Lori And Son Blog Utahcation...

Would you believe that I/we've taken a nearly six-month hiatus to catch up on Californication, amongst other things?Throw in a rapid-fire move, shuffling around of many housewares, some aging parent and resulting family issues, a new romance, and even some sulking (mainly by yours truly). And voila!I'm way the efffff behind on writing.Err, blogging.My total, effing bad. Sure, the kiddo and I have managed to keep Instagram posts going to ride the tide, highlighting a day in the life (or wardrobe) and what not, but turns out, yet again, I've been called out for omitting words.WORDS, people! WORDS."Lori! You haven't posted in months!" my long-lost friend Shawn chastised me last weekend. "I know. It's been hectic. I moved. I've been dealing with life stuff..." I trailed off in a not-so-convincing-manner."Those are all excuses. Don't you know you're going to be famous someday? You're an incredible writer! Stop making excuses and just do it!" he said with a convincing grin. "You're right, you're right, I know you're right..." I said in my most convincing When-Harry-Met-Sally voice...still trailing off...It's nice to have friends that even when we've gone months and months without seeing each other, they still kick my ass and bring me around to reality.Welcome to Reality, KidWhile this is something I find myself saying to my offspring, especially as of late with life changes, future decisions and what not, it's ironic to think of a new reality for yours truly. After all, life stuff never stops. {Therein lies the reality.} Efffff.I do consider myself {Hashtag Blessed} to have a natural affinity and affection for the written language. Anyone who knows me can attest that good grammar ranks as high as good manners in m'uh book. Writing has, and continues to be, an outlet that I manage to glide through with relative ease. Dating back to junior high days---yes, those days filled with awkward permed hair, glasses AND braces---I sailed through my English writing assignments, whipping out reports on Martin Luther King, Jr,. and Malcolm X, while avoiding the traditional method of orchestrated writing. Outline? Who needs it. I'd write the paper start to finish in one draft, then create the mandatory outline last, based on what I'd already written.Take that, teach.I've always been a little bass ackwards. Unconventional.Unique, even. Yet through all the muck and mire of the last several months, I managed to lose sight of what I consider---and my mother considers---to be one of my God Given talents...writing. I let my proverbial (and verbal) Mo Jo slip.Efffffff.However, my recent Utahcation experience is bringing my back from the silent abyss. That, and a gentle kick in the ass from Shawn.Call me Moody, Lori Moody.Many, many months ago, within the span of a few days, two different friends, one each male and female, asked if I watched the series Californication. Upon the first inquiry, I was amused. I knew very little of the show."Why do you ask?" I asked."You remind me of the main character, Hank Moody," my girlfriend Paris said."I remind you of a dude?!" Sadly, this isn't' the first I've heard this comparison...to a dude. Not Mr. Moody.She laughed."Not in a bad way. He's a writer. Very witty. You remind me of him."I acquiesced this as a compliment and went on my merry, yet apparently manly, way. A few days later:"Hey Lori, have you ever watched Californication?" my male colleague and friend Nick asked.I felt a twinge of familiarity with the unknown."No, I haven't," I replied somewhat flatly. "You're the second person to ask me this week. What gives?"He laughed. "Its a really great show, about a writer. You remind me of the main character, Hank Moody."I was beginning to detect a pattern here. And since I've yet to see an episode, it was unclear whether it's a good or bad one. "Oh yeah? Why is that?""Well, he has writer's block and you're a lot like him---have the same wit and attitude. Watch it, you'll love it!" After this second inquiry only days later, I became intrigued.Monumentally, moodily intrigued.Not one for a consistent cable or Netflix subscription, my TV watching is relatively limited. I have a hard time digging into a series and committing to watching seven, eight, or twelve seasons. Recently, I learned that Grey's Anatomy is still going! I assumed airing segments were re-runs but nooooo, Seattle Grace is still kicking after more than a decade, unbeknownst to little ole me. Seattle Grace aside, this Hank Moody comparison needs addressing. Assessing.I needed to know. For my own piece of mind (piece, not peace)... Who is Hank Moody, and, more importantly, why am I being called out as a Hank-alike?UtahcationCommitment issues aside, the recent move, new furniture additions and extra spare time (plus a guest account on a Netflix subscription) allowed me the luxury of research, kinda like My Own Private Idaho, but I live in Utah. I successfully binge watched all seven seasons of Californication, basically creating my own Utahcation (it's like a staycation, only not as compressed---we're talking a few months, here). The final episode wrapped this week, thus the end of my, ahem, writer's block.Now that I've got the entire series under my belt, my Hank-alike assessment is simple:What the hell are my friends thinking??On one hand, I'm flattered. His charm and wit is inarguable, and my love life is far less active (sniff sniff), but thanks for the props. On the other, what the effff? Mr. Moody is a cluster of epic proportions...on a constant binge of booze, drugs, and an ever-revolving door of women. His daily life should have orange cones all around it---he's an omnipresent danger to himself and others---those he draws near on a daily, if not hourly, basis. He smokes constantly, offends most people who cross his path, speaks the truth whether stoned, drunk, or sober---all in an albeit, adorable, witty and charming way. The ladies love him, he bros down with the best of them, and he loves (most of them) right back. Hank is a stealthy character, slyly weaving his way through life---heavily flawed, with his heart in the right place, even though many times the outcome is not reflected in his well-intentioned, err intentions. He's the underdog you find yourself rooting for no matter what, even when he's a downright asshole. And when he really fucks up. To which, he's constantly apologizing for fucking up.He does it with charm and style.This comparison got me thinking. While I may to be as brash as the Moodster, I've definitely got attitude, wit (again, dig the props!) and a do-what-I-like-go-fuck-yourself-attitude (sorry, editing isn't as perfunctory here). I know along the way I've offended many, fucked up innumerably, yet care immensely. I'm the underdog with my heart in the right place. I probably don't apologize as much for it, either (just ask my ex).Mr. Moody, I feel your pain.And I love you for it. My Utahcation reinforced that despite appearances, I'm in the right place at the right time. I DO have a five-year-plan, which includes books, a screenplay or two, and who knows? Maybe a TV show (ala Hank Moody). And I'm bringing the kiddo along with me. {FYI, I can't stop/won't stop calling him the kiddo. He's taller than me, far more attractive than I, and has an even bigger heart. So as long as he allows it, the kiddo it is.} Life stuff will continue to present challenges...bumps along the way and delays in my progress. Our progress. Just like Hank and his many forms of addictions, admitting it is half the battle. And then you write about it.As far as my battle goes, I'm halfway there. And halfway grown up (I did have a birthday a few months back). And now I'm going to write about it.Mothah fuckah...! (MUST be said in Hank Moody voice. Google it.)Sincerely,...Ms. Moody (aka L&S)