“I Am a Lady Who…” Thursdays

Thursdays

In hono(u)r of our third monthly “Ladies Who…” Club get-together coming up tomorrow, I wanted to start a weekly blog about just feeling good being a lady!  Feel free to post it on your blog if you have one (see bottom of post), or post a comment to say “I am a Lady Who…”.  Please be sure to include little known facts about yourself, something to brag about, or even just a mundane task you pulled off today.

It could be anything. It could be “I am a Lady Who… dances to John Denver songs.” or “I am a Lady Who… wears scarves on a daily basis.” or even more obscure “I am a Lady Who… plucks her chin hair.” Then, explain why it was important for you to get that off your chest and what significance it means to you to be a “Lady Who…”

Vintage "I am a Lady Who..."

I’ll go first…

“I am a Lady Who… cries every time I watch the movie Hook.”

Yes, there are people who may know this about me. I sometimes watch the movie three or four times in a row when I’m alone. I may not have done this for quite a while, but I’m sure the effect will be the same…Rufio, Rufio, Rufioooooooo…he dies, I’m left feeling like a newborn child naked in the wilderness amongst the wolves. How could they have done this to him?

That’s not the part that really gets me though – it’s when Peter gets back from Neverland and realizes that his business, his drinking, and his cell phone that is bigger than his head are not as important as his family. He crawls in the snow, and still thinks he can fly. He is a changed man.

“Granny Wendy: So… your adventures are over.
Peter Banning: Oh, no. To live… to live would be an awfully big adventure.”

But that’s still not the part that really really gets me. It’s the make believe of it all.  The Lost Boys and their make believe food, their make believe lives and their belief in all that is full of adventure. I wanted to be a Lost Girl, and I believed that if I thought hard enough about a carrot cake, then it would actually appear on my plate. I wanted to come up with words that would create a good come back at any moment.  I wanted someone to touch my face and say “It is you, Meagan” and when they said that it meant I was the person they always thought I was and hoped I was, and that I could fly and fight and crow and never grow up.

It has laughter, it has tenderness and it has excitement.  It’s one of my favorite movies of all time, and I’m proud of it.

Here’s some good banter amongst the boys:

Rufio: Boil-dripping, beef, fart-sniffing bubble butt!
Kids:
Bangarang, Rufio!
Peter Banning: Someone has a severe ca-ca mouth, you know that?
Rufio: You are fart factory, Slug-slimed, sack-of-rat-guts-in-cat-vomit, cheesy, scab-picked, pimple-squeezing finger bandage. A week old maggot burger with everything on it and flies on the side!
Kids: [in unison] Ugh!
Peter Banning: Substitute chemistry teacher.
Lost Boy: Come on, Rufio, hit him back.
Rufio: Mung tongue.
Peter Banning: Math tutor.
Rufio: Pinhead.
Peter Banning: Prison barber.
Rufio: Mother lover.
Peter Banning: Nearsighted gynecologist.
Rufio: In your face, camel cake!
Peter Banning: In your rear, cow derrière.
Rufio: Lying, crying, spying, prying ultra-pig.
Peter Banning: You lewd, crude, rude, bag of pre-chewed food dude.
Thud Butt: [with the rest of the Lost Boys] Bangarang, Peter!
Rufio: You… you man! Stupid, stupid man!
Peter Banning: Rufio, if I’m a maggot burger why don’t you eat me! You two-toned zebra-headed, slime-coated, pimple-farmin’ paramecium brain, munchin’ on your own mucus, suffering from Peter Pan envy!
Don’t Ask: What’s a paramecium brain?
Peter Banning: I’ll tell you what a paramecium is! That’s the paramecium! It’s a one-celled critter with no brain, that can’t fly! Don’t mess with me man, I’m a lawyer!
Kids: [chanting] Banning, Banning, Banning is bangerang.
Rufio: Rufio! Rufio!
Peter Banning: Oh, Rufio, why don’t you just go suck on a dead dog’s nose.

Now, who are you?!

Writing in the Moment

I was at a dinner party last week with some friends of ours, and they were asking me about my book.  I often get asked about my book, and usually I’m a little embarrassed about responding because I don’t honestly think they’re interested in hearing about me sitting down to write everyday. I also generally think they have to ask because I don’t have much else going on besides running and there’s only so much you can ask about that.

That’s when I realized – it is actually the most interesting thing I have ever had to talk about – my book, that is…not running (no offense Charlie and Eileen). It is interesting not only because I find it interesting (although I do), but because I finally found a way to relate it to business, to people, and I think, to truly understand the process I am going through, and a rational explanation of it.

[Sidenote - author has the right to change her views at any time through this book writing process.]  Lady Writing

It goes back to my high school. Most days in acting class, I would struggle.  It was the one thing in my life that I had a natural talent for, but in order to be truly gifted, I had to work really hard at it.  Working really hard at acting is unlike anything else I’ve had to work hard at – until writing, that is.  And, my teachers consistently told me one thing over and over again – “Meagan, you are always trying to get to the end result. You must remember that it is a journey finding the moments in the scene and you can’t jump ahead to the next step before you have finished the one before. It is all a process.”

In business, as discussed with our friends and with Jock, you always have the end goal in mind. You focus on where you want to see the business or the task ahead of you; always looking ahead, always wanting to be three steps forward. It makes sense. You have to know what your competitors are doing, how what you’re doing now will affect the end goal, and being wary of the time constraints put on you by yourself or your company. You must have projections, and constantly be reminding your employees where they are headed…amongst other reasons.

Man Writing

We, as actors and writers, are programmed differently, or are taught to be programmed differently – as in my case.

In order for an actor to be truly truly believable and talented, they need to be completely and utterly in the moment. They need to be consumed by whom they are talking to, the cup of coffee they are drinking or the feelings they have for their lover. If, at the end of  the scene, their lover gets run over by a truck, they CANNOT acknowledge to the audience that they are at all aware of what is about to happen. If the actor even has it in his thoughts, the scene doesn’t work and the moment of surprise is lost and unbelievable.

However, there is a catch 22 with this, and this is why we rehearse. Because, even though the actor must be entranced by the moment happening in front of them, (i.e. the lover) they must also know where he is going to walk (i.e. out of the way of the truck) in order to get in the right position to see the accident occur – the blocking. We rehearse to the point where it becomes mechanical – like a dance – our subconscious begins to know where we must stand and where the scene is going, but our conscious stays right there and now.

And, six months into writing my first novel, I realize that writing is the exact same thing for me.  Of course, I know how I think I want my novel to end. Of course, I know what happens because it is loosely based on real life, and of course, all of that could change as the characters continue to unfold. But what I’m so passionate about is the fact that each word I am writing in the novel I must be writing it as if I were in that room, smelling that wine and feeling those butterflies (or frogs at times – has anyone else ever felt frogs?) in my stomach. I am finding that my writing doesn’t work if I am thinking about what lies ahead.

This is what is so beautiful and infuriating about the process, and it now explains why I was in such a bad mood all the time when I spent a month writing about a particularly upsetting event.

Maybe I am actually more wired to be a business person because I am constantly fighting this desire to get published, to research agents and to think about what I want my book cover to look like; rather than the pure and distinct action of writing – or maybe this is just human nature and the burden of being born as an American.

I don’t know how to write and not be consumed by it while I am writing. I don’t know how to write with the television or radio on. Then again, I don’t know how to watch television and hold a conversation at the same time either. I am just not that talented.

I’m not saying that there aren’t other techniques that other writers use.  This works for me right now, in this moment, during the process. It could all change, and probably will.  That is the joy of it all.

Thank you to A Literal Girl for reminding me of these thoughts I had a few weeks ago, and for inspiring this post.

Connected to the World

I have to admit that living in England, I feel more connected to the rest of the world than I have ever felt before.

Several reasons may cause this change, and here are the top five reasons why I, as an American living in England, am more connected to the rest of the world than ever before.

1. We own a television.

(Living in Los Angeles, I was so surrounded by the media, television, entertainment, etc., that when I was home I wanted the ability to be able to opt out.  So I did. I didn’t own a television, and I never turned the radio on. I worked so many hours that reading a newspaper was out of the question.)

2. We own a television and it’s not American broadcasting.

(I opted out of owning a television in Los Angeles, but I honestly believe that owning one would not have made me more connected to the rest of the world. We do not hear about the rest of the world.  We hear about entertainment, US sensationalized broadcasting, and celebrities. British television, on pretty much any channel, shows international news and shows.)

3. BBC – Radio 1 and News

(I know what’s going on in Afghanistan including what soldiers get killed on a daily basis. I know the details behind the Lockerbie bomber and why he is being freed (supposedly why).  I know that President Obama killed a fly in an interview a couple of months ago. I know that Aung San Suu Kyi, the general secretary of the National League for Democracy in Burma, has been kept under house arrest 14 times in the past twenty years.  This is all due to the BBC. I could have found out this stuff in America, but for some reason find that it is pointless – no one else was interested in knowing about it. Which brings me to my next reason)

4. The English care what happens in the news around the world.

(This is a sweeping generalization, and I’m aware of this, however, the people I hung out with in America just didn’t know, didn’t care to know, or didn’t try to know what was happening in the world. Some said they didn’t want to be involved with the bad energy that watching the news brought out, some said it was boring, and others just didn’t see what it had to do with them. I say it does have to do with the human population, and we should take notice. Knowledge is power, as they say. In England, if I talk about the news, others will have some informed opinion or fact they wish to share as well.)

5. The proximity of the rest of Europe and the impact it has on England.

(In America, perhaps we live in a bubble because we are so far away from everyone else.  And I have defended Americans because of this fact.  We are located in a position geographically in the world that is far away from the rest.  However, England is very far away from Korea, but I know what goes on there while living here…)

Just some food for thought…

The Lifestyle Change Diet

Birthday week has thoroughly ruined my running and dieting. Isn’t that what it’s supposed to do?!

We have a system. Call it what you will – OCD, controlling, anal – but it works and we have lost weight from it and are maintaining it, and still are able to eat what we want.

If I eat under or just on 1,500 calories, then I get a check mark for that day (Jock has 2,300 calories). If I go above that, I get a big fat X on that day.  Jock and I do this everyday, and have done for the last 16 weeks. We average about one or two X’s a week.  Looking back over the last month – well, let’s just say there is a lot of red and a lot of X’s.

Luckily, the measurements happened last week, and I have only gained one pound and have actually lost half an inch from my waist – how?  I have no idea.

Received package of Berger Cookies complete with ingredients for a Lemon Jello Cake from my mom today! So bad, but sooooo good.  Lemon Jello Cake is my absolute favorite and I will post pictures once I bake it.

149 pages of book done!

27, but who’s counting?

As suspected, it rained in Wales at the camp ground.

The hour and a half drive took two and a half hours after we stopped by the hardware store to get some candles and a picnic blanket, a traffic light on a road had gone out and no one knew what to do and so figured the best thing to do would be to not move, and well, it’s the summer and kids are off school!

We arrived to the camp site and most of the sites had been taken, so we got the one next to the emus – no seriously, there were actually emus about a foot away from our tent on the other side of a fence.

The location was stunning – high up in the mountains with green green trees everywhere, and a country pub called Pen-y-cae Inn and waterfalls down the road.  What more could I ask for? Jock had done his research and found the most gorgeous area. I couldn’t tell you the name of the campground because the Welsh have really weird names for stuff – oh, just found it – Dan Yr Ogof Caves, right next to the Cefn Yr Erw Animal Sanctuary, Henryhd Waterfalls. Yup, like I said, weird!!

As we set up the tent, the heavens opened just for us! Luckily, Jock’s training in the African safari paid off, and we got it up in under twenty minutes. That’s when the gnats attacked – we didn’t know to what extent until later.

A nice dinner over at the Pen-y-cae, and back to sleeping in the tent.

I have no room for my legs to stretch, which means Jock doesn’t either.

Tent not set up right and wind swirls around us – a feeling like it will be lifted off the ground – no such luck.

Eight hours of rain, wind, stiff legs and fifteen minute intervals of sleep does not a happy camper make.

Jock wakes up with 93, count them, 93 BUG BITES on his legs!!!

Rain is not stopping.Can’t see five feet in front of us.

Time to reassess the plan – coffee and tea later, we decide to pack it up while we can.

Hour and a half back to Bristol and the sun, internet and computer on…

NEW PLAN FOR SATURDAY: WINDSOR, ENGLAND (yes, that’s where the castle is and the Queen spends her weekends)

Arriving in Windsor

It must have been meant to be because as soon as we arrive, there is not a cloud in the sky and the only hotel available is in Eton (next to Eton College – where six centuries – not generations, but centuries – of boys have studied). The Christopher Hotel was perfect, as was the location, as was the weekend, as was the weather.

If Windsor is fit for the Queen, than it’s fit for me!

Camping will have to wait for another time…

If you want to see pictures of our trip, click HERE.