It's all anyone can talk about. How can some kid, and let's face it, the Connecticut school murderer was still a kid at age 20, kill his mother and then enter an elementary school intent on carnage? Not just an elementary school, but a school that only taught from kindergarten to fourth grade. Little people.

We talk about him and why he murdered 20 babies who would never get to see double digits. He also killed six adults at the school and his mother. This forces us to think about the two boys at Columbine who murdered 12 of their fellow students and 1 teacher (1999). We refer to the kid who killed 32 of his schoolmates at Virginia Tech (2007). Not to mention just last week when a 22 year old kid killed two people in a mall in Oregon. I could go on and on.

• Aurora, CO - 12 dead (2012)
• Chardon, OH - 3 dead (2012) 
• Tuscon, AZ - 6 dead (2011)
• Dekalb, IL - 6 dead (2008)
• Henderson, KY - 6 dead (2008)
• Salt Lake City, UT - 6 dead (2007)
• Omaha, NE - 9 dead (2007)
• Crandon, WI - 6 dead (2007)

These happened in the past 15 years and the killers were all under age 28. Insanity. There are plenty more killings with older killers. 

We talk about these people, saying they are evil. We focus so much on the acts of these murderers, repeating their names until they become part of the human fabric, when it is really the victims who should have the honor of being remembered. A thought struck me after seeing a meme of a quote from Mr. Rogers who said, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." 

Those people, the helpers, they are angels. I heard a sermon at my church the other day contemplating why in Bible times people saw angels and we don't see them anymore. I think we do. We see them, but they just take the form of humans and help when we need it most. Even to the point where they sacrifice their own lives for the protection of others. What could be more angelic than that? They overcome their fear to protect those who don't have that angel power of bravery. 

Some angels: (A very short list)

Portland, OR

The Macy's employees who helped people safely escape the shooter in the Clackamas mall in Portland, Oregon are: Allan Fonseca, Mariah Saldana, Cyndi Lou Johnston, Kelsey Barrow. 

Newtown, CT

Dawn Hochsprung, the principal of Sandy Hook in Connecticut, and Mary Sherlach, the school therapist, were shot to death as they charged the shooter. First grade teacher Vicki Soto, hid her students and was murdered when the shooter found her standing in an empty room. 

Aurora, CO

Jon Blunt, Alex Teves, and Matt McQuin were all killed while shielding their girlfriends from the Aurora killer. 

Let's remember these people, these angels. And let's never mention the name of one of these killers again. Who they were is not important. We need to remember that in the darkness of evil and fear, there are always angels there who will help. 

I just pray that we never have to find out if we are one of them. 

Marie Claire interviews Bug. (Sort of)

Whenever I see a short interview in a magazine, I wonder what kinds of questions people would ask me, you know, should they decide that there are questions that only I have the most sage and witty answers to.
So I decided to usurp an interview from Marie Claire magazine, March 2013. I'm just going to delete Emma Watson's words and replace them with mine. Yay.

WHAT'S ON YOUR...

Liquor shelf or bar: First off, isn't Emma Watson 12? Shouldn't she not have things on her liquor shelf? Wait, should she even HAVE a liquor shelf? And only a shelf? Rookies. Oh, my answer is dark beers and red wine. 

Perennial to do list: Clean the litterbox. Seriously. Every to do list has this on it. 

Last Credit Card Bill:  Um, late fees and finance charges. Weeeeeeee!

Netflix Queue: Every single movie that anyone may have even just vaguely referenced in film school. Though I admit that the last thing I watched on Netflix that was not research or for school was an Australian teen show about ballet dancers called Dance Academy.

Ideal Dinner Party Guest List: Martha Stewart (someone has to set the table), Julia Child (someone has to cook), Tom Ford (someone needs to dress me), Coco Chanel (someone needs to make me pretty), Idina Menzel (someone needs to sing), Ryan Gosling (duh), and that guy who lifted my skirt and looked at my underpants in the 2nd grade (someone needs to clean the litterbox). 

Feet: I have a dwindling but still delightful collection of whimsical socks. My favorites include ones with Boston Terriers on them (Go BU!), a recent acquisition that look like sock monkey socks, and my holey (holy) Hannukah socks. 

Sh*t List: For shame, Marie Claire. Um, I hate people who are snotty without a reason, especially when I am feeling a little shy and so I try to grin and make at least a vague connection. Yucky.

iPhone App List: I'm gonna copy Emma here and go with the Aroundme app. Use it every day. I also like Accuweather because I like to see how much they can lie to me about snow in one winter. 

Coffee Table: My coffee table is a leather ottoman and it usually is covered by laptop and cat.

Playlist: Oh goodness, I hate to admit this but I love that new Taylor Swift song 'Trouble'. I also love Paramore, and that song by Sia and David Guetta 'Titanium'. I also like Bruno Mars 'It Will Rain' and 'Cough Syrup' by Young the Giant.

Charity List: I've donated to Kiva for years. I used to deliver for Meals on Wheels. I'd like to get involved with Rhino preservation. 

Bucket List: Totally just wrote bucket lust, but I don't think I have that. I'd like to get to every continent. I want to see one of my screenplays/teleplays get made into a real studio production. 

Pinterest Board: Okay, I am woefully under-invested in pinterest. So I just pin things that I want that I can't afford. Maybe someone will see it and buy it for me? I also used pinterest once to pin a ton of bangs that I liked and also bangs that I didn't like so I could be very clear for my hair stylist when he was cutting the bangs that I ended up loving before they grew a little too long and I was too lazy to get them trimmed and now they linger at a weird place around my nose and poke my eyeballs all of the time. 

Workout Plan: I have one. I am sure of it. I just have to clean the litterbox first.

All Time Favorite Books List: 'The Last Days of Summer' by Steven Kluger. This is such a charming book. I laughed out loud. I cried. I spoke to the author on Facebook once and he told me he had written it for his dad. That made me love it even more.

Screen Saver: On my phone it is a picture of me and my mom.

The Walls of Your Favorite Room in Your House: I love this picture my friend gave to me of all the places we've been on my birthday over the years. It's such a wonderful reminder of some really fun trips and how long we've been friends.

Vanity Cabinet Shelves: I don't have these. I assume they're asking what's my favorite beauty product. I love the Moroccan Hair Oil and Burt's Bees Lip Balm. I'd like a magical mascara that makes my short, straight lashes long, lush and curly. 

Car stereo: I listen to my iPod, the one I didn't lose. I also listen to a WAMU and WTOP which is a sign that I am getting old. When I was a kid and my mom would be driving me somewhere, her need to listen to talk radio seemed ridiculous. The car is a perfect concert venue! Now I am my mother. 

Twitter Feed: I follow all TV writers because I plan to steal their ideas. 

Go-To Menu: I am sooo lazy that I try to eat foods that I can just jam into my mouth. However, if I am hosting a fancy meal, my go to is beef Wellington. But that has not happened in a while. 

Your Top 5 List: Top 5 of what? Things I can't live without? 1. My cat Bill Simon. 2. My family. 3. Reading material. 4. Fruit (especially pomegranates, grapefruit, berries). 5. Wheels. This girl needs to travel! I like driving around. Also, music. I know, I said I listen to talk radio, but you would not BELIEVE the concerts I have had in my car and house. 

Instagram: No. 

Nightstand: Sparkling water because I am fancy when I am late night thirsty. My iPad because reading is good. About a 100 books that I am either reading or waiting to read. Right now I am reading "A Visit From the Goon Squad" by Jennifer Egan. 

Future Itinerary: I want to get out to LA. I want to visit my newly reconnected cousins in Oregon. I want to go to some water place with my friends for my birthday. I want to go to Uganda because I have a student whose grandfather is high up there and I want to utilize that connection. This list could go on and on forever!

Fantasy Itinerary: See above. 

Prude to be an American

So, I'm in Germany. My mom lives near this spa. It's a pool that takes its water from a natural spring. It's warm and a little salty. That last fact is rather unpleasant when you just took a razor to your monkey legs in an attempt to be more presentable. Otherwise, it is awesome. Also, there is an in pool exercise class every hour. I did two of them.
My mom decided to treat us each to a massage at this spa. Glorious, right? I went first. I went into the spa area whilst my mother splashed around in the pool. I was led into a small room by a young lady. In the room was a massage table and not much else. She told me to strip to the waste. I lingered a bit, wondering would she leave? Nope. Um.
Okay, no problem. I'm not prude, right? So I whip my t-shirt off with aplomb and throw it on a stool. Didn't even fold it!
Standing there in my bra and pants, I stop. Turning to her I say bra, too? She says, yeah. Or you can just lay down and unclasp it. Okay. yeah. I'll do that. At this point it has become weird for me. Weird that I am making it a big deal and weird that she stayed to watch me strip down.
I lay down on the table and unclasp. Then I start thinking about how that looks. Bra all tangled up under me. That leads me to thinking about what she's thinking about. Is she thinking that I'm weird? Prude?
In the mess of getting my pseudo naked body onto the table, I was too far up and when I put my face into the little face hole, the bridge of my nose was smushed. I could have just slid down a bit, but things were already uncomfortable, so I just stayed there. Hurting.
The massage itself was nice. But then when she was finished, I sat up and reached right for my over the shoulder pebble holder, awkwardly, of course. She said, relax. Enjoy this heat lamp I'm gonna put on you. Heat lamp? Okay.
She leaves the room and I continue to awkwardly lay there, still too high on the table and slightly undressed. The lamp still had three minutes on it, but I bolted out of there feeling like a teenager whose dad thinks it is a cool idea for him to have his first sexual experience at a brothel.
DRAMATIC!
It's not my first massage. I dunno what my problem was.
Seriously, though. So prude. I am definitely not a real German.

The process

Hi!

How are ya? I'm good. Finally worked my way through the first draft of my pilot TV comedy script. (Well, actually I think it is the 4th or 5th, but those were completely different stories, so I am calling this draft 1 because it is the first version of this story). But yay! Seriously. It's so unfunny and I have tasked several capable and hilarious writers to aid in the punch up. But step one! Woo!

I have another script to write. I'm working on a spec script of The Middle. Tomorrow is the big writing day. We'll see how it goes. Did I tell you I only have a week to get my scripts up to par for submission as my thesis?

Oh, the thesis. The dreaded thesis. I am so bored of talking about it. I'm sure everyone else is even more tired of hearing about it. But who will I be without it hanging over my head? Will I just fade into oblivion like Marty McFly when George McFly gets sucker punched and the romantic liaison with Lorraine looks to be a no-go?

I think I need a camera on me while I write. You know, like the cameras they have in the zoo. I'm like a caged animal. I set the stage for myself. Notes, laptop, reference books all bedecking my dining room table while I pace anxiously nearby. Finally, I face the keyboard. Sweat dripping down the side of my face (I'm too poor for AC), I nervously peck the keyboard.

FADE IN:

Now what!?! I stand, taking deep breaths. Can't quit yet, so I return to my seat and continue.

EXT. 

Exterior what? House? Town? Pawn shop? Crap. Is that a stain on my counter? Hold on. I'm going to wipe that down really quick. Don't want it to stain. Okay, I'm back.

EXT. ARM PIT BAR AND GRILL - NIGHT

That's it! The Armenian Pit Grill is in everyone one of my scripts. Let's start there. It's based on Bungalow Billiards, which we gently refer to as the Bunghole. Okay, good. We have a location.

INT. ARMPIT - SAME
The bar is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with. 

Great. Situation established! What's that kitty cat? You want to look out the window with me? Is a storm coming? Doesn't look like it. Let's check the front door. Hey, the mail is here. Maybe someone sent money.

Checking... Insurance bill. Magazine. Oh, my, she is seriously photoshopped on that cover. Ooh, a Target coupon book. Man, doesn't anyone write letters anymore? Yay! Netflix! Hey, it's the next disc in the "Dead Like Me" series. Maybe I will just watch one episode. It's well crafted. It will totally inspire my writing.

1 episode

2 episodes

3 episodes

4 episodes

Shoot. I didn't mean to watch all of those. But I guess it's best. This way I can send the disc back.

Back at my computer. Why did I think starting at the bar was a good idea.? I mean, who's there? What are they doing?



EXT. ARMENIAN PIT GRILL - NIGHT



INT. ARMPIT - SAME



The bar is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with.

EXT. JAVA HUT COFFEE SHOP

Java Hut? EXT. JAVA HUT GROUND ZERO COFFEE SHOP

Too soon? EXT. GROUND ZERO MISTER BEAN'S COFFEE SHOP - MORNING


Screw it. That's just going to have to work for now. 


The bar coffee shop is filled with frats boys, dodgeball players, and hill staffers who are looking for a, shall we say, fun person to hang out with.  prepping for their long day. 


What are dodgeball players doing getting coffee? Do they get coffee? My friend Jacques plays dodgeball, but he brings a little flask of fancy coffee. I mean, come on, this is DC. We are fancy people.  You know, maybe I should take a little nap. I bet I'll dream the perfect situation. 

My heart is breaking

Ah, being human is a treat, isn't it? We beat each other up, kill each other, or just torment one another to the point of no return. Why are we so cruel?


I was transcribing an interview with Nancy Pelosi who spoke about women needing to kick down doors and start demanding their rights. How is it possible that in 2012 women are still being paid less money for the same job as men? The fact that the women in the Senate actually voted against the Equal Pay Act is beyond mind boggling. Yet, this behavior is exactly why women aren't getting ahead. Men have a tendency to support one another in their boys club attitude, but women have been fighting for so long that it winds up being a personal battle and all other women be damned. This HAS to change. And I think it is, slowly. I think my generation, and the ones following it are getting used to women being in charge and there seems to be a shifting current in the pride women have for each other. (I hope this is not wishful thinking).


But what a joy to be a woman, eh? Men all over this country have appointed themselves guardians of our womanhood, our health? Huh? Why are men chiming in on circumstances they have no right to speak on, much less make policy on? My ex boyfriend spent an inordinate amount of time adjusting his bits, which honestly? Gross. But I did not make rules about it, because I don't have those bits. So why on earth would a man think he has any say in women's health? I think the only time a man can chime in about a woman's reproductive health is if she is pregnant with his child, or she has given him that right and she can no longer speak/act for herself. I don't want to get tangled up in the complications that arise from a pregnancy that the man wants to keep and the woman wants to end, or vice versa. 


During the whole promotion of medical rape, there were several women in office who were advocating mens health and this was met with a chuckle. Why? Why are men taken seriously when deeming themselves master of all things female, and women are laughed out of the room when acting on the same behalf for men? Every female knows that there is not a single man out there that understands women. Not a one! Some just pretend better than others. But face it, guys. We befuddle you. So keep your hands out of my medical choices.


Finally, on my apple box (get what I did there? I'm standing on my platform which often was an apple box, but I am typing into my Apple computer) address about human rights, let's look at the latest thing to piss a lot of people off. Dan Cathy and Chick-fil-A.


I read today that Mayor Bloomberg (NYC) thinks that the mayors of Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco are wrong in blocking Chick-fil-A from their cities. (By the way, DC mayor Gray has also chimed in, calling it "hate chicken"). Bloomberg says that "You really don’t want to ask political beliefs or religious beliefs before you issue a permit. That’s just not government’s job." Now, I agree to a point. Freedom of speech, capitalism, and all that. Yet when the person running the company who is applying for a permit blatantly airs his beliefs and they go against the basic tenets of human rights and more importantly, human decency, I think that it does become the government's job to protect its citizens. Mayor Gray's spokesman seems to be right on the money: “We will not support and don’t want them here, but if they are legally entitled to a permit, they are legally entitled to a permit,” Ribeiro said."


In doing some research for this enlightening article that you are currently taking in, I learned that Chick-fil-A stopped its "Eat Mor Chikin"campaign during the mad cow situation so as not to seem insensitive. In fact, Dan Cathy, the president and CEO of the chain claims that Chick fil-A's mission is to "To glorify God by being a faithful steward of all that is entrusted to us. To have a positive influence on all who come in contact with Chick-fil-A". It's a Christian company, but to me it seems that by taking such a stand against homosexuality, they are completely snubbing their noses at the teachings of Jesus. The Bible says things like judge not, lest ye be judged and do unto others as you would have done to you and  thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. But let's forget the Bible for a second. What does David and Michael's romance have to do with you? (Unless you have a crush on one of them, then too bad for you). If they are happy, then let them be happy.


If you're concerned about pda's. Well, I'm always concerned about this. There is no need for anyone to be rubbing body parts near where I can see them, unless of course I am paying to see that, but that's a different circumstance altogether :). So boy on boy, girl on girl, girl on boy, boy on girl, I don't care! As long as they're both adults and consenting go have at it... behind walls... where I don't have to bear witness.


We've been through this, people! Seriously. Go watch "The Loving Story" and see that we've just traded who we are attacking.  Can't we just worry about our own problems and let others worry about their's? Stop making people feel so worthless that death becomes preferable to the unwarranted and unceasing torment from jackasses who misunderstand their religion.
The most shocking aspect to me is that it always seems to come from the people who really have no foot to stand on.


I'm going to be done here in a minute. I know I am hammering it in at this point, but I am so disappointed in us. We are a hair short of stoning people, for what? For loving? And people are proud of themselves for this?

Still here. Still tired. Still broke.*

I used to enjoy talking to Rick. I had to lean in really close to hear what he said because he spoke so very quietly. He didn't smell all that great, which made leaning in less desirable, but boy, he sure knew a lot about a lot. Every now and then he'd get on a tangent about George Bush, and the CIA, and honestly, I did not know what to do with that. Nonetheless, I felt there was something to it. I think his dad was in the Navy and maybe he was, too. I don't know.

Rick was sick and Rick was homeless. He had a family somewhere. I knew this because his mom came once to try and bring him home. But he found his home. It was at my church, where he greeted me each time I came. One time I greeted him and he asked me who I was. It offended me. Can you believe that? I was offended that after so many years of talking with him, he didn't remember me. This happened one time and it offended me so much, I never sat and spent time talking to him again. Oh, I greeted him, and held the door open, but suddenly, I was blocked.

I usually feel like I'm a pretty good person. Not perfect. Not even great, but good. I may even take pride in it. That's kind of paradoxical, isn't it? Taking pride in my goodness. Right now I just feel like a jerk. A mean, inconsiderate, and cruel jerk.

He had a brain tumor and other assorted tumors, in addition to schizophrenia. Now perhaps I never saw his medical records, but I knew he struggled with his health and mental well-being. I know this. What snapped that made me cut him off? And the biggest irony, as I mentioned before, I only saw him at my church.

The church truly was his home. He was very careful to protect it. He would cover his hand so no one could see the code that lets you in the back door. He would patrol the property and kick out other people who tried to nestle in. He'd join us for coffee and cake on Sundays, and very respectfully excuse himself to go out and have a smoke. He and I used to sit on the sofa, drinking coffee and talking sports.

He used to walk around DC a lot. He made friends with a lot of people. He saved the best things the church gave to him to give to others who needed it more than he did. He left what had known and chose to follow his own path and I think that he lived life the way he wanted to, given his circumstances.

Rick died last week. He was in his late 50s. His family took him home to NC where his family, including his two children could memorialize him. They lost him a long time ago, but now they could finally rest, knowing he was not hurting anymore.

His death made me suddenly shine a huge spotlight on how I treat people. It's terrifying. I don't want to be so self-indulgent that I will remove you if you don't make me feel like I'm a good person. It was not his fault that he didn't recognize me. Who knows what was going on that day for him? Just like that guy who cuts me off and follows it up with the middle finger, I don't know his situation.

Today I was in Petsmart with Harms and I asked a lady about her service dog, and she got really upset. It made me feel awful. I didn't mean to offend, and don't know why she reacted that way. But that's the key here, really. I don't know what her circumstances are so I just smiled, told her to have a nice day, and hastily got out of her way.

I'm glad Rick won't suffer any more. I am thankful to him for reminding me that time is fleeting and that each moment is precious (sorry for the cliches). But most of all, that we can't gauge how people are going to react to us, so we just need to do our best to be as good and as happy as we can be, and hope that translates to those around us.

Rick, I am truly sorry for being such an arrogant jackass. I hope heaven is all it's cracked up to be. I sure hope I get to go and be greeted by you there.



* This was Rick's response anytime you'd ask how he was.

Ear worm

Man, so Carly Rae Jepson really nailed the ear worm thing. This song has captured everyone! So here are a couple of other versions. The Cookie Monster one at least makes sense (To me). Also, I want a cookie. I saw a peanut butter cookie at Panera the other day that looked holy!



The second video is of Carly and Jimmy Fallon. (Why are there two late night Jimmys? It's confusing). Oh, and The Roots. If you didn't like the song before, this version will make you fall in love with it.



Then finally, the one that started it all for me when Marci showed it to me a long time ago. I had never heard the song at this point. Oh, to go back to those innocent days... Also, can someone get the Harvard Baseball team a better choreographer? Also, yes, that boy was asleep for the whole ride.



I am ready for a new catchy song. Bring it!