keith. Just calling to talk to Quinn. Have him call me when he gets in. Thanks."
And nothing.
NOTHING.
I get it. I know it's gotta be tough to manage a family and work and life. And Quinn's getting old enough that he may not even want to talk to his dad anymore. Fine. Let him tell his dad that. When Quinn is here and doesn't want to call his mom, we tell him it's the right thing to do... that she misses him and he needs to call her even just to say hello. That's good parenting. A nine-year-old is not in charge of things.
So, today, when Keith called and was told by--not sure--either a babysitter or Quinn's teenage step-sister that Quinn was in the shower and that he should call him back in 15 minutes, Keith did as instructed.
And when the next call went unanswered... repeatedly... Keith became sad. Not mad. Sad. Depressed. I encouraged him to call again. He did... repeatedly... and finally the teenager on the phone clicked over and said, "I am ON THE PHONE with my driving instructor! He will CALL YOU BACK!"
Guess what?
Tick-tock, tick-tock, it's getting more and more past Quinn's bedtime and no one is calling back.
So Keith calls again... repeatedly... and no one answers. No one clicks over. No one but me gets to witness the emotional torture Quinn's father is enduring.
Sadder still, I don't think anyone else fucking cares.
Sorry, Quinn's mom. I know you hate it when I blog about you or your family or your choices, but this is getting ridiculous. And it HURTS ME, as an adult child of divorce who CRAVED to know that her non-local parent even thought about her, ever.
So, I am blogging to make sure that when Quinn is ready to read about it, he can be sure--100% sure--that his father thinks about him every day, talks about him every day, fights to spend MORE time with him, is desperately sad that no one bothered to send us school photos this year, and CALLS HIM EVERY GOD DAMNED WEEK, whether he ever gets the message or not. Whether he is ever *parented* in such a way that calls are returned because THAT IS THE DEAL or not.
I remember being nine. I remember not wanting anything to do with my dad. And I remember how much it fed my soul to get to know that he loved me so much it made him ache to be away from me.
I don't want to think about Quinn, 30 years from now--crying like I am right now as I write this--because he was robbed of knowing how much his father missed him.
Posted by bonnie at 11:11 PM | TrackBack
January 21, 2008
I so love my life.
That is all.
Posted by bonnie at 5:03 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
December 28, 2007
Dear Mom,
When we last held each other and spoke, I was an actress with a cool little survival job, interviewing casting directors for Back Stage West.
I am now an author, a columnist, a casting director, a public speaker, a *gulp* producer.
When we last held each other and spoke, I was a single gal, living in a studio apartment in Miracle Mile, pet-sitting as often as possible to get time with animals and in residences larger than one room.
I am now a married step-mother with custody of your cats (plus one of my own), living in a gorgeous two-bedroom ocean-view home just seven blocks from that very same ocean, happy to work from here, because "here" is so lovely.
When we last held each other and spoke, I was driving a super-cute 1990 Mazda Miata that I bought all by myself on my 19th birthday.
Some things never change. Hee! I do love that cute TicTac car (leaks and all)!
When we last held each other and spoke, I had come to the North Georgia Mountains to take care of you in your last days before pancreatic cancer would end you.
THEN
Art Weaver, Charlsie Simonds-Weaver, 1997
My last trip to Georgia was over three years ago, when I cast a TV show for E! and I have no plans to go back.
When we last held each other and spoke, I had been living in LA just under two years (after having done a 13-month stint in LA between undergrad and grad school).
Tomorrow will mark my ninth anniversary (this time) in LA. I'm a local. I can't imagine living anywhere else. I love this place and it loves me.
When we last held each other and spoke, there was so much uncertainty in my life.
I guess there still is.
But I'm better-equipped to handle it, it seems.
It's like--when you died seven years ago this morning--you were put in a much better position to direct traffic into and out of my life. And I always, always feel as though we are holding each other and speaking.
I just have to get quiet enough to recognize that truth sometimes.
I was happy then. I am happy now. You raised a happy child, Mom. What more could a mother want?
Posted by bonnie at 8:01 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
October 18, 2007
Y'know what?
Screw it.
I'm so over trying that I'm just ready to declare, "I give the fuck up!"
Seriously.
This fixing a hole business is hard. It's hard. It's hard.
And the fact that the world doesn't back the fuck off while I'm doing some really important healing stuff just makes me mad.
And that's a part of the "hole" problem in the first place.
God, I love irony!
Posted by bonnie at 8:19 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
May 11, 2007
Dear Momma,
I miss you. I know you know that, but I have to say it. I miss you every moment of every day and, while there's this part of me that knows you are totally in on all the jokes now and you see everything that I'm doing in life and you support and encourage me now as ever, there's this other part of me that's totally selfish.
Yes. Missing you like this is selfish.
Because it's not that I need to know you love me and are with me (because I do know that. I know it at my very core), it's that I need to ask you questions. I want your advice. I want to hear your voice, feel comforted, and sometimes roll my eyes when you advise me in ways I'm SURE I know better (and all those other things that defiant daughters do).
*sigh*
I'll be fine. I'm just feeling this more than I seem to have felt it before. And you'd think it'd get easier each year, right? Ugh. Guess not.
I just miss you, Momma. Just a bunch.
Glad I don't mind crying. I'm doing that a lot.
Posted by bonnie at 11:52 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
May 10, 2007
We'll miss you, Aunt Bonnie.
For most members of my family, my arrival created the need for distinguishing between "Big Bonnie" and "Little Bonnie."
And today, "Big Bonnie" passed away... at the age of 98.
That tiny pic (Sheesh, we scanned 'em itty-bitty a zillion years ago, didn't we?) is from a visit in 1990. Man, I love my Aunt Bonnie! She was just always so funny and irreverent (hell, like most of us in this family) and SUCH a survivor (polio, anyone?) that I've always admired her. Still do.
And now she's gone to visit my mom on the day before what would've been Momma's birthday.
I'm sad. But in that good way that includes being so very aware that I'm immensely lucky to have had such wonderful women in my life, in my family, in my heart for so much of MY time here.
Goodbye, Aunt Bonnie. I never got tired of hearing you tell the story of how I'm named after you. It has been (and will continue to be) an honor.
Posted by bonnie at 11:49 AM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
April 23, 2007
Ooh, hello ego. How ya feelin'? Ouch!
Okay, so I'm trying to format today's column and get it all linked up to stuff I reference and I head over to my recommended reading list for working actors at Amazon.com. Yes, I make no bones about the fact that each of my recommended reading lists exists to help promote my books. BFD.
So, while I'm grabbing the link that I need, I see this COMMENT on one of the stellar reviews received by Self-Management for Actors, wherein the commenter slams my reviewers (Eh?) for not sharing how they've specifically used anything from my book in their careers and then slams "the author/publisher" because we've "not seen fit to share any of the contents here on Amazon."
Oooooooookay.
I guess I figure giving away as many copies of the book as we sell, plus writing a free weekly column for actors should be more than enough to get content-awareness up. And, beyond that, there's all of the free speaking engagements* in which I, well, engage.
Besides, have you READ the Conditions and Terms of Service Agreement for allowing the Amazon.com "Search Inside the Book" program to feature your work? YOU LOSE RIGHTS TO IT.
Believe me, I am not a stickler for clutching my copyright as if my life depended on it. (Some say I am far too loose with my personal stance on publication freedom, in fact.) So if *I* find the terms objectionable, you have to KNOW they're pretty freakin' invasive.
But whatever, that's not what got my hackles raised. I just saw this post and then noticed that there were more votes for "NO" on "This review was helpful" throughout the pages of reviews for Self-Management for Actors than had been there before.
WTF?
You don't like that I'm not sharing content on Amazon.com so you go click NO on all of the review ratings buttons?
Wow. Okay.
So, that was interesting. I finished tagging my column and turned it in (late--I'm so freakin' exhausted with all of the last-minute showcase-related stuff going on**) and then realized that, as I well know, getting "bad press" (which this SO isn't, in the grand scheme of things) comes with getting "good press" (which I get so so SO much more of--and from much bigger "sources" than anonymous comments on Internet book reviews). *snark*
And if I love the love I get, I have to love the hate I get... because it's all a part of the same machine. And I'm building an empire here. I gots more important stuff to do than waste energy on the stupid stuff.
* Spoke at a way cool bicoastal monologue/scene festival thingy yesterday with some major high-profile agents, managers, and CDs who laughed at me when I gave away books to all of the actors in the festival. The fellow CD said, "Honey, you're new so you don't know this. You're not supposed to give things to ACTORS. They're supposed to give YOU things." It was a hoot and a blast and I never knew I had a fan at BenderSpink. That's fucking rockstar cool.
** Had our preview performance yesterday morning before I went to the festival thingy and HOLY CRAP does this showcase ROCK! OMG! I am NOT kidding you! This thing is FUNNY and FAST and BRILLIANT. I love this cast SO MUCH!!!!!!! Oh, what a great week this is gonna be!
Now when do we get to have celebratory playtime? Huh? Cast party? Anyone? Oh wait... nap first. Zzzzzz.
Posted by bonnie at 8:35 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
February 28, 2007
Touched. Inspired. Moved. THANK YOU.
Where do I begin?
I have so much emotion about the outpouring of love, vibes, well-wishing, prayers, and donations that have come in for our lovely Uma in such a short period of time.
And in a dozen hours or so, I'll be rolling out a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT about a major fundraising event that is a mitzvah on the part of an amazingly talented actor friend. OH, HOW I LOVE THE INTERNET!!
As I keep an eye on the Uma-Meter over at TheUmaFund.blogspot.com, I am in awe. I see the names of friends and loved ones who I know would reach out to take care of me if ever I were in need... and they're all reaching out and taking care of Uma... because her story is so touching and they all want to see OUR friend come home.
It's like we've all adopted Uma (and she is sooooooo going to kick our asses over all of this fuss). I sincerely cannot wait for her to bust our chops about it all. Bring it, Urp. Bring it!
Posted by bonnie at 12:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 18, 2007
Being in love...
Being in love is a beautiful, wonderful, blissful thing.
And whenever I answer a meme about my love life, the answer to: "ever been in love?" is always: "constantly." Because I don't know how to NOT be in love.
I love my friends. I love boys... lots of 'em. I especially love my hubby and his brilliant son. I also love all of my best-best friends... and those folks may or may not understand how important they are to me on a daily basis.
Point is, I'm constantly in love. And what the hell can be wrong with that?
Posted by bonnie at 11:52 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
February 3, 2007
The End of an Era
Fun fact that most folks don't know about me. Until yesterday, I still had an "actor survival job." Yup. In 1999, one of MANY gigs I got through the Job Factory was a very long-term freelance web design assignment for a small college textbook publishing company in West LA.
And while I put in fewer and fewer hours per week over the past seven and a half years, it was very comforting to know that if "this showbiz thing" didn't work out, I could always step up my work there and make rent. Or whatever.
So, yesterday morning, we were all summoned to the office for a meeting. We all had the feeling this wouldn't be a good thing, as we had been asked to do a LOT of work in the past six weeks to provide information to "investors" who were looking to buy a minority share in the company.
Yeah. That didn't work out the way we'd hoped it would. And the company has now been sold to a major international corporation. And we are all out of a job.
Now, of course I'm bummed to not have that safety net, but I'm far more sad for those employees for whom this was their JOB-JOB for as many as 21 years! Suddenly there's no more job. No more health insurance. No more nothin'. And no notice. Really shitty way to go out, y'know? And even if you know it's likely to happen, that's not cool to experience. Of course, so many people have been downsized. They've gone through this. Well, this was my first time ever in life "getting fired" or "being let go" or whatever. And the vibe in the room was one of shock, grief, and flat-out pissed-offness.
But as if the universe knew that I would like a little reassurance that "I'll be okay," on Wednesday night (about 14 hours before "the big meeting"), I got a call about a casting-and-writing-related opportunity that is pretty global in scope, way high-profile, and (presumably, potentially) very high-paying. So, thank you, dear universe, for making sure I would feel "more okay" than if I hadn't received that call at that time.
So, universe... for those who didn't get that kind of reassurance yet, could you show 'em a little love? Show them that an unexpected major life change can often be an opportunity to finally live your dreams!
And while I'm asking for stuff, please take care of the lovely Uma, whose ruptured brain aneurysm has her in a medically-induced coma in the neurological ICU. As the blood drains from around her brain, she can be brought out of the coma and head into rehab and recovery. As KiKi said, "Uma is a fuckin' fighter." Man, that's the truth. I am keeping her in my prayers and hope BonBlogs readers will all do the same.
Posted by bonnie at 12:06 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
December 13, 2006
I'm just gonna choose to see the positive.
It's been a rough 12 hours. News of stolen cars, stolen purses, stolen cell phones, and the burning down of my stepfather's house (yes, the house he and my mother shared until her death six years ago).
Part of me wants to just cry. Use this ball of emotions as an excuse to launch into my annual "I miss my mom" funk. And another part of me wants to remind that part of me that in all of this "bad" news I've gotten in the past half-day, not one person has been hurt. Only inconvenienced.
And that's what I'm going to focus on. Everyone is okay. Lost stuff is just "stuff." Sure, there's supposedly "irreplaceable" stuff in some cases, but all that is truly irreplaceable is our very spirit... and I choose to raise mine up find peace in all of this.
And continue my work. Embracing the fact that I am very lucky to have good work to do. It's a blessing. And that everyone is okay is what matters.
Posted by bonnie at 12:58 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
September 3, 2006
Taking a Break
I've been bitching too much lately. I've been complaining. A lot. I've been seeing the negative in the world and that's seriously not like me 90% of the time. So, it's getting annoying (and I'm sure not just to me).
I've also been craving drinks. Not just drinking socially. Not just overindulging. Craving. And I can't tell if it's a temporary physical need that comes from an emotional desire to escape or if it's the beginning of a problem.
But let me state for the record: I love drinking. Love it. I think it's fun and social and cool and one of the best parts of being a responsible adult who works freelance. I'm not like a college kid who can't wait for the weekend to go out and par-tay. I like the celebration of the every day. And I like being able to shut my brain off sometimes too.
But I'm tired of complaining. I'm tired of needing a drink to escape from the things that make me want to complain. And I'd like to give my diet and exercise regimen a chance to have some results. I remember noticing how great a friend looked after a few months of diet and exercise (I won't out him, here) and having him counter with, "I had to take a break from drinking to really get the results I wanted." I admired his self-discipline.
So, with just over 100 days left in the year (and remembering how I completely changed my body and my spirit in as much time eight years ago), I'm considering doing a major self-improvement campaign. I already exercise every day. I eat gluten-free and drink tons of water. I don't drink sodas or coffee or any of those things that tend to derail people. I'm currently the healthiest I have ever been, despite being a good 50 pounds overweight. My heart, my lungs, my knees, my endurance... all outstanding. Hair and nails strong and long. Skin flawless. And I am blessed with a kick-ass hourglass figure, even though it needs to reduce by about 20%. I don't have "problem areas." I'm just a big girl.
Here's the thing though. I can't tell if I need to do a T-totaller "give up drinking for the rest of the year" thing or if I can do like I did eight years ago and give myself "reward days" every now and then (days on which I can be less strict in all areas--food, drink, exercise requirements). I kind of like the idea of forcing myself to be 100% for 100 days, but I also can't imagine that it's a practical expectation. What I DON'T want to do is decide to be "perfect" then choose to have a night off and turn that into an excuse (ala: "I failed. I suck. Screw it. It's all over").
Man! I just feel so good even imagining doing 100 perfect days. It was such an amazing thing, watching my body change when I did a 100-day campaign in '98 (note: I did not do 100 "perfect" days back then... but I also had a very different lifestyle, being a full-time PhD student at the time).
What to do, what to do? Hmm. I guess I'll just start with one day and see how that feels. I guess I'm blogging about this as a way of holding my feet to the fire (although I can already tell I'll get annoyed by questions of, "Hey, how's that 100-day thing going?" if things AREN'T going well... so, I'm not sure what my plan is. Maybe I don't have a plan. Maybe I'm looking for suggestions? Hell... I'm just glad I'm not bitching in this entry. I am sooooooo over the complaining. That is a BAD habit, for sure).
Posted by bonnie at 12:55 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
May 10, 2006
Oh! That's what this is.
Wow. It's so weird. I was just toodling along, going through the submissions on the film I'm casting, when BAM! Something went wonky. My emotions started flying all over the place and I couldn't for the life of me understand what would make me so completely fly off the grid.
Ah yes. 11 May 2006 would've been my mother's 73rd birthday. There ya go.
Even though it does, somehow, get less heart-wrenching each year, I guess there are going to be days when it just slices right through my heart that I had to lose my mom when I was 30.
I know, I know! I had her for THIRTY YEARS. Some daughters get nothing close to that with their moms... or if they do, they don't have the CLOSENESS that we did. Damn, we were so so so so close. She was SUCH my best friend. And my therapist. And my mentor. And my MOM, dammit.
Ugh.
So, now that I GET why I'm suddenly a basketcase, I can get through it and continue on. Because that's what Charlsie's only daughter would do, right? Absofuckinglutely!
Posted by bonnie at 11:04 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
April 8, 2006
I miss...
That is all.
Posted by bonnie at 8:56 AM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
April 4, 2006
Typical
Lots of work. Amazingly productive. Swirls of activity that inspire and floor me.
Followed by a tiny smack to the ego, a disproportional emotional crash, and the overwhelming thud of sleepiness.
At least this pattern has become predictable.
Figured I'd blog about it since I'm nothing if not open about my process. Perhaps it may help someone to know that even those of us on the path to world domination get the funk from time to time... and then choose to go to bed. Right, CoCo?
Yes, even insomniacs hibernate every now and then. ;) It's fun! G'nite. Zzzzz....
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March 27, 2006
Fuck You, High Road
I don't always like you.
But I'm going to take you.
My husband, on the other hand, will be meeting me on the other side of this mountain after having kicked someone's ass all the way down that low road.
Posted by bonnie at 11:09 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
January 21, 2006
OMG. I finally get it.
So, today was officially the castingest day EVER. I spent hours importing footage from films I've cast* in order to edit down my official casting demo reel. Lots of editing still to do, but what a happy job that is!
Meanwhile, I am putting final notes together for the next several casting gigs, details of which should be available in the next couple of weeks. Rock ON!
Okay, so where's the "I finally get it" stuff coming into play?
Well, as I watch the rough footage from these films I've cast (for the umpteenth time), I see imperfections. Typical. Same as when I reread my columns and get bummed out to find a typo or misplaced modifier or (*shudder*) split infinitive. It's just ugly. But it's human.
Okay, so at one point, I take a (well-earned) break. I'm looking at the cover art from one of the films' DVDs. It's gorgeous. And, reflecting back on how I felt the VERY VERY VERY first time I saw footage from this film, I felt truly flutter-filled with joy. I then thought, "Aw. It's a dayum shame that, the more I've looked at it, the more of its flaws I somehow see."
wheels turn... smoke pours from ears...
Wait a sec. What have I seen more of IN LIFE? What have I spent MOST OF MY LIFE focused on, simply due to the fact that I've had the most constant exposure to it?
That'd be ME.
Holy crap. Is a big part of the reason I see so many flaws in myself the very fact that I keep LOOKING? And perhaps those who consume only a fraction of me truly do have a much more balanced perspective on what my WHOLE is?
Just a load of thoughts, on a Saturday. Next time I get hyper-self-critical, perhaps I can just remember to take a dose of ANYTHING ELSE long enough to shift my perspective. Then realize, hey, I'm not that bad.
< Ali > Word. < /Ali >
* Have I mentioned how happy I am to finally have footage from even a FEW of the films I've cast by now?
Posted by bonnie at 11:23 PM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
January 14, 2006
Opposite of Grace
What's the opposite of grace?
I put spiritual grace above most things. I like to endure hardships (if I must) with grace and an open heart. So why is it that, physically, I am the opposite of grace-filled?
My body has been taking a beating so far in this short year. A couple of weeks ago, I slammed into a railing in the courtyard, putting an enormous, deep, long-lasting bruise on my upper arm. Last night, I not only arrived late for the screening (something that already had me unhappy, seeing as being late is about the rudest thing I can think of), but I slammed my wrist into a column on the wall. Hard. Talk about making an entrance!
So, I'm already feeling self-conscious and too fat to go out in public among the cute Hollywood people and I arrive late and make everyone in the room look at me as soon as I walk in, by hitting the wall so hard. Fine. Breathe. Enjoy the movie. Love the performances. Soak in the happy feelings of having put together another amazing cast. So, the movie's over and I walk out of our row and into the aisle. I'm hugging a couple of the actors, thanking them for making me look good, and then I step back to introduce Keith. As I step back, my heel goes off the step and down I go, backwards, all the way down the stairs and flat on my ass, then shoulder, then head. I land and squeal, "Wheeee!" It's the only thing I could think of.
Now, my mom had what she called an "embarrassment karma" issue. She would muster up all of the courage it took to go out in public and then find a way to embarrass herself once there. I thought about that, as I remained on the floor, gathering up the shards of my pride before attempting to stand again. Ugh. Nothing so humiliating as an ego smackdown.
But I'm human, and accidents happen, and I moved forward with grace (I hope) to make up for the lack of grace I have, physically.
But I'm left thinking about Mom and her issues. I'm left wondering why I'm beating myself up so much right now and whether I'm simply externalizing the self-loathing that exists within or I'm attempting to break myself down to slow the progress I'm facing on other levels. Like maybe I don't deserve my career success? Or the amazing relationships I've developed? What on Earth could this be about?
Hell, maybe I'm just a klutz. But I like to look at life a little more deeply than that. Blame Charlsie. Mom could analyze a freckle on a flea. *sigh* I don't know. I'm conflicted. And I'm dressing in bubble wrap from here on out.
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December 29, 2005
Oh Thank God
News regarding Eric Gelman's killer:
Transient Arrested For Stabbing Death Of Waiter.
Thank God.
We miss you, Eric.
Posted by bonnie at 7:16 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
December 16, 2005
Synchronicity
There is something so beautiful about the way life works sometimes.
We make a casting decision late today on Still of the Night and I call the actor's agent. The voicemail has already been switched on, indicating the agency (one of the biggies) is closed until 4 January 2006. I don't HAVE to have this guy's contract locked today, but I sure as hell need him to know the offer has been made, get at least a verbal yes, and move forward in good faith with letting the non-cast actors' representatives know status.
I go to IMDB-Pro to look up this actor's manager info. Nope. Wrong info. Call the management company, whose employees have never heard of him... obviously outdated info. Fine. Call the attorney of record (for no reason other than to be SURE that someone, somewhere knows an offer is coming over). Leave a message with assistant.
Exhale. This may be as far as I can get with this deal this year.
Couple of hours later, phone rings... it's the attorney. I give him all of the info about the project, he says he'll do his best to get the info to his client, just so that we can know if he's even going to be available to do it (he's a series regular on a hot new show right now), we joke about how we're still busy at work at dark on the day when everyone in Hollywood left town at noon for the rest of the year. Hee hee, ho ho, good convo. Six minutes, tops.
One of the things he says, at the end of the conversation, is that he's very well-versed (surprisingly) in indie film deals, seeing as he reps a few producers and has built more than a few distribution deals, writer packaging, blah blah blah, and maybe we should get to know each other better.
Yes.
Let's do that. I tell him I'm just about to hit my three-year mark with casting, the next film I've got on my plate is a $2M feature film that I'm just really excited about, I'm movin' on up, yada yada, and it might be a good time for me to take a meeting at this level.
Why NOT have someone who is PAID (commission) to read scripts and negotiate my casting deals for me? Why NOT?!?
I'm sooooo in.
Oh, and a footnote... the owner of the big-deal agency that had been closed a few hours earlier just called me on his cell to give me a verbal yes on the deal, let me know how much his client loved auditioning for me and specifically for this project, and that we'll do the paperwork in the new year, "Tell Gary Marsh that I love him when you have dinner with him next week," and so on.
Life... she is goooooooooooooooood.
AND--Keith is on his way home with well-reviewed gluten-free pizza crust so that I can have something I've been craving (but finding unsatisfactory) for the year I've been gluten-free. Yippee! I just LOVE it when it all comes together! Thanks, universe! You rock!
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December 12, 2005
So, why?
Okay, so I've been asked about The Sum of All Years project and how it is I've decided to (over) share so much. Well, I look at it this way.
I'm a public person. I'm out about my damage (after having not been for so many years). And there are people who live everyday lives and have walked the same trail of tears I have, when younger, and never feel they'll be enough. And maybe I can help. Maybe I can prove that you can have everything go wrong and still make it. Or that you can appear as though you've done everything right and still have a shadow self (and that there's nothing wrong with that). Heck, maybe it's all about giving me an excuse for my mid-life damage, airing all of the "back then" BS. I don't know! And maybe I don't have to know.
What I like about this project is that it's about an autobiography. That's why I can't leave anything out. Yes, you could wait 'til I'm dead and dig up my unshared writings and learn whose fingerprints have been on my life... or I could own it now and say, "And y'know what? I'm STILL OKAY."
Nothing wrong with that.
It may be totally narcissistic, but it could also be liberating to others. I'm human. I'm broken. And I still happen to do just fine, thank you.
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Happy Casting Director
So, y'know I love to brag about the amazing casts I bring together for such GREAT films, right? Well... this one is different. Last night, I attended the World Premiere of Queen of Cactus Cove with the cast, crew, and our families.
And I cried.
Yes, I always cry when I see a film I've cast (and that's been four that have actually had public screenings thus far--another four not yet filmed, the other nine still in post), but this film was BEAUTIFUL. I am in awe of the cinamatography, the brilliant direction, perfect writing, and natural acting. Hell, to single elements out is unfair to the whole film--which is PERFECT. I was so giddy after the screening. I hugged the actors who turned out for the screening and gushed about how they made me look brilliant for casting them. Man... this is EXACTLY why I do this job.
And today I spoke with a friend/filmmaker/writer/actor who told me he is paying his casting director $10K to cast his film. Yeah. Y'know what... I'm going to start getting paid better in 2006. Starting up with HILMMAKS is a good launchpad. Man, the feedback on this script is amazing. I'm so happy to be casting it.
In other news, MCJ was here for a visit and it rocked. We had friends over for fun, drinks, games, and loads of gossip. And some emotions... Yeah. Did you know that when I drink I'm emotional? Oh, wait... did you know that when I breathe I'm emotional? Damn Cancer-the-Crab stuff. Oh well, in the company of good friends, it's all okay.
Okay, so I wasn't able to make the final casting offers as scheduled for Still of the Night, so I'll do those tomorrow (I hope). The book is at the printer, and that's a big sigh of relief. Keith is averaging about six national commercial auditions (and one callback) per week lately. It's just a matter of time. Rock on!
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December 8, 2005
Grr
Y'ever just get really OVER all of the shiite that you can't control, fix, or otherwise influence in any meaningful way?
Seriously. Keith's over there chanting the Serenity Prayer to me and I'm like, "I CAN change this stuff, if these fuckers will just GET OUT OF MY WAY!"
*sigh*
Serenity my ass.
Posted by bonnie at 6:36 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
December 2, 2005
Happy Dance
Tonight, for the first time in MONTHS, there will be a gathering of the Ladies of the Gimlet. Yippee!
That's right... it's finally time for a Gimlet Night! This time: Cranberry Ginger Cosmos and gluten-free baked goods. Of course, the hours and hours of talking, laughing, and pontificating are standard fare. Heeeeeee! Can't wait to see my best girlfriends!
And...
To get you into the holiday spirit, sister Liz has sent a photo of Luke in a Kings' Xmas cap. Hey--animal lovers, keep Joseph in your warm, loving thoughts. Tomorrow is likely to be his last day here. :( Go in peace, sweet Joe. {{{hugs to the fam}}}
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November 29, 2005
Observation/Warning
I'm going to make an observation about the process of taking on The Sum of All Years project.
It's more like therapy than I'd anticipated it would be. And it's hard to distill each year down to its most... what? Most life-defining? Most memorable? Most exciting? Most wish I could forget it? Most still a part of me? Most what I've conquered? Most how I now see myself... events. I still don't know. And I'll save most of my postmortem for, well, after.
Just know, if you take on this challenge (as many of you have said you'll do), you'll likely find some truths about yourself that you didn't think you'd ever make public (and wonder what the agenda has been in keeping things to yourself... as well as what the agenda may be in revealing them now), and you'll learn you're both more and less broken than perhaps you thought you were.
Again, more at the end. Just wanted to get that out there, as fair warning for anyone taking on the project.
A part of me wants to stop. A part of me cannot. A part of me must. A part of me will not.
Thanks for reading, just the same.
Posted by bonnie at 10:15 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
November 15, 2005
How To Fix a Sucky Mood
Step one: Go to bed way early and sleep as long as possible before you have to get up to start your exhaustingly long day.
Step two: Check email before dashing out the door and read all of the awesome, brilliant, loving, funny, and supportive comments left at your blog from when you bitched about being rubbed the wrong way so much you feel like a new hooker's practice dildo.
Step four: Baby-talk kitties and have them show bellies off as if to say, "If you wanted to stay home all day and play with us, that would be okay too."
Step five: Ask hubby to print out directions to the two locations for the day's casting activities and don't notice 'til you're in the car that he used the little memo field that MapQuest provides to type love-notes.
Step six: Drive your kick-ass sixteen-year-old car really fast and zippy-like, showing all of the SUVs and Beemers how the twists and turns on Sunset west of The 405 are *really* done.
Step seven: Find a run of like five great songs in a row on various morning radio stations, all worth singing along to. Loudly.
Step eight: Have a good day of casting in which everything runs (mostly) without a hitch and after which your taste is praised and all of the BS that looked like it might go another way has washed down the RIGHT pipe after all.
Step nine: Stop by Whole Foods on the way home and pick up a salmon steak and grilled asparagus for $10.
Step ten: Blog it all up while digitizing and uploading video files of the day's sessions (and sipping a really neat little wine you found before leaving the store).
There you have it! Blood no longer boiling (for now... ). Gotta love those emotional roller coasters. Good thing to know they continue well into your 30s and sometimes it's just a matter of having a few big ol' sucky days.
Followed by a great one.
Cheers!
Posted by bonnie at 8:17 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
November 14, 2005
Um, hi... yeah.
Remember me?
Well, you're lucky. I sure as hell don't!
Didja ever notice there are certain people who just really rub you the wrong way?
Do you sometimes notice there are more-than-the-average-number of people rubbing you the wrong way for a bunch of days in a row?
And do you begin to wonder if maybe it's you who is turned the wrong way, which is why all of the rubbing FEELS like it's going on in the wrong direction?
And then do you think, "Hey! Who are you and why are you rubbing me?!?"
Dammit. I should really be liking all of this manhandling a LOT more.
Ugh.
Stop bothering me, people. And if it's ME and not YOU... then dangit, Bon, STOP BEING SO BOTHERED! Really. This is getting way old.
Posted by bonnie at 7:18 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
October 30, 2005
My Liver!
Was it a Beavis and Butthead line? God, what a random memory. I don't even think I ever watched more than five minutes of that show, when it was on, but I seem to recall a faked accident and one of the guys clutching his chest, yelling, "My liver! My liver!" The other guy whispered, "Lower!" And he either--can't recall which--dropped his hand to his crotch and said, "My liver! My liver!" or lowered his voice and said it. Hm.
Either way...
I've started a liver cleanse. Have to do that before taking anything for my thyroid. Ugh. I had a few panic attacks, just going over it all. So much stress about mysterious issues of the bod. Very very very odd. Anyway, I'll keep y'all posted. Wish me luck.
While googling for that first image, I found this one, immediately above. It got me to thinking... how common is this practice of cutting out faces of exes in photos? I've never done it. I've never even torn a photo in half for drama. So odd to want to trash the photo to... what? Feel better? Perform a ritual, removing the person from your life more literally? Show the world you're more narcissistic than sentimental? What?
And finally, a quiz. Can YOU tell your programming language creators from your serial killers? Hee! Fun.
Posted by bonnie at 1:44 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 28, 2005
One of those days.
Y'ever have one of those days? You know the kind.
Birds are singing, sun is shining, you're well fed, in love, and have received so much praise for doing good work that you have the glow of happiness all around you--just ready to hug you with the realization that you truly have the most AMAZING life...
and you couldn't be more miserable?
Yeah. I'm having one of those days.
It sucks.
Happily, though, I did receive the poster art for Queen of Cactus Cove, which is simply gorgeous. I'll share that, as maybe sharing something beautiful will improve my mood. I mean, if getting an offer to cast yet ANOTHER (yes, that's three) low/mid-budget feature film, learning I'm personally responsible for a talented Scotish actor's move to Hollywood to follow her dreams, and reaching the final-edits stage on the book isn't enough to make me happy, maybe at least the soothing blue poster will help.
Ugh.
Somedays, it's like you can't catch a break, what with having EVERYTHING going for you and all.
Yes, I'm really really really really really going to try and remember this: Even when life rocks, there's "down." It doesn't mean a damn thing and you might as well enjoy the low spots, since they come no matter how much life rocks. Blah blah blah blah blah. Self-indulgent bullshit. Blah blah blah blah blah.
Posted by bonnie at 5:18 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
October 26, 2005
Quite a Loss
I just learned that the dear, sweet, talented Sue Ozeran passed away last week (after having survived pancreatic cancer for seven years) due to stomach cancer. Her friends Muriel Minot and Terrence Beasor wrote a loving tribute to her at the SAGActor.com board (you may have to register to read it).
I was fortunate enough to have been able to cast Sue in Queen of Cactus Cove earlier this year, after she'd made it to final callbacks on FIVE of the films I had cast prior to that one.
It is always tough to lose a talented performer who loves life and thrives on sharing her gifts with the world. Even tougher when that amazing person is a friend. Rest in peace, dear Sue. My prayers are with Bud and the rest of your sweet family.
Posted by bonnie at 10:25 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
October 22, 2005
People are...
weird.
That is all.
Posted by bonnie at 10:22 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
October 10, 2005
Sandbox
I DO NOT GIVE GOOD SANDBOX.
I do NOT play well with others.
And you can't MAKE me!
Posted by bonnie at 10:52 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
September 20, 2005
So Thrilled!
Seriously, I know it's odd, but I am THRILLED to be so so so sick.
Fever, sinus crud, can't swallow, throat on fire... THIS is stuff I can understand! AND I LOVE IT! Soooooo much better than the mystery that is baffling brain chemistry!
Oh, and in reviewing my post about us being hitched, I realize I shared some good details with friends elsewhere that readers of the BonBlogs might like to see. So, follow this link and weed through the congrats posts to get some of the inside info. ;)
Back to bed. Ahhhhh... it feels so good to be sick!
Posted by bonnie at 1:38 PM | TrackBack
And... SCENE!
Cool. It's raining.
As Keith would say: "Rain. Classic literary symbol for change."
Good.
After a very fitful night of semi-sleep, I woke up around 4am with a searingly sore throat and the need to blow my nose... a bunch. But somehow, my head felt CLEAR.
That braincloud crap I've been enduring for just over a week was seemingly gone.
So, I came into the livingroom, began sorting paperwork for the new book (busywork, to sort of see whether the panic had passed or was just hiding), and within an hour... RAIN.
Felt like that moment in the movie when you realize everything's gonna be okay, in spite of everything.
Awesome.
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September 18, 2005
Panic Sucks
Seems, just as 40 is the new 30, panic is the new migraine. I have all of the symptoms that usually come with a major migraine, but no pain. I'm beginning to realize that migraines, as painful as they are, suck MAINLY b/c of all of the other stuff.
I'm deleting the rest of this entry. I'm ready to be over this. Sure, it may come again--there does seem to be a pattern here--but for right this second, I want to be past this. So, I'm going to stop talking about it.
Posted by bonnie at 12:56 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
September 17, 2005
Couplathings
1. Working on the book helps calm panic attacks.
2. Watch the pre-Emmy Emmy Awards (Creative Arts version) tonight on E! to see Kathy Joosten pick up her Emmy (plus casting directors April Webster, Mandy Sherman, Alyssa Weisberg, and Veronica Collins Rooney for Lost; John Papsidera for Lackawanna Blues; and Scott Genkinger and Junie Lowry-Johnson for Desperate Housewives). That's so cool! Maybe someday, the Oscar people will do an award for casting. *sigh*
3.
4. Book stuff: anyone who's read Self-Management for Actors have an opinion about a chapter I'm on the fence about keeping? That'd be the STAND-UP COMEDY one. I mean, I cover SOAPS and EXTRA WORK and HOSTING, so there's room for it... but I don't cover VOICEOVER. I can't cover everything, of course, but I'm just wondering... did the STAND-UP COMEDY chapter stick out as out-of-place? Should I keep it and add in VOICEOVER and LOOPING? Hm.
5. Blogging seems to recharge my panic levels, so I'm going back to book edits. Wish me luck! Watch the Emmys tonight and tomorrow night too. Congrats to my friends and colleagues!
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The Shakes
Been going through some very odd physical things for the past week. Not sure what's going on.
I'm shaking, shivering, enduring panic attacks, feeling that airhead feeling I mentioned before, and having some very odd "toxic dumping" stuff happening.
I don't understand it. I don't fear it, which is good, but I sure don't love it. I have to leave the house tomorrow, so I need to at least stop with the shaking and find a way to NOT panic out.
Cute image thanks to the greatness of Elizabeth Tindal.
Posted by bonnie at 12:46 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
September 12, 2005
Love, Love Me Do...
...you know I love you! I'll always be true. So, please... love me do!
So, the beautiful film The Moor screened tonight at the LA International Short Film Festival--which rocked like a cradle!
BTW--The Moor is hitting the Hamptons Film Fest next. Rock on, rockstar film! As CoCo said, it's the feel good romantic comedy of the year, yo? ;)
There were many wonderful films at this screening, which made me way happy (and there were many way cool actors, producers, directors, writers, and other Bon camp folks). Also, there were actors I love in the house, who I'll cast any time--plus some potential love connections. I hate that some of the people we were most excited about hanging with ended up having to go home, but it was still a great night. Real life happens. What can ya do?
More than that, it was a great MORNING. I met with many filmmakers who are at that amazing "gotta hire someone to cast my next film" stage. And maybe they want me. That could be cool.
Still, I must focus on the book before I find room to cast more films.
Damn you, time management! ;)
Good night. Good times. I cried like a baby for the first two minutes of The Moor and said that it's that whole, "Everything relies on my ability to do my job right," thing. I think I was just really, really proud.
Ah, it was way gratifying, all the way around.
Oh, and... you should read this...
No politics. Just what it is.
Posted by bonnie at 1:59 AM | TrackBack
September 6, 2005
Too Angry To Blog
Why haven't I blogged (much) about Katrina? Well, I tend not to get political in my blog entries (anyone who knows me knows where I stand on most issues--and those who don't know me can probably place safe bets, based on my words when I *am* vocal about political issues) and when I think about the state of disaster relief (and the lack of action that could've occurred BEFORE the disaster to lessen the loss), I get pissed.
Watched most of the 48 Hours' episode on Katrina and, in a story about FEMA, heard this gem:
What does FEMA say about all this? That this was a storm like no other. Local FEMA coordinator Michael Beeman says he doesn't want to bring in too many people too fast and overtax the devastated infrastructure."How many of you are having problems getting gas and you're asking us to bring more people in here? What we're trying to do is to think the process out," he says.
THINK THE PROCESS OUT? Are you fucking kidding me? No, I'm not asking anyone to charge in anywhere half-cocked, but for the love of God, FEMA, don't you EXIST to be in service when disaster strikes? Isn't a part of your raison d'être the fact that you HAVE FUCKING PLANS IN PLACE FOR HOW TO HANDLE DISASTERS?
This is an embarrassment, plain and simple.
I don't care what your politics are. Bureaucracy at this level isn't ABOUT your political agenda or your beliefs. Bureaucracy at this level equals an abandonment of a population. This is a form of genocide.
Posted by bonnie at 9:02 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
September 3, 2005
Others Say It Better
There is little to say about the state of natural disaster and speed of government response (vs. fictional WMDs and speed of government knee-jerk) that hasn't been said better* elsewhere. So, I'll just share some sillies.
Build your own church sign (thanks to CoCo, with whom I had an excellent tea date yesterday).
Visit a clever Cooking Monkey (hee hee... munkey), also thanks to CoCo (*she's also one of the ones saying it better).
And cast your votes in the Kitten War, which is simply a rockin' good waste of time, thanks to Ames' link to Cats In Sinks last week.
As for any tales about my brother's visit, those have been shared privately with those who experienced it and today is an official Day of Silence in the Gillespie-Johnson household in an attempt to recover. Thank you to those who joined in the Gas Light karaoke-fest last night. I think, when my brother screamed, "Bitch!" at the top of his lungs at me during my rendition of Piece of My Heart, he meant it as a compliment. *sigh* I am so less broken than I sometimes think I might be. Focusing on the positive, I will just say thank you to the universe for the reminder.
Glad August is over. Glad it's cooler. Glad we raised a buttload of money to send to the Red Cross last night. Glad my brother didn't pee in my wastebasket (thanks again, Keith... for everything).
Yes, the SpyNotebook's Google ads are broken.
Silence is good. Go click on kittens. I know I will.
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