Chiefly Musings

Standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon

2010-10-02T11:12:00.000-07:00

If I had an FB update I'd be publishing right now it would read "is Open for business" or "now accepting applications." I'd be accepting applications for a few things as I honestly admit this to myself. I would be accepting opportunities for any and all good business ventures because I need to increase input; I would be open to the business of finding a new "home." Not just a nice, better, stress free abode, but one that resonates as an abode of the heart; and accepting applications for new romantic possibilities, because the current probability is coming to a close.

There are many things to be said from the perspective of blaming, but truthfully, at the most base, we stand astride a large crack in the tierra. It is like the Grand Canyon now. I am completely in awe at the proportions of this gap, crack, abyss. Where there was love there is only utter frustration and total loathing. And we could argue it into the ground about the cyclical nature of the problem without ever repairing the rift. This makes me so sad, to the very core. Probably more sad because we share a daughter and we both love her ferociously but show only ferocity to her about how we feel about each other. Such an ugly view for her to witness. It isn't the view I want for her and for myself, I feel the road to getting on a new road is slow and we're doing too much damage while we're here.

In the process of becoming a mother over the last 2 years, I have really come to understand myself more, to be stronger in myself and my beliefs and to be unwavering in what I want and need in life. This all revolves around her love, helping her learn and experience the world through eyes that aren't scared or hurt or contracted and giving her a structure for her relationships in life. Unfortunately, we are a poor archetype for her at the moment. How can I expect that someone can love me, honor me and treat me with loving kindness when they can't do that for themselves? And that is the very problem here. And if he can't do that for himself or for me, then how will he do that for her? I see this is a problem for him when it refers to her-his struggle is so clear and he doesn't always preserver and that brings me to the point of such rage, shame and frustration that I am surprised that I am still here. 8 years boiled down to this.

And so we teeter totter here, on the opposite sides of this Canyon, looking down, blaming each other for how wide it's gotten and why without doing anything to build a bridge to the middle. I trust the Universe and I trust that things will unfold in just the right way because there is such a desire to shift this. So come on shift, let's get going....

Inner Delight

2010-09-29T05:04:00.000-07:00

I should preface this post by saying that it's like starting a new chapter, that differentiates the stuff that went before (mostly musings that really had a lot to do with just sarcastic commentary and creating a forum to experience my own funniness) with the content that will hopefully emerge here on out.

So begin my musings that are chiefly about what I care about the most: creatively playing in this dance of life and really trying to line up with nature in a way that helps me experience my own inner delight that comes from knowing myself more fully in every moment and sharing the best of myself with my daughter, my family, my kula and the world.

May my mantra be, do it cause it means a lot to you. If it doesn't, why put the effort into it at all?

Hello, this is the "Current"

2009-09-12T20:59:00.000-07:00

If I were to give myself advice as I would to any friend or student that showed up in class or conversation asking the following question, I would have to give the following answer:

Question: If there is a place in my life that seems to continue to be stuck, stagnant and stubborn, no matter how much intentionality, coparticipation and awareness I throw at it, what do I do? There are other situations that seem to flow more smoothly, where I make a step towards my intention and it becomes manifest.

Answer: That's your clue. If you are on your true path, the Current will be more easeful. But if you are moving on a path that goes against your nature, then the Current will create obstacles that seem to congest your path at every turn.

I put it out there as my intention that I wanted to see my Saturday class build to 25 by the end of the year. Today I had 29 people, it rocked! I've been putting it out there, visualizing our family of 3 immersed in happiness and visualizing harmony in Matthew's and my relationship and all I keep getting is rocks in my way. I suspect that if I was a good student, I would notice that phenomenon and think to myself, huh, the Current is not smooth here, this path may not be the right one to be on.

As I said to Laura today in our pow wow after so many months of not seeing each other, it's a matter of not wanting to have to make the decision for action, because it's not what I want to do. The Universe wants you to want what you want. And I want Matthew to be a great partner to me, loving, respectful, supportive and happy. I want Matthew to be a wonderful father to Bija, to care for her well, not take this responsibility lightly. I want us to be a strong happy family. But just because I want that doesn't mean that the Current will flow easefully. It seems there are rocks in the path often and the ride is often bumpy but sometimes hazardous.

OLD FRIEND

2009-09-11T22:15:00.000-07:00

The most recent entry in this thing, on this thing, in this thing...what do you call the thing that is virtual, that lives neither here or there but everywhere? Anyway, the most recent entry or the last entry was dated almost 3 yrs ago. I think to myself, what keeps someone away from an old friend so long? Old friend, so much time seems to have passed and so many things changed.

Nights are a new thing around here, at least quiet ones. It seems that these days Bija can sleep for her hour or so after I put her to bed without waking. Soon she'll have hit the hour and some change mark and I'll be in our room comforting her as she stands up in her crib, pulling herself all wrapped up in her burrito bundle holding onto the rail of the crib. It's so sweetly pathetic that scene of my small one, crying out, not fully awake. All she knows is that it's dark and she woke up alone and I guess that's enough to make anyone cry.

Bija is almost a year old. Wow. The first year of parenthood has flown by. I can still remember going into labor like it was yesterday, although I forgot the pregnant body heaviness which is not a bad thing. The small little girl born at 9.46pm on a Friday night like tonight. I think, at least that was a Friday night I can't complain that I was doing anything.

Things are so hard right now. What can I say old friend. You've heard it so often from me that I'm wondering what is this all about, this need to apparently choose the hard path?

one week in the Rockies

2006-09-27T19:15:00.000-07:00

First time I've been in Colorado. It's totally quiet and magestic in these mountains. Beautiful.

Before I got here, I imagined nights alone until my roommate arrived, watching tv, trying to relax from my crazy, buzy, go go go life. Well the Christian YMCA had other plans. No tv in the rooms. Like all things, you get exactly what you need the most in life. I needed peace and quiet. The mountains were my entertainment.

The last day I was there I got up with some of the work/exchange guys to go for a two hour sunrise hike up the mountain. I don't usually "like" getting up at 5.30am, but it was for a good cause. In the dark, with our tiny flashlights, we worked our way up up up until we found a flat place to watch the sun come up. We chanted a little, Oming to the morning, did a few sun salutations (hard when your body is cold, you're wearing gloves and it fucking freezing outside!). We ended the hike with a short meditation. I went up there with a few 20 something year old girls that don't yet know the meaning of "silence." Blah blah blah. Some people just hate being quiet and need to fill the entire space around them with useless noise. Whatever.

I feel more centered since I got back. The noise of the city is a little hard to take. San Francisco is a little hard to take. Every morning Matt looks at me and tells me he hopes I get fired so I can collect unemployment and just teach yoga. I don't blame him. Someday it will all fall into place and if it doesn't, well, I'm really blessed to be able to work with a great bunch of people, go to new places, teach and learn. Isn't that what life is about!

Amelie Moments

2006-07-19T10:48:00.000-07:00

"Grandma, you have such big eyes."
"Better to see you my dear."

They are like the camera lens, scoping out the world, zooming in on the details that are so minute, reveling in the stolen moments when one doesn't know that he/she is being watched.

I was walking down Market one day, and some guy just hanging on the corner says:
"Dammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmnnn, you have BIG eyes. Why don't you shut them a little...like this [he squints a little]." I laughed, but it was kinda an annoyed sort of laughter.

I like being the passenger in the car; I get to watch people. I love those moments when they notice me watching them and they turn to watch me and we connect/we recognize each other. I told Matt that as we were driving to Tahoe this moment. He always asks "What don't I know about you?" He didn't know that. It's like an Amelie moment. "Andrea likes to watch people as they drive their cars and really likes it when they notice and turn to see her watching them. She loves to catch someone in a moment of complete unselfconsciousness - belting out the words of a song with passion or picking their noses."

It's the stolen moments that truly show our humanity; when no one is watching, we watch them cry at commercials, scowl at the homeless, or scratch their asses.

snow melting in the mountains

2006-02-12T07:18:00.000-08:00

The ONE thing I miss about living in a place with evident seasons, is that you clearly see time change. The shift is nothing short of gorgeous in its slow motion speed. Spring is coming to the high desert. The mornings glow pink and red against the rocks, the snow is melting from the valley floor and the line of where the temperature drops at night creeps quickly up the side of the mountains. Soon, even the snow caps will be free from the white stuff.

This is where my heart sort of starts to feel sad. This time of year maybe, maybe because it'll be 11 yrs. ago on the 13th that dad died (how can time just wizzzzz by you at superspeed?), maybe it's just the change in the world, the breath that I feel it inhale as it stretches and yawns awake from its winter hybernation, maybe it's just that I feel so alive when the world changes again like this.

I have lists of "to dos" starting to acculumate on the desk, right next to the growing stack of crap that needs to be "filed away/" It has a coat of nicely settled dust on it from my apparent neglect. In the natural course of things that is my life, I have created a circus whirlwind of activity right before I have to pack up and move from Reno. Which is, of course, sad on many levels. You leave your footprint anywhere, you feel a loss when it starts to disappear with the wind.

How intersting it is the way things work out. Never does the future look as if you imaging it. Not entirely. I think that makes the present sometimes so full of energy and haste and it makes the past so bittersweet and memorable. Maybe today, my present will offer me up the opportunity to create a full future filled with possibilities beyond my imagination and may that leave me with another closet full of memories to add to my cache that I can continue to share for as long as there are listeners.

Happy New Year..this better be good

2006-01-02T08:44:00.000-08:00

I really dislike the invetitability of this very moment-the very moment you start to HATE your job. You go along and you're liking, hell even loving, what you do for a living. Sometimes what you do for a living is even what you are passionate about. Now that's luck buddy. But I think that makes it far worse, you know, the inevilability of the dreaded day.

So here I am, a few weeks past that day. It sucks. Because at this point, I not only hate my job, but I want to pack up my house that I only recently moved into and go back home. Home being a loosely constructed building with your really good friends living in each bedroom. Your family unfortunately doesn't inhabit this building - they are at the summer house on the E. Coast. It was once home, but now only gets visited 2x a year. You rush in jetlagged as hell, stir up the dust, see family and friends by appt. only (since you are on a tight schedule and have to pack tons of fun into this mini holiday), get more tired even though you're supposed to be getting some rnr and rush out of there in a flurry, tears leaving a trail behind you, spattering the loved ones who wish you'd call the summer home Numero Uno and ditch your permanent residence which you barely think exists anyway.

I feel like I am neither living in the permanent residence nor the summer home, but a timeshare that I paid too much for. Making this analogy ever more painful. Contributing greatly to my hating my job sentiment expressed above.

I have been in the lovely suburb of Reno for almost 4 months now. The terms of my contract w/ my boss 2 months and some change from completion. The studio that I'm supposed to be managing is nowhere near finished and my boss went from mild mannered ingratiated servant of peace to a raging bitchy man-boy who stamps his feet in tantrum. Hence the job hating day that I met a few weeks back.

It's just that sometimes you get something different than you expected. And that's what it is. But, then you get a lot more than what you expected and it's a little hard to handle. The commute 35 miles each way, the wear and tear on the little city piece of crap car you have that you actually want to see make it another year or two, the on top of commuting to work you now commute back to the Bay because your boyfriend got a job and moved back making it very difficult for the two of you. And all that would be more easily swallowed had it not been for your poor little rich boy of a boss that is freaking out cause he's paying rent on a studio space that isn't brining in any money + paying two manager salaries, but not motivated enought to get off his ass and make it happen cause he has priorities friggin off balance.

But he thinks that he got himself one of those people that actually feels guilty and so grateful that he gave them this opportunity that they won't leave his ass behind cause they're tired of taking his whiney shit and displaced passive aggressive crap. Well, he didn't. He got one of those people that had slightly different expectations of what they were signing up for and won't put up with crazy bullshit. I feel it's like I paid for a car and got a pair of roller skates instead. Not the same thing.

I hate the inevitability of this day-this hating day. I hate the 30 inches of snow and chains you have to outfit your car with. I really hate living in the suburbs by myself. I really hate having conversations with my tweaker boss that rants about how he's paying me a lot of money.... blah blah blah.

May your New Year find you without one of those days that you hate your job or that you hate your boss. May the New Year find us all in a better condition than the one we came into the year with. May the New Year find us happy. May all of the crappy little beater cars find peace without element corrosion..poor beater cars.

funny funny craigslist

2005-10-17T19:32:00.000-07:00

There are some places that I've gone that don't even KNOW about craigslist. People don't have the whit or the brains to use a community board that is free and that can be used to communicate with the entire online community from some two bit tiny town to great big metropolis. So, Reno is one of those places, which amazes me, because it does have the University of Nevada here and I've seen plenty of the pierced and tattooed. Maybe they just aren't plugged in? I find that so very hard to believe.

Anyway, I was amusing myself thoroughly tonight on Casual Encounters cause I could not find a thing to laugh about about on Reno's missed connections. How funny or fun is it when there's a posting every 3 days. Good lawd almighty!

But then I found this and laughed my damn head off. Okay, maybe there is hope.

"I love fat guys on top - m4m - 33

Date: 2005-10-05, 10:58AM PDT

I'm a young 33, white big 6' 250 looking for fat guys to get on top of me. The fatter the better. I know how to use my mouth and im a great lay becus I love to pleese my man. let me be your baby gurl. Lets keep it secret. Married guys are the best. "

Day 23

2005-10-16T19:46:00.000-07:00

Not that I'm counting or anything. Walter and I had a conversation over the BEST damn vegan nachos anywhere-thank you Pneumatic Cafe. He thinks the studio won't open til about the beginning of the year. This could make me break out in hives because I had no intention of driving through snow w/ chains on to get to work everyday-or even 3x a week. Holy shit. And what's he supposed to be paying me for anyway, not to be at work? I mean I'm charming and all, but even I know that doesn't really have much monetary value.

I had one of those days last week that had me feeling lonier than lonely. I drove Mandrea (thanks for the great combo word Sause) to SFO so he could go to Chicago for the big USC/Norte Dame game and his birthday. I did that not cause I love sitting on my ass in a car for 4 hrs., but because during our move here, the side bars of our bedframe mysteriously disappeared. Odd at best. Don't know where they went, so I vowed to take a trip to IKEA to get a new bedframe. Besides, our bedframe looked something out of a mental ward. And we don't need any additional reminders of our craziness. Plus, we bought it cause Mandrea was scheming that it could be used for bondage (he he smirk smirk)...yah, well, outside of that one night like 3 yrs. ago, it has not fulfilled its destiny, so out it goes. Back to the mental ward.

Anyway, we fly down to the city at lighting speed, I drop them off at SFO and then I proceed to see Camera Girl at her place while she finishes a BM report in her pjs with her boss Marian. That was cool, but somewhere between the walk on Haight, buying new boots and finding a fanstastico trapeze artist costume at Wasteland, I got a little depressed. Why? Cause I don't live in the city where all my friends live. And it's hard being in a new town where you don't know anyone and can't do any friggin' yoga cause it's half assed here. ARGGHHH.

But then I took KK's class at Valencia, went to IKEA, met Sause and Sarah for dinner at Hichiban and slept over at their house. Lo and behold, felt way better by the time I left at like 6am to drive back to Truckee to get my ass to work. And then I subbed a class on Saturday which went very well, and Jordan came over for a sleepover and we got all drunk on wine and I babbled my head off about shit no one cares about and Sunday leaves me feeling pretty damn fine. Even if I do live in Reno, I just have to have fun w/ it. I'm on a mission to find some semblance of a cool counterculture/underground thing to do for Halloween. I cannot let my snazzy new costume go to waste.

moving to the desert, gonna eat a lot of peaches

2005-10-08T10:20:00.000-07:00

As I was writing the title I think "desert" or "dessert"? One you eat, one you leave and one you dehydrate in. Moving to Reno from SF is an interesting state of affairs. Not a huge city, but as big as E. Bay. There are a lot of old people-not older, just old. It's hot there and you know the old folks like the heat. The gambling of course doesn't hurt, since it's just like going to a bunch of bars where you can smoke and drink, you're not expected to get up and dance and you're among your own age group. Sounds fairly reasonable and I can even understand the attraction.

There there's the young crowd in Reno. A lot of big hair or just long hair in the wrong places, mustaches (jesus, why don't men just get rid of those things) and big boob jobs. The next group up is the cool crowd 30 age group-which I'm seeing there is a bit of. Thank god, what would I do if there wasn't.

Anyway, all in all it's not a bad change. People are way nicer and way not pretencious. But of course, why would they be. They live in Reno and Reno is the not so glam Vegas. But it's okay, cause I'm not exactly sure I'd want to be living in Vegas either.

I drive up to Truckee a few times a week now, until our yoga studio is built out in Reno. This makes for a great commute, although I am not too psyched about driving around all the time to do EVERYTHING. Like get water (bottled) because you'd be crazy to drink the shit that comes out of the faucet. You could bleach a shirt with it.

We've already had house guests. Camera Girl and her new man came up from the Playa-post BM clean up crew that I'm sure will be going on for a while before the snow comes. I love house guests. They are good to have around. And it's nice not to be employed in the regular old sense where I couldn't make time to see them. Ah, the lifestyle is so much more chill.

Okay, where's my coffee. At this point, I feel that my eyeballs are about to fall right out of my skull- I'm that tired. Pop, ooohhh, here they go.

the art of squirming and breaking through the monotany of procrastination

2005-05-10T09:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, I feel kind of elated but skeptical. No that's not right. I feel elated and unattached (that's more like it). The elated is because I taught my first "official" yoga class. The unattached is because I think the making it ongoing is going to be a challenge. I am about to send out a mass email to my gang of friends and satellite members of my community trying to feel out who might be interested, on an ongoing basis, in taking class w/ me.

My first two students-you wouldn't even believe: my nay sayer of a boyfriend and his girlfriend #2 (D-3peo)! D-D is a cool guy and he and Matt hang all day long bullshitting til the sun goes down, playing music, recording and generally hanging out. Those boys need a fucking job. But, they could be out there tipping cows or mugging people. So, I'll take all that, because they are also the type of guys to set aside their wacky egos and skeptism to start practicing with me. Woo HOO!

Anyway, they both have signed on with me as my students and both, after dubbing me the yoga bully post Sunday's session with them, are all in a stir to get to it again. I secretly laugh an evil inner laugh (muaaaaa hhhhhhaaaahaha). Anyway, it makes me proud and happy that I can work with those two and that they had enough of a good time (though they are desperately sore today) to want to continue. I'm slowly converting them. They start under the guise of getting stretched. Soon they'll be "oming" and chanting like the rest of the yogis. Soon they will be coming because they are learning to be compassionate with themselves and others.
Then comes the levitation and conversion to a blissful individual. God I can't wait (insert more evil inner laughter here).

why are men such BITCHES?

2005-04-27T09:56:00.000-07:00

I know, the adage about men being from mars and women from venus (or nebulon or wherever) is true. Truly, the last few months have been a bizarre exercise in practicing patience. There has been, for lack of a better word, dis-ease in my relationship with Matt since the beginning of the year; a tug of war of the wills?

Men are delicate little flowers. They spend their entire time pretending that they aren't, that they don't have feelings and get hurt just like us. Somewhere along the line they were taught (by some asshole) not to cry cause then you're a fairy, to be tough and to beat shit up if you're mad or frustrated or just can't fucking get along. Anesthetizing themselves with booze and drugs, suffering from festering ulcers, colon and prostrate cancer and depression is where you end up toots if you don't "share" your feelings.

Women on the other hand, talk their shit out. We don't tend to supress. We go on talk shows, we host talk shows, we make a fortune in talk shows. We call all of our girlfriends (and some of our guy friends) and hash it out, ask opinions, listen to ourselves process. We write in journals, we purge ourselves of ugly ass feelings and by the time we face the object of our frustration, have mostly difused our reaction. Maybe we called you a fucking lazy asshole to our journal, but by the time we get to telling you about how we feel, we might have processed those feelings of hurt, anger, etc. enough that you'll never bear the full brunt of our wrath. I like leaving the nasty word hurling out of my fights. Better I yell at you on paper, than to your face. I can take the words back on paper, they were never set free.

I'm not saying that all women don't hold onto their shit. Some do! It manifesting itselfas awful skin, breast cancer, cervical cancer, infertillity, etc. In Indian philosophy, your 1st through 3rd chakras are going to be where you would take your pain. The root chakra being your 1st, at the base of your spin, your 2nd being in the region of your sexual organs and your 3rd in the place of your solar plexus.

Purge purge purge instead of harbor harbor harbor. Men should learn something from women. We might sound crazy initially, but we aren't just talking to ourselves all day long justifying our actions and feelings getting a biased opinion. We're polling the neighborhood, listening (sometimes begrudgingly) to different sides and weighing our options. Costs less in medication in the end.

remedy for a bad day

2005-04-20T15:22:00.000-07:00

WOW. That will be your reaction as well, once you click this link. I barely ever get to laugh so hard that I pee my pants, but the "Dancing Queen" rendition did it.

pullin' a houdini

2005-03-18T15:14:00.000-08:00

I do that more often than not. Especially when things move in chaotic speed in my jam packed life. Some people write lists to stay on track; I write lists and then misplace them soon after. It becomes a daily miracle to me that I get as much as I do accomplished. It's just accomplished with crazy fervor.

I've been super sick all week with some hacking cough/cold thing. I won it last Friday night at the RawHide (it was Goth night). I have all sorts of friends, what can I say? They come in all shapes, colors, sizes, and interests. I love that. So Viking Sause, my D&D vampire motorcycle club goth friend invited me to come out "dancing" last friday night. I don't know who actually does a lot of "dancing" at an industrial goth night, but let's just say the music isn't exactly motivational in that department. It might motivate one to sulk in a corner, cowering, and brooding, but dancing it does not.

I had a pretty good time with Viking Sause's friends. This group if comprised of his newly joined motorcycle crew (can anyone say D&D?). All of them were not necessarily into the "goth" scene, which became apparent even through all the black leather they were wearing (protective gear doesn't typically come in fuscia). Most of us spent time on the 3rd floor outdoor covered patio smoking or being engulfed in smoke. This is why I got sick. Too many cloves, too much depressing goth inspired industrial spinning and too many germs in the air.

I'm not sure why I got sick. I wasn't the one making out with strange men. Vicking Sause did-though I think he knew the guy. Which was strange but not that strange. It's funny, when a friend of yours (and a good one) behaves in a way that you've not seen to date. Interesting that he makes out with boys-even if it's on a dare. But the point is, Vicking Sause did not get sick- I did. Dammit.

So I've been nursing this hacking for a week and I haven't been inspired to write and when I get the chance to, I realize that I'm rusty and my brains need a tune up and my fingers need some exercise.

mr. jackson and the monkey factory

2005-03-10T15:00:00.000-08:00

It's sad to read the news. Sad, horrifying and generally depressing. The way it's delivered does nothing to uplift the human condition. It's sole purpose, I suspect, is to bring fear, shame and a sense of an imminent apocolyptic demise of the human race to all that digest it. I hate feeding that engine. I don't read the news or watch the news. I don't even give into the temptation of reading the message taped to the leg of the carrier pigeon that landed next to me. In tiny lettering, I saw the letters C.N.N. That was enough; I backed away slowly.

But this morning, due to the overtly large "VENTE" coffee I was consuming (sorry Peet's, I'd rather support you, but the damn line at your Battery/Market location was sooooo long this morning, it would have made me that much more late to work-God knows, I already have enough trouble getting there anywhere near to "on time"), and the extra sugar from the huge piece of sugar cookie I was shoving into my mouth, I somehow stayed too long on MSN's homepage. Didn't proceed right to hotmail, as I usually do.

On no, I stayed long enough to see a pathetic picture of Mr. Jackson, with his crazy cartoon nose and permanently painted on "surprised" eyebrows, on the front page. I had to stay and see what the utterly disturbing image of what once was a man was up to today. You'd think the guy doesn't have it "bad" enough. No. He has to make it worse. He has to get himself issued a warrant for his arrest for his spindley stick ass of a potential weirdo child molestor! Nice going Michael. They are going to send the White Bronco on out for you, repleat with cameras so they can televise the chase.

Citing "back problems" so intense he was at the hospital while missing his court appearance, he has an arrest warrent issued by viper killer judge. Of course, as the bell tolls the one hour Mr. Jackson has left to appear in court, he is seen shuffling in with slippers and pajama bottoms. If only Elizabeth Taylor can see you now! She would faint darling. You have to keep up appearances in the public eye! Oh, so horrifying this display.

Personally, I have no leanings to either side regarding his guilt or innocence. I don't know what he might have done or not. All I know is that he's a recluse (don't blame him), plays with monkeys and small children (whatever, that's open to loads of interpretation, but so is everything) and happens to live on his own private Idaho, Disneyland I mean. I see he loves stuffed animals too. And eye of knewt. I don't know and neither does anyone for that matter. We are silly ass audience members on some stupid gameshow of life. We are fed a load of shit and we get to win prizes to placate the one part of our rational minds that questions the situation. It's such crap.

So, I'm feeling pretty annoyed that ol' Jacko is on display in his jammies, that he totally fucked himself by not appearing in court when he could have just called and that I've dedicated more than just my morning cup of coffee to reflect on one more piece of media hype that has successfully penetrated through the cynicism I have carefully built up.

Euro-Troll goes to the East Coast

2005-03-04T07:38:00.000-08:00

I work for this company that's HQed in Maynard, MA. Somewhere in the farmland of western Massachusetts. The company's office is in an old refurbished mill in small town East Coastmerica. It's not the midwest, but it might as well be. Town center, old milling town saved from extinction by the tech industry, everyone commuting in from some suburb closer to Boston or to NH. The commute is not so horrible I guess. You get to drive by pumpkin patches and marshes and a lot of lettuce fields. Could be worse on the eyes.

There's even a used CD store, a 2nd hand clothing store (very alternative!) and a decent coffee shop-for the East Coast. Decent is hard to come by when you're flanked on all sides by mediocrity. Dunkin' Donuts and Denny's. We have IHOP (what exactly is International about this pancake house?), highways, lots of fat ass, bad accents, aggressive drivers and a lot of spill over from NY. That doesn't bring any more harmony to this disharmonious place. Especially since the SOX kicked ass. No harmony. We know NY is cooler. It's not cool to say you're from Massachusetts. To say you're from Boston, well, people think Matt Damon, Ben Affleck. People think Boston Public schools and the Irish mafia.

I made this most recent trip w/ just Adam, my coworker. He's another disgruntled Client Account Mgr. Adam is from San Jose. He's a weird disharmonious mix of Jew, Italian and Austrian. A collosal 5' 5' and angry of course. Did I mention bald? He shaves his head not cause it's in or looks cool, but 'cause in order to look cool, he has to. He's also nervous and neurotic. Clinical medication variety. Someone should prescribe them. If he were a dog, he'd be a chihuahua-rabid and loud, frothing at the mouth and skiddish. He's deaf too. Not that I'm having any sort of negative opinion about that, he should just warn people. "Hey, the reason I can't hear you sometimes is 'cause I'm deaf." It would maybe solve a lot of issues and tension between us.

The boss hates him. That's what he thinks. I'm inclined to think he's right. He's the kind of guy a woman wants to either be friends w/ or never deal with. I am on the fence at any given moment. Maybe it's his stupid assumptions he makes about the East Coast. His family is from Philly, but he's lived his entire life in the fucking pit of a suburb south of SF. With his Vespa in storage in his mom's garage and a beater Porsche he's been trying to unload forever on Craigslist. He says stupid things like "before I came out here, I tried to read a little about Maynard to know what to expect. But, you never can really be prepared." What the fuck was he expecting. It's a goddamn New Englad milling town. People live in houses. It snows. They drive. San Jose has all those things, minus the snow. But he seems mystified.

He's so typically American, for all of his travels to Italy and Europe. On the ride here this morning, we had Vince in the back seat getting drilled by euro-troll about the comparisons of Holland vs. the US. The US is a big place. Doesn't even compare with itself very often. I'm glad I was wearing my sunglasses. My eyes were rolling. I sound like a bastard stuck up beotch. I didn't say anything-well, I tried not so sound too annoyed. "Wow, so do the Danish go to the bathroom as often as they do here in the states?" His species would have become extinct many times over if we were dinosaurs. Thanks to evolution and technology, euro-troll will live long and ask annoying questions into the next millenium.

small but insightful

2005-02-23T15:34:00.000-08:00

As an add on to the "pet cemetery" posting..Skideets says to K "mom, have you noticed how animals don't live long around here?" She may be just six, but she KNOWS what's going on..

don't you hate it when people are more witty than you?

2005-02-23T12:23:00.000-08:00

I do. I particularly hate it when they are funnier or create better, more interesting stuff than your stupid ass ever would. You underacheiver!

Lito just emailed me a blog address of someone we mutually work with. And it's not that the entries are anything to write home about, but the descriptions of this guy's likes/dislikes/thoughts about various topics is so funny. Maybe I was more creative when I was younger. Wait, I was. I was also more horned up, more single, more laid back, more poor, more immature, more crazzzzy, more creative, more unfocused and generally more naive. But there seemed to be more output.

The year I spent in Albeturkey (my friend Chris loved to call it that), New Mexico going to UNM was filled with "more." There was more sky, more space, more rollerblading through all of downtown on weekends, more freedom living away from home for the first time, more sunbathing topless on the dorm roof, more camping, more Rock Climbing classes, more ceramic sculpture that looked phallic, more working with a hairnet on, more pool playing, more selling my clothes at Buffalo Exchange to get spending money, more hunger because I opted for the meal plan which only fed you 5 meals a week and I thought I'd save my parents some money. I gave away that huge cocoon sculpture to Phil whatwashisname. Some whirlwind affair 2 wks. before I left at the end of that year; met at the pizza place I worked in at the Student Union. The cocoon was cracked on the bottom from the kiln. I think the coil of clay I used there may have been too thin and cracked when I fired it. So disappointing. It was this beautiful natural clay color with smoked smudges on it-some process using smoke instead of glaze. Skater Sam was always trying to trade me for one of my peices. That one that looked like a human torso, glazed grainy green and white. Damn it was beautiful. Just this beautiful organic mass that took a shape all it's own. I don't know where it got lost. CP probably neglected to give it to me when I moved out and donated it to Goodwill- or it took it's virgin voyage flying out of the 2nd Floor apartment window, showering the half naked Russian girls sunbathing below.

When I moved to SF back in '94, coming out of school, I knew the last thing that I was going to do was work some lame ass 40 hr. a week job and not do anything else. For 2 semesters I took Printmaking at the SF Art Institute w/ this awesome graduate student named Tomaso, who's probably in Italy by now. Then after that I took a few semesters of writing workshops at UC Berkeley Ext. in the city. Just trying to find a voice, my voice, a style. I had plenty of material then, all feuled by one unhappy and chaotic life at home. My dad had just died, I was running from everything to keep from dealing, trying to manage my life and MDC's alcoholism. Just trying to keep him off the streets I guess. It was a lot of material to put together, to stitch together like a big quilt. Plus I was slaving behind the coffee counter then and the endless droves of characters that crossed my path was fuel for the fire. Whoosh!! Everyday occurrences ignited so much of my creativity. I have journals + poems to prove it. I was part of a writing group for 2 yrs., a spin off from those UC workshops. Like minded people making a commitment to each other to create despite the monotony that life could sometimes offer.

Some type of 5 yr. black hole followed. I moved to Mpls and that was the end. I didn't make anything, I suffered the worst writer's block imaginable. My mind refused to focus. Driving back to SF cross country in a U-Haul didn't do much to change the situation. 3 more years of constant running. I couldn't spit out anything on paper. Shit just wasn't funny anymore. I mean it was, but funny in a "you don't want to document that" if you don't have a video camera. And I didn't. Anyway, it was stuff I didn't want anyone to be able to read or see or touch.

Slowly the trickle of ideas is coming back. No, not so much the ideas, just the ability and focus to be able to create something with those ideas. It's such a slow ass process that it's sometimes painful and frustrating and fraught with envy and gratitude of other people's abilities to make something out of their ideas. At least my envy creates enough momentum for me to place words down that will stay around awhile and get looked at.

pet cemetery

2005-02-18T12:15:00.000-08:00

my sister called me at work yesterday. This itself is nothing short of miraculous. Something BIG must have happened. For the millionth time she tells me, lame excuse, that she's lost my email address and can she have it, she wants to send me something. Finally, after 5 yrs., a picture of the kids!

As I'm waiting for her to attach the jpg and send said email to me, we go through the "how's everybody?" conversation. I've gotten used to asking how each of their pets is; they have a bunch of misc. hairless critters about the house. I've finally learned all their names, minus the fish-they die too fast for me to keep up. Though I think "Fishy" has been around a while. In this conversation, like many in the past, I find out that "oh didn't I tell you" - he passed on.

There were the fish, and then there was "Goldie" the gecko, who has been w/ the family since Harrison was 3. Or, was... "oh didn't I tell you?" How the fuck do you kill a gecko? Sorry, how would a gecko die? You have to feed them crickets like 2x a week, tops. There seemed to have been some finger pointing going on between my 10 yr. old nephew & my sister involving drinking water. Great, they killed the gecko.

There was also Happy and Buttercup. There may have been another parakeet, but those are the only two that I eventually came to remember. Buttercup didn't last. I think Happy terrorized it, made it too nervous to eat, killed it off with it's nagging. "How's Happy?" "Oh, didn't I tell you..." Jesus, not another death in the family!

The only reason I found out about Happy is because there was some mention, slipped right under the radar, about these 3 "new" parakeets. Something about Greenbay, or Greenday, and X and X. Doesn't matter, they probably won't last long. "What about the parrot?" "Oh, didn't I tell you?" Not the parrot!!! Lucky for Euro, he might just escape death by relocating up to Vermont. Seems the bird is lonely and requires more attention than the family of 5 can give. K found some lady up in Vermont, who has a parrot just like Euro, that needs a buddy. Good luck Euro, hope you make it out alive!

I mean the kids thrive, so it's not asbestos in the walls or contaminated drinking water. I have a feeling it's a combo job- part forgetfulness and part picking pets with a quickly approaching expiration date.

So, yesterday, K called because she was shopping at the "Big Y"- god I hate the names of these suburban Walmart knock-offs - and guess what she found? An abandoned kitten. I open up the email she just sent me, double click on the jpg. Well, looks like I'll have to wait another 5 yrs. for a picture of the kids. But, I do have a picture of the kitty "Maisy."

They haven't had a hairy pet yet, due to MP's allergies. K wasn't going to leave the cat out in the cold, it was a keeper. Destiny. Fate. MP was going to have to grin and bear it. He took Maisy to the vet.

My first reaction is "I'm going to call one day and someone will say- oh, didn't I tell you.." K has it worked out: "so if MP's alergies are really bad, you'll take her right?" Sure, just make that trip to the East Coast to wisk the animal 2600 miles away. At least then it might have a chance!

I actually think she has better odds than the rest of the other members of Noah's Ark.

"everyone in silico"

2005-02-17T13:14:00.000-08:00

DizAstra left a book over at our house, before she and MK took a little breather from hanging out. Their breather was brought on by DizA spending too much time w/ Frankie, her new man. MK said she was getting all soft and nice to him. And he hates that. She just didn't necessarily want to hang out with his ass on her couch all night when she could be GETTING LAID. Let's get real.

The book is "everyone in silico" by jim munroe. I haven't had time to go by a bookstore, let alone into one, in so long. Which is weird, because I consider myself a voracious reader. I love books, always have. I can blow through them like a bag of chips. Like I inhale my food. I've read almost all of my books 2x now, 3x. It's not bad recycling your stash of novels; by the time I get back around to reading them, enough time has gone by that I have already forgotten about the story.

Like rereading "The Bone People" by Keri Hulme. That was a great book. It had New Zealand, magic, the ocean, pain, love, the demise and upliftment of the human spirit all rolled up in a ball. My kinda stuff. The book reeks of magical surrealism, kind of like, but not, anything that Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote. Or Toni Morrison. Or Zora Neal Hurston. Or Salman Rushdie.

"everyone in silico" is like that too, but not set in a tropical land. It's a scifi story set in San Francisco in 20... who even knows. It's far into the future. We who inhabit the earth now are looooonnngg gone. Bodies and minds are now separated. The mind goes to live out it's fantasies in a virtual world called "Frisco" which is this elaborately developed world created by an organization ominously known as "Self." People are signing up in droves for the Bronze, Silver, Gold and Platinum pkgs. They can be who they want to be in "Frisco," they can look like they want to, they can feel how they want to, they only exist as a mind there. Nothing is really "real" just bits and bites. A little like the Matrix, but not so Burning Man meets Robocop. And not so "underground." Well, that's not exactly true. There is a bit of that with the whole raver/artist/revolutionaries that are trying to win their control back.

I have a few pages to go, which is sad. I hate coming to the end of a good book. I particularly want this story to keep going, I'm that interested. I'm particularly interested in the convergance of the lives of a few key characters, as they uncover the secret of "Self" and what happens to the physical bodies of all these minds moving to "Frisco." The bodies have to go somewhere. The "somewhere" that they go provides an unexpected twist. But I actually haven't read that part yet, so it might actually be predictable. Who knows? You will if you read the damn book. And so will I - sometime tonight, as I'm curling up in bed devouring the last few pages of type before I fall asleep.

Filler' up

2005-02-09T11:46:00.000-08:00

got off the phone with JB a moment ago. Besides the usual swap of "things that make us frustrated and keep us from actualizing our dreams," we got on the subject of her family. She and Matty were in Texas visiting her mom & dad recently. Her folks are from SD, not TX, but I guess they migrate during this time of year, like the other birds.

Our conversation wasn't really about trying to outdo each other with the "damn, my family is really fucked up; no, my family is really fucked up; No, you don't understand, MY family is really fucked up." Yeah, we're all fucked up and we all come from fucked up families. It's kind of a contest without winners - not really a contest. It's about perspective and no matter how good you have it, to someone else the grass is always greener...

More than anything, our conversation tended towards the "and I have some issues because of my fucked up family that I'm trying to still deal with." Yeah sister, tell me about it.

On Sunday, the 13th, it will be the [morbid] "anniversary" [morbid to call an anniversary] of the death of my dad. 45 years old, a month shy of his 46th birthday, he died. Not one of those sudden "got hit by a car" or "heartache" numbers. It was one of those "escalating at super speeds terminal cancer" dealios. Ohhhhh.

It will be 10 years since he passed away.

10 years of trying to make sense of the thing. 10 years of tossing it around in my hands, peering at it from all sides/angles, trying to come to terms with the guilt [I killed him, it was my fault, if only I...]. 10 years of trying to fill up an empty void that was left, not only in my life, but in the life of my mom, in the life of my sister, in the lives of her kids.

V-O-I-D..
it's a word you just want
to F-I-L-L up
with something
warmer
and
more comforting

Rational rationale

2005-02-08T14:42:00.000-08:00

2 wkends ago, at a bar, I'm speaking with KM about his peronal ad that he's got on out there in cyberspace. He's been doing the online "meet and greet", which then at times turns into the uncomfortable "date and sweat" at the theatre or restaurant near you. From the sounds of it, more than just once it's progressed somewhere to the date #2 and some possible "fill in the blank." Since he never does, I won't either-since I don't really know.

We got to talking about how he's not all that psyched about his "hit" rate or his "rate" of successful matches. So of course I ask him to send me his ad. Maybe I can offer up some input, maybe I can write one for him (his choice to use or use as toilet paper). Mine may be no better -it may not bear any riper fruit. So, I get his ad via email the next day. I read said ad. I know my friend, I like my friend. He's my friend because I like him. He's smart, witty, good looking, a fucking weirdo, chivalrous to women, these days kind to small furry creatures and old people and does not seem to display any tattooes from his very minor period in "the pen." I'm kidding.

I read his ad. I'm hopeful. It starts out honest:

"5'4" Mixed asian/european descent. Somewhat burly 165. Returning student (burned out on IT, going back for a degree in Linguistics, with the intent of teaching--possibly TOEFL, possibly college-level), with a variety of interests, but mainly technology, media (film & music primarily), blogging, weightlifting, and conversations. I LOVE good conversation."

This is a good start. Lay down the foundation. Tell 'em what you're dealing with. You're smart, interesting looking, short, but once they see you, that will be a TURN ON. You take care of yourself, you are artsy and a meat head. WOW, nice combination (I'm serious). Don't sound like fag (and I'm using that in the very east coast way) and don't sound like a nuckle draggin' neanderthal posing as a frat boy.

"Oh, and booze. Maybe he should've left this out. I'm not a rich guy by any means. I'm not stressed about it, but an interested woman should know that I'm not set to provide for anyone else--I'd love to, because I have a chivalrous streak, but look--I want to actually finish school in this lifetime, so I'm focusing on that. " Honesty is good. Most of the time. You kind of want to reserve this type of honesty for, um, maybe later.

"I'm a little saddened by the state of things in this country--seems like we either worship a God whose word gives worshipers the need to hate, or we worship crap (cars, action figures, celebrities, or just plain money)." This is defintely going to cut down on him meeting any devout Catholic chick or any of the 2800 Jehovah's chosen. "I'm not super-active in fighting against this trend, but I'm not submitting to it. So, who you are...frankly, if I sound interesting (or, at least, not abhorrent) to you, then I don't care." But the deranged and bi polar are sure to pick up on this mental hiccup. Like fly on rice....watch out!

"Black or white; short or tall; chunky or skinny--chemistry for me has never been dependent on a physical type. I'm definitely liberal, but I've been known to get along with conservatives who can debate a point, not sharpen it up and shove it into my eye. Just be you?" I'm thinking, you had ME! And then the misplaced "?" You don't want to ask that question. Sybil is likely to answer. No, not me, but have you met the other me? Creepy.

"Oh, you know, there's just no way I can convey who I am in this ad. You've got the basics, you know why I'm here--" You are my friend, but you are a DUMB ASS. Bitch, people perceive that you are HERE to get laid. So, saying that, well...you just don't want to do that.

"if you're interested in perhaps further conversation, then email me. I'll even send you a picture (I'm not hideous, at least). And good luck to you and all others in your search(es)."

You know it's funny. If I had met Dumb ass here when I was single, I so would have been interested in him. Maybe being his friend is my way of getting some. I'm not sure, nor do we need to wax the light fantastic on this subject. The point is, he's awesome, good looking, a veritable C-A-T-C-H. So I'm thinking i'm going to go do a little editing on this piece d' resistance and see if I can actually drum up some additional business in the love department.

false advertising

2005-02-07T10:52:00.000-08:00

nothing is really what it seems. There is packaging wrapped around everyone and everything that beautifies some of the ugliness underneath. It' s not that everything is a lie, it's just that there's always more than just what meets the eye- wrapped in a nice big ribbon and shiney paper to lure you in.

I guess some people think that I'm an asshole. Whatever. I can be, I won't lie. I don't like to bullshit with people. I don't like bullshit. I'm a fair and honest person that relies on her instincts a lot. Especially when it comes to people. And while I understand fully that 1st impressions aren't always the best, if you impress me negatively 2nd time around, you're not invited within 10 feet of me again.

Maybe I don't trust people. I don't trust strangers, good thing too, because I would've been carried off a long time ago, lured by promises of sweets and puppies or whatever the hell strangers are supposed to lure you off with.

Last night a whole bunch of people that I don't know showed up at the house. I feel a little bad for them, because they were lured over with the promise of some "party" which is not really what we were having, because "party"connotes letting your house open to a bunch of people you don't know + being okay with them bringing their dog in with out asking. It also connotes that everyone is invited. Which is kind of false advertising. Especially when I'm involved. I like meeting new people. I don't typically like meeting a bunch of new people for the 1st time at my house. I did like, cause I had time to talk to and get to know, Mike (Greg's freaky friend, though I'm no huge friend of Greg's). Despite the fact that he went over to JC's computer and started downloading code. Fucking jesus-some people really need to learn to respect boundaries. If it ain't your shit, don't touch it.

I liked Jaz's brother Tom. He was cool and I like Jaz, she's nice-though I wish she'd tell Greg to take a fucking hike. I'm so sick of seeing his needy tweakerspazoid self around my apt. I even came to kind of like Janele who came in with Cannon (who I like less than eczema or athlete's foot). Poor woman. It's not her fault, she didn't know that I absolutely disliked that guy upon 1st impression but that I really came to hate him upon #2. He's what you'd call a cocksucker. Wow, and I don't talk like that. I surely reserve such ugly language for people who really walk themselves into that category. Wha-lah and there he walked.

There are some rules of etiquette that these dumb ass 20s something san franciscans need to learn: when being invited to someone's house at odd hrs in the morning and they don't live alone, shut the fuck up; when coming over to someone's house you don't know, find out quickly who lives there, and introduce yourself; respect shit that isn't yours, you're in someone else's house, they can kick your stupid ass out very quickly; when you go to someone's house that you don't know, be courteous to everyone; when you're at someone's house you don't know, don't bring your fucking dog into the apt. unless you SPEAK with someone to ask if it's okay. Don't assume, it makes an ass out of you. BIG ASS. I know it's hard to have good judgement when you're drunk, so maybe you should not drink so much stupid, but when you are in such a state and find yourself with the proposition of going to someone's house that you don't know, think before going. If it's like 6am and you know they don't live alone, don't go. Someone is gonna get pissed and your ass is gonna get thrown out anyway. So save yourself the pain and the other person the pain and think.

I can go on. But you get my drift. God, I'm really not sure if this whole "thing" is a neuroses of being 30+ and anal, or if it just comes from common sense. I just think it comes down to not having ANY tolerance for morons. Oh, did I mention someone was ringing our door buzzer at 3.13am? What the fuck...

practicing patience

2005-02-04T11:39:00.000-08:00

Not something that I'm particularly good at. Walking home last night I had to vent to Sause, unload on him. Thank god for good friends that are supportive and bring a bit of balance to the situation. I wrote up an incredible lengthy letter (almost 8 pages) to try to unravel the ball of yarn of feelings that are currently flowing through me. Lay it all out and try to see if you can get to the core of the problem. Better than hurling insults or screaming uselessly; anyway, when you're in a state of such passionate anger, nothing you say makes any sense and all you're doing is ranting. So I wrote them down, addressed to the intended recipient.

The Buddhists get rid of their anger or angry, hurtful words, by writing them down on paper and then burning it as a mechanism for exorcising those feelings. Better to get it out of your system, make it tangible and then incinerate them so you are free of those feelings. The reasoning behind that, I'm supposing, is to purge yourself and by focusing enough to put them down on paper you actually might quench the fires of your anger. Hmmmm. Maybe.

I feel like I'm more focused yes, but I now need to verbally get my feelings heard and get some kind of resolution. Because frankly, I can't keep having these same issues come up again and again.

2.3.05

2005-02-03T08:14:00.000-08:00

it's actually spring outside. Last night there was even a mosquito buzzing in my ear...fuck, time to start using the african queen mosquito net. You laugh, but we have one over the bed to keep "them" away from "us." We had a small infestation last year; couldn't tell you where they were coming from. It was maddening. You thought you were done after killing one, then the other, then the other, then the other. The walls had splatters of blood all over, in strange patterns, marking our kills. Insects are not smart, or rather, they don't learn. They still came despite all the warnings on the walls announcing their imminent demise.

I think I got, maybe, 4 hrs. of sleep last night. I'm not one of those people that is cool with that. You might actually describe me as violent when I'm sleep deprived. It makes me so mad and frustrated. Especially if the cause is not your honest to goodness insomnia, but M. Running theme. M has no concept of anyone else's space when he gets going. I feel like moving out right now. I just need a breather and some sleep.

stupidity and madness-my own

2005-02-02T13:45:00.000-08:00

maybe I'm just pissed that M doesn't have to work now, maybe I'm just jealous that he's always out and a large entourage that keep the same schedule as him that are always available to play. While I go to bed responsibly. Maybe it's just that I'm completely out of mind or I'm just suffering from hormonal fluctuations of PMS. I don't know. You ever snap for no good reason? Don't lie, we all do.

It pains me being inside all day, doing nothing that I care about. AW has retracted into some weirdo space where he doesn't interact with anyone else in the office; and we used to go out for coffee all the time. So work isn't even fun anymore. Not that it was EVER fun. I'm just frustrated and I'm trying to figure out what at.

Brain cells being taxed..OUCH!

Whaaaa....?

2005-02-01T10:25:00.000-08:00

Hands down, one of the strangest things just happened to me. B just IMed me "HOLY SHIT" and at the same instant I see that I've got a new email in my hotmail account from "Cooperstone Badge." I haven't heard that name since I went to his wedding about 7 yrs. ago or more. Around the time that his mom died; a few years after my dad died (10 yrs. ago on the 13th!!!). Time flies, whizzes and whirls by in a cloud.

CB and I kind of had a falling out I guess. I think he was just sick of my shit-my teeter tottering indecisiveness at _____________. Not sure what the blank was filled w/. I'm sure it was whatever it was between two people that had known each other since they were 16. Then he married P and that was cool. Though I found her a little whinney and needy. I guess he only wanted to handle one whinney and needy broad at that point.

my friends

2005-01-31T14:01:00.000-08:00

I have some good friends. By some I mean, I don't just have 1. Mostly, I have really cool friends, those that are border not-so-cool, I don't really call anymore. They are a lot of work and mostly it's one-way work (me doing it) and I hate that kind of work.

I have the mixed bag of girl friends, some blonde, some not. All of the them awesome and funny and unique. The guy friends that I have a slightly lesser in number, none are blonde and all are funny, awesome and unique.

My guy friends are very grounded individuals. They are chivalrous, charming, engaging, genuinely LIKE women (and I don't mean in terms of sexual preference, just in terms of appreciate them as equal members of the opposite team) and have a lot of
"girl" friends. Not girlfriends, just buddies they hang w/ that happen to have vaginas and breasts.

My girl friends tend to be split right down the middle, in terms of being grounded and airfuckingy. WOW! Unlike their counterparts, they flit and float about, undecisively like bees hopping from flower to flower. They are scattered in the mind-which is the case only with the single ones. I just realised that. Scattered=single? Strange.

Like E, who doesn't have this blog address so I can go on at will. E is the BOMB. She's blonde, of course, she's beautiful in that Marina girl sort of way, she loves men and men love her. Mmmm, but for all the wrong reasons. Seems E, at 34, has not figured out how to be discerning yet. With men, I mean. She's off to London in a few days, to meet MW, who has a partner, that he has a child with and a business with. Well, for whatever reason, E, who actually wants a relationship that is exclusive (or so she says), is okay (but not really) with being in a "vacationship" with him. They only see each other when he flies here from the Caribbean, where he lives. I know what the allure is, he buys her things, and she thinks that some guy blowing a bunch of bling bling on her, means he cares. Of course he calls her and tells her he loves her, that he wishes it was different, but now he has a kid and his girlfriend and him are getting "along" better. Enough to make your eyes stick at the top of your head from rolling them so hard (your mama warned you of that).

Okay you say. Okay, so it happens. It does, I know. Let's be honest, I have been involved in some shaddy shit. I carried on a small affair w/ an old roommate of mine (we were living together at the time) and still was dating someone else long distance. Hell, I took up with M while I was still blaringly married to someone else. I know all about this kind of "wrong timing" shit.

But with E, as with a few other friends, it's more than that. They don't have long term relationships with men. They have multiple and frequent relationships w/ them that leave them wanting more. But why are they then ALWAYS in indentical relationships time and time again. E wonders this and polls the entire female universe for opinions, advice, sympathy, etc. Not her fault, she's a LEO. Good lord, affirm affirm affirm, me me me, look at me, listen to me, pay attention to me. And this is what gets her into this space that she's in. How did M say it? She shows 'em her ass.

Not fucking literally moron. At each and every step, at each and every meeting with a new potential of the opposite sex, she unloads all of her artillery on them. There's nothing to be left of the imagination. WHAM! She flirts so that the sexual undertones are OVERTONES. She hooks them because all they see is a peice of ass, because she lets them see her that way. There are no barriers, no "whoa there asshole, you'll have to get to know me way better than that for me to even consider letting you get to 1st base." None of that, there's just this immediate "LOVE ME LOVE ME" desperation that backfires each and every time.

Ai ya yaiy! It's painful. Shit, it's painful for me to watch. And recently, she had some fucking coke addict, emotional leech of a wreck of a man, tell her that SHE was the one with all the issues. Did I happen to mention the coke addict emotional leech part? And then she turns around and actually LISTENS to him and calls me and ASKS me, asks me, if she has the right to actually be pissed at him for saying that.

Whatsamattawiththesepeople, eh? My god, who the fuck is raising our women? Who the fuck is raising our men, for that matter? Jesus, we are all so fucked up pulling our own cabooses full of baggage, that we have the nerve to dump on someone else for having their own baggage!!

Okay, rant over. I feel like Mt. St. Helens on this subject.

DPT and other ways to waste a good 2 hrs.

2005-01-28T15:36:00.000-08:00

What the HELL! There are few places in this world as angry and depressing as the Dept. of Traffic & Parking. There's the DMV (wow, now that's a happy place-as I slit the wrists), the Morgue, City Hall/the Court House, the Post Office when you're in a rush..Now that's what I'm talking about.

The 2 hr. line is really counterproductive. All it does is get the "people" in line buddy buddy, talking, trading stories of frustration, building up the riot mentality. And it all unfolds the same way once each and every one of them gets to Windows #3-#6: they explode in protest. There is so much hollering and shakin' and blamin' the man. It's the same every time. Each poor fool trying to plead a case that they will never win. Could you imagine working on that other side of the window. M was saying he'd rather be a dishwasher. No shit.

Anyway after all that I could only get issued a temporary Stree Parking Permit for our neighborhood. It expires in 4 wks. I'll tell you why it's temporary, even if you don't care. It's temporary, because your registration is supposed to match your address; doesn't matter how much OTHER documentation you bring in, but in order to buy your $27 annual permit, which expires in 2 months for my neighborhood, you have to already have waited in an equally long and frustrating line at the DMV to pay them the $16 to change the address on your registration, to then stand in line at the DPT and then pay the DPT their $27. All to find out that on 3/31 your permit expires anyway, so you have to do the standing in the long line at DPT all the fuck over again.

I hate bureaucracy. I hate the fucking meter maids that have to meet their ticket quotas. I hate the system and equally hate "the man." I hate fucking government workers that don't know shit, act like robots and do so, because they would literally have to explode some anthrax bomb in the building before there would be ANY consideration for firing their lazy stupid asses.

Wow, you can tell I've been standing in that line too long. Damn, I generally like people and once I got up to the window, I had no problems. I got my little 4 wk. permit w/ a smile even. And as we walked back to the car, I told M my plan for getting a marker and dolling up the temporary to extend it out another month. I have to get back at the system. I really do not like going w/ the flow on this stuff. It's the rebel in me. I have to protest. I believe in anarchy.

down w/ the eastern block

2005-01-27T11:11:00.000-08:00

amuse me. I want to revisit my previous thought about getting what you want, even if it doesn't get served to you in exactly the way you thought it would. M got his 1st wish-his job lost him. Thank god for unemployment or I'd be f-r-e-a-k-i-n! Or maybe not. A couple of days ago M apologized for pressuring me so hard to get a "real" job last year. Who knows, if he hadn't, I might be teaching yoga right now. It is what it is. Who's to say that this is not exactly the right thing for me to be doing right now. I think, no matter what, you are where you are at that very moment for a specific reason. You do with it what you will.

So, the Eastern Block is no longer (didn't it technically finally fall with the Berlin Wall?). The Bulgarians have lost a top official and the BBQ world has gained an overzealous white boy from Indiana that has soul and soul food on the brain and coarsing through his veins.

Soul or no soul,I'm putting the bitch to work at home. We have a plethora of home improvement, Design on a Dime, projects. We have art projects to create, bbq to make and someone (me) gets their lunch made every day!!! There is beauty in little simple things like not having to worry about making your own lunch.

Woo Hoo!! Househusband!!

Fly Bar

2005-01-27T10:00:00.000-08:00

right on the corner of Divis and Fulton it stands. Great place to chill and meet people. Last night after class, I dragged my ass in there to make a showing at CB's birthday get together. All for M, since this is his "neighborhood crowd." It was cool. Nice to see a bunch of black folk groovin' inbetween the tables and bar stools, just shakin' it this way and that. It's good to be in a place where the crowd is mixed and everyone just feels comfortable like each of them is in "their" place.

Evidently, my social anxiety has gone on vacation recently, because I was amusing myself quite nicely w/ out M. He was wherever inside or out and I was having a good conversation with Tony who I just randomly met. I hope he thought it was a good conversation, I could just be delusional after 3 sake cocktails. Whichever, I had fun.

Maybe I've just developed a recent comfort level with me, my neighborhood, my partner, etc. Either that or I'm just too fucking tired from having a go go go lifestyle that I just can't put ANY energy into feeling uncomfortable in situations like that. Like Sartre's version of hell, I have my own. But mine is a huge house party where I don't know ANYONE and I have to start conversations that are usually shallow and boring with people who never seem to give a fuck about talking about anything but themselves.

Like a lot of young guys. ME ME ME MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Wow, that's interesting (sarcasmmmm). If I wanted to participate in a one way monologue, I'd at least go see an interesting non-interactive play. Better than having to listen to some asshole that "thinks" he's soooo interesting that everyone is captivated. I'm usually bored; it takes a two way conversation with effort on both parts to keep me from drowing in the boring abyss.

Public interaction is hard. On some level you just have to let go of your own judgements and worrying about others' judgements of you. You just have to put yourself out there and see who wants to try you out. No purchase necessary.

2 cups of coffee day

2005-01-26T08:48:00.000-08:00

it's raining outside this morning. Around 2am last night, it sounded like the heavens opened up and just dumped water onto the city for an hr. straight. It was the kind of rain that made A LOT of noise coming down. My plants have probably drowned on the back porch. So this morning, it was dark-4 am dark-when I had to get up for work. Mornings like that it's hard to drag your ass out of bed. Your mind starts to play tricks on itself: "it's not really 6.34am, the clock is wrong, go back to bed, it's Saturday..." You know, stuff like that. Doesn't help that I had much interrupted sleep w/ M coming and going. I hate not getting consistent sleep; makes me really irritable, cranky and mad. It doesn't help that sometime last night I threw out my back and it's killing me this morning.

There are days that are dark, you feel creaky like an old tree, it rains on your head even though you're bringing your friend/coworker coffee to surprise him. Shit, I had being here today. It's 9.04am and I've already read KM's posting, laughed, perused craigslist a few times, checked my email, gone to the bathroom and contemplated how the middle toilet flushes water up high so it's like a bidet. For more information on toilets that might assist you in passing the time, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toilets#Types_of_toilets.

every man's guide to happiness and liberation...

2005-01-25T14:44:00.001-08:00

we don't really need a guide to figure this or anything else out. Yet, here come the onslaught of "self help" books and assholes like Dr. Phil and the Forum to assist you with "figuring" it out. Basically, we are living proof that in the general sense, we are too fucking lazy and scared to get us what we KNOW will make us happy.

M needs to quit is job. Hands down. The Bulgarians are really killing his drive, his spunk and his general love of selling VOIP hardware to the world at large. He just needs to take the leap of faith and quit what makes him unfuckinghappy.

And I know it's hard. I KNOW. Because I was afraid to do that. I knitted my stress and unhappiness into a sweater and wore it around, scratchy and irritating as it was. I wouldn't take it off. I hated that thing. I dreamt about unravelling it, thread by thread. And then Poof, it was gone. G-O-N-E. And after a momentary (2 seconds) bout of hurt pride and freak out about how am I going to pay my bills, I realized that eventually you get what you really want.

You just have to concentrate. You may just have to act. You may just have to take the bull by the horns and jump. M needs to unravel that Bulgarian made sweater. He needs to take the energy that he wastes in the Eastern Block and move it down South to the land of the bbq. To the land of Smokin' Herbs. Where the sun shines and it's glorious meat he sees and smells. And he is young and smiling and mans many bbqs at the same time. Wielding his tongs and knives and Cherrywood chips as his weapons of choice. It is a good dream. It will be a better reality. Down with the Bulgarians.

poof

2005-01-25T14:39:00.000-08:00

the worst thing about the Internet and the connections to it is that they suck. After much sweat and editing, my awesome post that took me many days of trying to slack off from work to write, disappeared in a cloud of cyber dust, to be found NOWHERE.

Now, I have to literally scrape the bottom of the brain to try to recall what the hell I wrote and the literary genius that was exercised in getting it from mind to post!! Arghh, very annoying.

stepping into the flow of grace

2005-01-21T09:27:00.000-08:00

I had some crazy dreams last night. Surprise, it's probably because I finally got some sleep last night. I've been going out A LOT lately; this is not bad, but not great since I have to wake up at 6.30am. There are some people, not me, that actually can get little sleep and they are a-okay. Not me.

So yesterday, another long day, I went to assist the 6pm class at the Tree. The classes have been really huge since the beginning of the year (with all the resolutions to get fit, get mellow, get with G-O-D, etc.), but really have been more beginner than advanced student. And as a practitioner, let alone an assistant, it's less fun when your class has to be modified to fit the majority. The advanced students get less attention and if you're the one practicing, you don't get to do more advanced poses. I mean these beginners, and we are all beginners in some aspect of other, don't have the trust built up, don't know how to apply the wording to their anatomy yet, don't know how to be safe. So it's hard.

But, last night wasn't like that. It is an AWESOME feeling when I can see beginners "listen" and "apply" instruction to their bodies. WOW! It's fantastic-they aren't hurting themselves. So I can go over to the more advaced students and try to get them "deeper" into a pose, get them where they have been holding back from and goooooooooo. I can feel the sigh of their muscles as they release. I can feel the energy as the nadis open. I can see the brightness come to their eyes. Hell, I know how awesome it feels in my own body when that happens. All of a sudden you're like "OOHHHHH, that's how that is supposed to feel!"

I took Jenn's class after. I can't beleive I still had energy to do that. It was a great class-smaller, so we all got attention. Handstand is one of my favorite asanas. And there are so many tricks to getting up there with a partner. Someday, I'll be able to do one in the middle of the room. I'll be able to fly someday too.
Can't W-A-I-T!

getting what you really want

2005-01-19T10:39:00.000-08:00

One of my new year's resolutions/ambitions is to get the ball rolling on actualizing my dream life. This includes getting to a place where I can quit the 9-5 job and start to teach yoga (and eventually, own my own space). Basically, if I can get my tiny ass debt paid off and save some chi-ching, give up one day of practice and get myself into a steady teaching gig, I can start the motor going on this reality business.

I spend my yoga meditation, my day dreaming time on the bus and standing under the shower in the mornings visualizing this life. It's going to happen. I know, I'm a Capricorn. I know how to wait it out. I'm patient and I can work hard for what I want. Point A to Point B baby. Very good at that sort of thing.

My partner is doing the same thing. His dream life consists of getting his ass fired from his current VOIP sales job (so he can collect unemployment), spend some time away at some type of "from Chubs to Luvs" Boot Camp losing unwanted stress weight (thank you Cortisol) and starting his BBQ catering business: Smokin' Herb's. That's my newest suggestion for the business name.

I have a vision of having my Smokin' Yoga studio next to his Smokin' Herb's shack. One can dream...and two can make a reality.

"Dunkin' Donuts" - mmmmmm...

2005-01-13T13:40:00.000-08:00

If you are from the East Coast, like me, you would know that one of the daily pleasures in life revolves around going to Dunkin' Donuts. I live all the way over here and I'll be honest, the coffee is way the hell better, the coffee shops REAL places for the community folk to congregate, shoot the shit, read the paper, play group game night or catch a poetry reading in. Coffee Shops here are fantastic. All are owned by the Jordanian coffee mafia and serve the best, darkest and yummiest coffee with bad art that's interesting in their cafes. On top of that, we have Peet's and Starbucks and Tully's for days. Despite all this, I can't WAIT to get back to Boston and make daily trips to Dunkin' Donuts.

I fly back about 4x a year with my current job (#1 perk of working in the corporate world). For me, I have to travel back home. And that means Dunkin' Donuts. And it's not just for the slightly burnt tasting, thermonuclear strength in a cup (which burns like HELL every time going down and no one has tried to sue them)-it's also for the munchkins. And I'm not talking about little people in green pants, I'm talking about the donut holes. They are the "less guilty because you're eating tiny" mini Ds. Thinking about them makes me drool. If you're not from there, this imagery is lost on you. Sorry, but it is. You cannot empathize in the least bit. But if you are an East Coaster, you know there's a soft spot in your heart and your stomach for the styrofoam (god, and I RECYCLE EVERYTHING) coffee cups with searing heat inside. It's guilty pleasure I tell you.

I think I heard (a rumor maybe) that Morgan Spurlock might do a sequel, a runner up, to his "Supersize Me" documentary; and this time, it may be on Dunkin' Donuts. And I wouldn't even be surprised if he did-because, it's packed. And not just with big beefy folks that love their donuts-ohhhhhhh no. It is a mecca for the working man, for the day laborer, the blue color guy. It is the pit stop of minivans or big haired, gum smackin' lipstick Jewish princesses. It is home. And I don't drive a minivan (I don't even have a car technically-my boyfriend drives an 87 Honda that his mom bought at the South Bend, Indiana chapter of Vincent de Paul church for $800), my hair is not big (it used to be, but then again it was the 80s and I was a teenager), and I don't smack gum (I don't chew it either). I'm the type of person you'll find at some warehouse party dancing away til 5am, doing a lot of yoga, buying organic food (even the cat gets some Hollistic Feline crap I buy at Trader Joe's), drinking wine that costs $11 a glass, recycling everything that I can, worrying about the state of the world and giving money to homeless people because I have it and they don't.

But,I am a SNOB about my coffee and where I hang out and where I eat. S-N-O-B. It has to be good, it has to be cool. Despite my imperfections and airs, I love double Ds. Maybe I should write an ode. Ode to the D. I hope I'm chosen to be in Spurlock's documentary. I'd love to go on a 30 day bing- just me, thermonuclear java potion and a lot of holes.

Attention span

2005-01-12T15:57:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had one of those days or weeks, you just feel like you're constantly "doing" something. Shit, I swear, I no longer poo-poo those people that are fortunate enough to have enough money or insight to hire a goddamn maid. If I could have someone else worry about cleaning the apt., the cat crap out of the litter box, do the laundry, I would so be PSYCHED! And Matt and I wouldn't have to have one of our "occassional" arguements about "cleaning up your own shit" or "when the hell are you going to clean the bathroom." It's funny, but I finally told him after one of his retorts of "but you like to clean" with "WhO THE Fuck likes to clean?" People get confused. I personally would loooooovvvvvvvvvvvvveeeeeee to sit around like a fat ass drinking beer on the couch, scratching my crotch and watching the Simpsons every night, but alas, I have things to do. And no one's doing my laundry or cleaning up my shit. I might need a man-slave. And seriously, I would just make him clean. If he was cute, maybe naked, but it's not required.

I digress. I just really wanted to reminisce about yesterday, about how long it was and how tiring and how "off." Do you ever have those days where shit just isn't going right? Yeah, me too. Well, I prefer them not to arrive on the day that I assist my yoga teacher with class. Besides practicing a type of yoga called Anusara (see http://www.anusara.com/) about 5-6 days a week, I assist my teacher once a week. Those are long days. I work my little draining corporate job from 8-5, walk to the studio (about 45 min, because I like to-see previous posts), assist her class which has anywhere from 30-38 students, bust my ass and then take a 1.5 hr. class right after. By the time I crawl my sorry ass home, it's about 10. And I drag it home. There are weeks where my own practice and my assisting just F-L-O-W. They are beautiful expressions of body movement and technical skill. Last night was NOT one of those flowing experiences.. Maybe it was the new moon, maybe people just suck. Maybe both.

Maybe it's just that shit really bothers me. Like what? Like when people, hey you may be lopped into this category-beware, are so completely disconnected from anything but themselves and their own progress. They bump into people, have NO FUCKING concept of other peoples' personal space or even that you have to work together to get shit done in a society. Yoga is about your own journey towards something better within yourself that you extend outwards and until you get that, you're still some sad de-evolved caveman thinking anyone else gives a shit about how strong you are or how great your pose looks. No one fucking cares. Especially me. I just care that you are conscious and conscientous and not act like a selfish brat. But people have a hard time with that.

So after an okay class, I took Jenn's class that follows. Her class was as full of beginners as the one I just finished. But next to me, while in the middle of meditation, comes clunking this flittery nervous bird. I'm sure she was there to help me practice patience (you can tell I need to practice right). All I can say is, do you ever watch people? No, I'm serious, watch them and their actions. They are fascinating if you pay attention. So this one, of the super vatta imbalance, is craning her head this way and that and looking around and getting up and huffing and puffing. And NOT listening to a damn thing that was being said. That's the sad thing about humans, they don't pay attention. They do not LISTEN. They look and are deaf and then get run over or jumped for their money. They don't listen to instruction. They don't have the means to interpret the meaning of what someone else is trying to convey.

I feel lucky I wasn't born here, that I had to learn how to listen and interpret what people meant when I couldn't understand them and had to learn how to do the same when I grew up, had to continually figure out what my parents were talking about when they said things in English that didn't translate correctly. I feel lucky that I have a brain that always sees something and interprets it, quickly. You would never say that I didn't pay attention to something or, rather, someone (unless I'm super overstimulated at a party or driving and yelling at my boyfriend). Or you would. I have one opinion of me and allow myself much slack. But I interpret all day long. I rarely take peoples' actions at face value-there's something ELSE always underneath. It's barely ever about what it looks like on the surface. But we're too stupid and too lazy to see that or try to understand that. Ahhhh, I'm working on the makings of patience and world peace I see.

b-o-r-e-d-o-m FIX

2005-01-11T15:52:00.000-08:00

I'm so seriously, extremely bored out of my mind today. Jesus, it's so bad that I've gone through craigslist missed connections and misc. romance so often today that since the last time I logged back on, there's only been two new postings added. This is sad! If you haven't yet discovered the many distractions available to you on this community board, I say you should investigate and soon. Not only can you buy yourself a new couch and sell your LPs, but you can hook up with a couple seeking to add a trois to their menage. And if that's too sedate, well, I'm sure you can find a more compelling arrangement. I have. I puruse these things like scanning through a trashy glamour magazine just inhaling the pictures. I never actually BUY one of those magazines, openly criticising those that pay (I mean really pay) upwards of $7 for these soft covers of fashion (you'll never be able to afford) trash. But I LOVE THEM. Yeah, I am a total girl, no matter how much hiking in mud I do, or camping outdoors. I love that crap.

Matt, my boyfriend, knows this about me and laughs his head off when I try to explain that I would never "spend" money on this slight pleasure. He knows I'm full of shit, a jumble of contradictions, probably more high maintenance than low (god that's hard to admit). I'm probably easier for my friends to deal with, than I am for him. That's because you typically tend to save the "whiney" you for your significant other. Your friends wouldn't put up with that shit for long. And somehow, you'd probably be too embarassed to act like such a pussy in front of them. And they'd probably kick your ass.

After living in this city since 94, with a minor sabbatical in Mpls, I've built up a nice little community of friends that I wouldn't trade for anything. Lately too, it seems that there's a lot of really cool people around to spend my time with. And for someone as moody and juxtaposed between hermit and socialite as I, it's a wonder that my friends are as understanding as they are. Well, not all of them. Some are more moody and hermetic. And not juxtaposed betwix at all. You need balance; that's why I hang out with people that balance me and my moods and bring out positive stuff. It's why I date the guy I do; he's my alter-ego and god bless his little ass. And damn him at the same time. That's love for you.

Actually, love is being scrunched into each other on our AWESOME couch, with the cat human laying on top of us (that fat bastard), falling asleep to a rerun of the 5th Element, and having him sleepily tell you he loves you so much that he can't imagine his life without you and if you bought him a ring that he'd wear it. In context, what that means is, that while neither of you believe in "marriage" (it personally causes an allergic reaction), but do believe in life long committment without societal chains and contracts (additional causes of allergic reaction), that he bought you a promise ring and wouldn't be opposed to wearing one. That is, if you wanted to buy him one.

After a few years of being together, I can honestly say, that he has yet to fail to surprise me. And sometimes those surprises are wierder than others, but at least I don't find myself lolling in a pool of apathy and comfortable numbness. Being with him makes me try to be a better person, be more open/understanding and see things from a point outside of myself as an objective observer. That's why I think you choose your friends and lovers as you do-to learn, to try, to be more. Okay, right about now though, lolling and apathy on a couch sounds great. Mmmmmmmmm...lolling.

5 Fulton

2005-01-10T13:41:00.000-08:00

If you are a public transportation commuter, like me, you might understand when I say that riding the bus can be a venue for some of the best meditative introspection ever. BIG WORDS, I know. I'm moody as all fuck this morning and feel like tossing around words that make me feel a bit self-important.

Riding in the morning towards downtown, you get the daily news (neighborhood style) from the inevitably chatty ass person that has to bother the bus driver as he weaves his way down McAllister. This morning some lady was going on about how some youngster was found dead flat on the ground, apparently a victim of a possible drive by (only guessing). The delivery of this information came so nonchalantly that it made me really mad. But then again, I got the feeling she was one of those people that were spewing whatever stream of noise she needed to get out of her mouth. Crap, life for some people is a fucking Jerry Springer episode. They have no connection to the fact that it's on tv and not reality. And they approach "life" the same way. Okay, this is NOT going to turn into a rave about how the general public at large is a bunch of empty headed sheep roaming through life completely unaware of what matters...not today at least.

So, I was on the bus and I'm mulling over the weekend, looking that the stores and people as they pass by the window like a video stream of images. For whatever reason I started thinking about sculpting and how it's been so long since I actually MADE anything with my hands-something tangible that you build up, beautiful and part of you, a manifestation of a vision in your mind. On my way to work I think I'll buy some clay and try to figure out how to convert the living room closet into a small office to do work in. Right now my avenues for creative expression are few. Even writing is a serious exercise that I find excruciating. Maybe it's about the fact that you're trying to present your ideas truthfully. I mean, you don't paint a lie, or at least, when you paint, your motivation, your reason for painting is not to LIE about what's inside of you. It's so you can finally be truthful, on whatever level, to release your truth. And writing, well, that's not exactly interpretational. It is, but if you're anything like me (and you may be, god help you), you might instinctively express yourself cautiously because one does need much to interpret what you're saying-a little too honest sometimes, eh? Almost as if you're writing as if someone is going to see it (and yeah, someone is going to see it because it's posted on the damn web). Have you ever had a diary? Well, call it whatever you want. I've kept a journal for years. And the only time I wrote "truthfully" and "brutally" in it was when I #1 didn't think anyone would ever see it and #2 didn't care if they did. But then was way back when, after the moving out of the house, living in an apt. with my roommates, etc. Being truthful, truthfully expressing what you have on the inside when your intentions are crystal clear and exposed to the judgments at large is a little hard. But I'm working on it.

Funny what riding the bus gets your brain stirring on...I'm big on thinking and scheming.. Plotting and planning..

Dorito Desire

2005-01-07T10:03:00.000-08:00

Today is the kind of day, that screams for habitation of entire couch area, watching crappy ass tv, consuming, one by one (licking from each side of the triangle) every chip in the $3.29 bag of Doritos. And I'm talking the BIG bag.
This is my one comfort food that, lately, I have not allowed myself. For whatever reason, even though my stomach is still unsettled from last night's pitchers of margaritas and Mexican food from Tommy's, I'm craving a bag right now. Okay, after this cup of coffee.

Last night, Matt organized a little get-together of neighbors for drinks, sort of as a dual birthday present for me and Jared. Jared and Jenna live across the hall from Matt and I and are fantastic people, let alone neighbors. I'm such a pig though, because by the time the birthday flans came around to Jared and I, I got very selfishly absorbed (ME ME ME), that I blew the candles out for both of us. I hope my birthday wish comes true for Jared too. It was a good one.

Birthdays are strange. Besides holidays, they are really the only demarkations of the passing of time here. I mean I guess we have seasons = rainy season (which we're in now) and not rainy season. And because of that, you're wondering where the years go and HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS OLD! Living in Never Never Land where no one wants to grow up doesn't help. I read an article the other day that only 44% of the population of San Francisco is made up of families. That's 56% on my side. That's 56% that looks young, acts young and adamently refuses not to be young. This is GREAT most of the time. Except when you're getting a little older and other stuff starts to matter more than just being selfishly absorded in ME ME ME. Like my Doritos.

Cityscape SF

2005-01-04T13:56:00.000-08:00

I walk home most days, from work. I work in the Financial District and basically, that puts me in at the far end of Market Street, if you know the city. I've lived here a long time, but it never ceases to surprise, amuse, disgust, annoy and disturb me. It also never ceases to excite me. My most thought provoking time of the day is the end of it-when I walk home on Market. As you walk block by block, your senses are thoroughly occupied with images, smells and sounds. The coporate world dissolves to the world of the tourists and shoppers, past the chess players, onto the droves of the nearly homeless and homeless haunting the street corners, past Civic Center plaza where you pass droves of huddled men, collected together for comfort, protection, dissemination of information and products (?). You can spend a while musing on that one.
Past out of towners waiting to get into the Lion King and a few Art students spilling out of class. Only when I veer onto Hayes do I actually feel like I can relax and stare and nothing. It's not that I feel the city is dangerous; I actually think the opposite. But it's a strange place and you'd be stupid to sleepwalk through it. Then again, it's kind of stupid to sleepwalk through anything. You miss all the good stuff. And if you don't pay attention, you will. You'll miss the not so covert drug transactions, impromptu flea markets selling stuff that surely was plucked from garbage that someone has a need for, clips of conversation and mumbles of pain, anger, lonliness that no one in particular is meant to hear.

It's why I like living in the city, in a city. Life can be full of promise and sometimes full of nothing, but it's there, it's present and it's throbbing and thumping in your ear demanding your attention. You are faced with confronting it, yourself and others, even if you don't want to. Some people can't stomach all this, they run as fast as they can to the suburbs. Just so they never have to deal with themselves or the fact that they are all part of each other.

2005-01-04T13:11:00.000-08:00

Channelling Elvis on Halloween

Resolutions

2005-01-04T11:37:00.000-08:00

There is a profound gift in the ending of something: the beginning of something new. I'm one of those people that has categorized themselves as "hating change." But, as I really sit back and muse over the past X amount of years, I only sort of agree with that statement. I don't hate change, it's just really scary. It's all really scary, like dangling one foot over a dark abyss, not knowing what awaits. I think that inevitably, you should choose to jump in, especially if the place where your other foot is planted on SUCKS. Then, by all means, jump as quickly as you can. Even if you don't have a clue as to how it'll work out. Life is a journey. Are you going to be the driver or the passenger on this ride?