Bohemian like me

When I was a girl, I used to wish that I had the kind of family that played musical instruments and recited poetry at parties, that would sit around talking about books they'd read and travel all over the world. I imagined animals in the house. A dog running excitedly after children, barking with delight, birds twittering in a cage and a cat slinking around a chair. Eclectic people would drop by for enlightening conversation; professors and travelers, visitors from other countries. We'd have a library full of books and all kinds of instruments sitting around like telescopes. I can see it so clearly, even now. It was probably from a movie I saw.

What I didn't realize then is that I actually had a pretty eclectic family, compared to most people I knew. We grew our own food and eschewed traditional medicine. We went for long hikes and bike rides together and to museums and historical sites. We drove cross country twice. My parents took us to Europe several times. I climbed the Eiffel Tower and stayed in a French country house. We toured Neuschwanstein Castle and picnicked in the Black Forest. We drove all over England and Wales and my brother and I danced all night at The Hacienda in Manchester. At home, we didn't watch TV, instead our favorites were The Marx Brothers and Alfred Hitchcock movies. I knew movies from the sixties better than any from the eighties. Exchange students from Japan, Germany and Sweden stayed at our house for a year at a time and my best friends in school were usually from other countries.

Instead of artists or professors, though, my parents were engineers and didn't care much for the arts. My dad was strict and controlling, not the kind sympathetic father that Gidget had. My friends didn't like being at my house (no TV, no junk food!) and I wasn't allowed to stay at anyone else's house. We rarely had animals and spent years sneaking cats into the house before my dad gave up protesting. Even though my parents had friends, they rarely came over and most of them weren't the kind that belonged in my bohemian household. The elements missing were art, chaos and wacky but genuine love and affection. I still dream of that household even though I'm unmarried, have no pets and keep a pretty tidy house.

In recent weeks, however, I've noticed myself frequently commenting (to myself, of course) that I have so many cool friends! The kind of friends that I imagined dropping by my dream family's house. Max was on Charlie Rose talking about his book, Adam is making a feature and writes a biting political blog, Annmarie is educating people on native nutrition and making all of her own food from scratch, Ross' first feature premieres next month, Steve is putting investor's packages together for a soon-to-be Broadway musical and Addi plays a balloon bass in Unpopable, now available on iTunes. They have a fantastic video that really sums up that wackiness that feels like home to me. I guess it's not surprising that I've become the bohemian I always wanted to be.

Damn you Flickr!

Unless you're one of my dozen friends on Flickr, you wouldn't know that I've become obsessed; which is not a good thing to happen while I'm unemployed. A friend of mine had been bugging me to join for years and I kept writing back that I was perfectly happy with ofoto, now Kodak Gallery. Whenever I took pictures, which was usually trips and special occasions, I uploaded them there and invited friends and family to look at them. They could buy prints if they wanted although I don't know if anyone, other than me, has bought prints of my photos.

Finally, one day in June last year, after finding some pics of Santa Monica on Flickr, I thought it would be fun to upload some of my own since I'd been photographing my walks on the beach for a while. I uploaded several hundred photos from the last few years in L.A. only to discover that you have to subscribe to Flickr to upload that many. It took me almost a year but the day I planned my UK trip, April 1, 2008, I broke out the credit card and paid the $25 for a year of Flickr. Uh oh. I started uploading everything I had and tagging and sorting. Then I decided that I needed a new camera for my trip to the UK, my old one was well over four years old and less than two megapixels! Most camera phones are better than that now.

Two weeks and 700 photos later, I was a Flickr tagging and sorting maniac. Good thing I don't have a job because I spent about five whole days downloading, reviewing, tweaking, exporting, uploading, naming, tagging and organizing my photos. The reason I am reluctant to join these types of sites is not because I don't see the inherent value, it's because I know that if I like it, I'll get sucked in. It wasn't enough to have a place to send my friends to see pics of my trip, I needed to get more exposure! I joined groups, I looked at other people's photos, I submitted my photos, I made comments, I favorited and I tagged and tagged and tagged. Snapping like crazy at everything, I've uploading another 700 photos in the last month and signed up for Flickr stats which has since become a 7pm ritual, seeing how my photos performed that day. Performed? What's my ROI for this endeavor?

So far, it's not very good. Flickr'ing is keeping me from diligently applying for jobs and I've instead become obsessed with walls and pavement, no doubt fruitful pursuits. What I'd really like to see is more of my friends on Flickr. I know, I know! It's true though, you can't imagine how happy it makes me (and will make you) to see pictures of far away friends, family, babies, dogs and vacations pop up on the Flickr homepage. When I was in England, my relatives teased me for taking so many photos. They said I looked like tourist (imagine!) I explained that in the world that's young and hip, everyone takes pictures of everything. It's just another way that we communicate in this digital age. Showing people what we see through our eyes. That's a beautiful thing, no? So what are you waiting for?

A place in the world

Something happened today. I’m not sure what it was but today I felt like I finally engaged in the rest of my life. The last couple of weeks I’ve had this odd sensation of time passing but not really knowing what day it is, what month or even, sometimes, what year. I’ve been feeling dislodged from life, just not sure where I am, where I’m going and often, where I’ve been. Living in Seattle seems like a distant memory, the person I was is someone I wouldn’t recognize on the street. Los Angeles feels very far away, much farther than it actually is and I’ve never felt more distant from the people I love.

I miss being able to jump in the car and drive to my mom’s house. The same-old-same-old of her quiet suburban backyard, sitting with her drinking tea and talking about nothing, these things make my heart ache. I don’t call my friends as much, I think because I know I can’t make plans to meet them for dinner or drinks or lunch or shopping or yoga or a movie or a walk. I don’t want to be reminded of how far away they are. This is my third major move as an adult, my third time starting over with home, work, friends. I understand now why some people never do it. It’s one of those “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” type things, which is not to say that I’m not deeply aware that in the grand scheme of things, it’s nothing.

My co-worker’s dad has prostate cancer. He’s youngish and being treated so he’ll probably be alright but it’s been hard on her to see her dad weakened, to see a proud and able man diminished by age and disease. Another co-worker just lost his mom. My boss' uncle tried to kill himself with pills. Life is cruel and eventually we all meet that fate so I thank my lucky stars that my life is so interesting, dynamic and fruitful.

Today I went for a run. I don’t like to run especially but I find myself wanting to do it when I feel alive, when I have energy that needs to be spent, and when I want to clear my head. I now feel able to do that instead of lingering in a hazy fog hoping sleep will wipe it away. That’s how I’ve been for the last couple of weeks. Tired, foggy, and while happy for the most part, confused. Today I didn’t feel that way. Maybe it’s because we were putting our presentation at work together, the “here’s what we need to do our project” presentation to the big boss. If we get it, I still have a job, and maybe even more of the job I want. If we don’t get it (the millions of dollars), I’m not sure what happens. I stay here, find a job in the city, I don’t know.

I miss acting, ironically, I miss making movies, but I don’t miss Hollywood. This weekend I fly to the east coast to see one of my dearest girlfriends get married. She used to live here and it makes me sad that we missed each other, here, but nothing could make me happier than seeing her marry someone she loves. Maybe that’s part of what happened today. I realized that moving changes things – where I shop, what I do on the weekends, how I exercise, how I get to work – but the important things, it doesn’t change. My important people, my passions and interests, my sense of self and feeling of place in the world, these things I take with me. These things live inside me.