*still tired* *still busy*

While I'm not in the rut I was around the time of the last post, it's still pedal to the metal to keep up with the list of the things I need to do (but don't want to do) the list of things I need to do (and want to do) and the things I want to do but don't need to...

While the new year is bringing new projects forward, January is pretty much about house-cleaning (metaphorically and oh, so literally) to get a lot of the remnants of 2007 out of the way. I'm a hoarder at heart, but now is the time I'm being ruthless and surrendering to ebay. Equally there's design work for HLWW to finish, some PR work for some LA-based people to do and a ton of plans for Impact that will make February a busy month (as if it wasn't creaking under the weight of schedule-juggling already!).

However with my loan completely cleared and plans moving forward to finding a new house/apartment later in the year, I'm entirely motivated to keep motivated: even if it means putting a curb on the fastlane and whirlwind of my stunning social life. (whereforeartthou, irony?)

Cinema Days was a ton of fun as always, but the next few weeks and months will be fairly solid graft. No rest for the wicked...

There are the days when the rain pours, your hard work barely gets noticed, people are just there to frustrate you, there are taxes to be done, designs to be designed, articles to be... articled and and there's over three hundred sodding days still to go until Christmas.

Usually those days are called Mondays, but now it appears Tuesdays have joined the club. If Wednesdays apply for membership I may quietly scream.

In a strange new viral marketing campaign revelation, it appears that a major new motion picture has been revealed as merely a cleverly constructed marketing stunt for the birthday of Kerry Glover.

Born just over twenty-nine years ago, the story of this valiant script co-ordinator, script supervisor, personal assistant, kind hostess, international diplomat, organiser, Whedonverse-fan, cat-owner, friend to the stars, writer of scripts, Boromir-acolyte, globe-trotter, vicar-and-tart party creator and WGA picketer-of-the-week was an obvious shoe-in for the Oscars, if only they were likely to take place.

Let mere mortals tremble at her awesome organising/organizing power...

So endeth this LA part of my trip. Currently at LAX waiting for my flight and looking back with mixed feelings about recent weeks. Certainly a fair amount accomplished and a few lessons learned.

I think everyone was feeling weary and maybe something to do with the (relative) cold and wet hitting LA. Kerry had to be up early to picket at Burbank and Shaleah had to be up at 3:00am to help a friend get to the airport. I tossed and turned a bit with this damned cold I've not ben able to shake off and finally got up at around 9:30 after dropping in and out of sleep since the early hours (could work in my favour for sleep-patterns!). Arranged to meet back up with Shaleah and look for Dough-Boys off LaBrea (not as risque at that sounds) but it appeared that dining establishment had vanished off the face of the Earth, so we settled for a smalller, but nice place further up. Helped/hindered S with her Shakespeare and monologue prep and compared more notes about life and LA.The good, the bad and the fugly.

Part of me, the stupid, tired part, obviously, will be glad to get back to the UK eventually, but the flipside is that I hope to concentrate on resolving all the financial and general get-fitiness issues that urgently need attention. But one thing at a time...

And after sleep, obviously.

I certainly feel at home in LA, though on this ocassion I've promised Kerry that I won't outstay her kind hospitality and I'll be out of the apartment and city on Monday.

Thankfully there's not too much to do - this leg of the trip is largely just saying Hi to friends and catching up with people. Kerry has been manning (womaning) the WGA picket lines over at NBC and I've been catching up with due Impact articles and setting other stuff up. Visited with Gillian H again and spoke to David Abramowitz this afternoon, though it looks like I won't be able to meet up with him before I leave - which is a shame as he's one of the nicest, cleverest guys in the industry.

But DID meet up with the bright and beautiful Shaleah (see last year's Biarritz blogs) on Thursday and hope to do so again on or before Monday to discuss life, the universe, internal business realignment, crazy people, PR and Shakespeare. Possibly Guiness will be, like totally, involved.

Today (well, Friday) has been something of a literal washout weatherwise and the perfect storm (more of an imperfect, long-lasting pourdown) will be here for the next few days with no serious damage but the sight of some trash-cans floating down the Hollywood Hills. (The picture to the upper left shows a long-exposure from the apartment as the rain beats down)

Tomorrow I'm hoping to catch some of the Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles cast in the afternoon and will head up to Len Wein's party later. In the meantime I will play with Wesley and Willow, now both hugely more huge than the ickle kitties they were on the day Kerry brought them home. Here they are, all majestic-like.

Cats. Gotta love 'em. It's the rules.

Well, despite what it says atop this post, it's still technically New Year's Eve and I'm actually in Los Angeles. I intended to be in Denver for NYE, celebrating with friends there, but my plans seem at the whim of the gods (and not the fluffy cloud variety, more the lightning-throwing, fickle ones) and with the onset of nuclear winter conditions with no sign of the end to the cold front or thaw, I bid a hasty retreat - though I should thank Kit and Ariel for letting me stay with them for a couple of nights en route. I also discovered a game called Blokus there which is a mixture of Skirrid, Tetris and Othello and only slightly less addictive than chocolate. Get thee hence to a toyshop and purchaseth.

Last night I hung out with Kerry, Gillian Horvath, Len Wein (the creator of Wolverine) and others at Payden Kershner's first birthday. if ever there was a chubby-cheeked metaphor for the New gleefully crawling its way past the Old, then this was it. She's already walking, almost talking, clapping along in rythmn and laughing (or at least dribbling and smirking) at all my jokes and thinks I'm endearingly fun. Possibly the only female I know who does...