Morning, People.

Yesterday I had lunch with a woman fostering a child, who said that when woken up each morning the child would yell and if this was the case at four, what kind of person would they grow up to be? I answered that perhaps rather than interpreting the child’s blatting as an indication that she would be on the streets hooking at age 14, perhaps the kid just wasn’t a morning person. I have discovered that, over the years, I am not a morning person and this, added to the fact that I am too much of a human muppet and that would be just wrong - have led me away from the path of hooking. Your’e welcome, Los Angeles, although the nontaxable income would have been nice.

I remember visiting a married couple, back in my twenties, and my head was Matrix-ly spun around at the concept that someone could want to not talk to someone in the morning and it could be ok- even accepted - by the spouse. I woke up, saw the husband out on the balcony with a coffee and a newspaper and the wife, in the living room, perfectly happy and not talking to him, telling me: “He needs the first 45 minutes each morning by himself.”

What? One could get that? Ask for that? Receive that? And not be thought of as a/an (insert evil word here). Turns out, it’s true! In a recent relationship, first I didn’t know to ask for this and hurt the other person by being that (reinsert evil word again) and basically a big grump. Then we negotiated, and as long as they were first greeted in a sweet manner, I could then go on and be a grumpy huffalump for a set amount of time. Amazing!!!

Now single again, I have found ways to design the morning and actually like it, especially since for some reason, the gods, Baby Jesus, Allah, Hashem, etc… have deemed it necessary for me to wake up before 7am every morning whether I need it or not. I have managed to turn this into a pleasurable experience. Here’s the formula:

1. Get a job that doesn’t require you to show up until 11am. No needing to be nice to kids until it’s almost lunch time.
2. Wake up to kittens who FINALLY WAIT FOR YOU TO WAKE UP, and then play around your body and kiss your face till you smile. (Make sure you rotate them around a bit because if a kitten licks the same spot for too long, it gets all sandpapery and a hole develops in your cheek).
3. Walk to Coffee Bean with your laptop. Let the sun shine on you if you’re in Los Angeles, bring an umbrella if you’re in Seattle, and if you live in Chicago, do not leave your house until June.
4. Once at Coffee Bean, have the baristas so well trained that they know what you want and hand it to you, so you don’t have to speak. This is actually a sweet, simple pleasure and beckons back to a time when Norm could walk into Cheers and everyone called out his name.
5. Download your favorite TV shows on your computer and bring a headset.
6. Tune out the world and wake up slowly to other people’s dramas, comedies, time periods, etc. For me, it’s not reality shows, but old friends as you pour that caffeine (and water for hydration) into your awakening body.
7. Stop every now and then to write witty facebook comments and laugh by the witty comments your friends write back to you, and each other. Be proud of the wittiness of you and your friends.
8. By the time you’re done, Coffee Bean friends have shown up. You can exchange witticisms, inspirational messages and observations. They too are waking up and so you’re helping each other with brief interactions, building to deeper afternoon ones.
9. Walk back home listening to some boppy Paul Simon tunes on Pandora, preferably from the album he made in/about/with? Africans. “Diamonds on the soles of her shoes…” “You can call me Al.”
10. Go home, eat, do your rituals, and as you change into your Jew skirt for work, believe me, you’ll miss the morning and your jeans.
11. Sometimes I hike Runyon Canyon and belt out showtunes. This makes my morning fun but possibly no one else’s there.

All of this sets me up and puts me into that lovely mood for work that most people who have been teaching since 8am don’t understand. I go in ready to make my coworkers smile and laugh, tease a few kids and try to get in some teaching as well.

Hope this helps. If some of you go to work earlier, I suggest more coffee, more kitten kisses, - this is a crazy idea but some people seem to like exercise – or find someone like me who has had 5 hours to get in a good mood and exchange snarky comments.

Whoops- it’s almost 10 am. Gotta get back home.

“Me and Julio Down By The School Yard…”

The Marriage Of Head And Heart

Many children, myself included, find various difficulties growing up, a few heartaches, a multitude of “owies” and must therefore come up with different ways to cope and survive. One such way is retreating into the wonderful and amazing world of the head. Some children develop rich inner lives – exhilarating fantasies, worlds where things work out, they are the star and everything is safe. Some just become more head centered.

I am not sure what percentage of my life I spend in my head. Some will tell you 80%. A few upset exes might say 100%. And some mellow, non neurotic Jewish friends might say- wow, you’re really emotional- 30%. Apparently it’s subjective.

In my writing, I often come up with machine gun fire dialogue - “He’d say this then she’d say this and then he’d say this funny line, etc...” and later, when stopped by a wise mentor, it will be pointed out to me that in this situation, there would be a big emotional beat that I seemed to have missed. I then see it so clearly, but didn’t at first. And did I say writing? So many times in my conversations with people, I feel for them, but at the same time my mind whizzes at 100mph. Often, I assume, taking me away from the emotions?

One time I did a very controversial exercise where people had to enrage and almost choke you, while you opened up your heart and withstood it. When it was my turn, the minute someone placed their hands on my neck I fainted (and I’m not a fainter). I got up and tried again. Hands, drop. The facilitator came over and whispered in my ear, “Your heart and head are so separated.” I didn’t think, I just heard, and the next time, hands went on, my heart shone and I withstood. And when we all sat down, I suddenly burst into tears. It really hit me how separated and fragmented those parts of me could be.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love my fast-paced, witty mind. But I want to choose when to use it, not be used by it. I want to allow my heart to guide and inform me, open it up and be open to all that other hearts have to offer. The other night I listened to the first chapter of a book written by a friend and was very moved by the sensuality and emotional details of her writing. And I am committed to having that access for myself.

I am going to focus on the depth in my writing and decided to sit down today and write a blog about all this, from my heart. Be vulnerable, honest and share.

And as I write this, I think- the title of my blog- “What’s In My Head”- perhaps in time, may need to be altered. ☺

cliffnotes on 3 more pilots

Undercovers: I’m a little disappointed in one of my heroes, J.J. Abrams. I expect either high tech, amazing levels, great depth of character and/or humongous twists and turns. But this show, as sweet as it is, tries to be a lot of things all at once and kind of comes up short. I am glad we are seeing more diversity in prime time, but that in itself is not a hook. This is “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” but without the conflict of them being against each other. In fact, there’s little conflict at all. And the spy stuff is pretty basic. It’s a little slick, but it feels like a CSI type show was watered down for NBC. The married couple’s sweet, hot and has some nice banter but it’s just not enough. I’m feeling a little “Lost” here. I believe I stated my worries and while this show is sweet, cute and a bit slick, I don’t think I’ll stay tuned. I give it a B-.

The Event: Before, during and after watching this pilot, I kept having one thought in my head: “They cancelled Flashforward but put this on?” I thought Flashforward was cancelled because the networks didn’t want to pay a huge amount of money for a huge puzzle/event type of show. I was already into the characters, plots and cool premise of Flashforward. Now I have new people to get used to and watch another show throw a lot of high tech puzzle pieces into my head that I had to balance. I did it with “Lost” because the characters and storytelling was so rich. The Event feels like Flashforward and it also feels like V. It’s fun, I’ll try it again because it does set up mysteries and I want to unravel them. But for now, I liked Flashforward more. I give The Event a B+.

Sh-t My Dad Says: Oh I wanted to hate this. I wanted to know that you can’t make a show from a Twitter feed. I wondered how a string of foul thoughts could make for an actual show. Then I saw Mutchnik & Kohan, the creators of “Will & Grace” and I knew I was in trouble. While I can’t quite say I get the exact different point of view of William Shatner’s character and grumpy dad + out of work son living together is yet another incarnation of the “Odd Couple”, it had a bit of heart and a lot of good zingers. I’ll try it again and see how it makes its mark. I give it a B+.

My Cliffnotes on 4 new pilots:

Hawaii 5-0: This was a highly anticipated pilot, which I read beforehand and it actually delivers a few pleasant surprises that were not in the script, that only visuals and actors can add. I first watched an old episode of the original and was delighted to see it open with hippies protesting Viet Nam and then later see men in suits and ties solving crimes and a lot of tension around a man pulling out a gun. Ah, the high level of story, technology and suspense of crime dramas of the 60’s. Now, in this redux, we open with terrorism and have a plethora of explosions, technology that “The Wire” would envy and a guy in jeans and a tight tee solving murders. It’s fun and I am not into cop shows but I have to say Scott Caan is really good and adds some nice sensitivity. Papa James would be proud. Daniel Dae Kim (who I went to theater school for a semester with – only 30 of us) was underused in the pilot and I hope they punch up the depth of his role, but I loved the female. She is that nice combination of hot/cute who can really kick ass.

My worry: I’m not sure how a guy with a background in terrorism can work on one island in Hawaii season after season, but we’ll see. I give this an B+.

Mike & Molly: I wasn’t sure how I’d like this show about two heavy people meeting at OA and my fears were a little founded as I cringed at how many fat jokes peppered this pilot, but it also had some nice humor and sweet sensitivity. Strangely enough the heart came more from the male character than the female but both had great humor and pathos. I never heard of the male lead but I love me some Melissa McCarthy (who I was in a Groundlings class with and fondly remember being in her home, writing a sketch we acted in together- she was excellent) – and I hope this takes off. My Worry: Fat jokes make people uncomfortable, may not be enough of a premise, and besides that, these two make their first date in the pilot, so where’s the conflict and “Cheers” like ,“will they won’t they” sexual tension? I give it a B.

Lone Star: When I heard this was about a polygamist, I started thinking about “Big Love” and how incredible that show is, but this is very different- and equally intriguing. It had a lot of surprises, especially from the heart and abilities of the main actor, James Wolk. The main character is actually married in one Texas city, and has a girlfriend in the other. We assume he’s a sleazebag as it reveals he is a con man working with his sleazebag father, but as the pilot continues, a big surprise is how much the main character actually wishes he could go legit, is controlled by his father, loves two women and aches to make a home with one or both. The main actor is hot, slick, and by the end we actually sympathize with him and how much he just wants to be loved for who he is. I am also ashamed of myself for watching the whole pilot knowing I’d seen the wife before and then needing IMDB to tell me she was Tyra on one of my favorite shows, Friday Night Lights. Shame on me. My worry: I’m confused about it ending on him actually marrying a second woman- as that seems stupid for such a smart con man and illegal. He could’ve gone on the way it was for a while and saved that for a season finale. The pilot does not give us a reason for this; it seems to just want to end on a cliffhanger. It seems to have blown a lot of its wad in the pilot and could’ve spaced a few more elements out. But I’m hooked to keep watching. I give it an A-.

Outsourced: The reviews are right when they say that people have to get over the queasiness we feel, during a Recession, watching a show about giving away American jobs to India. The show is both funny and full of interesting characters, but the actual style is a little hard to pin down. A filmed comedy, it’s packaged and scheduled with “The Office” but doesn’t have the awkwardness or laughs per page of that show. It feels like a ¾ comedy and ¼ drama. The writers were brilliant when they came up with the company selling stupid American novelties because that gave it a lot of jokes and cultural issues to mine. The woman who barely speaks up is great and the payoff to that bit was both funny and heartwarming. My worry: Like “Mike & Molly” and the fat jokes, Outsourced will be cow and “the food will give you the runs” jokes over and over, and get a little tired. Not to mention it’s about stereotypes. We’ll see if this show has legs. I give it a B+.

I did not act with anyone on the show "Outsourced" but maybe my counterpart in India did.

September Morn...

September.

Ick.

The summer was fun. I played with all my friends, it was warm and nice and there were no grown ups telling me what to do. Now I have to get new clothes, supplies, wake up early, do my work and follow a whole bunch of rules and regulations. There are all these new faces- the place is new so I don’t know my way around – and I can’t believe we started in August. It’s not fair.

Yes, I’m a teacher.

By the end of June, when I know and love my kids and they know and love me, I send ‘em off, really enjoy them, let them in a little more. But September? Can’t tease ‘em yet because they have to know my ways and that I care first. Ah, who am I kidding? I tease them from day one. But I don’t know what they need individually yet- both academically and emotionally. I have to learn my way, their ways, and grow some young adults, all over again. From the top.

While that summer wind still blows in my ear, my hips don’t want to put on a skirt and my hand doesn’t want to clock in. But once I get there and see my buddies, and my kids’ little faces and the tiny evil one in preschool who once chased me with his tricycle, that’s another story.

September isn’t just the beginning of the school year- it’s the beginning of relationships.

And I know I’ll fall in love, just like I do, year after year.

But I can be just a little crabby.

Because after all, I have a whole new group of kids and parents to train – forget academics - it takes a little while before I’ve got them being as funny as I require. ☺

A Different Kind Of "Bucket List"

My mother had a stroke long before I was born. She was not incapable or anything, but she had a bad memory, which led to a bit of insecurity, and she lost her sense of smell. As hard as I tried to keep their marriage together at the tender age of 9 months, my parents still got divorced and my dad moved out. My older brothers followed after many years and from sophomore year on, I was the only one at home. At times I tried to talk about some of my issues, but a few relatives told me it was harder on them as they knew her before the stroke, and some who had left, didn’t really want to think about it. My mother had it rough, I felt I had to not take my stuff out on her, but where would I dump it? I needed a “bucket,” someone not involved, who could just hear my crap, let me get it out, and then it would flow through them. It wasn’t their problem anyway. And the one thing I learned from science is that “Matter is neither created not destroyed, it merely changes shape.” This meant that my anger, resentment and frustrations would come out some way, so why not into a figurative bucket, held by a good friend, emptied and reset for later?

I became sensitive to this issue of a “bucket.” For example, when a friend’s mother was dying of cancer, she had to be strong for her mother- and her father. And all of the family members had their own issues to deal with. So I told her I’d be her bucket. She could vent her feelings out to me, a person who loved her mother, but was more removed, so that she could go back and then be strong for everyone else again. I also did this recently with a friend whose wife was about to have a baby. The pregnant woman had it rough, and my friend had to deal with all of the craziness and frustrations, so I called every now and then and said, “How is it for you?” I held the bucket, my friend emptied, and then went back to being the supportive one.

So recently, I spoke to a 7th grade girl whom I love. Who has slightly “dramatic” reactions to issues in classes sometimes, and for a 7th grader, that’s normal, but her reactions get her in trouble. I told her about my bucket idea, and that if anything happened at school - like if she felt that a teacher was not being fair - for her to not explode, but to come to me, and I’ll hold the bucket. I would try (it is hard for me) not to try to fix it or advise her, but to just listen and hold it until it flowed away. She asked how it was that it flowed away, and I said, because I wasn’t emotionally involved, I could listen without getting triggered. We made that agreement and on the first day of school she used it.

On the third day of school, I had had some very challenging events occur, and was overwhelmed and feeling emotionally gutted. I went in early and thought of this girl, and how what I would want is one of her hugs. I found her and said, “I’m miserable and need a hug.” She gave me a hug and said, “Now I’m your bucket.” I smiled and said, “Yes, we’re bucket buddies.”

That reinvigorated me.

Perhaps we should all make a new kind of “Bucket List.”

Hawaii One-Oh. (Part 1- an Overview)

As some of you may know, the purpose of my trip to Hawaii was two-fold. First, was the experience of allowing myself a luxury vacation. In the past I have done courses or volunteered to get away, and about ten years ago I slung a backpack on my back and scoured Europe on my own, staying in hostels and doing it cheaply. So it was a big thing to plunk down money, not - as I thought - because I’m cheap, but because I’m cheap towards pampering myself. But I ignored any “you’re not worth it” old voices in my head and threw down the checkbook. And, as the universe often does, I made and received the money back. But that’s for another blog. Suffice it to say, thanks to “A Cruise World’s John Severson,” I, with the part-time job and beat up car, stayed in a Hawaiian resort, had clambakes by the beach, swam with Manta Rays and dolphins, ziplined and had a spa massage. And kept repeating “I deserve it” over and over. And when I came home to the day of my birth, continued this practice in a weekend devoted to my wants and requests - thanks to all who made that possible. I love you. And if, as I was told, the way you celebrate your birthday sets the tone for your year- this one will be about me treating myself very well.

The second part of the Hawaiian trip was that it was a vacation course. The course was by Landmark education, entitled: “Transforming Yesterday’s Strategies.” In this course, 32 of us convened each day for a couple of hours and discussed gender, our formulative years, stories we made up to cope as young people, what it means to be a man, or a woman, the strategies and stereotypes we put in place and to shares stories of growing up, puberty, etc. Not only was this amazing to free me from certain constraints and stories, not only did this bond our group immensely, not only did I gain more insight into how hard it is for men and for women in this world, but perhaps, I can now begin this new year of teaching boys and girls (separately) in 6th grade- right in the thick of all of this confusion, and although I might not discuss the details, I have more compassion and understanding, love and support for them exactly where they are and offer more acceptance and stability to them during this hard phase. It will also help my sanity when the girls roll their eyes all the time and the boys beat each other with vocabulary books – to know they are just being human.

What jewel can I give my readers from my trip? One of the biggest things I learned was to stop for a moment, when communicating with others, and not think of them as man, woman, etc. But what if I just granted everyone being and listened to them as “person”? Perhaps I wouldn’t put them in boxes, bring in my stereotypes, pull my old strategies with dealing with men and women, and miracles will appear. Try it out. It’s my gift to you.

I got so much out of the whole trip – I can’t imagine a better way to do a vacation - and look forward to next year’s Transforming Yesterday’s Strategy II luxury vacation - an Alaskan Cruise-where we discuss all types of long term relationships.

Thank you for reading, persons.

Beverly.

The Transformation of Young People

So as many people know, I have been involved with Landamrk Education since about 1996. Landmark has helped to give me tools to communicate, keep my past in my past, be present and create any future I want. It has helped me learn to get into other people's worlds, see their views, get the difference between things that have happened vs. my perception over things that happened. And it has also given me some of the most amazing friendships on the planet.

I have coached self expression and leadership programs, taken courses, etc. But this past weekend I volunteered to assist at the Landmark Forum for Young People- for kids ages 8-12, with a few 7 year olds as well. Of course I focussed on how horrible it was to get up so early, how my feet ached, etc. But that's what I do to not be present. And when I was, I got some amazing insights and the profound honor of helping young people avoid struggling and suffering for 20+ years as many of us adults have. They now have the power to realize that their thoughts control their reality and to change and monitor those thoughts in order to have a life of possibility, happiness and love.

One of the hardest things for me to be present to, as a teacher, was walking into a room full of 70 kids and seeing them all fidget, twist in their seats, talk and chomp on their name tags. I was incensed. They weren't listening! But through the coaching of one of the leaders, I got that it was I who wasn't listening. To who they are. When I told a woman that I preferred high school kids because they could sit still I saw that sitting still and "behaving", with your mouths closed and your hands in your laps, is the result of having your self expression squashed. I remember that in my own courses, I tap my foot, want to check my phone and sometimes poke my friends. And that little people who twist and fidget are actually self expressed. When they completely behave and never make a peep - they may have lost the light inside of them.

Now this is just one interpretation, but it's one that allows me to be, in my classroom, with kids the way they are. I think back to this one boy in one of my classes who moved around the back of the room and stood up a lot. He never talked or disturbed anyone and his parents had told me that he needed to do that. And yet I still saw that as "bad behavior." But if a child needs to move, and can do it for him or herself and not distract the other students, then they may just be expressing themselves and taking care of what they need. And it is not a personal failure on my part that they're not completely and deathly quiet with hands in their laps and glazed, obedient eyes.

This weekend when the participants' parents went to their own session they looked at what a "perfect parent" would be and filled a board with all their judgements, opinions and comparisons and saw that this got in the way of them just being with their children. It made me look at how hard I was on myself with my own images of what the "perfect teacher" would look like.

We saw how we all just have different views and the benefits of eliminating "right and wrong" from our minds and just seeing that we all have different views. And it good to often look at situations from the other's point of view.

And after all the fidgeting and talking and me worrying that these young people "just didn't listen or get it" I witnessed, at the end, these little ones get up, face their parents and each state a possibility for their lives, what they could be counted on for, what they were giving up and what they wanted to acknowledge their families for. And I saw that from 7-12 they each got it. And their parents were all teary eyed as their young ones said they were inventing such things as the possibility of courage, happiness and love; could be counted on to do chores, take care of their little brothers and sisters and go to college; they'd give up anger, boredom, bad attitudes and loneliness; and they acknowledged their families for loving, caring and supporting them no matter what.

So in the end, after escorting kids to the bathroom, making snacks, setting up a room and running microphones, it was the greatest privilege of all to be in the presence of these future leaders, knowing all the lives they would touch, move and inspire for the rest of their long and beautiful lives.

Goodbye Tudors. (A Rated PG-14 blog for sexual content)

As we say goodbye to “The Tudors” for the second time (the first was over 400 years ago) I am filled with mixed feelings. I loved the show and yet also had a few issues with it, the least of which was that I kept watching, hoping to learn things I could bring into my Middle Ages Class that I taught to 7th grade Orthodox Jewish boys, but with lovely scenes like the one where Henry whacked off while the “Royal Spluge Catcher” held the royal spluge bowl under him, I saw that this was not to be. I also wondered what that guy told his son’s class on Career Day. “Well, Harold, the King has certain stresses he needs to let go of and daddy… um… catches it.”

Besides the amazing employment opportunities that we don’t even consider in this Recession world, I have two other beefs (or muttons) with the show.

1. It’s called “The Tudors” and yet it starts and ends with Henry VIII. This really pisses me off. Hollywood has taught me that he had a few other kids and they took over, so why end with his death? It should be called “Henry VIII And His Serious Romantic Issues” since that’s all it was about. And it let me down. I know I can rent “Elizabeth” and see what comes next but all the “Darrening” (see previous blog) and having different actors play all the parts would confuse me. Come on Showtime, a few more seasons to show the Tudors, not just Henry.

2. And I share this anger with a nice Irish beautician: For four seasons Henry has had many mistresses and wives (and believe me, it was better to be a mistress) and each time, it was hot and sexy, and he was hot and sexy and there really was no reason for the Royal Spluge Catcher because, well… apparently that was the woman’s role… but I digress. What the Irish beautician and I vehemently agreed on, was that whenever we watched those scenes we pulled ourselves out (no pun intended) and said, “But it wasn’t like that at all!” I’ve seen photos. He was fat and bearded and always had a chicken leg in his hand. And what she informed me was – not only that but also he had an infected leg that always pussed out and he smelled really, really rank. So now I think back to all of those hot, steamy scenes and rethink them as him fat, pussing, smelly, and where did he put the chicken leg? He wasn’t Jonathan Rys Myer (spelling?) – who by the way, waited until the last two episodes to actually age – he was Dick Cheney.

Years ago my big brother Evan did what all big brothers do and shattered my illusions that TV and movies will tell you exactly what happened in history when he told me the movie “Mobsters” wasn’t true. “No, Beverly, all those Mafia guys didn’t know each other and hang out together when they were really hot teens.” As a Jew, this was my version of – “There is no Santa Claus.” What? Meyer Lansky wasn’t really hot? So I approached “The Tudors” with a bit of a discerning eye as I had with the miniseries “Rome.” But with both I enjoyed getting a sense of the time, place and costumes as well as how seriously people of the past took religion. “The Tudors” was a fun ride that I think shouldn’t have ended. I think the really hot Mary should continue on along with that kid with buck teeth they got to play Elizabeth. I wonder how many little actors would play Edward who only lived to be 15.MY point is - if they can spin “Joanie Loves Chachi” from “Happy Days” and “Gloria” from “All In The Family” why won’t some station take over this show and call it “Tudor Me” ?

Anyone?

My Ayahuasca Experience - As Much as I can Describe

The shaman prepared a booklet for us in advance and it stated:

"Above all else, this Journey will be about Spirit and deepening our connection to the world of Spirit. Partaking of the indigenous healing medicines can offer an acceleration into the spiritual world that is profound and very real."

Although some friends said: "I looked it up and you're going to poop and puke simultaneously."

One friend said it was an amazing experience and he shared some incredible things with me.

My friend who brought me goes monthly and says it cured her of cocaine addiction.

On "Weeds" it looked horrible but Mary Louise Parker looked very pretty.

So I didn't know what to expect.

I'd love to be able to explain it all but I can't as some things are to be experienced. And everyone's experience is different, even in the room last night. Also they say you will gain wisdom and that is hard to share. Knowledge can be explained. Wisdom sometimes can't.

That said I will state the process, a few things I realized and how I feel today.

After following a strict purifying regimen for a few days, about 21 people gathered in this couple's home. Why they would open their homes to 21 people who just may poop or puke, god knows. But then when we were all sleeping on the floor and they retired to their bedroom, I almost wanted 21 people to hurl in my home, just so I could lay on my comfy mattress. But to just let you know, some hurled, some didn't, no one pooped. And we all were told to bring buckets. That's right, folks, buckets.

So we all made our little camps, got to know each other, and were introduced to the shaman, and the shaman's even more shamanic friend from Peru - Tito. Tito spoke no English but didn't have to. He fluttered like a bird and emanated love and warmth. So did the American Shaman.

We met each other, I was surprised that I knew one person from television, and my friend set up a space next to me and brought out all her little articles that she brings, since this was her 15th time. Apparently she needed lip balm and a mint since the medicine was very nasty tasting. It is referred to as medicine, not drugs. I can get that. Especially the day after.

I did a thumbs up to the lady across who also was doing it to for the first time, and the ceremony began. There's so much that occurred and I can write about it but that won't do the experience justice. We all drank (it was nasty) simultaneously and then these big hearted men sang, danced and somehow intuited our every need. My friend warned me that the taste was nasty and the waiting until it took effect was also not her favorite part. I waited and closed my eyes. The lights were out and music often played.

For a while I assumed it didn't work. Then I saw little purple things. I figured this wasn't such a big thing. Then my thoughts turned to clay. That's the best way to explain it. What wasn't too enjoyable was the sound of other people enjoying their buckets, what was enjoyable were some amazing moments of vision and feeling. At one point Tito grabbed my right leg and shook it and talked in Spanish. It was only after that I realized it had been shaking on its own. He also touched my head and heart (literally) and I got caught up in the music (remember, it's dark and we're all closing our eyes.) I went through a lot, but mostly judgements of how I thought it was supposed to go and I gave those up. I wanted to hurl- "la purga" - because it signified a huge release, but I didn't. And then I just told the medicine to do what it was supposed to without my preconceptions. And it did. Some of it didn't feel well or look pretty, some did. I finally gave in to some sleep afterwards, but I got one thing for sure: I, a literal writer person, expected healing and release to be literal. Like, I'd see my mother, yell at her and let it go. That was how I thought healing went. It didn't. What I got were a lot of jumbles and visions and symbols and such. And what I really got was that I don't have to understand healing, just trust it's taking place. And it did.

Because when I woke up, even with little sleep, I felt better, more content, present and balanced than I have in months. My chronic hip pain wasn't there. My headache was gone. I felt good. Strangely enough, after being told not to eat after 1pm yesterday, at 7am today all the contributions for a light, healthy breakfast didn't appeal to me. It is now 3:32 and I haven't eaten much or wanted to. We spent the morning watching the shaman be amazing with a woman who had a not so good experience after drinking twice, and then we went around and shared what we got. It was incredible. I asked a translator to help me ask Tito why he shook my foot, and he said my right side called to him. That I had problems with masculine energy and that made a lot of sense. I have been running myself crazy on work, work and more work without nurturing my feminine side- my heart. This also explained why my left shoulder seized up. He worked on me in the morning and opened my heart up more. He is a very beautiful man, that Tito.

Many others are doing another journey tonight and part of me envies them. I would like to go deeper and push myself through the "portal" since a lot of my first time was about battling with my head and judgements. But tomorrow is the 8th grade Orthodox Jewish girls' play and since I didn't know what to expect, I decided to have Saturday to recuperate so I wouldn't rush from a two day journey onto the stage in the middle of act two and puke and swat imaginary pineapple people. (Pineapple people was an actual share by someone of what she saw. That made me happy).

I am proud of myself for my commitment to self growth, to facing fears and to taking an adventure. It wasn't all fun but I will do it again.

Thank you for letting me share.

TV Finales - got some spoilers here

My ex roommate used to make fun of me for many things. One of which was how I saved TV series' finales forever, not wanting to see how things ended, and then I never saw them. This happened with "Oz," one of the great early HBO dramas that many people might not have watched probably because they assumed if it was a prison drama it was either boring (people sitting around in a cell) or a lot of tushie rape. It actually went beyond both. And I liked it so much that I saved the finale for a long time (back on good ol' VHS) until one day I realized I'd lost it. To this day I've never seen it. Now, many years later I realize I will have to rewatch about two seasons or so because I forgot a lot of it. Which is fine with me, as it will be all spankin' new again.

So now I watch all my season and series finales, as bittersweet as they are. But it's hard to say goodbye to old friends, families and worlds I've grown accustomed to. I still remember how sad it was to watch the final Cosby Show. That is, the second Cosby show. Between "Fat Albert" and the one where he has the same wife but he's old. And not counting something called "The Cosby Mysteries." I'm talking about the good one. With the great family, humor, strange new characters at the end, big jazz numbers and really, really 1980's sweaters. That was a hard goodbye.

Seinfeld, not a hard goodbye. In fact, kind of a tepid goodbye, but anyone following "Curb Your Enthusiasm" will note that they manned up and made good on that one. Recently I rewatched the Friends finale and got a little weepy, and did you know the Mash finale is still (I believe) one of the most watched episodes in TV history? Try that one without a handkerchief.

One hour dramas can be even more painful. Especially when they pull a "Chuck" (see my earlier blog) and just rip it off the air without you knowing to say goodbye. I wasn't quite a fan of Heroes towards the end but it certainly would have been nice if they had known it was the end so they could go out with a bang instead of just another episode, assuming they had another year or two. Goodbye Heroes.

This week I watched a few finales - one of every type:

1. The season finale of American Idol. Not a hard goodbye at all, but for the second year in a row, they got it wrong and I favor the second place winner. Adam Lambert and Crystal Bowersox are much more compelling than Kris Allen and Lee Dewize. But as I stated in an earlier blog, that's what comes of young girls controlling the voting in this country. It was a series finale in the fact that it was Simon's goodbye. In fact it seemed like a show about Simon, where in the end, they decided "Oh, we should also crown a winner." What was sadder than Simon's tributes was Paula Abdul contributing to the tribute, constantly reminding us that she never got one. Goodbye Simon. Belated goodbye, Paula.

2. A harder finale was Flashforward. This was hard because I loved this show, I click on ten websites a day to try to save it, but it has been yanked off the TV set without my permission. As seen above, since I am over 16, my vote on TV shows apparently doesn't count, I guess. While this wasn't a perfect show (I often tune out at quantum physics meets Nazis meets birds dying in Somalia) I thought the concept of knowing your fate and what that does to people and relationships - was excellent. And I wanted to see a post flash forward world and the next one. Bad. Goodbye Flashforward?

3. And the hardest finale of the week was Lost. Like Flashforward, this had physics meets hatches meets a lot of C4 explosives and a smoke monster but it had seven seasons to make us REALLY come to care for the characters and the relationships. You'd have to go through the whole journey to make it count but boy was this ending a weeper. And smart. And I think I get most of it, but not all. I'll look up other blogs so people can tell me what to think. :) Goodbye Lost.

What I am present to right now, is how powerful journeys and good character pieces are and how much I want my writing to matter to people the way these shows have mattered to me. I have written quite a few scripts in the past years, and recently wrote a statement of purpose for a TV writing program and now, after watching these shows, I really feel what I wrote in it. How important it is to put quality, inspirational, humorous, moving experiences on the air, so through entertainment, we can all become better people.

To the shows that came before, thank you. To the ones that are coming, including any I pen- take from the best and let's continue to broadcast the best of all of us.

Now off I go to watch the season finale of Nurse Jackie and wait for the series finale of the Tudors.*


*If this is really a show about the Tudors, then why is it only about Henry VIII? Why not continue the next seasons about his kids- who are Tudors? And I have many other questions as well, the least of which is why Henry never really ages and is really handsome? We've all seen the pictures, folks.

My Meeting with CBS and then a whole lot of digressions.

Well, thank you well-wishers. The CBS meeting that Pranav and I attended was really excellent. Now I can drop that and concentrate on the other 12 things with deadlines. It is very hard to read CBS pilots, watch CBS shows and then work on an Orthodox 8th grade Jewish girls' play about tznius (dressing modestly). I told the CBS executive I should write "CSI: Jerusalem- Modesty Squad" but I don't think they'll buy it. This is why we have separate file cabinets in our head, and when they crisscross it gets a little crazy. Like when I was writing the Jewish play while also co-penning an Alcatraz short film and outlining a cop/supernatural pilot. I had dreams of Orthodox girls trying to escape from Alcatraz but they had to do it before sundown on Shabbat or else they'd turn into werewolves.

Have I mentioned my brain continues to hum and that sleeping is a bit difficult?

I am already an overly anxious person so the concept of a CBS meeting at 5pm and a flight to San Francisco at 8pm really started the day well. I also had to read scripts, re-read our script, fed ex a poster for this conference in San Fran this weekend while also trying to find the nearest TOGO's. They make this amazing bbque chicken wrap. This was all after rehearsing with the 8th grade girls Monday and getting a massage on Tuesday.

I would like to discuss this massage for a moment now:

I wanted to nurture myself but for some reason my massages, (and I'm not rich, I paid for 5 last summer and forgot) never soothe me. The people whack the crap out of my newest old lady hip and butt pains and I feel like I've been through a grinder. Why is it if a friend or loved one gives me a massage, it feels pleasurable, relaxing and I make purring noises, but when I get it done professionally I suddenly call out to the Christian god, as I grab the toilet-looking thing you stick your face in and pound my fist on the sides of the table? And I didn't even get the really scary ninja lady. I was abused by a woman named Heather. Heathers aren't supposed to physically abuse you. They're just supposed to mentally abuse you in high school 80's films.

But I digress from my digression.

Did I mention that as soon as I got out of the massage on Tuesday I got a call that my 4pm CBS meeting (before my 8pm flight) needed to be moved to Thursday? So I tensed up and worked the phones. Now I really needed a massage. (Or Christian Slater and Winona Ryder to protect me when I see Heather again.)

So here I am, I made my flight, after my lovely writing partner rushed me over to LAX. I wish we could have asked CBS for a siren to stick on our car from one of their maaaaaany cop shows, but alas, I thought that might not go over as well as my Jerusalem comment.

I am now spending a day with my beloved brother, and then on to The Conference For Global Transformation, which I'm very excited about. I get to be with a lot of people talking about inspirational plans and goals for the planet.

And then back to LA to continue working on NYPD Jew.

From Celebrities to Revolution

I'm really worried that celebrities won't be able to fly on airlines.

First, Kevin Smith was too fat and now I discover that Jonathan Rhys-Myer was too drunk.

(http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/05/14/jonathan-rhys-meyers-bann_n_576218.html)

What's the world coming to when Henry Tudor is banned from traveling?

What with all of the price increases and all, they're the only ones who can afford to fly.

So who will?

First, we lost our free food service. Then we were charged for an extra checked baggage. Then any checked baggage. And now one of the cheapest airlines is beginning to charge for carry-ons?

When my friend and I flew to NY, American Airlines made us each pay for our checked luggage and then accidentally put both of them on another flight. We waited in the airport for 2 hours late at night and finally got them. At the end of the trip we both asked to be reimbursed. This was denied.

So we pay for a service that they don't really have to provide well?

I have flown to San Francisco 5 times this year and prided myself for always sticking everything into one big bag I can stuff above my seat and then just hold my laptop. I was so good at this. I didn't know any other George Clooney, "Up In The Air" professional tips but this I could do. Next weekend when I go back I'm on United and will try to stick it all in the compartment above me but I have to bring one of those presentation conference tri-fold up doohickey posters and don't think I can stuff that in my jacket pocket.

In August I'm going to Hawaii on the aforementioned $$#@$@#!!! American Airlines and I don't think I can stuff all my Hawaii gear for a week's vacation into one bag.

And if they decide to charge for carry-ons, well then, I'll have to wear all my clothes in layers on the plane.

But then, like Kevin Smith, I'l be too fat.

This will make me depressed and I'll drink. And get into a fight. And then, like Henry the 8th, I'll be banned.

So since the airlines are charging us for too much without our consent, I ask you all to rally, climb on a plane and as you pass over the oceans, dump tea into them.

And since it's about tea and airlines will call this movement "The T & A party!"

Who's with me?

May Madness

The Month of May is the season for drama. Staffing season for TV, 8th grade Orthodox Jewish girls and therefore, my life.

I have been working very hard, readying for "staffing season." The time when you submit your TV scripts to shows who are staffing their writers for next year. My partner and I had an original pilot and a sample of "The Mentalist" ready by February, as that's when it began. And our manager has submitted our work and all is well. We had a few meetings already and I assumed the meeting season was Feb till about July, since most shows gear up in August, to present them to you fine folks in September.

I was wrong.

While I was in the middle of tutoring a 6th grader, my manager emailed me that my partner and I had a meeting with CBS (YAY CBS!) next Friday the 14th. Then I informed her that my partner was in India (BOO INDIA) till the 18th. To which she informed me that meeting season was in May. May! Within the staffing season there was just a month long meeting season and it's a pretty small window. Kind of like the one my writing partner was looking out of as he flew away for 2 of the 4 weeks of meeting season. Whew. We finally found a good day for the meeting but still, we were in a pickle. (What an odd saying. How did it start? Why that preposition - "in" a pickle? Who gets trapped inside of a pickle?) But with some creative mental elbow grease, we will make it work.

The other season that May contains is "8th grade girls learn acting, dancing, singing, and rehearse and put up a play" season. Previously, the 8th grade girls at the Jewish school I teach at, has had a play written by a lovely Jewish woman. And there were usually about 8-12 girls in the class. This year I was asked to help pen a play for 20 girls, based on a book about Tznius (dressing and acting modestly) that they could perform. It was based on a series of diaries that were not already in play structure. As I sat in my thong and miniskirt, picking my teeth with bacon covered toothpicks, I set to the task of writing a very Orthodox Jewish girl play. Actually, I took the top 3 writers in the 8th grade class, came up with a structure and had them write it. Or so I thought,

And then I wrote a lot more. And rewrote. And rewrote. And rewrote. And it was April. And the play was supposed to be in May. But it came together like lox and a bagel and I realized that this was boot camp for when I am staffed on a show. I will have crazy deadlines, input from everyone, actors waiting, and a tight production schedule. So I'm quite grateful for the process. And I also know from experience that when I see them acting, singing and dancing, and most importantly,when my little writers see THEIR OWN writing on the stage, it will definitely be worth it.

So May is a crunch time for these girls. They got the script and are learning songs, dances, lines, and so much more, ready to go up on June 6. They are working their hearts out and yes, they complain a bit (they're 13 and 14 year old girls after all...) but they're under the gun and it is, after all, just for the month of May.

Like staffing season.

So for now, I direct the girls, wait for calls about meetings, change a flight for $200 so I can meet with the lovely CBS people, and it's an exciting time.

To paraphrase the classic comedy, "Airplane":

I think I picked a hell of a time to cut down on sugar.

Perhaps It's A Good Thing I Don't Have Kids

I remember once, on “Frasier” before Niles had a kid they told him to practice with a sack of flour first, to see how he’d do. He left the sack everywhere, it ripped, spilled and was pretty emaciated by the end of the test. So maybe the flour was an indication that he shouldn’t be a dad.

And if my kittens are any indication of my abilities as a parent of little humans, then it’s probably good I don’t have any.

First, allowed to name the first one, I dubbed the little fellow, “Prince Stanley Fuzzbucket III.” Yes, I know there were no other Fuzzbuckets before him but it added a bit of sophistication to this little scratchy street-born baby.

So issue number one: If given the chance to name my own child, you can bet little Farnsworth Dingus would get his ass kicked up and down the schoolyard.

The next was our second kitten. A lovely girl named Isabelle. Until three weeks later, when the vet informed us that Isabelle was not a girl. Now, many months later, little Isaboy delights us with his fanciful ways.

So issue number two: If you thought my first child would get his ass kicked, my second child, “It’s Pat” would definitely have to take boxing lessons to make it through our public school system.

Which brings me to my next point. My male cat children are not masculine. At all. In one day, Fuzzy was running around with the rainbow gay flag in his mouth while Isaboy was playing with ponytail holders and (unused) tampons.

More ass kicking.

Next: The older one has some odd health issues and the little one isn’t the sharpest bulb in the shed. Fuzzy, again, off the street, scratched, had a cold, no eyebrows and gum problems – all before age 1. Now he may have asthma, and the gum problem? I was told he might have been exposed to herpes, possibly through his mother. HERPES???? Apparently Fuzzy is the son of the town whore (by his BIOLOGICAL mother, not me). This tainted for life, son of a harlot also doesn’t take pills very well. He spits them up, producing a Santa Claus beard of drool- that disgusts me and I have to sop him up with a paper towel as I do this. Yech.

And as the poster boy of Health Reform is doing all this, my little genius, Isaboy watches a blank TV set. I mean it’s off. And he gets on top of it, looks down and stares at nothing. He also chases his tail. Over and over again. Each time, I think he is sure that he’s going to capture that odd foreign object. Definitely. Oh, but just when I think Fuzzy is the smart one, we changed to a hypoallergenic litter for Fuzzy’s possible asthma, and he started eating it. Even Baby Einstein knew what it was, pissed on it and yet Fuzzy still went back for seconds.

So in summation: It’s a good thing I didn’t birth humans, because other cats don’t see these two prizes and can’t kick their little furry tushies all over the schoolyard. But if they’d been human children, these little asthmatic, transgendered, addle-brained kids with odd names and who would eat out of the school toilets- would never have a chance.

But maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe it’s nature, not nurture.

I’d just have to make sure I didn’t get my kids off Craig’s List.

Debunking Two Popular Sayings

There are a few sayings and adages that have stood the test of time, and someone might ask, "Who are you to debunk them?" But of course I must answer, "Who am I not to debunk?" So debunk I go. I've always been a bit of a maverick, an "off the beaten path kinda girl" if you will. Remember, I don't like "Glee" and as a child, I didn't like the musical "Cats." And I love me some Broadway musicals and cats. But I didn't like 'em together. Just like I love superhero outfits and bedrooms, but don't wanna see one in there. But i digress.

Saying # 1: "Do Unto Others As You Would Like Done Unto You."

Hogwartswash. They say in this economy that gold doesn't drop in value, but this little Golden Rule, my friend, just doesn't work. Instead, I propose you ask others what it is they actually want and then "Do Unto Others What They Actually Want Done To Them" to be the new mantle. While we all agree that it's the "thought that counts," sometimes your thought needs to be transferred into an action. For example, in many cases, men and women are different. Quite a few males believe that if they have a problem, what they would like would be to fix it. So one day a man hears his lady love in a crisis and quickly tells her solutions. Does she want that? Possibly not. She may want sympathy, to be heard, held, etc. (I'm not stereotyping - just giving an example.) I never read a book called "The Five Languages Of Love" but I feel qualified to refer to it. People have different needs and want to be taken care of in different ways. If I'm upset and what would hit the spot would be an episode of "Modern Family," ice cream and a cat, should I try provide those to the next bloke with a conflict? I say, "Nay." So have that thought of helping, think what you would want done unto you if you'd like and then ASK the person what they need. 'Nuff said.

Saying # 2: "Time Is Money."

False. While I might not have a business head (see a future blog on "Making Real Estate Deals with Gay Shamen") I am very sure that this formula is inadequate. I state that they are inversely proportional to each other. (Now if you don't remember, that's opposing). For example: If I need to go to San Francisco and see my beloved brother Joe, I could spend time and save money by taking a bus, or save time and spend money by taking a plane. If they did equal each other I wouldn't have to choose so often.

While these are tried and true statements, I also heard a take on a lesser known one to also debunk, while we're at it. At the musical "Urinetown" (it was better than "Cats!") which was corny, a father saw his daughter walk into his office and he stated:

"Hope! What an unexpected surprise!"

To which she replied:

"Is there any other kind?"

How true and so simple, I wonder why it had never been pointed out to me before. I told this to friends and a gay male friend (not the Shaman) commented, "Yeah, it's like "assless chaps. Chaps are always assless." I'm not so sure it's the same thing, but I respect that thought and promise never to say, "My, I'm parched. I need some assless chapstick."

Please respond with some favorite quotes and sayings you too might want to debunk.

I'm Sorry GLEE, It's Not You. It's Me.

Right now I'm watching Glee for the umpteenth time, trying to like it and I just can't. The songs are fun and of course I like Jane Lynch, but it's too cartoony. And not funny cartoony. In fact I'm so not into it that I'm blogging during it. I am sorry America. I know I'm supposed to like this and Cougartown and Community, but I don't. And worst of all, the most unforgivable crime one can commit -I don't like "30 Rock." What? I know. It's like being the one person who didn't love "Cats." I am told I AM Tina Fey and of course I want to be into the Emmy winners, but I have tried and tried but it too feelts a bit cartoony and Trace Morgan annoyed me away. And yes, America, I have given them chances. Time after time.

I like shows with stories, relationships and complexities. Lost had me at episode four for character development. Brothers & Sisters got me through a tough time. I cried with those Walkers and felt better about my life. At least my father didn't have an affair, one, maybe two love children that my brother then meets, discovers is not his sister and married… Did I say the shows I like were realistic? Either they're dramatic and have many levels (I trust you with my life, HBO), or it's really way out there (God bless The Office and Family Guy - both of which took a while for me to get into.)

Why do I stick with some of these shows and then I change my opinion and like them, and other times I don't? Well, I have my own strange, quirky tastes. But it's not just me giving up, We should also ask how come both America and the networks give some shows a longer time to find an audience than others? Some shows grow on you. Some they snip before they bloom.

My brother, Joe (I mention him from time to time) asked me why, when both shows weren't doing well when they debuted, "Seinfeld" lasted and became a cult fave, but Chris Elliott's "Get A Life" lasted 2 seasons and then tanked. Both went on the air in 1990. Neither did very well. He believes that Seinfeld became a "hit" around season five and the other show (He loved it, I remember it about a grown paperboy living with his parents) died after two seasons. I told him about character likability, politics, marketing and even where they are put in the lineup. Maybe it's on at a sucky night or time. And we all have our war stories. I can't believe they killed "My So Called Life", "Jack and Bobby", "Studio 60 On The Sunset Strip" and by now they've yanked "The Deep End." (On a trivial note, Matt Long was on both "Jack & Bobby" and "The Deep End"). These were good dramas.

So, if the network gods keep a show on the air for a while, how long will it take for me to know if it's meant for me or not? ot?

I think I used to ask this question about relationships.

Hmm.

So perhaps it's not Glee's fault. I'm just scared to open up and let it in.

From Dwarves to Passover Wigs

I just came from a meeting at Disney and I had the best time. Tomorrow I go back to teaching Jews.

Last year around this exact time, or a little earlier, I also had a meeting with Disney. And then went back to teaching Jews.

I remember this because I walked onto the studio lot last year on a sunny morning, with Starbucks in hand, and saw a huge beautiful doorway flanked by statues of dwarves. I was overcome with happiness. How great would it be to wake up every morning and be greeted by that? Or walk down "Dopey Street" and hang a left at "Sleepy Drive"? You bet I'd whistle while I worked. That meeting had been with a friend from film school who brought me in to discuss concepts for a Disney channel show. I had fun, pitched some stuff, talked creativity, then drove from there to work, at an Orthodox Jewish school, changing into my requisite long skirt, with my clavicle, ankles and elbows covered and arrived to see a notice in the office that said:

"Passover Wigs on Sale."

Now I have nothing against Passover wigs. I didn't even know they existed, or that when Moses split the Red Sea it would one day be celebrated in such a manner, and I'm always in favor of a good sale- no that was not it. It's just that I had wanted to be in entertainment all my life, and it was a very jarring moment to go from dwarves to Passover wigs in the span of an hour.

Again, nothing against where I work or its customs. I love the people, I love affecting kids' lives, I love the free coffee. And most especially I love going in every day and making people laugh or smile. That's really what my job has been this year and I have embraced it. Years ago, when I was a teacher at Compton High a friend told me once, "Beverly, just for one year, why don't you try teaching and admit that you like it?" I had a hard time with that. Back then I'd wanted to be an actor. And I might have taught drama and produced musicals and changed peoples' lives, but I'd had this dream and I wasn't living it. The dream has since changed from acting to writing, and I have changed from The Hood to the Hebrews, but I still have that dream - and it is now to write for a one hour top television show. At the same time, this year I have admitted that I love making people happy and making a difference. And I do that with my classes, coworkers, friends and writing. But i still have this dream.

So today my writing partner and I went to Disney, met with the world's nicest exec, and had a really fun time. When he talked about what shows we liked, what shows we would want to write for and what we could add to it, I was in heaven. I hope I do get staffed. I hope I get to be on a show and be creative and make a difference and educate and enlighten and make more people laugh and be inspired.

And tomorrow, when I return to my Jewish school I will be glad to see the community I've come to love. And the kids who make me laugh, and the creative programs I've helped create, and the friends I share wonderful sarcastic moments with. Did I mention we have trees? And I love my bosses? I am very lucky.

Although the Passover wigs may be at an even better price now because Passover is over ( all the Easter candy is now at 1/2 price) and I didn't see any dwarves today (it was the ABC building) I will be happier going back to work this time.

I am closer to my dream than I've ever been and I am also quite happy on this strange and odd path I'm already on to get there.

By 2030 All People Will Do What They Love and Love What They Do.

This is my impossible promise to the world. It is who I am; it is what I bring to the table.

I am in a year long course called “Power & Contribution” and it meets in San Francisco 5x this year, culminating in a “Conference on Global Transformation” in May. There are over 150 people in this course, from all over the world, and they also have their promises as well. We even have a Facebook page dedicated to this conversation. It is the one without photos of babies and cats and what celebrity we look like.

I had resistance to signing up for this course. I didn’t want to fly out to San Francisco 5x, it was expensive, I’d have to take off from work… but then I got that my main resistance was in being powerful and in being a contribution. And I was using, as always, time and money as my excuses not to do something great. So I leaped. I signed up, not knowing how to pay for it and miracles appeared. I won a teleplay contest that paid 2 ½ x what the course cost. I found friends to share the hotel rooms and most importantly, I came early each time and made sure I saw my brother Joe before each weekend. And that has been one of the biggest contributions of this course yet. I had not seen him for two years. Now I have seen him 3x already. Often he picks me up at the airport and we catch up and also engage in dialogue about this course and what it provides. And I have to say, one of the biggest things I have gotten out of this course, is my brother. And that’s worth the world.

Tomorrow night I meet with two people who are planning to do this course and I made a summary of some of the teachings and some personal lessons I have taken away for myself. For four weekends so far, I have watched 150+ humans from all over the world take on their petty problems and their mighty ones- all of the distractions and obstacles that get in the way of each of us being extraordinary people. I have watched a blind woman serenade a man on his birthday, a 60+man finally let go of the pain of his childhood and now come from strength. I saw a Vietnam Vet finally forgive himself for going to Viet Nam and then an ex hippie forgave Viet Nam itself. I’ve seen courageous personal acts by people from around the globe as they cleared the paths to their promises. When we get in that room we don’t talk about what’s wrong, we talk about what can be. And each person speaks their promise- what they’re giving their lives over to. World peace, dialogues and harmony, parks for all, people being really heard and self expressed, children empowered and so much more. And in that room, in these conversations, so much gets created and we realize we are a team for a huge future. A huge future for all of us. It really moves me.

It has moved me to go back and see my family, to go into work each day and just make everyone around me happy, to encourage my loved ones to dream and fulfill on those dreams. It has made me see what stops me from truly loving people and to take that on and smash it so I can begin the important work we are all here to do.

It inspired me to write this blog, so others can see promises for themselves. That wake them up in the morning, that allow them to be able to choose what is a priority to them, to design our global future and not feel like victims of circumstances.

To all the artists and scientists, builders and teachers, mentors and craftsmen, leaders and contributors –

By 2030 all people will do what they love and love what they do.

It starts with a dream.

What's yours?

History Repeats Itself (Or at Least History Essays)

One of my 6th grade girls wrote in an essay, “The Spanish Inquisition was when they tried to convert Jews into Spaniards.” I laughed at this until I was reminded of when I used to think that Israel was one of the 50 states. Now, people of Europe who continually shake their heads at Americans’ knowledge of world history, please stop reading this now. I certainly don’t want you to know that at age 16 I went to England during the summer and asked them how they celebrated July 4th. I believe a very stoic Brit replied, “We don’t usually celebrate our losses.” Boy, did that Plymouth Rock my world.

I believed that everything they told us in history classes was The Truth. I also believed that Hollywood movies would teach me everything and I wouldn't have to read textbooks. My brother Evan shot that theory down when he informed me in the ‘80’s that the movie, “Mobsters” (starring a young Patrick Dempsey, ladies) would not teach me what really happened in gangster times as those men didn’t even know each other when they were hot teens. (And was Meyer Lansky ever indeed a hot teen? Patrick Dempsey would have us believe he was.)

So imagine my fears when my Orthodox Jewish school informed me I would be teaching History along with English. Now I had started to learn and love it. I have written screenplays about Kennedys and pilots about politicos, but what did I know from Ancient Times or The Middle Ages? (I think I just heard Europe shriek!) I apologize, parents of my students, who are now reading this. But not to worry! And may I say, “Hashem bless Netflix!” I have watched over 20 documentaries – not Hollywood films (Thanks Evan) and learned oodles. Unfortunately I can’t show any of them to my students, as they are not deemed appropriate, but I did learn enough to help me teach. And may I say they were far more appropriate than me showing Showtime’s “The Tudors,” especially the scene where Henry masturbated while some poor sod had to stand there and hold a basin underneath. Imagine that poor guy showing up to his children’s career day at school and sharing about being “The Royal Spluge Catcher?”

But I digress.

I have learned, watched, read, power pointed and most importantly, gotten away from dates and trivial details and began each lesson with, “You know what was really cool about this time period?” And I know I’m succeeding because in last year’s history class that another teacher taught, one girl hated it so much she always scheduled doctor appointments during that time. Now, my kids get mad if they miss our history lessons. I am very proud of that. I have fallen in love with history and try to inspire that in others.

And as for The Spanish Inquisition remark- it was in an English essay and those girls aren’t up to The Middle Ages yet. But you can bet that girl knows her Greek Gods, and how to pull the brains out of an Egyptian mummy’s nose.

Just as I know that Israel is next to Virginia.

First Hilary, now Toddrick. I'm moving to Canada.

Because our electoral system and American brand of democracy doesn't work.

Yes, I wanted Hilary Rodham Clinton to win in '08. But more importantly, last night, I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY VOTED TODDRICK OFF AMERICAN IDOL!!! As I said, our American democracy system doesn't work. Tim Urban and Katie Whazzhername get to stay and Lilly and Toddrick leave? Because Americans voted for them? Which Americans? The itty bitty 12 year old girls who think Tim is cute and they want to be Katie. This is why we don't let 12 year old girls vote in the Presidential elections. They'd be very confused, since we really don't get anyone cute to run for political office. People thought Obama was handsome, but possibly because that's "as a president." I mean, if he were auditioning for a leading Hollywood role, they'd probably rate him a 6. But as a President, he's a 10. The same can be said for teachers. We don't expect much, so any cuteness is a big thing (not college professors- let me be perfectly clear on this point). When I first started teaching in Inglewood, CA in the '90's every girl wanted me to meet this one teacher (I will withhold names) and went crazy over how hot he was. Well, I went to see for myself. Now I was new to teaching and had just graduated college, so I hadn't lowered the bar yet. Therefore Mr. "Science Teacher", was just eh. But to these girls, after years of History teachers who looked like they actually had been at Gettysburg, well, I guess I understood. But I digress.

How can these people - these itty bitty- under 13 year-old moppets, vote again for cute people that can't sing rather than the ones who can on (as Simon keeps reiterating) A Singing Competition? Last night two people who had the best vocals this week were let go. It's Sanjiya (sp?) all over again. I think, just like in regular elections, they should make it so you have to be 18 or over to vote for American Idol and yes, someone should make sure it's all fair in Florida. Come on. We all knooooow that American Idol was invented for the 40+ crowd like myself. Just like Facebook. We appreciate it more. I mean really, you tweens, can you truly say that you got all the levels of Lilly Scott rewriting a Patsy Cline song? I can? Or Toddrick's gospel version of Queen's "Somebody to Love?" Maybe that's the point. You don't vote for songs that were written when your History teachers were your age.

Enough of my rant, I'm just going to watch week after week as our electoral system is abused and corrupted again and again. Or maybe I should make sure that all people under 13, instead of calling in for Idol winners, punch in their votes with butterfly chads.

There are many ways to watch the Oscars, or as I call it, "The Gay Men's Superbowl."

With good friends, alone, at a big party, or preferably, from the front row, waiting for them to call your name. While I have not yet had the pleasure of doing the latter, I have done quite a few of the former. And I even once went to the dress rehearsals the day before, so I'm getting there. But no matter where or how I watch it, I have a few rituals. One is to eat a whole lot of crap, giving myself an "Oscar belly" for quite some time and the other is to see every movie I possibly can beforehand so I can understand it.

My love of the Oscars probably started when, growing up on the East Coast, my mother allowed me to stay up all the way till 12 or 1 am that one night of the year. I wrote it off and knew that the next day at school I'd feel as horribly as I do now, at 40-something, staying up past 10 pm. :) It was all for the good of the Oscars. And boy were they good. The 1970 and 80's Oscars were quite a show. There were big, tacky, expensive musical numbers and looking back I can't believe how we loved those styles of clothes. If you're not sure what I'm talking about, watch any episode of The Partridge Family.

Back then I also wanted to be an actress. I am sure many of us have practiced our Oscar speeches, and based on the year or who I was mad at, my speeches always thanked some, and made sure certain people were jealous with envy.

When I switched over to writing and started teaching at Compton High, things changed. I changed. I wanted to win that Oscar so that the kids I taught would see someone they had once known, up there, telling them that anything is possible. That Oscar winners, famous people and stars weren't "them" but were us. Could be all of us. That anyone could be a success. And whether the girl from "Precious" won or not, I think she did a good job of demonstrating that tonight, as did Monique.

I enjoyed tonight's broadcast. I ate my crap, had my loved ones around me- the kind who love the show as much as I do but do not talk incessantly - we bet and balloted and laughed and were moved. And that's what the Oscars have always done for me.

Sure, it's not a huge, deep, meaningful event. Sure there are wonderful superficialities, and nothing is better than the hosts pointing that out, but it's still a night of fun and magic. I love the opening songs and monologues. The clips to remind me of what I saw or inspire me of what to see next. I love to see writers honored or people tell us who touched them. Tonight I loved seeing the hosts in snuggies, Monique's speech, the Memorium. I always love to see James Taylor. I loved this year, that they made us care more about subjects like short films- by showing us clips or people whose careers were made because of winning this category.

I guess I like this show because it is about my favorite thing- dreams. And as people on this show achieve theirs, I look in their eyes. I want to know how they got there. Their dreams are no better than the dreams everyone has- of green technology, politics, world peace, teaching, finding cures for diseases, empowering people - it's just a televised moment where I can watch people who have achieved their dreams and then reboot my ambitions and the dreams and ambition of everyone I come in contact with.

The Academy Awards have brought us laughter and tears, fanfare and dance, dazzling dresses, streakers, homages to people who have entertained us over the years. The people aren't better, they may just be shinier. But they are examples to me of people who open their hearts for us and help us open our own. So I enjoy it.

And this year, in the reverse of election '08, Hilary beat Obama for best director. I thought they'd mention that.

Thanks for the escape - people who make movies, thanks for the night of escape and magic- people who make the Oscars, and thank you most of all, people at Ralph's supermarket, who make those powdered sugar brownie bites- I think we went through the whole batch.

It was the best of times, it was the worst... My brief visit to NY for my dad's 80th Birthday

Before anyone I went to Jr. High and found me on Facebook screams at me - believe me. I wanted to see you. I wanted to call everyone I know in NY. But it was the spur of the moment decision to go for a short trip for my dad's 80th birthday and then to see my mother- something I have been avoiding for a few years now.

I took Lorianne for her first trip to NYC and apologized profusely every minute of every day that her first visit to the Big Apple would be to see my crazy old relatives. She is a good sport.

Her first impression of NYC: Our luggage arrived on another flight (yes we are writing very angry letters to American Airlines about how our luggage was late and they lost all my crown jewels and flatscreen TVs I had in them worth millions of dollars.) This caused us to sit in JFK till 11:30 pm which then caused us to arrive at a Jamaica subway station at 1:00 am where Lorianne saw a rat on the tracks. In all my years in NYC I never saw one. For the rest of the trip she looked at all the tracks, poised with her camera, excited and hopeful.

Things were better the next 2 days because: My 80 year old NY Jew, foul mouthed, sexist, slightly racist father has a 60 year old African American girlfriend. This made my entire life. Also he is a hypochondriac and Lorianne is a germaphobe so they got on splendidly, comparing notes in a diner about whether one should not drink from a straw and because you'd get excess gas, or indeed use the straw so as to avoid touching your lips to the diner glass itself. When she offered to pay for breakfast, he said, "You try and I'll stab you," to which she answered, "You looking for a fight, old man?" The bond was permanently formed.

It went uphill from there. MY highlight was going to FAO Schwartz where Lorianne danced on the "Big" piano and I built and made my very own muppet (who I then named Ted). As we rode trains and looked for rats, visited the best candy store in the world, walked all over Manhattan for hours, and met my brother and his GENIUS daughter, things were looking up. My niece engaged in a political conversation with us on her views on Obama from last year, (when she was in 1st grade!) and I looked very smug. I had warned Lorianne that New Yorkers were smarter than West Coast people. I told her to go brag to my brother about her third graders who just seem to cry and masturbate. We then saw the longest running Broadway show, the Statue of Liberty... she took over 100 photos (none of rats but many of things she remembered from the show "Friends") and we ate more candy.

The trip took a darker turn when we rented a car and spent a short time with my disabled mother in Queens. We took her and her friend out and Lorianne was a real trouper, as she set up the DVD player I bought my mom and drew very large, easy pictures to show my mother and her aide how to operate it. This will be hit or miss as I saw my old 1981 15-ton VCR with half the parts missing still in my old room. We also took her to Red Lobster and she learned that she could ride a little cart all around Target and recall her younger, more active days (my mother, not Lorianne.) We tried to make her happy, and forgo'd? forwent a shower as it had a little old lady seat and some sort of catheter tube thingy hanging from the shower head. I wondered how her aides showered and Lorianne reminded me that they didn't even have to, since my mother doesn't have a sense of smell.

Besides Lorianne spilling water on my laptop- but it's fixed now and it was covered under warrantee!!! - things got better. I loved seeing snow, hearing people curse, eating off of everyone's plate, seeing my dad be the softest he's ever been with a very sweet woman, knowing my mom has something new to make her happy, and I have a niece who can take on Glenn Beck.

I love thee, NY.

Lorianne, Ted and I will miss you, but it's also good to be home.

Facebook for Generation -"Whatever the Heck I Am."

There are two types of people that use Facebook:
1. The younger set that take 489 photos of themselves and friends by sticking the camera above their heads and smiling
2. And people over 30.

And like many other ageist thoughts I have about young people, I don’t quite think they get the full benefit on Facebook. I mean, they’re showing current photos. Of themselves. To people who see them like that every day. How is that fun? You have to either post photos of yourself 18 years ago, or of yourself now so people who knew you 18 years ago can laugh, cry or be glad they didn’t end up with you. You may think they want to see photos of your kids, dogs, cats, new dining room table, etc. But they don’t. Unless they didn’t end up with you, then they want to see those photos so they’d know what their kids, dogs, cats and dining room tables would have looked like, had you stayed together. I, myself, was freaked out by the eighth grade photos of the children of a guy I liked when we were in eighth grade. It really is scary.

But no matter what my cynical wit may suggest, Facebook for the 30+ group is really amazing. It’s better and Cheaper (until they start charging for it) than therapy. You have a chance to contact people you lost touch with and maybe even still have misunderstandings or grudges with, and clean them up. Nothing feels better than contacting a person you dated 15 years ago who dumped you only to hear their 50 year old self say they had been an a—hole. What? It wasn’t me? Or that guy you obsessed about for 20 years- is not just a dad and bald. Lay that one to rest.

But on an up note, I have reconnected with people I have loved, who were influential in my life, and found little pieces of me again, that I had let go. I reconnected with the funniest person in college and stayed with her in Washington DC. She has the cutest kids ever and was as wonderful as ever. I reconnected with another old friend and stayed with her in Sundance (yes, Facebook causes travel). I found old crushes, old buddies, people telling me they always believed in me, and who know me very well, because some things just never changed. My friend reconnected with an old high school love who never forgot her and he moved here to be with her. I even was contacted by my (now 80 year old) 5th grade teacher, who has been contacted by everyone else she taught and wondered where I was- the amazing spirit and writer. If your 80 year-old 5th grade teacher remembers you, you can certainly pull up your pants and puff up your chest. You’re a hot shot now.

Yes, youngsters, I get how wonderful it is to post those handheld 590 photos of you looking hot. I myself blush, since I taught some of you when you were really young and have to see those photos now, but perhaps that’s how my 80 year old ex fifth grade teacher thinks of me. “Beverly, you’re only 11. Stop being so gosh darn sexy!”

So take a chance, look up that person who made a difference for good or bad, in your life. Face the “bad ones” from the point of view of the adult you are now, thank the “good” ones for all they’ve done. Give a piece of themselves back to the people who really made you who you are.

And then you can give them a chicken bone from Farmville.

How To Sundance Wrong And Love It

Underneath all my confidence and ultra suaveness lies this little nagging voice that always worries: “You’re going to do it wrong!” If I’m already engaged in something it might say, “You’re doing it wrong,” and when I’m done, it will lovingly whisper, “Well that sucked.” In Landmark education we call that your act. This thing, made up when you were a child that you believe and runs you. To battle that, you can say, “Shut up”, “Thank you for sharing,” you can never try anything, or you can create some new belief.

In Peak Potentials (run by T. Harv Ecker, the Canadian Tony Robbins), they have two sayings about this. 1: Ready, Fire, Aim! Which means, don’t wait till it’s all perfect, just try and then fix your messes. Which leads to their second saying, “Correct and continue.”

All this coupled with a wonderful section of the book, The Artist’s Way, on not doing things perfectly, means two things: 1. I do a lot of self growth work and 2. I’d never do Sundance Film Festival, my dream, unless I just shot myself out of a canon and went this year. I mean, the stars did all align and the book Conversations With God says, when you’re ready, the signs will appear, so I looked: I had won some money in a Screenwriting Competition, my school had off and I reunited with a friend via Facebook who lived in Utah of all places, and after listening to my manager, and with a bit of prodding from friends, I decided, in January, to go to Sundance. I knew I should have planned well in advance and that “act”, voices and Ben and Jerry’s in my stomach were all screaming, but by gum, I was going to take it all on and do Sundance wrong, but finally do it- this year.

How to do it wrong? Start planning in January to go Monday, January 25- Friday, January 29th. How to do it even wronger? More wrong? Wrongially? (Ack, I’m using wrong-ish grammar!) First, I realize it follows another self growth course in San Francisco (Power And Contribution) and so I fly back home Sunday night and then fly out to Sundance Monday, rather than flying from San Francisco right out to Sundance. Second, I book the flight from Monday – Saturday, then realize I have an all day class on Saturday so spend $100 more to change your flight. Which is what I did. (Life lessons can be expensive, folks.) After that, things were easy. The semi-grownup in me booked a rental car and airport parking. And had to change them a few times. And then when my friend in Utah said she’d lost her job and could drive me around, cancel the car reservation. (So with the $100 flight change fee, I was up $160! Yay!)

Third, I online to get tickets and I realize that you’re supposed to buy a package a million years before. And then, don’t even buy tickets till Monday night, online, and realize most things are sold out, but you can get tickets to things for Wednesday- Friday because apparently no one but me stays till then. They all went the first weekend when you’re supposed to go. That’s when parties are and the celebrities are here. But my friends and I do find tickets to movies and then the computer freezes and we lost them but then we get them again and I’m happy.

Monday has come and gone, and I just picked out tickets. Tuesday, we’re trying to get my friend a job (and I think we did!!! ☺) and we have a late start. Then it’s off to Park City. And I have to say, from here on in, I have a ball. Actually, I’ve had a ball the whole time. As I was doing it wrong! And As I had the time of my life, I also learned what to do for next year. Correct and continue! My friend (an amazing sport) and I exchanged an 8:30 am movie ticket because that was ridiculous, will see our 5th movie today, we’ve gone to a party, seen a friend of mine, talked to everyone and we saw how incredibly beautiful Utah is in the winter! I woke up every morning to see dogs in the backyard playing in snow. Snow! (I’m living in LA). The trees are beautiful, the little houses are great, I learned how hard it is to buy wine for a party in a Mormon state, and I’m not kidding- I think we got my friend the job she really wants. Not to mention she was a cop and criminal investigator so she helped me with my Mentalist script. I leave today and I had a blast!

So today’s lesson, kiddies, is the following: Do your dreams. I’ve wanted to go to Sundance for 10 years and always had “reasons.” But by being “Unreasonable” I threw myself here, completely “did it wrong,” had a great time, am very proud of myself and now I know other ways to plan for this, if I choose. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And you can do all of this while helping end unemployment by getting your friend a job!

Jesus Killed The '80's TV Star

Well not all of them, but a select few, seemed to go the way of ol' J.C. Some of the prettier ones in fact. Lisa Whelchel from "The Facts Of Life," already a Christian, refused to do a storyline where her character was the first to lose her viriginity, so they gave that plot to Natalie. Seriously, of all of them, would you assume Natalie would lose it first? (Although her boyfriend was named "Snake".) Actually all of them could have had sex and gotten pregnant since they all got fat and wore long belted sweatshirts. It would have explained a lot. Lisa then went on to record Christian albums, homeschool her kids and founded "Momtime Ministries." While this is all excellent, I doubt she ever really teaches "The Facts Of Life."

Willia Aames, an old crush of mine from "Eight is Enough" - NOT when he dumbed down to play Buddy Lembeck on "Charles In Charge", was in the Madrigal Ensemble while in high school. Born Albert William Upton (what?) he had a regular rock band while on "Eight Is Enough" called "Willie Aames and Paradise" (the cool kind or as in Heaven?) I can see how "Albert Uptown and Paradise" wouldn't have soared to astronomical stardom like The Willie Aames version did. (what?) Willie then toured the country as Christian superhero, Bibleman. I wonder if he had a sidekick. Did Adam Rich play Sacrament Boy? And how did all that work out for Willie? He has appeared on reality shows, broke and looking like hell. Yes, Bibleman led to Hell. Perhaps it's time to be born yet again.

Kirk Cameron, heartthrob Mike Seaver of "Growing Pains" "turned" while on this show and like Lisa Whelchel, objected to any storylines that were too edgy and racy (and yet he allowed a character to be named Boner.) This explains why there was never "A Very Special Growing Pains -Mike Seaver has genital warts." What a waste of a cute guy with his own attic apartment. Cameron is now an evangelist, made some popular Christian "Left Behind" movies and apparently has published an altered version of Darwin's "The Origin Of The Species." Perhaps it explains why some people are "Left Behind."

While these people have disappeared from mainstream TV (except for Willie Aames making us feel sorry for him on reality shows) other religions seem to bode well for careers. Kabbalah is awesome, Scientology, though laughed at, taught John Travolta that if you don't make a movie about the religion, you'll do fine and he and Tom Cruise continue acting in very racy, sexy and edgy movies.

On a final note, I'd like to point out that while "Blossom's" DOCTOR Mayim Bialik turned Conservatox Jew (Jew detoxing?) this did not stop her from appearing as lesbian Jodi Funkauser 3x in "Curb Your Enthusiasm" ( a racy but extremely UNsexy show). You wouldn't see Cameron or Aames doing that! And Lisa Whelchel left that role to fellow actress Nancy McKeon. :) The only freakish thing about Bialik is that she's a vegan. Ick.

So what does that teach us? Jews can be gay, just like Scientologists (though they try to hide it), Christians can't, superheroes can end up homeless and I can't understand why anyone would only want to eat tree bark.

Comments?

You Don't Need To Get High To Attend A Bat Mitzvah

I’m sure I have attended a Bat/Bar Mitzvah since 1981. But I can’t remember. I teach at an Orthodox school and turn down invitations because I’d have 30 a year to attend, but this was outside school. I barely knew the girl and figured it would be boring as hell and I should eat a (medical marijuana approved) pot brownie so I’d find everything really funny and enjoy the food 100% more, but I did not imbibe and turned up sleepy and sober. It started at 10am. What????

I missed a lot of the religious part but saw enough to really get how close this congregation was. And I spent most of the service and party with a writer’s eye and a nostalgic heart, taking in everything. When I remember my Bat Mitzvah (and my parents threw some lame Bar/Bat mitzvahs) my strongest memories are the following:

• I was excited to have all the attention
• Because I was so short the family joke was I was the “hole in the wall” in family photos
•My mother never got around to making an album for me
• I wrote my own speech and it seemed to be funny
• My lame parents scheduled it on Halloween so a few kids didn’t come. &^&^%%$!!!
• All the boys took off their shoes and spent the whole time sliding around the floor, much to the girls’ dismay.

Yesterday it was this huge, beautiful ceremony. The girls looked older than I think we ever did. The boys hung out with them. In fact the Bat Mitzvah girl had a boyfriend. At thirteen. I must say she was very pretty and seemed to skip preteen awkwardness. And what’s even weirder – she loved her Temple, her religion and her parents. I barely knew this girl but I was riveted to the slide show of a happy family and loving sisters, and the candle lighting ceremony and how she celebrated all of these people and groups in her life. This 13 year-old really seemed to appreciate who she was, who she loved and how much they had contributed to her.

I thought back to my candle lighting ceremony or my brother’s – I couldn’t remember – and don’t remember honoring those people the way she did. This girl wrote a tribute on the cards. And the father-daughter dance? It brought back a rush of heart-felt memories of my father and I dancing at my cousin’s wedding. That guy might be crazy, but I loved to dance with him. No matter how many times I might have found my parents embarrassing, dancing with my father was wonderful each and every time. He made this fun face of mock-concentration, a heap of fun and just a dash of rogue to top it off.

Between being touched to learn more about this girl than the few times I’d seen her at religious events, seeing the love and honor she gave to family, friends and her Temple, remembering Bat Mitzvahs circa the ‘80’s, and always loving a good buffet – I didn’t need that (medical marijuana approved) pot cake at all. I had to struggle with my ever-crappy feelings about aging, but I practiced letting it go over and over again. The Mohawked DJ (that was pretty 80’s) played music I actually knew and my favorite moment (as you can guess) was when he let the kids eat and then said: “Adults, you’re going to have to play a game called Who Wants To Eat First?” I was ready for a lame game until he announced, “Name this TV theme song and your table eats first.”

I think I lobbed over two tables and waved my hand before he spoke. And of course, I missed the first one. I’d never been a fan of the A-Team but thankfully my fellow “Ocelot” (that was the name of our table) guessed it and it was time to fill up our plates. I didn’t know a lot of people there but for one second we were all connected as hands flew from all the other tables – the Tigers, Panthers, etc. screaming, “Gilligan’s Island!” “I Dream Of Genie!” I was in heaven. As I’ve always believed, TV, not George W Bush, is the great uniter. I watched those Gazelles and Sloths pile their plates, I guessed along with the TV themes, eating my buffet early thanks to Mr. T’s great TV run and fellow Ocelot’s guess and yes, I forgot about being an adult for one minute as I descended upon that ice cream bar.

I was touched, moved, inspired, happy, full, cold (from the ice cream) and really impressed with this young lady. And my fellow TV viewers. I’d never have thought all that when I was first told I’d have to attend this at 10 am (means wake up at 8am on my day off) and all the way down was told “What a good sport you are.” It reminded me of this lovely Buddhist saying:

“Half the things you hope for don’t happen. Half the things you fear don’t happen. So just let things happen.” It reminds me to just show up, without expectations, and see what Life has planned for me.

So happy Bat Mitzvah, Gabrielle. You don’t really know me but you have made an impact on my life.

If It Ain't Broke, Don't Fix it- TV Gripes #2

Adding or subtracting a cast member or two, or a marriage, or changing from Black & white to technicolor are all acceptable, but when some shows change the location, cast or at times, everything… we wonder why it even continued.

I remember “Beverly Hills 90210” (the first one) was a show about twins and their parents. By the end of the show, not one member of that show was still around. It was also about high school kids. By the end, I think the characters were all collecting social security. I don’t remember. And did ER end with anyone it started out with? I’m waiting to see if “Scrubs” goes the same way. It is now a teaching hospital without the main character. It’s about some new characters, a few old ones and some characters we don’t even talk about. Carla anyone?

Who asked Archie Bunker to move to a bar? Did Cheers move to a living room? No. What would that have been like? Would the alcoholism seem just a little bit sadder if they were all on couches?

Who asked Heroes to spend all of its time in a carnival? Did the show “Carnivale” suddenly have people with superpowers saving the planet? Alas, perhaps it would have survived longer. Good show except the preacher with the black eyes creeped me out (True Blood brought the creepy black eye thing back but this time it occurs when people are involved in orgies. It used to be just demonic eyes, now it’s orgy demonic eyes. Blech.)

Remember when Charles In Charge changed their entire family? Does anyone remember it was a brunette family that then was replaced with a blonde one? How would you have felt if one day you had turned on the Brady Bunch and they just happened to replace everyone with Cambodians? Would they all still have worn those groovy striped pants?

Do we remember a whole other cast and title of Ellen’s sitcom? It was about some friends and entitled “These Friends Of Mine.” Then it canned most of them and changed to “Ellen.” By that logic, what if NBC had felt that the first year of “Friends” didn’t work, replaced them all with monkeys (thereby keeping Marcel), called it “Monkeys” and said it was basically the same show too? How did Ellen get away with it?

It took me a while between year one and two of Facts Of Life, getting used to 4 girls instead of about 8, and I was OK when they all lived in one room. I was still there when they worked for Mrs. Garrett at the good ol’ edibles shop, but it was too much when the 80’s took over, they worked in a store that sold what??? replaced Mrs. Garrett with Cloris Leachman, and everyone got fat. That was way too much to adjust to. Imagine Eight Is Enough slashing by 4 kids (or Jon and Kate), moving them all to work over a cigar shop, replace Dick “I have four facial expressions and none of them are cute” Van Patten with his cousin played by Ted McGinley (see above blog to learn my feelings on him or go to: http://www.tvguide.com/keywords/jts-ted-mcginley) and they all struggle with early ‘80’s obesity as well. (In comments below, please indicate which 4 should have been saved).

Add a little southern boy and Dixie Carter to Different Strokes, give Mary Richards a new apartment, kill off Rhoda’s husband, replace the blonde every three years on Charlie’s Angels or Three’s Company, sadly replace the guy from Three’s Company on Eight Simple Rules for Dating My Teenage Daughter, send the guys from Lost home, and back, and in the past and back, and in a hatch and out… Change the cast of Law And Order regularly- I mean, come on – it’s been 20 years! Lose the redhead from NYPD Blue and replace him with Jimmy Smits, then the little kid from Silver Spoons and then the little kid from Saved By The Bell – heck- put Screech on the Sopranos – or kill off a beloved character named after a woman’s genitalia with an adjective that means it’s been stretched too far. Thanks to history, I am prepared when The Tudors loses a wife every year or so and a show adding a wife, husband or Cousin Oliver is fine. I can deal with gradual changes. Goodbye Paula, hello Ellen. High school kids should eventually graduate, Jim and Pam should have definitely tied the knot, it’s okay that Klinger hung up his dress though I missed Radar very much – but guys the show was so good, I bought that the Korean war lasted long after Bush declared “Mission Accomplished” in 2003.

Tuck, patch, mend, evolve. That’s all fine and dandy. But I barely recognize the 35 year-olds who never went to college in Smallville, Prison Break broke in one season, who the hell was cousin Pam and why did the Cosby Show need her? I didn’t want Dallas or Roseanne to all just be a dream, or for the whole cast of West Wing to step aside so we could see Jimmy Smits and Alan Alda herald a future John McCain and Barak Obama to a T. Did anyone else realize that? An over the hill, too moderate white Republican takes on an ethnic youthful Democrat?? Holy smokes!!!

Overall I leave you with this: Many shows “jump the shark” – i.e. live past their usefulness. A few make very bad choices. But some make really huge divergences from the original premise and people that we tuned in for. They should open with a disclaimer. Something like: “Do not adjust your TV sets. The following show bears virtually no resemblance to the show you fell in love with in the first place. But since you’ll watch crappy sequels just to see it to the bitter end (Hey, I saw Superman IV the Quest For Peace!!), pipe down, sit back and enjoy.”

Need I say: Valerie/Valerie’s Family/The Hogan Family?