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So Hawaii Was Fun

People like to give me a hard time for my work travel; usually, it’s a fully packed shoot that literally has you on your feet from 3am to 7pm, raking sand on the beach or moving hundreds of chairs, waiting for sun to hit just the right position, lugging equipment around, and politely asking people to “move aside” or “sign this talent release.” It’s a lot of, “You are my HERO!” and “Oh my gosh, this is the best news I’ve heard all day; thank you SO MUCH for everything; seriously, you are a savior.”

As the account person, I’m ultimately responsible for making sure the shoot is a success from a logistics standpoint, no matter how many challenges we run into, and ensuring as few people as possible are pissed off in the process.

The other reason for my business trips center around strategy meetings and client presentations, which means we’re periodically at exotic locations, but spend maybe an hour or so on an actual beach – the view is typically the inside of a conference room.

Don’t get me wrong for a second: I am supremely fortunate to travel to exotic locales like Aruba and Hawaii; even Florida and New York, and the accommodations (as you might suspect) are second-to-none. I eat resort food and experience resort amenities, and am treated well by clients. Travel is one of my favorite things to do, but it does get old defending to people that it’s hard freaking work traveling for business, especially shoots: I’m not going on vacation. I’ve never had a business trip that didn’t really feel like work.

With that said, my trip to Hawaii last week was one of my best work travel experiences ever. The shoot was one of the most insanely packed that I’ve ever been on, and required a lot of organization. At times, it felt like a complete comedy of errors, like the entire island of Maui was against us filming. But at the same time, I hit every single breathtaking tourist activity available in a span of 3 days, had some awesome beers at a local brewery with my kickass client, and had a couple days to just chill and do whatever. That, I can’t defend, but I can be grateful for. Life is good.

Here’s the run-down:

DAY 1

  • Day 1 – arrive at 8pm after traveling 18 hours
  • Day 1, 9pm – dead asleep. Dead. Asleep.

 

DAY 2

  • Day 2, 7am – unsure, how I slept this long, I wander out for my first “day off.” I came in early to take advantage of the fun at the resort, so I hung out and watched the sun rise over the infinity pool, and investigated surfing lessons (which you’ve already seen blogged about).
Sunrise at the infinity pool
Sunrise at the infinity pool
  • Day 2, 10am – 2 hours of surfing fun, followed by a 3.5-mile walk back to the resort (in which I inexplicably decided to also buy and lug a bottle of wine back with me).
  • Day 2, 2pm – enjoyed a Mai Tai and lunch at the resort, looking out at the whales while I sat by the pool (I know, I hate me, too).
Mai Tai
Mai Tai
  • Day 2, 5pm – check out the happy hour at Migrant, the restaurant at the resort with fun Asian-inspired noodle bowls and half-priced drinks. Score!
  • Day 2, 8pm – excitedly greet my gentlemen coworkers who were arriving for the shoot, discuss work for the following day (a scout day).

 

DAY 3

  • Day 3, 8am – awake to meet Dave and John, our creative folks, and discover the day was quite literally a wash. Rain everywhere. We scout as best we can and then accept some level of defeat and head to the pool bar for lunch and the Superbowl (which was at 1:30 Hawaii time!).
  • Day 3, 1:45pm – I embarrass myself on multiple occasions by asking horrendously infantile questions about the nature of football. I profess that I am rooting for the Seahawks because when push comes to shove, I imagine a real flock of Seahawks being able to take down a Patriot. I leave to go do some work in my room.
  • Day 3, 4pm – we meet up with Jenn, a local yoga instructor who hosts classes on property. She instantly strips to her bra and says, “Oops, this is how I roll here, sorry.” No apologies necessary. We shoot her in some beautiful poses at sunset.
Yoga at sunset
Yoga at sunset

This is also Dave’s first opportunity to break out Beaker, our latest drone, on this trip. Between this and the hot, shirtless yoga girl, he is no doubt in nerd heaven.

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  • Dave 3, 7pm – we grab a few drinks and some food at Mala, the resort’s other restaurant, and book it to bed. We’ve got an early morning.

 

DAY 4

  • Day 4, 6am – we’ve booked what’s sure to be a blast of a cruise: breakfast, lunch, open bar, snorkeling, whale watching, and turtle sightings. We’ll knock out 3 shots before noon, and have some fun in the process. But wait! The stars haven’t aligned in our favor: half an hour before we depart, I get a call that the charter has been cancelled due to a mechanical issue on the boat. Quickly, I scramble to re-book us on another whale charter that’s less inclusive but promises we’ll be able to film the whales with our drone. We’re set for the 8am charter.
  • Day 4, 8am – we board the boat and are instantly told we can’t use the drone after all. Boo, hiss. We capture what we can, but I have to say – that experience is completely unforgettable.
Whale Tail
Whale Tail
  • Day 4, 10am – no taxis around, so I request an Uber. After waiting 10 minutes, I call the driver and his wife answers the phone. He’s at home and forgot his Uber app was running. Welcome to our first of many experiences of “island culture.” We would be his inaugural Uber trip. Massimo, the driver, runs to his car and gets us so we could attempt some snorkeling shots. While we wait, we buy snorkeling equipment but neglect to get shoes. We also text our yoga girl Jenn to ask where we should go to snorkel – Oluwalu. Done.
  • Day 4, 10:30am – I pump up the team with some insane Phil Collins jams while we ride in Massimo’s truck to Oluwalu Beach. We arrive and Massimo offers to pick us up in 2 hours – he has no cell phone.  We proceed to try some drone footage (too windy) and hunt for fish in the wavy waters (too wavy). John and I borrow water shoes from an older couple, who tell us we were nuts not to have them. We leave with essentially nothing, totally disappointed. The weather is not on our side so far. Fortunately, Massimo had inexplicably been waiting for us in the parking lot the whole time. The first sign that the tides are turning!
  • Day 4, 1pm – we eat at the pool bar and I get a text that our model for the spa shot, scheduled for 2pm with the spa staff, has fallen through. She would have been our “naked back” getting massaged. I began to pump myself up for the idea that this back model could end up being me, despite my being somewhat chunky, extremely pale, and possessing a back tattoo. Yes, this could go poorly.
  • Day 4, 2pm – A model comes through! A lovely sales girl stepped up to the plate and makes a beautiful model. Meanwhile, we send John by himself to GoPro some snorkeling near property, completely unconfident he’ll get anything. By a miracle… he does. Several turtles. Two shots knocked out at once. We were cooking with gas.
  • Day 4, sunset – we head to the Luau at night and immediately grabb a few Mai Tais and settle in. The Luau is spectacular: a guy cracking coconuts, Hawaiian bowling, a wood carver, Hawaiian dancing and singing – the whole gamut. There is a pig roast and buffet; everything you’d imagine. We get great footage… and got lei’d in the process!

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  • Day 4, 10pm – Rich, our media guy, arrives and brings a van with him. No more relying on infrequent Uber rides for us!
  • Day 4, 11pm – I secure a bike rental for our trek the next day to Haleakala volcano.

 

DAY 5

  • Day 5, 3:30am – Dave, John, and I meet in the lobby and begin our 2 hour trek to the summit of Haleakala Volcano – an inactive volcano 10k feet in the air, with breathtaking views above the clouds. Dave and I are gripping our seats because John, ever the creative guy, is busy admiring the views while he is driving. The trip’s mantra becomes, “Eyes on the road!” But we did get there in one piece.
  • Day 5, 6am – I have never been colder in my entire life. 95 MPH winds whip us around at the top of the summit, and we skiddadle up a rickety flight of stairs to enter an unheated room to watch the sunrise. I rudely request that people move aside so we can wedge a camera at the best angle, and fortunately, they oblige. What proceeded was some of the most incredible beauty I’ve ever witnessed in person: it’s exactly how you would expect heaven to look. Here are a few shots from the car, just after the sun rose and appeared to set the clouds slowly on fire.

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We get biking footage on the way down, which includes the guys wearing protective skirt-blankets around them and me angrily riding back and forth down the mountain. Could be better, but could be worse. At least we’re in paradise.

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  • Day 5, midday – we head to Paia, a cute little town near the North Shore, and have brunch. We’re all super hungry and Dave orders the largest pancake I’ve ever seen – easily taking over his entire plate.
  • Day 5, afternoon – we drive on to Ho’Okipa Beach to try and catch some surfing action. There are some great surfers we caught on film, and I busy myself doing the challenging and tragic work of talking to some of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen IRL about whether they’d be open to strapping a GoPro to their boards. Most of them were willing but exiting the water on their way to work – I guess that’s what I get for approaching them at the outdoor shower. Que sera, though – I mean, could be worse.
  • Day 5, afternoon – we pick up Rich somewhere along the beach and all head to a random opening on the side of the road that leads to an unmarked bamboo forest. The journey begins easily enough, but seems like it may be a little dangerous. When Jenn the yoga teacher arrives to take us further in, we all become a bit apprehensive about the whole thing.
    • “This is the easiest way, just take off your shoes,” she encourages, barefoot; her 100-pound frame carrying a 40-pound backpack. She then leads us through some of the roughest rocky area, sometimes waist-deep in water, to a waterfall.
    • “This isn’t a great waterfall,” she says. “There are 5 more up ahead. Let’s just scale this.”
    • She points to a slippery, rocky edifice about 13 feet high, with a knotted, aging rope leaning against it. I look at the rope, then at Dave’s camera. Dave’s camera, then back to the rope. This seems ill-advised.
  • Day 5, late afternoon – we film Jenn on the paddleboard doing yoga at the original waterfall, while watching the beautiful water. The surroundings are exquisite – like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Truly breathtaking.

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Despite the danger, Dave leaves his camera back at the car and we end up scaling the crazy-ass rock wall anyway – we’re all curious about what’s up ahead. Turns out to be a beautiful additional waterfall with a large open water area, perfect for swimming. I’d share a pic here but my phone unfortunately died somewhere along the way.

  • Day 5, evening – we head back to the resort and catch some dinner off-property at a nearby bar. The conversation devolves into its usual vitriol that you’d expect amongst 3 guys and, well, me.

 

DAY 6

  • Day 6, morning – Dave catches a few more drone shots with Beaker, and as he and John depart for the airport, Rich and I give our client presentation and take our client out to lunch at a brewery (client’s recommendation). Can’t tell you how much I like this guy already.
  • Day 6, late afternoon – the day is ours to enjoy. So naturally, we drink. I mean, we’re agency people… not sure what you expected, here. We shut the bar down at 10pm (crazy party animals) and head to bed preparing for an open day of fun the following day!

 

DAY 7

  • Day 7, 8am – Rich wants to work. Lame. We work for a while and then I decide to go to the pool as we edge toward noon. The last few days have been packed and I’m done; fully roasted.
  • Day 7, afternoon – lunch at the pool bar and then body surfing and a snorkeling attempt at the nearby beach. We ignored this sign and took our chances.

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  • Day 7, later afternoon – we check out and go back to Haleakala, since Rich hasn’t seen it and we have a million hours to kill before we hit our flight back at 11:30pm. It ends up being kind of a bust because the weather has beat us there: no view at the top, but some nice views on the way down.
P.S. Rich hates you.
P.S. Rich hates you.

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  • The ride is beautiful, but no amount of car games can entertain us long enough not to get bored after 12 hours together. Sorry, Rich, you can only rely on my sparkling wit and unmatchable charm for so long. In the meantime, we buy souvenirs, eat dinner (AWESOME fresh fish), and drink at the airport (because why not?).
  • Day 7, 12:40am – we finally board our first flight back. We both wish we could stay longer but are also missing home. And, if we can get through the rest of this trip without punching someone (or each other) in the face, it will be a win. I love that guy but zero sleep always equals angry Alexis, which means an easy jump to straight violence.

And here ends the fascinating recap of my Hawaii trip – one of the best biz trips I’ve had. Most of them aren’t quite this action-packed, and although it was exhausting, it was soooo worth it. Until next time, Hawaii… aloha, and mahalo!

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Classic Recap, Part II

Anna Karenina was a hike to get through: 800+ pages of heavy reading, deep plot structures, and lots o’ Russian names. But honestly, it was a phenomenal read. The parallels you can draw between current romantic relationships (under the guise of societal structures), religious struggles, and even modern-day politics are striking, even though the book was written centuries ago in Russia. Relationships are tested and, interestingly, the decisions of women play a key role in the movement of the plotlines; something fairly unheard-of at the time. It was as if Tolstoy was one of the first to recognize the value of women’s emotions when it came to relationships, even though that struggle was clearly a reality at the time.

Summary: Work is hard. Romance is fluid. Suffering is inevitable. But at the end of the day, life can be truly beautiful.

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Surf’s Up

It’s hard to complain about my job sometimes. I’m sitting in a beautiful hotel room in Maui, drying off from a morning at the beach. And it feels like 7pm but it’s only 2 here – I’ve got the whole day open.

Let me back up – I’m here on business (a video shoot and a presentation). But I figured this trip would be a perfect multi-tasking opportunity to knock out another Bucket List item, so I arrived a day early to make this a Bleisure trip. (This is a real term. I promise.)

There aren’t a lot of opportunities to surf near Atlanta, as you might suspect. Hawaii is known for its surfing, and once again, I’m proud to have made this 30 Before 30 list because I’m not sure I would have gone to the effort of a surf lesson otherwise. I’m here by myself (until my coworkers arrive), I needed to go off-property to surf, and I’m not exactly a fish in the water. Unless you count dead fish, because I’m great at floating.

But I wandered down to the concierge at 8am and he set up a cab (with Happy Jack’s Butterfly cab service, no less–butterflies all over the ceiling) and booking with Maui Wave Riders for 10am. Shortly, I was on my way.

I won’t say surfing was easy, but I did manage to catch some waves. Naturally, as the dud of the group (it was me and a family of 4 New Zealanders), I was given a paddleboard when I failed to even balance on my knees on the first go. But boy, was I good at paddleboard surfing. The instructor high-fived me regularly and suggested I go pro. Unfortunately, the confidence was short-lived, because as soon as I was given the privilege of a real surfboard again, the wipeouts continued (see proof below). But truth be told, I had a blast the whole time, and was proud to ride some “real surfboard” waves toward the end. Not bad for a 2-hour lesson.

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 surfin usa maui

After the lesson, I wandered down the road back to the Marriott, stopping for local coffee recommended to me by my first cab driver from the night before–pretty good stuff. It was about a 3 mile, leisurely (beisurely?) walk back to the hotel, and so calming and peaceful. Not half bad for another item checked off the list – and I’m so proud of myself for tackling something I was afraid to try. Surf’s up, dudes!

 

Oh, and P.S…..

I ran a freaking 15k the other day! Who am I?!!!

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PHYSICAL AND MENTAL HEALTH

30. Climb a mountain.

29. Run a 10k.

28. Nail a handstand in yoga.

27. Get spiritual.

EDUCATION

26. Learn a language.

25. Master a skill.

24. Read some books that actually mean something.

23. Develop some knowledge about cars.

TRAVEL

22. Visit Thailand.

21. Take a trip with my Dad.

20. See a Wonder of the World.

19. Take a cross-country road trip with Brandon.

LIFE CHANGES

18. Volunteer regularly somewhere for at least 6 months.

17. Turn off the T.V. for a week.

16. Finish my book.

MONEY MATTERS

15. Invest in 5 diversified stocks.

14. Build retirement fund.

13. Own a second home.

EVOLVE MY RELATIONSHIPS

12. Get closer with my sister.

11. Go on a walk at least once a week with Brandon.

10. Try something more sexually adventurous than usual.

9. Be a good in-law.

8. Send a real letter to a friend every month for a year.

TEST MY LIMITS

7. Zip line.

6. Participate in a big cultural event like a music festival or Oktoberfest.

5. Swim with a shark. Or at least sting rays.

4. Learn to surf. Or at least try.

3. Be personally responsible for winning a big piece of business.

2. Perform in a play or musical.

PERSONAL SATISFACTION

1. Learn to be happy just as I am.

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Shared Secrets with BuzzFeed and Ze Frank

Ze Frank was a pioneer of vlogs, but that simplistic statement probably trivializes his contributions to American culture. Ze wasn’t just a YouTube celebrity, he was an icon for the then-new frontier of viral content.

I was an early fan, from his days in the early-2000s of his “How To Dance Properly” ecard, and evolving into one of many fans who were active participants in his year-long vlog experiment “The Show.” For Ze, there was no fourth wall, no distinction between the vlogger and his audience. Humans were on earth to create shared experiences, and the Internet was merely his medium.

When I found out in recent years that Ze was one of the folks at the helm of BuzzFeed Video, everything clicked. BuzzFeed has created a viral culture full of content about those shared experiences, but more than experiences, the videos are shared secrets. The hybrid of the two opposing worlds of PostSecret (anonymous confessions) and Facebook (your perfected public persona), BuzzFeed highlights, if often trivial, moments of each of our lives that we never considered others shared.

There’s nothing necessarily culturally significant about BuzzFeed Video’s content, and most wouldn’t consider it high art. But what it does do is create another art form somewhere in the middle of private and public, reminding the Facebook generation that it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Everyone scratches their privates, everyone does weird things around their crushes, and everyone wonders if they’re the crazy friend of the group.

 

The simplicity of this approach is its appeal: let’s rub the shine off the perfect world we’re all intimidated by; this make-believe universe full of engagements and no divorces, hires and no fires, births and no deaths. BuzzFeed’s light portrayal that “we’re all human” is exactly what I’ve always loved about Ze Frank – and I’m glad he’s living in his element, and still bringing joy to the masses. Perhaps in a small way, although BuzzFeed and all of its counterparts (from blogs to vlogs and all in between) strive primarily to create content that generates ad views, it’s also giving us a much-needed breath of fresh air in our pristine Pinterest world. And that, my friends, is pure Ze.

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The Changing of the Hedwigs

The snow is falling gently, almost so gently that I’m unsure if I’m imagining it. I hold out my tongue to catch a flake, remembering the old adages about snowflakes being cradled with germs, especially in the cesspool that is NYC. I swallow it anyway. I welcome the burn.

Let me be clear: I am already covered in tomato juice, pulled from the sweaty chest of John Cameron Mitchell. My new shirt is dripping with a chilly water stain, a spit mark from earlier in the evening, and I am glowing from the inside out. I have been Christened by a master.

I am an undeniable nerd; an unabashed freak. I love the underbelly of humanity; the trod-upon and the brokenhearted. Earlier in my trek back to the city, I found myself at 2am in a piano bar, alone and yet surrounded by friends: transgendered pioneers trudging through showtunes along with me; a cancer survivor with vertigo who called herself a “regular;” two college girls who spent their weekends singing “Hello Dolly” instead of at nightclubs. We are freaks.

The freak factor is welcome at Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and its warm welcome to Broadway was unexpected. Who is this German woman with Coke bottle blonde curls and glitter beyond her eyebrows? Why do so many find their own humanity in the least likely place, at the Belasco Theatre, rocked in the arms of a genderless diva and ignored rock icon?

This type of theater worship is not unfamiliar to me: I am a fangirl. Perhaps this admission is more worth admonishing than my love for Hedwig. I stagedoored Spring Awakening more times than I can count; I’m on my 97th Broadway show. I tracked the stars of Hair as though they were featured in OK Magazine; curious less about their dating habits than I was about their next theatrical moves. There’s something magical about greeting someone outside of the stage door, where you’re both relative equals. There’s no other medium that allows this one-to-one experience, capped with an autographed Playbill and (if you’re lucky) a picture.

Since my fangirl height, I grew, and grew up. I watched my idols move to LA, become dance teachers, or grow into Broadway stars in their own right. Yet Hedwig always remained heavy on my mind; a memory of the movie, of the days before I moved to New York; a freak like me who was “internationally ignored” and confused as to why. She was selfish and yet abused; she was a seeker, hurt by her own desire to find love. She sought crowd worship but also threw herself at the feet of the undeserving. And I loved her all the more for it.

I heard Neil Patrick Harris would step into Hedwig’s heels when it opened on Broadway in 2014, and I was delighted. I had never watched his shows nor been a particular fan, but I knew what this would mean: Neil The Celebrity would bring credibility to my girl Hedwig; he would unfreak the freak for the masses, and as much as I struggled with Hedwig’s newfound fame, he did her true; he did her well. Neil brought Hedwig to life and made her an unlikely star.

I missed Andrew Rannells’ short run in the role of Hedwig, replacing Neil, a regret I’ll have to live with. However, I made the move this January to see the “changing of the Hedwigs,” as I dubbed it: Michael C. Hall’s last performance, followed by John Cameron Mitchell’s first performance back in the role he originated. And although I saw the same show, watched the same dances, and heard the same songs, I had entirely unique experiences.

Michael C. Hall brought less grace, less femininity, to the role—but somehow made the story truest. The moments that were unclear up until that point were suddenly crystal: the moment toward the end when identities are exchanged; the lead-ins encouraging a connection between Hedwig and her “other half” Tommy Gnosis: he thought the character through to the depths of her soul. He was always a true Hedwig, putting on a stage show for the rest of us. Hedwig, for him, was a tragic character wearing the mask of a performer. It was beautiful.

But John Cameron Mitchell was the master. As Hedwig, he improvised like no other, carried the performance element to the hilt, and reminded the audience that he created the uncreatable. His Hedwig was tragic and beautiful, but had the best comedic timing imaginable, fully aware she was performing for her fans. She floated into moments of tragedy but brought herself back with a quick-witted comeback or an audience-infused French kiss. John Cameron Mitchell’s Hedwig is always the wig-headed performer first, a trait born of a desire to be loved, and only offers suppressed peeks into her peppered, mournful past. She is there on her own terms. And this is the Hedwig I loved most.

Making an appearance at curtain call was Steven Trask, the master behind some of the most beautiful lyrics in Broadway history. I wanted to melt myself into his body, absorb some of his beautiful soulfulness and at least tell him how much his make-believe world meant to me. But I think he could feel it. We were all standing on our feet, cheering and crying together. We were amongst fellow freaks.

And I close with some of my favorite lyrics from the show; I hope you enjoy them as much as I do. Hedwig, I’ll see you again soon.

 

The last time I saw you

We’d just split in two

You was lookin’ at me

I was lookin’ at you

You had a way so familiar

That I could not recognize

‘Cause you had blood in your face

And I had blood in my eyes

But I could swear by your expression

That the pain down in your soul

Was the same as the one down in mine

 

——– 

 

Forgive me, for I did not know

‘Cause I was just a boy and you were so much more

Than any god could ever plan

More than a woman or a man

And now I understand how much I took from you

When everything starts breaking down

You take the pieces off the ground

And show this wicked town something beautiful and new

And if you’ve got no other choice

You know you can follow my voice

Through the dark turns and noise of this wicked little town

It’s a wicked little town

Goodbye wicked little town

 

 ————

 

I was born on the other side

Of a town ripped in two

I made it over the great divide

And now I’m comin’ for you

Enemies and adversaries

Try and tear me down

You want me baby, I dare you

Try and tear me down

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One More Down

I completed TV Turnoff Week, and Monday was definitely the hardest night. It felt like a detox, but I found ways of dealing that weren’t so bad.

Tuesday and Wednesday, I distracted myself with dinners out with friends and coworkers, including an evening full of Cards Against Humanity with our departing intern Lauren and most of the work team.

Otherwise, the weekend was the next largest hurdle, but I realized by the time it arrived that I’d already found other ways to occupy myself. I was sick all day Saturday and gave myself permission to watch a little TV – but as soon as I turned it on, there was nothing I was interested in watching. I realized I’d rather spend my time reading a book.

I took a break from Anna Karennina in favor of something a little fluffier, although dark: Dark Places by Gillian Flynn. It was like indulging in a Jolly Rancher after eating a steady diet of veggies for a while: something that had once seemed like a chore now felt like an indulgence, and I wasn’t missing the boob tube.

I also found other ways of occupying myself: brunching with friends, organizing pictures for my grandmother, and doing an Improv Everywhere stunt with Brandon that involved going pants-less on the subway. There are worse ways to spend a weekend – and far less memorable ones.

With that said, enjoy the fruits of my TV Turnoff Week labor – full of fun, and lots of regrettable pictures.

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TV Turnoff Week – Day 1

I have a feeling I’m going to be blogging more this week than normal. Why? Because I’m Bored. As. Hell.

I knew off the bat that I’d have trouble turning the TV off for (a mere) 7 days, but rounding down on night 1, I’m already out of things to do. My idea to combine TV Turnoff Week with “Let’s Read Some Classics” has backfired, and my brain is fried, filled with (ugh) complex thoughts. It needs some Shark Tank to defuse it.

Although, I have to say, tonight has taught me a few things:

  • I’m much more productive when I’m restricted from TV.
  • I eat less when I’m not watching TV.
  • More chores get done when I’m not watching TV.
  • I am really sad without my TV.

I’m going to insinuate here that TV is apparently a bit of an addiction for me, since not only have I thought about it constantly since coming home, I’ve spoken with our dog Alice about it.

“Alice, I know what you’re thinking,” I said. She cocked her head. “But we agreed: absolutely no TV.” She cocked her head the other direction. “No TV and no pizza.”

This was simply my way of torturing her, as she loves pizza. We wonder why she has anxiety issues.

What have I done with the last 4 hours?

  • Ate dinner, slowly and deliberately.
  • Attempted to learn and record a song on both guitar and piano. Verdict: Fail.
  • Had a (large) glass of wine.
  • Taken a bath.
  • Read 75 pages of Anna Karenina. Hi, that sucker is 800 freaking pages. I’m going to throw myself a Russian tea party when it’s complete. (Although I have to admit, I’m really loving it. Brandon called it “800 pages, but a quick 800 pages,” and although that sounded completely ludicrous at the time, he was right.)
  • Checked Facebook and email five times.
  • Uploaded my picture onto a makeover site and made myself look like the Dragon lady from Game of Thrones (see below). I am actually considering going blonde, but I’m certain this specific look would be ill-advised.

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I need to find something to keep myself occupied tomorrow night, or I may break. Wish me luck. Of all the things I’ve done on this godforsaken list, is TV going to be the one to sink me?!

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Classic Recap, Part I

As part of my venture to improve myself and experience new things before turning 30, I’ve been embarking on a journey to read more “books that mean something.” I interpret this as classics, books that involve learning something, and nonfiction. I realize that’s fairly broad, but I’m not a huge reader normally, and my repertoire normally stops at standard chick lit.

So with that said, I’ve taken advantage of the holiday break to read a few books. One was Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn, which I won’t recap here because although it’s a step up from chick lit, it’s not exactly classic literature. But as I read more that fit my self-made mold, I’ll give you my own layman’s Cliff’s Notes on this blog so you can follow along.

 

Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

Lady in provincial 19th-century France marries kind of a moron, who is devoted to her. She spends the book gallivanting around, flirting her way into loans in her husband’s name, sleeping with other men, pawning her daughter off on various servants, and, ultimately (spoiler alert) finding her demise in the most predictably dramatic way. She is the definition of “bored housewife syndrome,” forever entrapped in a world of her own fantasy and depression. Flaubert comically and satirically captures his feelings of the middle class and its women who, frankly, need to get lives.

Summary: Ho be bored. Get a life, ho.

 

Wise Blood by Flannery O’Connor

Brandon recommended this short (120 page) book to me because it seemed “up my alley.” What he meant by that, I’m unsure, because it’s insanely weird and seems to lack a plot. Nutshell, there’s a lot of people for and against Jesus, someone attempts to blind himself and can’t make it happen, another guy succeeds at blinding himself, there’s a fair bit of historical racism, there’s a 15-year-old slut who seems to have no adult guidance, any woman in the book seems hellbent on aggressively seducing highly unattractive and uninterested men, and there are quite a few scenes involving an ape costume. Unclear on the conclusions and on the relevance of the ape costume.

Summary: Call me controversial, but don’t read books by people suffering from Lupus, unless you’re also interested in a total mind fuck.

 

More to come.

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10K, Over and Out

I did it! I wasn’t sure I’d be able to from “barely able to run a mile without stopping” to finishing a 10k, but I did. I was pretty (re: very) slow and there were lots of hills, but I made it. And it actually made me want to do another.

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I ran Monday Night Brewing’s Westside 10k, partially because the timing worked and partially because there was a 2-beer incentive at the finish line.

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It began with some nervous energy when I realized I was surrounded by runners – like, people who really run. I’ve been running for the last couple of years, but I’m not a runner. I’m just proud that my joints don’t get sore and I don’t want to die after a few minutes. To me, that’s success. I’m never grazing a 7-minute mile.

But here I was, surrounded by the Lululemon League, taking off spritely and passing me with ease. I realized at some point during the race that I was being passed by extremely fit people: how had I been ahead of them to begin with? I shortly realized they were in the 10 mile race and had already lapped me by 4 miles. Nice.

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Another tip from the road: don’t start the morning with a slice of pizza and half a Diet Coke. Unless you enjoy pooping yourself along the way. This should have been self-evident, I realize, but my dumb morning-brain seemed to think a little carb and caffeine snack would really get me going at 6am.

The big thing I’d tell you if you’re running your first race of any kind would be to focus on the finish line – not your time. I’m slow; I may (re: will) always be slow, but I’ve made enormous progress with my running, so I’m cool with it. There will always be people who pass you, but as long as you’re competing with yourself, you’ll come out successful and inspired. And ready for a beer.

So where does that leave me with my bucket list? Let’s recap.

PHYSICAL AND MENTAL HEALTH

30. Climb a mountain.

29. Run a 10k.

28. Nail a handstand in yoga.

27. Get spiritual.

EDUCATION

26. Learn a language.

25. Master a skill.

24. Read some books that actually mean something.

23. Develop some knowledge about cars.

TRAVEL

22. Visit Thailand.

21. Take a trip with my Dad.

20. See a Wonder of the World.

19. Take a cross-country road trip with Brandon.

LIFE CHANGES

18. Volunteer regularly somewhere for at least 6 months.

17. Turn off the T.V. for a week.

16. Finish my book.

(Yeah, buddy – I did this!)

MONEY MATTERS

15. Invest in 5 diversified stocks.

14. Build retirement fund.

13. Own a second home.

EVOLVE MY RELATIONSHIPS

12. Get closer with my sister.

11. Go on a walk at least once a week with Brandon.

10. Try something more sexually adventurous than usual.

9. Be a good in-law.

8. Send a real letter to a friend every month for a year.

TEST MY LIMITS

7. Zip line.

6. Participate in a big cultural event like a music festival or Oktoberfest.

5. Swim with a shark. Or at least sting rays.

4. Learn to surf. Or at least try.

3. Be personally responsible for winning a big piece of business.

2. Perform in a play or musical.

PERSONAL SATISFACTION

1. Learn to be happy just as I am.

10 down, 20 to go! I think I might make it after all.

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Progress Report

It’s been a while since I posted, and I guess you could say it’s because I’ve been busy. Did I run my 10k in March? No, I chickened out. I still run, not as much as I used to, but the last couple of years is the most consistently active I’ve ever been (except maybe when I lived in NY), so I’m proud of that. It helps having a little dog friend, Alice, who would be truly devastated if we didn’t get out and run together a couple of times a week.

I did nail a handstand in yoga – I’m officially calling it. Whether I could do one nowadays is debatable, but for a solid couple of months, I could intentionally get into a handstand and stick it, unsupported. I was depressed to discover how much ab strength it actually took – something that seemed like simple fun when I was a kid turned out to be real work. Isn’t that always how it goes?

28. Nail a handstand in yoga.

I learned a language. I’m okay counting it because I really devoted myself to a Spanish II class. Could I speak to you fluently? No, I’m afraid not. But I got out of my comfort zone and re-familiarized myself with the grammar and vocabulary, and it helped me get around Ecuador. Dad spoke the language better than I did, but I picked up on more of the contextual side of conversations – and I was pretty pleased.

26. Learn a language.

Which all leads me to another accomplishment: 21. Take a trip with my Dad. I took Dad to Cuenca, Ecuador in May, and it was overall a great experience. We got to know the people and culture, saw some beautiful sights, and spent some real quality time together. We even ate guinea pig! (Sorry, PETA.) Check out some pictures from the trip:

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That’s where things stand so far. Pain points include:

  • I haven’t read anything substantial yet. Yep, in a whole year.
  • I can’t bring myself to turn off the television – for a mere week. Hello!
  • Brandon and I need to take more walks together. I can’t wait until he’s done freelancing!
  • I am 2 letters backlogged on notes to friends. Does it count instead that I’m going to 5 weddings this year? (Answer: No)

But I’m not doing too shabbily, and I’m having fun aiming for some goals. Ironically, cramming an entire life in before turning 30 is keeping me young – and I guess that’s the way to live life all the time. Side, closing thought: A new goal has become reaching 100 Broadway shows – that’s not a bucket list item, but I’m pretty close now at 94, so I’m excited to celebrate my 100. Man, I miss that industry – my first true love.