El Rey

Okay, that's not really his entire last name, but it's part of it! LOL

===

Oh jeez, I'm SO FRIED and yes, Andrew, I almost COMPLETELY forgot to eat today because it was my first day back of class at the Academy. We were supposed to have met with our groups (check :) and as a composer I was supposed to have four sketches based on Oscar Wilde's "Lady Windermere's Fan" (um... no check).

I was so stressed out that I was only bringing in one of the four -- frickin' perfectionist that I am, had one done that was -- how do you say, DA BOMB -- but nada on the others. But because of my "honest outburst" at the beginning of class (I said if I were on Top Chef, I would've gotten me and my collaborators eliminated :( and my polite asking at break, we got a reprieve until tomorrow night. WHEW!

Pero ahorita mi cerebro esta CANSADO.

I'm fried... learned that from my new friend at Harry's (Diner). Handsome food server de Mexico who's fun to flirt with when I need some kind and gentle, yet male energy. :) Yo puedo practicar mi español y he gets to serve me food! :) He works two other jobs, one being mortgage loan stuff (yeah, I have stuff to learn there!) -- can I just say that AMBITION is nice on this soccer dad -- and he gave me his card. :)

A sight for aching eyes, and getting Oscar Wilde out of my head tonight... ¡hasta mañana!

Dream of Tillman

I'm so bummed -- I missed the bank. I knew lack of sleep last night, added to exercising with Andrew means I would take an afternoon nap, but I didn't think I'd go for two hours. Ugh.

But what was weird was that I was having one of those "Pay attention, this is a LESSON dream" dreams... and I have to write it down now before I forget the dream AND the lesson.

===

I don't when this was, but I was still living in this apartment, and yessirreebob, it still was a wreck. And Yvette and Tyler were still alive! I don't know where they came from but they were really sweet and I was ecstatic to have them back... until ANOTHER sheltie and ANOTHER pug came out of the woodwork somewher and I had FOUR dogs in this teeny, tiny place. I was really upset because I couldn't love them all equally until I could figure out which were MY REAL DOGS. I walked them and looked for clues, but it was so subtle... I hated it.

So I'm in the house feeding this melange of animals, and all of a sudden I hear a knock at the locked but open security door. "It's me, Tillman -- can we come in?"

"No, damnit! I told you, no one comes into this mess ever, it's fucking embarrassing... DON'T."

But it was too late, and there was Tillman F. from freshman year at college walking in. Damn I wish I could remember his last name so I can google him... I just sent an email to my college roommate Betty, hopefully she'll remember :) Tall, (over 6') handsome, and very British -- I have one picture of him somewhere at a Halloween party at a dorm party where you're supposed to dress like your roommate... we're holding drinks and I'm sure we're both smashed... I can't remember the night as much as I remember that picture... I wonder where the hell that is... I also remember I saw Rocky Horror for the firs time that year on campus and he was dressed as the Tim Curry character in fishnets, etc... and I seriously didn't know what going on. That was quite a phenonemon for a kid from a middle class, mixed neighborhood.

Anyhoo, Tillman walked in, didn't care aobut the house and came up and hugged and kissed me quite warmly. Funny, I knew it was Tillman, but he sounded and acted like Hugh Jackman, with a kick-ass Aussie accent. That's okay... not so bad! Hugh Jackman as Rocky Horror... oh, I digress.

In followed his mother, his father, his sister, her boyfriend, a crazy brother and a girlfriend, all casually dressed because they were in traveling mode.

Wait. I thought I was the girlfriend. But no, she was a hometown girl in Australian -- and the feeling of around was pretty sad... and anticipatory, as they were all anxious to get in their shuttle van and catch the flight home.

We all went outside into the driveway and people kept themselves busy... someone took a tour of a cemetary, somebody was playing frisbee with the four dogs, and The Girlfriend let us have time together. That was weird. It felt like he was my boyfriend... everyone knew it, and didn't care, including The Girlfriend. But I guess she knew Tillman had decided to go home to his life with her and it was killing me. Fortunately, she wasn't one to gloat, and he was in his last throes of saying goodbye.

We finally gathered into the van... on the way to the beautiful International airport that always shows up in my dreams (it's NOT LAX for sure) and got out wandered around. More waiting, more hugging from him and sad, sad kisses. But I couldn't get him to stay, as much as he loved me... he needed to go home. It was like I was the affair or Other Woman, everyone knew it but were okay because they liked me and knew the inevitable outcome. So most were tippy-toeing around us.

It felt really good to be wanted like that, even though it was another airport scene (i.e. Parrish!) and I was devastated. Finally he snuck me into an elevator so we could be alone -- sorta. Some Filipino (younger) lady got in there too, just staring away and I remember the irony of that -- but he didn't care. More hugging and kissing and tears... and acceptance... so, so strange. I'm half-awake watching this dream and thinking Why the hell am I dreaming about TILLMAN?

Then we have to go back to the gate area. I begged him... please, please stay with me. I'll be anything you want... just stay. I can't bear missing you, I won't survive.

Finally, he said it. "I love you, you know that, and I always will. And I don't want you to change, I want you to be who you are. But I'm going to go home and be with her. She's different and I need that -- she's a grown-up."

GULP.

DOUBLE GULP.

But before I could react to him... he said, "All is not lost though. I have somebody I want you to meet and I think you two might get along."

It was Tillman's twin... only now he really looked like Hugh Jackman (or maybe I'm more awake and I'm crossing my fingers and toes). And he was dressed very -- grown-up -- not in a suit or tux, but in adult clothes. So much so that I knew HE could be an adult and I could be -- well, adult too, but not force myself to be "the structured one."

Oh my goodness.

I smiled a big smile as we shook hands... and I knew I was in a good, hopeful place. And in real, waking life, I knew I had to GROW UP if I was going to ATTRACT that too...

Ah, that was the lesson. Now, on to find that picture of Tillman...

The TABA of the Crabs

Youtube.com is a miracle! I will never be sad again after watching this. HA!

Two Months from Yesterday

SAVE THE DATE: My Final Recital

... and the beginning of a new chapter! :)

Dearest family and dear, dear friends,

It's all systems "GO" for the Sheila S./Madley K. Senior Composition Recital to receive my B.A. in Music.

Please save the date:

Tuesday, November 28, 2006
7:30 pm
Occidental College's Herrick Chapel
Los Angeles (Eagle Rock)

(Anyone know of a local grad student or semi-professional who might be willing to conduct an award-winning 7-9 minute chamber orchestra piece, please point them my way asap!)

Invite to follow -- YAHOOEY!
Sheila/Madley

===

Took forever to send that out to my nearest and dearest, BUT IT'S BEEN SENT! YAY!

More importantly, I have a RECITAL DATE, the huge campus chapel and a potential Jury date end of October.

Good old Norm, my therapist, really nailed me on "trying to look good by going to therapy but not doing the work -- especially when you are one of the most CAPABLE people I know."

Wow. For once, I really heard that, from someone strong and firm, objective, who's feelings I wouldn't be afraid of hurting if I had a visceral reaction to that statement (which I did) -- and had no agenda except for my best interests.

I was thrown -- I told him I couldn't agree 100% with that statement and that 85% was more true. "I wouldn't have been where I am now, looking at the hardest time of my life, if I hadn't been in therapy at all."

And yet he was right, I needed to seriously STEP IT UP, because my very firm agreement with him was that I would (1) either finish the recital by December 31, 2006 (a date I choose carefully), or (2) let it go forever and GET ON WITH MY LIFE.

I'm choosing to finish it, and today, two days after booking everything and having my first meeting with my composition prof -- it's REAL and THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL IT'S NOT HAPPENING.

For my jury there are going to be NO SURPRISES. I've been through this before! And getting my B.A. is only a step on the way through to the rest of my life.

WHEW. It feels good to say that.

Next -- catch up with all the events I've been to lately -- most recently (Sept 26) -- The Contender finale at the Staples Center -- GO GRADY!

Diane's Dream

She told me this weekend she had a dream that her daughter called to tell her she and her husband were pregnant -- before her older brother and HIS wife were.

I just told Diane I'd log it here so we could see if that prediction was going to come through... maybe D's psychic! :)

Real quick...

(... because I'm so behind with these posts...)

Born out of necessity (couldn't afford the gym fee) but now it's actual goal: today I started training with Andrew for my first 5K!

Can't believe it... but today wasn't too bad. Remember, I did run 12 miles a week at one time... well, 23 years ago with a trainer who held my hand down to get me not be embarassed and run (it worked!).

It's gonna be in Dec or January... right after I GRADUATE so I have another goal and I don't just fall into depression...

Looking forward to this!

So it finally happened...

After thirty -- count 'em 30! -- years of driving, I ran out of gas for the very first (AND LAST) time. Fortunately it was in my carport... the old girl just didn't want to start up.

So as I'm waiting for AAA to bail me out of this one, why not blog?

===

This week has been a week of healing, I must say. The high point -- or rather the low point, or TURNING point was Monday evening. My dear friend Nancy was in from New York and we planned a day of play -- swimmng at the Omni Hotel pool, getting our hair blown out at a swanky salon, then having the oysters at Sai Sai in the Biltmore Hotel -- my goodness, we've been craving these oysters for a year, but they got a new chef and they changed. Very good though, and we even had the Kobe beef short ribs (thank god for expense accounts ;) with potato gnocchi (all too rich for my taste -- what happened to my palate?!).

But everything that day was covered by my incredible feeling of dread and illness. I'd had a miserable cough for over a week, I wasn't sleeping at night, I hadn't worked out in awhile, I was still peri-menopausing and I was frickin' flat broke -- I WAS DEPRESSED. And I couldn't shake it.

Fortunately, dear Nance was the wise and strong one for me and broke it down to basics: I'm taking care of my emotional life (with my shrink, Norm), I'm doing well mentally, and even have gotten back to regular healthy habits (cleaning, etc.) Everything that's happening to me is ONLY PHYSICAL -- so take care of it. :)

What great words! I know that logically, but somehow the drama queen in me wants to make it very existential -- you know, WHY IS MY SOUL HERE and all that. The answer is: go to the doctor, figure out what's up, take your meds, get yourself straighted out and you're fine.

Got squeezed in to see Dr. Tilem, who I adore because she's so matter of fact and non-judgmental. I got prescriptions for bronchitis (who knew?!) and my anti-depressant. My BP was way too high and she insisted I get that under control so I got my Rx for that too. And on the way out, hey, let's get some lab work done. After the follow-up in three weeks, we'll deal with the damn hot flashes and sleep apnea...

Wow, that felt good to take care of myself -- I think I'll just read my book, The Time Traveler's Wife, here in the shade of the building for awhile -- and get a $36 parking ticket. ACK!

The next day my labs come back really sucky -- I'm anemic and my kidneys are overworked because of my high blood pressure. Now I have to fit in iron three times a day, spaced out from my antibiotic. Geez! This calls for a med chart because I'm never going to remember anything. So I make one from Excel.

Today is the first day I've taken everything, and of course the BP med gives me a headache, so I have to add Extra Strength Tylenol to my regimen today. Bleech. But at least my head doesn't hurt.

Now to get some food... after the gas man with his $7/gallon gas comes, of course.

I'm Shocked!

Did not expect this at all... and almost disappointed! LOL

So much has happened but not ready to write about it... yet. Off to the library I go!

Madley

Which Sports Car Are YOU?

Congrats! You're an all-American Ford Mustang. You have just enough power and looks to keep their heads turning. While you may not be rich, you're still stylish, reliable, and women dig you!
Take this quiz!








Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Book and Music Lab is over

...and I'm having a hard time tonight coming down from it. We started early tonight at 6pm with other guests from the academy to learn the four different vocal ranges for each of the voices in musical theater (SATBaritone!) -- went over the repetoire and basically kicked some ass until 11pm. I of course didn't leave til 12:22 -- Bonnie and Ross and yakking because -- because we can!

So thrilled to be part of this org -- tomorrow I have to turn my formal application for the Introductory Year... can't wait!...

Now I have to try and relax... shouldn't have had that small chili and potato from Wendy's! LOL

Good night :)

Hollywood Heat and The Devil

It's a funny world I live in now -- right smack in the middle of "higher end" Hollywood, at the bottom of Runyon Canyon. Where lithe, young bodies go to exercise themselves and their dogs, on a street that's alive all hours of the night, and "Notices of Intended Filming" are posted on apartment gates like parking tickets. The 100+ degree weather has finally let up and I don't feel betrothed to the air conditioner.

Good puppy Nero seems to know everyone here, so I'm imagining Alan (especially) and Jeffrey are pretty social on their walks. Even really late (or really early :) there's always someone walking their dog... and I swear no one here looks like they're older than 40.

For the second night they're filming on Camino Palmero. The cast must be there because last night there were only security guards -- tonight I spoke with real LAPD.

After petting Nero and letting us cross the street, I asked one officer what they're doing. "Oh, it's 'Entourage.'" Funny, not even a preceding "the TV Show" or "a show on HBO" -- I guess Entourage is public domain now. :)

We took a different walk, and kept thinking I'd love to see the star, Adrian Grenier (the younger guy on the right), but then I thought, what the heck would I say to him? "I like your work," I suppose, so not to feel too stupid.

But the truth is, I like him because he reminds me of David Frankel (the older guy on the left).

It's funny, I tuned in to watch Entourage because much as I hate to admit it, I LOVE movies/shows about backstage show business shenanigans. Makes me still feel part of, I guess. How funny to find out that David Frankel, my ex-boss from The Ellen Burstyn Show directed the pilot to Entourage... and I bet he had a lot to do with the casting of Mr. Grenier. I have a picture of David at age 27 with the moppiest, curly mullet ever, and he was a dead-ringer for Adrian... and yes, you could say I was obsessed... David was my first "crush" on a "real" person in Hollywood. (Fan stuff -- Scott Baio and the like -- doesn't count!)

I was hired to work for David when we shot the pilot at Warner Bros. He was the Supervising Producer/Writer and I was to be his Assistant/Writer's Assistant. Whatever that meant because I'd never done that before! Previously I was typing a script on this new thing, a computer, with a producer named Norman Steinberg on the weekends on the Paramount lot (Yes! The same lot Scott Baio and Happy Days used tape at and I used to take the bus to see!). Norman's secretary, Juanita, didn't want to work on the weekends, so I got hired to type.

Boy did I learn a lot. At that point, I didn't know how to be an "assistant" to anybody, I was basically a production secretary on a magazine show before that and never had to "place calls" or "leave word" or "do a schedule." Juanita, the pro, taught me all of that. And when they shot they pilot, Norman asked me to work at the Warner Bros. lot for him and David since Juanita was already at his "real" office at Disney. Sure, why not.

So there I sit, all alone in a small office for this three-week shoot, and in comes David Frankel. I about croak... what a handsome guy! I was expecting an old person -- doesn't "Producer" mean "old"?

"Hi, I'm David."

I said hello back and he walked into the office to make calls. I'm sure I called Juanita, asking her why she didn't warn me -- he's so cute and only one year older than me! -- but she probably didn't think anything of it because David certainly wasn't HER type.

Anyhoo, I learned almost everything I know about scripts and assisting on that shoot. No one in the production office knew how to put out a script properly and I sure didn't either... someone finally brought one in from somewhere with all the colored pages for changes and headers at the top, etc. and I learned -- because I did I do everything! I put out pages, I xeroxed pages, I stayed at night to make the revisions, I drove to Disney to make the colored pages, collated and then distributed the scripts, and then I was back early in the morning for the scripts to be at the table read. OMG!

And in the meantime, David couldn't have been nicer. Quite uninterested in me, but really funny, super polite, even asking my opinion on jokes as we both learned about sitcoms. (Oh, and guess who played Ellen's daughter? Megan Mullaly, of Will and Grace fame.) Some other time I'll talk bout my six-month stint in New York when then show went into production... there are few good David Frankel memories there too and I don't want to forget them. :)

At the end final week of taping, I got a little crazy. (Probably from the sleep deprivation and all the responsibility!) I had befriended two of the actors, Billy Wirth and Maurice Davis, during the rehearsals and, yes even met David's dad. I got to speaking to him because I was on a "research project" to find out anything he might be able to say about David for the warm-up comedian -- only I don't know if I made that assignment up for myself or someone asked me to do that. In any case, someone in the office said David's dad was a really nice man, and wasn't it nice of him to take the time out of his busy schedule to fly to L.A. to see his son's show. (I thought this was normal as I'm sure MY parents would have come to see a show I had done!) I repeated that to Max, who said, "As long as I have a nice hotel room and the NY Times, I'm happy." Little did I know then that this was Max Frankel, Executive Editor of the New York Times -- what a humbling piece of information. I knew David was a Harvard man, but I didn't know from what beginnings he came... just that they were 100000% different than mine.

So the crazy part: at the final taping, I had bought congratulatory balloon bouquets to dear Norman, David, Billy and Maurice -- which, upon hindsight, sure seems like a HUGE faux pas! I mean, who the hell was I? An assistant on an assistant's wage paying over $120 for four corny arrangements! Well, it felt terrific at the time, and the look on Billy's face, just standing across backstage and waving at me with the balloons in his hand: PRICELESS.

In any case, I veered off in a weird direction, thinking about David Frankel in 1986 -- twenty years ago. Didn't expect that to do that, it was a nice trip down memory lane -- er, Fuller Avenue to be exact. Not much has changed for me but my name!... yet in saying that out loud, I know things are changing quickly... and I will always be a Hollywood girl.

Sending you good energy, David Frankel -- much happiness and thanks :)

Flattered... and proud!

The Los Angeles Fire Department's Public Service Officer, Brian Humphrey,
surprised me this morning in my comments box:

Ms. Katarungan,

First and foremost, please allow me to share how pleased we are that you safely survived your ordeal.

We've taken the liberty of sharing your well-crafted and (at the proper times) lighthearted missive with our LAFD News & Information blog visitors.

In doing so, we hope that members of the community and the Firefighters who serve them will gain better insight into what it may be like if they are (heaven forbid) ever trapped in an elevator.

We hope that you will be able to join us for the upcoming Firefighter Festival of Hollywood, when we hope that you'll be reunited with the crew from Fire Station 27's 'A' Platoon.

Again, thanks for sharing your experience.

Respectfully Yours in Safety and Service,

Brian Humphrey
Firefighter/Specialist
Public Service Officer
Los Angeles Fire Department
Brian Humphrey | Homepage | 07.19.06 - 11:02 am | #

So there I am on their blog and a great intro -- please feel free to read. I couldn't be more proud.

(BTW, the LAFD has a huge following (congrats!) -- my stats yesterday were incredible!)

L.A.F.D. Rules!

If ever there was a time to be blogging, this was it -- yes, tonight after a late night visit with a friend, I was stuck in an elevator for the first time in my life!

Right now I'm pet/housesitting at Jeffrey and Alan's in Hollywood. As I'm driving up and clickin' the clicker to open the garage gate, I'm thinking about how cool it is to always have a parking space in a condo building with an elevator in Hollywood. Life's good.

I threw out some garbage from my car (okay, I dropped by Mickey D's and had a McChicken sandwich) into the garbage can next to the elevator. Hmmm, I think, it's empty, someone just cleaned the garbage out. I get into the elevator, put my access key in and press 3 and proceed to daydream as I always do in elevators.

Took me a while to realize that there was nothing happening. Nothing.

Press 2. Nothing again. How about 1? Why isn't this thing moving? Hm. Okay, open sesame... oh dear, it's not gonna open either. Did I put the key in right? Yes. Aw, hell. No need for anxiety attacks now, this is why you've had all this emergency training, right? Just breathe.

There's an alarm button there... what does that do? No, no alarm yet, let's use that call button. It says it will flash when the call is answered. It's not flashing. Nothing is happening.

I don't want to alarm anyone yet, so I call Jeffrey in Chicago on his cell phone. It's probably 5:45 his time... well, who knows how early he gets up, but maybe he has the number to the super? Er, manager? Oh wait, these are condos, there is no super/manager, or a super manager for that matter. Hm. Well, it's moot anyway, I get his voice mail... and hot damn if my cell phone isn't flashing "low battery." Hang up fast.

So it's time to press the alarm button. It's a bell like noise and a white light goes off in the elevator each time you press it. Like a Staples Easy Button or something but with sound and light. Oh, I get it. It's an alarm to physically alert someone that there's something wrong with the elevator. It doesn't go anywhere, it just sounds pretty and makes pretty light. Oh shit. Nobody here is awake.

Well, hm. I'm going to wait until 4:00 am then I'm going to use my precious battery juju on 911. Trying to remember the other number they say you should call -- one that starts with 3 because this doesn't feel too emergency like... but what is it? 311? 399? Oh hell. Practice your speech because you're on the clock.

California Highway Patrol picks up after I say "ONE" into the phone.

"Hi, I'm stuck in an elevator at _ _ _ _ N. Fuller Avenue and I'm running out of juice on my phone!" The lady dispatcher says she'll connect me to the fire department and I'm telling her to please hurry... (the nerve of me.)

She connects me right away with the fire guys: "What's the address?" "_ _ _ _ N. Fuller Avenue and my battery's going dead." "What's the number you're calling from?" "It's my cell, _ _ _ _ _ _ _ but I'm running out juice!" At least I got out the address.

"Don't panic, and don't try to get out because you might hurt yourself. We're sending someone out right away."

"Okay."

I finally allow myself to sit on the floor. I did that well, I think to myself. I didn't panic, I acted like a grown-up would. If I had had a baby or a child with me, I would have been the perfect picture of calmness, no claustrophobia in sight at all. As a matter of fact, hm... I start singing: "Raindrops on rose and whiskers on kittens..." No, no, things weren't so bad and I don't know all the lyrics, even though I just sang it with my babysitting charge, Kate, tonight. What was that other one? Oh, yes, from The King and I: "Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect, And whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect I'm afraid." :)

Nah, don't need it... and I'm now I'm giggling because I know I'm gonna blog about this right away.

About ten minutes later, I hear noise. "Ma'am, you all right? Do you have any medical problems?"

I say I'm okay. They yell back: "Ma'am? Are you all right?" So I yell back that I'M OKAY WITH NO MEDICAL PROBLEMS. I'm also thinking of something light to say to ease the tension but then think that maybe that would be an obstruction of justice or something like that -- I stay silent.

They tell me they're working on it, so I start braiding my hair. I know -- braiding my hair? Works better than whistling, I guess.

I hear more male voices. They ask me what floor I'm on -- I say the ground floor. Okay, they're close, better get up. Wish I had put a bra on before I left... oops.

A few minutes later a voice says, "Ma'am, can you push on the door, going from left to right? Push with all your might." I push and groan my Superwoman groan:

"Nothing. Sorry."

"That's okay ma'am." Suddenly the door magically opens: and there are at least five firefighters dressed to the hilt. I'm a bit wowed and must have been grinning a big ole Cheshire smile, but then I remember to be humble and grateful.

"Thank you, thank you!" I say.

There's one among them in jeans and a tank top: "Don't do that again."

"Are you the super?" I say, forgetting there aren't "supers" in LOS ANGELES. "No," he says, "I'm in 101. What happened?"

The head/lead/oldest firefighter tells me there are no stairs to the ground floor, I'll have to go to the first floor from the outside. I thank him because I'm housesitting and have no idea where the stairs are. Then I walk out onto the street with the gang -- there are two huge fire trucks and the at least four more firefighter guys out there. Wow.

"Thank you again," I say. And they all -- well, probably most of them anyway -- wave. Good old L.A.F.D.!

Now I'm thinking about the stairs, as I go in the front door with Michael. I tell him that the elevator call button GOES NO WHERE. He's not happy with that. I almost say some smart ass remark about homeowners fees, but wisely hold my tongue because I'm not wanting to cause stress for my dear Jeffrey and Alan. But I'm sure that will get fixed soon. I mean what if they got someone hysterical (crazy/sick not funny/hilarious) in there?

I say good night and walk up the two flights. Oh goodie, I'm not out of breath -- training with Andrew works! Nero is waiting for me and gets all petted down before I start typing this.

Tomorrow I'll worry about the metaphysical implications of BEING STUCK IN AN ELEVATOR ON THE GROUND FLOOR... oops, guess I just figured it out. Well, I'm going to have a good sleep now... thanks again, L.A.F.D.!

Perspective

...and all I want are my puppies.

A Blogthing

You Are 60% Boyish and 40% Girlish

You are pretty evenly split down the middle - a total eunuch. Okay, kidding about the eunuch part. But you do get along with both sexes. You reject traditional gender roles. However, you don't actively fight them. You're just you. You don't try to be what people expect you to be.

How Boyish or Girlish Are You?

I'm Home!

It's 12:50 am and I just got back from my Academy music class that ended at 10:30... yes, yes, because I was talking to my teacher, Ross, at my car about an incredible project he's working on. (MMMs the word, but I will say my MOTHER will LOVE it!)

I haven't checked my emails or my messages yet because I'm too excited -- I keep thanking God for blessing me with my new life! It's not just musicals... it's that ALL of music makes sense to me now. It's that all the people make sense! It's that I, MYSELF make sense now... as in everything is all coming together. My love of music, my wanting to make it, the emotionality of it... yikes!

If I could write a joyous piece right now... this would one of the moments it would be centered around... YIPPEE!!!

Quan Yin

How did it happen I met a new website client today who tells me about the female buddha of healing compassion, Quan Yin? Did you know she's also the goddess of barren women?

Hm.

tick... tick...BOOM!

tick... tick... BOOM!tick... tick...BOOM! by Jonathan Larson ("Rent") - EXTENDS TO August 6th!

I was prepared to be disappointed because CJ had so recommended it, and yes, for the first five minutes I was stiff and underthrilled...

Until I allowed myself to relax, and not judge myself for being 46 and in the same damn place this almost-30-year-old caracteris. Once I could do that... of course, I saw myself in him.

I lived in a 5th floor studio walkup with three people in Hell's Kitchen in the late 80s. I got mistaken once for Santa Claus as I dragged my 30 pound of laundry in the snow to the laundry mat. And yes, I've done the corporate thing... for a long time.

But today I'm taking classes at the Academy of New Musical Theater -- I've found home, and shock (ha! not to my real friends), it's in musical theater! As a composer and hopefully bookwriter too... and our idols are both the same: Stephen Sondheim. Almost makes me want to change my name back to its original S.S... (NOT.). Wonder if I'll ever get to meet the infamous Mr. Sondheim before... before I go BOOM!

So eery that prevailed over the whole show, and lingered in the lobby as I read memorabilia of Jonathan's life: that he died 10 days before turning 36, just before RENT went to Broadway. That he was born only two months before me. That I get to be here and he isn't... it's so incredibly sad.

It was "REAL LIFE" sung by Wilson Cruz and Andrew Samonsky that made me lose it. Such a beautiful song, that made me feel for my fellow artists, especially the ones in L.A., who keep young, keep plugging away, still live like kids but have hope and don't choose "REAL LIFE." And it made me feel for me too.

Last night I babysat beautiful Kate and we watched The Sound of Music again, except with the Julie Andrews commentary turned on. Watching the kids sing "The Sound of Music" for the Baroness and seeing The Captain melt and love his family again... it made me wonder what happened to my dream of having a boatload of kids (twins, triplets, adopted -- you name it, I wanted them!). When did that dream die and I have to try and "prove" myself. And why is that mutually exclusive from being an artist?

So more tears came. Knowing that that's usually a very open, receptive, vulnerable place (for anybody) -- I had a Scarlett O'Hara moment:

"Okay, God -- if I'm meant to have a family and the man who loves me -- BRING IT ON! I won't make up excuses like I'm too fat, too poor, not accomplished, not ready. Whatever that next trip is, I will embrace it... BRING IT ON and I will choose LIFE."a

After my nap.

Thank God for "You Tube" - Ilia

The first time I saw Ilia Kulik EVER during his Long Program on the Olympics, and fortunately I had taped that. But this Short Program, which I LOVE LOVE LOVE, I don't have. Now I can always watch it, and immediately I'm in 1998... (and still hating Scott Hamilton's commentary too).

Thank you everyone for posting!

Last warmup before Short Program

Interview w/ Tracy Wilson before the Short Program

Nagano Short Program, "Revolutions"

After the win interview

The Lake House

The Lake House

Didn't want to like it and hated the music.

But I loved it. God help me.

First day of Musical School

Tonight was my first day of class at ANMT with Ross the teacher. And Joyce. And one other guy who'll be there next week. Three of us tonight, four of us after that. Can I just say I'M THRILLED?!

It's the Composers Lab and I'm feeling good because I know I have the tools. I can work a computer, including the music program, I've written for voice and orchestra, and now I just have to learn the how to thrive in the new world of musical theater and its special lingo.

The first 1/2 hour we just spent getting to know each other, and Ross rightly said he wanted me to talk about how I felt like bursting in tears. I'd said if I do start the waterworks, it's because it's been a long, circuituous route to be in that class, but give me a half an hour and then I'll be into the work.

Well, we did better than that... we all stayed an hour after class still excited to share stories and go over our material on musical notation.

First assignment: to write 32 measures of a melody that's aching to be sung by a Mandy Patinkin or... Of course I couldn't think of anyone else, but it doesn't matter who right now... I'm excited. And we have to do a lead sheet, or a whole piano vocal score if we can. Well, hell, OF COURSE I can... watch me kick ass (if I don't get on my own back.). But here's the kicker... it has to be HANDWRITTEN, in pencil and on manuscript paper.

Holy shit.

I haven't done that since my junior year at the start of the 80s... geez. I was shocked that he said that, but he said there's something to learn so I guess I will try it. After all, I did get a suggestion in 1981 that I would be great music copyist because I had a solid hand. :)

But then he said to me alone, you know, if you really want to do it on the computer and then copy it, you can do that -- just don't tell me you did it, okay? I think he knows I'm know my notation stuff, but no, I'm not gonna cheat. Unless it ends up being a five- minute piece -- then you better believe I'm using the PC! LOL

I've spent the last five days copyediting a novel and finished it just a few hours before relaxing and going to class. It was a terrific exercise for me (and nicely paying too), and now... I get to be all about me and music for awhile.

Tomorrow is the Book Lab (the script of a musical), but I have to leave early so I can read hands at a grad night at Universal from 9:30 pm to 3:00 am. WOW! This has been the busiest week I've had in months, (and yes, I'm having a bit o' trouble relaxing and sleeping), but I wouldn't have it any other way. Every move I've made, every appointment and job I've taken has been FOR MYSELF and no one else. And it's nice to take all the credit for those decisions too... though I haven't figured out yet how to balance it all, I am one heppy gel. :)

Il Divo and Hero

Boy, do I hate that Mariah Carey song "Hero" -- at least her version of it. Just got a streaming video of the Il Divo boys doing it and again I burst into tears. What is it with me? Boy, these fellows are something else... married, who cares, but when they sing, especially the bass guy... wow.

Their concert is already sold out in LA for June 28... let's see, who can I get to go with me on the 29th? Zowee...

On another note, I'm working on some hard, deep-rooted crap in my life with my good old therapist, Norm. Namely SLEEP... and my lack of a willingness to do the best thing for me. I just turn into a nasty or scared or a combination of both little BRAT.

Last night I was supposed to be in bed by 2am and up by 9am... both times I set for myself, neither of which I did. Ugh. I will say I had a good dream going up and down the elevators in Century City and then meeting G3rry Alt@mero at home to sell real estate... hm... G3rry, why do you come to me in my dreams when I'm stressed? What are you telling me?

I didn't wake up until 12:40. Yuck.

Academy of New Musical Theater

Dear CJ, Viv, Heidi, Viv G and Claudia,

Yes, folks, that's the Academy of New Musical Theater -- and I've just returned from an afternoon and evening with them!

Can I just tell you -- I was nervous to go, I was 7 minutes late and they were just getting started with the Demonstration of their Introductory workshop... talk about resisting that what I want most! But not three minutes when the Founder and Artistic Director, John Sparks started talking about what musical theater was -- IT'S ABOUT FEELINGS, FOLKS -- okay, I'm bawling like a baby. Sob Sob Sob... and I know I've waited all my life to be here.

I didn't think there would be almost 40 people there -- so good to be in like-minded people! And of all ages and from what I could tell from the questions afterwards, all levels of experience in book writing, lyrics and composing...

I CAME HOME TONIGHT.

There were a few short performances of how it each of the labs worked... and afterwards I met the man who will be teaching the music course... talk about a lot in common! He's gonna be a great teacher, not to mention a frickin' funny guy.

Speaking of funny guy... Kevin, Catheryn's friend, found me afterwards. I told him I knew he'd find me as was the only large, beautiful Filipino woman in the room so he couldn't miss me! hehehe We went to a good Chinese place close by, and it was very nice to have my door opened for me, etc. The (straight) man loves his musicals... and is a very pleasant fellow.

We went back to for the dress rehearsals of the four mini-musicals that will be performed on Tuesday... talk about different levels of experience.... I actually felt myself feeling relaxed. And guess what -- I wasn't the only large, beautiful Filipino woman in the room: the composer of the last musical was Filipino and had been introduced to ANMT by Kevin (who she knows from church). Interesting, eh? I said hello and even met her parents... of course the (typical) first thing out of their mouths was" "Do you speak Tagalog?" ("No, I was born here, but I understand a little" is my normal response to that, just FYI.)

So... I'm letting you know I'm in a terrific place -- and my tooth/jaw doesn't even hurt anymore! Please remind me that I had today when I'm miserable... please!

Thank you all for being there for me in this endeavor, the closest and most hidden in my heart (excluding boys/men, but that's another email :)

With smiles,
Madley

Crawler

adopt your own virtual pet!

I'm in need of some YOUTH around here...

adopt your own virtual pet!

Armed and Naive

Still giggling from my Sunday evening-before-I-lose-the-sun walk at the park where I used the walk the pupsters...

Walking on the path right next to the L.A. River, I could hear "popping" sounds and saw four people -- two teams of two -- in army fatigues and black ski masks shooting "machine guns" at each other, hiding behind trees, skulking around.

Of course I knew they were playing -- how could they do that so openly in GLENDALE? Had me a giggle and kept on my walk...

On the way back, they seemed to be paralleling me, but I wasn't going to give up my slow-as-hell-but-consistent pace, and at one point I was right in the line of fire behind one of the gunpersons...

And POWIE, one little pellet, the size of a piece of medium doggie kibble, hit me -- somewhere so easy I can't remember where, but not hard at all.

"Hey!" I yelled -- "GO THE OTHER WAY!"

The person closest to me turned at saw me, then started moving the other direction...thank you, I thought to myself... then one of the gunperson's got nailed by somebody else and I heard a female laugh. Heya! I started wondering how competitive I was myself. Answer: Not very. Unless you count perfectionism as competition with yourself -- most of the time I just call that insanity. Anyway, it's getting pretty dark and I continue on my walk when...

Blue and red lights go off! A siren yelps, then a man on the loudspeaker:

"PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN AND BACK AWAY!"

Ah! The Glendale Police Department to the rescue!

Once more: "PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN AND WALK AWAY!"

Oh my. Are these folks being stubborn? I look in the dark to see the four people drop the "weapons" on ground with the arms up and start walking towards the Glendale P.D. SUV. One of the homes that border the park must have called them... and these war mongers were gonna get in trouble. OOH!

OOH?!

Am I crazy? All of a sudden, in the pit of my stomach, I thought: Am I RETARDED that seeing games like this out in the public didn't make me worry or concerned? Am I that old, or jaded, or NAIVE?

Granted this isn't Israel, or Iraq, or even the Philippines where real machine guns can pop out onto anyone's arms in a second... but it didn't even PHASE me, until the police officer called it a "weapon."

Yikes. But you know, I just chalked it up to age, wisdom and focus on my walk because I still had ten more fence pushups I wanted to do...

FOCUS ON MY WALK? Isn't that funny, me? Yes, me. And I'm still smiling... my, I've changed, if but a little... Is THIS what they call "The Wisdom of Menopause"?! :)