April 24 of LAST year, I featured a little list of accomplishments and yet another list of wishful thinking. Figured a trip down memory lane would be sort of entertaining (for me, at least.) A little late to be part of any New Year's Resolution. Whatever.

Addendum to February 22, 2006 post.

As of April 24, 2006, I DID NOT:
1) Quit Sales Job (Update - did. Free & clear on December 15, 2006! Now broke, scared, working it out, but ultimately much happier.)

2) Get Retail Job (Update - did. Walking to work at a boutique on Abbot Kinney called Colcha. Bonus side effect: makes me nicer to the environment. Filled my gas tank on December 15, 2006 and it lasted me 6 weeks.)

3) Convert 2nd bedroom to office (Update - work in progress. David bought me fabulous bent-wood desk & chair!!!)

4) Buy shed for the bikes (Well, they're still mounted on wall....all in due time.)

5) Take a bunch of writing classes (Update - did. Freelancing 101 & Intro to Ghostwriting through Mediabistro.com)

6) Volunteer at KCRW (Update - no, actually, no update. I really hate answering phones. It's jarring.)

7) Begin hanging out solely with creative people (Ha. No update. This item might've just been rebellion against being part of a "sales team." Plus, everyone is creative in their own way, even if that way is scrapbooking.)

Also have some more published work, this time under my REAL name. Julianne Kochenour's article on Mortified appears in the current (Jan/Feb) issue of Synthesis Magazine, and Julianne Gorman's CD review of Sloan's latest release was in the January 10 issue of the LA Weekly & is still available on their website, in case you're still on the fence about whether or not to buy the record.)

So, y'know, there it is.
Cheers!

Okay, I had this phenomenal experience with The Artists' Way by Julia Cameron. Sure, I had to substitute the word "Universe" where she said "God," but basically, I am a believer in the premise that if you believe in yourself and your talent and are really truly open to it and diligent in practicing it, opportunity will come to you. I did it. It worked. I got stuff published and that part was really, really cool. Anyway, I read this article in the LA Times a couple weeks ago about her, which was a bit unflattering...to no real end.

The piece intimated that Julia Cameron was not-so-successful as a writer and also seemed to derive some pleasure from pointing out her battles with mental illness and addiction as evidence towards a larger case that she "got lucky" when she inspired all these people because she's just as fucked up as the rest of the world. In fact, the story hinted that attending a book reading/signing by Ms. Cameron was likely to be a bubble-bursting reality check for her legions of devotees. It really just made me want to come to her defense.

I would like to point out that Julia Cameron never pretends she hasn't had dark moments with addiction and whatnot. She just doesn't dwell on that in the book. That would be annoying, and beside the point of the program--which is meant to inspire, not focus on her time when she felt like a total loser.

Anyway, the fact that the article's author didn't really consider her a successful writer seemed pretty laughable. After all, she wrote The Artists Way, didn't she? A book that is wildly successful and in maybe the 10th edition of printing at this point? I'd call that successful writing, but looks like the hater at the Times missed that entirely from his vantage point on top of that pedestal of hard-hitting entertainment beat journalism.

Mustering, Part II.

Addendum to February 22, 2006 post.

Did not:
1) Quit Sales Job
2) Get Retail Job
3) Convert 2nd bedroom to office
4) Buy shed for the bikes
5) Take a bunch of writing classes
6) Volunteer at KCRW
7) Begin hanging out solely with creative people

Did:
1) Network with, well, everybody
2) Get TWO articles published under pen name Jane Herren
3) Blog for www.synthesismagazine.net
4) Stop worrying so much about my fraudulance as Sales Rep
5) Stop getting angry at co-workers, because looking back, I could see it was never really their problem - always mine
6) Cease crying at random times
7) Quit watching the rope go round and round
8) Jump in
9) Not get tangled up
10) Keep status anxiety at bay
11) Hire a web designer for thecheerfulcynic.com, coming soon
12) Change the parts of my life that were a drag until everything fit much better

Mid-Life Crisis Deferred, 2006.

Mustering

Is there a limit to the number of times a person can claim "Mid Life Crisis?" If so, I've probably exceeded it. Every year since the ill-fated "I'm turning 20, oh God, I don't want anyone to think I'm boring and conventional...I should get a tattoo of a giant sun over my heart" episode, I've had a pre-birthday mini-attack. I've done such brilliant things as: Dye my hair a different shade of red--this one more vibrant and death-defying than the last; Binge drink until I was too hungover to care about anything beyond getting a fresh glass of water to my lips; Cry like a baby into my pillow and silently lament my existence in the first place. Yep, the pre-birthday weeks have been a problem since 1989.

During my 20s, I had a status anxiety.
Was I wasting my college education?
Would I ever be a manager/director/VP?
Would I get a boyfriend that lasted more than 3 months?
Would I get respect? And power? And money?

Cresting my 30s, the themes changed.
I had real anxiety.
Over my choices.
Over not listening to my heart.

I realize I followed the wrong course of study in college for all the wrong reasons. My crisis now is that I can't afford the Do-Over in the education.
I realize that of all the VPs I have known a remarkably large number of them are miserable assholes.
I worry that as a Sales Rep, I am a fraud who will be exposed as such.
I worry that this veil will be lifted before I am ready.
I worry that I won't ever be ready, because the fear of getting the timing wrong is just as agonizing as the complacency.
I worry that I'll take too long to get the courage to live the life I truly want and thusly won't be able to enjoy it for as long as I should be able to, because mortality is always a factor.
I worry about mortality.

Begs the question:
(No, not WWJD?)

What would I do if I HAD to follow my gut feelings and change my life tomorrow morning, at 8 am?!

For starters, I'd quit my job. I wouldn't carefully line up the next one, I'd just leap. I'd be polite, but I'd be firm.

I'd get some low-responsiblity/high-fun retail sales job instead, one with commission, because I'm really good at building shopping excitement for ladies with large lines of credit.

I'd take a slew of writing classes, and immerse myself in writers' groups and networking. I'd learn to pitch and submit, and then I'd pitch and submit.

I'd scale back my expenses.

I'd work at home and we'd convert the second bedroom to my office. We'd get a shed outside for the bikes. We'd unclutter and I'd have a desk and chair and peacefulness-inducing lighting. I'd write this office off on my taxes, with glee.
I'd get a cheap car, or dispense with having a car altogether--and use my bike to get to my retail job.

I'd hang out exclusively with creative people and people who make me feel calm and accepted. I'd create. I'd cook, dance, yoga and be with my boyfriend and dog in my spare time.
I'd volunteer at KCRW.
I'd help people along the way with their projects that had to do with music.
I'd write press releases and stories and advertorial to keep the cash flowing inward.

I'd be free. I'd live simply. I'd breathe deeply and that furrow in my brow would fade some.

It seems so simple, this leap. Yet it is singularly the most terrifying thing I've ever considered. Casting aside the known (ick) for the unknown and having faith that it will all come together exactly as the Universe intends it to.

It is entirely possible that this is the first TRUE mid-life crisis I have ever had, because it is about MY life: How I live it, where I take it, what matters to me. This sure feels much more real than the yearly parade of petty worries that had to do with other peoples' perceptions of me. It's a ridiculously trippy kind of feeling--and really hard to dismiss or ignore at the end of the day--the sensation that I need to leap or I will miss my chance to send my life in the direction I choose, instead of letting the current pull me along.

Farewell, Sweet Footwear, Farewell.

Today I got the news that my favorite shoes ever, black suede Costume National shoes with a 3-inch heel and the adorable peep toe, are irreparable. The break to the heel is permanent and fatal. Even if I invested $75, there is no guarantee that they would be comfortable and wearable. This from Pasquale, the shoe genius. His whole staff was gracious and understanding, and put the shoes into a plastic bag for me to take home.

I know that it is really ridiculous to care so much, but these shoes have been a part of some geniunely special times. I wore them in Paris. I remember walking in the 6th Arrondisement on the way to dinner, wearing my Miu Miu plunging V halter dress in these shoes...and feeling like I was walking on air. I wore them to my friends Sophie & Emmanuel's wedding in Dijon. I wore them to my sister's bridal shower. I wore them on my first date with my boyfriend. I wore them to my friends Michael & Danni's wedding. And those are just the times I recall!

They saw me to parties and dinners and, unfortunately, to work. It was in the parking lot of the LA Weekly that they met their demise, though I wasn't ready to accept it right away. I kept them in their plastic box for nearly 6 months before facing the music and bringing them in for a consultation at the repair shop.

Unsaveable.

They were the epitome of comfort meets style, and they went with everything. So now it is time to say goodbye to my favorite shoes. I wish I had a good photo of them, so that I could remember them for my whole life...even after I lose my marbles, I know I'll still be able to recognize an amazing pair of shoes from a photo...and that somehow, seeing myself in them as a young woman would be a good memory.

Goodbye, Quality Footwear. Even St. Hubbins cannot save you now.

RIP
Costume National Black Suede Heels
2000-2006

xoxo
Julianne

Winter Games

Is anyone watching?! I watched some races on ice skates yesterday. Okay, to be more specific, I think it was the 500 meter women's race. After a few races, I was making know-it-all commentary about the speed and ranking as though I had any clue whatsoever what was going on. I think my boyfriend must've gotten tired of it, or else maybe it was time for the Daily Show, but we only watched 20 minutes of Olympic game-ness. And thus concluded my Olympic attentiveness.

When's Curling? That's the most fun of all the winter games, because you can be really frumpy and fat and focus on that stone like it is the most important thing in the whole world. It's really more about science than physical fitness. Like a game of billiards, but without the beer and Lynyrd Skynyrd in the background. It's so Canadian. I like it.

The other night there was figure skating on in direct competition with the time slot for "Skating With The Stars." So you could get your figure skating fix based on whether technical merit or watching a washed-up TV hack is more your bag. I skipped both. There is something about the creepy "flesh" toned stockings the women wear that make me highly nervous. Kind of like the poor waitresses at Hooters, but without the sexy orange shorts (or, uh, hooters) for distraction.

That's my Olympic wrap-up for the moment. I'm avoiding the TV now because it insists on another season of American Idol. And BTW WTF was up with Paula Abdul doing the Dr. Phil Relationship and Love Valentine's Day Special last night?! Her big worry was that she sends men packing because she has a fear of abadonment so she turns on the Needy light and squeezes until they wriggle out of her grip. I was totally thinking that the best way to prove you weren't desparate for love would be to go on a Prime Time special with Dr. Phil and cry about it. Glad she asked me.

Real Time Movie Review: The Edukators.

I'm watching this film and typing this much the way I used to watch scary movies...as distraction from something that is so good it is freaking me out, because I know what is going to happen next. The dynamic has changed between the three central characters, but one of them isn't in on it yet. He will be soon - as the owner of the house they've broken into has just pulled up and is having a conversation in front of the villa before going in and setting this movie on FIRE. Got to say, not a big fan of subtitles, but this one is definitely worth renting if you've got the time and like films about misguided reckless youthfulness colliding with good intentions, political fervor and some cool settings in Germany. The concept is that "the Edukators" are two guys who break into a roster of wealthy people's homes in order to rearrange their furniture and leave a note that says "Your Days Of Plenty Are Numbered." They mean to make the victims feel vulnerable and unsafe, reminding them that their wealth does not insulate them completely. Of course, now, at this point...things have gone horribly awry and the latest victim is in their custody and they are actually kidnapping him but with no plan whatsoever. How did things get messed up? A girl, of course! The girlfriend of one Edukator, who runs around with the other Edukator--who tries to impress her by telling her about the political statements he's been making secretly in the night with her boyfriend.

Brilliant and suspenseful. I have no idea what will happen next, but I read somewhere that the man they kidnap ends up to be a former protester back in his day, so who knows what may happen. One thing that is certain is that my adrenaline level is raised to a higher level than normal and the sweeping panoramic shots of the countryside are really truly lovely.

Countryside...because that's where someone has an uncle who's cabin sits atop a green hill. Where the kidnapping can rest while they try to figure out what to do. While Boyfriend Edukator tries to get frisky with the Girl, in a room that awkwardly contains the other Edukator and the Kidnapee. Everyone is tense and quiet, until it is time to start plotting how to position the kidnapping to get out of it. What will happen next? Dunno...would continue to write this, but then it stops being a review and starts to be a complete blow-by-blow that ruins the movie for anyone who reads this. Which, by my count, would be like 4 people. But still...our kidnap victim just called the Edukators out and told them they are no better than Terrorists. Boo-yah!

If you speak German, I bet it flows really nicely.