I'm sitting in my office wearing a cashmere sweater with fingerless gloves and a hooded jacket. I'm wearing a wool monkey hat, and uggs. It's 61 degrees. Christmas weather. I think I am officially a southern Californian. It sprinkled this morning. More of mist really, and the sky is grey, and from the moment I woke up, I've had the strong urge to drink coffee and write beat poetry, whilst contemplating world events, and suicide. So THIS is why people in other places are so creative and hard working! The weather is terrible! Or at least not perfect. Perfect weather makes it very difficult to take things seriously.
just any old January day in Southern California
Yesterday Nipper took Jack to a carnival at the local public school. I knew I was going to have three solid hours to edit my video and get stuff done. But the sun was shining, and everything I don't know about using final cut pro, combined with the beautiful weather, sent me into a minor tremor. I looked at the monitor, checked my iphone, tried to stream a movie on netflix on the laptop, while editing on the imac, checked my phone again, updated facebook 4 times, and then when it really felt like I was about to have a seizure, I got up and walked away.
as cold as it's gonna get
Emerging into the sunshine, my blood pressure immediately dropping, my heart rate slowing, my eyes finally able to lock and focus, I decided that cleaning cat poop off the patio was a much more pleasant way to spend my afternoon that editing. THAT'S how beautiful the weather is. I would rather stand in my yard scooping cat turds out of the decomposed granite than sit in my pretty pink office and work on my own music video. It's a miracle ANYTHING ever gets made around here, much less documented on this blog. I'm about 10 projects behind. So many things to write about, but I can't get myself to come inside, sit down, and write. It's really really nice here!
Our jacaranda is like something the lorax made up
If I'm ever to be a serious anything, we are just going to have to move. Between the sunshine, and the jacaranda blossoms, and the night jasmine, this place is like eden, and anyone who says different has never lived in Michigan in February. Longest month of your life.