Marie Javins's Blog, page 64
September 12, 2018
August 8, 2018
SDCC Souvenir
Here is my favorite new shirt. I bought it at San Diego Comic Con.
August 6, 2018
No Thyme
Do birds eat thyme? Something has been eating the thyme I planted on my balcony.
August 5, 2018
Careless About Carless
When I first moved to Los Angeles, I didn't have time to drive my car across the country, so I left Henry the 1990 Ford Taurus in my garage in Jersey City. I made vague plans to go get him another time. I knew my thousand-dollar car—a former Glendale fleet car acquired in 2002 in Torrance and driven with Turbo the Aussie from LA to NYC over four months—might not make it, but I hoped to get him home to the West Coast before putting him out to pasture.
But then I didn't have time for a while, so my car sat there, used on long weekends when I'd go home. Meanwhile, in LA, I went from renting a car to taking the metro. The metro doesn't go to my office, but the bus does, so after a bit of frustration, I downloaded an app showing me exactly when the bus would arrive. Eventually, before I moved to Burbank, I rented an apartment in Hollywood, where I could catch a bus to work, and take the Red Line everywhere else.
When using public transit would hit a wall, I'd get Lyft or a Zipcar or rent a car for a few days.
People thought I was insane for doing this, and told me so in the most impolite ways.
The discussions usually went something like this. "You can't live in LA without a car." "Well, actually..." "NO I MEAN IT YOU ARE WRONG, I KNOW THIS I TRIED IT ONCE FOR SIX MINUTES AND YOU ARE TOTALLY WRONG I HEARD THIS ALL MY LIFE AND I GAVE IN SO YOU SHOULD TOO. AND THIS IS PERSONAL YOU ARE ATTACKING ME AREN'T YOU."
I'd shrug and go catch my bus, though I would have agreed with them in the past. When I lived in Venice in 1995, not having a car would have been extremely frustrating. I'd ended up with a rental Toyota Corolla from Ugly Duckling, and it was always breaking. Once it was even stolen.
My aunt, a PR specialist who grew up in Hollywood, was astonished at my car-free lifestyle. "You have to write an article," she'd say.
Things change. After a few years, I realized I was never going to drive the 1990 Ford Taurus back across the country. Henry the Ford had long outlasted my time with Turbo, the German, everyone else, and any vague interest I had in that sort of thing. I thought of Henry as a loyal human, and I had to convince myself he was just a car once I finally admitted I was never going to bring him back to his ancestral home, and sent him out to the great New Jersey junkyard in the sky.
Last night, talking with other people at a party, I realized that while I'd been ahead of the curve, no one thinks I'm crazy for not having a car in LA anymore. Car-free culture has exploded here. Those of us who'd moved here for work and not gotten cars used to have a sort of quiet bond, like smokers outside a building on a weekday afternoon, but now it's become normal. No one blinks when you call a ride-share. When you say you don't have a car, they just nod.
I guess I should have written that article back when I had the chance.
But then I didn't have time for a while, so my car sat there, used on long weekends when I'd go home. Meanwhile, in LA, I went from renting a car to taking the metro. The metro doesn't go to my office, but the bus does, so after a bit of frustration, I downloaded an app showing me exactly when the bus would arrive. Eventually, before I moved to Burbank, I rented an apartment in Hollywood, where I could catch a bus to work, and take the Red Line everywhere else.
When using public transit would hit a wall, I'd get Lyft or a Zipcar or rent a car for a few days.
People thought I was insane for doing this, and told me so in the most impolite ways.
The discussions usually went something like this. "You can't live in LA without a car." "Well, actually..." "NO I MEAN IT YOU ARE WRONG, I KNOW THIS I TRIED IT ONCE FOR SIX MINUTES AND YOU ARE TOTALLY WRONG I HEARD THIS ALL MY LIFE AND I GAVE IN SO YOU SHOULD TOO. AND THIS IS PERSONAL YOU ARE ATTACKING ME AREN'T YOU."
I'd shrug and go catch my bus, though I would have agreed with them in the past. When I lived in Venice in 1995, not having a car would have been extremely frustrating. I'd ended up with a rental Toyota Corolla from Ugly Duckling, and it was always breaking. Once it was even stolen.
My aunt, a PR specialist who grew up in Hollywood, was astonished at my car-free lifestyle. "You have to write an article," she'd say.
Things change. After a few years, I realized I was never going to drive the 1990 Ford Taurus back across the country. Henry the Ford had long outlasted my time with Turbo, the German, everyone else, and any vague interest I had in that sort of thing. I thought of Henry as a loyal human, and I had to convince myself he was just a car once I finally admitted I was never going to bring him back to his ancestral home, and sent him out to the great New Jersey junkyard in the sky.
Last night, talking with other people at a party, I realized that while I'd been ahead of the curve, no one thinks I'm crazy for not having a car in LA anymore. Car-free culture has exploded here. Those of us who'd moved here for work and not gotten cars used to have a sort of quiet bond, like smokers outside a building on a weekday afternoon, but now it's become normal. No one blinks when you call a ride-share. When you say you don't have a car, they just nod.
I guess I should have written that article back when I had the chance.
August 3, 2018
August Morning
Perfect morning light in Burbank.
July 31, 2018
Spirit Animal
I found a 2005 picture of two giraffes in my photo library and...what if I just...(click click).
The pushmi pullyu has always been my spirit animal.
July 23, 2018
Heading North
The trains from San Diego to Los Angeles were delayed for two days due to a "trespasser" being hit on Sunday.
Interesting choice of words. Accurate, I suppose, but sending a clear message of blame out over the P.A.
I had two seats to myself in business class, on the western side. The wifi worked well enough, and here was the view.
Not bad for a day's journey.
Interesting choice of words. Accurate, I suppose, but sending a clear message of blame out over the P.A.
I had two seats to myself in business class, on the western side. The wifi worked well enough, and here was the view.
Not bad for a day's journey.
July 21, 2018
Turn Up the Volume
Journey with me for a moment, from a high floor in the Hyatt down to the lobby bar on Saturday night of Comic-Con.
It's like you're there.
It's like you're there.
Hey Kids, Comics!
The annual pilgrimage to San Diego Comic Con sure is simpler now that I live a few hours away instead of across the country.
Good Nite Inn Seaworld room
I'd planned to go to the office the first half of Thursday, but then I didn't want to show up in San Diego too late, so I moved my Amtrak ticket to just before lunch and headed down to Union Station on the Red Line. Amtrak adds additional trains for SDCC, which start and end at LA and San Diego, not continuing on up the coast. This is how I hope to avoid riding the train with colleagues on the way down—I start in LA on a train that originates there, and then I don't end up with anyone who boards in Burbank.
Some of my colleagues are wonderful to talk with, but not all of them. It's not like I get to choose when I buy my train ticket, so this is a bit of preventative maintenance. Avoidance is harder than it sounds since we all buy business class tickets for this particular journey. It's the only way to guarantee a seat on standing room only trains.
I picked up lunch at Union Station and boarded. Initially, one of my colleagues sat down next to me in spite of my attempts at avoidance. Good news, he was one I enjoy speaking with. But then he had to move to let a mother sit next to her two kids, so I was able to read scripts and catch up on some work on my journey.
Three hours later, I disembarked in Old Town, one stop before the end of the line at the Santa Fe Depot in San Diego. I'd booked a motel cheapie out in the land of topless bars, which seem to now offer vaping as well as nude woman, and I was able to walk from the train station, though the walk was not one I'd want to do at night.
View from the Manchester Grand HyattThis night was on my own dime, and I'd picked the Good Nite Inn off booking.com, which turned out to be perfectly fine aside from being in a remote location. I checked in and walked back to the train station, where I caught the trolley to the convention center. I picked up my badge, met my good friend and partner-in-crime Stuart, and we went to dinner. We headed to two different parties later that evening, and I caught a Lyft home long after midnight.
Friday morning, I packed up, headed in by Lyft to the Hyatt (now on the company tab), and headed to Brickyard for coffee and breakfast. My first panel started at noon and I had two more over the course of the day. I crammed for all three, like a student during finals week. The secret to not saying something stupid in public is to know what you're talking about. At least, that works for me.
Prepared, I waded into the hall. First stop, DC Super Hero Girls panel. Second, Justice League. Third, Young Readers. Later, the Eisners, where one of my comics was nominated in three categories, but won exactly none.
When I dragged myself back to my room after a long night at the Hyatt bar, I was relieved. The hardest day was over. Only one panel a day after this, I thought, and promptly fell asleep.
Good Nite Inn Seaworld roomI'd planned to go to the office the first half of Thursday, but then I didn't want to show up in San Diego too late, so I moved my Amtrak ticket to just before lunch and headed down to Union Station on the Red Line. Amtrak adds additional trains for SDCC, which start and end at LA and San Diego, not continuing on up the coast. This is how I hope to avoid riding the train with colleagues on the way down—I start in LA on a train that originates there, and then I don't end up with anyone who boards in Burbank.
Some of my colleagues are wonderful to talk with, but not all of them. It's not like I get to choose when I buy my train ticket, so this is a bit of preventative maintenance. Avoidance is harder than it sounds since we all buy business class tickets for this particular journey. It's the only way to guarantee a seat on standing room only trains.
I picked up lunch at Union Station and boarded. Initially, one of my colleagues sat down next to me in spite of my attempts at avoidance. Good news, he was one I enjoy speaking with. But then he had to move to let a mother sit next to her two kids, so I was able to read scripts and catch up on some work on my journey.
Three hours later, I disembarked in Old Town, one stop before the end of the line at the Santa Fe Depot in San Diego. I'd booked a motel cheapie out in the land of topless bars, which seem to now offer vaping as well as nude woman, and I was able to walk from the train station, though the walk was not one I'd want to do at night.
View from the Manchester Grand HyattThis night was on my own dime, and I'd picked the Good Nite Inn off booking.com, which turned out to be perfectly fine aside from being in a remote location. I checked in and walked back to the train station, where I caught the trolley to the convention center. I picked up my badge, met my good friend and partner-in-crime Stuart, and we went to dinner. We headed to two different parties later that evening, and I caught a Lyft home long after midnight. Friday morning, I packed up, headed in by Lyft to the Hyatt (now on the company tab), and headed to Brickyard for coffee and breakfast. My first panel started at noon and I had two more over the course of the day. I crammed for all three, like a student during finals week. The secret to not saying something stupid in public is to know what you're talking about. At least, that works for me.
Prepared, I waded into the hall. First stop, DC Super Hero Girls panel. Second, Justice League. Third, Young Readers. Later, the Eisners, where one of my comics was nominated in three categories, but won exactly none.
When I dragged myself back to my room after a long night at the Hyatt bar, I was relieved. The hardest day was over. Only one panel a day after this, I thought, and promptly fell asleep.
July 15, 2018
Reunion 2018
Me and two of my college friends had dinner in South Pasadena tonight. I haven't seen one in decades. The other coincidentally works upstairs from me in Burbank.
Marie Javins's Blog
- Marie Javins's profile
- 8 followers
Marie Javins isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
their feed.
