"This fresh air is getting into my lungs."*

   One of my favorite quotes of all time is from a calendar my mom gave me by Anne Taintor. The page featured a woman in a beautiful nightgown lying on a big, silky bed with her arm above her head and a huge smile on her face. The quote above was, “I love not camping.”

   Recently I was watching a movie where one character wanted to go to the beach and the other character wasn’t going to go because of ticks/sand/sunburn etc. And the one that was going to the beach said to the other, “Enjoy the great indoors.”

   Both of these quotes mean a lot to me, because over the years I’ve come to realize that I don’t really love communing with nature, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. People always talk about long walks on the beach and camping under the stars. They like to brag about SCUBA diving and skiing and running marathons. All of these things sound shitty to me.

   I don’t like sand in my shoes, clothes, hair or underpants. I burn approximately 8 seconds after stepping outdoors without a burqa. I don’t like sleeping on the ground and then waking up to spiders spooning me. (I thought sleeping on the ground was for people who couldn’t get a sober ride home from a party?) I don’t like sharks so I don’t try to go under the ocean’s surface to find them. I might enjoy skiing if I didn’t hate being cold and wasn’t afraid of falling. I only like running when I’m being chased, and even then I’m not a huge fan.

   The point I’m making is that I do enjoy nature and even love it a little bit, but I can appreciate it so much better from inside.

   See, when I’m inside, I can have things like heat, insulation, and air conditioning. I have electricity in my apartment, so I can do things like turn on lights and surf the Interwebs (the only web I like, incidentally, is the Interweb. Or the kind that is made by practicing to deceive—but I don’t like that kind too much, either. Not because honesty's best. Honesty's just way easier). I can do things like watch TV or read my book well after the sun has set. 

Air conditioning: I love not not having air conditioning.

   Another thing I like about the great indoors is the presence of plumbing. I really enjoy things like using a toilet for my business and being able to wipe with toilet paper and then flush and never see that business (or anyone else’s business) ever again. I like showering with water that comes from a tap (not a river or a stream) and is warm or even hot. And potable! Because I also enjoy drinking water that isn’t malarial or rife with fecal matter (I’m not a germaphobe, just a realist. I’ll eat moldy chicken or food off the floor, but I insist on clean-ish water. That’s just me). 

Toilets add rainbows to your business. Toilet paper helps!

   I would like to say that one of the best parts of being inside is the lack of insects, but as I’ve told you multiple times this year, my incredible apartment is home to all kinds of nature’s fascinating creatures. Bees, ants, and flies all call my apartment their home, but I’ve yet to see a spider. Of course now that I’ve said that, I’m probably fucked.

   Did I mention how amazing it is to have a refrigerator when you’re enjoying not being outside? It keeps your food fresh and you don’t have to keep dumping water out of it the way you do with those coolers. Also, it’s full of an array of edible goods. And when you run out of those, you can go to the store, which is located next to NO CAMPSITES EVER. 

Refrigerators are god's creations, too.

   I further appreciate the ability to change my clothes, should the inclination suit me. Sometime I feel too hot or too cold. I will then subtract or add clothing items as I see fit from the plethora of things that I have in my closet and drawers. If my socks get wet, I put on new socks. I’d like to see you try that when you’re hanging out at Joshua Tree.

   Not to seem super deep (because we all know I'm not), but I’ve done some soul searching on this issue and I think I have identified Nature’s most annoying quality. See, she’s all beautiful and magnificent and profoundly moving. All of these inconvenient truths force me into deep contemplation about my life and my choices and my gods and stuff like that. And I freak out a little when I have to think too hard. Being alone with my thoughts is kind of intimidating to me. It’s like a choose your own adventure book and I’m never sure if it’s going to work out or if it’s ever going to be concluded at all or if I’ll be eaten by a Minotaur before I even finish half of a thought. Thinking is scary and it makes me question my general state of being. Nature forces that on me, because it doesn’t distract me with its beauty the way a good book or movie or shopping trip does; it forces me to be present and to contemplate the moment.

   I really don’t like contemplating the moment.

   But there are exceptions.

   I like driving on the Pacific Coast Highway in the morning (before traffic) with the windows down and some great Led Zeppelin or Hall and Oates playing on the 8-track.

   I like reaching the top of a hill during a rough, heinous, sweaty, nauseating hike and then turning around to see how far I’ve come. Sometimes, on a clear day, you can see all the way to the goddamn ocean.

   I like the view from any given point of the rim of the Grand Canyon.

   I like watching the movie Jaws. Sharks are terrible, but Jaws is perfection.

   I like sitting around a campfire, especially in Tom and Jess’s** backyard. I even like the way I stink like fire smoke and their Boston terriers for days afterwards. (I'm sure if I showered more often with my precious plumbing this wouldn't be an issue.)

   I love sledding. The walk back up the hill sucks, but what are you gonna do? (Sledding = opposite of hiking?)

   I like most animals.

   I really like the moon. (From a distance! I don’t want to go there! NEVER!!!)

   I love elements of nature, no doubt. I was an outdoor kid growing up, with a box full of locust shells, constant skinned knees, and a bike that doubled as a horse. But nowadays I’m perfectly fine with my inside status.

   I just love not camping. It just feels right.

Right on! (Anne Taintor)

*From Jeeves and Wooster. One of the best comedy series (or any kind of series) ever made. Hugh Laurie plays a British person and his accent is REALLY BELIEVABLE! (J/K. It's not that believable.)

**Who just got engaged last night!!! I love them!!

"Sometimes I think I'd like to boldly go where no man has gone before. But I'll probably just stay in Aurora."*

       I had it in my head to write THE BEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME. I worked it out and talked about it a lot (a sure sign you’re not writing anything is to talk about it a lot). It would be an action-adventure/sci-fi/romantic comedy (all my favorite genres in one, if you will) and it would by turns leave people writhing in fear, mind-boggled by scientific innovations the like of which they’d never seen and chuckling about how women and men just don’t GET each other.

        It was going to be called Shiders in Space and it was going to blow America’s mind. And then it would go on to blow all the minds in Europe and Asia. And then South America. Africa? Probably not. They have bigger fish to fry (pun intended, as you will soon see). And, oh shit, Australia. I didn't even think of them. Oh well, it probably doesn't matter.

        My movie was about a combination of my three biggest fears in life: sharks, spiders and space. The three “S's”, if you will.  (But if I were to describe my biggest fears in order from most fearsome to least it would be: sharks, space and then spiders. But it doesn’t sound as good written out that way.)

        So here’s the story: it’s NASA’s last space mission, the summer of 2011. A bunch of sexy, quirky, funny and lovably neurotic astronauts head into the Final Frontier to see if they can’t rehabilitate a space station built in the 60’s. Problem is, the space station is haunted. BY SHIDERS!!!!!!!!

        I drew a picture so you could see what a Shider looks like:

Okay, I'm not an artist, but you get the gist.

        It’s essentially a shark with spider legs and the spider legs ALSO have spider legs, so it’s extra gross. Aside from the spider’s nasty, bulbous backside, the most heinous thing about a spider is its eight hairy legs. And the way it just falls down from the ceiling when you’re trying to kill it.

        But here are the main reasons a Shider would be the worst nemesis of anyone on the face of Planet Earth, or in the Galaxy, for that matter.

1.     Shiders can live in the ocean, on land or IN SPACE. There’s nowhere you can go to be rid of them. Think about how "evolution" (still don't buy it, so let's just say, alternatively, GOD) has provided us with the Kangaroo, the Tasmanian Devil and the Lemur: all species that evolved (were created by our Lord) when left on islands and unable to reproduce with other, normal animals. But then multiply it by a trillion, add gills AND lungs AND space helmets. There’s no stopping these beasts!

2.     A shider has the skills of the spider and the bite of the shark. Maybe it’s fair to say that not everyone is afraid of spiders. But a lot of us are, and it’s not just because they look disgusting and bite you when you’re sleeping. A lot of it has to do with the way they seem to be able to leap from tall places and virtually disappear from view the second they see you coming with, ironically, your rolled up issue of The National Geographic. (Just because you read The National Geographic does not mean you want nature and anthropological specimens invading your home! And, if we're being super honest, we should probably admit that we only subscribe to The National Geographic to seem literate, but really we like it because usually there are chicks with weird piercings and bare breasts featured.)

            But then add the fact that even if you jumped in the  pool or THE OCEAN, a shider  would still be able to find you and it has horrendous, monster teeth and a (nearly) blind stare. It can smell your fear, it can out swim you, and it will eat your legs off while thinking about what to buy its wife for Valentine’s Day.
And even if you make it out of the water and onto the beach or poolside, etc, it can still follow you because it has LEGS! Anywhere from 8 to 64 of them! (Actually, I think it's 64 plus 8, because each leg has eight legs, but then you have to count the original legs...)

3.     Shiders also live in space. I don’t know how much you’ve thought about it, but space is terrible. There’s no oxygen, no gravity, and no one can hear you scream (mostly because there’s no oxygen or gravity). There are black holes all around and there’s a good chance that if you go up there, you won’t be coming back. Or if you do make it back, it will be one of the most heroic things you or I or the United States or the WORLD will have ever seen. But there still will have been that moment (or those days, weeks, months, years) when you were drinking Tang and peeing into a bag and you wondered what it was all about. Some people want to boldly go where no man has gone before, but I’m definitely not one of those people. (It also occurs to me that you might come back from space and it will be like The Flight of the Navigator: your parents will be old and totally freaked out that you’re still 10, and completely unwilling to accept the fact that you fell into a time warp. But hell, you can't control that kind of shit!)

4.     Shiders are clearly adaptable, and what does that say about our (human beings, that is) future as the self-appointed manipulators of the universe? If something can incorporate gills, eight legs (or in this case, 64 legs--maybe 72 legs?), and the ability to survive in space, we’re clearly doomed as a species. I don’t really want to think about the implications. I’m still crying about Joey in The Flight of the Navigator. That dude missed everything.

       Okay, that’s all I’m going to say for now about Shiders in Space. I thought it would make a great screenplay, but then I saw Sharktopus, Two-Headed Shark, and even Mega-Shark Vs. Giant Octopus (though I didn't watch the sequel, Mega Shark Vs. Crocosaurus because, seriously? I have a life, here.) and I think the genre of weird shark-hybrid is a little played-out.

       I still think my villain is the scariest, because it plays on all MY worst fears, but I have too much pride to sell it as a screenplay. But if I did ever make the movie, here are some potential taglines:

“Houston, we’ve got a shider.”

OR:

“In space, no one can hear you scream.”

And my favorite:

“Just when you thought it was safe to return to the abandoned space station...”

 *Quote from Wayne's World (Penelope Spheeris, 1992). Oh, man, I've never changed my title quote after publishing, but Emily reminded me that Wayne's World generally has the best quotes about everything. (For example, this.)