The Last 5 Years / Third Time's A Charm

One time, in the Fall of 2009, I told my friend who was living in DC that there was a girl down there I thought he should meet.  I couldn't really tell you why I just sort of knew they'd hit it off.  I guess I assumed anyone who went to an Ivy League school then moved down to our nation's capital likely had at least a little in common. 

This girl I told my friend about, I had technically been friends with from the time we were two and talking exceptionally well at an exceptionally young age (ask our mothers - they will regale you with tales of our genius).  Really though, since she'd moved with her family to the middle of the country when we were all of four, we'd spent all of maybe 5 or 6 days time together, and we'd been in touch primarily as pen pals.

That first time didn't work for the friend.  He was busy.  And then another time when I told him he should reach out to her it didn't work out either.  Because he'd started seeing someone he thought he really liked.  So a third time, after the girl he thought he'd really liked had left the capital/him, I gave it one last try.

And this time next week, I'll be driving to VT for their quintessentially New England fall themed wedding.

Not bad, eh?

 

You can take the girl off the Island

but you can't take the Island Girl out of the girl.

that works, right?  makes sense anyway?

wrapping up a week in Aruba, no doubt I was Nantucket Naugs literally squeezing in an hour at the beach this morning in spite of a 4am bedtime and our 10am departure for the airport.

give me a towel, a little purse with some gum, my wallet and lipgloss in it, and get me on that sand - I'm home.  pics to come... but I wanted to get this post up so it makes the May tally.

Perspective

I posted this pic to facebook today toting a tagline that said "a little perspective on this Tuesday afternoon:"

Little B looking so tiny.  My apartment so grown up and yet such a work in progress at the same time.  Patio seating I bought in January that doubles as living room furniture and a desk chair.   I like to think I am doing great though - as the picture my graphic designer friend gave me for my 20somethingth birthday in November says. 

I don't - however - think I am better than anyone or anything.  And I am airing a grievance I have with people who do.  People who aren't team players.  People who believe themselves above.  Because I deal with such people day in and day out and it is taxing.  It is tiring.  It is disheartening and disappointing and actually depressing.

To me anyway.  Because I'm all about community this year.  Come to think of it, I may be all about community in life in general.  I work by myself from a home office, I moved across the country solo, and I may not need to have support before I set off in pursuit of something or other, but I'm still a team player.

And I still prefer team players to egos.

It's all how you look at things, so I'll give people the benefit of the doubt that they're simply shining the only way they know how... and we're all born to shine, so Lord knows I can get on board and support that, but I just don't think in the long run those lone riders do too well.    I think we're better for humbling ourselves.  I think we're appreciated and lauded even for giving of ourselves. 

You need help, call me.  I got your back.  I'm game.  I'll say yes.  What does it hurt to give a little time to extend one's self ever so slightly.   Even to go above and beyond.  There are plenty of days when you won't have to or won't be called, but the thing about "doing great" - great is arbitrary, it's fluff, it's a throwaway, the idea is, the point is... you're doing.

May is National Recommitment Month

That's all.

Who knew?

it's getting hot in here...

literally - like I think I may need to start using my AC.  In April - kenya believe it?!

But anyway, I digress... also steaming up is the news story about legendary averse-to-marriage-actor George Clooney popping the question to London's fancy lady lawyer Amal Alamuddin.  And I guess I'd been wondering what my fourth post in as many days would be about but now there's no doubt it's simply to e-high five the author of this article and repost it here, now that I've read it and reacted by giving a hearty applause to it halfway through:

Amen is what my coworker wrote before g-chatting me the link.  Amen is right.

And as I have said time after time...it's always always worth the wait.  *Especially if the pay off for waiting is George Clooney.

I get lipstick now!

Like, I get it.  The reason my mom/grandmother/aunts will never leave home without putting it on.  And why they always say it would finish whatever outfit I'm wearing or look I'm going for.

I get it because I found this perfect shade at Origins when I was in NYC for the first wedding of the 2014 season last month and lured in to the store on the Upper Upper West Side by the sign out front advertising free mini facials.  (First of all, look at my skin in this picture, I mean, their product and the girl who did my mini facial worked wonders for sure):

But back to the point about lipstick - so I keep finding myself doing double takes before going to bed the nights I've come home from something I've worn the lipstick to (a networking event/date, an audition, improv class, puppy class) because it's long staying lipstick and even as I'm brushing my teeth or putting on my pjs, I'm struck by how pretty I look/feel thanks to the perfect hued stain.

So lovely.  It's so lovely to feel pretty.

I wrote 10 scenes of a screenplay this weekend...

what did you do?

Kidding.

Not the part about the writing.  I really did that.  I also wrote the scene headings for the other 24 scenes which felt like a pretty big accomplishment in and of itself.

Blake Snyder's rule is 15 beats, but there's no limit to scene counts other than "as many scenes as are necessary to tell the story, but no more."

I'm sure whatever you did this weekend was considerably more eventful and at the very least leagues more social than what I did, but next weekend I'll be on a retreat in Malibu which is actively inactive.

An old college friend of mine texted me late last night (by west coast standards, which meant is was real late by east coast married friend standards) and concluded that my life "sounds freaking awesome."

It is.

It's just also monastic.

Oh I rescued my puppy this afternoon - from a pack of big dogs who clearly own their corner of the dog park (noted for future reference) and were excited about the prospect of snacking on poor little B in all his glorified fluffy/easily confused with a cat-ness.   So that got my pulse racing.

But yeah, otherwise - it was a slow SoCal sort of weekend.  Back to the grind in 9 hours.  East coast agenting style - never you fear.

And actually - sorellina, and whoever else happens upon this little account of the life and times of LA Naugs, look forward to two more posts in the next three days.  Can't let the last of April slip by without reaching my 4 count in honor of the 4th month :) 

...what will get you out of bed in the morning

My puppy, Little B (not to be confused with my pound puppy, Bubba, on the right):

just bolted after the plush felt covered neon colored frisbee I bought him when it was more than half his size, and I was soooo struck by the jolt of energy he exhibited.  I don't know how but I managed to trick him into sleeping in for an extra couple hours after he got up to go to the bathroom at 7, and if you could have seen him stretching out on the couch and lazily waking up 20 minutes ago you would have thought he'd straight up grown out of his puppy activity levels...but one toss of that frisbee and zip - he was back in the game.

And this happens every morning before I start work at 6am when I'm in LA.  After a quick walk and quick breakfast he's all systems go for zooming around my apartment, fetching whatever toys I fling across the room, chasing his tail like a wild animal.

It's so funny.  It's so inspiring.  I wonder if there's anything I can wake up and get excited about doing instantly the way he gets excited about playing. 

Made me think of that line from Fall In Love, the Arrupe Prayer.

Nothing is more practical than
finding God, than
falling in Love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide
what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
- See more at: http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/prayers-by-st-ignatius-and-others/fall-in-love/#sthash.xHNb9kvi.dpuf

Nothing is more practical than
finding God, than
falling in Love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination, will affect everything.
It will decide
what will get you out of bed in the morning,
what you do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, whom you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in Love, stay in love,
and it will decide everything.
- See more at: http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/prayers-by-st-ignatius-and-others/fall-in-love/#sthash.xHNb9kvi.dpuf

Have you met T...inder?

In honor of what I consider to have just been a legendarily stellar series finale, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the dear friend of mine who introduced our old group to HIMYM some 7 years ago... pretty sure I watched the first season when it was already out on DVD.

And I want to toast (since tonight's the eve of my sober April) to Ted never having to Tinder.

A little relic from the real McLarens... we knew it when...

Nomads vs Jetsetters

Have been meaning to post the difference quickly for a while now...

A nomad lives out of a suit case a little bit:

They're go with the flow, and good about packing light so they can pick up and go.

But a jetsetter's baller (or ballerina) as the case may be.  They've got a home base they always come back to and recharge at.  They're just also perpetually portable, packed and ready to roam about:

So glad to be able to clear that up.

Many thanks to Little B for his help demonstrating this distinction.

Quota

3 posts in March would be plenty easy to accomplish as it is, but I read this and wanted to send it into the ether somewhere less public than facebook or twitter, so here you have it, a little P.O.V. that resonates with me quite a bit:

https://medium.com/i-m-h-o/bc9cc723999c

Real Quick

On the syllabus I had for myself for this month I had "Write Blog Post" down for today, but I'm just under the wire of my grandma-like east coast hour worknight bedtime, so I've just gotta share this thought quickly...

Not for the first time, I was just told by a friend that they wish they could have a bit more of the faith I have in knowing I will end up where I'm supposed to end up, with who I'm supposed to end up, however I'm supposed to end up there.  And I told her I always wish I could do a better job of giving some of it to others - some of this faith in everything working itself out and optimism in general.

 

If I could put either in pill form I'd proscribe both for all my friends and sisters and sisterfriends.

 

Oddly enough, back at BC, I once introduced myself as Danielle Naugler - the blonde curly haired Danielle (there were a few of us on the council of majors being introduced to incoming Freshman theatre majors) - and beyond excited to be meeting them all... I must have said something else witty or welcoming or what have you, however I delivered the intro it got a good laugh and hearty applause from the crowd, but what was best was the compliment it garnered from one of my favorite teachers in the department...

"That energy," he said to me with a potentially inebriated heavy handed pat on the shoulder, "if I could take it, and BOTTLE it, and SELL it, I'd be a millionaire."

He loved it.

I loved it.

I love life.

A few firsts of note

Was thinking about my first time tonight - how special it was.  It was in New Mexico.  And I honestly had no idea what the guy was doing.  Because I'd given him my keys and thought he was going to drive, but when he walked over to the passenger side door, I said, "oh you want me to drive?" and he shook his head as if to say, you silly silly city girl.

"I'm opening the door for you."

He was opening the door for me.  It was the first time a gentleman had actually gone and done that so matter of factly and deliberately at the same time.  It was the first time a guy had done that for me when I wasn't you know, carrying cupcakes, or Christmas gifts or something of that nature.  So naturally I spazzed.  I may have blushed, cause I was literally tickled pink at the thought.  And I sort of guffawed because I was so genuinely surprised and entertained by the gesture.

And anyway - on the west coast it's common for guys to get the door for girls I think.  Or else maybe I've only been meeting Southern transplants, but either way, what's sad is that the novelty's worn off.  It will never be as magical as it was when it happened in Enchanted NM.

The first time you fall in puppy love's pretty irreplaceable too.  I mean puppy sighs sort of puppy love.  Literally when the puppy that is yours without a doubt first senses you've had a terrible day at work, or you're so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open, or most of the people you love most in this world are thousands of miles away at present, so he snuggles up on your lap, or in the crook of your arm or with his head right on your shoulder if it's night time and you're saying your prayers.

I remember the first time my parents' dog, Rusty, sensed I'd really been hurt by a recent break up and he followed me up stairs and slept at the foot of my bed.  I love that scruffy looking, underbite yielding, fourth position footed pup, don't get me wrong, but Little B's the best thing I can imagine bringing into the picture on a "make better bad decisions in 2014" whim and wow does he fill my heart with real deal maternal love for the first time.

That's all she wrote tonight, folks, but at least she wrote!

How ACK ruined me for and gave me new life

Five years ago in April of 2009 I got this gchat from one of my best guy friends from high school that just said "wanna move to nantucket this summer"

And I didn't really think before saying yes.  I'd grown up visiting my great grandparents on the Cape, but I'd never been to the islands off of Massachusetts, I didn't need to have seen it to know it was where I needed to be that Summer though, so I just went.  I picked up and moved to the middle of the Atlantic ocean.  Lived in a verified 3 bedroom house we called The Hourglass:

here it is in all it's 4th of July at sunset glory

Worked mornings as an agent and split my afternoons between time on Cisco, Surfside or Nobadeer beach and spent writing parts of my great American (teeny bopper) novel (estimated publishing date 2016).

Got over my college bf once and for all.  Drank way too much, and gained an annoying amount of weight.  Got a gig hosting an airband competition on Sunday nights.  Had half a hundred friends and family members visit for memorable weekends of whimsy. 

Had a time, really.  It was the summer we were 24 and 25 - there were no rules but our house rules, there was no rush, but there was always somewhere to be later that night...the Chicken Box for Donovan Frankenreiter, the Wauwinet for a tasting at Toppers, in town to pick up so and so or whoever it was that was getting in that night on the last ferry.

But anyway - I bring it up to point out the way it ruined me.  (The ways it gave me new life are obvious I think - I was so independent: picking flowers in a field to put in the wicker basket I'd brought from Elsworth to spruce up our living room, unavailable to be at my family and friends' beck and call for the first time in my life - Nantucket Naugs was the ultimate free spirit and throw your hands up at me sort of sisterfriend).  It ruined me because my two roomies and I lived in said 3 bedroom house sans furniture, sans a full set of utensils, sans cable, sans over head lighting, sans a full length mirror, sans so many things... But we lived soooo fully and had so much fun, and we were always in the moment, whether we were out on the porch in sleeping bags staring up at the stars or secretly off-roading in the jeep my roomie bought on a whim one afternoon.  And we wanted for nothing.  We thought we were going out ther in search of ourselves and of answers and of the things we would realize we should do next, but we wound up content just treading water.  We made it work in so many ways and with so little effort.

And ever since, I've just reveled in this knowledge of the ability I acquired amidst adapting to a minimalistic existence - the ability I have to float.  I need so little.

I deserve so much (we all do, bright lights that we are, good hearts that we have, generous spirits, talented selves), but I need so little...

Hence - how and why I was fine sleeping on the floor for my first 10 days in LA this January ;)