What Day Is It?

I just saw I haven’t updated here since late March and now it’s May. Other than the year I took off, I haven’t ever missed a month in the history of pamie.com. [That one unlinked month will drive all my OCD readers crazy. I’m extra sorry about that!]

So first: apologies. It has been a crazy month. There’s the baby, of course, who fills in any available space and time as Qwerty has moved from an adorable lump of flesh with needs to an adorable drooling lump of flesh with needs who makes eye contact and can clearly telegraph, “YOU. I NEED YOU AND ONLY YOU RIGHT NOW. DO NOT LOOK AWAY.”

There’s been a lot of family stuff going on. My day used to be just Cal and me in this house all day long, and now it’s busy with people constantly coming and going. (And no Cal. It’s still not okay.)

Work wise, I’ve got a number of projects going on, including a new book. This means the list of things I’m unable to write about in this space is growing, and I feel bad how neglected this place was over the past month. I promise I’ve been writing things for you to see and read; I just can’t put them here. I promise to write about them as soon as I’m allowed.

If it makes you feel better, the other day Jason and I were watching a sitcom where a plot point focused on how two characters didn’t realize it was their anniversary. This was done to illustrate how their relationship wasn’t going so well.

I turned to Jason and asked, “Did we celebrate our anniversary?”

He just stared at me, his eyes distant, thinking.

“I know it happened,” I said. “But did we do anything?”

“When was it?”

“Last week.”

And then it was quiet for a while. “No,” he said. “No, that day just came and went.”

“It’s not even like one of us has been secretly seething for a week, waiting for the other to remember.”

“No, we aren’t that sitcom. We’re an entirely different one. The one with a new baby.”

“We just… didn’t even notice. We talked about it right before it. I know we were thinking about celebrating, if we weren’t too tired when it came around. And then it just happened.”

“Was it on a Wednesday?”

“I have no idea anymore. I had to ask you if we celebrated it because I was worried that I’d just forgotten a night out.”

“In our defense, there’s been a lot going on.”

“True. I love you, but right now we don’t have time to be in a marriage. We’re just part of the same platoon, both on separate missions.”

“That’s pretty accurate. But you know I got your back.”

“And I’ve got yours.”

one. oh.

Ten years ago right now I wondered what would happen if I started writing a web diary.

Ten years. I haven’t had any address in my entire life as long as I’ve had pamie.com. Very few things last an entire decade. I thought I should do something special to commemorate it, as it’s not often one reaches a ten-year anniversary of anything, but in many ways it felt too self-important. I’m the only one who has actually been here every day of those ten, who wrote the words and uploaded the pages and checked the stats and blah, blah, blah. It felt like I’d be patting myself on the back for typing and uploading.

Friends and lovers have come and gone and there’s been life and death and travel and huge changes and there’s no real way to talk about the past ten years. I didn’t want to trivialize the important people and events of my past ten years. There’s no way to hold it all up, the big moments and little. It would take another website the size of pamie.com.

There’s been you. All of you. And because of that I got lucky enough to have a career in writing… which, if you click the link to read that very first entry, is clearly nothing short of a miracle. Read more

Day Four. Updates.

Let me see if I can paint the past week for you really quickly.

OCTOBER 29. Monday. We get to work knowing it’ll probably be our last week of work. We are frantically writing what will be our final script. Pencils down is coming soon. We are hoping against hope that a strike will be avoided. Everybody’s tense. Our show airs tonight, the third episode, and if it does as well as it has been going, we’re looking like we’ll get a full-season order. Everything you dream of as a working writer might just happen… just in time to walk out of the offices.

I debate for hours, literally hours, about finally going to a meeting to sign up as our official strike captain. I ask other people on staff if they’ll do it, or if they’re interested. Most people say to me that since I am sympathetic to every person’s situation in the room, and because I’m the most passionate about both striking and working, they’d rather I was the one in charge. Besides, I’m the one who’s had all of the information. And I’ve done this before. For years now. I walked the line with Top Model (I would love to post a link but my archives are terribly broken. Can someone help me fix Moveable Type? AB’s very busy with her strike duties!). I helped with the early organization for Comedy Central, which led to several shows going Guild.

[I just heard a group of high schoolers marching outside on their way home from school, shouting, “Strike! Strike! Right, left, right! Strike! Strike! Right, left, right!” Thanks for the solidarity, my friends.] Read more

Changing of the Guard

About a year ago, if you’d asked me if I’m a guarded person, I’d have told you absolutely not. I write books and scripts that usually come out of some story from my life. I write quite publicly about my life online, for Pete’s sake. Clearly I don’t have a problem talking about myself. But I don’t write about everything here, and in the last month I learned quite a bit about my guard. Mostly I learned what happens when it goes down, even just a little bit. Read more

one year ago, right now.

My cell phone keeps going off with well-wishes for our anniversary, from loved ones we were with just one year ago today. We never forget how lucky we were to spend this moment with one hundred and ten fantastic people who keep us smiling. And that’s not just the Funroe talking.

brand new year’s eve

Next stop on Pam Tour 2005: Monroe, Louisiana.

Gonna go visit this family and this one.

Many weeks ago we hatched the plan: surprise the Meat of Cheese (AKA Bitter Chris… or, post nuptials, just Chris) with a visit from pamie and stee. Welcome in our new year with old friends and auld lang blahblahblah. AB added: “If y’all don’t mind celebrating your anniversary with us, Funroe, and crawfish.”

Had me at “crawfish,” pretty lady. Read more

Berkeley, Day Two

Or three? I guess, technically, it’s Day Three, even though Day One was more about crossing the country to get here.

Anyway, I’m sick. it was bound to happen, really. i’m sick in the way that makes me not want to use capital letters, because my head’s all fuzzy and i feel like i’m floating above my head, looking down. that’s the cold medicine. but it’s also the fact that my head’s all clogged up. i think my headphones are so loud that everybody can hear ella fitzgerald belting “born to be blue” in my ear. Read more

Berkeley, Day One

During take-off yesterday, VH-1 distracted me with Grease. Funny, since I’d ripped the theme song earlier that morning.

I can only go so long without dancing and mouthing the words to the film, as it’s my favorite movie. I have tried to come up with something that sounds more like something you call your favorite movie, but this is the truth. I’ve watched this over and over since I was little. Nothing will ever beat it in my heart. This is my movie. There are others I appreciate, and others I love, but nothing will stop me still and have me like this one. anyway… Read more