The art of wearing shoes...

And yes, gentlemen, (the ladies are already aware) shoe wearing is an art.

See, a girl can't just find a pair of shoes she likes and buy them -- even though us gals wish it were that easy, it isn't.

Before we buy them or even try them on, we must first analyze them and figure out which category they fit into.

And again to the gentlemen, yes, lady-shoes fall into different categories. Here they are:

Walking shoes -- you can wear these all day and still be comfortable.

Standing shoes -- you can stand around in these for hours making them perfect for cocktail parties, but you can't walk very far.

Three hour shoes -- you can do anything in these -- walk, stand, dance, you name it -- but only for three hours at a time. At the end of three hours, the comfortable factor stops working.

Sitting in the corner and looking cute shoes -- the heels on these are generally really high and really slim, so you need to either use the valet service, or get dropped off in front of your location because no way in hell you can walk the few blocks from where you parked. No way you can stand for long periods, either. You can, however, easily make it to your seat and back out again, later.

Dancing shoes -- you can dance all night.

"My feet hurt" shoes -- these one's hurt your feet no matter what you do, but they're so cute, you wear them anyway and get drunk so you don't feel the pain.

Bedroom shoes -- these one's are self-explanatory. (and if they are not, then I think I may feel sad for you... )

Trick shoes -- you can look at a pair of these and think they'll be appropriate as standing shoes, but then you try them on and realize they tricked you. They aren't standing shoes, but "sitting in the corner and looking cute" shoes, so now you have to decide whether the price is worth it and whether you have any outfits to go with them in their new category.

Ah, shoes. Gotta love shoes! Wondering why I have shoes on my mind?

Huh? Are you?

Yup, you guessed it! Mama's got a new pair of shoes. Earlier today, these little beauties followed me home.



Can we all please take a moment and appreciate how frickn' HOT these shoes are...?
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Ah... thank you. I feel the love.

Anyhow, to answer your question (yes, I know you are asking it in your mind, right now), these ones fall into the three hour category.

xo

The Cove

So, I finally got around to watching the 2010 Oscar-winning documentary, THE COVE.

If you're wondering why I, who seriously loves well-made documentaries, took so long to watch it, it's because I knew the subject matter -- the slaughter of dolphins in Japan.

Cruelty to humans or animals not only upsets me, it also hurts me deeply. Shit, I can't even go to the zoo (haven't been for YEARS) because I can't stand to see the sad little animals in cages, so you can imagine how much I had to prepare myself before I could watch dolphins being slaughtered.

No matter how much I prepared myself, though, if the documentary would have just been two hours of cruelty to dolphins, I would have had to turn it off.

Thankfully, it wasn't.

It was really interesting and shed light on an atrocity that I didn't even know went on in our world. It also made me really appreciate the film makers who put their own safety at stake to expose what happens in the cove and the fact that the Japanese government is not only quite aware of it, but condones it and also covers it up.

The actual footage of the slaughters I did find distressing and as much as the world needs to know what goes on, I'm glad the film makers didn't exploit it for shock value, and instead gave us just a glimpse of the horror.

At least this way, when I close my eyes tonight, I won't have the images of the bloody sea in my head.

Instead, I'll have thoughts on why there aren't more people in the world who care enough about the suffering of those who are defenseless and choose to make a film about it.

Speaking of making films...

I can see exactly where I'm heading one day -- making these types of documentaries.

Seriously.

Who knows when and who knows what they will be about, but rest assured, one day...

LIFE and the BBC

In late 2009, the BBC aired a 10 episode nature documentary called Life, narrated by David Attenburough, and in early 2010, the Discovery channel released the same series, narrated by Oprah Winfrey.

A couple of months ago, I caught the first two Oprah-narrated episodes on Discovery and after the show(s), the channel claimed that the remaining episodes would be aired every Sunday, starting that week.

HA HA!

They lied.

All week long the advertisements were everywhere about the upcoming episode that Sunday, but then Sunday came, and the promised episode didn't air.

Needless to say, I was choked. I really enjoy documentaries (seen every episode of Ross Kemp on Gangs, at least twice) and I was pumped about this one. From what I saw of the first two episodes, the HD footage is just stunning.

Besides looking absolutely beautiful, the series is quite interesting. It takes you to every "corner" of the world to witness the behavior that livings things have evolved to, in order to survive.

Anyway, for the past two months, everyone around me has had to listen to me bitch about the Discovery channel and how I feel that they should be ashamed of themselves for "false advertising".

Getting people all excited for the next show, then not following through, c'mon!

So, apparently my dear friend Mike got tired of my bitching about Discovery because guess what he gave me today?

The whole series on DVD. 'Course, after he gave it to me, he told me he didn't want to hear "anything about that fucking show", ever again.

*laughs*

So, guess what I am doing tonight? You guessed it! I'm watching as many episodes as I can squeeze in before I get sleepy, so I should be good for about four of them.

Guess what else I'm doing? Ignoring my work. Oh, man, at any given time I probably have at least 4-5 projects happening -- specs, assignments, research, whatever. But I am ignoring it all in favor of watching this show.

That should tell you how fascinating I find the series. It is not often that I ignore work.

If you are like me, and happen to enjoy well-made interesting documentaries, then I highly recommend you check out the series.

Here is a link for more information.

A word to live your life by...

OPTIMISM.

-noun

1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.

2. the belief that good ultimately predominates over evil in the world.

3. the belief that goodness pervades reality.

4. the doctrine that the existing world is the best of all possible worlds.

I am a very optimistic person by nature and have been asked many times by many different people why that is so. I tell them all the same thing.

I am optimistic because I choose to be.

And before you either laugh, "suck your teeth", roll your eyes and/or groan at that statement, hear me out. (and yes, I've been on the receiving end of any and all of those responses)

Optimism is an individual choice that is available to each and every one of us, no matter our personal "stature" in life.

You can choose to let life's trials and tribulations get you down, or you can choose not to. It really is up to you.

If you look hard enough with pessimism, you will be able to find the negative side to any situation. But if you look hard enough with optimism, well... you'll not only find the positive side, you will also go much further in life and achieve a greater happiness.

You may not be aware of this, but people are attracted to you by your energy and you actually get back what you put out. If you surround yourself with negative thoughts and negative energy, you will only attract negative people and negative situations.

The same holds true for the positive.

Ask yourself this:

Would you rather spend time with someone who is positive and happy all of the time, or would your prefer the company of someone who incessantly bitches about how shitty their life is?

Or ask yourself this:

Would you rather be optimistic and wrong some of the time, or pessimistic and right all of the time?

And, wow... ask yourself this:

Is it just me or is this post filled with cli-fucking-ches?

*laughs*

Ah, well, at least the cliches are positive!

xo

No question about it!

Someone asked me what was one of my favorite movies in the past year and I just had to choose this one:

The Stoning of Soraya M.

As much as it hurts me to watch these types of films, these are the types of films I love to watch the most.

The films that make me feel.

I cried so hard and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Even hours after I finished watching it, I still felt the sting of tears and a residual sadness in my heart.

I can't believe that in this day and age, these types of atrocity's still happen to people.

Trust me when I say that my heart is broken for the real Soraya M. I know how much her story affected me so I can not even imagine how it must have felt to her while she suffered through it.

At the end, I'm sure she prayed for death to come quickly.

Too bad it didn't.

Her death was slow and brutal, and as hard as it was for me to watch it, I stand up and applaud the director for choosing to show the true reality.

There was no pretense and no "sugar-coating". He filmed it the way it happened. It took the actress almost as long to die in the movie as it took the real Soraya M. to die in life.

It made me feel sick, yet I couldn't look away. Other than the tears streaming down my face, I don't think I moved at all, until the closing credits.

Brilliant film making, in my opinion, and definitely the type of movie I strive to make one day.

I've dabbled in horror and done not too badly in comedy, but my true passion is in telling stories that connect with the audience on an emotional level.

I want you to cry.

Because if you cry, you won't forget the suffering. And if you don't forget the suffering that others experience, perhaps you'll do something about it.

The Heart Of A Writer...

Everyone's a writer, you know?

Seriously.

Everyone has a story to tell. I can't even tell you how many times someone has said, upon finding out that I am a writer...

"Oh my God, have I got a story for you! Everyone, and I mean everyone I know, tells me how my life should be made into a movie."

Then they proceed to go into some long-winded explanation about their said life which, in the beginning, I would stand and politely listen to.

Times have changed, however, and I'm getting pretty good at cutting them off mid-sentence by tossing them a pleasant smile along with, "Ever thought about writing it yourself?"

Some people are intelligent, get the message and change the subject, but most answer with a "Yeah, I have. Got any advice?"

To which I usually reply with a laugh, "Advice? Are you kidding? I'm still learning."

But you know what? Today, I actually do have some advice.

And this advice isn't really meant for the types of people I mentioned above, this advice is meant for any aspiring "real" writers out there who happen to read this blog.

The single most important piece of advice I can give you is this...

MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE HEART OF A WRITER.

Know why?

When this business gets you down, (and it will), when this business strips your self-esteem (and it will), when this business makes you question your very sanity (and I GUARANTEE it will), the only thing that will stop you from quitting, is your heart.

When your friends and family tell you you're crazy for giving up your whole life to pursue your career (and they will), when you leave your significant other because they gave you an ultimatum, "Writing or me" (don't know if you will, but I did), when you find that you can't even go out on a date because you need to stay home and work (again, I GUARANTEE it will), the only thing that will stop you from quitting, is your heart.

When you're broke (and you will be), because you take every meager cent you make writing and sink it back into your budding career (and you will), when you have to stay home on Saturday night to put together a 50 page funding proposal (and eventually you will) while everyone else you know is out on the town celebrating a birthday, the only thing that will keep you from quitting, is your heart.

It's also your heart that is going to keep you from killing the "do-gooders" that just love to spew their unwelcome advice when they find out what kind of life you lead.

I swear to God, every person that looks at me with smug satisfaction while saying in a condescending tone, "Well, if you would get a real job... ", I want to kill them.

Yup.

I would take great pleasure in staring directly into their bulging eyes while I choke the shit out of them, making sure that mine are the last words they hear...

"Oh, you mean a real job, like yours? The one that pays you barely enough to survive and the one that you hate so much, you BITCH about it every single day of your life? The job that fills you with such negativity, you allow it to infect those around you? Is that the type of real job you mean?"

See why you need to have the heart for it?

Not only are you going to find yourself smashing your head against a mile-thick cement wall trying to break in, you're also going to have to deal with the people around you who truly don't understand why you do it.

But you know what? I don't begrudge any of it because I know, in my heart, that every sacrifice I make now while I'm still learning my craft, will contribute to my eventual success as a screenwriter, in the end.

In this business, you pay your dues with BLOOD, SWEAT, and TEARS. And you will pay your dues for what seems like forever, before you can even take one tiny step forward.

If your heart is not in it, then you will not succeed.

You will quit. But unfortunately, it won't be before this business shreds every ounce of self-confidence you possess and strips your soul bare.

In this last year and a half, some of the challenges I've faced have brought me down, more than once. I've fought to pull myself back up only to face something even worse, that kicked me back down again.

I've shed many tears, I've felt sorry for myself, I've raged at the universe, and I've even contemplated quitting...

But never for long.

See, I can't quit.

My heart won't let me.

So to all you aspiring writers out there, this is the only advice I am comfortable giving you because it's something I learned through experience...

Make sure you have the heart of a writer before deciding to embark on this journey because it ain't easy.

No.

It definitely ain't easy.

And as crazy as this makes me sound, I actually do love it.

CAREFUL what you wish for...

Lately, I've been feeling a little restless and uneasy, and wasn't sure why.

So this morning (lunchtime), there I was, reading the paper and drinking my tea, when the answer came upon me... the reason I am restless is because I am boring. Not only that, I'm BORED.

All I do is write. And if I'm not writing, then I'm either learning, researching, or somehow trying to advance my career.

That is all fine and dandy since I understood what sacrifices I would have to make in order to focus on my career, but I've come to the conclusion that all work and no play makes Jill (Lisa) a dull girl.

I decided it's time for me to get my groove back and start dating again. Not seriously dating because I truly don't have the time for that, but casually dating would be a blast and just what I need right now.

So I finished my tea with a little "prayer" to the universe asking them to send some excitement my way.

Not ten minutes later, my phone rings.

My daughter, Natasha, in a state of absolute hysteria, is on the other end. I gotta tell you, as a parent, you NEVER want to receive a hysterical phone call from your child. She was freaking out so bad, I couldn't understand what she was saying.

All sorts of horrifying possibilities went through my mind while I tried to get her to take a deep breath, calm down and tell me what's wrong.

I finally managed to decipher the words, "something", "in my room", and "please help me!".

WTF? I stumbled over myself asking her all sorts of questions. Who? What? Where? Do you need me to call the police?"

I think my reference to the police broke through her hysteria because she calmed down enough to gasp out that a squirrel was in her bedroom and she needed me to come over RIGHT NOW!

Hopped in my car and whipped over there. (10 min away)

Guess how I found her?

In her room, "geared up" with her rubber gloves and a snow shovel, and frozen to the spot, afraid to move a muscle.

Of course I had to take a picture... here she is screaming at me to "stop taking pictures, and get the fricking squirrel out of my house before it comes all the way in!"



I lifted the curtains, and HOLY SHIT, there it was!



Using the handle of the snow shovel, I tried to gently "shoo" it to the other side of the ledge, where the window was open, all the while Natasha was screaming for me to "Be careful! Please be careful, don't let it get away!"

Unfortunately, instead of heading out the open window like it was supposed to, it LEAPED to the ground and scurried across the floor.

Tash and I both flipped and took off running. So did the squirrel.

That squirrel was a blur, streaking about the house... up the wall, down the wall, across the floor, on the table, on the counter, it even hopped into the frying pan.

While all this was going on, guess where Natasha was? I'll tell ya...

Jumping up and down on her couch, screaming her head off. If the truth be told, I was sort of screaming my head off, too.

It finally tired itself out, and ended up in the kitchen.

Using a long wooden spoon to block it's movements, I managed to get it cornered behind the juicer, while Natasha hollered instructions from the safety of her couch.

"Don't let it scratch you! One scratched Kara and she had to get rabies shots".

Yeah, thanks for that, kid. I'm already scared shitless of the thing, now I get to worry about rabies.

(incidentally, I think something is wrong with my camera -- it was MUCH LARGER in real life)


I yelled for her to get me a box and help me... help me she did.

She charges over, grabs an empty wine cooler box from the recycle bin, tosses it in my general direction and takes off back to the safety of her couch.

My plan was to see if I can "guide" the squirrel inside the box with the spoon.

I was scared that if I touched it, it would grab the spoon and use it to climb up my arm and I could just imagine what it would do then. What if it got inside my shirt?

I decided to test the squirrel first, so I, um... poked it.

*hangs head in shame*

I can't even believe I am admitting this, but yes, I poked a squirrel with the handle end of a wooden spoon. (just wanted to make sure it wasn't going to run up my arm, remember?)

Guess what it did when I poked it?

GRRRRRRRR!!

It reared up and growled at me. I shit you not -- that squirrel GROWLED at me. I didn't even know squirrels could growl.

Not only that, it grabbed the end of the spoon! I didn't wait to see if it was going to run up my arm, I dropped the spoon and got the hell out of there.

Made it to the safety of the living room, and Natasha was gone. The second she heard the squirrel growl, she took off to her room.

All I could hear was heavy breathing coming from her room, and her saying to herself over and over, "Oh shit, Oh shit, Please, get it out of my house".

I finally snuck up on the squirrel and tossed the box on it, then I wrapped the box, squirrel and all, in a towel and charged for the front door.

And I have to *hang my head in shame* one more time... I confess that instead of placing the box outside gently so the squirrel could walk out, I just tossed the whole package out the door and slammed it shut.

After all was said and done, Natasha and I collapsed onto the couch to collect ourselves... we both sat there for quite awhile, too, traumatized as we were.

Once we both collected our thoughts enough to actually talk about the incident, Natasha got mad. Mad at the squirrel.

More than mad, actually. On the verge of INDIGNANT, talking about "who the hell does that squirrel think it is, anyway? I can't believe it came into my house. That's an invasion of privacy", then she shoots me an extra-disgusted look...

"You realize, of course, that I can never open my bedroom window again?".

Well, I did wish for some excitement in my life, and I guess I got it. What a day!

Since it appears that wishes really do come true, next time I'm gonna wish for... *blushes*... my daughter reads this, so I think I'll leave it at that.

And BTW, Natasha:

Maybe you should invest in a screen.

Hauntingly beautiful...

Just me and my dog.

We were up at Buntzen Lake today, and had the whole beach to ourselves. Not another soul in sight.

After throwing the stick about a bazillion times, I sat on a log to rest my arms, and soak up the view, and the silence...

A silence suddenly broken by the most hauntingly beautiful sound I have ever heard. It touched my very soul, and I felt the warmth of it spread through me.

I turned around to look for the source...

Yards behind me stood an ancient Chinese man, his aged body so frail, a strong wind might blow him over.

Yet, as he stood there, with arms open wide, and his head thrown back, his physical body meant nothing.

The power of his voice, as he sang his very heart out, showed the strength of his soul.

I didn't understand his words, but it didn't matter. His voice carried the meaning, and it brought a tear to my eye.

A happy tear.

My morning on the beach, is a moment in time I will never forget. This man shared something with me today, something only between him and I.

Two strangers.

Makes one question what is truly important in life, doesn't it?