Baby, it's cold outside

To deal with record breaking cold, inexperienced Floridians are driving up the workload on their electric heaters. On the news, they were explaining that not only is this expensive but it is causing rolling brown outs. They then cut to an exterior shot of a house lit up with enough Christmas lights to land a 747. Idiots.

So here's an idea. Until this cold snap moves on, let's cut down on the nonessentials. I'm pretty sure you can live without your giant inflatable dancing Santa if it means the family down the street doesn't all have to huddle together for warmth. I will not be plugging in my tree, lighted garland, or even the digital picture frame. I live on the 3rd floor of my building so I can take advantage of heat rising from the apartments below. The average temp in the house is 70, but my thermostat is set to 65. Yeah I can't wander around in the nude but at least I know our heater won't burn out and leave us wearing motorcycle leathers to bed. The sun never really hits our side of the building so I'm keeping my heavy drapes closed to block out cold. Normally we don't latch the door to our patio so the cats can open the door to go in and out. Unfortunately the wind has been doing the same so now the door is closed. Though it is pretty funny to watch them run headlong right into the door and stumble away dazed and confused.

These are merely examples. Just hope it inspires you to take a moment and look around to decide what doesn't need to be plugged in. I know it's less cheery and that dark tree doesn't quite herald in the Christmas cheer but every little bit helps. Give back to the power grid and we can all sleep a little snugger. Of course you can flip on the lights when your holiday revelers arrive, but you're not having a party every night.

At least I hope not...

And if you are, where's my invite?

The Shavening

So who are my Twitter fans? If you have been anywhere near my twitter posts, you've noticed my countdown. In case you missed what I've been counting down to, well to this weekend. At the stroke of Midnight this Saturday, I will be shaving my head.

That's right, I will be bald. 

And I am excited. And I am terrified. I can't wait. I can't wait to get it over with. I am anxious in every sense of the term. I can't wait to see what I'll look like, and I can't wait to see what it will look like when it grows back in. This will be the first time in my life I've not had hair on my head. I'm serious; ask my mother, I was born with a full head of hair.

A lot of people have asked me why, and when I respond with “why not” they seem less than satisfied. To be honest, I’ve always been curious to see what’s lying underneath this big red mop. For some reason, that isn’t good enough; but now when I explain that I am shaving for my role in this year’s Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios Orlando, people seem to be more accepting. I don’t know why people find the idea that the decision is out of my hands so comforting, I wonder if it is because they would be too scared to do it themselves. Whatever the reason, my reasons for doing so always seem to end up becoming more and more involved. What was originally just an impulsive decision made from a vague curiosity has now become a deep, redefinition of my identity and understanding of my feminine self.

Hair is important to women. We pamper it, we talk to it, we have entire rituals and businesses devoted to it. “I can’t go out, I’m washing my hair.” A woman’s hair speaks in volumes about her; a short cut says sporty and defiant, long is glamorous and flirty, simple cuts say practical and forward thinking, even a simple wash and wear style says busy and low maintenance. Women develop relationships with their hair. I know I’ve had days where I felt my hair was rebelling and every time I threaten to cut it, it begins to cooperate. How the hair looks can determine the makeup and wardrobe choices of the day. The affect the weather is going to have on her hair can change all of a woman’s plans for the day. Throughout myth and lore, a woman’s hair often housed her magical powers or abilities. Women used to give her most prized possession, a lock of her hair, to her beau. There are charities specifically devoted to getting lush, realistic wigs to women undergoing medical traumas that result in hair loss. And to take away this icon is somehow disfiguring.  Hair loss in men is something socially accepted, no one gives a bald man a second look, but a bald woman is a stigma. “There must be something wrong,” “She must be a lesbian,” “She must have mental issues.”

To be mentally fit, secure in my heterosexual identity and excessively healthy, I can’t help but wonder how people will react to me. I know people that know me will not be shocked because I am doing it; they just seem shocked that a woman is doing it. Fascinating how the people who know me separate my core personality from my status as a woman. And I know people who don’t know me will go through those assumptions (illness, be it physical or mental). What I will be curious to find out is how differently people will treat me on a subconscious level. I know I get away with a lot because I’m a cute red-head and I know I use this to my advantage. What I don’t know is how much this going to change. I may not be a “red head” but will I still be cute? Will it matter? Let’s be honest, we’re all more likely to respond better to the attractive, no matter what gender they are. It’s evolutionary physiology (or some other combination of big words meaning it’s in our nature). Will people still be so forgiving when I screw up, drop the ball, or generally flake? Do people respond to my beaming personality or flirty smile? I’ve always had an amazing ability to get away with a lot of crazy shit, will people be so amused when it’s the Sinead O’Conner wanna-be that’s doing it? With all this focus on looks, I am panic stricken at the idea of no longer having my hair to hide behind. My thick copper locks conceal my uneven ears, my bumpy forehead, and my mismatched eyebrows. What if on top of that I have a funny shaped head, or a dent? What if I have a huge, vaguely phallic birthmark??? It’s one thing to no longer be a red-head, I’ve experienced that through my various color phases, but if I’m not cute, what am I? Is confidence really that beautiful, as we are lead to believe in Cosmo and on Tyra, or are I confident BECAUSE I am beautiful? I feel confident that I can talk my way out of just about anything, but I’m pretty sure that smile and flick of the hair must help.

But scariest of all, what if nobody notices?

But for all this terror and fret, I am intrigued by what the next two months will hold. I will have to confront this new girl in the mirror and come to a new understanding of my self image. I will have to define what makes me feminine, find where glamorous truly lies. This experiment has so much potential to strip me of the insecurities that get swept up in sweeping bangs. I will have to learn to get passed the wall of obsessive reflection; a term I just made up, meaning that sensation of “They’re all going to notice” when in fact, everybody is too busy wondering the same thing to notice what you’re hoping they won’t notice. So stick with me for the next two months, if anything just for the morale support. I’ll be reporting on the progress of the experiment, all my little freak outs, and any startling revelations I come across! Plus pictures of my bald glory and updates from behind the scenes of one of the country’s best haunted events!

Appetizer

Sad day my friends. I was going to do a second month review of my P90X
progress, instead I will be postponing my workouts for at least two
weeks. On my recent adventure through California, I some how hurt a
tendon in my left leg. I tried to tough through it for the rest of the
trip and I had planned to add extra cardio to my work outs the week
after to make up for the lost P90X days. Unfortunately this only
exasterbated the problem and with a week of AV work I must be able
bodied for, I do not want to risk hurting myself worse. The only way
it's going to get better will be to keep off my feet in my free time.

Sadface.

I do plan to swim and do what exercises I can (soooo Ab Ripper X and
upper body) to at least keep up and not fall too far off track. But to
push through the pain would break a workout commandment, and possibly
me.

Oh but hey that means more time to blog about the trip!

What a whirlwind! Soon as Andy (the Sancho to my Quixote… only
hotter) and I stepped off the plane, we were whisked away by his
father, a character we will simply know as Mr. H. Once free of the LA
traffic we sped away to Paso Roubles, at the breakneck speed of 60
mph. For an SUV with a trailer hauling 2 Honda Shadows, not too bad.
Also large trucks and trailers, etc, have a seperate speed limit in
California than that of regular cars. Either way, California is a long
state and that is a long drive after a long flight. Needless to say I
was tired and restless. When we arrived at the hotel, the last thing I
wanted to do want travel more. But we only had a week and we were
going to lose a lot to travel time and the boys wanted to ride.

Let me tell you, it was worth it! Be sure to check back soon for the
next installment of the trip, "Day 1: Moro Bay"!

Grace "Scully" Nolan
813.545.8444

Ladies and gentleman!

A great day is upon us! I can now blog from my phone! Oh yes, I have
overcome my biggest obstacle to blogging… getting off the couch. So
no more excuses. I can compose quick pieces throughout the day,
anytime anywhere and upload it as easily as sending a text. Oh the
marvels of modern technology.

This is especially convenient with my upcoming trip to California!
That's right, this Saturday I will be leaving for LAX with my every
reliable sidekick, Andy, where we shall rendezvous with the infamous
Mr. H (Andy's father). The week will consist of motorcycles, gorgeous
California coastline, towering forests, breathtaking desert-scapes,
dining expeditions, and adventure! I don't have an official itinerary
to post for you but I will do my best to post a review of each day.

Only detail still troubling me? How do I work in my P90X?!

Grace "Scully" Nolan
813.545.8444

P90X: Day 17

or Why Tony Horton Is My Only Friend

Remember that great and inspiring post about how I was going to start writing every day, inspired by my own progress in jogging? Yeah, sorry about that. I .....uuuuuuuh... Steve Buscemi trapped me in an internet and bear proof container in Fargo and I only just escaped upon discovering the door was a push, not a pull. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Well, as my Twitter followers may have noticed,  I haven't been jogging. But do not fret, I have not betrayed myself or you. I have been engrossed in the P90X Extreme Home Fitness program. My boyfriend had mentioned it as something he wanted to try to build muscle and shed a few vanity pounds and I said I would do it with him for support. And I tell you, o faithful readers (i.e. Dad, Dawn, and Patrick), it is everything it promises to be. Extreme and at home.

I love it though. I'm completely obsessed, at the risk of alienating myself from my loved ones. I talk about my experience and progress every chance I get. And I have become one of those people who turn down food by explaining "I've already had my carb for the day". Yes... I am a fitness douche. It's gotten to the point that both friends and family have begun to tease me about my "diet" (at 120lbs and a size 4 jeans, people don't what to hear me say "diet"). I'm sure even Andy, my forever patient and even tempered boyfriend, must be sick of my bad workout jokes, referencing the trainers in the videos as if we actually knew them, and constantly spouting the catch phrases from the videos.

 The Before Shot

 The Goal (Dreya Weber)

But for the program to be effective, you have to dedicate and commit yourself. And folks, I am most certainly committable! Read on for more about my progress and how the program works.

Travelingshooz reviews the Opening Ceremonies.

As a live events production tech, the Olympics have a completely different draw for me. While others talk about how fast the lugers are going, I'm talking about the camera's being able to keep up. But as a spectator and a viewing citizen of TVland, I could care less. When we were last invaded by the Olympians, I had missed the opening ceremonies and boy did I miss out. All I heard about for the next few weeks from my colleagues was about the impressive scale and magnitude of the whole event, critiques on the director's choice of using CG for broadcast, syncing issues, etc etc. And I was completely left out of the discussion. Well this year I was determined to not make that mistake again. I sat down at 7pm share with water and snacks, ready to take in the splendor of this "intimate" affair.

A day in the life of AV

Get to work, scam your way into parking for free.
Stand around, talk about work to be done.
Wait to do the work.
Get ready to do the work.
Wait for people to get out of the way of the work to be done.
Do the work.
Stop working to take a lunch break.
Get ready to finish the work.
Finish the work.
Talk about the work, wonder if there's more work to be done.
Go home, eat good food and paint, play music or do yoga to replace the feeling of being completely unfulfilled.

Repeat.

Die.

Submission

So I've been slacking, I know. I was determined to start the new year out writing every week, if not every day. Instead, I've been too busy, I had no inspiration, I had nothing to say, I had nothing to say that anyone would read. Eventually it became out of sight and out of mind. Way to trip on the first hurdle.

Recently, as I do at the beginning of every year,