Where's the Beer?

Can you spot the beers in this picture? (Hint: probably not)

About three bazillion years ago, a fresh-faced, enthusiastic young writer called me and invited me to lunch. We went to a Red Robin/TGIF/Place They Make Waiters Wear "Flair" somewhere on the other side of the 520 bridge, in Microsoft land.

She wanted to find out everything she could about freelance writing. She wanted to meet people and editors and learn the ropes. I can't remember exactly what I told her, but it sparked this how-to article.

I guess she's learned them ropes pretty good, and tied 'em all up in pretty bows. This curious girl, who since became a friend and an accomplished travel and technology writer (and also moved to San Diego) has a huge story in today's L.A. Times travel section about an alcohol ban on the beach. She's also an amazing athlete (ok, if you want to be picky, triathlete) and has the prettiest teeth I've ever seen.

Yay, Ericka Chickowski! I'm glad to say I knew you then, and that I know you now.

Salaam Garage

I'd like to take a few of these precious cyber lines to talk about my friend and collaborator, Amanda Koster.

Amanda is a photographer. But not just ANY photographer. She's one of the most socially compassionate people I've known. Ever. Her heart bleeds, much like yours and mine, most likely. But here's the difference: Amanda sees some kind of injustice -- AIDS orphans in Africa, body-image issues in the United States, women's status in Morocco, just for starters -- and makes it her mission to KICK THE ASS OF THAT PROBLEM. Personally. She takes world global issues on as if someone spit in her face, slandered her mother, stomped on her daisies. She'll go to whatever hardscrabble place and take a bunch of pictures of people at their most beautiful and vulnerable, then bring them back, introduce them to the world, ask for money and help for them, and change their lives forever.

She's begun a new project called Salaam Garage, a kind of new activistourism. Here's how she describes it:

Salaam Garage Adventures connects media savvy travelers and enthusiasts with international Non-governmental Organizations (NGOs). Travelers commit to creating and sharing unique, independent social media that raises awareness and causes positive change. The rest of the adventure is spent touring around the region, experiencing and exploring the culture and environment with an entirely new context. You will find that Salaam Garage is not just visual art, but also a body of work that has the capability to spark global transformation.

We are the media now. Join us.

Read about her in the Seattle P-I and Some Other Publication.

If anyone can change the world, it's this woman. But if you told her that to her face, she'd brush you off as she's packing for another trip to somewhere else and getting Kodak to sponsor her, like some modern arty Wonder Woman, where they need her more than we do here.

You might have some vacation time coming up. Or maybe you're a freelancer (or a mortgage broker) with all kinds of time. Do not take that stupid and shallow cruise to the Bahamas. Do not go see relatives you don't particularly like anyway in Dubuque. And for the love of all that's holy, don't step foot Disneyland. Or Disneyworld. Or, for fuck's sake, the French Monde du Disney or whatever it is.

Just go with Amanda.

I'm so proud to have been able to work with Amanda in the past, and I look forward to doing so again in the future, even though I am, artistically, not even in qualified to be in the same universe with her.

But most of all, I'm proud to be her friend.

This Time Will Be Different

Rodrigo y Gabriela

This time will be different.

This time I will not quit when it gets hard.

This time I will pay attention.

This time I will work and work and work until I get it right.

This time, I will get good enough so that I don't have to try. So that I can translate what is happening in my head and my heart to the world. So that I can tell you I love you in lyric and melody without actually saying "I love you."

This time, I will learn guitar. From a real teacher.

There are 100 songs I want to be able to sing and play. I want to put provocative and too-clever poems to music, ala Ani di Franco. I want to mourn for sweetness gone like Nanci Griffith. I want to rock like Rod and Gab, John and Paul, Sinead, k.d., Prince.

At least 90 percent of my past beaus have been all guitar, all the time. True talents. But you know what? You can't learn guitar by osmosis, no matter how many bodily fluids you swap. And it's taken me until 40licious to understand this.

When I get my throwdown song, hopefully by the end of the year, I am nominating myself for the 40licious Hall o' Fame.

My New Boyfriend - Part 2

I went down to Orange County the other day, and met my new boyfriend. While I was working! Or maybe it was San Bernardino County. Or Riverside. I seriously can't tell them apart. I just know you have to drive at least two CD's worth on the 5 or the 10 to get there (no, I am the only person who drives a Prius without an iPod jack. Whut up with that?) Whatever, one of those places where property values have plummeted and everyone who bought real estate with an "easy" loan in 2005 is basically up shit creek.

But I digress. I went to this place called "The Discovery Center/Discovery Cube" which has a signature big cube on the highway and it's a super cool science museum. Our energy efficiency guru had a TV interview that I managed. Which basically involves keeping him happy with cold Diet Cokes while we waited three or four hours for his TV spot. I guess you could say I'm his handler.

But I digress. So I was at the Discovery Cube and watching the reporter do this Flashdance thing in a chair with her crew pouring water all over her. Scary and Sad and Funny were all fighting in my head.

But I digress. So while I'm there, I met the man who is perfect for me. He's very handy with tools, and I'm beginning my kitchen renovation. He doesn't talk much, so that's a huge plus. He's got GIANT feet, like, size 19 or something (can't wait 'til the third date!).

So, yeah, Bob and I. Me and Bob. Bobnessa. We're trying to make it work, even though we're from different worlds. I'm urban LA, and he's suburban Orange/Riverside/San Bernardino County. Wish us luck!

Nothing Personal

I started going to a new shrink. She's very expensive and wore white, so far, on all three visits. Very linen-y and soft and reserved. But insightful enough that I'm compelled to return for at least one more session.

So she had a little vacation last week. I came into my appointment and asked how her trip was. "Fine," she said.

I asked where she went. She said she wouldn't tell me because she doesn't share personal information with her clients, and that I'd learn who she was through her reactions and our conversations. That she'd rather use the time to talk about me and what I was going through. That she'd rather I imagine where she'd been.

So I said OK, trying to not feel too scolded.

Our 45-minute "hour" was up, and as she was writing my receipt, I glanced down at her desk and saw an envelope with a familiar name and mailing address on it. And I blurted out, before the brain filter could engage, "Hey, Dr. [Kenny Rogers]* is my gynecologist too!"

She was clearly taken aback, and kind of ignored my comment with a "huh" sound. She did a stealth shuffle of papers and covered the envelope.

Then I apologized by way of saying, "his name just jumped out at me," or something equally lame.

I guess that's what happens when you spend 45 minutes trying to be unguarded. It's hard to shift back.

* My GYN, of course, is not Kenny Rogers. But he's that type. Just a little less gritty and with very, very soft hands.

Can't Buy Me Love

Yesterday at 5 p.m. it became legal for same-sex couples to get married in California. Now, I don't know about the rest of the world, but the recent media coverage here is nonstop: all kinds of interviews and footage about gay people smooching all over each other. At one point today I thought, "God, do we really need another man-on-the-street interview about how some random dude feels about two other dudes tying the knot?"

But then I relented. All these stories, all day long, are about how much people love each other. And I hope they run news like this every day. Because always, always, throughout time, there's someone with not enough stuff to think about, or art to make, or cookies to bake, who wants to wreck other people's happiness.

Good Energy

My story on using energy wisely is out in Parent & Child magazine. On a much cooler note, my brother's story is in the same issue, interviewing the guy who started Mad Libs. Yay Ian!