So Sorry

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So Sorry

I understand there was a bit of a security breach at Sony recently, in which some (presumably North Korean) hackers released bajillions of internal employee emails which were never meant to be read by the people those Sony employees were insulting, dismissing, and disrespecting. Collateral damage included Pitt, Jolie, DiCaprio, Clooney, even Will Smith’s kids after their curious interview in T Magazine in which they said they read “things that can’t be pre-dated” and don’t believe in time “because living.”

The news sent a chill down my spine: I just finished reading The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson, a fictional but well-researched account about life in North Korea (5 stars, read it read it read it.) I have sent emails that I’d prefer the subject never reads. Given my level of fame – you know, the one that editors like so much that they say “get more of it if you want us to publish your memoir” – it’s probably just a question of time before my own email history gets leaked and covered on TMZ, CNN, and The Daily Show.

So I’m going to issue a blanket apology in advance, to the following people, for what I’ve said about them via email. It’s better to be proactive than reactive, right?

Achilles: You’re not a stupid dog. It’s just that sometimes, when Mom is frustrated with how you jump out of your skin every time I so much as shift in my desk chair because you think THIS is the moment when I am finally going to walk you, I have to express my feelings. To Dad. Via email.

My Husband: Sorry for all the dog-related emails.

PR people who send me pitches because they want me to write about cannabis-infused foreplay oil, hemorrhoid treatments, or who start off by saying “your blog is useful because it offers such helpful tips on auto repair!”: I’m sorry that I forward those to Wendi Aarons with a note that says, “I think this is for you.”

Wendi Aarons: I’m sorry that I have forwarded this picture you emailed me to our mutual friends and told them I felt bullied.

Steven Pressfield: I receive your inspirational and pragmatic tips for writers every week, and each of them deserves deliberate reading and reflection. Which is why there are three hundred unopened emails from you in my in box. I’m sorry that I respect you so much that I can’t even read your emails.

That one elementary school teacher: Yes, I did call you Operation CrazyTown in a number of emails to fellow parents and school administrators. I will apologize for the nickname. But not for the fact that you’re no longer allowed in a classroom with children.

My amazing web designer Nicole: Sorry I send you a series of emails that say, “GoDaddy is down again!” “Ok now it’s up!” “Looks like the problem may be Yahoo.” “Ok, the blog is fine now, but the web site isn’t.” “Wait, it’s the web site that’s working, but not the blog.” “Can you check GoDaddy again?” “Ok now it’s up! Everything’s fine!” Usually within about five minutes of each other, first thing in the morning.

Fox Theater, Independent, Songkick, and other concert promoter emails: True, you all end up in my Trash folder eventually. But know that I weigh each concert against the other one carefully, and consider Sophie’s Choice only slightly easier than me having to decide between Brett Dennen at the Sweetwater and George Ezra at the Fillmore. I’m sorry I can’t go to every show you tell me about. Really, I am.

To my sister and my brother: God gave us two siblings apiece so we would always have someone with whom to talk behind each other’s back. I know full well you do it about me, too, so don’t get too sanctimonious. PS 98% of these emails are along the lines of “what did you get her for Christmas last year? Wait, didn’t I get that for you? Then who did I give that blue ceramic chip bowl to?”

And finally, Will Smith’s kids: I thought that was a weird interview too, and I let a few friends know via email. Because living.

Here’s how my brain works: in the course of writing this I namedropped George Ezra, then went and looked at his tour schedule, and ended up buying tickets to see him play at the Fillmore in April before I could finish writing the post. Blogging can be very expensive for me.

ICYMI: The next I Have To Work Tomorrow Early Bird ’80s Dance Party is set for Thursday, Feb 12 2015, at the Cat Club in San Francisco. Here’s the FB invite if you care to RSVP and share, but all are welcome!