Layla's Dark and Foreboding Weblog

Normally, I don't ask for feedback or comments on my blog - most people email me directly. However, I'd like some here.

I was chatting with some of my online friends the other day about books, both literary and fluff. There was an article written in The Guardian, a UK paper, that polled about 400 men and women to ask what their all time favorite books were. Here they are:

MEN'S LIST

1 Albert Camus The Outsider
2 J.D. Salinger The Catcher in the Rye
3 Kurt Vonnegut Slaughterhouse-Five
4 Gabriel Garcia Marquez One Hundred Years of Solitude
5 J.R.R. Tolkien The Hobbit
6 Joseph Heller Catch-22
7 George Orwell 1984
8 F. Scott Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby
9 Milan Kundera The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
10 Harper Lee To Kill a Mockingbird
11 Vladimir Nabokov Lolita
12 J.R.R. Tolkien The Lord of the Rings and Fyodor Dostoevsky Crime and Punishment
14 Graham Greene Brighton Rock
15 Nick Hornby High Fidelity
16 James Joyce Ulysses
17 Mark Twain The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
18 Joseph Conrad Heart of Darkness
19 Franz Kafka Metamorphosis
20 John Steinbeck The Grapes of Wrath

WOMEN'S LIST

1 Charlotte Bronte Jane Eyre
2 Emily Bronte Wuthering Heights
3 Margaret Atwood The Handmaid's Tale
4 George Eliot Middlemarch
5 Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice
6 Toni Morrison Beloved
7 Doris Lessing The Golden Notebook
8 Joseph Heller Catch-22
9 Marcel Proust Remembrance of Things Past
10 Jane Austen Persuasion
11 Mary Shelley Frankenstein
12 Jeanette Winterson Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit
13 Gabriel Garcia Marquez One Hundred Years of Solitude
14 George Eliot The Mill on the Floss
15 Louisa May Alcott Little Women
16 Gustave Flaubert Madame Bovary
17 C.S. Lewis The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
18 Margaret Mitchell Gone with the Wind
19 Joseph Conrad Heart of Darkness
20 Harper Lee To Kill a Mockingbird

Not many surprises here. These are all pretty great books. But, is that to say that we're only in love with these historical pieces, most written 50, 100 or 200 years ago? What about the modern day classics, book written in the past 20 years that will resonate with people years from now?

I'd love to hear from you about what you feel are the best books of your life, your time. What are your non-literary favorites? It could be anything - from the DaVinci Code to The Notebook. The Time Travelers Wife to The Pilots Wife. This is sort of self-serving in a way, too. I'm looking for new authors to check out, so I thought I'd ask other people what they are in love with.

Of course, I'll give you my list first:

Stephen Kings Dark Tower Series. Linked in with The Stand in a lot of ways. Amazing, end of world stuff too. It's *these* types of King books that make me love him.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. A murderous tale set at a posh Vermont college with all the dirty work done by brilliant geniuses. Really great.

Boy's Life by Robert McCammon. A coming of age story set around a murder that disrupts an 11 year old boy's life. It's a brilliantly done story.

Life of Pi by Yan Martel. I loved this book. Most of it set in a life raft with the main character and a few zoo animals, including a large tiger. I knew nothing about it going in, which made it that much better.

Waiting by Ha Jin. A sad love story about two people who can't be together. Set in China, around an army officer who returns home each year for 18 years to ask his wife to divorce him so that he could marry his true love.

Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee. About a South African college professor who is shunned for sleeping with a student, and who goes to stay with his daughter on her farm, only to be attacked by nearby brutes. His disgrace is overshadowed by hers, and the atrocities committed during the attack. It's a sad, gutwrenching story.

The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver. A woman running away from her life is in a diner in the middle of a desert when she returns to her car to find a Cherokee woman leaving a baby in it. She keeps the baby, and stays right there in the town, because she can't afford to fix her two flat tires. Really nice story.

The Farseer Trilogy by Robin Hobb. Mythical fantasy series about a young man growing into his role as the King-in-Waiting's bastard son. He's learning to become the kings assassin, but needs to come to terms with his own issues first.

The Songs of Fire and Ice by George RR Martin. Great series, but I refuse to read the latest until he completes the whole thing, since he has a tendency to take YEARS to do it.

Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolff. My all time favorite modern fiction. Stories criss-crossing through the world of the money hungry, the plain old hungry and the willing-to-do-what-it-takes-to-get-ahead types. Everyone on earth should read this book.

Most of these books were given to me by other people, which make me love them (the people and the books) all the more.

So, post your comments here, with your (non) literary picks. I can't wait to read them!

Posted by layla at 07:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

This past weekend I went home. Back to San Francisco, that is. While New York is where I grew up, went to school, etc., I never felt "home" there. The sad thing is, what made San Francisco "home" is no longer.

While my brother J and I weren't close growing up, my move to CA when I was 21 enabled us to get to know each other better as people, rather than siblings. We had the usual brother/sister fights as kids, but we almost started fresh as adults. We saw each other through major life changes - my move with P to an area completely foreign to us, his dating S, the birth of their first child, J starting a new company, their wedding, my wedding to P, my awful break up with P, the stupid decisions made, the birth of S & J's second child, my trainwreck of a relationship to B, moving away, P’s death, moving back, standing still.

I didn't realize as it was happening was that I was cultivating the most important relationships of my life. My brother J and his wife S became more than great family, they were my best friends. Their children were the basis of what good life could be.

In late winter of 2003, we all rented a big house in SF, one with 2 apartments. I lived in the bottom apartment with my dog, Parker, and J, S and their 2 kids, C and M lived in the top. We had separate entrances, and could have completely separate lives if that's what we wanted. Instead, we used the stairway that would normally be locked to move up and down through the house. In the mornings, I would hear the kids start their giggling, while jumping up and down in their parents’ bed. They'd race around the house, and would get shushed, "Layla is sleeping!" M, my niece, would answer, "Layla’s sleeping?" in what she thought was a hush, but was closer to a raspy yell.

Each night, I'd come home from work and settle in for a few minutes. Then, I'd make my way upstairs to see about dinner. We wound up eating together most nights, my love for cooking overshadowed by my love for someone cooking for me. S would whip together fabulous meals and we'd drink bottles of Two Buck Chuck and smoke cigarettes until our voices were horse. My niece would say, "Let's go feed Parker!" and we'd race downstairs so she could go through the whole routine that she loved so much. "Sit!" she'd command, Parker obediently listening to her every word. "Stay!" Wag wag wag..."OKAY!" And off he'd go, chowing down to the music of M's giggling, dancing nightly repertoire.

I'd look at my nephew C, who is going to be 9 years old next month, and think, "We were such kids." And we were. My brother and his wife were so young when they had him; no one knew what the fuck to do. But they did it. And they did it well. Lucky for them, they were blessed with an amazingly clever, witty and beautiful boy who had so many people to help out. He was lucky to have parents like that. Is lucky.

About a year and a half after moving in with them, I moved out, to come here to Dallas. It was sad for me. These kids were like my own. Never did I think I could build a bond with anything like the way I had with C and M. But, I knew that I was only a plane ride away, and I have managed to visit with them quite a bit since coming here. C is so aloof now, and you can't snuggle and kiss him anymore. He's over that. M is the complete opposite, the more kisses the better. She'll be 5 this summer. A few years off from hating the snuggle, at least.

And, S, my sister-in-law. The daughter my mother always wanted. She's the diplomat of our combustible family. The only one who my father is afraid of crossing. She's the voice of reason for my brother's zany antics. She also is the best listener, advice giver and doctor I've ever had. Granted, she's not a doctor, but she works in proximity to them, therefore, she's the closest we've got. She's also grown to be my best friend, a woman that I truly admire for her honestly and generosity, not to mention her parenting skills. And they did that all on their own.

My brother J is someone who you can't describe completely. Once you've known him a few years, you think you've pretty much gotten him figured out. Then he does something so fucked up and weird, you have to start all over. He says *anything* that comes to his mind. Anything. He loves music so much, but has been cursed with no coordination, a poor singing voice, and the inability to sing the right lyrics after years of practice. Honestly, though, that's one of my favorite qualities of his. He is funny and fun. He's a great friend. And so, so easy to fuck with. Every time you talk to him, he’s got a new idea, a new story and new thing that he want to start on right away. His creativity is admirable, and all his own, despite what my mother might think.

So, this past weekend I spent in California. Saying goodbye to my amazing family. They're moving next week to Ireland, where S is from. This has been years coming, but that's not to say that it's been easy. They are my best friends, the ones I call for everything. I have been trying so hard to keep it together, to not be the sobbing wreck my mother is, or the stoic person my father is. It's hard, though. I know that my need for them to be by me is purely selfish, that they NEED to do this. Just like I needed to come here. It doesn't make it easier though. I expected that when I got pregnant, S would come and stay with me and help me (as if she doesn't have a life of her own).

I'm a mess now. I am going to miss them so much. And I'm going to miss my city. Sure, I have my dad there still, and my friends, but it's not the same as seeing my little M squealing and running into my arms, or C asking me about the best strategy for slaughtering Orcs. I know it will be fine, and I know that I'll see them. I know they have to do this, and they'll be great there. Shit, I love it there, and I love S's family so much. C and M will have cousins to play with and S and J will have tons of friends there - friends that left SF a few years back to go back to Dublin. They will be great.

And, it's really only a plane trip away.

Posted by layla at 08:29 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm back in fitness camp. I had done it religiously from January of 2004 through late October, but took a break for the wedding, then holidays, since I'd be gone so much. Then, after the Christmas season, we bought our house, so I couldn't really justify $150/month for a trainer when I could go to 24 Hour or Bally's for $30/month. Well, needless to say, I never made it to Ballys. I pretty much just sat here. I did do much better eating, though. Lost 13 lbs. this spring, but I was otherwise stagnant.

Last Wednesday was my first camp back. I've gone to 2 so far, missing Thursday for M's birthday. So, it turns out that my trainer has really, really, really increased the pace of camp. We don't really do circuits as much anymore. All of the activities are things that I've done a lot in the past, but not in the combos he's put them into. I feel like someone has beaten the life out of me. I have never been so fucking sore in my life. Also, let me point out that I'm the last of the big girls, er, voluptuous ladies, at camp. They've all dropped out. the camp consists of soccer players, fitness freaks, and women who could never jog a day in their lives, but still have a runners body. You know the type. They all happen to be good friends now, too, so I feel confident in my assessment. One girl who started last June has already lost 60 lbs. She was a bit on the heavy side when she started, now she has an AMAZING body. A great testimonial to exercising and eating right. What a revelation.

So, here are the camps I've done so far:

First camp:

1. Jog for about 10 mins.

2. Shuttle runs w/a partner. Cones set up every 20 yards, 5 cones. Run to first cone, do 15 squats, run back. Partner does the same. Repeat until the end, and then do it back, from last to first.

3. Get ups. Lay down on a mat, do a sit up and jump up into standing position. 5 times, then run 100 yards. Repeat, but decrease the get ups 4, 3, 2, 1, while running in between, then increase 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Die.

4. Stretch.

Next camp:

1. Jog for 10 mins.

2. Do a 5 minute warm up (what was the jogging?) of squats and lunges.

3. Split into 3 teams. Each team takes turns doing the following, with one team at a time doing each segment:

a. Alternate 20 push ups with 20 tuck jumps (where you jump in place, trying to get your knees as close to your chin as possible. Do this until team "c" is done w/ their segment.

b. Alternate 20 crunches with 20 bootstrappers (where you are in a squat position, hands on the ground, and then you stand w/out letting your hands off the ground. initially these look really easy. after 5 of them, you know better.)

c. The doozy. 4 bags filled with 50 lbs. of gravel. The three person team must get these as fast as they can around the whole park, about 175 yards. Take turns carrying - 2 people carry, one alternate. One bag at a time, drop them off, run to the next bag and repeat. First lap, fine. Second, hard. Third, you're not sure you can make it. Forth, you start telling the trainer you hope he can feel your brewing rage.

4. Stretch (or, lay there whimpering, as I did.).

And to top it off, after I told the trainer that the second camp was the hardest workout I've ever had, he said, "Ha. Wait until Wednesday." That's today. I'm skurred.

Posted by layla at 08:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)