I think it says a lot about a person when they disclose who their celebrity crush is (or, at the very least, what celebrities they find mildly attractive, if they were to admit to such a thing).
Mine, in no particular order:
Colin Firth
Which brings me to Ralph Fiennes:
And clearly showing that it's a family with good genes, we have Joseph Fiennes:
And then there's Neil Finn, of course, with the bonus of Eddie Vedder, both yummy:
And Paul Weller:
Ethan Hawke. Seriously. Ever since people were lusting after that other guy in Dead Poet's, my heart was with Ethan. I'd link to my favorite Ethan clip, but I'm not sure I should, given my mom reads this...
And let's not forget Nathan Fillion. Or Tim Daly. Or John Cusack.
I think I have a definite type. I'm a big fan of tall, dark and handsome, but I am also a big fan of the English and Australians. Also the grungy, eye liner wearing boys. So, maybe not "type" as much as "types"...
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Words, Words, Words
I've been going through my writing notebooks trying to find an ember of my nearly dead writing career. I've been transferring ideas from the books to my computer and retooling old stories. The books I've been working on lately are from about 1997 through 2001ish. It's so interesting to see what notes I jotted down and the way I was taking my stories through that period of life. Interspersed with my writings are notes on websites to look up or recipes to try or books to read. I found my sketch of what I want to eventually do with my first wedding ring / diamond. Most importantly (and what I was looking for) I found all of my notes for my book. They are in no order and I've been working hard to get them all transcribed into my book folder on my computer. I don't want to miss anything.
In the front of my notebook I have a list of three questions. I have no idea where I got these three questions (Oprah? Church? Random person? - mostly kidding about Oprah...), but I think they speak for themselves why they are in one of my writing notebooks.
1. Am I satisfied with the life I am living?
2. How would I change my life if I had only one year to live?
3. What is my heart's deepest desire?
On the next page is the start of a four page stream of consciousness that I wrote on the train going home from seeing Ethan Hawke (can I say yummy and how long I've adored him?) do a reading from his (very, very bad, but so not the point) novel in downtown Portland. I could type it all up for your pleasure, but even that wouldn't convey what a meaningful afternoon that was for me. Here's a snippet about how I was feeling as I left for home:
August 6, 2002
"...I hear him read from his book, so passionately, and I want that for me. He is so passionate and so real and so approachable. I leave from his reading hopeful about my writing and renewed with focus on what I am destined to do. I AM A WRITER. Just write. That's all I have to do..."
I read that and I get how I was feeling that evening. I get that I knew, in that moment, what I needed to do with my life. As I work out the notes and thoughts and ideas that will soon be my book, I feel renewed. This is who I am. I can't believe I nearly forgot that. The ember may be small, but it's there. Waiting to roar back to life.
In the front of my notebook I have a list of three questions. I have no idea where I got these three questions (Oprah? Church? Random person? - mostly kidding about Oprah...), but I think they speak for themselves why they are in one of my writing notebooks.
1. Am I satisfied with the life I am living?
2. How would I change my life if I had only one year to live?
3. What is my heart's deepest desire?
On the next page is the start of a four page stream of consciousness that I wrote on the train going home from seeing Ethan Hawke (can I say yummy and how long I've adored him?) do a reading from his (very, very bad, but so not the point) novel in downtown Portland. I could type it all up for your pleasure, but even that wouldn't convey what a meaningful afternoon that was for me. Here's a snippet about how I was feeling as I left for home:
August 6, 2002
"...I hear him read from his book, so passionately, and I want that for me. He is so passionate and so real and so approachable. I leave from his reading hopeful about my writing and renewed with focus on what I am destined to do. I AM A WRITER. Just write. That's all I have to do..."
I read that and I get how I was feeling that evening. I get that I knew, in that moment, what I needed to do with my life. As I work out the notes and thoughts and ideas that will soon be my book, I feel renewed. This is who I am. I can't believe I nearly forgot that. The ember may be small, but it's there. Waiting to roar back to life.
same, same!
all about me,
history,
writing
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
4x4
Fourth folder, fourth picture:
A badly scanned copy of the Puerto Vallarta skyline, May 2004.
While Isaac was in Opt. school, we saved our pennies (quite literally) the entire four years. Spare change, unexpected money, every spare dime we could think of went into our vacation fund. We made sure to budget money every month to go in, as well. At the end of the four years, we had enough plus to book a cruise. We knew we would move to San Diego and our stuff wouldn't be there yet, so we booked for the week we would be without our stuff. Packing to move was crazy: stuff to take with us in the car, stuff for the cruise, stuff for the moving van. It was so worth it, though. We took a 7 day cruise down the Mexican Riviera. Puerto Vallarta was our favorite stop. Cabo was hot and neither of us were feeling so great that day, so we stayed close and didn't do a lot. Mazatlan was...memorable. The taxi de la muerte is our most vivid memory from there. Puerto Vallarta, though. It was lush and beautiful and I got great jewelry and I had guacamole that was akin to heaven. We toured and walked and had a great day. This photo is the skyline the morning we pulled into port - right before we got off to explore.
A badly scanned copy of the Puerto Vallarta skyline, May 2004.
While Isaac was in Opt. school, we saved our pennies (quite literally) the entire four years. Spare change, unexpected money, every spare dime we could think of went into our vacation fund. We made sure to budget money every month to go in, as well. At the end of the four years, we had enough plus to book a cruise. We knew we would move to San Diego and our stuff wouldn't be there yet, so we booked for the week we would be without our stuff. Packing to move was crazy: stuff to take with us in the car, stuff for the cruise, stuff for the moving van. It was so worth it, though. We took a 7 day cruise down the Mexican Riviera. Puerto Vallarta was our favorite stop. Cabo was hot and neither of us were feeling so great that day, so we stayed close and didn't do a lot. Mazatlan was...memorable. The taxi de la muerte is our most vivid memory from there. Puerto Vallarta, though. It was lush and beautiful and I got great jewelry and I had guacamole that was akin to heaven. We toured and walked and had a great day. This photo is the skyline the morning we pulled into port - right before we got off to explore.
same, same!
history,
miscellaneous
Monday, October 13, 2008
Photo Evidence
Ok...It hadn't stuck until last night; was just flurries all weekend. I understand to the south of us got it much worse this weekend, but considering this time last year I was still in shorts with the a/c running and we were headed for crazy fire time, I deem this insane and I am so not ready!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)