Friday.

I told you it would be slow this week, but thanks all around to everyone to who clicks on this site daily just to see what sorts of things I'm getting myself into.

First: Have you been reading my column, Pauline's Picks on the E&P Web site? There are lots of link to cool online projects. Many have an Iraq war slant. Go learn somethin'.

Gossip Girl: I realize that this show is supposed to be the big hit of the season, the next O.C., etc....but I can't say that I'm in love with it. Maybe I'm not their target audience, but I am female and I do like fancy things. My beef, methinks, is that these are Upper East Side kids. I lived on the UES for two and half years and had to witness the private school kids all the time. They never struck me as being as sophisticated and devious as these characters are. Gossip Girl is like watching Dallas: 10021.

The Notebook: Last night I innocuously put The Notebook into the DVD player and curled up with some sushi. I basically spent the next two hours crying. Those of you who know me are probably thinking. What? There's no crying on Planet Pauline! But something about this film turned on the waterworks and wouldn't let them stop. Has anyone else had this reaction to this film? And yes, I was alone.

Support The Kitties!

Ready for Their Close Up, originally uploaded by La Pauline.

As many of you know, I adopted Maestro and Mozart from a shelter in Montreal called the Candian Pet Rescue. It's run by one women named Maggie and basically she takes care of all the animals' needs (medical, etc.) until the are adopted.

She has a great adoption rate and really helps these creatures.

That said, she could really use some donations to help defray costs of food and vet visits. You can make a donation through PayPal.

Or drive up and adopt a furball. Believe me, her cats are worth it.

Tuesday.

It's Tuesday, and I tried to put up a post last night but Blogger was being buggy and I didn't have the patience to wait around.

I'm a busy beaver this week, and sadly I have no photos to post for all of you.

I will, however, be on the Tyra Banks show tomorrow afternoon. Please try and watch it.

Walking The Walk

After my rant a few days ago about people who want to write but don't actually put pencil to pad, I figured I would post some of my recent stuff.

Here is today's column on The Simon in which I lament our societal obsession with the 1980s.

A column I wrote yesterday for Editor & Publisher magazine about how the campus paper covered the kid who got tasered at the University of Florida.

Cart in Front of Horse

Camera shy, originally uploaded by bryanilona.

Most people know that in addition to my day job I teach writing classes on the side, and have been for two years.

No matter how classes I teach, someone, usually on the first day of class, raises their hand and asks, "How do I go about getting an agent."

If you're in my class, the answer is, "You don't."

I don't know what it is about writing that makes everyone think that they can do it, and on top of that, make money off it. Just because someone can string sentences together and write e-mail does not mean that they can do this for a living. Being a writer is just as difficult as any other job, yet I am amazed by how many people think that doing what myself and so many of my friends do as easy. Techincally I can play the guitar, but you don't see me in a recording studio laying down tracks. I have enough sense to know that there is more to a music career than just writing catchy tunes.

Any writer will tell you that sometimes the act of writing is physically painful. It hurts to sit in front of your computer all day, usually hopped on caffeine or some other stimulant, and force the creative out.

There is a certain dizziness that comes from being inside your head all day long, and it's a dizziness that can only be stopped by a long run or doing manual labor around the house. Too many writers try to stop the mental exhaustion with liquor and drugs. A musician can spend all day long in his room, write a song and then play it at an open mic, and get immediate feedback. A writer doesn't have that luxury. Feedback can take weeks or years. That's a long time to wait until efforts are validated.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. People who don't write for a living need to understand that writing a book is the destination. The journey will take many steps, many drafts, and much frustration. The first step is sitting in the class taught by myself and so many others like me. The second is sitting down and writing. And writing. And writing some more. When it starts to drive you crazy, you know that you're on the right track.

In the meantime, don't think about agents or how to meet an editor. Don't think about whether you should self-publish or how much it costs to retain a publicist. Don't worry about what people will think if you open yourself up on the page. Sit down. Shut up. And write.

You want to be a writer, dont' you?

My Episode of Tyra Airs Sept. 26th!!

If you've ever wanted to see me in a bad outfit (on purpose) on national television, then TiVo The Tyra Banks Show on Sept. 26th. I'm on about halfway through.

Yes, I Will Be on the Tyra Banks Show

In case you've been lurking around my Flickr page (and you know you have) and didn't know what to make of a set called "Adventures on the Tyra Banks Show" I can tell you that later this month I will be one of many guests (yes, on the stage) on a show about fashion. Here are some shots from backstage, and yes, my outfit is supposed to look that strange.

Welcome to Green Room #5


Name on the Door


The ladies and Tim, the production assistant, of Green Room #5


Glam make up. I heart false eyelashes.


Work. It.


Ladies Love Louis Vuitton

How To Not Get A Woman To Have a Drink With You

A few nights ago I was walking home from an event and I decided to stop in an internet cafe to check my e-mail. It's a place I go often, and I am usually not bothered since it is dark and most of the men are looking at dirty Web sites anyway. (Yes, in front of everyone.)

I was almost done with my session when the guy next to me asked if he could try to e-mail me a music file. He told me that he kept trying to send it to his friend,
but it kept getting returned. I said sure, typed in my e-mail adddress, and sure enough, it went through. This guy told me that he was a musician.

"I wrote the song," he said. "Make sure to LISTEN TO THE WORDS."

The song was okay, but I told him that it really needed a bassline. Hey, I'm no slouch when it comes to music appreciation.

I left the cafe and thought nothing of the guy until I got this e-mail from him this morning. Please note that this guy has the word "liar" in his e-mail address and calls me a "healthy, full-figured, woman." Um, I'm a size 8. Chesty, yes, but still an 8.

Fellas, if you want a woman to loathe you for the rest of your life, call her full-figured. Please note, though, that the following women can be considered full-figured: Oprah Winfrey, Delta Burke, Mo'Nique, etc.

The follwing women may not: Pauline Millard.

Please make a note of it.


While you're at it, file this e-mail under "How Not to Get a Woman to Have a Drink With You."

***
your so cool to let me email you like that.i was
sincere about my computer problem though.but i really
did injoy talking to such a healthy ff. women.and
temted to ask you for a drink or so...well just
listen even more to my music again the same way
loudley eq..with head phones to get it in your head
,and listen to my words ,i write to thanks ...
****

Heeeeere's Maestro!

I am often accused of showing more attention to Mozart than Maestro, but when we got The Boys it was because Le Doug wanted another Himalayan, which is what Maestro is. Mozart was tacked on to the deal by the lady at the shelter. The two cats are a great find, and since Maestro already claimed by Le Doug's affection, I thought it was only right to focus on Mozart.

But here's Maestro, roused from an afternoon nap.

Babies: The Ultimate Accessory

Any gal about town can have the It Bag of the season or the right address, but a baby, now that's what I call a factory original.

Last night I finally got to meet Petra, the little bean of Cara and Ben. Petra and I hit it off famously. It seems that she likes people who are naturally soft and know how to support her head. She even put on her pink camoflage onesie for me. I think it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Cute as a button!


Big Yawn


A Perfect Fit in the Crook of My Arm

The Weekend Continues...

The weekend is going well over here on Planet Pauline. Last night we marked Christine's 30th birthday with a dinner over at the SoNo Seaport. Good times were had by all. And in true, large group dinner situation, the bill did not come out right even though everyone claimed to have paid their share. Hmmmm...



I'm in the middle of readng Deluxe: How Luxury Lost Its Luster by Dana Thomas. It's a great read if you're into luxury purses and want to know how much you're being ripped off for that Louis Vuitton Speedy. (The answer is that they're marked up up to 13 times.) It's not much of a beach read, but still worth your lunch money.

Speaking of the beach, I made it out to Tod's Point in Greenwich yesterday for one last hurrah of sun.

Weekend Cat Pictures and Links

Mozart understands the concept of a weekend. He sleeps most of the day and then loafs around the house as needed.

Thus far the weekend is going well for me. I've done some much needed shopping, will head out for a birthday dinner later on and at some point I would like to hit the beach.

There's a great piece in The New York Times magazine this weekend about Rick Rubin and his new post at Columbia Records. It's long, but a great article.

On a creepier note, I found this multimedia project from the St. Petersburg Times a few days ago about a 1987 murder case that was supposedly closed. Thanks to a recent fingerprint match, it seems that the guy who was locked up for the crime, the victim's husband, may not have donme it all. He has claimed his innocence all along. Check it out.

And since we all love bodega cats, here is my most recent snap of one named Nola, who lives over on Third Avenue.