Not a Significant Source of Cholesterol

Hello Blog-Friends!

I don't know if I told you, but I'm in the middle of training for a half-marathon.  It's my second, and I can tell you, I never thought I'd be the type of person to willingly run in races.  But...I've found running to be an easy kind of workout (you can do it anywhere, for free, without spending too much on equipment).  Plus it's been an interesting challenge.  I joined the track team in 7th grade (only because my best friend, Kim, wanted to join the track team and we did everything together), and the only thing I can really take away from that experience is the fact that my mother told me I look funny when I run.  So there you have it.

Nonetheless, I am currently running 5 times a week, with a day of cross-training (bike-riding) thrown in there.  One of the things I enjoy about this daily run is the opporutnity it gives me to really check out my neighborhood.  I've run essentially the same path over and over for the last year and a half, but inevitably something new surprises me every time.  Today, instead of my usual morning run, I opted to go out at about 2pm (one of the luxuries of unemployment is the ability to workout at whatever time I want to, not necessarily the crack of dawn).   And it was definitely a different kind of experience.  Early in my run, I was joined by a pack of high-school kids, in the midst of their afternoon P.E. run.  I am proud to say I was able to keep up with them, although thankfully our paths did not converge for long (nothing like watching a teenager run effortlessly to make you feel old).  But the most amusing part happened when I rounded the corner to my street and was half a block from my apartment.  I live on a residential street, all apartment buildings, and it's pretty quiet for the most part.  Not alot of pedestrian traffic, mostly just neighbors walking their dogs (and the occassional crazy homeless person, but that's another blog).  As I rounded the corner, I was approached by an older man dressed nicely in a suit carrying an empty 2-liter Coca-Cola bottle.  He started to say something, and I had to remove my headphones in order to hear him.  He dramatically indicated the empty Coke bottle to me, and proceeded to ask me, in severly broken English, "Please tell, have cholesterol?".  I thought, what the hell is he asking me?  Is this some sort of ambush?  Is some guy gonna pop out of the bushes while I try to decipher what this guy is saying to me?  But no, he simply wanted to know if Coke contained cholesterol.  As he went on to explain "Me no cholesterol.  Say doctor", I understood that he wanted to know if this 2 liter he just sucked down was going to kill him or not, based on the recommendations from his doctor.  He and I both studied the label, which I tried to tell him said "not a significant source of cholesterol" but it took alot of hand gestures and figuring out different ways to say "no" (like nada, nothing, zip, zero) to get my point across.  I finally saw the light bulb go off, he smiled, seemed excited by my answer, and went on his merry way.  Why the fuck he was walking down the street asking strangers this question is beyond me, but hey, this is Los Angeles after all.

Go Happy,
Amy

Is That In the Schedule?

Well, hello there, Blog-Friends!  Long time, no see.  Is this turning into a weekly blog?  It kinda seems so, based on my behavior.  But do I really need to impose that sort of schedule on a blog?  Can I just write, you know, whenever I feel like it?  That's just so out of character for me.  For three years I have been the Keeper of the Schedule...not my own, really, but my boss's schedule (and let's face it, he was WAY busier than me).  So I think I've become programmed to schedule every day down to the half-hour.  Hey, at least it's not down to the minute.  Not yet, anyway.  Give me a few weeks.

Take this whole unemployment thing.  I've basically arranged my weekdays to reflect that of your typical desk jockey:  wake up, work-out, shower, get ready, eat breakfast, "report" to work.  9am-1pm is for responding to emails, browsing for jobs, reading the latest industry and world news, and admittedly checking out my friends' Facebook pages (cuz, hey, I did that at my office job, too).  1pm-2pm is for lunch (longer if I have a lunch date, as you have to accommodate for transit times - I used to actually schedule "transit" in my boss's schedule - and it was always in blue).  2pm-6pm is for longer-range planning, strategizing, project implementation, more browsing for jobs, snack breaks, perhaps even an errand or two.  But now there's all kinds of other stuff coming up, and I think - where is that going to go in the schedule?  For example, I desperately need to learn some rudimentary Spanish for my upcoming trip to South America (I found through experience that it's pretty essential to be able to ask where the nearest bathroom is).  Does that fall into my "work" day?  Or is that for my "time off"?  If I study Spanish from, say, 3-4pm every day, does that count as goofing off?  Should I wait until I "clock out" at 6pm?  How about that etsy shop I want to open?  Does making upcycled handbags count as my primary work, or should it be relegated to the "moonlighting" position?  And why the hell am I even obsessing over this?  Is that OCD gene kicking in?  Or is it my middle-class guilt that I'm collecting a wage (unemployment) without really doing anything?  Good lord, sounds like I need a Valium.  I think I have a bad case of Calendar-related Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  After so many years of living and dying by The Schedule, it's hard to let go.

Oh, it's 12pm PST.  Time for my regularly schedule bathroom break. 

Go Happy, my Blog-Friends!
Amy

Where the Hell Have You Been?

Hola, Blog-Friends!

It's shameful that a whole week has gone by without one post from me.  How did this happen?  I'm unemployed, for god's sake, shouldn't that mean I have unlimited time for silly pursuits like a daily blog?  Apparently not.  Friends who have also recently been laid off tried to warn me that after the first week of dithering around you suddenly and inexplicably get really busy.  But busy doing what, exactly?

Well, for starters, I filmed an episode of a reality tv show on Monday.  Before you groan and tell me that no matter what I may have said or how good my intentions were, they are going to edit the crap out of it to make me look like either an asshole or an idiot.  Which may be true (I may not even need their help with that!).  But I figured what the hell, right?  It's called Character Fantasy, and it airs on USA during the commercial breaks of the USA movie.  Basically, they show you living out some kind of fantasy for a day.  I was cast in the "fantasy spa day" episode because the producers liked my story of being recently laid off and needing a spa day to rejuvenate and refresh so that I could proceed with my job search with a "fresh, new face and attitude!".  So Monday was a gruelling day of....massages and hot stone reflexology and deep-cleansing facials.  Oh, and a plug for Betty Crocker "Warm Delights" (I got to go home with a case!).  So be on the lookout for me late October being "surprised" at my apartment and whisked away to a day spa for some full-on pampering.  Pretty cool.

What else?  Well, I ran a 10K on Sunday morning and finished with my best time ever - 1:01:02 - for the first time averaging less than a 10 minute mile.  It was pretty awesome, even though the event was poorly organized (I couldn't find the start line, they ran out of water at the finish line before I got there, they ran out of goody bags before I got the expo, etc, etc, etc...fuckers).  I still didn't beat the guys who were running barefoot (can you believe that shit?  Barefoot on the street in Santa Monica?  No thanks.), but I still beat the 80 year old lady and the guy on crutches, so I got that going for me.

Hmmmm....I also did a staged reading of a play I've been writing over the last year with my dear friend, Lita.  Thanks to all who came.  I don't write alot, and when I have I know how hard it is to finally put your stuff out there and get feedback on it.  In fact, I always try to remember that when I'm asked to give my thoughts on other people's projects (and having worked in development for the last three years, it was almost daily).  It takes alot of nerve to open yourself up like that, and I have enormous respect for those who do it much more frequently (and graciously) than I do it.  But Lita and I got some insightful notes that will help take the project to the next level.  Onwards and upwards!

Gosh, what else?  I got new headshots taken, now comes the process of narrowing 500 pictures down to 10 so that I can get some feedback on those.  I don't know about the rest of you who get headshots taken, but I find it kind of stressful and exhausting.  I generally take good pictures, but it's still nerve-wracking to wonder if you are getting the shots you want, especially knowing how much money and time you are investing into them.  I think my shots turned out pretty good.  It's funny, though, to compare them to the first ones I got ten years ago.  I can see the age in my face, although I think I still look pretty damn good. :-)




Is this a good commercial shot?

Oh, and one of the things I have been looking forward to in my unemployment is finally having the chance to sample all the food trucks around LA (since, hell, I can spend the afternoon driving around looking for them).  Lucky for me, I hit the motherload of food trucks, and only about a half mile from my apartment!  Apparently they like to congregate behind the MTV building in Santa Monica at lunchtime...

The Greasy Weiner


Frankly, the "Greasy Weiner" truck sounds more like hangover food to me, so I opted to sample the tasty fare at India Jones.  I had a delicious paneer "Frankie" - you might call it an indian burrito with fried paneer and mango chutney wrapped in a grilled tortilla.  I sat on the grass next to my car and watched all the Viacom execs and production crews walking by with their baggies of trendy fast food.  It's nice to view them in their native habitat like this.

What's in store for later?  Why, dollar tacos and margaritas at Don Antonio's of course!

Go Happy,
Amy

COBRA and Other Venomous Specimens

I have officially made it through one week of unemployment.  I'll admit, though I've made endless "to do" lists and have had a flurry of energy, I had moments of feeling at loose ends.  Moments where I felt that all my glorious planning about What To Do Next had done nothing but create a mountain of not-yet-started projects that, at times, felt insurmountable.

I felt a bit like that today.  Dealing with anything related to health insurance makes me want to jump off the Santa Monica bluffs on my next morning run, so I've been putting off looking at the big packet that recently came in the post containing everything I ever wanted to know, or not know, about COBRA.  For my dear Blog-Friends who may be reading this in Canada (or some other country lucky enough to have socialized medicine) and are super-confused about why I may be receiving poisonous snakes in the mail, COBRA stands for the Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconstruction Act.  Quite a mouthful, no?  Basically, it means that I can elect to pay the premium so that I can continue to have health insurance coverage.  So that if I were to, say, be bitten by a cobra I could actually go to the hospital for it.  Ain't America great?  However, I swear you have to have a doctoral degree to understand the minutiae of this literature they send to you.  But I think I have it figured out.  If I am summarizing the information correctly, it goes something like this:  pay us an obscene amount of money, and we'll try to do our best to make sure you don't die.  Or something like that.

So while I might dream at night of being bitten by venomous snakes and have moments of ambiguity during my days, for the most part this unemployment thing is pretty awesome.  That being the case, I find it amusing that when I tell people of my recent lay-off, the first thing they want to do is console me.  I'm not quite sure why this is, since usually my admission is complemented by a huge smile or a shout of "Yahoo!".  I don't need to be consoled.  I needed the consolation when I was employed.  THAT was dreadful.  This...this ain't so bad.

Go Happy,
Amy

Sweet Dreams...

Get Outta Here!

One of the things I have always lamented while employed is that I never had enough vacation time to really travel.  So, one would deduce that being unemployed would allow ample time for one to travel.  And one would be right!

For the last few years, Adam has made it a tradition to travel to an island for his birthday.  Recent trips have included England, Jamaica, Indonesia and Hawaii.  This year he has decided to continue this tradition, and I am excited to report that we are going somewhere far more Darwinian:

The Galapagos Islands!  We'll also be spending time on mainland Ecuador.  I suspect this is because a large part of our travel itinerary involves eating local cuisine, and Adam is especially anxious to sample the local Ecuadorian specialty:

Cuy!  Translation:  guinea pig.  Yes, I will be eating what in another country would be considered a household pet, but in Ecuador is a tasty, tasty lunch. 

To celebrate this upcoming island adventure, today I did my own little local "tour of the island".  Adam and I are down to one car since he's relinquished his Honda Accord to his 16 year old son.  Since so much of my day-to-day travel is now local, I decided it was time to give my bike a much-needed tune-up.  After perusing the reviews on Yelp, I settled on a great little bike shop in Santa Monica called Bicycle Ambulance, owned by a guy obviously from the Carribbean (but which island, I dunno, my ear isn't that good).  After dropping off my bike and discovering it wouldn't be ready until tomorrow, I arranged to meet Adam for lunch at Port Royal, a cute little cafe in Santa Monica that serves Jamaican food.

We had a delicious buffet lunch comprised of black beans, rice, hot wings, pepper chicken, cabbage, and other types of spicy meat I can't quite remember.  Adam is particularly excited because next Wednesday the buffet will include one his most favorite dishes:  curried goat.  When asked by the owner if I liked to eat curried goat, I replied "only when I'm out of the country".  And even then, like is a strong word for it.  But when travelling, I do endeavor to eat as the locals do, although I might draw the line at organ meats.  I don't want to get gout, after all.  :-)

Well, after a satisfying lunch and a long walk home, I'm ready for a nap. 

Oh, one more development to share:  I've just booked a gig on a reality tv show.  Details to come in future posts, but I can tell you I'm excited!

Go Happy,

Amy

Reality? Check.

A few observations since beginning my "funemployment":

1.  There are alot of people at the gym at 10:30am.  Who are these people?  What do they do?  Are they unemployed like me?  Do they have night jobs?  Are they trust fund babies? (Probably no on that last one - I go to Bally's, a distinctly low-budget gym).  Having been holed up in a windowless cubicle from 9am - 7pm for the last three years, I'm amazed that there are people out and about during the day.  Riding bikes.  Shopping.  Having coffee.  Hell, there is more traffic on Santa Moncia Blvd. at noon than at 9am.  How is this possible?  And why has it taken me so long to join this terrifically sunshiney world? 

2.  In the 13 years that I have had my cat, I often find hairballs at least once or twice a week.  I have never actually witnessed him doing it, however.  No longer.  Now that I'm home during the day, I got to see it first hand.  It's pretty impressive.  One second - nothing there.  Next second - giant sticky, smelly mess on the floor.  Like magic.  Like it came through a wormhole.  Wow. 

3.  I have the ability to waste an enormous amount of time on Facebook.  Thank you, ny friends, for being  endlessly fascinating.

4.  Daytime TV is depressing.  I'm sorry Rachel Ray, but I find you kind of grating.  And don't even get me started on Oprah or Dr. Phil.  I'd rather gouge out my eye with a rusty spike.

5.  When I don't know what to do, or I am avoiding doing what I should be doing, I clean.  My apartment is going to be fucking spotless within the week.

6.  If I don't get out of my apartment regularly, I'm going to gain 20 pounds in a matter of days.  Food is my elixir for boredom and stress.  And the yogurt place across the street is constantly calling my name.

Still trying to sort this new reality out, but I'm definitely in it.

Go Happy,
Amy