Am I Still Alive?

So I haven't posted anything for awhile. And I'm not sure there's anyone still paying attention to this thing....

I have been giving a lot of thought to the direction the blog should take, but I feel like this train has run out of steam. I no longer feel the need to publicly bash my ex. Nor do I want to discuss my current/future relationships with men anymore. Well, maybe not. I might have some more to add. And I kinda feel like I've discovered who I am and what I want. Now, it's just a matter of getting there.

We'll just have to see where this goes...

Silent Movies, Silenced

Bob Mitchell, the old man who had to be helped to the piano to play for the silent movies on Fairfax, has passed away. I am truly sad. I was fortunate to hear him play for a few Buster Keaton shorts earlier this year.

Love Makes the World Go Round

In Cabaret, Sally Bowles (Liza's character) sings about how money makes the world go round. But I have to disagree - or at least instigate an argument - love makes the world go round. Think about it. How many movies are about money? How many are about love? Most movies that are about money, are actually about love. What's more important?

I just drove home from dinner with friends. On the left was a pregnant moon. On the right, the hills on fire. When I saw the outline of the hills above my town on fire, I remembered the newspaper headline I saw ealrier in the day "Hundreds Flee Their Homes." What's more important? Saving your million dollar house from the flames? Or saving the people you love most?

I love LA! No, I hate it... no wait, I love it! Oh crap, I hate it again.

I have a love/hate relationship with this city. When I moved here, over 15 years ago, I hated it. I hated it long and hard. For 5 years straight, I asked my ex, "Can we please move away now?" I had no friends, a crappy retail job for one of the major studios, and took out my frustrations on the city. Then, I went to school, made friends (largely with people who were also new to LA), got a job doing archaeology, and forgave the city its evils. I even began to see the charm in the place.

One of my most memorable experiences - and the one that gave me my first glimpse of an interesting city hiding behind the smog - was excavating a 19th-century cemetery. 

Never having lived in another big city, I'm not sure how it compares. But given what I've learned on the street, it comes up short on a regular basis. When you think of LA, what comes to mind? Great art? Fantastic literature? Stimulating environment? Or... movie stars, scandal, illegal immigrants, dirt, crime, blond bimbos running on the beach... cultural wasteland, maybe?

If my ex ever wondered where I learned to be a flake, it's here. Flakes abound. Flakiness is common - tolerated - expected. If someone keeps their word... or shows up on time... I'm never quite sure how to handle it.

Post-Divorce Activities

Yes, copious amounts of meaningless sex - but I've covered that elsewhere. Now, I want to discuss the other 22 hours of the day.

Not long after I separated from my ex, I began to do all of the things I'd put off. First on the agenda was road trips. California is a huge state, and I'd seen about 50 square miles of it. I drove up the coastal highway to Monterey and its fabulous aquarium. I returned home to find the ex and his girlfriend leaving the house with a bunch of DVDs.

I took up swing dancing. I went alone and often. Sometimes I made friends. Mostly not. I sat on the side like a sad girl with no date for the prom.

I tried burlesque. I can now construct, adhere to the nipple, and twirl a pasty. Surely, this skill will come in handy someday - like the next time I am in a strange city and my ATM card is stolen and I need to make a few bucks to get home (and unfortunately this happens to me way too frequently).

Next, French. I always wanted to be fluent, now I could practice. Long story short, my accent sucks. It's never going to happen - no Frenchman is ever going to understand me.

And lastly, pinup workshops (hence the photo above). I'd always wanted some sexy photos of me - to give to the husband. What the fuck was I doing there now? Learning how to do my hair a la Marilyn Monroe style and... well, that's pretty much it. Unless you want me to pose on a bed in lingerie with a phone - I know how to do that now, too.

All of these activities were fun... and distracting. They distracted me from the fact that I didn't have a special person to share anything with. I would give them all up for a lazy night at home cooking and watching stupid TV shows with somebody who loves me.