Bla-bla-bla

My latest fascination is this new form of telemarketing that seems to be all the rage. The messages on my voice mail always go something like this (insert chummy, upbeat tone here):

"Hey guys, sorry I didn't catch you in. I'm going to leave a message if that's OK. You've been selected to win a free trip to bla-bla-bla. Just call bla-bla-bla and ask for Kevin."

Hey guys??? Kevin, I need to know if anyone, anywhere ever calls you back. Does anyone, anywhere fall for this routine? Believe you're they're good buddy? Think the trip is really free? Any of the above?

I know telemarketers are just trying to make a living. But this approach just seems so contrived and sad. An interesting study in human nature.

Starting anew

My day was filled, it seems, with people venturing into new beginnings. I love how naturally attracted I am to these kinds of people and vice versa.

Lunch with one. A client session with another. A phone call with yet another. Their excitement is palpable, contagious even. Pushing past anxiety, taking baby steps until their gut says it's time to plunge, smiling so widely it's heartening.

A fine day for a life coach.

Light

Some things that inspire me:

-- Really good turn of phrase. From Jazz by Toni Morrison, which I just finished reading:
I want to be in a place already made for me, both snug and wide open. With a doorway never needing to be closed, a view slanted for light and bright autumn leaves but not rain. Where moonlight can be counted on if the sky is clear and stars no matter what.

-- Warren Buffett. He just announced he'd be giving much of his fortune to improve world health and education. And maybe equally inspiring, he lives in the same house in Omaha, Neb. which he bought in 1958 for $31,500.

-- The New York Times. For thoughtfully continuing its quest to inform people because they have a right to know, the essence of a free press.

Impressive all.

Zonin'

I think it's safe to say I've had a good writing session when I'm laughing out loud at my own jokes, jokes that feel like they're channeling through me as the dialogue pours onto the page.

My writer is happy today.

The fiction section

Again I am laughing at reaction to The DaVinci Code. Caught a documentary about decoding the book and all these scholars are lined up to disprove statements in it.

So let me get this straight. James Frey was nailed to the cross for calling his memoir fact instead of fiction when he took liberty with some events. Dan Brown is getting persecuted for weaving a compelling story around some real events and copping to the fact that he took liberties by calling it fiction.

Here's a fact. One of the joys of writing fiction is that you can blur the line between fantasy and reality. That's the fun of it. You create a world within a work that will fill readers with wonder and curiosity about what's on the next page.

Duh.

Food group

Just stocked my refrigerator with freshness. Fresh tomatoes, celery, cucumber, lettuce, cherries, peaches. Will spike a nice balsamic vinaigrette with some dijon mustard or raspberry preserves. Some tricks learned from my "friends" on the Food Network.

My body feels so grateful for that kind of fuel. It shows me again and again.

I am strong.

Lightbulb moment

I have an idea. A really good one. It comes from a place in myself that I really like, the common sense, grounded, smart place.

It is time for a sweet beginning. It will co-exist nicely with other ventures and goals. Intertwine with them, even.

Yes, I like this feeling very much.

Never a dull moment.

Land of the free

I love that I live in a country that attracts so many people to its beauty and freedom. I know quite a few people who have come from other lands and have embraced what America offers and it makes me proud.

Today one of those women from another land expressed unabashed glee that the United States lost in the World Cup. She has been routing for the U.S. to lose, she said, looking at me apologetically.

Well, I can't say I give a lick that the U.S. lost since I haven't been following the World Cup. I do get a kick out of others' reactions and excitement around it, but I digress.

What I did think in reaction to this woman was, why are you here? I have no problem with folks who disagree with some American policies or get annoyed at American arrogance. Those things bug me sometimes, too. But if you go to the trouble of routing against the very country you decided to settle in, don't you have to ask yourself why you're here to start with?

Come on. We have people dying on rafts trying to get here from points south. We have people who want to be here so much they're doing back-breaking labor to keep the dream alive.

Part of me thinks I'm making too much of a sports thing, maybe blowing it out of proportion. But an insightful, seasoned part of me knows from 15 years in sports journalism that sports can tell you a lot about a person and there's more to it than what happens between the white lines.

You're free to be here. You're free to not be here. You're free.

The riff goes on

Really sinking my teeth into Jazz now. Toni Morrison has a way of telling you a ton in a single sentence. Countless examples. Yet today's favorite line suggests a running theme from yesterday:

There, in a city, they are not so much new as themselves: their stronger, riskier selves.

Morrison keeps echoing how I felt -- yet couldn't quite articulate as beautifully -- about growing up a suburbanite, getting a taste of urban life and realizing I had come home. For me, there is a headiness in a city that cannot be captured in any other setting. It's like instead of watching a movie, you're in it. You're participating. You're in the game.

Yes, that's about right.

Lyric passage

Started reading Jazz by Toni Morrison today. My favorite line so far:

A city like this one makes me dream tall and feel in on things.

Abso-freakin-lutely.

Book flow

As I sit here storyboarding my book using index cards, I have a strong sense of connection with the material and my creative flow. Suddenly missing pieces are flashing through my head and I'm trying to document them in little catch phrases until I can get them all worked through and written in detail.

I am wide-eyed with anticipation over what will come pouring out of me, giddy over my own creation. Go figure.

So good.

Two R's

Been thinking a lot about books and writing this weekend.

Got my July issue of O magazine in the mail just before getting on a train for a weekend at my parents' house. The theme of the issue is "summer reading." Lots of thoughtful features, one of which is the first few lines of some famous books. Prompted me to want to pick up my dormant copy of Toni Morrison's Jazz.

The magazine also talked about some kindred spirits in reading, people who like to escape into books. I don't do that nearly as much as I used to and I need to bring it back. It also made me think more about the potential readers of my own book and how I want them to feel moved and to not want to look up from the pages because they are so absorbed.

Over Father's Day dinner, I heard so many stories from my parents' lives that I wondered if my second book shouldn't cover some of that. There is some rich material there.

Then I had a conversation with a friend who has lost touch with her writing. Reminded me of a period of time when I left 15 years in daily journalism and became a producer/editor at Fox Sports and then the NHL. I did virtually no writing -- not at work or home -- and it took me a while to start craving it again. Now I do daily morning journaling, an almost daily blog entry, work on my book, and occasional essays and articles. Sometimes there's nothing like a respite to get the juices flowing again.

Reading feeds it, too. The weekend fed it. I'm fed.

Kindness and karma

I've been the recipient of random acts of kindness so much lately. It blows me away.

I'm much more inclined to perform random acts of kindness than ever before. It comes naturally, like my heart has expanded.

Methinks the two are linked. Must be something to that karma thing ...

Mood music

Sunday night while watching the Tony Awards it seems I caught a fever. The Jersey Boys fever. Suddenly I want to see that play like there's no tomorrow. They performed You're Just Too Good To Be True and Who Loves You and it lifted me right off my couch. I always liked the Four Seasons but never realized how appealing it might be to see their stuff woven through a story.

Now if only the tickets weren't $200 each. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and my ears open for a miracle discount or something. Mom and Sis are itchin' for tix as well.

And speaking of music that lifts my mood, every day there's a guy on the corner of 7th Avenue and 29th St. selling those bubble-making plastic guns. He's very jolly and waves them around while he dances to 80s music. I absolutely love it. It's like a little surprise each day that puts a spring in my step as the bubbles just fill the air all around.

Happy tunes.

Blessings

Saw Melissa Etheridge discussing her cancer on The Oprah Winfrey Show today. With so much pain and discomfort and no desire to read or watch TV or listen to music, she found herself in a meditative state through much of her treatment. Pondering, as she put it to Oprah with a chuckle, "the meaning of life." She considers it all a blessing.

This attitude in life impresses me so. To see the birth of a child as a blessing is easy. To see an inheritance at a pivotal time in life as a blessing is easy. To see cancer as a blessing, not so easy.

Oprah's next guest was a college guy who was born with almost no arms or legs. His parents made a conscious decision not to treat him any different from a "normal" child and as a result he learned how to fend for himself. There is no victim mentality. He drives, types, wrestles, dates. It's amazing. He has written a book called No Excuses.

Classic Oprah. Finding stories that go above and beyond to inspire and jolt us out of our complacency.

Connections

I talked to an old friend today. It was invigorating to catch her up and vice versa.

We had a moment of synchronicity around Winged Victory, my favorite piece of art from my recent trip to Paris. It seems she's redoing her room with Frank Lloyd Wright in mind. He, of course, is a big fan of Winged Victory and she's shopping for a little replica.

Just a few months ago she could have told me this and I would have had no idea what she was talking about. I love these splendid discoveries from my travels.

Hmmmmm. Where to go next?

A wink and a nod

Sometimes the best thing life can do for you is hand you validation. That is how I feel today.

A message this morning at church reminded me how important it is to be patient and to persevere. Rev. August Gold wove a broader message through a specific story about the stops and starts of getting her book published. It brought to mind a lesson I got earlier this year: You must believe in your book so fully that you know the agent who reps it will be very, very lucky. Not the other way around. A major distinction.

More validation later in the day. A decision I made this year that I occasionally still question. A big, fat sign this evening that it was the right thing to do. A deep sigh of relief for following through on something that has been at times excruciating. Good for me.

And then there's the Tony Awards. One act, one award after another sending the message that stick-to-it-ive-ness pays off.

Thank you, Universe, for always being a step ahead.

Go away

This afternoon, the kind of headache you can only surrender to. Behind the eyes. It begs for a reclining position. A nap.

I waved the white flag.

I feel great.

Bitchin'

I've decided that anyone who helped put Ann Coulter's new book atop the most requested list on Amazon.com deserves the karma that comes with supporting a reactionary bitch.

And speaking of bitches, what the heck was up with Deborah Solomon and her nasty questions to Lorraine Bracco in The New York Times Magazine Q&A interview last Sunday? One after another, the questions had a malicious tone. Hon, move your act to Washington D.C. where your particular brand of persistent probing is desperately needed. Do we really need investigative reporting when the subject is on a mob show? The journalist in me was appalled at how much of the writer's ego was inserted into the exchange. Ew.

Bitch-o-rama.

Be aggressive

I need to be more aggressive. This is what I've decided.

Aggressive about selling my book.
Aggressive about marketing my business.
Aggressive about dating fab men.
Aggressive about speaking up in boundary-setting situations.

Aggressive.

I mean, assertive is a more popular concept, but it's like aggressive-light. Nope, it won't do at all.

Aggressive. Be aggressive.

If God exists

I hear about this story as I'm listening to the radio this morning:

KIEV, Ukraine - A man shouting that God would keep him safe was mauled to death by a lioness in the Kiev zoo after he crept into the animal's enclosure, a zoo official said Monday.

“The man shouted, ‘God will save me, if he exists,’ lowered himself by a rope into the enclosure, took his shoes off and went up to the lions,” the official said. “A lioness went straight for him, knocked him down and severed his carotid artery.”

So Jim Kerr on Q104.3 says, maybe the lion was just thinking if God exists he'll send me some lunch.

Perfect.

Gold dust

The message at church yesterday, as delivered by Rev. August Gold, was as bawdy as it was a call to action. The woman has got game.

Some of her points:
-- Show up every day on the page.
-- Know when to surrender to relaxation instead of staying in work-work-work mode.
-- Expand and grow to be able to hold new things that come along.
-- Hear it when someone is trying to give helpful advice.

I laughed and listened hard.

Chocolate resolution

I had to call my cellular service carrier to resolve a situation. So I proceed to explain to the very nice young woman that I was in Europe but can now deal with it. She says, "Where in Europe?" I say Paris. She says, "I'm going to Paris and then Rome in a few weeks." I tell her I have one tip, "Go to Angelina for the hot chocolate." She writes it down.

My situation gets resolved very satisfactorily.

In a few weeks, my ears will be ringing as she takes her first sip of liquid heaven.

The boss

I have put in a workday of sorts in a cafe. The rain provides a steady beat outside. The people coming and going make for just enough distraction to help me concentrate. I love feeling this productive when I am my only boss.

Now it's time for fun. I'm outta here. The boss says so.

Bag babble

I like Coach handbags. They're smart, clean in design, nicely made. But I can't deal with the fact that they've become a status symbol for teen-aged girls. It's so prevalent. I just saw a news report that took place at a high school and so many girls had them.

I hate to sound like an old grown-up, but I think I'm done with that particular brand. Those of us who have come into our own need special things of our own, I think. Like my scarf collection -- Hermes, Versace, Pucci, Nicole Miller. Oooh la la. What fun.

And they all look fab wrapped around my handbag from Target.

Walls of water

What I love about thunder and lightning and torrential rain is how it suddenly feels like instant permission to settle in and nest.

And so I did.