Currently Reading

11/22/63 by Stephen King

Format: Audiobook

Thoughts: I like it more so far than I thought I would. I'm about a quarter of the way through (it's long!) and things are getting creepy. I relish the idea of the obdurate past barring an easy time of what we think we should be able to control.

A Friend of the Family by Lauren Grodstein

Format: Kindle

Thoughts: This book, a sophomore novel, is good. As always, I appreciate a well-written narrative from a character the opposite gender of the author. The story is tense with suburban woe and the inalienable truth of self-serving human nature. The plot isn't sweeping, or epic, but its themes are real. 

Delirium by Lauren Oliver

Format: Kindle and audiobook 

(I'm having a hard time getting through this, so I've switched from Kindle to audio)

Thoughts: I loved, really loved, Lauren Oliver's Before I fall so I was happy to shell out full price for the Kindle format special edition e-book. But after the first couple of chapters, I put it down and wasn't able to pick it up again. The tone is a bit depressive, but I can feel the dampened rage bubbling beneath the wet blanketed surface and I look forward to getting on with reading this. 

How Could I Forget? To Live is to Love, to Love is to Weep

How could I forget the single most heart-wrenching book of my 2011? This year, I read A Dog's Purpose: A Novel for Humans by W. Bruce Cameron.

My darling Scott started reading this book to me at night in the late summer. Scott employed a perfectly-honed voice for the puppy narrator, all mischief and wonder, unabashed love and learning. I was starting to fall in love with the story until - well, I won't give away what the major plot device of this book is, but let's just say until.

I cried uncontrollably. I pressed my face into my pillow and wept. Scott tried to comfort me, laying his Braille Reader down and placing a hand on my shoulder. "Carleigh," he whispered, "it's all right." But it wasn't all right. I insisted he never read another word from that book to me again. I couldn't take it. I asked for Bailey (who usually runs away immediately at the sound of my oncoming tears) and Scott dutifully retrieved him. I hugged my dog to me and cried some more. I love that dog. We did not return to the book.

Then, Scott and I holidayed in New England this fall. We were driving between Boston and Maine and I needed to be read to to stay awake while driving after a red eye. I inhaled and made my request. I wanted to try again. I wanted to hear A Dog's Purpose. So Scott read. And I cried. And he read more that night, and again the next day between Maine and New Hampshire, between Concord and Montpelier. We finished that beautiful book in Providence, late at night, and again I wept. Scott held me close for a long time. We laughed and talked about Bailey. I cried a little more. And then we slept.

Having a dog (and a dog having you, truth be told) is one of the great joys of life. Loving Bailey has opened my heart in ways I never knew it could be opened. I am a better person because of him and I am an even better person for having read A Dog's Purpose.

We've got to choose our dog books carefully. (Where the Red Fern Grows? Yes. The Art of Racing in the Rain? No.) I recommend this book to anyone who needs a shot of emotion straight to the heart, or needs to be reminded that there are always second (and third, and fourth) chances to get things right.

My Favorite Books of 2011

Some of the below were published prior to this year but I read them in 2011 and this is a totalitarian blog, so I get to do what I want. These are the books that I loved the most in 2011.

Big Girl Small, Rachel DeWoskin (2011)
I first fell in love with a character with dwarfism many years ago, reading the beautiful Stones From the River by Ursula Hegi. So I was happy and tingly to read Rachel DeWoskin's debut novel, the story of Judy, a short girl with a big voice (both literally and literarily). This wasn't the romantic, disabled-girl-with-a-heart-of-gold-overcomes-life's-challenges tome that I thought it would be, though. This was young adult fiction with a major twist of realism: Judy is victimized in the same way that young women are victimized every day and she has to deal with it just like every young woman has to deal with it - regardless of her disability. DeWoskin's take on the very real and horrific sexual encounters of the young really got to me. I recommend this book for anyone who likes strong but fallible female characters.

Room, by Emma Donoghue (2010)
Room was published in 2010 and I can't believe I didn't read it before 2011. I feel like this novel completely expanded the reach of the grand literary device of POV. Never before have I read such a terrifyingly moving and accurate narration. Jack turns 5 in the first chapter. With painful accuracy of this child's development, Jack's world starts to come into focus and we wish we had never looked. Room is our worst nightmares come true; Room is a truth of the human condition that cannot be ignored.

Sweet Valley Confidential, Francine Pascal (2011)
I read this. I'm not going to lie; I never lie. I read this book in one giant sweep of adoration and affection, despite the fact that I threw the thing from my hands in frustration every other chapter. Why? Because every other chapter is written in Jessica's hyperbolized voice. Yuck! I want a rewrite! I demand a rewrite! More importantly, I want more!! This book makes the list just because I'm a sucker for sentimentality. My major criticism with the story line (Elizabeth has lost Todd to Jessica; they're both lost without her, yada yada yada) is that it isn't true to the franchise's plot lines and character arcs, but who cares. My favorite books of the series were always Jessica's Secret Diaries, the ones where we found out that she and Todd cheated together many, many, many times. So, no surprise.

Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl (published many times, first anonymously in 1949 and later with Frankl's name in several reprintings)
My therapist recommended I read Man's Search for Meaning because I'm a Holocaust fetishist but also because I need some help dealing with my own suffering. Frankl's part Holocaust memoir, part Introduction to Logotherapy was a compelling read. I could see, taste, smell Auschwitz. I could also see, taste, smell a palpable will to live, the waxing and waning of hope in the most extreme circumstances, and I could also understand the strong desire to create something out of otherwise the opposite of something - a vacuum of destruction. We are broken, again and again by life, by ourselves, by others. We are rebuilt again and again by life, ourselves, by others. This book was meaningful to me in 2011; may it be meaningful to generations to come.

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer (2009). I became a vegan in 2009. To bolster my willpower, I read this important and meticulously-researched work of nonfiction by the always-impressively boom-voiced Foer. This book was life-changing for me because it was absolutely riveting. A stylistic choice I did not appreciate, however, was the exclusion of footnotes and sources until the end. I would have much rather had every fact's citation nearby than having had to wait until the end to try to absorb some of the intensive and extensive body of research (not that I didn't believe the unbelievable findings of Foer, but that some of the shit in that book was so crazy - I needed to know more; I needed the truth of the truth). So, I am vegan still, and I sometimes hold this book in my hands and just shudder with the truth of what we call food in this country.

Coverage!

I finished my current script; the PDF was sent off to a professional studio reader. I got my coverage back. What a terrifying, titillating experience.I hate criticism, but I cannot stress how completely essential it is, both to take and to consider.

Here is the logline to The Trees of Tantytown, according to the professional reader:

In a small American town, the treacle trees have seemingly been over-­‐harvested and are drying up, causing mayhem and rebellion amongst citizens, as they watch the town’s industrial magnate take over the treacle industry, leaving them to ‘eat dirt’.

So, if you want to buy my script, I guess its for sale. Email me!

Neglectful, Ambivalent

I am neglectful, I am ambivalent

I get an itch to write. I can feel this in my fingertips, they want to be moving. There is a barrier, though; it is invisible and impentrable, and I do not write. I do not exercise my fingers as they want to be exercised. I do not let the words flow from my brain to my face to my neck to my shoulders to my arms to my elbows to my wrists to my hands to my fingers to my fingertips. And then I do.

It is not enough to text me your thanks – put my name on your acknowledgements page. It is not enough to laugh at my jokes – tell me you love me.

I have been practicing saying “I don’t know” and “I’m not sure” because I don’t say it enough. Which is weird because my overriding internal emotional state is that of “I don’t know” and “I’m not sure”. I cringe at perceiving myself as being perceived as being ambivalent. I am ambivalent. I am infallible to you, I am errant to me. 

Thoughts and Naughts

I'm tired and you are restless; this is tongue-in-cheek and I'm as serious
As a heart attack
I read a poem today that ended with the ocean telling the poet to get out of the way; it has work to do.

Words

Life is bitter and sweet; our language limits us and sets us free.

A 180 Degree Turn

I fell out of bed last night. I know that I was dreaming but what I really know is that I was jolted into consciousness in a single moment comprised of freefall and a sudden intake of breath.

I Googled this morning to see if falling out of bed is a symptom of some impending neurodegenerative disease. As usual, Googling for medical diagnoses is not really a good idea.

Also, I somehow flipped around 180 degrees. My left side is sore and bruised, but when I came to I was facing the bed. I was never this athletic as a child.

I'm Divergent

Scott and I are currently reading Divergent at bedtime. This dystopian YA novel (duh) by Veronica Roth is actually pretty good! It started out bland, even slow, but the momentum is definitely picking up.

In Divergent, citizens live in a world that is ruled by, and divided into, 5 factions. The Dauntless revere courage over all else. The Erudite, knowledge. The Amity, pacifism. The Candor, truth and the Abdication, selflessness. At the age of 16 all citizens partake in the Choosing ceremony. Before the ceremony, they attend an aptitude test wherein they can learn more their own leanings. This is interesting to me in several ways. Firstly, it is clear from the start that the aptitude tests are only for each citizen's need to know. They aren't supposed to tell anyone else, and they can still choose the faction they want to belong to, regardless of the faction for which they have a natural aptitude.

Citizens are born and raised in their factions. The main character and her brother are brought up as Abdication and while I won't give away what factions the two characters choose, it must be noted that once a faction has been chosen, the choice can never be rescinded. If a young citizen transfers factions, that is it. They can never go back, they are more than likely never to see their family again (there is such a thing as visiting days throughout the year, but the sense is that culturally, once you transfer, you are dead to your home team).

There is a scene in which a young Amity chooses Dauntless. On the way to the Dauntless headquarters, the new transfer becomes scared and can not go through with the first initiate task. So, he was cut out of the faction. Just like that. His is now factionless, irredeemable, and left to live a life of solitude and transience.

At this I made Scott stop reading. I had an opinion that needed voicing.

I feel that this (fictional) society should give be more accommodating to transfers. This teenager has chosen Dauntless, yes (presumably because of the results of his aptitude testing), but he working against 16 years of Amity lifestyle. Is there no handicapping for youths who must fight against their nurture to embody their nature? I strongly feel that this is unfair. I guess that's why I'm a disability services coordinator. I believe in accommodation and equal access.

So then, because I was trying to put off actually going to sleep, I asked Scott which faction he would choose. He said either Erudite or Dauntless. I said, "I knew you were going to say that!"

I would choose either Erudite of Abdication. I feel strongly connected to both philosophies. I guess that's why I'm Divergent.

Terri: A Review

Because I basically do everything Roger Ebert recommends I do, I saw the new mumblecore flick Terri this weekend. Terri is a quiet commentary on the loneliness of adolescence and the inseparable duality of good hearts and bad hearts.

Terri is an overweight, introspective high schooler. He wears pajamas every day because "they fit". He has a hard time with his male classmates but the wannabe/not-so-pretty girl classmates seem to like him. They especially like him when he fingers (pun intended - see the movie!) a pretty/popular girl for bad behavior during classtime.

But Terri is so much more; he is his ailing uncle's caretaker. He is trusting and loving and sees the goodness in everyone - never not giving anyone a second chance. Terri is the kind of kid who will be just fine. I fell in love with Terri a little bit, and I'm glad I spent the money to see the film.

There's nothing wrong with me, or why I love access

Today is Blog For Access day. So, I am blogging for access.

It is no secret that my life and world are filled with and fulfilled by disability - in my community, in my profession, in my home, in my heart, and in my head.

Yes, there is cynicism and and snarkiness - like when  a colleague suggests that transcribing their audio critiques for the whole class so that one deaf student can participate in the workshop is a time-consuming hassle and I simply stare back, raise an eyebrow and chortle, "oh really?".

Yes, there is some naivete and overeagerness - like when a new acquaintance confesses that they are afraid of losing their sight and I make horrifying, gregarious proclamations about how amazing it will be when they can't see anything at all and how, oh, how amazing Audible.com and Voiceover are.

The fact is, disability is not definite, nor a definition. Just as every person has an individual consciousness, every person with or without a disability has an individual experience. Living with a disability is natural and normal for many people. Conversely, many people are not comfortable with their new (or old) disabilities. Part of being a person is learning and growing and along the way, integrating aspects of ourselves into our identities.

If someone were to ask me what the hardest part is about living with a disability, I would say it is other people. But that's a cop out, too. For every bank teller who asks me instead of my partner whether or not he can sign his own name, there is a waitress who puts the coffee down with a simple "Coffee's on the left". If access is tolerance, than it works both ways. We can and should expect access and awareness of access. We also can and should educate and inform about what access means to each and every one of us individually.

The biggest lesson of my adult life has been to slow down, to take a deep breath, and to listen. Let us all do this a little more - and just watch the access grow.

I'm moving to Berkeley

I'm excited and nervous; my stomach hurts and I can't stop smiling. Life swirls into lollypops and raindrops and hurricanes and Ford Farlanes.

My love affair with San Francisco started in May of 2005; I arrived here, in the foggy outerlands of the Sunset, and promptly laid down my burden of clothes and books and attitude. Since then I have lived in the Richmond, the Panhandle, the Sunset (again), the Mission (both outer and inner), and Ingleside. I have seen every face of this funny little 7x7 city and laughed/cried/ran for my life on nearly every street.

So, I am moving to Berkeley. I am mourning my childhood and embarking upon my adulthood. I still have all my clothes and attitude; a single Kindle now holds all my books. I guess I am growing up. I don't like it one bit.

Visiting Tunisia

I dreamt last night that I was to visit Tunisia, begrudgingly. My brothers and I were being shuffled towards the departure gate and a final level of Tunisian security scrutiny. I remembered, as it became my turn, that I had forgotten my passport. I would miss this flight, but catch the same one the next day. I could go home to our house on Walton Street and retrieve my passport, but the caveat was that I had to leave all of my belongings and money with the Tunisian security detail.

I was home at Walton Street when a crash brought me outside: a car had driven up onto the lawn and a woman emerged, screaming at me that my brothers had been committing credit fraud using her family's identification and financials, ruining them. She told me that she was going to kill them. I told her that she had no proof and that she could not threaten bodily harm to other people. At that point, the woman's husband came up to the scene and tried to restrain/calm down his wife. He told me that she was upset and that they would try to go through the police to get the fraudulent activity to stop. I told him that she had threatened me. I asked him if he was a lawyer. "No," he said. I paused a second and then said, "Well I am." and then threatened them with getting his wife into a lot of trouble for threatening me. Then, as they were turning away, I pushed the woman, hard. She whirled on me, accusing me of hitting her. I looked at her square in the face, expression blank, and said, "What are you talking about?"

Geek Love is freaking me out...

I'm about 85% finished (I have grown to like the percentage-progress as opposed to page progress, thanks to my now-complete dependence on Kindle). I have been alternately laughing, shrieking, cringing, and throwing the e-reader down in a fit of hysteria.

Eating Animals was devastating and lovely, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian was also devastating and lovely, but in an entirely different (and probably more profound) way. I'm reading Swamplandia for a bookclub but am not in love with it. I'm reading Liar for my late-night-put-me-to-sleep-YA, and I'm re-reading Anne of Green Gables for when I absolutely cannot sleep at night. I need something new, something wonderful. Something that will bring me to my knees with the weight and gravity of all that is love and loss and hunger and hope.

Leave your suggestions in the comments!

Adventures in Veganism

The best thing about cooking vegan, I have discovered, is being able to lick the spoon after whipping up a batch of chocolate-chocolate-chip brownies without fear of salmonella.

If you've been following, I've adopted a zero-animal protein diet in these last few weeks. I last had meat on the 21st of May and haven't had any dairy since the 31st (yes, there was a mishap with a pie wherein I didn't take the time to read the ingredients list and consumed some butter, but that's a negligible blip so it doesn't count). It's now June 12, 2011 and my vegan adventures have included lots of beans, rice, nuts, and a little bit of chickenless chicken here and there. The coup de grâce of my eating happened last night when I had some of Goal Hill Pizza's vegan cheese-topped sourdough crust pizza with garlic, sun-dried tomatoes and spinach. Oh my god. So good.

Last work week become a little difficult towards the end. I had prepared some lunch/dinner stuff on the weekend but ran out by Wednesday. Today I am cooking like a mad woman in preparation for this week. Check out two of my new recipes:

Zucchini and white bean casserole:

Penne with traditional marinara, pine nuts and kale:

Eat to Live, Don't Live to Eat

Memorial Day is a day to proclaim proclamations. So, here we go.

• I support servicemen and women; I support veterans. 
• I support veganism and vegetarianism; I support organic, local food. 
• I do not support corporate-sponsored federalism, conflict-of-interest government posts, or any big business lobby that shapes public policy for the good of private profits. 

I have been eating vegetarian lately and trying my best to wean off of dairy and fish as well. I'd ultimately like to eat an exclusively whole food and plant-based diet. Deducting beef, chicken, pork, and seafood was easy. Eggs are difficult (damn, I love a perfectly poached egg on a darkly toasted English muffin), cheese is almost irreplaceable (is life without pizza really worth living?). Several weeks ago I read Roger Ebert's review of a new documentary, Forks Over Knives. 

Just from reading his review, I knew a change in my diet was imminent in my own future. Today I saw the film. I cannot tell you how effective this film is for me; I may be young enough to not feel the health problems that would appear inevitable in my future, but I am almost old enough to not be able to do something about it. Some of the subjects of this documentary actually halted and reversed their fatal diseases by changing their lifestyles and adopting a whole foods, plant-based diet. Yes, we are all going to die. But it is the quality of life in those twilight years that will matter. I don't want to be pain and immobile; I don't want to worry about halting a deadly disease. I want to prevent it from emerging in the first place. 

I highly recommend you see this film, you do your research, and you decide for yourself. Whether you eschew beef and cheese is up to you; but knowing the truth about why we eat the way we do and who it benefits is crucial. This country is but a baby and it's not too late to change the course of our lives and the policies that will shape our children's' lives. Learn to think, think to learn.

A Compendium of Me

Wow, life has been going forward full throttle lately. I can't keep up with my Goodreads account, let alone the chronicling of my life's goals and aspirations on this blog. Ever since becoming inflamed with the Hunger Games trilogy, I have been reading young adult fiction almost exclusively. For those of you who have kept up with my reading life over the years, you know that it is my habit to be reading 4 or 5 books at a time, engaging by Kindle, Audible, print, bathroom paperback, and iPhone all at once. I intend to make some method out of all this madness and do a giant best young adult literature of the oughts post. So, stay tuned.

I had a beautiful lunch with my friend Jenny this week; we ate at Pomelo and I told her all about Israel and Jordan. She asked me questions that no one else had, asked me to surmise what the women who live in that culture really think about the lifestyle that they have chosen/have been expected to lead. While I can't know, and am sure that the Orthodox expat female population are happy in their homes, I don't think I could ever live a life that was circumscribed by thousands of years of tradition and patriarchy. Rules are meant to be living and breathing boundaries. Life, and culture, can shift from one instant to the next, and traditions should grow and change--and be allowed to grow and change--over time to reflect that.

What I'm Reading

Currently reading:

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
Format: Audible, narrated by Sherman Alexie
I think I could listen to Sherman Alexie read all day long. His self-described sing-song Native American affect is wonderful and perfect for this heartfelt story of a stranger in two parallel strange lands. I am nearly finished with this coming of age tale, and hope to read more by Alexie soon.

Geek Love by Katherine Dunn.
Format: Kindle
What I think so far: Written in the late 80s and with a heavy-handed narrative style. I find myself having to pay close attention to the semantics but am riveted by the plot and characters. Within the first chapter, upon learning that a "geek" is a circus performer who bites heads off of chickens and then drinks the blood from their open necks, I knew I was hooked in.

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer
Format: Kindle Edition
What I think so far: All an author has to do to ensure my being beholden is open with a WWII survival thread. I'm looking forward to Foer's research and journalistic style because I need more oomph for my own newfound vegetarianism. Also, I love my dog. So far I am laughing and turning the pages quickly.

Summer Book Club, chil'ens!

UPDATE: Holy crap, this book is blowing my mind. Someone else please read it so we can gossip about it!



I have unilaterally chosen this summer's Summer Book Club book. Big Girl Small by Rachel DeWoskin.

Read it, or don't (this Summer Book Club has turned into a one-woman-show for the last few years). I'll be done with it before summer starts, anyway. Review to come!

Another one bites the dust

It has been a long semester. As I put my jumbled-up thoughts into words, I know there is still quite a lot more to do. I've got to finish my screenplay, finish grading, clean up my desk/home/life, and somehow make it to the weekend. This semester has been a whirlwind of good, bad, ugly, and awe-inspiring. I am grateful for it and glad it is over.

I have been blogging at Freshman Seminar for Success like a mad woman. My aim was to paint a portrait in a few words of each student and link to the blogs they created for their final projects. Reading their posts and evaluations truly touched me, and I am such a better teacher for having lived through this semester with them.

Here's to summer. Scott and I heading are south for family-centric adventures and Los Angeles freeway-driving. I filled up my gas tank yesterday, paying $48 for just over 11 gallons of gasoline. Oh, San Francisco. I love you.

On Moral Ambiguity

I'd like to make the characters in my screenplay a little more... how shall I put this... morally ambiguous? Also, the family's existence depends on the conception of the middle generation during the last days of camp life before liberation in 1945. I just finished reading Viktor Frankl's very important work, Man's Search for Meaning, which is half concentration camp memoir, half introduction to logotherapy. In Frankl's memoir, he vividly describes the systematic dehumanization that a camp prisoner undergoes. Piece by piece, a person's tertiary characteristics and needs fall away. Vanity, dignity, aesthetics,lust are all replaced by nothing but hunger and an inclination to survive (and even that wanes in time for most prisoners). In Frankl's account, the bodies of the prisoners were so starved (literally and figuratively) that there was really not even a thought of sexual interaction.

A colleague of mine, who knows more about the Holocaust and World War II than even me, suggested I make one of my characters a Capo, someone who traded their Jewish prisoner comradery for the privilege of more rations and the burden of beating, killing, torturing, foremanning, and otherwise-keeping-in-line subordinate prisoners. This would allow for a more believable reconcilation and procreation between the man who will grandfather and the woman who will grandmother the main character. What do you think? Everyone needs a little evil, right?

Baby goats!

Okay, I just had to get that over with! I love baby animals. This little guy let me pet him forever - until he chomped on my finger! Cutie pie, nonetheless.

I have just finished M.T. Anderson's Feed, which was interesting, though a little below my reading (grade) level. I also finished my friend Lucy's Wanderlust, the second book in her Beautiful Americans trilogy.

The best part about Feed was the near-seamless narration of future teenagers' slang and the nonchalant reference to grotesque environmental degradation. There were beef farms (beef farms!) where filet mignon grows in bushes and, once in a while, a genetic mutation will occur and an eyeball or horn will pop up in the otherwise beautifully marbled pink and white.

The best part about Wanderlust was its winding down; the characters are all really quite well-developed and subtle for a reader. I found myself understanding them over time, as their onion-like layers on facade and misdirected pride were peeled away. I am looking forward to the last installment; moreso I am looking forward to Lucy's foray into WWII-theme fiction (my favorite).

Empirical evidence and the normative to which we aspire

I run out of stamina while writing. A trajectory of inspiration can carry me through one day, two, at best a few weeks. I put down the screenplay I was working on prior to my trip to Israel and Jordan, and its been tough trying to pick it up again. I'm resolved to start with another overall plot structure and outline and then dive into the nitty gritty of dialogue and action. I think I really like what I am writing, but again, its the disciplined butt-to-the-chair-and-fingers-to-the-keyboard dedication that evades me.

I have been having a lot of bad dreams lately, whether during nap or nighttime sleep. I stop and wonder what we are all waiting for, and whether this is it. I say a lot of "Baruch Hashems" but I don't feel a presence on the end of that pulled thread. I long for more green in my life, but I'm a terrible gardener. I see babies and I want one of my own; leaving my dog on workday mornings breaks my heart into a million, shattered pieces. I take my medicine but I procrastinate inciting rebellion. I'd like to lead and conquer and destroy and mourn and love, but I find myself here, blogging.

Four words.

"Love makes everything complicated."

-Elie Wiesel

Writing and Reading and Moving and Shaking

I finished Ally Condie's "Matched" while travelling. I did not even get to "House Rules" or "The Poisonwood Bible," though I was able to make some progress on "The Imperfectionists."

"Matched" was a thinly veiled extension of the "Hunger Games" trilogy, but good nonetheless. I'm really into young adult fiction right now - perhaps that speaks to my emotional maturity level. I did an exercise for a staff development assignment yesterday and the questions were a sort of how-much-of-your-innder-child-do-you-hide-away litmus test. I must say, I am pretty much still my inner child.

For example, my bedroom consisted of toys and a pink canopy bed. The canopy has gone, but pink is still a major theme in my life and my bed is still my favorite place on the planet. Barbies were my favorite toy, but its because I was able to manipulate and dictate peoples' lives - which is pretty much what I still do, professionally and personally. I think that baby Carleigh would be pretty pleased with 27-year old Carleigh, save the lack of insatiable traveling.

My trip to Israel and Jordan was truly that of a lifetime and has inspired in me a wanderlust I have not felt since last traveling abroad in 2004. It is now a very real goal of mine to travel to lands previously unseen once a year. I loved pushing myself to do things I have never done, to climb and hike and be and feel fit and show my face to the world. I am such a small speck of dust relative the entirety of this world and its history - I do a great disservice to keeping my vanity in check if I don't try to see as much of it as possible.

The trip of a lifetime

I am going to post pictures and comments from my recent trip to Eretz Israel - please bear with the nearly 600 pictures I took and especially with the many of my own vain, pretty face as it progressed to a more tan color.

I'm morbid

Here are two brief scenes I wrote for my Screenwriting class. Sometimes, I even sicken myself.


Virgin Sacrifice: A Tragedy-turned-Comedy

It is the only way. She hears the elders’ voices in her head, their instructions ringing clear. The only way to stop the bloodlust that plagues our village. Envisioning the murders in her mind’s eye, her own family’s slaughtering was a recent and too palpable memory. Virgin sacrifice – it is your blood the monster wants. She remembered the way her mother’s throat was slit and how fast the blood poured. She had marveled at the vivid red color.

As she jumps from the cliff, she closes her eyes and says, “Thank goodness I never let Ken get past second base.”

The little girl drops the Barbie Doll midair, and the doll falls, bouncing up again from the thick, pink carpet. She giggles, and retrieves her dolls from the corner in which they have been banished to their “mass grave”. She happily starts wiping the erasable red marker from all of their bodies so she can play again.


The Ventriloquist: A Comedy-turned-Tragedy

Ricky had been practicing for the talent show for weeks. He is miraculously cool, calm, and collected as he climbs the stage. Ralphie, his dummy, was clean and ready to go. Taking his seat on the stool, Ricky dives right into his act. The auditorium full of middle-school children is dead silent. Ricky starts to stumble through his routine, as the audience grows tenser. From somewhere in the crowd, a boy yells, “Why don’t you stick your head up that dummy’s ass?” The audience bursts into raucous laughter.

Ricky starts to cry and the principal comes onto the stage to help Ricky off. Ricky is quickly hysterical and stammering about how hard he has worked to perfect his craft. The audience continues to laugh. The principal, unable to usher Ricky from the stage, tries to pull the dummy away from Ricky. The dummy won’t budge and the principal pulls and pulls, finally breaking the cheap, wooden doll around its middle. Revealed in the gaping hole where the top half of the dummy used to be is Ricky’s arm. It is blackened, gangrenous. The audience’s laughter stops as everyone realizes that Ricky’s arm has been stuck in the dummy for weeks.

I get all sentimental

I get all sentimental at the end of the year. I make resolutions with abandon, ask people about their own, and pour over every best-of-the-year list I can. I even read Michael Bauer's best new restaurants list even though I cannot and probably will not ever be able to afford to actually eat at one of them.

This year I saw Emma Donoghue's Room on many best books of the year lists. I downloaded it immediately and read through it in, oh, three days flat (Amazon must know how amazing this book is because the Kindle edition costs $11.99, two bucks higher than any amount I've ever paid for an ebook before). This is probably, actually, the best book of the year.

I say this because I've never read anything like it. The point of view (POV as I shall hereby term it) is unique, consistent, well-executed. It's beauty and humor and horror flow together in a perfected prose the likes of which I have never seen. I read Emma Donoghue's Slammerkin years ago and also liked that (an historical novel of very different theme and subject matter).

Room is the story of a 5-year-old boy who discovers, as natural a development as the story itself, that his world is not at all what we thinks: it is a fabrication, an imprisonment, the construction of evil. He does not understand this and we do not ask him to. We are just grateful we are along for this discovery. Jack is as beautiful as the destructive human condition. I really loved this book.