John Cameron Mitchell kissed me

Tonight I saw Hedwig with Neil Patrick Harris. It was great. Afterward I lingered by the stage door, figuring why not. The guy from Once signed our Playbills, so that was cool. While standing among the Hed-heads, one of them remarked hey that guy over there is someone. How do we know him? I realized THATS JOHN CAMERON MITCHELL. I left the NPH line to run over and interrupt his life, something I never do. I didn’t ask for a photo, figuring that would be annoying (which I’m now cursing myself for not being annoying. I was already interrupting his convo with friends like an asshole) but stammered “I got out of the Neil Patrick line.” He just hugged me and kissed my cheek.

To back up, in college I lived in LA for a semester doing film stuff at USC. I read a great review in LA Weekly about a new movie about a drag queen. Since I was into seeing indie movies at the time I dragged my friend Nell along. Then a few weeks later I dragged my boyfriend. Everyone loved it. I bought the soundtrack. I bought the DVD. I wrote the lyrics to Wicked Little Town (reprise) in a breakup note to a loser. 

"You don’t care about celebrities," my husband said after I recounted my JCM hug, tears in my eyes. We have had exposure to lots of them through our jobs (mostly Mikes). "You didn’t care about Sean Penn, Ben Stiller, Casey Affleck, Ted Danson. You asked Mary Steenburgen to take a picture for you!" It’s true, but those people had no meaning in my life! I explained. They’re just famous people, but mean nothing to me. JCM has meaning!

It was a good night. :)

Imma talk shop for a minute

I went to grad school for something no one has to go to grad school for- journalism. We aren’t doctors or getting people out of murder charges (although sometimes…) Anyway it’s not required by law. I went because it was 2008 and all my jobs kept losing funding and whatever. I went.

The only real thing I gained from my year at Medill was my connections to other up and coming Journalists. Some were fucking dickheads, and quickly went into PR. Some were lost little children, and quickly married or went into another grad school program. The others were amazing.

Today I got to book one of my classmates on my show, and I was so happy about it. He’s a great writer, and writes all the time about wrestling, and when I had a wrestling story fall into my lap he was the first person I thought of. I also booked a very famous former wrestler, of course I had no idea how famous he was until my husband said WHOA! DDP!

This marks the second time in two weeks I’ve had a victory at work. The prior was a tie in with CNN Deathrow Stories. The convicted had been exonerated, but our focus was the family of the original victim. Speaking to the sister of the murdered man, I assured her we wanted to talk about her brother, not the convicted man who went free. She said, “In 30 years no one has ever asked me to talk about my brother.” Her getting to tell her story made my LIFE.

It’s a shitty fucking slog, but I’m really happy I’m not an accountant, and I don’t work in a factory. Although I do miss folding jeans at Bloomies…

I signed up for two marathons this year, 3 weeks apart (nyc and Chicago). I’ve run nyc once and chi three times (holy shit had it been that many times?! My knees tell me yes). I don’t know if I’m in chi yet because it’s a lottery now.

I know I say this a lot, but after this I’m done. Until 40, because you have to run a marathon if you’ve ever run one before when you turn 40.

And 50.

And after I have a baby. But besides that I’m totally done. I swear!

Hey @americanair I am on flight 378 and was forced to check my bag because there was “absolutely no overhead space”. So I made an album of alllll the space. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy waiting 2 hours at lga for my bag! #ridiculous #americanair #worstairline

It is still unnerving to walk into my childhood bedroom to find it has been redone (again). It’s true, I haven’t lived here in 15 years, and it’s nice to find my wedding pictures have replaced my prom pics, but it’s still weird.

I know, most of my friends no longer have a childhood bedroom. Their parents sold the room (along with the house) (although it would be really interesting to hear of someone whose parents just sold their room, and kept the rest of the house. I feel like this would be very possible in NYC) and moved elsewhere. Or divorced and bitterly feuded over the room until it was torn apart. Or, you know, died.

So I guess I should be grateful I still have this room. It’s been redone 4 times now by my count, but never repainted. And my weird childhood dresser is still here. At one point my mom declared it her sewing room and moved the bed to the room over the garage, which is cold and smells weird, but that didn’t last long. Then it had a sad twin and that’s where I slept while working near my hometown 3 days a week for 2 years after college. Sigh memories.

I guess I should kind of be grateful that they never let me have any boys in here until my husband. I guess now this is our strangely furnished, sort of my room because my high school underwear still live here but not because nothing else from high school does, room in Peru. Not that one, the one in Illinois.

Home.

That feeling of you just want a slice of pizza for dinner and then you remember that you live in NYC and you just have to walk to the corner and it’s delicious and you’re so happy!

See also: bagels

Nearly every day I have the intention to write. I feel its there in me, ready to come to the surface and flow onto the page. I lay awake at night and the words become present, beginnings that eluded me are clear and my mind flows words, good ones. And then I fall asleep.

I don’t know if I’m a writer, I pretend I could be. I know when I read a bad one. I believe it’s a craft you’re either born with or you’re not. If you aren’t you can learn enough to write an article, but you’re never going to be Hemingway. Or even Kerouac.

I am afraid that I’m in the 98% of those who cannot actually write. But who knows until I really attempt it?

I need a typewriter.

Tonight a good friend came from DC to NYC for a visit, and before bed she was journaling. This is something I’ve heard often from my “Habitat” (for Humanity) friends. They aren’t on a computer, or phone, and they hold a small book and write in it with a pen or pencil.

This is something I haven’t done since early college, where I filled up a perfectly good book with nonsense poems about the moon and love and dreams and my feet and his eyebrows and all of it is complete nonsense.

I am envious as fuck of the exercise though, writing nightly thoughts, by hand, onto a piece of goddamn paper. There is no way I could ever achieve this, as simple as it is. But I got to feeling guilty about not acutally writing anything of real meaning anywhere- here, or on I don’t know… facebook? Where do we write things anymore? We’re too advanced to write by hand, but too vulnerable to write online.

I’m getting a fucking typewriter. A fancy old good one.

Ebay?

TD/TP

I’d like to say I’ve been super busy getting projects done, and writing, and finally installing the rack we got for pots and pans… but no I’ve really just been binge watching True Detective (and House of Cards, but at least I do that while at the gym). If you haven’t watched it stop reading this and go watch all of it immediately (I’ll give you my HBO Go password which 36 people are already using). My predictions, which will hopefully not be as embarrassing as my Oscar picks.

The Yellow King isn’t a real person or entity, it’s a demon type-thingy that possesses weak men, a la BOB in Twin Peaks. Marty’s daughter was raped by the 5 Horsemen, duh. Rust is going to sacrifice himself to save Marty, possibly by becoming The Yellow King. A la Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks. The Lawnmower man is the one that procures the girls for the 5 Horsemen, which are members of the Tuttle family. One of the Horsemen is Maggie’s dad. Carcosa is in that falling down church we saw in an early episode.

Ok, now back to trolling Reddit like one of those basement-living losers.

Annual Oscar Post

I’ve lost to Mike 3 years in a row… but I feel like this is my year!

Picture:

Will win- 12 Year

Should win- Her

Director:

Will win- Steve McQueen

Should win- Spike Jonze, who wasn’t nominated

Actor:

Will win- Leo DiCaprio

Should win- Chiwetel Ejiofor

Actress:

Will win- Amy Adams or Cate Blanchett

Should win- Dame Judy, always

Supporting Actor:

Will win, and should win- Jared Leto

Supporting Actress:

Will win- Lupita Nyong’o

Should win- ScarJo’s voice

Foreign Language Film:

Will win? The Great Beauty

Should win- I have no clue.

Best Adapted Screenplay:

Will win- 12 Years a Slave

Should win- Philomena?

Original Screenplay:

Will win and should win- Her

Animated:

Will win- Frozen

Should win- LEGO MOVIE

Production Design:

Will win- American Hustle

Should win- Her

Cinematography:

Will win and should win: Gravity

Makeup and Hair:

Will win and should win: BAD GRANDPA

Sound Mixing:

Gravity

Sound Editing:

Captain Phillips

Score:

Will win- Gravity

Should win- Her

Song:

Ordinary Love

Costume Design:

American Hustle

Film Editing:

Will win- Gravity

Should win- Captain Phillips

Documentary:

The Act of Killing

Documentary Short Subject:

The Lady in No. 6: Music Saved My Life

Animated short:

Get a Horse!

Live Action Short:

Avant Que De Tout Perdre

It’s official: I have learned the fuck out of the Japanese Hiragana alphabet. Please note this only took two years of on-off studying. Today, it just clicked. I cannot express how happy I am about this. SO HAPPY. Now I just have to learn the 48 katakana characters and about 10,000 kanji and I’ll be good to go!

It’s official: I have learned the fuck out of the Japanese Hiragana alphabet. Please note this only took two years of on-off studying. Today, it just clicked. I cannot express how happy I am about this. SO HAPPY. Now I just have to learn the 48 katakana characters and about 10,000 kanji and I’ll be good to go!