Find out what Noni has been up to...

http://30zerozero.com check it out!

and read bits and pieces of Noni's story...

Some of you have been complaining because Noni hasn't been checking in as often as she should.

Well, there are plenty of perfectly good reasons why:

1. Noni has several deadlines for pitches for new entertainment ventures. Money makes the world go round and in order to find funding for her projects Noni has to do some pretty good tricks. Begging, groveling and whining doesn't go too far with potential investors. They expect solid business plans, fully developed ideas with well researched and documented back-up. Heck, that stuff doesn't fall out of trees.
   
2. Back in November at a birthday celebration for her daughter-in-law, Noni took a bad spin on the dance floor and broke her wrist. Ouch! Even with surgery (pins, plates screws and k-wires) 6 weeks in a cast followed by therapy and strength training... the healing still has far to go. I should have finished typing this entry ages ago... but with one finger, I'm likely to be sitting here till long after dark. It's a challenge to be a writer and work under such circumstance. (Also a very humbling reminder of how fortunate we are to be in good health and of sound mind)
   
3. Computer meltdowns. Sure, we've all been there. Thankfully Noni is in the habit of backing up her data and creations on a pretty regular basis, but not one, not two... yes folk three computers went down hard in the past 6 months. I don't want to complain but that seems pretty extreme for even a well seasoned geek like Noni to have to deal with.
   
4. Noni needed to learn some new skills. Being a mentor, teacher and industry professional is rewarding but staying current with trends, technology and maintaining connections can be exhausting. In fact it isn't even enough for Noni to stay current.. she has to lead the pack! Teaching classes like "Emerging Technologies" and "Transmedia" require Noni to put on her thinking cap, sharpen her pencils and sit for unbearably long periods of time in front of the computer screen.

   So, when Lol@ popped back into Noni's life, a solution presented itself.

   Lol@ and Noni go way, way, way back. Over 20 years ago their daughters played softball together and instead of sitting idle in the bleachers between innings Lol@ and Noni put their heads together and created some really cool stories. They wrote together for a few years and shared some spotlights as a result of successful collaboration. When opportunity presented itself Noni moved south to work in LA and left Lol@ to resume her solo career.

   Both woman have accomplished some pretty amazing stuff in the 17 years since they parted. When they were reunited (will save the when and how for Lol@ to share) Lol@ decided to interview Noni and bring her story to the people. They're busy working on a format and presentation platform but you should be hearing from this dynamic duo very soon.

People are often surprised when they find out I’m single.

How could an attractive, intelligent woman, with so much to offer, not be snatched up? (Their words, not mine) Well, I sometimes ponder that very question myself… but, as an old friend (ex-beau) put it, “You belong to everyone; no single person can ever hold you or keep you.” At first I didn’t understand what he meant. He explained that, I was so popular and loved by so many that it was too demanding a feat for a solo individual to accept the competition of the masses. Yes, it’s an interesting concept and one that makes sense given my history, lifestyle and travel… But, I believe, it’s mostly due to timing.

Being in the right place at the right time with an open heart… Somehow that magical combination hasn’t manifested yet.

Let me break it down for you...

History:
I married at 17 and bore 3 children by the age of 21. I plowed through my 20’s (an age generally dedicated to education, partying and exploration) working full-time and crashing my way through the complexities and obstacles associated with child-rearing. After a seven year marriage and a subsequent 10 year common-law relationship my children were grown and I was ready to begin the process of discovering my true self.

Lifestyle:
My teenagers reached an age where they decided it was time to live with their dad. I was presented with an awkward freedom that took years to adjust to. At the ripe old age of 35 and for the first time in my entire life, I lived in an apartment ALONE! If I thought the challenges presented in the previous 17 years were hard, I was in for a big surprise.

Turned loose in the streets of Los Angeles and hell bent on establishing a career in film and television, I learned to cook for one and appreciated that my laundry basket rarely got full. I never seriously sought a relationship since I never intended to stay in Los Angeles. It turned out to be a journey that would last over 13 years. I dated on and off but looking back and reflecting honestly on my intentions, I wasn’t ready or willing to commit to anything except my career.

Travel:
Living and working in Venice Beach California was fabulous for the most part. I was productive and active in the film community in Los Angeles as well as having several corporate clients for live events and consulting services. As exciting as it was, with perfect weather for at least 340 of 365 days each year, the gig went stale. I had been trapped in the United States (Stupidly, due to visa restrictions) and felt I hadn’t realized my potential as a filmmaker or a global citizen.
A series of events including; false charges for DUI (Which were cleared at considerable expense) a back-stabbing and power-struggle with one of my main clients, and a general disgust over the current politics in the US prompted me to pack my bags and head to the Middle East.

It proved to be a valuable experience since over the course of the past few years I‘ve traveled to a dozen countries and experienced a wealth of cultural and social awakening.

Sure, there’s times when I’ve felt lonely. I’m a mortal. I miss friends and family just as much as the next guy, but I also miss sharing adventure with someone special. It’s natural to crave a companion; to desire a person to share your bed, exchange visions and explore the Universe with. I’m fluctuating between fierce independence and a need for intimacy on a regular basis. Actually, I’ve even made half-hearted attempts to meet that “someone special”. As far as modern, trendy ways to meet someone I’ve had limited success in two methods:

Internet and Speed Dating.

My buddy Craig asked me to try Speed Dating with him. After a few days of him badgering me and an offer to pay the $50 registration fee, I reluctantly agreed. It turned out to be a bust for me and a boom for him. Within minutes of our arrival it was clear that the quality of woman far outweighed the caliber of the gentlemen. Craig was elated; he was surrounded by a flock of gorgeous, fashionable, energetic women.

I on the other hand was far from overjoyed.

A good percentage of the men had obviously lied about their age. Most were overweight and under dressed. I reminded myself that beauty is only skin-deep… beauty is in the eye of the beholder… looks un-important if the heart was pure… but, I didn’t buy a minute of it. I silently pledged to have an open mind for the 3 minute interview rotations that were about to begin. At the very least, I had hopes to connect with one interesting chap. A blur of follically challenged noggins rushed past and between each chat I hastily marked notes on my score card. The system dictated that a match of interest on behalf of both parties would enable contact via the website. After that, it was up to each party to decide whether or not they were to actually meet again.

In the aftermath of the rotations, Craig and I sat in the bar to compare vastly different experiences. He had connected with a possible 9 of 22 women. I on the other hand had selected none. He told me that I was being too picky and goaded me into picking at least 3 to converse with. I reviewed my options and agreed to contact 3. I had nothing to lose and I wanted to prove that I was open-minded and willing to give anyone a chance.
Ironically, when I entered the 3 codes (corresponding to each of the three men) I only had one match.

The idea that they might not be interested in me never even entered my mind. I checked to see which men had selected me and found that I had 15 of 22 offering to meet. Of that bunch a solo candidate matched my pick. After a quick chat via phone we agreed to meet. He proclaimed his love of sushi so I suggested a restaurant in the familiar safety of my own neighborhood. The happy hour featured sensation treats and the atmosphere was hip and cool.

I honestly couldn’t remember which Speed Dating blur he was… but, he was the only one from 21 others that I had penciled in as potential. When he approached the restaurant I was pleasantly surprised. He was tall, fit and reasonably good looking. I recalled that he was a nurse at UCLA hospital. That suggested to me a compassionate and caring type. Upon closer inspection I found him to be immaculately dressed and well groomed. And, with a full head of hair!

The tables were occupied (popular joint on weekdays) but a few spots remained at the sushi bar. We headed that direction and were greeted by my favorite waiter. He was overly friendly and I suspected the superfluous attention was owing to the fact that I was habitually unaccompanied. It was amusing to be fussed over and I felt akin to a celebrity. Then I noticed something terribly wrong… the waiter (gay) was actually hitting on my date! Mercifully, he didn’t balk at the advances and I took that as a sign he was secure with his manhood. (Being a nurse he was likely branded gay on a regular basis)

Between courses my date excused himself and headed for the restroom. The waiter flew over and asked about him. “Who’s your new friend?” I confessed, “I met him at Speed Dating and this is our first date.” I will never forget the look on the waiters face. At first I think he thought I was joking but when he recognized my seriousness he burst out laughing. “Honey, he’s gay!” It made sense as soon as he said it. Deep down I knew it was true.

“Gay? Are you sure?”

“Hell yes! Maybe he’s bi, but I’m sure he’s a fag”

My response “Perfect, just perfect.” He glanced over to see the object of our attention returning from the restroom. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give him the bill.”

I always wondered if there was a note or phone number accompanying that check. C’est la vie!

Needless to say, I never participated in Speed Dating again.

As for online dating sites; Match.com, EHarmony and PlentyofFish all proved to be HUGE time wasters and equally futile. I had a total of three random dates from my online search.

My ad had specifically stated that the most important qualities were; Non-Smoker and Honest. I exchanged a few messages then agreed to meet a fellow from east of the city. West Covina was about an hour away from the beach where I preferred to hang-out. Dude, (nameless to this day) met me on Abbot Kinney Street at a coffee house one Saturday afternoon. He approached and we exchanged the typical LA hug. Immediately I was enveloped in the stench of cigarette. “You smoke!?” He shrugged it off “Yeah, but I don’t have to around you.” I got up and walked out. He followed. “Hey, I drove across town to meet you!” my reply “Yeah, and I came here to meet a Non-Smoking honest guy.”
Same coffee shop a week later… Candidate number 2 arrives. He carries a clear yellow folder with a stack of papers and photos enclosed. No cigarette odor although he could use a fresh shirt and jeans. We sit over coffee and I notice he is jumpy and agitated… possibly on drugs… maybe crack… he exhibits signs of paranoia and finally opens his folder to “share” its contents. He then proceeds to explain that since I had stressed the importance of HONESTY (Yes, I had ranted about my previous experience during our pre-date chat) he felt compelled to give me complete disclosure. The next 30 minutes were spent detailing a motorcycle accident (complete with glossy 8x10’s of the wreck) and his past 4 years in therapy and rehab. At the end of our meeting I wished him well on his recovery and suggested he seek a new therapist and treatment center.
I spent a great deal of time trying to forget about this experience… third strike and undeniable proof that the internet game doesn’t work for everyone. I prefer not to re-hash the details.
Trust me, it was tragically disgusting.
It wasn’t all bad. I did connect with some fun and interesting guys. I even made a few friends in the process not to mention making a certain waiter very happy. (He got a big tip even if I didn’t)
So, I’m single and loving it! I keep an open heart and mind and try to put myself in the right place at the right time. Who knows, maybe Mr. Right is just around the corner. Maybe you know a perfect match for me? Don’t forget, Non-Smoker, Honesty… important above all else.

Despite being unlucky at love, I have come close to getting hitched recently. Very recently... too recently!

Ask me about my engagement to a suspected terrorist…

Yeah! That’s what happens when you date a guy from the wrong side of the world. At least he was a non-smoker.

I woke up just before sunrise and was thankful for a full nights sleep. Jet-lag, illness and exhaustion had swiftly overtaken me... I barely remembered going to bed. Despite repeated warnings of chilly weather in Beirut I was warm enough, comfortable enough, and now feeling fairly well rested. I noted an extra blanket at the foot of my bed and remembered vaguely the visitor in the night. I had been roused from a deep slumber to find Ahmed standing over me with the blanket in his arms. I mumbled something and fell back into my dreams. The antibiotics which had been prescribed the day before our departure were starting to kick the infection, healing being accelerated by the extra sleep. I had to pee, although not as urgently as previous mornings the past week. And, I didn't remember having gone in the night... yes, the drugs were attacking the bugs in my bladder and kicking the UTA.

I sat up and looked around, shook off the grogginess, slowly getting my bearings and checked out my accommodation in the early morning light. The room had twin beds and I had chosen the one closest to the hallway. A sliding glass door lead to a patio five stories above the street, (Here the ground floor is zero then each successive floor adds one - unlike the US where this would be termed 5th floor it was actually only called the 4th), I surveyed a parking structure directly across the road full of new model Nissan cars and SUV's.

In the early morning light I caught my inaugural glimpse of the bombing and scarring that 20 years of civil war had left upon this city. The vantage point afforded an expansive view of the street that once divided East and West Beirut. I stood transfixed with a mixed sense of marvel and horror on the spot where neighbors had first fired shots at each other almost 4 decades ago.

Although I still had the urge to pee and knew it was better not to postpone it, I decided to sleep longer and rest up for what I thought could become a week of reckless partying with young Lebanese rebels. It was my first time in the Beirut and initially I had thought that Ahmed was being a overly protective when he kept coaching me on the finer points of conduct for survival in this foreign land. "Don't flash around money" "Don't talk to everyone" "Don't be so friendly" "Don't draw so much attention to yourself...."

When his friends had picked us up at the airport I was surprised how young they were. He was obviously the mentor over the younger set and considered himself the logical leader. I was in a completely different decade than the bunch and more than likely even older than their parents. Mary was only 21 and had been in Beirut since she was 15. Her mother Polish and father was Lebanese... I figured he had fled the war, headed to Poland, fallen in love, had a baby and then three years after the end of the conflict had moved his family back to his home town.

Our trip from the airport the night before had been an insane mission to pick up the keys for the apartment. We had driven through a part of town that had been the heart of the conflict zone and considered dangerous even today. Apparently no Police or Military were present in that area and it appeared to be full of refugees and dead end streets that required us to reverse down the alley at high speed to avoid being caught by unsavory characters. After several attempts to cross through the zone our driver gave up and decided to go around.

I was surprised how full of twists and turns the roads were. They were blocked and littered with iron barricades, speed bumps and concrete blocks to impede our progress. We passed through an intersection that was guarded by a fully armed soldier who quickly surveyed the occupants at the automatic and nonchalant response of our driver who had flicked on the interior light and rolled down his window. I soon would discover that it was always expected that the window be rolled down well before arrival at the checkpoints. We drove to the end of the block before passing another guard who the driver nodded at and flicked the light off. This was about the point where I had begun to realize that Beirut and Lebanon still contained the threat of conflict.

to be continued...