Birthday Music #3: Arlene

Name: Arlene (aka @wzzy)

Girls Rock Camp Donation Tally: $15

Relationship: Arlene and I are friends on Twitter. I'm not entirely sure how we found each other. I do remember, however, that Arlene was the first person on Twitter to share the post I thought no one would ever read.

How Did We Meet: We've never met in person. We almost did. Once. When Arlene came to Seattle. She and I will drink scotch together in Los Angeles one night. And talk.

Something about Arlene: She's kind. A persistent supporter. And she went to Smith. And she loves her son dearly. And she manages Curt Smith. (And, yes, there is a Curt Smith song on her playlist.)

Arlene's Playlist: Eclectic pop from multiple decades; lots of stuff I'd never heard before.

Delivery: Arlene mailed a CD to Oliver's Twist via USPS Priority Mail. She definitely wins the "I put energy into this, damn it" award: a custom CD cover and an enclosed spreadsheet explaining why she selected each song. It made me want to talk to her more about the stories at which she only hinted.

Favorite (Nostalgic) Track: "Mayor of Simpleton," XTC. It has been too long. And, Arlene, I love Andy too.

Favorite (New to Me) Track(s): "Champagne Taste (Live)," Eartha Kitt; "Amateur," Aimee Mann

As a reminder, here's the address so you can send me music too:

Alison's Birthday Music

c/o Oliver's Twist

6822 Greenwood Avenue

Seattle WA 98103

Birthday Music #2: Jon

Name: Jon

Girls Rock Camp Donation Tally: $10

Relationship: Jon and I worked together at DDB. Now we play Words with Friends on a nearly daily basis. I count on it.

How Did We Meet: We met at DDB. My first significant memory of Jon was that he sent an email to me involving a case of beer, high school friends and Elvis Costello that would have caused the HR police at my last agency to escort him out of the building, but which made it clear that things were a little different at DDB.

Something about Jon: Jon tweets every two months, but they're good. And he is a great hugger; sincere without being creepy.

Jon's Playlist: Lots of smart, witty boys (like Jon) singing about love and disappointment, with a tinge of hope. Just a tinge.

Delivery: Jon mailed a CD to Oliver's Twist. The CD is titled "Songs to Face Your…" I can't read Jon's handwriting, so I'm not sure what it is he wants me to face. I don't feel like it, whatever it is.

(Update: Jon has informed me the title is "Songs to Fill Your Drink," thereby allowing me to continue drinking and not face things. Thank you, Jon.)

Favorite (Nostalgic) Track: "A Perfect Sonnet," Bright Eyes

Favorite (New to Me) Track(s): "I Can't Make You Love Me," Bon Iver; "Confetti," Frightened Rabbit

As a reminder, here's the address so you can send me music too:

Alison's Birthday Music

c/o Oliver's Twist

6822 Greenwood Avenue

Seattle WA 98103

Birthday Music #1: Mara

A week or so ago I asked people to send me music for my birthday with the promise that every playlist/CD I received (by mail) would equal a $5 donation from me to Girls Rock Camp. I'm sharing the playlists I've received to say thank you to those who have sent them and to encourage others to do so as well.

Yeah, I'm greedy like that.

You've got two weeks! Hurry!

Name: Mara

Girls Rock Camp Donation Tally: $5

Relationship: Mara is on the team at Aggregate, the creative strategy group I started in October. She's also one of my good friends in Seattle.

How Did We Meet: We met at The Dismemberment Plan show on March 12, 2011 in Seattle. (We're both friends with the band.) Mara did not put a The Dismemberment Plan song on the CD she gave me. I forgive her.

Something about Mara: She let me borrow her husband one night because I didn't want to go see Dinosaur Jr. alone. She's good like that.

Mara's Playlist: An odd (GOOD odd) mix of chick music and hip hop, just like Mara.

Delivery: Mara dropped the music off at Oliver's Twist in person. In a bag. With a Happy Birthday paper cup inside.

Favorite (Nostalgic) Track: "Eye Know," De la Soul

Favorite (New to Me) Track(s): "Dark Come Soon," Tegan and Sara, "North by Northwest," Blue Scholars OR "Show Me," Mint Royale

As a reminder, here's the address:

Alison's Birthday Music

c/o Oliver's Twist

6822 Greenwood Avenue

Seattle WA 98103

Filling My Day (Month) with Music

I have a request to make. I want something from you.

(I'll be honest; I find this to be a little awkward.)

I love music; it is the one thing upon which I can rely to lift my spirits. If I'm lying on the floor in a pool of my own tears, turn on a song and I'll at least be able to remember to wipe the snot from my face. If I'm already feeling pretty damn good, turn on a song — the right song — and the joy can be difficult to contain.

(Cue Rufus.)

Sunday, February 12, is my birthday. I want to fill it — and this month — with music.

(AKA, I want to fill it with joy.)

So, this is what I am asking of you. I want you — yes, you — to send me music.

In the mail. In an envelope.

A CD.

A mix of songs you think I might like. A mix of songs YOU like. A song you created. A song someone you love created. A playlist you already created; something new in response to this request. It can be one song, it can be many.

In exchange for every CD I receive before the end of February, I am going to make a $5 donation to Girls Rock Camp. Because I want you to know I am grateful, because, yeah, I feel weird asking you for something, and because I want other girls to feel the joy I feel from music.

And I'll be posting here — and sharing on Twitter — to let others know about the music I receive and the people who were kind enough to send it. So, if you want a shout out, include your Twitter name if you have one. If you don't want a shout out, you can tell me that too.

My lovely friends at Oliver's Twist in Seattle (Sarah, to be exact) — my favorite bar in Seattle and where you can often find me seated in the corner — have said I can have the CDs sent there because, well, sometimes it's not a good idea to put your home address on the Internet. If you're in Seattle, on a regular basis or because the gods have smiled on you and transported you here for a short time, visit them. Give them your money; they will give you a tasty cocktail (and play good music as well.)

Here's the address:

Alison's Birthday Music

c/o Oliver's Twist

6822 Greenwood Avenue

Seattle WA 98103

Happy music/joy making.

Thank you. Sincerely.

ta. da.

the moral of the story

Is that someone thought I had the capacity for greatness and I just won't let him down until I have run out of my ways to get myself there.

on the lookout for signs

stay tuned

After three and a half years, I made the decision to leave my job. It's been a long time coming and there is a back story that there's really only one other person who will ever understand completely, but — in the middle of a horrendous economy — I am going to do my own thing. I'm going to work with the best creatives and strategists I have had the opportunity to work with during my 15 year career to develop creative solutions that bring people together to create social and policy change.

(More on that later.)

I keep saying that I have never felt this unsure of the future before in my life, but I think it's more that I presumed at this stage in my life I would be a little more confident about the path. It's like thinking, when you are 14, that you'll feel like a "grown up" when you're 30: a big ol' lie.

Right now, I'm fighting the urge to take a six month hiatus, get in my car and go for a drive across the country spending time with people I love, asking them why the hell they think I was put on this earth and if they think I could pull off that conflict zone photojournalist gig I have always dreamed of.

Last night I made a spreadsheet of the 52 places (in the order in which I would visit them) I wanted to go to on that 6 month trek.

Stay tuned.

a reminder

Veronica is finding her voice and reminding me to use mine.

in which I discuss something that makes me feel less than sane

I shall now attempt to write a post in which I discuss something that makes me feel less than sane without leaving you with the impression that I am not less than sane.

Already on shaky ground, aren't I?

I have this thing; it's an obsession really. I got it in my head months ago that I rarely have really good conversations with anyone. By "really good" I don't mean smart or funny or whatever. I mean conversations in which I feel like I am completely immersed — and they are as well — like we decided to hold hands and jump off a cliff together, confident that where we landed would be cool and refreshing like a lake in the middle of July or that it would be soft and pliant and we'd inevitably laugh as we bounced back up in the air — still holding hands — our insides jostled and silly.

Immersed.

Trustful?

I hear everything you're saying; you hear everything I'm saying. No distractions from the second track of thought running along in parallel; the track of doubt that — in addition to pulling my attention away — is populated by what I'm really thinking, including all the things I want to say but won't or want to ask but won't. And no distractions from wondering what's playing on your second track.

I don't have those conversations.

I don't hear everything you're saying and I don't say everything I want to say.

Ever.

And it's making me lonely.

That is all.

beautiful

I cried like a baby. This is a beautiful testament to survival and to family. Goofy and geeky and filled with love.

“If someone would tell me here, then, that I would come sixty something three years later with my grandchildren, so I’d say ‘What you talking about?’ So here you are. This is really a historical moment.”

not "the" story, MY story

I've received a few emails lately from people interested in speaking to me about my pen pal relationship with John Hughes, i.e., producers, filmmakers. It's been a while since I've received messages like these; most of them came in the days and weeks immediately following John's death — which is now almost a year ago.

The messages from John Hughes fans have never stopped.

Like those initial messages, I am flattered by the interest from those who want to tell the story, but I already made the decision that I was not going to follow that path for a number of reasons — some of which have to do with John, some of which have to do with me.

The majority of the messages are very kind and from people who seem to be fans of John themselves. The odd thing is that there have also been messages that suggest that the story will be told whether or not I want it to be.

Wait, let me rewrite that — not "the" story, MY story.

And, apparently, that's something that's totally cool. Okay, not cool necessarily, but kosher, as in I have nothing to say about it.

At least that's what Tod Goldberg told me earlier today. (I asked Tod if I could use screen shots of his tweets in this post and he said yes. I'll remove them if he asks me to do so.)

Read from bottom to top. Sorry, I'm too lazy to grab each tweet separately.

By the way, don't shoot the messenger; Tod's not saying it's right, he's just saying it is.

Does anyone else think this is bullshit or am I just ridiculously naive?

looking for a reason to be somewhere

I graduated college just before I turned 24 (I had dropped out for a year and a half) and, after a month or so of lingering, I moved to London with a work visa I had secured from the British Universities North America Club (BUNAC).

I had a rather vague plan to continue to pursue some of the thinking I had done in my senior thesis. (Div III for those of you fortunate enough to orbit or even enter the Hampshire College universe). My work had been centered on media literacy education and, as I was happy to tell you in those days, England was light years ahead of the U.S. on the topic. Hampshire had given me a small grant — a Threshold grant — that was intended to support students to do just that — continue the work they had done in school.

But, really? I think I just wanted a plan, a reason to go somewhere and, ultimately, to be somewhere. And so I lied to my parents (who wouldn't have stood in the way if they knew the truth, but I lied to them compulsively anyway) and concocted a tale that involved already having a place to live when I got there.

I didn't, of course. I barely knew where I was going to lug my suitcase when I got off the plane. But I found an apartment — on Mordaunt Street in Brixton — and a job — near Liverpool Street Station — within a couple of weeks of being there and everything worked out just fine.

Why did I tell you that? Why did I think to post that this morning?

Because, this morning and for some time now, I have been desperately looking for that thing that was inside me that enabled me to do what I did. I wanted a reason to go somewhere, a reason to be somewhere and I found it.

I need to find it again.

watching a classic tragedy unfold

From J.D. Salinger's obituary in Friday's Washington Post:

He was unable or unwilling to sustain close personal relations with anyone, she (his daughter) said. "His search…led him increasingly to relations in two dimensions: with his fictional Glass family, or with living 'pen pals' he met in letters, which lasted until meeting in person, when the three-dimensional, flesh-and-blood presence of them would, with the inevitability of watching a classic tragedy unfold, invariably sow the seeds of the relationships undoing."

i'm back

I was looking through posts last night in an attempt to gather information that a friend had requested about "favorite" movements. (I sent her details about Etsy and the DIY community, the Green My Apple campaign and Dallas Clayton, whom I referred to as a "burgeoning movement" in my idealistic and hopeful eyes.)

And then this morning, when I should have been getting ready for work, I discovered Topsy.com and, for the first time, started browsing the tweets that had been written in response to "Sincerely, John Hughes."

And I remembered — for the 1,784th time — that I really love blogging because it is a chance to write — about what I want to write about. It is my space to do the thing that makes me happiest in this world.

I'm back. I apologize for my absence. I love you, Twitter, but it just ain't the same.

having an impact

I've become increasingly aware of people who are doing what they want to do with their lives and having a positive impact on others' in the process.

I wrote recently about Dallas Clayton, who wrote a beautiful book for his son to inspire a little boy to think big and, when he couldn't find a publisher, published it himself and is now giving copies away.

I watched Jonathan Demme's Jimmy Carter: Man from Plains this morning, about a former president who is willing to ruffle feathers and speak his mind because he lives according to a code of justice and has no other option.

I have, for years, admired my friend David Wilson, for developing the truly inspiring True False Film Fest in his hometown of Columbia, Missouri, capturing the attention of filmmakers from around the world for his love letter to documentary films, his beloved hometown and his family.

I have obviously written about my childhood mentor, John Hughes, who rejected a world that nevertheless embraced him and encouraged me and instilled in me a desire to follow my own passions.

Then there's my friend, Christie Herring, a documentary filmmaker who is working hard to complete her film, The Campaign, about the campaign to defeat California's Prop 8, which, one year ago, overturned the right to marriage for same sex couples.



There was a great post about Christie and The Campaign this morning in The Huffington Post, with Georgianne Nienaber relating today's fight for equal rights for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people with her own experiences in the gay rights movement of the mid-1970's. It was a lovely reminder to me that, once again — people can do what they want with their lives and have a positive impact on others' lives in the process.

It sounds so stupidly obvious, doesn't it? But how many of us are really doing it?

I don't think I can say I am.

another chapter for the book

In college, my friend Andrew and I would rationalize bad behavior (on our part) or painful experiences with the comment that it was "another chapter for the book." In essence, we believed these things made us more interesting, gave us more fodder to tell tales.

It's a notion I still believe in.

I am a more interesting and thoughtful person because of the obstacles that I have had to overcome. I have better stories to tell because of those obstacles and due to risks I have taken.

They are another chapter for the book.

Unfortunately, it won't be THAT book. I am not writing the book about my pen pal relationship with John Hughes — for reasons I'd rather not discuss, but which sadden me.

Another chapter for the book?

Not this time.

dream big

Dallas Clayton is the guy behind Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are-related blog, We Love You So. He's also the author of An Awesome World, which is why I am completely enamored of him.

Dallas Clayton is awesome.

It's not just that Dallas wrote a book for his five-year old son that is completely inspiring. He's also traveling all over and reading the book to kids and giving away a copy of the book for every one he sells.

And the message of Dallas's book, the message that every kid should hear — whether you're five or 35 or even 75 — is to DREAM BIG.

You can read the whole book online, but when you get to the end, you're still likely to want to buy a copy for yourself to remind yourself to dream of "rocket-powered unicorns" or to inspire someone else whom you hope will dream of "dancing wild animals with diamond-coated wings." Or maybe you just want to buy a book so Dallas can give someone else a copy to urge them to "dream a dream as big as big could ever dream to be."

The book proposal is on hold. I'm dreaming big, but I think I'm also dreaming different.

mahatma gandhi never looked cuter

"School children dressed as Mahatma Gandhi take part in a cultural programme on the eve of Gandhi's 140th birth anniversary, in the central Indian city of Bhopal October 1, 2009."

This picture makes me smile.

The kid, second from the left, looks like he may not embrace non-violence as much as the man he honors would have liked.

someone, can you hear me?

I finished the first draft of the book proposal about five minutes ago and sent it to my agent. It's far from perfect, but I got to the point where it just needed to be DONE. The purpose, at this stage, is to get a publisher to commit to it, not to win a Nobel Prize.

Concerns? It sounds more depressing, or at least melodramatic, than I intend it to be. I literally wanted to write across the top of it, "THIS WILL BE FUNNY. YOU WILL LAUGH. I PROMISE."

But I refrained. Hopefully my sense of humor will come through.

(Please, let it come through.)

I still need to hear from someone to know that it's okay.

(Someone, can you hear me?)

And then, if it goes forward, I'll have to deal with the ramifications of being honest about life on the Byrne Fields ranch.

Crap.

So, I'm still trying to decide which John Hughes I most closely resembled as a teenager (in terms of character, not looks — or even gender.)

Here are the contenders:

Alison Reynolds (The Breakfast Club)

Duckie Dale (Pretty in Pink)

Samantha Baker (Sixteen Candles)

Andie Walsh (Pretty in Pink)

Watts (Some Kind of Wonderful)

I think Alison might be in the lead…