70 Days: The whirlwind brought me to Ojai

I am in paradise.  I’m not kidding.  It’s hard to believe.

Ojai is a town about 90 miles north and a bit west of LA.  It’s about 30 miles from Santa Barbara and 13 north of Ventura, if that gives you an idea.  I’m not one for California geography.  This is perhaps the fourth or fifth time I’ve ever been in the state, and the only time not in a big city. Ojai is not on the coast.  It’s a beautiful sun-dappled valley full of lush orange groves and vineyards and ranches surrounded by mountains.  They filmed a movie about Shangri-la here.  It’s that beautiful.  I’m pinching myself.

I’m in Ojai for the wedding of a dear friend, and I’m so incredibly tickled that I am here.  I love weddings.  In this crazy chaotic war-stricken stressful world, the thought of celebrating love, just for the sake of it, makes the tears well up in my eyes.  And it’s Ojai.  So beautiful, I don’t know what I did to deserve coming here.  Sounds funny to think of it that way.  How much fun will it be to spend the weekend here, going to funky little shops, hiking in the mountains, seeing old friends, and of course, getting all gussied up in my very best formalwear for a great celebration.

It sucks that there is a downside.  No, no, there isn’t.  But there always is.  Perhaps if I write about my stinking awful side here, I can get over it and just get on with enjoying myself.  Or at least trying to.

Are you ever NOT able to enjoy yourself because you know that the situation you are in is temporary?  Or perhaps you’re the kind of person who enjoys yourself more BECAUSE a situation is temporary.  Vacations.  You go away for a week.  It’s like, 3 -2 -1 – GO!  Have fun, NOW!  Because you have to go back to your ordinariness and troubles and stress sooner than you think.  When I arrived, my jaw dropped.  It is so beautiful here.  And a very kind women, a friend of the bride’s family, offered her guest house to guests of the wedding coming from far away.  And it’s the most lovely little house you can picture.  Stone walls, high wooden beamed ceilings, perfect elegant decor, large windows, large patios all around the house, a screened in porch which acts as a second living room…it’s hardly a guest house…it’s just a gorgeous little two-bedroom house beside a much larger house.  It even has a large kitchen, a set of scrabble, and lots of cold beer and tea (which I’ll be replacing, of course, if I use).  Part of me was so thrilled, so awe-struck, not just of the beauty and elegance of this house I have been given to enjoy for the weekend, but also of the generosity of such people who would freely give this gift to a stranger.  Then my mind (and perhaps my paranoia) kicked in with thoughts of, “how can I best take advantage of this?” and “how can a thank my hosts and adequately show them my gratitude?” and “ya right, I’m not going to enjoy myself, knowing I only have 2-3 days here…it’s like being shown a glimpse of paradise and then having it whisked away…”

See, I’m not as gracious as people think.  I fear that I must appear ungrateful.   Being here, I feel that this is a place I would really like to spend a lot of time.  This place is very close to the picture I have had in my head for years of what my living heaven on earth would be:

Rural, yet somehow cultured.  Ojai has festivals, a playwrights’ theater, music concerts, and much more.

Rural, yet close enough to civilization, and good civilization at that (think an hour and a bit outside of Paris or Rome).  LA is not a European cultural mecca…but it is exciting in its way and large and important.

A modest home.  Yes, modest.  And perhaps even the chance to build it (or design it, or have it built for me with my input, etc).  See, I don’t care about being wealthy.  I just don’t want to worry about money all the time.  I don’t want more than I need.  Because the second I do have a bit of cash, even these days, I give it away to my alma mater or charities or arts organizations.

A garden. Veggies.  Herbs.  Color.  I want English roses and just fields of basil.

A beautiful warm kitchen in the center of the home.

Simple, elegant, comfortable decor.

Books.  Lots of books.

A perfect office. With a perfect armchair.

Warmth.  Kindness.  Generosity.

That’s what I want.  I want an office where I can be productive, write my novels and philosophical treatises and cookbooks and travel guides and somehow get paid to do it.  And a home where I feel safe and free and where I can make others feel safe and free and loved.  That’s it.  And yes, Ojai is a picture postcard.  And it is the haven of second homes of the rich and famous.  And I’ll probably never live here.  But it’s so nice to see it and experience it.  And also quite devastating.  Will I ever achieve even a fraction of that picture that hangs by a thread on the walls of my psyche?

76 Days: Crazy ideas for next year

Cruise Ship Art Auction

Am I running away from doing the healthy grownup things that I need like finding a partner, fulfilling my ability and dream to be a published novelist and chef, and building a beautiful safe home?  Or am I fun-loving, smart-minded, creative adventure nut, set on seeing the world, expanding my knowledge, and making a decent buck while I’m at it?  You decide.  Let me know.  Honestly.  Here are things I am seriously considering doing (aka jobs I have/will be/am considering applying for):

1. Cruise ship art auctioneer.  Yup, I’m serious.  Yes, I don’t adore vacationing on a cruise, but selling art, something I know just heaps and heaps about, and getting a salary, and making commission, and getting to visit dozens of new countries…why not?
2. English teacher in China and/or Japan.  We’ve all been there.  Considering this decision.  Well, at least among people I know, we’ve all known people to go down this path.  I’m a bit old for it.  But my qualifications have gone up.  And it’s a better salary than I can find here in Israel.  AND it would be in China or Japan!  Places I’m desperate to visit!  And are expensive to visit.  So…why not get paid to go…?  And get to save up a decent salary while I’m at it… I thought of this today because one of my closest friends is going to China for a year, and he’s made me promise I’m going to visit him.  So, I either shell out for a trip for a couple weeks to a month (if I can spare the time…I’ll be in job searching mode when I get back from the States in a month), or maybe go for 6 months (I hear it’s possible to go for less than a year) and earn something, plus get to see my friend.



3. A Really Goode Job.  What this entails?  Being the media-savvy wine ambassador for Murphy-Good Winery in Sonoma County, CA.  A dream.  It’s a 6-month position, getting paid a lot, and all you do is learn, blog, twitter, and be the excited young highly functioning PR face of this winery.  All I have to do is make a compelling 1-minute video…that gets posted to their site…and people vote on which is their favorite…I have two weeks to do this, if I want to contend.  And really, I have a day to do it, as I’m leaving my good Mac computer here (video editing) in Israel in two days when I go to the States.  But really, what would be better?  It’s a dream.  I love wine.  More than that, I love teaching people about wine, and introducing wine, wine history, wine making, and everything else there is to folks who otherwise wouldn’t give a damn.  It’s exciting stuff.  The opportunity to reach out to millions.  So, what do you say…will you vote for me if I go head and spend all night making this video???  Pretty please?  With a cherry on top?
   

   Sonoma County

Another silly thing I did today was enter one of those travel contests.  It was kind of the most fun I’ve had entering a contest in a while, though, because it involved watching a fun video (vlog) about Paris and London, and then answering questions.  If you win, you get three days in Paris, a 1st class trip on the Eurostar (yup, they’re the sponsors), and three days in London.  Not too shabby.  To see about entering, go here.

The verdict?  Am I crazy?  Am I? If I could only figure out how to be productive, write these novels, get them out, AND travel the world doing these things, I’d be golden.  Someone’s gotta start paying me to blog, I think.  I hope it’s possible.

Have a great weekend, folks!

104 Days: Lessons from Miss Boyle

Susan Boyle

I first watched this video on Youtube early Wednesday morning GMT+2.  I found out about it then, instead of perhaps a day later when it became a huge sensation in the US because of her name.  Susan Boyle.  While I suppose it’s common enough, I have a dear, dear friend by the same exact name, and when a Facebook friend posted that, “Susan Boyle is my hero!” or something to that extent, I perked up and immediately googled.   Most everyone has undoubtedly seen this, and if you haven’t, you MUST.  I am not ashamed to say I have seen it perhaps ten or more times, since.  And I’ve got some thoughts.  First, here it is.  Youtube has blocked embedding on all videos of her, apparently.

There have been many articles written about why Susan Boyle’s story is so extraordinary.  See some good examples of at HuffPo.  Mainly:

1) Don’t judge a book by its cover

2) Ageism be damned!

She’s a dowdy country bumpkin, an old maid who stayed home to care for her dying mother.  Such wasted talent.  But she is The Everyman.  Someone so ordinary and unassuming.  And yet she has an exceptional gift.  It’s at once an exhilarating experience and a tragedy for all of us to watch her.  So uplifting is her voice, but she has been in obscurity all her life, and indeed would have died in obscurity, had she not sung on this television program.  It’s heartbreaking that she represents all of us.  All of us.  Because who knows, we could all be so talented in our own ways.  And despite living life “with no regrets,” I do believe we all have our “what ifs” to reckon with.  It’s not just the ordinariness, not just the age, not just the talent that wraps up to become this Cinderella story.

Did anyone notice how poignant was the song choice?  Can you imagine Susan backstage, knowing, believing in her heart that this was her one chance to perform on such a grand stage before such a large and esteemed audience?  She clearly did not even fathom she could go on the final round.  She trotted offstage without any thought after she sang.  She took the judges compliments gracefully, but was still shocked with they gave her three yeses.  So here is our Miss Boyle, preparing for the one and only performance that would count in her lifetime.  And she chooses I Dreamed a Dream.  Bloody hell.  Have you taken a close look at the lyrics?  Well, have a closer look:

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high,
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving.

Then I was young and unafraid
When dreams were made and used,
And wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung,
No wine untasted.

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hopes apart
As they turn your dreams to shame.

And still I dream he’ll come to me
And we will live our lives together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms
We cannot weather…

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I’m living
So different now from what it seems
Now life has killed
The dream I dreamed.

It’s her song.  It’s a song about wasted dreams.  About the difference between youth and jaded age.  About how life can and does destroy you.  And yet.  And yet.  The song has a tiny glimmer of hope.  She still dreams, even though there are dreams that cannot be.  I see Simon’s face as the camera switches to him, right when Susan sings the words, “I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I’m living…”  Are these not the very words with which so many of us are intimately acquainted?

What can we learn here?  It would be so simple to say, “go out, work hard, achieve your goals, live your life!”  Ya, sure, it’s sad that a talent contest is what brought Susan Boyle out of obscurity.  But on the flip side is this: the pure joy of it.  Had Susan never performed, she would still have possessed just as beautiful a voice and just as spunky a personality.  She would be the same person.  She was as incredible the day before the entire world knew who she was, as she is today.  And she is just as ordinary.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could accept both of these things within ourselves.  To push hard to achieve our dreams, and yet be at peace with everything we have, day in and day out.  Does one push negate the other?  Does ambition negate the tranquility of some sedentary ordinariness?  I don’t think so.  But I still think that most of us have not come to peace with the fact that we will not be world famous and beloved by millions for all our wonderful quirks and talents and abilities.  Still.  Still.  Still.  Just like in the song, we dream dreams that cannot be.  We still hope, even when we’re closer to grave than cradle.  Can we reject the dream of universal love and admiration, settle for the love and admiration around us, and still work to reach the stars?  I hope so.  Life would be a little less disappointing.  Yet it is what we make of it.  It always is.  Take it as you’d like.

I leave for Italy in about 16 hours.  I’ll try to blog more before.  Lord knows I feel like purging and writing and explaining and theorizing and philosophizing and all the wonderful self-centered things a blog allows (talk about dreams of universal attention and love and respect and bla bla bla…).  Have a wonderful Friday, and I great weekend!

131 Days: $100 House

Want  a house for $100?  You must watch this incredible video.  Inspiring.

Abandoned Detroit House

A facebook friend posted links to other segments of ABC’s most recent 20/20 program from a couple days ago, all about the impact of the economic crisis on everyday people.  And on kids.  Really decent stuff.  Nothing too “investigative,” however, as I’ve not been living in the USA for almost 1.5 years, it showed me how out of touch I was.  Living in Israel, I’m cushioned from the economic crisis.  I think this is because of a combination of things -

1. A socialist governmental system – sure people fall through the cracks, but not many – people don’t starve here, as far as I know.  People who don’t work get money from the government.
2. Israel distanced itself from the mortgage crisis.  Our banks are safe.  Sure, more people than average are losing jobs as a recourse of the international “ripple effect,” but it’s not like our financial foundations have been cracked.  At all.
3. Personally speaking, I’m young, single, have some savings, have a kind family, and life is pretty much normal, though I do worry about where the money is going to come from in the long term.
4. And finally, this is Israel.  We have endured terrorism, wars, and a large percentage of the population are holocaust survivors and/or their offspring.   Tough economic times we can weather.  Piece of cake.  Because as bitchy and rude and crude as Israelis are, we take care of each other.  Nobody I know has lost a home, or is in danger of losing a home, and if they were, I would be the first to take them in, do everything to find them a job, and fix the thing as soon as possible.  Many people I know have lost their jobs.  But nobody is panicking.

So, all in all, I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten in the States.  But watching that video kind of made me want to pack my bags, move to Detroit, buy a $100 house near these nice people, and start a new life, building it quite literally, with my hands.  Because these people are correct.  When you have nothing to lose, you have everything to gain.  It’s not a big gamble.  It’s a safe one, albeit pretty unattractive to most people.

And I NEED a home.  One I can afford.  I don’t have much to my name.  Maybe S10,000.  Probably less by now.  But I have no debt.  None.  I’m scared of moving out to the “boonies” or to the “country.”  I am single.  I have a tough enough time as it is forcing myself to be social.  If I isolate myself like this, or move to another environment farther from my friends, what kind of favor would I be doing myself?  Then again, doing everything possible to get out of this soul sucking apartment I’m living in now, full of the bagage of the dead and gone and departed, full of other people’s dust and clutter, is essential.  I promised myself a home by my birthday.  I’d better get moving.  My ideas?  Haifa – it’s still a city and I know some people there, although it’s not a great lively city and it’s only one good friend I actually have there.  Rural kibbutz – cheap rent, horses, agriculture, maybe a chance to learn a thing or two about winemaking, from the ground up.  Ideally, I’d like to buy.  But I don’t have a steady income, and probably not enough for a large downpayment.  I’d need the Israeli equivalent of that $100 house.  But perhaps it exists.  Then again, I’d have to go to Israel’s equivalent of Detroit…or Kansas…to do it.

Should I?  Decisions, decisions.

260 Days: MASSIVE CHANGE

I quit my job yesterday.

I bought a ticket to India today.

I leave on December 1st.

When I get back on January 2nd, I immediately begin a 6-month manuscript workshop with an excellent instructor and small group to get my book beaten into shape enough for me to send to agents and publishers.

Also on January 2nd, I begin my life as a full-time freelance writer/food writer and personal chef.  I am already creating a business plan, of sorts, and I at least own the textbook bible how-to of setting up this kind of business (thanks to B).

I am shocked.  I am shocked and stunned and awe-struck because I am achieving my goals.  I wrote them down.  First, here in this blog, and second, on paper this week.  And I’m checking off the list.  I am nowhere near professional success…but I’m not on square one.  And I am much nearer personal success than I had believed.  I have accomplished or am about to accomplish the first four items on my list: finish the book; go to India; get a pet; find career/money/happiness balance.

• One – I’ve signed up for the manuscript workshop, it’s costing a lot, I have to work hard on the thing even before it starts (in the 2.5 weeks I have!), and I’ll be damned if I don’t make something of it with all of this structure I’m creating.
• Two – I got my ticket to India today!  I go for a month.  I wish it could be for two, but a month is a long trip, still.  I am being realistic.  I can’t see all of the country in this amount of time.  But I can focus on three or four regions, have a good time, and learn something.  I’m planning on taking classes on Punjabi and Kerala cuisines, and really try to get an amateur-mastery level before I come back.  Plus — I have number three to worry about…
• Three – I adopted two cats on August 8 of this year.  It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.  And I don’t think I would have done it otherwise and under different circumstances.  My sister asked me.  It was her last day on her archaeological dig, and the all kittens the site manager had brought with him from home to be adopted had been — apart from two.  I suspect they were the runt and the bad egg.  However, Cassiopeia (the runt) and Fischer (the bad egg, aka the tornado) have been wonderful.  After I got used to them.  The first month or two were very hard.  Very hard.  I always thought I was a pet person.  Instant companionship.  I felt invaded.  That my life was taken away from me.  My only safe haven in Israel destroyed.  But apart from keeping them from chewing on precious artwork (I live in my grandfather’s old art studio), and having to empty a litter box, they’re my family now.  I don’t love them like I love people.  But it’s nice not to be alone.
• Four – Figure out the work/life/money/creativity – well, I’m doing it.  I quit the job that was horribly for me in many, many ways.  And I’m going to put in a real, hard-working, 6-month effort at food and writing and food writing.

So, there you have it.  Living my dream.  Still, I’m alone on a Thursday night (like Friday night everywhere else in the world).  But it’s better.  I talked to several friends today, and I have some plans for the weekend.  No dating.  Kind of.  Mr 23 is still loitering in the outside lobby of my social life.  But tonight, I have an iMac, two (thankfully) sleepy cats, an apartment to clean, some old movies, a novel to edit, and a trip to India to plan.

Congratulate me, if you will, if you’ve read this far.  And let me know if you have suggestions for India.  I’m a (nearly) blank slate. You know, you can do it, too.  How simple it is.  Just write it down, and check the items off as you go.

My first blog entry: Just Another Number? Just Another Life.

My List of things to do before 30

269 Days: “A New Birth of Freedom”

These immortal words of Abraham Lincoln from the Gettysburg Address will be the theme of Barack Obama’s inauguration.  The decision was made by the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugral Ceremonies, and was announced by its chair Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-CA).  The theme celebrates the 200th anniversary of the birth of Abraham Lincoln.

In June, 2005, Barack Obama wrote a beautiful essay entitled, “What I See in Lincoln’s Eyes, ” published in Time Magazine.  I highly recommend reading it.  An excerpt below:

“In Lincoln’s rise from poverty, his ultimate mastery of language and law, his capacity to overcome personal loss and remain determined in the face of repeated defeat–in all this, he reminded me not just of my own struggles. He also reminded me of a larger, fundamental element of American life–the enduring belief that we can constantly remake ourselves to fit our larger dreams.”

My god.  The enduring belief that we can constantly remake ourselves to fit our larger dreams.  This is exactly what I so admire about Obama.  He, like Kennedy before him, has reminded us that we will have to work.  Work hard.  But that having dreams, having big fat dreams, is not only possible, but necessary.  Would we have gone to the moon had it not been for Kennedy declaring that we would in under a decade?  Could we as a nation have elected Obama at all?

I am really inspired.  I have always believed in dreams.  That with hard work, anything is possible.  Many think me naive, still.  To this day I often think back to that quotation of Eleanor Roosevelt’s: “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” And here we are.

The similarities between Obama and Lincoln struck me a few weeks ago in the throws of the last months of the campaign.  Not just the historic, idealistic similarities.  I mean, the physical similarities.  It’s weird.  Obama is an African American.  But he is tall and slim.  And he has a bony sort of face, not that it isn’t a handsome one.  Nah, I don’t know what I’m talking about…maybe it was just the ears…but here are some pictures anyway.

Abraham Lincoln, 1860

Barack Obama

Lincoln-Obama Fusion by Ron English

Obama has been compared to both John F and Bobby Kennedy, to FDR, and to Lincoln.  And he himself has appeared pretty cocky, arrogant, aloof.  But I don’t care.  He deserves this praise, if anyone has ever been so deserving.  Not even the conservatives are capable of raining on this parade.  Getting back to normal is going to be tough.  But not so tough as the work in front of all of us.  I finally feel like I have a mission.

358: Curiosity in a complacent world

I’m having a difficult evening. It comes on so sudden sometimes. A wave of depression. Although that’s not what it is. It’s more physical. My feet feel like they are tied down with weights. I move slowly. I feel down but not necessarily sad. Gloomy. Slow. Like I’m in water. My whole body feels like this now. And I don’t know why. Sometimes I wonder if the medicine I’m on is doing anything. If my diagnosis is correct. If any diagnosis can be 100% correct, and even if it is…, even if it is, we are human, who is to say we have invented medicine for everything.

I went to the mall to the super-pharm to refill my prescription, I only had one day of meds left, and I put off trying to find the actual prescription, as I knew for a fact I had lost it somewhere in all the papers of my life. After about an hour of searching I found it. And I was happy, and went off to get the meds. As I walked through the mall afterwards, I stopped at a few clothing stores, to very casually peruse, get some ideas. I’m going to a couple of weddings this month. It can never hurt. And it struck me how odd it must seem to people (if anyone were to pay attention to me at all…which I suspect they don’t – there are very few genuine people watchers anymore, very few aware people, I think) that I was dressed the way I was dressed, arranged my hair the way it was, walked around the way I was. Plain is an understatement for how I go about sometimes. I either dress up a little, or I don’t do anything. Today was pretty bad. Hair in a bun. No makeup. Blue trousers, light blue shirt, black sandals, canvas shoulder bag. No jewelry. And a morose expression. And this from someone in her prime, who wants to date, who wants to have friends, who has a good job, has vast interests and talents. And they tell me I’m not depressed. Just imbalanced. Mood imbalance. Sometimes that makes sense. The other times are just weird. Like spontaneously feeling like my legs were made of lead and realizing I was walking through the mall, no not walking, shuffling through the mall, at a snail’s pace.

It doesn’t scare me too much. It interests me more than anything. If we only live once, and I have no evidence to the contrary, I might as well be interested in myself, in my experiences. Life in many ways is harder for me. It’s hard to do normal things. It’s hard for me to make good friends, to know how to act in public, even though most people don’t suspect it of me. It’s hard for me to clean. To pay bills. Even though I like my house to be clean, and I have plenty of money to pay bills. I need to make lists to be the least bit productive. I have to force myself to do a lot of things. And when I’m sad, I’m sad. And when I’m scared, I’m really scared. And I’m scared a lot. But I’m also fascinated a lot. This world, everything in it, intrigues me. It makes me so happy to learn new things. I love it when I smell beautiful fragrant flowers just walking down the street. I get chills when I finally see and touch ancient historical monuments. I want to cry when I see a clear, perfect, dark night sky littered with stars. I wish I could identify more constellations. It was a goal at one point to learn. I wish I knew more plant species.  Speak another few more languages.  Know how to make the fluffiest croissants.  I wish I could read every book in the library.

My biggest frustration is that I have so few to share this passion with. And I don’t even know what to call it. A love of learning? A love of life? A fanatical awareness of our existence? Plain old insatiable curiosity? Curiosity. Someone recently called me the most curious person he had ever met. It doesn’t surprise me. I haven’t met many who are.  Mostly I identify with children.  It’s so fulfilling to get to share some fascinating tidbit of information with a child, and it excites them, too.  When I reveal a glimpse of how curious I really am to a new friend, or a new date, I either frighten them or fascinate them or both. When I was younger I took it as intimidation. Such an experienced person who knows so very much and who wants to know infinitely more…

There must be people out there like me. I think we all start out like this, but learn to become numb and complacent as adults. Maybe that’s my problem: I never grew up. Or, never believed I had to give up wonder and curiosity and naive hope and dreams. I just wish I could meet a man who had some concept of what it’s like, to want to devour encyclopedias, build model rockets, bake many-layered cakes, learn to fly airplanes, build airplanes, go hiking all over Europe looking for old Roman roads, sing opera, learn a new language, learn to play a new instrument, collect stamps, learn about economics, master calculus, write essays, poetry, novels, perform chemistry experiments on household products, plant trees, have an organic vegetable farm, fix the ozone hole, protect endangered animals, find a way to feed the world, find or invent new sources of energy, colonize the moon, and simply travel all over the planet, the solar system, the galaxy.

Sure, I know it’s not all possible. But I don’t believe that one day it all could be. And I could do an awful lot of that. That’s Socratic irony for you.  The more you know, the more you want to know.  But the more you know, the more you understand that you know nothing.  There is just so much to know.  One person cannot know everything.  Even a whole race cannot know everything.  Because everything is infinite.  So what do we do?  Throw our hands up and turn on the TV and eat potato chips?   I can’t give up.  Because learning is addictive.  It’s one of the things that makes us human.  Curiosity.  Life would not be life without it.  Not for us.

I just want someone at least a fraction as enthusiastic on board for the ride. Because I need the support. And some extra energy. It’s hard on your own. When your legs feel like lead. And you look like such a plain Jane.