Place-less

This (rare) entry is dedicated to all my place-less homies out there.

I'm starting to realize--slowly, surely, uncomfortably--that I don't have a place. I'm also starting to realize--slower, surer, more uncomfortable--that I've felt this way for a really, really long time.

It's not a question of not having a home. I have a home. It's a house--red brick, basic, square, suburban, wonderful--that I share with three wonderful people and a stupid dog, all of whom I love very, very much, and all of whom I am lucky enough to be positive in knowing that they love me very, very much. (Not sure about the dog, actually. Will get back to you on that.)

But the fact remains that I've been making my way across the country for the last few years. Not touring, not visiting. Living. And the end result of this is that I don't really have a "place" anymore. I'm from Silver Spring, Maryland, but I don't live there. I go to school in Chicago, but I don't live there. I work in Los Angeles, but I don't live here.

I'm in multiple places at once, but I don't stay anywhere.

Kind of frustrating.

It's that awful question--and most college students know what this feels like--when you're asked to put your home address on a form. You could put your school address, but that will only be valid for the next few months. You could put your home address--but that's one thousand miles away--a bit too far to just stop by and pick something up.

Everything becomes so much more of a production when you're placeless. There's a constant sensation of being the fish out of water, which is only fun if you envision your life as an exciting movie or television show (which I do, so I'm kind of lucky there). Where's the grocery store? IT'S A FUCKING ADVENTURE TO FIND IT. How do I get to work from here? ARE YOU READY FOR AN EPIC JOURNEY?

Shenanigans happen more frequently when you're placeless.

And I'm not homesick, per se. I like my Los Angeles experience so far (mostly because I've gotten astoundingly lucky--knock on wood--with the nicest co-workers and bosses ever, randomly getting a nice apartment to myself for a tiny price, a parking spot...and just being in non-DC summer weather feels lucky). I like the people I've met, I like the people I know from school and from home who are out here with me. I've been able to do things I want to do. For example, right now I'm sitting out on the balcony, writing, in temperatures cool enough to wear a blanket, drink some tea, wear a sweatshirt...

Maybe most importantly, I've realized that having an apartment to myself means that I rarely wear clothing.

I guess I'm halfway-frustrated and halfway-curious. If everything's been in flux so far, what are things like when they settle down? The whole question of where I will settle down is wayyyyy too scary to take on, but it is a little interesting to contemplate the how. And the why.

So yeah. This goes out to the people who have hop-scotched between locations for the last few years--the people who don't know what it's like to be able to swing by home when you're at college, or to stay in the same town for an internship or job over the summer. Because mostly--we're just jealous as hell of those other guys, aren't we?

Break.

I took a break. I doubt anyone actually cares, but sometimes I take breaks.

The thing is. The thing is. I get so fucking sick of my own voice. I completely realize the irony of me blogging that feeling (and "blogging" is such a dirty word, one I don't even like to think about). I do. But someone recently told me that it's okay to rant, and so I rant. Occasionally.

I get sick of my voice. I get sick of my own opinions. If you're reading this and you're wondering whether I'm sick of hearing you talk as well, please believe me when I say that I'm not. Really. And there's no sarcasm there--I understand that the internet is the perpetual slayer of sarcasm. Other people...I like hearing other people talk. Other people are interesting. I like hearing about their lives, because their lives are not my life. Their thoughts are not my thoughts. Their feelings are not my feelings.

I know all about my life and my thoughts and my feelings, you see. I know what I'm thinking. All the fucking time, I know what I'm thinking. It drives me insane. Sometimes. Because my brain is never turned OFF (which is good, I guess, since otherwise I would be dead, which I'm not so keen on). I feel like a hamster on a wheel in here sometimes. Squeaking along. Always squeaking along.

Does everyone feel like this sometime? Do most people look at themselves in the mirror at some point and just go... "Oh my God. SHUT UP"? We must. Right? Because we all have our ways of turning off that annoying yap yap yap yap yap yap...

I do TV. Other people do heroin. I think I came out pretty well on the addiction spectrum, but the fact that I'm on the addiction spectrum at all is a little distressing.

Little by little, I'm starting to look forward to this summer more and more. I'm terrified, yes. There's so many things that I haven't planned out, and for someone with a mental hamster-wheel as frenetic as mine, that's not the best state of affairs. But. BUT. I would so like a chance to see what's out there. You know? Because I've spent the last three years LOCKED UP in Suburbia. And Suburbia's nice for a while, but my hamster wheel keeps reminding me that I have been here for a while and I am almost 21 and I am kind of ready to GO.

And obviously that feeling is hyper-complicated with other emotions and pulls and pushes because human beings are not controlled experiments.

So rant: off. We'll see if I actually have the courage to leave this on my little ass-rag of a blog (still hate that word).

SYFY

Ticking down the last weeks until I join the ranks of those legally able to drink, and it's really depressing. In about a month and a half, I'm going to have nothing to look forward to! What is the future? The light at the end of the academic tunnel? If it is, it's the light of an oncoming train, and I'm about to become a human pancake.

This summer I'm spending in a new city, in a new culture, with new people, three thousand miles away from home and family and friends. There's going to be sun and surf, but I honestly don't know if I'll enjoy it. I'm dreading it even more than I'm excited for it, and I know it's because this summer represents my future in a very real way. I don't understand people who want to spend summers away from home. I'm not one of you lucky bastards. The world, for me, is a little bit brighter when I'm in the house I've grown up in, surrounded by the family that makes me happy.

So that's the problem. And I know what the solution is. I've used it many, many times before, and it's never failed me.

When things get a little bit dark--when emotions get a little bit real--when environments change and become strange...that's when we break out the sci-fi.

It's geeky. I know. I'm a geek. But that doesn't change the fact that a fantasy series got me through my dog's death when I was 13. Sci-fi movies when my grandfathers died. "The X-Files" helped me with a bruised heart. Harry Potter when a friend was hospitalized.

And now, with that oncoming train barreling towards me...well, sometimes "Doctor Who" just happens.

Can we talk for a second about how great sci-fi and fantasy are? I mean, really. For kind of big reasons, too. Yeah, they can transport you to somewhere entirely new, which is fantastic. The imagination behind coming up with something convincing, something that you, the audience, the reader, does not question--that takes serious skills. Hats off to Russell T. Davies, to George Lucas (circa late-'70s), to J.K. Rowling, to Tamora Pierce. Building a world around your audience, once that they've never even dreamed of--fucking great.

The best thing about sci-fi and fantasy, though, is how important one person can be. We're raised in a reality where we're all basically a tiny part of a huge whole, where nothing we, as an individual, can do really matters. We trundle around in our little lives with our little problems bouncing around our heads, and we die our little deaths with the remnants of our little lives collapsing around us. It's all tiny. It's tiny and a bit depressing.

But imagine. Imagine there was a world that literally would BLOW UP if you didn't save the day. And even if you die, you die in an AMAZING way--like, people would write biographies about you for years to come with titles like, "She had a B.A. in being B.A."

That's worth dying for, isn't it? A bit?

I don't get small, emotionally driven stories. I like some of them okay, but usually I'm just thinking, "get over it!" as I watch them or read them. But you can't "get over" an alien invasion, can you? If you're the protagonist in one of those stories, you grab your gun or your magic wand or your Macguffin, and you saunter on into the battle because FUCK IT. The world's gonna end if you don't. You're special, your specific actions matter, things are AWESOME, even if secondary characters are getting slaughtered all around you.

Things are better in a sci-fi story.

I think I'd make a pretty good wizard.

This is your life

Ever had a moment where you just pause and go..."yep. This is your life."?

I'm having one of those right now.

I'm in Norris (because I'm a Norris-person). I'm drinking a latte (because I am a radical, X-TREME caffeine addict). I'm listening to goofy 70's and 80's rock (because I have a reputation to maintain). I'm curled up with my laptop, trying to resist the urge to re-watch old episodes of "Never Mind the Buzzcocks" (because I have a problem). I'm instead reading primary source accounts about child prostitution in Victorian England (NOT for kicks...for homework).

This is your life.

I'm good with it.

How do you role?

A couple of weeks ago, Lauren presented me with a very impressively thought out list of her celebrity role models. Since then, I've been trying to figure out my own. It's surprisingly tough! Especially since it's made me realize that, at least at a distance, I will happily disregard some fairly major vices. Drugs? Whatever. Infidelity? Meh. Murder? Could be worse.

Here's a couple of people that I've come up with so far. Unlike Lauren, I don't have them in any particular order, because I am not that organized. Also unlike Lauren, there are no cats on my list. But that's a failing of mine and mine alone--no one else should be held accountable.

I'm going to say that I'm sorry in advance for this being pretty self-absorbed. I'm basically just trying to work this out for myself, because role models really do have a huge effect on how we live our lives and even the sorts of thoughts that limp through our minds.

(Quick disclaimer--as far as I know, no one on this list has committed murder. Even if they did, I probably would ignore it. Because that's how apathetically I roll.)

1.) Vince Noir
Obviously I really like Noel Fielding. A lot. But I want to BE Vince Noir, his main character on The Mighty Boosh. Not only can he pull off glittery sequined David Bowie-style jumpsuits, but he is indisputably a sunshine-person. Things just sort of...work for him. I would love that to be an aspect of my life. I wish that was something that I could work towards, but I think you have to be born into the cherished ranks of the sunshine people. I'm gonna keep hoping, anyway. Maybe one day I'll be able to fit into a one of his jumpsuits.

2.) Simon Amstell
Whenever I watch an episode of Never Mind the Buzzcocks, which happens pretty much whenever I have some time to kill, I'm always floored by the way he always has a comeback ready. That takes skill, but more than that, that takes smarts! For a tiny, skinny little man, he really is pretty damn fearless, taking on pop stars with entourages and managers and rabid fan bases, and he always, always comes out on top.

Also, I want to cuddle him. And pat his hair.

3.) Alanna
That's right, from the fantasy YA series. She kicks ass, she takes names--she taught me at a very early age that ladies is pimps, too! I do seriously believe that reading these books had a very profound molding effect on my life. Yes, I was horrifically nerdy as a young girl, but I also had very little patience for the stereotypically "girly" stuff. Even now, when people profess their love for things like that, something in the back of my mind goes, "Hahahahahaha." And I kind of like that.



4.) Tina Fey
Of course. Alanna may have taught me that ladies is pimps too, but Tina Fey taught me that "bitch is the new black," and that it's perfectly possible for a woman to have it all. I mean, come on! She's got a successful show, she's famous in her own right, she's got a certain amount of traction in a business that it's very difficult to have any traction whatsoever in, she's happily married, she's got a kid...for someone who plays a perpetual sadsack (whose life has many uncomfortable similarities to my own) on television, she's gone pretty much the opposite direction in reality.

5.) Terry Pratchett
It breaks my heart that he has Alzheimer's. It really does. His books are only second to Tamora Pierce's in the number of times I've re-read them--and that number is only growing. Terry Pratchett is a writer who just sort of effortlessly combines wacky fantasy conventions with really thought-provoking subject matter. Men at Arms, Monstrous Regiment, The Truth, The Fifth Elephant...I cycle them in and out of my dorm room at school because, even though I am at college, even though I'm not supposed to have time for extracurricular reading, I WILL read his books. I'll pick them up and leaf through them, I'll bring them to work with me, I'll read them while I eat. They all have spines that show more wear and tear than they don't. Their pages are wrinkled and stained, the covers are really flimsy because they've been bent so many times. He's a magical writer who has shown me that it's perfectly plausible to make fantastical premises work in a way that people can relate to in a day-to-day way. I honestly can't speak highly enough of him. In a significant way, I feel like Terry Pratchett is how my brain works, and that's just fine with me.

6.) Helen Mirren
IS SHE A WIZARD? HOW THE HELL IS SHE DOING IT?!? SHE IS SO AWESOME AND SO COOL AND SO BEAUTIFUL AND GAH.

Helen Mirren, you are a cheeky minx. One day I will be as cheeky and minx-like as you. I will look as good as you, and I will star in serious period-pieces that win me Academy Awards, but I will also be in movies with whoever the equivalent of Russell Brand is.

(On a side-note, I am possibly looking forward to the Arthur remake more than any other upcoming movie. Just watch the trailer. Helen Mirren + Russell Brand + David Bowie soundtrack = Caitlin's kryptonite.)

7.) Joel Hodgson
Joel Hodgson was one of the creators of the weird 90's show Mystery Science Theater 3000. I pretty much worship him for coming up with one of the most off-beat and creative shows that ever was broadcast. I mean, can you even imagine the pitch for this program? "So there's this guy...and two wisecracking robot friends. One is a gumball dispenser. And they sit around a space station and make jokes about bad scifi B-movies from the 1950s and 60s."

No way that would fly these days. But this show ran for TEN SEASONS. And it seemed so much like something these guys had thrown together in their garage. That's fantastic--that's part of the magic behind The Evil Dead, behind every movie and TV show that seems like it was made from elbow grease and innovation and resourcefulness and a really small crew who just cared.

I'm still trying to come up with other names for this list, because I know that there are tons. But it's fun to just try to figure it out, you know? Why your brain works the way it does, who you're trying to--either consciously or subconsciously--become.

Fuck Sheen and Lorre

So here we are in aftermath/midst of the whole Chuck Lorre/Charlie Sheen shitstorm. The entitled, obnoxious show-runner and his equally entitled, obnoxious star square off against one another in a fight that I find it difficult to care about. For one thing, they're tearing apart one of the worst scripted shows on television. For another, if they kill one another, I think the world would probably turn out the better for it.

I'm reading about this, and I keep finding myself thinking, "where's the love, people?" Not necessary for Lorre or Sheen--I couldn't give a shit about either of them--but for shows themselves. Sheen gets, what? $2 million per episode? That price tag is a obvious sign that he's in it for the money, which I guess is okay. Sort of. Lorre probably has the same deal going on. Between all the crappy projects he's involved in, he's most likely rolling in cash.

But where's the love? Where's the love for television? Where's the joy? When you've got two nasty people ripping into each other over a horrible program, it's pretty apparent that neither of them actually cares about the show, or the audience. If the program goes off the air for the rest of the season--which Two and a Half Men has--you won't find either of them weeping too hard. They don't care. See what I mean? No joy?

And this is a problem that I'm noticing in a lot of television. Either the show takes itself too seriously (I'm gonna start looking sideways at Bones here), or absolutely no one cares. Two and a Half Men is a good example of the latter state of affairs. Bones...has just visibly degenerated into a series of cliches. That don't seem to find themselves cliched. Will-they-won't-they has gone off the deep end, and every single thing that most of the characters say seem to point to the very small frame of reference and the very large age of most of the writers (Facebook episode, anyone?)

Where's the whimsy? Sort of on 30 Rock, although I can kind of feel it waning. I still love the show to death, but it's pretty one-note. I'm putting a joy-vote in for How I Met Your Mother, because that show isn't afraid to draw from actual experiences, to make things silly, to play with timeline, character development, reality. One moment everyone's floating along, and the next minute we're dealing with serious, adult issues. And the show manages to do this in a fantastic, deft way. Other American shows that seem to be joyous and whimsical? Probably Psych, Community and even the Vampire Diaries (the show is fully aware of what it is and plunges ahead with its identity in a way that I can't help but respect).

I'm definitely a TV-idealist, and all this whole Lorre-Sheen bullshit is extremely depressing. How can people so easily throw away something so wonderful? I mean, the show is crap, but the potential for greatness with TV is so...HUGE. TV reflects the changing political and social landscape around us, but it also causes some of that political and social change. It's a powerful tool that people often disregard, and here are Lorre and Sheen shitting all over it, and I'm not cool with that.

Labors of love. That's what it should be for everyone (including me, in the future, when I'm all successful and living in Hollywood as will of course inevitably happen). Can I have my Mighty Boosh--something offbeat and quirky, but which still inspires a massive cult following because it's obvious how much the creators care? Can I have my Firefly? Can I have my Twin Peaks or Northern Exposure or Psych or How I Met Your Mother?

These shows are all a little weird, which I think is because you can't truly love something that you don't perceive as different. If it was the same, you'd just focus that attention on the similar schlock that's already out there. But if what you have involves a skinny guy in a mirror-ball suit singing songs about soup or a woman with a log for a baby or fucking Alaska--that's magic.

I love television. Why the HELL don't Chuck Lorre and Charlie Sheen?

Also, fuck Two and a Half Men.

DON'T LISTEN TO THE DOG.

Here's a confession that I feel compelled to make. It's not particularly shocking or interesting, but it's clogging up my mind-tubes at the moment and I can't seem to do anything about it, so I'm foisting if off on your poor beleaguered eyes. Enjoy.

I've got voices in my head. Not in a tragic, schizophrenic way--I don't have anthropomorphic animals telling me to kill major political figures--or a religious way. They're voices of people that I want desperately to be like, the voices of people that I idolize wayyyyyy the hell more than I ought to. They're the voices of my ideals.

Anyone who has had a conversation with me recently (and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I know that I'm doing it, but I honestly can't help it) probably knows that lately the number-one voice has been that of the Mighty Boosh. For those of you who don't know who they are (and again, since most of you who read this are my friends, that's unlikely), they're this British comedy group with a TV show and various tours. They're whimsical, they're endlessly imaginative, they don't seem to experience limits to what they can and can't do. The best thing about them, though, is just to listen to the leaders of the group, Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding, in interviews. Do it now, actually--it's better than reading whatever I happen to churn out here.. I'll be here when you get back. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQBYdtGSvLA

It's effortless, right? The way they flit from subject to subject with one another, turning out great ideas that make you laugh just thinking about them. (I said I idolized them, I wasn't exaggerating). And so I have their voices clogging up my brain, making it hard to get any real thinking done. I want to be them, to have that manic creative energy, to be able to come up with situations, one-liners, quips, jokes, cavorts, adventures like that at as easy as breathing. That's the dream, isn't it? To turn a game, to turn a joking conversation into a career?

Of course I will always have Tina Fey's voice in my head, more as an encouraging voice than as inspiration. Again, anyone who has ever talked to me knows how I feel about Tina Fey--specifically that I want to have her babies and more or less worship the ground that she walks on. Lady is awesome, hands-down. There were famous TV writers and show-runners before her--but she was one of the first women to actually make a name for herself as a writer first and an actor second. She's the anti-Chuck Lorre (she is actually talented and she turns out a good product), and the world needs more of those superheroes.

Finally, I'm going to have to confess that I have Tamora Pierce's voice in my brain. She's the oldest tenant there, in that she moved in when I was about eight and I haven't been able to get her out since. My first short story, embarrassingly titled "Princess of Thieves," which I wrote when I was 11, was pretty much a photocopy of the Alanna series. And here I am, 20 years old, and I'm still engaging in a lively, enthusiastic, and--above all--heartfelt debate with my friends and my sister about who should be cast in the absolutely imaginary movie of that series. We care about this series, even twelve years later. I'm not eight years old and I still remember vast sections of the books and carry her characters close to my heart. Tamora Pierce is the woman who started me writing in the first place. She's a good voice to have around.

(If anyone is curious about the cast list we have come up with so far, it is--with a few of my own embellishments, sorry Lauren--Eoin Macken as George, Ian Somerhalder as Duke Roger, Stephen Fry as Sir Myles, Isaiah Mustafah as Raoul, Bradley James as Gary, Colin Morgan as Alex, Camilla Belle as Thayet, and Jamie Bamber as Liam Ironarm).