2014 Lenten Discipline - Kat tries to live/enjoy her busy social life on $60 a week - aka "She CRAZY"

Every year, even though I long ago abandoned my Catholic upbringing and although I currently regularly attend Methodist services I wouldn't call myself very religious, I commit to and benefit from observing Lent.
Lent is a Christian religious observance that in the liturgical calendar begins on Ash Wednesday and covers a period of approximately six weeks ending on Easter Day. The traditional purpose of Lent is for “believers” to show their faith through prayer, penance, repentance, atonement, and denial. Its institutional purpose is heightened in the annual commemoration of Holy Week, marking the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus.
But what I've always used the Lenten season for is as a forced time to discipline myself and give up something that I rely on too much; an annual 6-week break from a vice. Over the past decade or so this practice has devolved into a rather stale and predictable pattern. Each year I'd give up either alcohol or sugar, sometimes caffeine, and I'd patiently (sometimes not so patiently) bide my time until Easter Day where I'd binge on whatever thing I'd denied myself for the previous 6 weeks.

But at the beginning of this year I was hit by a car as I crossed the street, and although I escaped with only minor injuries, those injuries have been slow to heal. I've also had to deal with an already ill father getting sicker and more dependent, and family members being either unreasonable or unavailable to help.
I bring these events up to say that I've been in a very stress-filled yet contemplative head-space. I've been forced to make some changes in my life that I have been resistant to, and it's thrown some things into perspective for me.
One realization has become clear - I SPEND TOO MUCH MONEY

Listen, I know I'm a pretty lucky person. I have a fairly stable career that pays me well, and I have a nice looking balance in my bank accounts and retirement money markets and stock portfolios. I don't have any kids that I have to pay for, and just a 20+ lb cat that I treat to fancy food and filtered water.
I have a nice house, but also a nice fat mortgage. I have a fairly decent well-running car but it's also almost a decade old and I could use an upgrade, which would mean a car payment. And that no kid thing? Try having an elderly, sick parent whose meager pension and SSA benefits only cover a quarter of his expenses, so guess who gets to cover the rest?

I in no way want or need your pity - I am well aware that I travel regularly to nice locales, fly first-class, and generally get to do things that many of my friends and family only dream about. I have nice clothes and accessories, a collection of fancy handbags, I like fine wines and top-shelf liquors and I treat myself to them liberally, I'm a "foodie" who never hesitates to go out to fancy dinners and never balks at laying down $100 for a good meal.
All of this is to illustrate that while I have the means and wherewithal to afford to comfortably indulge myself and do what I want, - I SPEND TOO MUCH MONEY.

So I decided last week that this year for Lent I wouldn't do the safe, predictable thing; where each year the biggest inconvenience has been that my birthday inevitably falls smack in the middle of the Lenten season and boy isn't it a drag that I can't have a birthday cocktail or a piece of cake. This year I would really challenge myself; I would use Lent as a true time of reflection and atonement. I would put myself on a very strict budget.
I'm not counting my bills, my medical expenses, or things like gas for my car. This is strictly a budget for my personal spending; the money I use for groceries, clothes shopping, eyebrow waxing, pedicures, movies, going out to dinner, or drinks with my friends.
My goal is to spend no more than $60 a week between March 5 and April 20.

YIKES! Am I right?
So far it's gone fairly well; but it's only been three days. I'm keeping a spending journal, and seriously, I've already had several eye-opening moments. In just the past three days I've been way more conscious of what I do with my money. And that's really the whole point of this Lenten practice - to be more aware and conscious.
I don't know if I'll be successful every week, in fact I probably won't, but I will be more mindful. I will be cognizant as I choose that $15 glass of Pinot Noir; I will be attentive. And that's all I'm really asking of myself. I may post some of my progress over the next 6 weeks. Feel free to mock, criticize, or pity me. I probably deserve it.

Harummphhh!

This is the look I've been giving everyone today:

Just so you're forewarned.

Happy Birthday to me - Over The Hill edition

Today is my 40th birthday. Yikes! And while I want and should be feeling like Charlie and Snoopy above, today I've mostly been thinking about my mom and a conversation she and I had on her 40th birthday back when I was in 7th grade. Back then, the thought of being forty was totally unfathomable to me. I thought for sure by 2011 we'd be flying around in space cars and that I'd have 4 kids and be living in some Blade Runner-esque world. When mom turned 40 she was super excited but also a little frightened. At the time she was contemplating leaving her job and beginning a whole new career, and she was dealing with the fact that her beloved mother was very sick and probably in the last months of her life (which turned out to be correct). Of course, she didn't share any of these big concerns with me; instead she talked with me about how when you're a teenager or young adult you tend to make all these plans that never actually become realized. And that that's okay. That the whole "everything happens for a reason" "God always has a plan" sentiments are actually pretty true. And how things are are how they were meant to be. My mom told me that when she was a freshman in college she imagined herself at 40 as being some famous artist living in Europe with a gaggle of children and some fancy bohemian husband. But that her reality, living in the nation's capitol, mother of an only child who she was raising practically on her own because of her husband's out of town job; was a better reality, and the right reality for her.

So here I am forty years old today. And I don't have a space car. Nor do I have any kids, much less four. I'm not a famous photojournalist working for National Geographic; my dream at 9. I'm not a marine biologist; my dream at 19. I'm not a famous novelist; yet. I work in health care, with Medicare policy. I live by myself with a dog I inherited in a lovely modern home in Seattle, WA. I have wonderful friends. I'm doing ok. This is my reality. It's the right reality for me.

Things Blowing My Mind - for the week of January 10, 2011

I love America's Radio Sweetheart Jesse Thorn and regularly listen to a number of MaximumFun.org podcasts featuring him including Jordan Jesse Go, The Sound of Young America, and Judge John Hodgman. And even though I've seen Jesse Thorn in person, I recalled him looking like a younger version of Peter Sagal from NPR's Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me. I thought he was a tall man with short dark hair who was in his late 30s.
But then I listened to him on a podcast relate a story about his stepmother where he was talking about being in 4th grade in like 1990 and I was like WTF?!!

Jesse Thorn looks like this -

Totally different than I thought or recall when I saw him at Bumbershoot in 2008. And he's only 29 fucking years old. Jeezus, I'm old.

I know I'm the only person on Earth who is shocked by, or who even cares about this revelation, but it was truly something that blew my mind. And kind of ruined my fantasy if I'm being honest.

Random Thoughts - "Little Darlings" movie edition

So I watched one of my favorite movies from childhood last night - Little Darlings, starring Kristy McNichol and Tatum O'Neal as teen girls at summer camp competing to see who can be the first to lose their virginity.

There's no way this movie could get made today. These girls aren't even old enough to drive and the whole premise is them casually trying to have sex first to win a bet. Sure, we've seen this type of plot in other teen comedies like American Pie etc., but usually involving older male teens, and never treated so flippantly.
The late 70s/early 80s were such different times; this movie is too innocent and yet too sophisticated at the same time to be something that could be viable these 30 some years later. Wow, acknowledging that this movie is over 30 years old is really hard for me to swallow. I AM SO OLD.

Other thoughts that struck me as I watched -
Evidently in 1979 it was perfectly okay for 15 yr olds to smoke cigarettes right out in the open, ALL THE TIME. Angel smokes on the school bus going to camp, in their cabin, during swimming lessons, while watching the camp talent show...none of the counselors, or the other kids, or her mom, ever seem to have a problem with her smoking butts every 10 minutes.

This movie, along with Meatballs from the same year, was the number one reason that I BEGGED my parents to let me go to camp in upstate New York. I wanted to experience everything that these girls were doing at Camp Hiawatha. And while my camp experience in 1981 and 1982 was pretty great, it never lived up to the expectations that I had set because of Ferris Whitney and Angel Bright.

Kristy McNichol was my idol! Sexiest tomboy alive.

I wanted to be Angel Bright, but I was totally Dana. You know, the brainy daughter of big-city progressive liberals, who quotes Shakespeare and listens to Rickie Lee Jones and Joni Mitchell while fantasizing about gettin' it on with her Philosophy professor in college.

I always forget that a pubescent Cynthia Nixon plays little hippie Sunshine in this film. She's awesome.

In one of my favorite scenes from the film, villainous Cinder has set up an elaborate seduction scene between the girl that she's backing in the bet Ferris (O'Neal), and counselor (and object of desire) Mr. Gary Callahan. Nixon's Sunshine is tasked to play background music near where Callahan is giving Ferris a swim lesson, and Cinder demands that Sunshine play something "sexy". On her recorder. Hee hee hee. Nixon promptly busts out a little Persian snake-charmer melody. Real sexy.
You know that this movie was made in 1979 because swarthy, short-shorts wearing Armand Assante is the hunk that all of the girls are lusting after. Mr. Callahan would not be considered hot these days.

The Angel Bright Guide to the Perfect Date -

 

• Feather your hair with a round brush
• Wear your prettiest purple tank top with your Levi's (cigarettes in the back pocket 'natch)
• Pick up date from neighboring summer camp by pulling up in a "borrowed" canoe that you rowed across the lake yourself.
• Row your date (because you are a badass that doesn't need the guy to row) down the lake to a secluded/abandoned boat shed.
• Pack a 6-pack of Bud, extra cigs, and condoms in your rucksack.
• Proceed to get your date so drunk that he passes out in his tighty-whities before you have a chance to make your move.

1980 Matt Dillon? So damn hot.

Best thing I've seen all week -

I know this is hard to read, but I encourage everyone to check the real one out on NBC.com or here to see it a little better. Some choice bits include:

• Crying - Acceptable at funerals and the Grand Canyon
• Friends - 1 to 3 is sufficient
• America - The only country that matters. If you want to experience other "cultures", use an atlas or a ham radio.
• B.O. - Cultivating a manly musk puts your opponents on notice.

Damn, I miss Ron Swanson and Parks & Recreation. When does the new season start again?

Writing a novel in 1 month = FAIL

So here it is, the last day of November 2010 and I did NOT finish writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Yes, yes I know that the month isn't technically over; I still have over 12 hours to churn out prose. But I have to start being realistic with myself; I only have just over 35, 000 words written - and they're not very good words at that.
No, I take that back, they're good words. It's my story that's shit. But it has potential. And for the first time in a long time I'm actually excited about seeing where the story goes. I just wish that I hadn't futzed around the first couple of weeks of November trying to figure it out, and then I wish I hadn't procrastinated as much as I did once I did figure the story structure out, blaming my lethargy on being sick etc.

So here I am a NaNoWriMo failure; but considering it was my first attempt, I'm pretty proud of myself nonetheless. I'd like to think that I will take some time in the coming weeks/months to finish and fine tune the novel that I started this month; but realistically I know that I probably won't. Instead I'm going to file it away, and maybe use it as an inspiration for next year's contest.

Speaking of procrastination and pep talks - the great Dave Eggers was asked by the NaNoWriMo coordinators to give us advice and these were his sage words:

Is procrastination a problem for you? Really? You think you have a problem?

Here's procrastination: The organizers of NaNoWriMo asked me three months ago to write this pep talk, and I'm only writing it now, after blowing three deadlines, after avoiding ten reminders. I was asked to write a pep talk for NaNoWriMo, and I'm actually writing it after the month started. So whatever procrastination problems you have, I probably have you beat. I'm the worst, and I'm getting worse every day.
It's a very strange thing, because we all think writing should be fun. That is, when I was temping through most of my twenties, wondering what it would be like to write for a living, hoping for such a life, I thought it might be pretty sweet. I thought if I ever got to write for a living, I would feel pretty lucky, and that I would be so appreciative that I would bound out of bed every day and, like a goddamned adult, I would write as much as I could every day, and get work done in a reasonable amount of time. Again, like an adult.
Instead, I need, on average, 8 hours sitting on my writing couch to get one hour of work done. It's a pathetic ratio. I stall, avoid, put off and generally act like someone's making me do some terrible job I never wanted to do. I blow pretty much every deadline I'm given.


Just like I blew the one for NaNoWriMo.


But then, when things are late, and I'm feeling like an idiot, and I feel like I'm letting down someone (like the people at NaNoWriMo, and you), I finally dig in and get started. And then I write, and I write in a fury, and I even, sometimes, enjoy writing.
And that's why I love NaNoWriMo. It gets you started. It gives you the impetus to finally start, and/or finally finish. Knowing there are thousands of others out there trying to do the same, who are using this ridiculous deadline as cattle-prod and shame deterrent, means goddamnit, you better do it now because you know how to write, and you have fingers, and you have this one life, and during this one life, you should put your words down, and make your voice heard, and then let others hear your voice. And the only way any of that's going to happen is if you actually do it. People can't read the thoughts in your head. They can only read the thoughts you put down, carefully and with great love, on the page. So you have to do it, goddamnit. You have to do it, and you can step back and be happy. You can step back and relax. You can step back and feel something like pride.
Then of course you'll have to revise it ten or twenty times, but let's not talk about that yet.

Write your goddamned book now. The world awaits.


D
Dave Eggers is the author of Zeitoun and What is the What.


Edited to add:
They've announced the "winner" of the 2010 Bad Sex in Fiction award. It goes to author Rowan Somerville for his book The Shape Of Her, a nothing sort of novel that was evidently self-published(?).
I have to say, even if it sounds like bragging, the one sex scene in the novel that I attempted to complete this month was a thousand times better than this crap that Sommerville wrote.

If actress Grace Kelly had lived she would've been 81 years old today. Reading the interwebs today about her is making me think of one of my favorite fictional characters in American cinema - Lisa Freemont. The privileged, gorgeous but savvy society girl who saves the day in the movie Rear Window.

When I was first exposed to Grace Kelly's Lisa Freemont as a young 8-year old girl, I thought she was the most beautiful, the smartest, and the most captivating woman I had ever encountered.
Lisa Freemont opened up whole new worlds for me with little profound bon mots like - "A woman going anywhere but the hospital would always take makeup, perfume and jewelry."     
Lisa was so glamorous! She was the fashion editor at Harper's Bazaar! And without her, her boyfriend wouldn't have solved the crime! Who else would've noticed a small detail like jewelry - 
"Women don't keep all their jewelry in a purse, all tangled, getting scratched and twisted up." - and run with that to expose the truth about the killer?!  

And on top of it all, Lisa Freemont taught me how to pack smart:

1. Take one beautiful, black leather Mark Cross attache bag.
2. Place inside said case a toothbrush and toothpaste, one ankle length pink satin nightgown with matching peignoir and a clean pair of underpants.
3. Don't forget your bedroom slippers.