I've been naughty...

Crazy that I can't keep my blog shit regular when I have all this time on my hands. Well, whatever--I figured the best thing I could do for you, my neglected reader friends (or whoever's left, at this point) is provide a pictoral summation, or, a one-sentence play-by-play of what the hell I've been doing in the past month or so... yeah, let's just make it since I moved back to San Francisco at the end of January.


Here we go...

Muck and roll...

Alright, it's official: I'm certifiably restless. And it's in the worst way.

Today I resigned myself to hankering down and tending to my oft-neglected side-job, updating the East Bay/North Bay database for Gayot.com, of which I am paid very little but does give me a slight insight into the culinary aspect of my surroundings albeit by much Internet research (i.e. I am on my computer all day, not eating or actually seeing any said "surroundings"). Needless to say, by 3 o'clock, I was bored enough to attempt further investigation into this whole "napping" phenomenona all the successful business schmucks seem so high-and-mighty about.

Despite my 45 minute-alarm clock, I woke up at 5, ravenous and bad-tempered. The term "howling at the moon" comes to mind, but not in the trashy-sexy, Coyote Ugly kind of way. I'm thinking grittier, more primal, maybe more tragic-comedy like "American Werewolf in London" circa 1981.

And it was bad--helpless bad, as in, I didn't know where to go or what to do. But I knew before anything that I had to take the dog (Sasha's, "Philly) for a walk first. And as we crossed the street--me, head down and hellbent toward the park--a car came barrelling right at us, high-speed. My heart jumped out of my chest as I thrust myself between the menacing vehicle and my furry cohort, yelling.

The car screeched to a stop. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry," said the woman inside. "But it's dark, and you're wearing black."

Yes, I muttered and moved along to the other side. Figures, I thought to myself. Nobody can see me. Isn't that appropriate?

Back in the saddle, again...

So anyhoo... I'm back in San Francisco now. And it sure feels good!!

Once again, I don't have an editorial-type job lined up--YET. But the difference is, I feel much more relaxed and confident that it's gonna happen... that it's meant to happen.

I'm less freaked out now being away from Maui than when I first set foot on the Mainland in August. (Can you believe it's been six months?? It feels like six years.) And getting the newsroom job in Palm Springs showed me that I am, indeed, hireable... despite my fears to the contrary after two-and-a-half months spent in my bathrobe walking around my freezing-ass, haunted, doomed apartment in SF's Inner Sunset waaaay back in September.

Oh, but I do have a couple freelance gigs--I've still got the restaurant reviews to do in the East Bay and Marin for Gayot.com, which is great in that I'll be dining out more, but the pay's not so great.

The second freelance gig I scored is for a BLOG at an exciting new website about shoes and the women who love them--it's called Shoetube.tv. If you click on the link for "BLOGS," then go to "Fun & Funky," I have two blogs: "Slippin' Into the Future, Part One" (1/25) and "Slippin' Into the Future, Part Two" (2/5).

I have posted the picture here that you'll see on the Shoetube site that's associated with me, so as not to confuse you too much. And um... it's a wig, by the way--not the effects of being in Southern California too long. However, one can only imagine the ravages that peroxided hell would've spurned on my psyche and hairline over time...

It should be noted that my Plan B, upon careful consideration by my Hispanic friends, is for me to ditch the writing thing and be a Telemundo chick. I argue that my inadequate language skills in that area may pose a problem. Their solution: Mexican porn. Hmph. How rude.

Ah, well. Consider it Plan C.

And then the very good stuff...

Here's a list of the cool shit I did in my last two weeks of Palm Springs:

1. I wrote about and met this awesome chick, Audra Mae, who performed at another Upright Cabaret production, which I, of course, went to and they sat me at a table of fabulous gays from Austin, TX, so naturally I fell head over heels in love with the hot boy who sat next to me, who was there with his boyfriend. I also learned that gay men do sometimes have straight crushes so there's that. Anyway, all the performers were awesome. I laughed, I cried, I flirted mercilessly with unavailable men... just another night. Here's some photos somebody else took.

2. Went on a date with high school boyfriend #83. And it was... really cool. I think I might've actually shortchanged the man previously, because he ended up being rather great. Who knew old guys could be so much fun?

3. My mom and her friend took me to this AMAZING place in the high desert by Joshua Tree called Pioneertown (pictured above). It's basically this old movie set they used for Westerns in the late 1940's. I'm totally gonna go back and stay at the Motel (that's the "office" pictured above, next to the truck) and write a book, Hunter S. Thompson-style, while I'm drunk from time spent at Pappy & Harriet's (that's the women's restroom pictured there, too).

In memorandum...

It wasn't all bad, of course!

The people I worked with were lovely, and the surrounding scenery was, well, scenic and stuff. I learned A LOT about how daily news conglomerates are run. I also met some very interesting people during the course of the job. And I learned how Gannett reporters are treated--very well, actually--in a small town...

Between here and there...

So when I last left off, back on Jan. 16, and two days before I was unofficially going to be leaving The Desert Sun, I guess I kinda gave the impression that perhaps I wouldn't be leaving my primo corporate newsroom gig and the glamorous life in Palm Springs...

HA!

The truth is, I did indeed have to go.

While I was super grateful for how everything turned out, desert tour and all, the nagging feeling for me was that living and working in San Francisco is actually part of my big dream. Palm Springs was just a way-station. And it was a lovely station, really.

After another persuasive talk with the Editor at TDS, I opted to stay just one more week, in order to save up just a bit more money before splitting. So yeah, they did offer me the job. He even offered to let me go get my city fix for a month and then come back. But I told him I didn't think that would be enough time. So yes, I did turn down the fulltime features reporter gig at one of the largest news corporations in the world...

But c'mon--allow me to run through the last few stories I was assigned: the "Pillars of the Community" ceremony, the La Quinta Library expansion, the Senior Center's annual chili cook-off, and a four-month golden retriever who fetches the newspaper.

Oh, there's more... but isn't that enough, honestly??

Who's running this thing anyway???

Oh, my. I've really let this blog escape me, haven't I? Well, that's what happens when you're out, trying to live your life--trying to make shit happen. It's an interesting balance, this writerly thing, you know? Like, if you're constantly writing, then when do you have the chance to go out and glean some experience? And then if you're out mucking around, when do you find the time to sit down and pontificate about it?

That's why I was just about to pop in this Netflix DVD--"Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride"--that I've had for eons and haven't had a chance to watch yet. Yeah, it's a doc about the life of Hunter S. Thompson, who did somehow manage to do both, you know, rather well. Um, until he shot himself. Anyhow, I figured I could use the inspiration. Or anti-inspiration, as the case may be--so the blog would yet again have to wait. But then the guilt, the awful guilt...

Aw, crap.

Okay, where do I begin?

Hmm...