The Seven Year Niche

I can remember a time in my life when I longed for what I now have. Living near the beach, doing what I love to do, feeling intrinsically myself. About seven years ago, I embarked upon a journey that I envisioned being a hell of a lot different. But here I am, right where I'm supposed to be.

As I sit sipping Bud Light, enjoying the few hours lull before the week day starts again, I happen upon The Devil Wears Prada on FX. I've seen it before and Emily Blunt was the best part. Don't get me started on Anne Hathaway. Anyway, the premise is what clicked in my brain. The message this time around being: no matter how many hoops one tells you to jump through, the hoops you set for yourself are the hardest, and so why jump for anyone else?

No matter how hard the days get pursuing my own ever evolving dream...feeling disconnected from friends and family scattered throughout the country, scraping by on whatever money there is at the moment, trying to pick my tear and snot stained face off the floor and keep pushing on...the day it all breaks into prosperous fruition is what I do it for. Well, that and seeing how it unfolds...I love a good drama, it's true.

I'm truly thankful for my life, and I'm proud of all the effed up crazy I deal with all the time. It could always be worse...I could be working a job that I hate, waking up to mediocrity and falling asleep to the same. I've said it many times before, I'll say it many times again, no doubt. It's taken me years to realize fully, but I'm so glad to be right here, in this moment. In California, writing what's in my heart, feeling like I'm part of the world. And an important part at that, because there's no other Lola like me out there.

If it takes another seven years for me to see the crescendo to all this, so be it. It's been said that in these dramatic times economically, mentally, emotionally....one has a great opportunity to carve out a niche. Boy am I glad I have a leg up on that shit. And cheers to those of you in the same boat or plotting a course to be in said boat...Let's carve this bad boy like a Thanksgiving Day bird.

Oh, and P.S...for all of you Daisy of Love-ers...my money is on Dave-er-12 Pack. My heart is with Flex though. That accent kills me and the guy liner is working for me. Rrrawr with a side of bawm chicka bawmbawm.

Imagineering and Filmisizing

The battle between books and books on film rages on. I don't know if others take the debate as much to heart as I do, but I do know that I've heard the phrase "The book was SO much better" a lot more than the inverse. Sensual experience versus a quiet personal retreat.
In the last couple years a few of my favorite books/stories have made their way to the visual mediums and my initial reactions are always less than excited, honestly.

I just started the book Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie for the fifth time. I don't jive with the cliches of girly lit usually (when you're a book club member 3 fold you get a few random choices) but this one has frank, funny, fleshed out characters you care about, characters that I've received comfort and laughter and tears through periodically for years.I'd be a little disheartened to see a film version in the works for that very reason. These people have been intimately emblazoned on my brain, and it's too tricky a challenge for human folks to embody that to the same degree. Vivid imagination doesn't want to be told what it "should" do when it already does.

I'm a long time fan of the Charlene Harris novels that are now the series True Blood on HBO. Even if the show is well made and the supporting cast is well worth the watch, the two leads are not (and that's kind of the whole crux of the story). The dirty southern atmosphere is well mimicked but not as lush and enchanting as the one in my mind. The forthcoming movie based on Patricia Cornwell's Kay Scarpetta character is cringe worthy, even with Angelina Jolie attached. And that's tough to say. Dr. Scarpetta is a unique bad ass/basket case hybrid and I know Angie can do it well, but my inner tuning rod is already set for another lady. One that exists for me exclusively. One that I (as juvenile as it sounds) look up to. Big pretend shoes to fill.


The beauty of a book is that your perspective changes as you grow, mature, age. Every re-read is a testament to your life experience, the story speaking to you accordingly. Film is not the the re-examination but rather the reminiscing of what, who and how life was when you saw it in an exquisite nostalgic way. But it's not a boundless entity like your mind...it has parameters and lighting and structures that are fathomable. Still beautiful heralded art. But static.

It's almost impossible to try and blend the two, no matter how close the race is. Fight Club, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and Trainspotting are among my favorite movies, but I've yet to read the books behind them. As is the way of the world, all things happen for a reason-maybe those moving, entertaining films wouldn't have had such an impact if my mental multi-plex had gotten a hold first, and vice versa. Perhaps that's the key. Keep the two realms separate and you won't have to try and meld one into the other, get disappointed or confused when they won't. If a book has a lot of meaning for you, don't venture out of that for curiosity sake. Let those who want that version have it their way. Make like Burger King.

Internally or externally...a good story is a good story. In our infinite technological capabilities, one day we will be able to capture the thoughts and characters in our heads as we read and be able to trade/compare them with one another in a giant orgy of telepathic projecting,...now THAT would be the perfect marriage of page and screen. And well worth the price of admission.