'You've Got Some Stuff'

For the past six months, NPR's weekend "All Things Considered" has featured the series "Movies I've Seen a Million Times," where filmmakers, actors, writers and directors talk about the movies that they never get tired of watching. More than a dozen people have contributed, detailing why they can't get enough of movies ranging from "The Godfather" to "Clueless" (one of my all-time favorites).

I have a rather long list of movies I could contribute to the series and, thanks to a cable subscription, it keeps growing. The list includes movies I've loved most of my life ("Stand By Me," "Ferris Bueller," "She's Having a Baby"), movies tied to a time and place ("Chasing Amy," "Office Space," "Clueless") and newer discoveries ("Sarah Marshall," "Crazy, Stupid, Love." "Easy A").

"Bridesmaids" fits into the newer-discoveries category, a movie I saw in the theater and have watched dozens and dozens of times on cable since. There are so many reasons to like the movie—the performances, the jokes, the friendships—but the thing that keeps me tuning in over and over is Annie's fall, and how much I relate to it.

Throughout the movie, Annie's life is crumbling around her. She's lost her business and her boyfriend, has a terrible job, worse roommates and a still worse car. The disappointments pile up and up and up until Annie feels like she's going to break under the weight of it all. She sees no hope in her situation so willfully makes terrible decisions and refuses any help.

I understand how could Annie fall into despair, why she believes her life is total garbage and won't ever change. Sometimes bad news arrives in pairs or large groups. Sometimes the only way you can think of to respond is by hiding. Sometimes it feels easier to give in than to fight.

Once Annie accepts responsibility for her past failures, and potential future successes, she's able to move forward. I haven't hit bottom like she did, but I know action works better than passivity. I know I'm the cause of and solution to all the challenges I face.

Even though I know all this, even though I feel like I'm at least slightly better together than Annie is, I still tune in to "Bridesmaids." Seeing her make all the wrong moves reminds me why I have to keep trying to make the right ones.

'You Place the Flowers in the Vase …'

I bonded with this week's contributor at my first real job in 1999. Dr. Erica is simply one of the coolest people I've ever known—smart, passionate, funny, tough and honest. She recently turned 36 and reflects on the amazing adventures, milestones and heartbreaks she faced at 35 below.

Your name (first name and last initial) Erica H.

What year did you turn 35? 2012

Where were you living then? Ashland, Wisconsin. The middle of the fucking arctic tundra. Horribly long winters, but living on Lake Superior is amazing.

What were you doing then? I was in my fourth year as an assistant professor of history at a very small liberal arts college. I was preparing for a big trip to Europe. I was finishing the edits on my first book. I suffered an ectopic pregnancy and lost my right fallopian tube.

What big personal milestones happened when you were 35? My first book, on wine culture in 19th century America, was accepted for publication by a big academic press. A massive, awesome milestone for me. I also got married—for the second time. The wedding was tiny, only 35 people, in a church-turned-yoga-studio six blocks from Lake Superior, two days after Thanksgiving. We did everything OUR way: tiny, beautiful venue and group of people; awesome four-piece jazz band; cheesecake; our favorite beer on tap. A huge year for me!

What major events happened in the world that year? I feel like the world has grown only more polarized in the past few years. Partisan politics, of course. But also the everyday life stuff that used to be fairly rote is now a political decision, a decision where you're testing your health at every turn. In this case, friends all around me trying to get pregnant are scared to eat, scared to cook on certain surfaces, scared to breathe normal air and drink normal water. Rates of autism are skyrocketing; cancer is far from cured; incredible acts of terrorism are enacted seemingly monthly, while teenage school-shooters keep killing kids. America is doing many, many things wrong. And FOX News just keeps lying to people! WTF if going on?!

What are your favorite memories of being 35? Signing a book contract; being proposed to in Italy; the second year settling into my "new" 110-year-old home. Dancing with my husband at our wedding. Growing incredible gardens in a very tough climate. Being a respected (and feared!) professor.

What did you like best about yourself at that age? I feel I've attained a healthy balance and maturity at 35. I had set the goal of becoming a college professor long ago—I didn't tell anyone, but I knew I wanted it in high school. And so the fruition of those dreams has been really sweet (and will be even sweeter with tenure next year). I feel I judge myself and others more fairly now. My bullshit meter for myself (and others) is more highly attuned, and at the same time, I know when I need to give myself a break. I think the key word here is balance. The yoga is paying off in more ways than one!

What did you like least about yourself at that age? I feel like I'm losing my passionate political edge. I still have a great critical cultural edge, but I'm less willing to drop everything and go to a political rally now. Or listen to Rage Against the Machine or Ani DiFranco just to scream for a while. It's kind of sad. I guess these are the normal trade-offs of having a great career, a house, a husband, trying for a family. My political beliefs haven't changed, but I'm less willing to go enact them, whatever the means. Maybe this means I'm becoming a middle-aged suburbanite. Yikes. But maybe it also means I've been able to make positive change where and how I wanted to—in the college classroom and in my writing. And that wipes me out. But I'd like to go scream sometimes, too.

What were the biggest lessons you learned at that age? I gained some perspective on the fraught relationship I've had with my mother over my life. Nothing is fixed, and I'm still hampered in some ways by the things she did (and didn't do), but I feel like I developed some clarity about her, and me, and my choices which were best for me. She took many of my big life choices as a personal insult (i.e., moving away from my home state, getting a PhD, becoming a professor, putting off a family). I realized at about 35 that what she wanted in me was her Mini-Me (and that's just not cool, man). Realizing that fact alone, as well as my (sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious) decisions to be the person and scholar *I* wanted to be has set me free in some new ways, although I haven't lived with or near her since I was 18. When and if I get to become a mother, my number-one goal is to help my kid become the good person s/he wants to be, not a cookie-cutter of me.

What were the biggest misconceptions you had about being 35? Hmm. I think I probably thought I could have it all at this age: loving husband, home ownership, great career, kids. I've got the first three (after a massive, horrible hiccup with a shithead first husband), but not the last. Keeping balanced, happy, and all that jazz in all areas (the essence of the American Dream, no?) is crazy fucking hard, and a standard we shouldn't push ourselves to.

What was the most surprising thing about being 35? How fucking hard it is to get pregnant and then keep a viable, healthy pregnancy. I realize I'm in the minority, but I had an ectopic pregnancy in July 2012, and had a (uterine) miscarriage at eight weeks nine months later. Both ended in catastrophic surgeries and long recoveries. Every friend of mine that is trying to get pregnant in their mid-thirties is having some kind of issue, usually more on the fertility/conception side of things than on the viability of the embryo side. It's debilitating. We all focused on our careers, as society prompts us to do, and so first and second pregnancies were delayed. Essentially, our biological clocks haven't kept up with society's changes, and it sucks.

If you could go back to that age knowing what you know now, what would you do differently? Not much. I think I've made the best decisions I could make—knew myself and acted accordingly. At any age, I think I would try to go back and convince myself that my crappy body image garbage wasn't worth it. God, if I had only given it up decades ago…and if I could only FULLY give it up now.

What advice can you offer to other 35-year-olds? Be easy on yourself. Be fabulous. I'm fairly sure 35 is the sexiest we'll ever be.

Is there anything else you'd like to share about your experiences being 35? Make damn sure you're with a person that loves you and wants the best for you, that loves your body (even more than you do), and does little nice things just to make you happy. If you feel like you're dragging that person along in life, or if any of the above requirements are not fulfilled, RED ALERT. Drop that person NOW. It's SO much better, life-changing, really, to be in a relationship where all those items are met—with aplomb and with love and respect.

'I'm Losing My Perspicacity!'

I've often identified with Lisa Simpson, her curiosity, frustration, humor, alienation, rebellion and identity crises. (Some people have also suggested that I sound a bit like her, too.)

I thought of Lisa today and "The Simpsons" season six episode ("The PTA Disbands") when Springfield Elementary School closes temporarily because of a teachers' strike. Away from the comforts of the controlled classroom environment, no longer being measured, rated, critiqued or praised, Lisa starts to break down.

"Grade me...look at me...evaluate and rank me! Oh, I'm good, good, good, and oh so smart! Grade me!" she implores mother Marge, who frantically scribbles an "A" on a piece of paper and hands it to her daughter, trying to calm her down.

Being out of work, away from the sometimes comforting, sometimes inspiring, sometimes maddening production cycle, I'm feeling like Lisa Simpson. I don't see myself as a person who needs constant reassurance, but I do appreciate feedback, constructive criticism, instruction and, yes, praise. I'm not getting any of that now and I feel less than because of it.

During the teachers' strike, Lisa turned to various plans to satisfy her intellectual and emotional needs, from drafting her own curriculum to shadowing her teacher in the hopes of learning something, anything. I've made plans to keep my mind and skills as sharp as possible during this sabbatical, but whatever the project, no matter how grand or complicated, doesn't give me the same things that a full-time job would.

By the end of the episode, the teachers and the school district came to an agreement, and the kids returned to school. For Lisa Simpson, all was once again right with the world. I know I'll have my happy resolution, too, I just want to be on my "A" game when it happens.

'And Steal Away Our Destiny ...'

In 1997, I was a 20-year-old college student and pretty well broke, pulling together what money I had from a part-time job, an internship or the stipend I earned working too many hours on the school paper. Despite this, I went to some amazing concerts that year: Beck, Tina Turner and Cyndi Lauper, No Doubt and Weezer, Rollins Band, U2, INXS, Brian Setzer Orchestra, Violent Femmes, Almost Acoustic Christmas (featuring Save Ferris, Everclear, Sugar Ray, Green Day, David Bowie and others) and Aerosmith.

There'd be other years with far more shows, but 1997 was the year when going to concerts went from being a once-in-a-while treat to a year-round activity. That was also the year Michael Hutchence died and I learned the importance of taking advantage of the opportunities that are presented to you.

I wrote about that fantastic July evening at The Greek Theatre with INXS on my other blog last year, the excitement of hearing those songs live for the first time, of seeing Michael Hutchence work his magic, and of ending up face-to-face with the man after the show and losing the nerve to speak. I left the theater determined to get another chance to thank him for the music, the show, everything, but a few months later that chance was gone forever.

I think about that night from time to time, reminding myself of that lesson. Sadly, I haven't always lived that way, made the most of every moment, taken those sudden turns that transform an ordinary night into the stuff of legends.

This bit of a sabbatical I'm on does provide an excellent opportunity to live bigger and better than I have of late, to take chances, experiment, learn, grow and do all the things that will point me in the direction I should be headed.

That's another challenge, though; I'm still not sure where that is. I started reading Kevin Smith's "Tough Sh*t: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good" for some laughs and, possibly, some inspiration from the man who brought me Ben Affleck. I'll be done with the book by the end of the day and have already gotten a few gems, such as this bit in chapter one:

"In the face of such hopelessness as our eventual, unavoidable death, there is little sense in not at least trying to accomplish all of your wildest dreams in life."

Makes total sense to me, except I'm having trouble expressing what my wildest dreams are. Who do I want to be? What do I want to do with my life? Where am I headed? When will I know the answers to any of these questions?

I've got some thinking to do and adventures to have.

'Just Stuck Inside the Groove'

This past week I ran into some people I hadn't seen in a while, people who didn't know I was currently jobless.

"So have you been?"
Eh ….

"What's new?"
Um …

Yeah, it's awkward. I don't know what to say and they don't know how to react. It's like when you see an old acquaintance who asks about the boyfriend you broke up with, the friend you're no longer speaking to, the relative who died—they don't know they've hit a sore spot, they're just curious about your life.

After more than two months, I naively thought that everybody did know I'd been laid off and that I wouldn't have to tell the story anymore. I realize now that there's no way of guaranteeing that any news, good or bad, will be properly spread to every single person in your life, so I have to be prepared to give the updates and answer the questions, even when I don't feel like it.

As I've written before, I've been overwhelmed by a gracious outpouring ever since I learned I'd be losing my job. I've been recommended for jobs, sent listings, received notes of love and encouragement, and gotten more hugs, handshakes, smiles and nods than I can count. All of that has meant so much to me but there are still times when I want to close in and shut down, when I succumb to solipsism, am overtaken by doubt, do battle with self-pity, and just want to be left alone.

I feel like the worst person in the world at those times.

I want help except when I don't. I want to talk about it except when I can't. There are times when I want to unload everything, dissect the minute whys and hows, and somehow arrive at the purpose of this experience; other times I want to forget it and just talk about anything else.

As positive, as hopeful, as confident as I can be, I do sometimes feel that I don't wear all this as well as I could, and I'm sorry for that.

Someone who wears most things much better than I ever could is Russell Brand. He's hosting a charity gig tomorrow night to raise money to help people addicted to drugs and alcohol get the help they need. In this diary entry he talks about how his own struggle pushes him to help others. It's an incredibly worthwhile read.

'I'm Dead-On for 35'

John Mayer has been a bit off-the-radar for the past two years, first going underground after shooting his mouth off a bit too much in interviews and then going into seclusion as he recovered from two vocal cord procedures. His voice is nearly healed now so he's begun making public appearances, including doing an interview for this past weekend's "CBS Sunday Morning."

In the interview, John Mayer (who I only refer to by full name, FYI) was asked about the infamous interviews, the tabloids, his relationships, his health and his music (which, sadly, gets overshadowed too often by the other things on this list). He talked about the lessons he's learned over the past few years and said, "I wish that I grew up a year for every year of my life, but I didn't, I stopped for a certain period of time and I was 24 for six years, or whatever, and then the log jam cleared. I'm dead-on for 35."

I wish I could be that sure of myself at this age. Whatever the physical, emotional, spiritual, intellectual and material markers a person's supposed have at 35, today, watching that interview, hearing John Mayer say that, I don't feel I can say that for myself.

I've never lied about my age because I never saw the need to. Now when I tell someone how old I am, I'll admit that I feel a bit embarrassed because I don't think I've lived up to it. I want to be able to declare myself, my age, my accomplishments, my situation without apology. Hopefully I won't have to go to the lengths or through the trials that John Mayer to get there.

You can watch the complete "CBS Sunday Morning" interview here.

'But Enough About Me …'

I wouldn't be a good salesperson. I don't have the confidence to make cold calls or to approach strangers and convince them to spend money on something I'd be representing. Armed with this self-knowledge, I've stayed on the editorial side of publishing and avoided the advertising side as much as possible.

Being in the job market, though, requires that I become my own sales representative. I believe in myself and have confidence in my abilities, but putting that across in a cover letter or during an interview isn't easy for me because I'd much rather show that I know how to do something than talk about my skills.

I joke around about how awesome I am and what a total rock star I can be. I sometimes even believe those things a little but I could never sit across from a hiring manager and say those things with a straight face. I know that finding a new kick-ass job requires a bit of that posturing and I'm afraid of falling short, of becoming flustered or shy or anxious and not being able to convince the person, or people, interviewing me that I can do the job done better than they thought it could be done, even when I know it's true.

My challenge is to figure out a way to confidently and graciously talk myself up without sounding like a total blowhard. Once I master that, I think I'll end up in the best job for me.