Thoughts & Musings

january inventory: raw food, attitude hacks and the pursuit of kapow!

Can you believe it’s January? Thirty-one days into 2012! How was your first month of the year?

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I got in the habit near the end of last year of giving myself an informal “theme” for a month. I don’t necessarily sit there and bestow upon myself a theme in any formal way. I sort of just check in, pay attention to what I’m craving and dreaming about, what images and sounds and feelings inspire me, what synchronicities are floating around. And then slowly a month-long intention emerges, an area I want to explore in different ways. This month, what emerged for me was the idea of energy, vitality, spark, physical radiance. Of course, it was January, and there are a million people (or more!) kind of working on the same thing. Who am I to fight the tide? Of course, I have to give myself a fun, goofy word for “theme of the month,” and so I decided about a week into January that my theme was KAPOW!! Like, KAPOW! I’m like a superhero full of KAPOW! I AM KAPOW-Y KAT!

I tried out a few different practices, habits, meals, classes, routines, and activities in pursuit of KAPOW! Some things I deliberately chose, others came about as I was doing one and it led to the other. I wasn’t crazy-strict with myself (what a drag that would be!) but it was easier to keep a lot of these because I knew it was only a month — 30 days, no big deal, right? A few things I did, and my reflections on them:

Tried out raw food. I wasn’t super-strict about it, but I did start incorporating more raw recipes in my diet. I started out by adding one raw meal or snack a day, then shifted into “raw before dinner” and then in this last week I did “all raw, all the time.” I have to say, I know people LOVE raw food and I can see why — it’s incredibly clean to eat so much plant-based food, and there is a strange hum of energy as you get into it. I”m generally good about getting my 5-7 fruits and veggies a week (thanks to all my smoothies!!) but eating raw is like getting 10-15 servings a day of them, and IT IS PRETTY WHOA-INDUCING. I am not going to sustain raw as a lifestyle, though — I did feel like I missed the social aspect of eating, I missed cheese, and I was hungry in a way that I as a Cancerian did not enjoy, i.e. I would get a spike of RAVENOUS at the end of the day that only some raw nut truffles could allay. However, I will do it again in the spring; I feel like it’s a fun, beautiful thing to do as the seasons turn.

Drank a lot more water. This was actually a lot more transformative than I thought. It came about because I was breaking out from the raw food (detoxing, they say) and I read a lot about upping your water consumption to flush out toxins. I thought I was getting enough water, but it ended up, I was about 10-20 oz. short of what they recommend. (Two liters, I believe.) I made myself drink a lot more water, mostly by carrying a giant water bottle all the time, and the difference it made was pretty remarkable in terms of feeling good in my body.

Took some new classes. I’m pretty active, but generally I’m a runner — I like that runner’s high, I like that it’s so efficient, and after the first ten minutes, I really love what I call the “gazelle effect,” when you run and it’s like, “I AM A CREATURE OF NATURE, ALIGNED WITH THE WIND FLOWING OVER THE SAVANNA!! ARTEMIS, HEAR ME WHOOSH!!!” However, I decided to mix it up and take some classes: some kickboxing, some dance classes, some yoga/flow classes, the climbing wall at the gym. I liked the variety and it kept my mind engaged, and the social aspect was nice, too. I’ll keep taking more; I’m in a hip hop class now and it is awesome — I get to fulfill my latent fly-girl fantasies!

Smoothies! I wrote about this earlier, but I really was gung-ho about them in January. I love them; I can’t recommend them enough, honestly. If anything, you’re getting a great hit of vitamins from all the fruits and veg! How can you argue with that?

Slept earlier and better, woke up earlier. Anyone who knows me knows that I was an insomniac/night owl, and good sleep’s always been a struggle with me. I tackled this a few years ago and it made such a huge difference in my life, but it’s easy to fall off the wagon. So I made sure to reinforce habits of shutting off electronics early, lowering the lights, trying to be all mellow and relaxed, all that good stuff. It was a good check, because for me, sleep is my foundation for feeling good about life, and I have to be vigilant about keeping it going

Another thing about getting up earlier: I used the time totally for myself. Sometimes I worked on my book (a bit on that later) but sometimes I also listened to music or a meditation, or just read a book, or wrote in my journal, or did my nails or whatever. ME TIME! Usually I do me-time stuff at the end of the day, but putting it up top was actually a beautiful thing, because it felt like I was taking care of and being generous with myself and making it the most important thing, and it made dealing with time and energy suckers later in the day a lot better — because I didn’t resent them for stealing my me-time, I already had it. It was an unexpected attitude hack, but I’m glad I stumbled on it.

Stretching before sleep. I work so much on a computer that I really have to take care of myself physically, especially in terms of aches and pains. Honestly, one thing I fear for is getting carpal tunnel, because how would I write so quickly if I had it? So I did a little more yoga, a quick, little routine of yoga stretches before sleeping, focusing on neck, shoulder, arm and hip openers. I didn’t get to it all the time, but the nights I did, I slept sooooo well — and I woke up feeling a lot more energized, interestingly. Also: CRAZY-ASS DREAMS HAPPENING on nights that I did this! Definitely related!

Fresh air everyday. If Katland had a personal law, this would be it because even 10-15 minutes of outdoor air a day, or even just a spot of sunshine, makes a huge difference in my energy. Ironically, I was really terrible about it in January — it got soooooo cold. Still, now and then I’d stick my head out the window, take a few deep breaths and then go about my day. It was like a nice hit of energy. I don’t know how I did all those wintery treks last year; now I’m such a wimp about it. What is going on with me?!!

I realize none of these are particularly ground-breaking, but the real challenge of these practices and habits are less about the actions themselves and more the habit-making of them — of doing them often enough to make a lasting impact in your life. I’m glad I used January to tackle spark, radiance and KAPOW! It feels like a good base to build a beautiful year.

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Beyond KAPOW! (ha ha), here’s what else I tackled and accomplished and will give myself BIG UPS for this year: mega-savings, consolidated my student loans (ugh, I hate this kind of task but I made myself do it), FINISHED THE LATEST AND LIKELY PENULTIMATE DRAFT OF ZE NOVEL (more on that later! Promise!), cleared out a bunch of clutter, went to the symphony, started researching real estate (eek, I need like a real estate buddy or something, I find the process really confusing, no wonder only married people seem to buy houses), redid this site slightly (look for more changes soon), signed up for some local classes and started on some secret but sparkly long-term projects for the future. (I can’t share EVERYTHING on the Internet, right?!!)

I hope you all had lovely Januaries, and that your 2012 has been beautiful so far!

xo kat

On enough

I have been thinking about what is “enough” lately. There are so many opportunities to think about “enough”! Big or small, mundane or profound, the chance to reflect is always there: Am I getting enough sleep? Did I eat enough? Do I have enough money to live? Have I worked on this novel enough? Is there enough giving and receiving of affection in this relationship? Do I have enough scarves in my wardrobe, or do I really need another one, though it is cute and striped? If you really take a chance to look at it, “enough” is a concept to always grapple with.

Give it a go: observe how often the question of “enough” comes up in daily life. You’d be surprised.

enough, adj.: occurring in such quantity, quality, or scope as to fully meet demands, needs, or expectations

Enough is rather a strange concept, especially in a world where there are such extremes of lack and excess, on all levels from personal to geopolitical. It seems abstract, until you’re forced to make it concrete — and then you realize how very difficult it is to know what is enough.

Like in negotiating contracts, something I did a lot as when I did web design: what is the right amount where I feel properly compensated for the work I’m doing, and the client feels as if they are getting value? It is a balancing act, a very tricky one, involving figuring out your worth (generally very difficult for women to do, I must add), figuring out what is enough to satisfy two possibly opposing positions, putting a specific dollar amount on it.

The stakes are clear and concrete: if it is not enough, you’ll likely suffer for it on a very material, very real way. If it is too much, you may lose the contract, the gig, the job, or the client will secretly hate you and make your life miserable by squeezing all he or she can out of you.

But I also see the debate of what is enough play out in other, less expected ways. Like the scarf example above, or my penchant for plaid button-down shirts. Right now, I have four plaid shirts. I had two just two weeks ago, two which I loved and wore all the time. I was satisfied with two, but a little restless — you know that way you get with clothing sometimes, especially if you love it.

I was happy with two; maybe another, and another, would make me happier? But now I’m looking at the fourth one, wondering if four is a bit excessive. Maybe I should return it. Maybe three is enough? The irony is, now that I have more, I don’t wear them as much.

If you have too little of something, you could ache with longing. But sometimes, when you have too much of something, it loses its magic and power of enchantment. You take it for granted, grow bored with it, or are maybe paralyzed by too much of a good thing.

(Reading Barry Schwartz enlightened me to the idea that having too many choices saps the satisfaction gained from whatever you are deciding upon. I think of Barry whenever I walk into a Sephora and just stick with Nars lipsticks.)

“Enough” doesn’t really have a lot of glamour, and most people connote it with “average or sufficient.” Yuck, who wants that? That is so boring! So dull, so grey.

But now, when I think of “enough,” I think of equilibrium, a kind of harmony, neither lacking or overwhelmed by too much. One of my favorite ideas I picked up in my excursions into Spiritually Scandinavian was the concept of “lagom.” It is a word that is like “enough,” but is fairly untranslatable and has more cultural significance. My Swedish friend says it means more “just right,” or “optimal,” or “balanced.” Like Goldilocks wants, just right.

What is just right for you in life, in terms of love, work, friendship, activity, socializing, writing, buying, seeing, making? A question to always consider, an answer likely always evolving.

How to plan a year

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I used to be one for really complex and ambitious New Year’s resolutions and intentions, complete with color-coded spreadsheets mapping out my year month-by-month. (Yes, it is as insane as it sounds, but it was actually really pretty to look at! My sweetheart suggested I actually should have framed it and passed it off as abstract art. I’m sure someone already has, I said.) That worked, for a year, and then it worked less and less after that, because my life got complicated with variables out of my control and it got kind of boring to fill out. I’m fairly type A and do love a good, specific plan with solid To-Do items, a timetable, a map of execution; it’s my Virgo rising sign, I suppose. And I’ve read too much on creativity and productivity to be able to completely eschew what I learned.

But, I temper it now. And I try different things, because what are New Year’s resolutions if not a beautiful life experiment?

There are tons of great tools available to help chart out a year: Chris Guillebeau does a good review and plan for analytical types. I’ve never done it, but the people I know who have are all hella successful, so there you go! For those who adore soulful questions with bright, joyous colors and drawings, Leonie Allen’s Goddess Guidebook is a pleasure to fill out and mull over. I got one as a gift in 2010 and it was a real treat and fun to do, even if I was a few months late! I read Tara Mohr’s suggestions on New Year’s resolutions (or, not having them, actually) with great interest. Her questions about what you want in a year are really lovely and reverie-provoking.

But this year, I did something different. Oh, of course, I have list of things I want to accomplish (more books, Paris, horses, a lovely new home, more prosperity), but I didn’t want so much to contemplate and think a plan, especially after the big Reverb thing. I mean, I’m good at plans, and To-Do lists, and that kind of thing. It’s like second nature; if I need to call on those superpowers, I can and will. Those muscles are sort of overdeveloped in my life. Instead, I sort of wanted to feel my way to my intentions for my year, to have a little fun and just make a mess. So I cut up all the magazines I accumulated over the year and did a few big massive collages.

I didn’t have a big plan for them, I only wanted images that resonated me. I pulled and pulled images from all these magazines until paper fluttered all over my floor like snow. And then I sorted them out, making groupings. Some images clearly were things, feelings, experiences I wanted; others were related to style; others were related to an emotional state I liked, others were just fancies that appealed to me in an unexplained yet deeply compelling way. I arranged them all on a few pieces of posterboard and put them together. And then I stepped back and, wow: if I could have the year I just laid out for myself, what a beautiful year it would be.

And then I realized: Voila! My dream/mood boards for 2012! (There are bits and pieces of them above — the whole big mess is a bit personal — this is the Internets, after all!) Like a real-life Pinterest!

The other thing I did in terms of New Year’s resolutions-type stuff is: I chose a word for the year, a theme. At least, I think it is the word for the year; I will give it some time to breathe a bit. Doing the whole Reverb challenge made me realize that what fascinates me as I pass through the years is how they begin to braid and lead into one another, how strands of one year persist into the next, and how you pick up new thoughts, ideas, experiences and weave them into larger experience of life as well. I like a sense of time passing to have cohesion, to feel like there’s a deeper story at work. I like pieces of the puzzle to fit. I do like the idea of a simple, clarifying compass. In the midst of all these goals, intentions, resolutions, it is nice to be able to look at something, ask yourself if it aligns with your compass, and then if it does, use it to head towards true north. True north, that’s where I’d like to be headed.

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I’m going to keep track of more prosaic things here in the small ending space, I decided. Finished re-reading A Visit to the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan; loved it as much as the first time. I took time to really appreciate the interlocking structure, and found the helplessness of humanity in the face of the inexorability of time to be deeply true. Took my niece and nephews to see the Alvin and the Chipmunks movie (don’t judge; kids seem to love it!) and also watched Downton Abbey. I see why people are into that show! I loved all those Edwardian dresses. Right now I picked up the Ashley Judd memoir from the library; I’m not sure why, I don’t have any strong feelings for or against her, but I opened her book up and read a page and was intrigued. I’ll let you know how it goes; so far it is intelligent, deeply earnest and unexpectedly moving, and I actually texted a friend who suffered from serious emotional neglect as a child to read it.

On true gifts

I have a habit of re-reading books again and again, something I’ve been thinking about lately, because I think deep down writers want to write books that people re-read over and over — as if they were wise friends, comforting voices, or just a riotous good time that just has to be visited again. (I go to a Six Flags rollercoaster park every summer; I know it’s possible.)

I spent December re-reading all my favorite books, some of them for likely the twentieth-plus time in my life. (That would be Little Women.) Of course the first time I just love the story, or the characters, or the voice, and I want to know what happens and why. But the second, third, fourth or even twentieth time? What does one possibly extract from a book that many times?

There are, of course, many levels to read a book: for pleasure, analysis, cultural import, emotional attachment, wisdom, duty, research, moral instruction, creative inspiration, just to name a few. But as I closed the cover of Little Women after finishing it in December, I knew there was more to it, more to the reason why I pick up some stories again and again.

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At the same time, I was also thinking about gifts. Not just presents and who would get them, but things that people, objects, experiences bring into the world that help shape it and make it a more beautiful, fuller, more interesting place.

An infectious humor. Incisive yet kind discernment. The ability to make life lovely to others, no matter what the circumstances. A true grace. Wild, poetic imagination. A power to look into dark places and not be afraid. You see it as the throughlines in bodies of work, or the feelings great leaders or cultural figures inspire, but it’s also present in everyday people: how my best friend’s beautiful tenor makes everyone stop and smile, because he takes such joy in singing. No matter what route they choose — relationships, words, images, voice, food, songs, clothing — something of their gift comes through.

And then the different strands of thinking converged: I love to re-read stories not just for stories, characters, rich language, gorgeous imagery. I love to revisit them because something about that book’s true gift resonates deep in me, in those corners of life we call spirit and soul. A book offers not just a story, characters, plot points, language: it offers a point of view, an emotion, a spirit or a set of possibilities, a world to step into. Great books, you can argue, offer something much larger than themselves, which is why stories can transcend their execution and resonate across cultures and centuries. But even “lesser” works have a gift. Everyone has a gift. You can argue that life is for developing your gifts and sharing them with the world.

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I’ve been re-thinking books lately through this lens, and it’s clarified why some books are so beloved for me, as well as helped me appreciate books that aren’t so personally resonant. The true gift of Little Women for me is of its innocence, its presentation of the richness of women’s lives in all its possibilities: that fulfillment can come in ways one leasts expects. And while I’ll never love reading On the Road, I can see how people connected to its sense of liberation and freedom and free-wheeling energy.

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Interestingly enough, I’ve been in the middle of another revision to my novel, and now I find myself looking at my beat-up, been-through-hell-and-high-water story through this unfamiliar light: what are my story’s true gifts, its fuller offering to the world? And what can I do as the writer to serve that? Now that I’ve lived with it for almost two years, I hope I know it enough to hear the deeper layers it wants to reach. Submerged usually in questions of craft, publication, and the annoying nitty-gritty that comes up in rewriting, the question of a story’s true gift is a new, unfamiliar question to guide editing. I wonder how it will bear fruit.

Rob Brezsny Just Gave Me Brilliant Literary Advice

Jungian storyteller Clarissa Pinkola Estes says one of her main influences is the Curanderisma healing tradition from Mexico and Central America. “In this tradition a story is ‘holy,’ and it is used as medicine,” she told *Radiance* magazine. “The story is not told to lift you up, to make you feel better, or to entertain you, although all those things can be true. The story is meant to take the spirit into a descent to find something that is lost or missing and to bring it back to consciousness again.” You need stories like this, Cancerian, and you need them now. It’s high time to recover parts of your soul that you have neglected or misplaced or been separated from.

In case you didn’t know, Rob Brezsny writes the brilliant Free Will Astrology column, which I’ve been reading for well over ten years now. I used to pick up NY Press when it was syndicated there to read it — I have vivid memories of reading it over a dinner of bagels and OJ that I would get because it was only $2, thinking to myself, Please, Rob, save my soul, even if I am mired in total broke-ness! Ah, to be 21 and living in NYC again…

Advice That I Wish Someone Gave Me After Getting My MFA

The end of 2010 marked approximately six months after I got my MFA from film school, so it was perfect time to take stock of the distance I had traveled, where I was going and all that good “big picture” stuff. Then, @spidvid over at Twitter asked for post-grad film school advice, and a few other friends of mine talked about our experiences after graduation and compared notes, which got me thinking. The logical conclusion to all this introspection? Blog post, naturally! I actually ended up doing a lot of these suggestions here, but not in a guided “here, Kat, do this and you won’t freak out so hard when you graduate” kind of way. More like a “WTF DO I NEED TO DO TO STOP FEELING THIS ANXIETY” walking-in-the-dark kind of way. In other words, trial and error. Avoid my abuse of all caps and keep these in mind when you’re rounding the final lap of an intense creative immersive experience and face the abyss of post-grad life. It doesn’t have to be such an abyss!

Write down a list of everything you learned in school right after you leave it.

No, I don’t mean some memoir explaining your creative evolution or anything fancy like that. This sounds way more daunting than it really is — it really is just a list! I also find that it’s really useful to do this with any concentrated experience, like a workshop, or a class, or even a particularly challenging work gig. You don’t have to go into mega-detail — it’s really just a quickly-jotted list of concepts, practices, tips, tricks, ideas, etc. that you absorbed during your experience. Just try to jot down everything, from the most basic “I’ll never forget that” info to more complicated, personal realizations. I still have mine in a PDF, and it’s got stuff on everything from technique to production to psychology that would make very little sense except to me and other film school people. Hilariously enough, it’s called “WHAT I LEARNED IN FILM SCHOOL.” Here were a few things on this list:

  • 180-line rule (a nerdy directing thing)
  • Wiping the shot at the beginning (another nerdy directing thing)
  • Always try to have actors enter/exit frame
  • Where does the camera have to be to have maximum dramatic impact
  • Generative images
  • “Begin late, leave early”
  • Using events to create sense of future in scripts
  • Visualize the day you want to have on set before you actually get there
  • Don’t put out chocolate in craft services till afternoon — too early makes people lose energy early in the day, but it’s a nice boost in the afternoon when energy lags (a producing thing, but kind of applicable to everyday life!)

You’d be surprised how much you’ll forget once you get caught up in the stream of life, so it’s great to have a record. You’ll read it even a few months out of school and get a big kick out of all that you learned. You’ll get an even better kick when you look it over and realize that you could even add to the list, which is a great sign that you’ve kept learning and growing, even well past graduation date.

Start working on your post-grad projects way before you graduate.

Even if it’s just to suss out ideas or find collaborators, it’s important to plant serious seeds to projects you want to work on when you leave school. You’ve just spent a concentrated, intensive period of time running at a creative high (or running on empty!) You want to keep creative momentum going. Give some thought as to where you’re at when you’re ending: are you poised to take advantage of momentum? Are you in need of recharging your batteries? Then design a project that fits. My advice would be to do something manageable, with a clear, discrete goal — there’s nothing better than being able to say you finished something just a few months after you graduated.

Start working in general before you graduate.

Yeah, you’re super busy and burnt out and stressed. That’s just part of being in film school, or perhaps grad school in general. But the stress that comes from engagement and doing is PEANUTS compared to the anxiety you’ll feel from the fear that you may be NOT DOING WHAT YOU LOVE. Especially in a creative field with no real employment structure or route to security, you need to start building contacts and experiences outside your school’s sphere before you leave it. Find some small way to engage in the larger field — if you’re going into production, start taking on PA jobs on larger sets. Start a film blog and start writing. Start assistant editing. It’s a lot to add on an already crowded plate, but there won’t be an empty abyss you’ll face the day after you get your diploma. Basically, if you’ve been in student mode, you have to start thinking of yourself as a professional before you actually “go professional.”

(Also, if you’re like nearly everyone I knew at film school and took out loans to go to school, you will especially want to do this, just for your own financial security/peace of mind’s sake.)

Take advantage of what you can before you leave school.

This means: using the school’s editing labs to put together your director’s reels; renting equipment you may not have access to anymore; using the fancy laser printers to print out beautiful copies of your beautifully edited scripts; get mentors and professors to critique your work or offer introductions to colleagues. There are all sorts of intangibles that a school environment has that you have every right to take advantage of — all that tuition you’ll be paying (or repaying, in the case of loans) should let you do this.

Accept doubt and define success.

Perhaps one of the hardest things for people to deal with after graduating is the sudden loss of structure, which school gives. Taking on projects and work for post-school is just part of a larger process. I’ve spent the last 6-7 months trying to create a structure in my life that supports both writing/filmmaking and making a living, and it’s only just started to come together. (Dear bad economy: thanks for making it so much easier. Ha!)

I realized most of all, in the months after school, that one of the things that school structures gives you in a perpetual sense of growth, of something to work for. You may be incredibly tired and stressed out, but above everything, you are growing as an artist and craftsperson. But when that sense of growth goes, things like doubt and anxiety begin to seep or rush in. The important psychological thing to do is to sustain that feeling of progress, of learning, of growing.

There’s two things to do, really. First, you have to realize that doubt is one of the biggest specters you’ll face once you leave the confines of school. It doesn’t matter if your student short got into Sundance or you landed an agent or manager or whatever…if there’s one thing I learned under the experienced filmmakers who taught me, it’s that you’ll always deal with the uncertainty of getting to do the thing you love for your living, even when you’re a “success.” So get that idea that you’ll never deal with doubt once you’ve “made it” out of your head. I don’t have any wise words on doubt, other than to remember what made you love making films (or writing stories or designing clothes or whatever) in the first place, and try to carve out some definition of success and achievement that isn’t defined by an external set of circumstances.

That leads to the second thing to do, which I got from Danielle LaPorte‘s brilliant Fire Starter Sessions: Ask yourself how you want to feel in your work? Most of us would say “happy” or “successful,” but it really pays to be specific about this: what does “happy” or “successful” mean to you? Challenged, peaceful, sexy, powerful, liberated, bold, innovative, loving, intellectually brave? Then, seek out and create experiences that make you feel that way. That’s what I try to remember. I’ll let you know how that goes :-)

Happy new year, beauties!

Still sussing out intentions, plans and dreams for 2011, but these words are part of my compass for the next year:

Cling to simplicity,
sincerity, serenity,
and the power of truth.

– I Ching

Letters I Wish I Had Gotten From My Future Self When I Was 5/10/15, Etc.

Sometimes I wonder how creepy and cool it would be to get letters from my future self.

Imagine it: you’re on your way to air out your mailbox (or face the depressing stack of bills and junk mail sitting in the void, since no one really writes letters anymore.) You open it, and there is a mysteriously addressed letter from a place called “The Future.” By a future version of you. I’m sure deep in my memory there exists a science-fiction film based on this scenario, but on a sincere level I would’ve welcomed a bit of guidance from my future self, especially over bumpy parts of my past. (Or maybe I would’ve freaked out and given myself a nervous breakdown — you never know.) Anyway, just as a weird little exercise, I imagined what my present self would’ve sent back to past mes at different ages. Other than werewolf skaters and first love, this is what’s on my mind lately — trying to get the pieces of my past to connect with what’s out there in the future, making the span of time feel continuous and meaningful.

Dear 5-Year-Old Me,

Congratulations on your first library card! You’re going to check out these books all the time: D’Aulaire’s Mythology, some novel about a Midwestern prairie settler girl and her favorite corn doll (told from the point-of-the-view of the doll, GOD I wish I could remember the name of this book, it had a purple library binding cover) and random issues of Mademoiselle, even though you have no clue what they are talking about. Pay attention to this mix, because it’s going to be the key to your imagination when you start writing. You’ll get a toy typewriter for Christmas and you’ll read the Peanuts and think typing “It was a dark and stormy night” again and again is what people mean they talk about “writing.” You don’t really have to begin each and every single story with a dark and stormy night. (Although curiously, every movie you make in film school will take place at night.) You may want to try just beginning your story in the middle and then figuring out what the best beginning would be, since this is what you’ll end up doing when you reach my age. Oh, and when Lisa B. makes fun of your laugh, don’t listen to her. She’s a hater. What’s a “hater”? It’s a word everyone will use in 2009. You can start now.

You’re also going to have a dream that you’ll remember for the rest of your life, one where you come to school with a box of donuts and no one wants them for some reason and you’ll wake up crying because you can’t give away your donuts. You’re going to spend a lot of time unlocking the message of this dream, which is basically deep down you worry that what you have to offer isn’t valuable to someone. The key is that what’s valuable is not just what’s in the box, but in the act of giving, so give even when you think no one out there is that interested.

Oh, and chasing your newest sister around the kitchen while screaming like a maniac at the top of your lungs and waving around a plastic sandbox shovel because she pissed you off? Don’t do that, either. She’s going to bug you about it for years.

xo k.

Dear 10-Year-Old Me,

This is going to be the weirdest age for you, because deep down you will not understand why half of your friends like boys, who are still mostly stupid and gross except for two main exceptions, who sit in two rows over from you, next to one another. Everyone will be preoccupied with boobs, which you don’t have yet. You’ll have very tumultuous friendships with neighborhood girls, which you’ll be bewildered by. Let’s begin with these, since you’ll spend a perplexing amount of time thinking about these. First, the neighbor girl who called you ugly: she’s a crazy Jesus-freak fundamentalist, and anyone who keeps wearing the same damn tube socks over and over again is kind of a freak. (Seeing those tube socks on girls in ads for a stupid company called American Apparel in the future will make you think of her and shudder.) Second, the other neighbor girl who you’ll get into a huge fight with and never speak to again: she’s actually a nice girl and you’ll miss her long after both of you have moved on, so don’t burn your bridges. One day you’ll realize how weird it is that every girl at this age fixated on one another’s looks, and maybe you’ll wonder if this appearance-obsession is something that women inflict upon themselves and give straight men permission to buy into.

Here’s the thing you should know: people are changing so fast, trying things out, and many pals are situational. You were strangely independent and self-sufficient up till now, so the best thing you can do now is to make a little island in yourself and put everything you love and value on it and let it ride out the hurricane of pubescence. Pack your psychological suitcase carefully, set it out on a boat and meet it in five years when you land on the Island of It’s Going to be Okay at age 15.

The great thing is that you’ll start writing stories because Mr. D. encouraged you. You’ll start writing about spaceships and the future and exotic countries and witches and outlandish, imaginative, fantastical things. You’ll start reading books by Robin McKinley about heroic, dragon-slaying girls. You’ll read Choose Your Own Adventure, which will change your life, and Sweet Valley High, which will not. Remember this, because you’ll go through a phase where you feel like all the deep people write about relationships and post-modernity and semi-traumatic sex. And that’s what works for them. But when you start really digging into massive writing projects that demand sustained effort, discipline and a level of commitment that exceeds most modern-day romantic liaisons — well, you need to remember what it is about writing and stories that made you love them in the first place. And how your writing will, in some way, honor that.

Also: don’t throw out your Madonna memorabilia. Or let your mom throw it away.

Ages 10-14 are going to suck hard. Sorry.

Oh, and when B. in fifth grade tells you that “horny” means someone who reads a lot of Playboy, he has it only halfway right.

xo k.

(more…)

This Week’s Reading: Julian Assange/WikiLeaks, Netflix, Sofia Coppola, Miwa Matreyek

I am trying to be a bit more selective and thoughtful about the glut of web content and articles that I used to inhale. So I’m going to try to keep up a list of selected, particularly interesting online reading that I’m doing, complete with some commentary and thought that it inspired in me. This week:

No Secrets: Julian Assange’s mission for total transparency (The New Yorker)

A great article that gives an interesting, human sense of WikiLeaks and the man who essentially ran it. Quelle character, as they say, but what I liked about the piece was how it articulated in a clean way my basic view on Assange/Wikileaks. I definitely believe in transparency in government and freedom of speech, and I do get a very ill feeling about how the government will handle Assange’s arrest (and I presume, his trial and imprisonment.) But any organization with power but without any accountability in place should give anyone pause.

No Longer Tiny, Netflix Gets Respect—and Creates Fear: As Rivals Look to Counter Its Online Movie-Streaming Service, Hollywood Cautiously Cuts Deals to Provide Some Content (WSJ)

I do a ton of writing now in my ‘professional writing life’ about new technology, especially on the rise of online streaming and Internet TV. Lately I’ve been working on a spate of articles about Netflix and its rise as a digital distributor. In a nutshell, Hollywood is shitting its pants that it’s going to go the way of the music industry, and is grappling with how to leverage their content without losing their profits. My feelings about the film industry are complex. A key moment in film school for me was listening to a talk given by a major programmer of two very major U.S. film festivals and hearing him admit that no one in the industry had any idea how the current model of industrial filmmaking would be able to sustain itself. When he admitted that, I immediately thought in my head, “Why do I want to be part of this sinking ship then?” I’m still grappling with that question. The film and television industry as we know it are such huge media conglomerates that they really don’t have the agility to change in a rapidly transforming media landscape. I watch movies way more on my laptop than on the big screen. I’d rather watch television on demand and on my laptop. The rise of Netflix interests me because online streaming is one avenue that is growing exponentially and will expand as fast as wireless networks can keep up. I predict in a few years that a film will be able to raise funds for production by pre-selling digital distribution rights to an entity like Hulu or Netflix first — that’s how powerful I think they’ll become in the future. Indie filmmakers should take note.

It’s What She Knows: The Luxe Life (New York Times)

Sometimes I think Sofia Coppola’s films interest me less than the discourse that surrounds them. I think there’s something sexist about the way she’s often criticized for her elegant, stylish movies — no one really harangues Woody Allen (in his early days), Wes Anderson, or her ex-husband Spike Jonze for making similar-feeling films throughout their careers. At the same time, what’s beautiful about her films — the hermetic feel of fashion photography’s influence, the music — is often their limitation, and the rarefied air of privilege in them does get a little claustrophobic, for me at least. I think there’s something to explore, however, if you think about Coppola’s film within gendered notions of spectatorship. There’s something in her films that captures the wistfulness, longing and desire of a type of feminine looking — the same type of looking that permeates the fashion blogosphere and all of Polyvore, this desire to occupy the same place and space within a beautiful image. It’s not an objectification, because I think the viewer wants to close the space between (her)self and the image. Maybe most dudes just don’t get that kind of aspirational viewing?

Miwa Matreyek’s glorious visions (TED)

Okay, so this wasn’t reading…but I still thought this was a lovely, imaginative video.

What I Think About When Someone Tells Me I Shouldn’t Waste My Time Writing About Teenage Skater Werewolves

Overheard between two undergrads at the Hungarian Pastry Shop a few months ago. You have to imagine it in that super-serious, playing-at-world-weary voice that only certain coeds in NYC can have:

“Why would I want to write a book about real life? The only really juicy thing about my real life are my exes, and I’m so over them, even though they’re semi-famous. And Gogol already stole my title.”

“What’s that?”

Dead Souls.”

Needless to say, I was chuckling over my laptop when I overheard this. If anyone asks why I like to write fantasy and genre, I will just tell them that Gogol stole the title to my real novel based on my real life and it’s just impossible now. That Gogol, such a jerk!

I really wonder who her exes were, though…

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