New Floor

As I'm sitting upstairs I can hear pounding, grinding, and sawing coming from below me. Honestly it's gotten so that I don't even notice the noise. I'm sitting upstairs writing, emailing, and more often checking Twitter. But below me are two men installing our new floor.

We've lived in our townhouse for over 9 years now. And during that time I've been talking about replacing the living room floor for about 6 of them. I think the carpet is original which would make it nearly 20 years old. And being off-white means that it looked bad from the beginning. So when we had to redo the floor in the kitchen a couple years ago, I knew it was time to start thinking about the living room.

The floor in the kitchen which will now be in the rest of the downstairs. 

We're getting the same laminate as we have in the kitchen and I really think it's going to open up the room. Even just moving the furniture and all the other stuff out has made the room seem huge. I never realized we had that much space. It just means that I'll need to get rid of things rather than bring them back down.

I haven't been down there to peek yet. I'm trying to give the guys as much as privacy as possible. After all they're the ones doing the work. But I'm pretty excited. Goodbye hideous carpet. Goodbye vacuuming downstairs. Yay new floor!

{Edit: 10 minutes after I posted this they called me to tell me that they had finished with the main work. Here's what the floor looks like. The room is huge. It echos. I love it!}

Insomnia, Again

My mother tells me that I was one of her best sleepers when I was a child. I slept heavily through the night for years, barely waking for anything. All the way through college, very little disturbed my slumber. Even the dorms weren't loud enough to wake me up. I would drop into bed around midnight and sleep straight through until morning.

Flash forward 15 years and I'm dealing with insomnia, again. Ever since I left college I've become a light sleeper. I wake at the tiniest noise. And often can't get back to sleep. Several years ago I went through a seven month period where I couldn't fall asleep. I was lucky if I got 4 to 5 hours a night. Now I can fall asleep, but I can't stay asleep. I'm waking up four or five times a night and struggle to get back to sleep each time. I stare at the ceiling or lay there listening to Jess sleep. I've started sleeping with earplugs in again but I think they're more of a problem right now than a solution.

The problem seems to be my anxiety. I've had social anxiety for most of my life but in the last decade it has started amplifying, leading to anxiety attacks and insomnia. It's confrontation that's the issue. My previous bout of insomnia stemmed from a neighbor who would have wild parties. The few times I went to tell him to keep it down didn't go well. Nothing physical or really all that mean, but it set me back. So I would lie awake on perfectly quiet nights waiting for the noise. This current bout is about a new neighbor. We share a wall and he's a true night owl. One night I woke at 4 a.m. to find him blasting music. Jess went over to ask him to turn it down and he did. He's been quiet and respectful every since. We've hardly heard a peep from him. But I can't seem to shake the anxiety. I lie awake listening for the music. And I can't sleep.

I'm writing this because I find that talking about my anxiety seems to make it less intense. I often journal about my anxiety attacks but I never really talk about them here. I know that I'm not alone with anxiety issues and certainly not alone in my fear of confrontation. It's right up there with fear of death and public speaking. Currently I avoid it at all costs. But I'm beginning to wonder if that is hurting me more than anything. Would I be less anxious if I felt that I was more in control? Would I still not be sleeping if I felt I could tell this kid what I thought? I know that it's all a matter of facing my fears, but that's hard to remember at 3 a.m., a time that's never been comfortable for this early bird. So I'll ask. Have you ever faced insomnia? What worked? What didn't?

The Comics Issue

I got home from the library at 2 this afternoon with a stack of nine books. Two were easy reader children's book, one was an overview of a filmmaker's career, one was a creativity guide, and the rest were graphic novels. I read a lot of graphic novels. I love the blending of words and images. I love the creative stories that seem to only flow out of the blending of art and text. And I love the art. But a lot of people will tell me that graphic novels, comics, or even comic strips aren't real reading. There continues to be a stigma attached to this kind of reading. I couldn't disagree more.

I grew up on a rich diet of books which included picture books, chapter books, comics, and comic strips. Some of the earliest adventure stories that I fell in love with were Uncle Scrooge comics. Each thin paper comic contained an adventure that often spanned the globe. I would get sucked into the stories. I can still picture Uncle Scrooge in his adventure for the golden fleece or making his way into the valley of Tralla La (the Carl Banks version of Shangri-La). I had no idea at the time that I was learning bits of greek myth or about mythical utopias. I just knew that I loved the stories.

As I got older I fell in love with comic strips. I read Calvin and Hobbes, Wizard of Id, The Far Side, and Bloom County to name a few. There were other comics, ones that weren't in our local paper, that found their way into the house in the form of collections. My mother supported us kids as readers, in whatever form that reading took. So we had hundreds of these comic collections mixed with our paper comics that included Archie's, Mickey Mouse, and Casper. We were allowed to read anything we wanted as long as it was kid friendly. And we did read. I can't remember a moment of my childhood where I wasn't reading or thinking about books to read. We were blessed.

I worry about kids now whose parents keep them from comics. Parent who say that graphic novels and comics aren't real reading. As if reading a chapter book was the only form of book for kids once they can read on their own. Like the mistaken idea of taking picture books away from kids after they can read on their own, I think that this does more to keep children from becoming readers. Much like picture books, I think graphic novels are essential reading for kids who are learning to love words and stories. A story can be told in many ways. Like a great film, a graphic novel uses both dialogue and image to tell a more complete story. A child who is encouraged to read whatever they would like (within reason) will become a reader. They will read for pleasure. They will read to learn.

Now I'm not saying to never pay attention to what your children are reading. I've read graphic novels that were disturbing for me as an adult. I've also read word only novels that have done the same thing. My mother was careful to screen what we read for adult content. Things we read that were more advanced were discussed. But we were never told that we couldn't read some type of format. When I went back to reading picture books my mother gave me a stack of books from our old library. I have dibs on some of our comic book collections. I read constantly as a child, in all formats. And I don't know if I would have been as large a reader if I hadn't been granted so much freedom in deciding what I wanted to read. I know that I would not be the reader I am today without that combination of art and words.

Gen Con: Hobbies and Crafts

I've been meaning to write this post for two weeks now. Of course it would help if I ever had a night at home before 9 o'clock. I'm in the middle of a busy stretch. But now I have a couple minutes. And I'm going to get this out so I can move on to other things. After all, it's been almost a month since Gen Con.

Every time we go to Gen Con, I come back inspired from all the creativity and energy I see around me. Artist's Alley is filled with incredibly talented artists and I always seem to pick up a print or two. I have more art than I have walls now. I am always in awe of how creative people are. I'll post later about the paper sculpture I purchased which hangs in my car. It's my favorite thing from the whole con.

But this year I was drawn to some of the great sewing pieces I saw and the incredibly detailed miniatures that were on display. I took more pictures of the miniatures than I should have. But I was just struck each time by how amazing they were. Miniature painting is something that I've been thinking of getting into. I picked up a starter kit last year, only to find that all the paint was too dry to work with. I would like to start painting, although looking at the ones on display is both inspiring, and a bit daunting.

Seriously, look at that detail

I loved the personality on this piece. Love this little guy. 

And of course, the dragon. Fantastic!

The sewing I took pictures of was also a bit of wishful thinking. I'm still terrified of the sewing machine. I know it will try to eat my fingers. Jess tells me that there's nothing to it, but I think she's lying. Still clearly there are plenty of talented people out there.

I think this was all hand-stitched, so there is hope. But isn't it incredible? Love me some Cthulhu.

I stopped this woman as she was eating lunch. I felt bad but I loved the skirt so much. The back was also covered with emblems. Such a simple design but such fun. I had to stop her and compliment her on the skirt. She was very gracious about it.

What I love about Gen Con is that it's not just one type of art. There are the professional artists certainly. And the creative cosplayers which continue to stun me. And the hobby enthusiasts who make and create. But there's also the creative art that just appears at the show.

The robots above were built out of Legos for a giant game of RoboRally. Some very familiar faces to make the game even more interesting.

And this octopus was created on site, out of cards, by someone who just happened to like building card structures. By the end of the weekend he was destroyed for charity. Temporary art. No wonder I come home inspired.

Gen Con...The Costume Edition

Mystery Men!

I've been back for almost a week and this is the first chance I've had to download photos and decompress from this year's Gen Con. For those of you who aren't familiar, each year Jess and I travel with my family to a gaming convention in Indianapolis. We play games, we play-test games, we talk about games, we eat lots of fantastic dinners while talking about games, and we look at costumes. Sometimes gaming costumes, most times not.

Don't know the character (anyone know?) but love the costume

We had a blast as usual. I always eat too much and don't play enough and this year was no exception. But we did end up coming home with three new games to try, some books from our favorite webcomics, and some cool steampunk accessories. I also found a writing quill which I think will get a lot of use for drawing. I came home with a lot of energy for creating.

These guys were huge hits of the convention. Love the Lego hands on Batman

We didn't spend quite as much time with family this trip and I feel a little sad about that. While looking through my pictures from the trip there are only two with family members in them. The evenings we spent with everyone but most of the mornings and early afternoons were just Jess and I. Not that I didn't have fun, but I would have loved to play more with everyone. I've really missed gaming lately. Jess and I have decided that we'll pick one day per weekend to play one of the games we have. Otherwise they just sit and gather dust and we only play games when we're with other people.

With Starfleet Airship Division. After I took his picture he gave me some Starfleet cash

As you can see, the costumes were just as good as usual this year. Each time I go I am blown away by people's creativity. And I come back wanting to make a costume for the next time we get to a convention. I had tossed around the idea of a simple Portal costume but never ended up making it. Perhaps next year. My next post will look at some of the crafts and hobbies that I was blown away by. I need to do more creating.

My mother, finds Waldo (my father). His costume was a huge hit. People even chased him down the street for photos. 

The man in the suit and tie is supposed to be Tony Stark. He had the arc reactor in his chest (although the blue glow didn't come out in this photo) and would toss out cheesy lines as each person took a picture. He was hilarious. 

R2D2

In a couple weeks, Jess and I are heading to a big time geek convention. I'll be donning my Star Trek uniform, wearing my cool RPG t-shirts, and carrying all my necessities in this adorable bag.

We found this at Target two weeks ago and we both instantly fell in love. And we weren't the only ones. Before we even got the bag out of the store we had a woman stop us to see where we'd found it. The woman at the checkout smiled and chuckled when she rang it up. We've had a couple of friends over in the last two weeks and all of them have mentioned it. It's the perfect bag for a geek convention.

For one moment I debated buying it. And then Jess pressed the button. I instantly put it in the cart. Love!

Transitions

In a way this post is four and a half years in the making. Four and a half years ago my life changed in an unforeseeable way and I've been keeping it a secret. That's a long time to keep a secret, but it wasn't my secret to tell. I've kept quiet from family, friends, and the world. But now, finally I'm able to talk about what has been going on in my life these last couple years.

Right about the time that I broke my ankle, Jeff and I had a discussion where he came out to me as transgender. At the time I didn't know the word and neither did he. What he told me is that his outside gender didn't match his inside gender. He didn't feel comfortable in his own skin. It was through the research we've done in these last three years that we heard the term transgender. The formal definition is, "a term for people whose gender identity, expression, or behavior is different from those typically associated with their assigned sex at birth".

That first discussion led to others. Many others. We talked for years about what this meant. In the beginning Jeff hoped that he would be okay just using feminine expressions to make himself feel better. But we both quickly realized that it wasn't enough. We started talking about what would happen IF he transitioned. Then it became WHEN.

In January we decided that there was no reason for him to be miserable any longer. We decided that Jeff would become Jess in August. Three weeks from now I'll be married to a woman. Not legally a woman but a woman in appearance and hopefully as perceived by the rest of the world. I'm starting to change my "he" to "she". I'm trying to get used to the new name. People who spend time with us regularly have been told. The support has been tremendous, both for her and me. Her office is making adjustments and will handle everything there. Everyone has told me that it will take time for their impressions to change, but that they will continue to spend time with us. It's been an eye opening couple of months.

And an eye opening couple of years. I've started reading books on gender expression and the very big difference between sex and gender. I've had more discussion with Jess then we've ever had. There have been tears and there have been laughs. Jess seems happier than she's been in many years. And I'm happy about that. For 15 years I've loved him. And now I think I'm going to love her just as much. It will be a transition. For both of us. But we're prepared to see this through together, as friends and companions. And still married.

Zooland

When I was young my mother did much of our clothing shopping at a tiny chain store called Richman Gordman. The store was only located in Nebraska, Iowa, and Kansas and had very few locations. But one of those locations was about a mile away from my parents. And like a Kohl's or a Gordman's (the current iteration of Richman Gordman), the store carried a variety of everything. There was clothes and shoes and housewares. But it was even better than Kohl or Gordman's because, Richman Gordman had Zooland.

We kids loved to go shopping because of four fiberglass animals that were set up in one of the back corners of the store. There was a big blue and red elephant that was a slide, a green hippo that was a tunnel, a yellow kangaroo that had both a balance beam and a climbing area, and an orange camel that was a fort. My favorite was always the elephant. In between his front feet was a set of stairs that spiraled up to his head. And the slide was his trunk. I loved going down the slide but I really loved the red twisting stairs inside. The play area was a dream play area. These four animals seemed huge and magical (at least to my tiny self). I can still remember the feeling of the painted fiberglass of the elephant's trunk. To say that I loved this playland was an understatement.

Of course as I got older, I got embarrassed by the play area and stopped going there to play. And then I got too big to climb on them. I think I was 13 or 14 when the store near us closed, but I'd stopped playing in Zooland a long time before. In my youth I didn't even think of where the animals would be shipped to. I know now that many of them went to private buyers. Just recently I started to get nostalgic for some of the things of my childhood and I went looking for pictures of the animals. But I found even more than that. I found out that Omaha Children's Museum not only managed to find some of them, but have refurbished them as playground equipment in the museum. They have all four animals and a whole new generation of children are playing on them. I think I need to take a road trip. If you're in Omaha and stumble into the Children's Museum to find a woman weeping next to a blue and red elephant, don't be alarmed. It's just me, reliving my childhood.

Brazil

This afternoon* I started humming along to Aquarela do Brasil. It's a catchy upbeat song, but I only really hum it when I'm frustrated at work. I blame Terry Gilliam. Well blame's the wrong word. I'm a Terry Gilliam fan but one of his movies ruined me. When I say that Brazil by Terry Gilliam is one of my favorite movies, it should tell you something about me. At least if you've seen the film. I'm actually surprised that I haven't mentioned it here before. It's such an odd film.

Brazil is a dystopian satire starring Jonathan Pryce as a mild mannered businessman in a horrible bureaucracy that becomes obsessed with a woman from his dreams. He's investigating the death of a man at the government's hands after a technical mix-up when he runs into the exact woman. And suddenly he's involved with an air-conditioning terrorist, his dream woman, a sadistic friend who tortures people for a living, his plastic surgery obsessed mother, and a government that will control people however they can. Did I mention it's an odd film?

The movie was made in 1985 so don't go watching it expecting the visuals to be amazing. In fact some of the dream sequences make me cringe a little. But the world that Gilliam creates is what makes the film so incredible for me. The look of the stores and restaurants. The winding corridors of the bureaucracy where Pryce works. The tiny cars and the billboarded roads. It was the first time that I saw real true world-building. Gilliam creates a world that seems far fetched but it also seems real. And he uses that world to paint some interesting pictures of our world.

I've always loved dystopian stories. I think I'm drawn to the darkness of them and the dreams of escape that the story normally tells. The government in this film is not some faceless organization like in many other dystopians. In this one, we see inside since Pryce's character works for the bureaucracy. And that makes it all the more creepy. Michael Palin manages to make torture seem both horrific and all in a days work, something that still stays with me.

I mentioned it was dark right?

This is a thinking man's acid trip of a movie. Brazil is one of those movies you have to watch to understand. It's quirky, disturbing, and very silly. Just what you expect from Gilliam. And it's still one of my favorite movies.

*{by this afternoon I mean a week ago when I started this post}

Imagination Series

I might be late to the party, but I just stumbled upon a rather fantastic video series called The Imagination Series. I had been looking at the Webby 2014 winners and the series had won for Drama Series. The project, which was sponsored by Bombay Sapphire gin, asked filmmakers to take a very basic script (just dialogue really) and to create a film based on the script. The videos were judged and five were chosen as winners. The Webby website linked to Room 8, the third movie of the winners. I watched it and I was hooked.

I've seen each of the five winners now and I am floored by the creativity put into the films. Each film includes some sort of object that the characters debate about opening. The lines are the same. "Don't open that", "You might regret it", "I'll take that chance", and "Would you have believed me?" are some of the lines that get repeated through all of the videos. But that's where the similarities end. Two of the videos are magical realism, one is filmmatic, one is animated, and one is dark realism. And all of them are wonderful pieces of film. Very professional.

This was such a unique idea for me. Take one script, send it out, and see what comes back. I was impressed with the diversity and imagination behind each of the videos. And I guess that's the point. The winners are: Water Song, The Mrs., Room 8, Crab, Concrete  I've linked to each videos Vimeo page. I recommend watching all of them for comparison. Most are only 4 or 5 minutes. Room 8 was my favorite. A little bit dark and seriously cool. A wonderful idea and a great video series.

Why I Can't Have Nice Things

I am notoriously rough on my possessions. Clothes have to be able to survive both the washer and the dryer to live in my house. My shoes generally only last a year or two. I've dropped my phone three times now in the 6 months I've owned it. It's not that I mean to destroy things, I'm just clumsy and unthinking sometimes.

I've owned my beautiful Canon Elph camera for only about a year and a half. I've been careful with it. I've never dropped it. Tried to keep it clean and dry. I've even kept it out of my purse so it won't hit against my wallet. Seriously I've babied this thing. And...it's broken. I took it out to the lake a month and a half ago to take some early morning bird shots. I turned it on to have the lens instantly retract. Lens Error. I started it again...and again...and again. When I finally got the lens to stay out, the zoom won't work at all and all of the images are vignetted. I looked for camera repair places in town with no luck. And Canon will charge me $190 to send it in for them to fix. Sooo...

Meet my new camera. I've been chomping at the bit for over a month now to get a new camera. Going without has been hard. My phone just doesn't cut it. I've been reading reviews to find something in my price range. And I've been focusing on getting something that's a bit more rugged. Meet the blueberry. It's a Fujifilm FinePix XP70. It's waterproof to 33 feet, dustproof, freezeproof to 14 degrees F, and most importantly shockproof at 5 ft. Which means that I might have a chance of keeping it working for a couple of years. I played with it for a couple hours last night right after picking it up and I think I'm going to like it. The photo quality is very good, it's simple to use, I like the feel. The zoom isn't anywhere near as good as my previous. But it's a fine camera that going to be great to get outdoors with. I'll even take it snorkeling and diving with me. It isn't quite as amazing as my Elph was, but it might, just might be Catproof.

Distraction

Work is hard
Distractions are plentiful
And Time is short

Adam Hochschild

I was reading a really interesting New York Times article about education recently. I was half way through the article when I decided that I knew what it was saying and moved on to a different article. Again I read half of the next and moved on. The initials TL:DR popped into my head. And that's when I knew I had a problem.

I hate the initials TL:DR, which stand for Too Long, Didn't Read. I hate them because of what they say about our society, about our loss of concentration. I should be able to read a 2 page article without getting impatient. If I can't concentrate for more than 5 minutes, that scares me. I shouldn't have to have my information fed to me in less than 140 characters. Heck, I shouldn't have information fed to me at all. I should actively seek it.

About three years ago I noticed that I'm losing my ability to focus, both when reading and in life in general. I'm struggling more with concentration, a vital part of learning. I jump from thought to thought.  It's more obvious at work, if I'm not interested in a topic. I just can't bring myself to think in-depth about things. It started slow, barely noticeable. I would put my book down after twenty minutes. I would grumble as I went to the second page of an article. Now I get impatient with a YouTube video that lasts more than 7 minutes. None of this is good for me. I want to create things in my life. I want to study and learn. I have to have both time and focus to do those things. So I'm going to pare down, get rid of some of those distractions that keep me from focusing. First to go: social media.

I won't be shutting down my Facebook page, like Jeff did, but I won't really be spending much time there. I feel guilty for that. I know that there will be birthdays that I'll miss, and celebrations that I won't know about. I know that I'll miss updates from friends but so much of Facebook lately seems to be recycled shared posts. I'll still probably check once a week or so just to see what each of my friends is up to, but I won't be responding. And I'm sorry for that. I'm weaning myself off Twitter, something that is harder than I expected. I'm even staying away from news sources like Huffington Post and Buzzfeed. I want to refocus, and those sites aren't geared towards focus.

I don't want to lose contact with people so I'll be focusing more on email in the future. I'll still check personal messages on Facebook. I'll try to stay in touch with people. And I'll hopefully be blogging more. I want to focus on writing. I want to study more. I'm hoping that dropping some of the distractions from my life, will let me focus more on personal connections, not just liking something you've shared from another person's page. As the quote above says, distractions are plentiful and life is short. I'm going to see how I use my time as I strip out those distractions. I may just waste it, but I'll be doing it in hopefully more constructive ways.

Brady and Grant

A year or so ago I wrote a rather tragically maudlin post about passion and madness and showed a photograph of Charles Baudelaire that I'd always loved. You can find that post here. I was thinking about that photo again because I stumbled across another photo that I've loved all my life and can't tell you why.

I'm reading a book about writers and artists and dignitaries crossing paths in the past. The friendships that developed from a chance meeting or a business arrangement between two famous authors that is rarely known. An 8 year old Henry James sits for a portrait by Mathew Brady because his father wants a photo. A literary critic happens upon a lunch with Walt Whitman. And the current story is about the collaboration between Mathew Brady (photographer extraordinare) and Ulysses S. Grant. The first photo show is the one below. One of General Grant at his base camp.

From the Britannica 

I saw this image decades ago and instantly became fascinated with Grant. Perhaps it is Brady's skill as a photographer that made me want to know more about this man. Perhaps it's the dark but bold look on Grant's face. I've seen other pictures of the General, many of them by Brady, but none affect me the way this one does. I remember clearly looking at the picture and instantly having a gut reaction of fascination. I have a copy of Grant's autobiography waiting to be read. He was a deeply flawed individual but those often make the most interesting people. I've read accounts of his life but I've never read his own words. I know that he died days after finishing it. When his name was mentioned as a book lover my ears perked up. But before I knew all that, I was still fascinated. That one image was enough to make want to know more about a very unusual man. That says a lot about a photograph.

Image Dysfunction

I was bored one afternoon and decided to use Google Images to see what came up for my name. If you haven't googled yourself you should do that regularly to see what others see when they look for you. But this time I didn't use my whole name, just my first name (Catherine). And the results that came up were interesting. Did you know that there is an erotic video game out there called Catherine? Neither did I, until now. Most of the images that came up for my name were scantily clad women (and Catherine Zeta Jones who was sometimes scantily clad).

So then I typed in a different women's name, just to see what would come up in Google Images. The results were a little less scantily clad but I didn't have to scroll very far to find a mostly naked woman. And then another. And then another. So I tried a different woman's name. Same results. I went through friend's first names and family first names and always came up with similar results. There were some names that had fewer scantily clad images but ALL the women's names I typed in brought up at least a couple nearly nude images. ALL of them. Every single one.

So I played the same game with men's first names. And that's when I got disturbed. There were almost no scantily clad images of men on Google Images. There were a few shirtless pictures but that was it. No matter how far I scrolled down on each one I could only find one or so nude image or less. And I started thinking about what this says about society. For the record I don't think this is an issue with Google Images. I don't think that this is an algorithm gone bad. I think this is reflection of what type of images get posted online. And I worry about what that says about what society feels a woman offers in worth.

I would say that a majority of the images for men's first names were headshots, often in business or professional attire. While there were plenty of images of actors and models, almost all of them were dressed. And the images tended to focus on their shoulders and above. In contrast, most of the women's images were full body shots. Often in less clothes than more. The ones that were fully dressed were often showing good amounts of cleavage. But it was the full body portion that bothered me. Apparently we aren't all that interested in what women have above the shoulders.

Now I should say that I have no issue with women (or men) showing off their bodies. I like erotic images and porn as much as the next person. What got me thinking about this post was wondering what statement this says to the younger generations about how we portray women. If they go to look up their first name and all they find are images of scantily clad women, what lesson does that teach? Do they see that they can be a doctor, or a writer, or a soldier. Or do they see that women who take off their clothes get attention.

Perhaps I'm thinking too much about this. But it made me angry. I want to see women who are valued for their intelligence and creativity and professionalism. I want to see women who show grace and kindness and drive. And at work I see these people. Out in society I see these people. But when I look online, all I see are scantily clad women. No matter how innocent the search.

If you try this experiment let me know what you find. Go to Google Images and type any women's first name in and scroll down to see what type of images you get. Do the same with men's first names. Let me know what you find. I hope my searches aren't indicative of anything. I hope I'm wrong. But I tried a lot of names. And I can see patterns. It's a bit disturbing.

Memories of TV Shows Past

I woke up on Sunday with an image in my head. A cartoonist and her colorist sit at drafting tables across from each other. I knew it was from a TV show. One I had loved many years ago but that was all I could remember of it. Oh and I know the actress was named Lea or Leah. In this modern age of Google and IMDB it didn't take me long to figure out which show I was thinking of. The actress was Lea Thompson, and the show was Caroline in the City.

The show aired from 1995-1999 and I think I watched every episode. I was enamored with the lifestyle of Caroline Duffy, Lea Thompson's character. To me she lived a perfect life, drawing comics during the day while wisecracking with her hilarious next door neighbor Annie, her colorist Richard, and her on-again, off-again boyfriend Del. I loved her apartment, an impossibly spacious place for New York City. And I quickly developed a crush on Malcolm Gets, who played Richard, the angst-ridden and sarcastic but cultured colorist who underneath had a heart of gold. Richard was just about the perfect man for the person I was at that time.

And apparently still is. I watched a couple of episodes over the last two days and I quickly found myself back in the world. Not only did I remember the characters, I remembered the episodes. Almost 15 years after the show ended, I can still remember the episodes. I must have watched the show over and over. And I'm still in love with Richard. There's just something about his dry wit, his slightly patronizing tone, his angst, and of course that soft heart, that still speaks to me. Add in the fact that he's an artist, and I'm done for.

But the whole show reminded me of who I was at the time. I had dreams of being a writer, living in the big city, trading barbs and sweet jabs with neighbors and coworkers while getting paid to write books. I wanted that spacious apartment. I can see clearly why the show appealed to me. And still does appeal to me. It may be a blast from the past but it stirs up hopes and dreams that still haven't gone away. All from one TV show. Now back to binge watching episodes.