I've (maybe temporarily) moved my journal to a new host. I'm just going to try out blogger.com, see if I like it. I'm pretty much HTML stupid, so I don't know if I'll be able to handle all the formatting responsibility I'll have with this new host, but we'll see. I'll keep my livejournal account active until I figure out a way to archive everything.

In the meantime, check out my new site, and please ignore any formatting issues...

http://www.katieeverybody.blogspot.com

Thanks!

You know the normal car alarm sound? It's like: whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop, nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner, pow, pow. pow, pow, doo-DOO, doo-DOO, doo-DOO, doo-DOO. You know.

Well, today, as Gina and I were in the parking lot at Starbucks for our daily fix (I'm going with the caffeine-free espresso drinks, an oxymoron in the highest terms), we heard a small, unobtrusive beeping. It was similar to that of a large truck backing up, but if it had been a large truck, it would've been about a half mile away, it was so quiet. I then thought it was a smoke alarm... again, a half mile away... some sort of outdoor smoke alarm, I imagined.

We finally got out of the car and I saw the source of the noise. It was the ever-threatening alarm for the pinkish red Dodge Neon parked a few spaces away. It's lights were blinking on and off and it wasn't even making a "beep-beep" noise... it was more like, "bep bep bep."

I didn't know Dodge Neons were such hot items these days.

I'm from this pocket of northeastern Ohio where there doesn't seem to be any discernible accent or dialect. In Cleveland, roughly 60 miles westnorthwest of my home town, you can hear an accent. I can meet someone in LA from Cleveland and immediately know he's from Cleveland. It's sort of a mix between a Michigan accent and a Chicago accent, but definitely discernible from both.

I have cousins in Florida, and I always wondered what they must think of my "accent." In my head, it was really a lack of an accent, but I reminded myself that they probably don't hear their own accent, and of course I must have an accent.

Every once in a while, people will say something to me like, "Oh, I can hear your midwest accent," and I usually don't believe them. Finally, I'm proved right. For once.

There's an article by John Seabrook in the New Yorker this week about this famous linguist named William Labov. Part of the article says this, of the so-called midwestern dialect:

"Labov explained that locals in such areas as northern Ohio and Michigan traditionally spoke precise English because they wanted to distinguish themselves from the speakers of Southern dialects in their states - a split that seems to go back to the Civil War. John Kenyon, the pronunciation editor for the 2nd edition of Webster's, in the thirties, came from northeastern Ohio, and he helped make Inland North the standard American dialect."

So there.

Through some random twist of fate, I was able to see a pre-release screening of Rent last night.

I first heard the Rent Original Broadway Cast Recording somewhere around 1996. It was my freshman year of college, and I asked for it for Christmas. When I first listened to it, I didn't get 98 percent of it. I didn't get that Angel was really a guy, I didn't get any of the gay references. I sort of gave up on it.

I majored in Theater in college, and the more I got involved in the theater program, the more I started listening to it. EVERYONE in the department was talking about it. One lucky one had actually gone to NYC to see it. The more I listened to it, the more I understood it, and the more I started to wonder where the songs had been all my life.

Since then, I've seen it three or four times with various casts. I've loved it every time, and the music has not stopped enthralling me. So naturally, when I heard there was a movie coming out, I was suspicious. Excited, but suspicious. Then I heard it was being filmed in San Francisco, and I became worried. When I heard Chris Columbus was directing it, I became gravely concerned. How does the guy behind Home Alone and Harry Potter direct one of the most edgy musicals of our time?

Despite my reservations, I was excited to see the movie. I kept reminding myself the original cast would be in it, and I am very close to being obsessed with Idina Menzel, who played Maureen (and also Elphaba in Wicked). And of course, the people that make the trailers to movies were doing their jobs, because I wanted to jump out of my skin every time I saw a promo.

In the dark theater last night, the anticipation was killing me. The movie opened with "Seasons of Love," which is the beginning of the 2nd act in the musical. I was okay with it, though... it sort of set the tone for the movie, as though it was a way of reminding the audience, this was a play, so please suspend your disbelief for a couple of hours while these folks burst into song every five minutes.

I wanted to be overwhelmed. I wanted to cry through the whole thing. I don't want to talk about my reaction to every single bit of the movie, but I was slightly disappointed. They cut out three of my favorite songs, and some of it was definitely tacky and not very inspired. However, a lot of the songs, most of them in fact, did not disappoint: Would You Light My Candle?, Today 4 U, Take Me, La Vie Boheme (probably my favorite moment in the movie), and of course, Maureen's performance piece was great because it was all Idina, all the time, and she's just plain genius. Also great: Will I Lose My Dignity, I'll Cover You, I Should Tell You.

Overall, I'd say people who only know the musical a little bit will like it. People who know every word, inflection, and breath might be a little disappointed. But really... it's a musical where the lyrics speak for themselves... if you don't like what you're seeing, close your eyes... if nothing else, you're hearing the music blasted over the speakers in the theater, and that alone is worth the $11 you'll pay to get in.

Today I took full advantage of my health insurance.

I wrote earlier about my weird foot thing-a-ma-jig, which is on my RIGHT foot, not my LEFT foot. Anyway, I went to get it x-rayed at Cedars. From there, I had to rush over to my 11:15 appointment with my doctor (my regular doctor, not my foot doctor). I was 14 minutes late (if you're 15 minutes late, you have to reschedule).

My doctor wanted to take blood and I asked for the flu shot, which meant I would get pricked twice in a matter of 10 minutes. The nurse gave me my flu shot and sent me down the hall to the lab for the blood drawing. When the nurse saw my vein, she said, "Niiice!", as though she was a guy and I was a guy and I just opened the hood of my brand new Mustang.

Reminded me of this conversation I had with gina when I was 13 and she was 16:

gina: (grabbing my arm) Oh my god, your veins! Do you shoot up?
me: Um, no.
gina: You should!

I feel lucky to have witnessed both of my sisters grow up. What is the best part of this is knowing them every day and seeing how they get funnier as the years go by. I remember when Jessie (now 19) was about 16 and started having this crazy sense of humor and I thought she was the funniest person I knew. Well, now Jackie's 17, and she is starting to be someone who can make me laugh more than almost anyone else.

A few snippets of our phone conversation:

Me: Hey, what's up?
Jackie: Nothin', what's up with you?
Me: Not much, just working.
J: LUCKY!!! (Napoleon Dynamite reference 1)

***

Me: How's school?
J: Good. Oh my god, Katie. Mr. King said I was a really good debater, because... well, because I am. We had to give this debate in class, and my topic was the death penalty, which I was against, and since I was against it, I had to argue for it.
Me: Uh huh.
J: And my team won. And now I'm for the death penalty. I'm a big republican now. I pretty much love George Bush. (laugh)
Me: That's not even funny to joke about.
J: I know. Anyway, Mr. King's against the death penalty, but our team won because I convinced him it's a good idea, because I said, what would happen if someone murdered your wife and daughter, what then? And he said he'd want the death penalty, and I said, heck YES you would. (Napoleon Dynamite ref 2)
Me: What's with all of these death penalty debates?
J: These are hot issues right now, Katie.

***

J: I got a 103 out of 100 on my math project. My Venezuelan boyfriend got a 107.
Me: You have a Venezuelan boyfriend?
J: Yeah. His name is Alley-Hahndro. (She meant Alejandro, but she pronounced it Alley-Hahndro) He's not really my boyfriend. Mr. Forrester (the band director) is.
Me: Mr. Forrester is your boyfriend?
J: Yeah, I confessed my undying love to him Friday night.

***

Me: Are you still sick?
J: Yeah. I think it's the bird flu.


***

J: There's this guy in school who looks like Tony Hawk, and my friend had a picture of him, so I carried it around and told everyone I met him at a skateboarding convention in Alabama.

***

J: Man, I HATE being sick.
Me: Yeah, I was sick last week, I missed three days of work.
J: Oh yeah, how's your tummy feeling?
Me: Better, thanks.
J: Was it the Bavarian flu?

***

Me: Jackie, you are so funny.
J: I know!! I'm pretty much the funniest person in school.

Date:	2005-10-31 17:15
Subject:	Understanding how to behave in any given setting...
Security:	Public
Mood:	amused

I had a doctor's appointment this morning with a new doctor for this crazy thing I have going on with my foot, which those closest to me know as STP, or Sudden Toe Pain. I'll be sitting somewhere, standing somewhere, walking somewhere, and all of a sudden, this lightning pain shoots through the third toe on my left foot. It leaves as quickly as it comes, but it HURTS. Finally, it got bad enough a few weeks ago for me to make an appointment with a podiatrist.

So I make an appointment with Dr. Steven Schwartz (not the guy who wrote Wicked). Thanks to the world of HMOs, this doctor is in the same building as my regular doctor, except on a different floor. I suppose I expected the office to look similar inside. Instead, the waiting room was about half the size of my doctor's office, which made it a little awkward. I walked in and told the woman behind the glass, "I have a 9:30 with Dr. Schwartz."

The woman says, "First time here?" As the woman asks me this, however, I hear a woman in the waiting room, sitting about 5 feet behind me, say, "I have a 9:30 with Dr. Schwartz."

Me to woman behind glass: Yes.
Woman behind glass: Okay, fill out this paperwork.
Woman in waiting room, overlapping woman behind glass again: I wonder if he double booked.

I take a seat about two seats down from the talkative one, because really, there's no other choice. Of course, she has to ask me: Do you have a 9:30 with Dr. Schwartz?

Me: Yes.

Woman: Well, I have a 9:30 with Dr. Schwartz.

Me: Well, he (filling out paperwork, trying to ignore her)... must be a superhero or something.

A few minutes later, the woman went up to the woman behind the glass, and this is what was said:

Woman: Is there a bathroom in here?

WBG (Woman behind glass): No, you have to go to the first floor.

Woman: Well, I have a 9:30 with Dr. Schwartz, and it's 9:29 now, and I don't want to miss it, because this woman (motioning to me) has a 9:30 too and I was here 15 minutes before her, so I want to go first.

WBG: There are two doctors, you'll be fine, you have time.

The woman took her seat, not willing to risk missing being called. After a few minutes, she apparently couldn't hold it anymore, so she left. She was gone a few moments and came back and immediately looked at me: Did they call anyone?

It was then that I punched her, right in the face. Took her mind off of her foot pain, I expect.

DSC04884.JPG, originally uploaded by eternal_buzz.

It was the RF Modulator! Yes, it sounds like something Marvin the Martian used to zap his frenemies, but the little RF Modulator I've had hooked up to my TV for the past three years has basically been a dud. It's why my DVD player produces a pasty white screen for every DVD... and it's why my DVR was all f*cked too.

I saw a preview for the Family Guy and never realized how many colors there were on that show!!!

Courage is not the absence of fear - instead it is being afraid and going on anyway.

Today marks the day the 2000th soldier died in Iraq.

What else is left to say?

I'm one of these people who refuses to read instructions on how to "hook up" stuff. It's not out of the ordinary for me to hook up someone's computer for them, fresh out of the box, without so much as glancing at the instructions. This is because I pride myself on knowing a little more than the basics when it comes to hooking up electronics. I'm not as good as my friend Rachel, who should consider a career in home media services, but I'm pretty knowledgeable.

When I ordered my DVR through Comcast, I knew I could hook it up by myself, so I wasn't going to pay someone 30 dollars to hook it up. I hooked it up, and it's been working fine, except that the color on my TV is all blown out white. Since this wasn't a problem before I hooked up the DVR, I called the cable company. They said they'd send someone out.

The first appointment was for Friday between 3-5. Someone came but called the wrong number. They said they'd send someone out again and no one ever came. We rescheduled for Sunday between 1-5. No one showed up on Sunday. No phone call, n o t h i n g. We called. "Oh, no one got to your order because we have a small crew of people working." #@*!

The final appointment was rescheduled for today. The guy came at 10, thankfully. After about 10 minutes, however, I realized I was dealing with someone who has only been taught to hook up cable boxes, not how video, audio, and cable actually WORK in relation to the television. He swapped out my DVR box for a new one, and loss of 20 hours of programming was no big deal to me as long as this would fix the problem. Hooked up the new DVR, nothing changed.

He kept telling me it was the TV. I knew it wasn't the TV, and if it WAS the TV, I wanted to know why A. it worked fine before I hooked up the DVR, and B. why it worked fine three days ago when it was in the living room. He tinkered with it some more, and kept insisting it was the TV. He would then ask me things like, "can you change the channels with the remote?" and my answer would be, "There is no power going to the cable box right now. See? It's off. So no, I can't change the channels."

He then re-hooked something up, and there was power but no picture. I looked at what he hooked up... removed the white plug from the yellow input thingy and put it the white input thingy where it belongs (see, that's why it's color coded!), put the yellow plug into the yellow input thingy, and voila, it was fine.

Things like this happened for about 20 minutes - things like me telling him why it wasn't working.

Finally, after an hour of telling me it was the TV and me telling him no it's not, he called his supervisor and came back into the room and said it was the RF converter box (which made sense, so I bought it ). The RF converter is just a little box that allows TVs made before 2000 or so to work with such new media inventions like DVD players and DVRs. What I don't understand is why he didn't know that in the first place.

When he was finishing up, he hooked up the cable incorrectly, so I finally just told him to leave, that there is nothing left he can do that I can't do on my own. So I fixed it, and will buy a new RF converter, and let you all know what happens. I know you're dying from anticipation.

One of the reasons I love Gina so much is because she stands up for what she believes in, consistently. She always wants to recycle, she'd rather ride her bike than drive her car, and the minute she gets it in her head that there is an injustice in the world, she'll do what she can to fix it.

The downside of this, of course, is the fact that as much as I like to say I'm this wonderful person, I'm not, and being around her makes me feel like a Republican. Okay, maybe not that bad.

Here's us at the grocery store:

Katie: (consulting my list) Okay, coffee. Cinnamon Hazelnut coffee. That's what I want. I even wrote it on my list.
Gina: (hands me coffee with no Cinnamon Hazelnut written on it) Here, how about this?
Katie: No, I want to get Cinnamon Hazelnut this time. (picks up Cinnamon Hazelnut coffee) Ah! Here it is!
Gina: (looks at my coffee, and then... quietly...) But that's not Fair Trade.
Katie: So?
Gina: (holds up her coffee) This is Fair Trade.
Katie: But it's not Cinnamon Hazelnut, and it's three dollars more expensive.
Gina: Those coffee bean pickers should get paid what their worth!!!
Katie: Well, so should I!
Gina: (pause) It's just something I feel strongly about.
Katie: (puts coffee down, takes Fair Trade coffee) Fine. Let's get this one.
Gina: No, get what you want.
Katie: But now I feel like a horrible person! You're right! We'll get Fair Trade. Sheesh. (mumbling) Stupid coffee bean pickers.

My friend Wendy once said of someone who swore she'd never have kids, "Well, what would ever make her want to be a better person, if she doesn't have kids?"

Gina makes me want to be a better person every day I spend with her... I can't imagine what I'll feel like if we have kids.

Date:	2005-10-13 08:24
Subject:	Favorite
Security:	Public
Mood:	happy

One of my favorite things EVER is when I spell check my journal updates and I get the following message:

No spelling errors found.

Man, I love that.

For your enjoyment, the five of you that read this thing, here's my seemingly eternal list of Things To Do:

1. Write.
2. Edit Amy's screenplay.
3. Organize photos, digital and paper copies.
4. Call Grandma.
5. Visit Betsy and Audra and their 2 kids.
6. Visit Kim and Kyle.
7. Throw away old clothes.
8. Clean.
9. Rework budget.
10. Pay off credit cards.
11. Call Madeline.
12. Laundry.

This has been my same list for about a year, give or take a few items. Sigh.

Date:	2005-10-12 17:36
Subject:	A List
Security:	Public
Mood:	thoughtful

Things That Would Be Really Hard to Draw In Pictionary and Would Definitely Be Filed Under "Difficult"

1. Intrigue
2. Influence
3. Liberal Agenda
4. "The"
5. Galvanize
6. Irreconcilable Differences
7. Default
8. Stevie Nicks

I wasn't sure how I felt about going home this weekend for Chrissy's wedding. I was happy she asked me to be in it, but I have a very skewed vision of marriage, and what with my parents going through a pending divorce, I knew it would be weird to be at a wedding, let alone a part of it.

When we arrived Thursday and got to her house, I immediately was so grateful I was there. She has this homey house in Columbus with her now-husband Dan, and I could tell right away she was happy to see me.

The rehearsal dinner on Friday saw Patrick and I split a bottle and a half of wine. The drunken walk back to the hotel in the 55 degree weather was not the most fun. Nor was the no-sleep me, Chrissy, Brianne (maid of honor), and Noelle got. We all were quiet as mice, thinking every other girl was sleeping... turns out, none of us got more than an hour's sleep Friday night.

Saturday started early, with us going to get our hair done. We got to the salon at 7:30 and were there until 12:00. Once we got to the church, we suited up.

There were nine of us changing in this small room: five bridesmaids, two junior bridesmaids, the bride, and the mother of the bride. We were all pretty busy with our own stuff. I was putting on my makeup, my jewelry, and my shoes, and I turned around and there stood Chrissy, freshly buttoned up in her dress, looking in the mirror hesitantly. She caught me looking at her.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Good. Really, really good." And I started crying.

I really didn't stop crying until the very end of the ceremony. And even then, the tears returned at the reception.

I'm not sure what it was... I have a feeling the lack of sleep was a major player in my emotions that day. But more than that, it was this girl I've known for 12 years, almost half of my life, arguably my closest friend from high school, and I was at her wedding. She was getting married. Not only was I at the wedding, I was in the wedding. I stood up for her. And the gravity of it all overwhelmed me like a patient rain that had been hanging in the air for days.

Suddenly, nothing else mattered: the 600 plus dollars I spent to be there, the 6am flight on Thursday morning, the uncomfortable shoes, my contacts, the cold weather, my lack of sleep... it all vanished, and I was left with the feeling that there was nowhere else in the whole world I would have rather been than right there at that moment.

It was the most important day of her life up to this point, and she had asked me to be a part of it not because she felt obligated to, not because she needed another bridesmaid. She wanted me there. And the way she acted around me and the way she treated me, I knew that my presence was of incredible importance to her.

She and I speak maybe three times a year on the phone: on each other's birthdays, and at Christmas. And yet, every time I see her, it's like it always has been, and despite the distance that has wedged itself between us, I was at the top of her list for this day. And both she and the groom made it clear to me that this was the case. They expressed their gratitude about five times each day I was there.

My weird detachment with marriage vanished for a day. Chrissy is always happy... but I had never seen her happier than that day. And seeing her and her husband together, exhausted, excited, and enthralled made me both happy and hopeful. Hopeful, and longing, for a life of love, family, and security that I sometimes think I won't ever find in the way I had thought I'd find it.

Here's a picture of me (center), Noelle, and Chrissy, the bride. The three of us were inseparable in high school; I have at least a dozen pictures of the three of us dating from 1994. I think this one is my favorite.

iloveit, originally uploaded by eternal_buzz.

Date:	2005-10-04 11:16
Subject:	Twisted
Security:	Public
Mood:	tired

Every night, we go to sleep with the sheet neatly on top of us, the comforter neatly on top of the sheet. Every morning, we wake up to the sheet totally curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed, and the comforter keeping every inch of Gina totally warm and snuggly, while leaving me only my PJs to keep me warm.

It's not like it's happened once or twice. It's pretty much every morning.

I still wake up giggling, because I'm happy she's there.

The normal feeling of deflation that comes with Mondays isn't as strong today, as today marks the start of a... THREE DAY WEEK! That's right, I'm only working Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to make way for a fabulous four day trip to Ohio commencing on Thursday and most likely ending in a tear-streaked mess Monday morning. Allow me to explain.

I leave Thursday morning, early. My flight is at 6am. All day Friday and Saturday will be taken up by wedding plans (which include not only matching outfits for the actual wedding, but for the before-the-wedding festivities as well). Sunday is family day. This is the day I fear the most.

October has always been a busy month in my family. My mom's birthday is tomorrow, the 4th. My sister Jackie's is the 6th, and my dad's is the 9th. So on Sunday, the original plan was to celebrate the birthdays at my aunt's house with a big pasta dinner, courtesy of my mom. Well, now that my parents seemingly can't be in the same room without making snide remarks or unnecessarily loud sighs (I'm only imagining this as I haven't seen the two of them in four months), Sunday is shaping up to be nothing but awkward. On top of this, apparently my sister Jessie isn't on speaking terms right now with my mom, and Jackie's so emotionally charged, she's probably taking my mom's side and fighting everyone else to the death. I feel as though I'm about to enter the fray of something I've been happy enough up until now to avoid. Add to it that I'll be at my aunt's house, so any awkwardness will be compounded by the fact that I'm not remotely on my own turf, and that my aunt will be feeling even more awkward than I.

I like to think of myself as a mediator, as someone who is diplomatic to a fault, someone who sees a problem and wants to fix it, not through confrontation but through compromise, someone who is convinced there is no problem out there that can't be fixed with a dose of good attitude and positive thinking. This thing with my mom and dad, I can't fix it. For the first time, there's absolutely nothing I can do, or want to do, to change anything. I can't distract anyone from it, I can't convince anyone it'll be fine. This time when I go home, instead of being the child home from wherever, I'm going to be the Adult Child visiting her deteriorating family, salvaging what she can of the good memories she can hold onto. The good news is, I don't have to listen to anyone anymore. And I think that will become shockingly clear over the next week.

I keep thinking of that line in Garden State: Maybe that's all family is - a group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

fire2, originally uploaded by eternal_buzz.

More fire.

fire1, originally uploaded by eternal_buzz.

Pictures from the Burbank fire, as seen from Laurel Canyon Blvd in North Hollywood.