April 30, 2008
Gunna Get My Meek On
I am in for an ego obliterating experience. **Derek “Stormy” Waters voice** Know how I knew?
I keep encountering these amazing people online - radical peeps who share similar goals and values - and finding all these ways that I am “doing better”. *long slow whistle, shiftin’ in my seat* Uh, yah. But I’m human. I falter. There’s no way I can stay on this high horse for long. I can sort of see the reckoning in the distance, if I squint, but I don’t so I’m mostly trying to prepare…
There’s this couple that came to lead worship at my church a couple times. They are so… gah, just such beautiful, sweet, honest hippies trying to do their best. They have a baby, 18 months. Since his birth, their focus and “achievements” seem to have slipped. (A very common occurrence for new parents, possibly inevitable, I gather.) They are still AMAZING people, and I am in awe of their art and lives… and yet, I can still easily work up a little lip curl when I read about how he ate at McDonald’s or they shopped at a mega store. I’m glad I’m putting this to words. It’s pretty impossible to ignore what an asshole I am being.
What the fuck is it that allows this mental disconnect? I GET that we’re all flawed humans, and that I’m no better or worse than anyone… and yet I still strive for something near perfection. It’s like my challenge to the world. “Just cuz y’all will settle doesn’t mean I will. Watch, I’ll show you how close to perfect we humans can be, so pay attention…” Sean and I call it efficiency. This is one of MY WORDS. I joke that someday I will get the cliched Old English lettered stomach or back tattoo of “value” or “efficiency”. They’re beautiful concepts to me. Utilitarian. Ahimsa: the greatest good and the least harm. This is what makes me feel that zero waste and a neutral carbon footprint are totally do-able… in my lifetime. But something’s not really clicking in me so that my ego shuts up and applauds all effort without simultaneously judging it. Yes, congrats on remembering to bring your cloth bags to the store, but your hybrid in the parking lot still only gets 45MPG. Fucking foreign economy cars were doing that before hybrids existed, remember? And that’s still miles per gallon of PETROL. *facepalm* See, cuz my scooter, 80MPG or not, still runs on gas, and my backup vehicle is a God-awful gas guzzler that’s almost as old as my parents. But I’m the “better person”?
Sketch comedy is so perfect a medium for me. Ready for pithy, pissy observations, laced with derision. Gag PSAs are actually our focus over here. We have these years-long lists that we add to when we come up with a new, clever way of teaching/mocking “wrong” things. OK, one example… the food “chain”. Sigh. Think 50’s science film, dude in a lab coat, thick black glasses, short dippety-do quaff, and impenetrable deadpan. Black and white time-pocked film with the beeps in-between sections. Long wooden pointer at the ready, Mr. Scientist (who probably just works QC at Dupont) taps the appropriate section of the large chalk drawing behind him. “You see, the plants are at the bottom.” *board tap* “Animals are the second link in the chain and they eat the plants.” *board tap* “Then there’s us, humans.” *proud smile* “We eat the animals.” *looks at board for next step where humans and plants interact, closing the “chain”. His smile vanishes. He looks nervously at the camera for a few seconds, unsure what to say.* (I can’t decide if I want to break convention and go stupid here, showing a casket that makes it impossible for even a human’s remains to be a part of the circle of life, or just leave it open ended.) Cut to a shot of a happy family devouring steak breakfasts or something and a voice over summarizing “That’s how science works kiddies; be part of the food chain and eat an animal right now!” Gah, I need a better final line, but yah. Food chain is a joke and rather than just saying it, I’d always rather make a caricature of it and make people see that ridiculousness for themselves.
In summary, could I be a bigger jive turkey?
permalink
April 16, 2008
Commitment to My Progress
K, there’s more than a few things that I have drafted to write about in here, but I gotta prioritize and go with my gut. My gut says talk about the following…
I saw a blog post recently where this very awesome person mentioned her visual way of tracking her progress. Insert photo of her last month’s calendar, where each day had a large “clean & sober” sticker on it. Wow, I didn’t know they had those. Seeing the photo made me realize how quiet I have been about it. That’s always been my way when I stop drinking for a while. Mum’s the word, outta sight and outta mind. In the past I can see that this was a way to avoid keeping sobriety permanent. I never made a note of the day that I stopped/started either. If I didn’t tell anybody that I was trying to stay clean, nobody could call me on it when they found a drink in my hand! And that’s exactly how the yo-yo has gone since I started drinking in earnest in 1995. It has actually worked well for me this time around because it’s forced me to live into the idea that I must be in control of my thoughts. When I start to think about booze, I immediately tell myself “sorry but that’s 100% not part of my reality right now” and the thought generally disappears. Tight ship, baby. Nothing has leaked in yet. But having Sean to be my accountability partner has been very helpful. I feel that being more honest about it will also be helpful in the long run. I hate to look bad and go back on my word. It’s not the most holistic method of improving one’s life, but the possible embarrassment and shame of showing everyone my failure is a strong motivator… I’m almost 4 months without a drop of alcohol!
Another hard line I’ve taken with myself is probably only 2 weeks solid thus far. Again, I never write down dates because I don’t want to face the failure if I fuck up. Anyway, I’m off celebrity culture. OFF, OMG OFF FOREVER. I never cared for it, but when I got bored I would allow myself to go to a couple sites and just let my eyes glaze over as I mindlessly scrolled through the gossip. Damn, that was hard to admit. I couldn’t understand why I would do that, when consciously I believe that the celebrity culture is poison and don’t even watch or own a TV. In retrospect, just 2 little weeks away from it, I think I can see the lure. It was that mindlessness and the continual updates. No other sites that I visit are updated that quickly. Green news and craftivism and art just aren’t the commodities that the entertainment industry produces. (Or rather, they aren’t valued as such just yet. I see the shift, though. What was once labeled stupid hippie shit is now available in slickly designed packages at your local Target.) And absorbing the antics of someone else’s unfathomably wealthy and unconscious lifestyle does not take any effort. After a hard day’s coding, I could just stare and scroll and shake my head until I was even more bored and had to close the browser tab. See, words are powerful! Even though I’ve been thinking about this lately, seeing the words really rams the point home. I was just making the same bad choice over and over, and there’s no excuse for it and nothing good came from that. So that chapter is done in my life. I look forward to the day when I go to Muxtape and don’t tell Sean “I only heard of this band because some guy in it was dating a ’supermodel’ and then he got caught doing a fuckload of drugs over and over”. Besides, I still hear snippets about entertainers who are using their fame to promote awesome change. Natalie and Alicia could fill a book with their efforts.
So this is my calendar, filled with invisible stickers that proclaim my victory over habits that brought me down. I make the choice again every day to keep drinking and gossip where they belong: as chapters in my life that are over for good. BAM.
permalink
March 20, 2008
This is Right and True
Development of Habit. Proper Perspective. These things change us. They have changed me.
T’was a time when all was habitually perceived as bleak. On more than a few occasions this is still true. However, on the whole, this is no longer the case. The more time passes, I see the balance shift in favor of positivity and good habits. Most of the time- and this is a reminder to self- I feel ALIVE and abuzz with endless possibilities. All throughout the day, I am writing and typing and actually working on ideas. It feels wonderful. The way I think life is supposed to feel. Like an expansive candy store. But more than that, too. In those times of feeling like a repository for genius plans, I also feel something unifying that connects me and everything else. The Blanket Thing, as I Heart Huckabees phrased it. Isn’t that interesting? And encouraging? In the recently read Deathhunter, the main character spoke of feeling an “oceanic unity” when he almost drowned as a child. The phrase was repeated throughout the story, and has stuck with me. It was a bliss not known in normal life; one that hinted at the perfection that lay just ahead. I wonder if humans experience these feelings of oneness when they are on the trail of something absolutely right and true. Hah, another phrase I have taken to using a lot lately. I tell Sean, “It may seen indulgent, but I am positive that those mountain of cookies we just ate were right and true so I regret nothing.” My, but that sounds far out of context. It just means A #1 appropriate truth that couldn’t be any other way.
And so today I celebrate having a brain that works so fervently to push boundaries and create things that are authentic. I can scarcely begin a sliver of the projects that I imagine, but that’s what all the years ahead of me are for. Chip away every day: this is my newly discovered joy.
permalink
March 15, 2008
Can I Adopt an Old Person?
Sometimes it’s almost like a movie how my consciousness zooms back for a wide shot and gets a glance at the Big Picture. But it goes fuzzy fast. Realizations lose their magnitude in the face of daily realities. They face off with other realizations, testing one another’s mettle.
I’m playing solitaire this Saturday morning in an obvious attempt to stay at the outskirts of genuine thought. It’s been a laughable morning of trying to stay off the Internet, clicking a few things and getting searches lined up for when this period of quasi-reflection is over. It never ceases to amaze me how much modern life (aka: how shit be) stifles that necessary skill and need of quiet evaluation. When was the last time any of us took 30 minutes to just be still and listen?
Oh irony, I’ve won a game. I rarely win anymore now that I’m about 4 years out of practice from 8 hour days of playing it in an office environment. Solitaire probably saved me from slitting throats. And years before that, hours of majong made the “making ugly shit on an old mac” portion of my Graphic Design training bearable. Well, I did make that talking donut graphic…
So sometimes I see glimpses of answers that touch everything. They are brief and brilliant and inspiring and scary and sometimes feel that they truly do touch every molecule of existence. They come more frequently the older I get (although I’m quite aware that it could be a, well, awareness thing versus just time passing) and that makes me wonder how older people handle their realizations. Truths like there are no 2nd hand revelations, some people must make their own mistakes, and you can’t substitute anything for age and experience… these make me wonder if many older people (what exactly “older” is, I haven’t decided today, but I’m picturing rest homes) are sitting on their realizations for those very reasons. Youth can not become wise without traveling the road themselves, therefore we elders must unfortunately watch them make their ‘glorious mistakes’. Is this it? Are adults that have learned their arse from their elbow actually chock-full of solutions that they believe youth would not be ready for? *shakes head violently* Surely people are learning truths that could “fix it all up there”, right? Oh, I must believe that age can bring wisdom otherwise my career as a misanthrope will continue forever. And yet, if our elders do have some answers, and yet do not share, do not commit themselves to imparting what they can on us stupid youngins, then… Well, first what can we do to change that, and second, why does everything I contemplate end in me hating everyone and everything? Anger seems to be at the root of everything that I do, I am ashamed to say. And yet I commit it to writing because I hope that improvement will follow confession. Oh, my head and heart are heavy today.
I wonder, but don’t think long enough, about what makes me leave certain entries pubic versus password protected. I will get an answer today before I publish this. It feels important not to keep this one squirreled away with my rants and tears.
The habit of journaling was just that, years ago. It started in childhood when I was sent to my room (which felt like all the time), and really blossomed in junior and high school, as I wrote instead of speaking with my peers. In 7th grade, during a sad “computer class” with monochrome macs, I vividly remember writing a letter to Jesus because the other kids seemed to be one big clique that wouldn’t include the weird homeschooled girl. I’d never written to him before, but it was all I could think of doing as I died a bit inside. Sitting alone, silently and with nothing to do because I always finished my work quickly (unhampered by conversation), I heard them start to whisper about me. I flipped over the red worksheet that I had been given and started “Dear J.C.” and basically tried to pray/write my way through their alienating comments for the rest of the period. It was easy. It flowed. In 12th grade, (when I was in remedial everything because of Michigan-to-California graduation requirement differences, thanks for fucking nothing Michigan) the case was repeated again. I’d already spent 2 years hiding my way through high school in Michigan, writing stories and journal entries during all that “downtime” in class where the popular kids sat behind me and talked about getting fucked up and fucking each other. It was automatic. My hand finishes writing the assignment, it begins writing in my spiral bound journal. They whisper about me, and I write faster, harder. With all those freshman and “fellow” remedial students, it was always a zoo. Their words were even farther removed, and I felt like an entirely different species. I suppose many teenagers feel that way. At any rate, this is where my journaling habit began and died.
In 1999 I had a website on gurlpages.com where I began journaling again. Truthfully, the habit only withered slowly in-between graduation in 1997 and today. I was just leaving a horrible relationship and we had just moved cross-country and didn’t know anybody, compounded by the fact that I had learned no positive coping skills besides writing. All I knew was anger and violence, or withdrawal and journaling. After we screamed at each other, we journaled. If we could stand the reflection. When the Internet presented itself as a new journaling medium (and Ultimate Distraction), I think I mostly gave up paper and pen. It’s been downhill from there.
One way of looking at my journaling had been through a lens of disdain for the weakness and femininity of it. Introspection seemed a flimsy and stereotypical way of dealing, of growing. After all, it produced no visible or tangible change. It was part of an outpouring that occurred when I learned to “toughen up” and put up a wall to try and hide my weaknesses. (And oh, how I sobbed listening to The Wall over and over, wondering how Roger Waters could have survived and yet had not reached sainthood for such poetry. Remembering too, how my copy of the double CD had been so cleverly stolen from Target by my sister. Memory truly is a web.)
The years are all so hazy. What was once crystal clear in it’s pain has tried very hard to shuffle it’s way out of my long-term memory. I’m not sure when these phases occurred, but I can now recognize that I have existed as an open and closed person. That lifelong obsession with finding my other, my doppleganger, lost twin, soul mate, WTFE… it kept my heart open until perhaps I was about 20. Ironic, as that is when I was married, supposedly to the one that I had been searching for. Up until that point, I sometimes related very well with the intense emotional states of a Scorpio or Cancer. I wanted the mutually beneficial, vice-like grip of that relationship: scorpion and crab, embracing forever, and standing united against all else. The theme of people being afraid to love, of intimacy, seemed to be the movie of the week. It was everywhere, and I laughed at it! “How boring’, I though, “what a waste of time to live without finding and having a partner”. With stoicism, I said “tis better to have loved and lost then never loved at all”. And in true adolescent fashion, I headed down that road without even knowing it. It was in those early Internet years that I remember writing in my online journal about toughening my skin. Having my heart broken but soldiering on more safely. In addition to everything else going on, perhaps the final shove into terrified hard-heartedness was a girl who slandered me on her website when I was 20-ish. Everyday it seemed like a new fight with her, and that taught me to further examine each and every word that I say. It took the fun out of journaling to hear my words thrown back at me, no longer sounding like me at all. It wasn’t her. It was a lot of things piling up on top of one another, with her sitting very near the apex. Sometimes I want to hug that girl, after all the time that has passed. But sometimes I still want to rip her apart with my bare hands. My growth is slow.
I suppose what disturbs me most right now is the stark contrast between the young person who actually believed in an ideal mate, and the person that I have become who is equally convinced that I am meant to be alone. It’s as though my very core has been replaced. As an imaginative child, not only did I know that my other half existed, I was convinced that I had an entire family out there who I had to find. As an adult, logic and experience have smashed down that idea. In it’s place is the near certainty that I was created to be single. Oh God. It was like a knife to my heart to type that. For all its glory, being alone is not what I truly want. It is what I will settle for because being in a poorly paired relationship is, to me, settling even lower.
This hand of solitaire is starting out very well.
I don’t believe that God plans crap for anybody. Lessons, some of them very painful, we can call down on ourselves, but His plan is never for “kinda OK” or “good enough”. I guess deep inside I still feel that God must have someone waiting for me. If I let my vision go soft, I can see my twin living in some jungle waiting for me to complete her. Whether that’s a foolish dream or a true vision, I do not yet know. But I do know that I am not interested in paring with anybody less than literally made for me. The lesson that I think I am meant to understand (among so many) is that no human can actually complete me, and that I must learn to feel loved and fulfilled even if it’s just me hiding alone in a jungle and having a relationship with God only. Maybe He won’t give me my twin until I know that heart and soul. Maybe I will see that I have already found that person, but that we are simply broken humans. Dunno yet. All those youthful dreams of becoming a contemplative nun (despite not being Catholic)… were they escapism to preserve my wounded heart, or a whisper from God about where I will someday be ready to exist? Ditto with the dreams of a long lost twin.
The reason I am publishing this is the same reason that I have an affinity for closet exhibitionism. It allows me to honestly scrutinize and express and be myself, and yet have the buffer of anonymity. Nobody in the building up the block or on the Internet actually knows me. I can expose myself in front of strangers as long as I don’t have to be aware of their responses or have any interaction with them. It’s a go-nowhere feedback loop, but a rather comforting one.
That feels like “all” I have to say this morning. I have no answers, but my questions and theories have been better examined. I feel a bit lighter. I should go create something. And probably have another good cry before this time of quiet is broken.
permalink
March 9, 2008
Rice Dream Moca Pies FTW!
4/2/08 Update: Did I say something…? “George” from Hain-Celestial sent me a canned snail mail in response to the e-mail below. Totally expected. But inside were 3 coupons… for .55 off… of a specialty Rice Dream product line that I have never seen in stores. And I have several super-hippie-vegan stores in my area. If that’s not a backhanded “take your free pies and shove em’”, I don’t know what is. Anybody want a whopping .55 off your next purchase of Rice Dream Supreme (which may or may not actually exist IRL)? As Geoffrey Jellineck’s landlord would say, while doing thusly to yonder useless coupons, “crumple, crumple, crumple”.
Time for a positive letter to a company. One that I love for this particular product…
Hello Imagine/Hain-Celestial, Inc… I wanted to tell you how much that I and my partner love your Rice Dream Mocha Pies. (We have the mint flavor sometimes, too.) They are everything that we dream of in a dessert; delicious, vegan, low GI sweetened, very affordable, and mocha flavor is amazing, too. An expansion in the use of organic ingredients would be wonderful. An organic mocha pie would probably be heaven. I would seriously buy stock in your company. (Not sure if that’s even possible…) Anyway, those pies have brought us both a bit of happiness and we wanted to say thanks. So… thanks!
Please don’t ever change. Well, I’m sure you’ll find ways to improve, but please keep Rice Dream Mocha Pies the same forever and ever. They are PERFECT. And in the words of David Cross, “In closing, please send as many free products as possible”. Hah hah. (But that would be OK.)
I signed off “Your Biggest Pie Fans”. lawls!!1 Sometimes I do OK stuff.
So uh… are you feeling inspired to write to anyone now?
permalink
March 7, 2008
Protected: Themes
permalink
February 27, 2008
Grand Daddy Purple
February 27th about 9PM in San Diego
It was warm for real today. No idea what “temperature”, but I rate it “perfect”. We stood with our backs to the dining area window, the sun setting in earnest and just beginning to turn violent shades. Eating pitas with raw delights inside, and talking about how all the people that walk by a floor below don’t “touch their junk” in our alleyway. “All these people…” he started today. “Everybody’s driving and walking alone… and nobody’s junk is hanging out… nobody’s touching their junk, or…” he trailed off. We lawled. It’s always about junk with you. But that’s OK, especially because I… well, he knew about my things already. Moving on.
Living in an urban area that also has (and is cultivating) respect for community is really pretty badass. I meet, for fleeting moments, these wild and wonderful people. We relate all conversations to each other, and I try to give a flawless delivery. We come home or call and within the minute say something to the effect of, “Duuude, I talked to this GUY today”. Eyes widen and the other party smiles widely and nods in understanding. We tell people are weird stories way, way, way more than people are so rad stories.
This tale can be summed up thusly: Right now I’m in my chonies and a t-shirt (that I dumpstered from the alley behind my house!!!) because the weather has been that sublime today. I so happy!
And note to self: Interest in 2008 Halloween finally appeared in the last week or so. Whew. I quietly feared that I was becoming too square. Psych! Just last night, while watching Shaun of the Dead for the umteenth time and playing Zombies!!! Mall Walker expansion game, I had an idea for a combo Halloween decoration and/or prank. It was sparked by the realization: we never see printed matter pertaining to zombie outbreaks. There is a very logical reason to this, but the average person has not thought about their zompocalypse strategy so they certainly won’t have the same realization about undead signage. And San Diego zombie walks happen! This is a recipe for success.
And also, I think I may end up loving Yoko Ono. I’ve been reading all the John Lennon biographies at my library and they say little about her. What is mentioned, even when- or maybe especially when- it’s meant to be unflattering, sounds interesting to say the least. Some of the things I read, her quotes, they’re just… beautiful and simple and true. I wonder how many Ono biographies there are.
And finally: I still have 2 crushes. Still! One I am writing about, and might eventually have to loveknife. Oh hah hah did I type that? And leave it there? tee hee. How’s “Love You Like a Scorpio” for the story title?
permalink
February 6, 2008
Years in the Making
Every so often, I get so angry I can’t move. It’s like the fight or flight response went into overdrive and fury just paralyzes me. Breathing and the beating of my heart feel like the only areas that my body is attending to, and both are a struggle. My fingers are just becoming mobile again, and it struck me that I’d better vent via writing, lest I make a poor decision IRL.
2 days ago the nightmares returned. Since my teen years I only ever have nightmares about one thing: the people whom I am tied to by blood. I’m gunna leave it at that. This is a note to self and a warning, all wrapped up in one.
I say, for the bajillionth time: We are through, and I am leaving. I am never good enough for you, and you have never loved me. Go away and never come back. I’m not one of you anymore.
permalink
January 19, 2008
Best Birthday In A Long While
Birthday #28 was never supposed to happen. Yet on January 13, 2008, it did. And unlike it’s predecessors of the last decade+, it was not a trauma for the record books. Hallelujah.
Sunday morning I woke up feeling good and headed to the bathroom where I took a while doing some beauty thing. When I came out Sean, who normally sleeps late, had already cued up some of our favorite birthday songs (chief among them, mcchris telling me to “put a smile on, cuz it’s your birthday, bitch”) and my beloved Silly Symphony “The Cookie Carnival”. Morning bedtime cuddles and anthropomorphic cookies are a good way to start a birthday, fo sho.
The day before, a card arrived from my friend Stacey, and I opened it first thing on the 13th. Geez, I almost cried it was so sweet. I get cards nearly every year either for X-mas or my birthday that say “Grand daughter” (or sometimes just daughter or sometimes even great grand daughter) but this is the first time that I’ve ever gotten one that says “Friend”. Not to say that friends have never given me cards, but this just struck such a chord. She drew inside and underlined all the parts she wanted to emphasize and said the kindest things. I am so grateful to have her in my life. It’s hard to compare high school friends, who I was close with but who rarely had my best interest in mind, but that’s all I have. In all my life, Stacey is turning out to be the best friend I’ve had.
Since it’s Sunday morning, Sean went to the farmer’s market in Hillcrest while I got ready for church. First time I went to church on my birthday, and it was one of my weeks to volunteer, too. This was THE way to start my day in order to get my priorities straight and get some perspective at a time that I usually go batshit crazy. I wore the shirt and matching pin that I finished the night before that proclaimed my victory last November. On an olive green tunic top with puff sleeves and an open back, I appliquéd purple striped words that said “NaNoWriMo WINNER”, and slapped together what was possibly the most “together” outfit in recent history. Had a wonderful time at church, but kept crying throughout the service. My simply being alive and 28 was a lot to take in that day. Still is.
(I was bummed that no one asked me generic “what’s up” or “what are your plans” questions, cuz I didn’t get to tell anyone @ church that it was my birthday. The dude that I was paired with during volunteering is more talky than questiony. And I was in my super fancy outfit, too, which no one said anything about. Can you tell how totally I do some things in order to get a reaction? Why dress up unless it incites awe or pleasure in others? Why have a birthday unless it can be celebrated with others?)
Upon return home (after the big 3 block walk) I found that Sean had gotten me my favorite Stargazer Lillies from the farmers market. Now, we generally don’t do flowers. “Why not just get potted flowers? How silly and wasteful cut flowers are!” But on a few occasions, they have been nice treats. Today was such an occasion. Another discovery was the Amazon box that arrived on Friday, unbeknownst to me. I begged Sean to procure me one of them fancy microfiber, lint-free shower towels. Bugged him about it for weeks beforehand so we would remember, cuz we have history of disappointments like that. “Please get”, “I will”, “Sorry, I forgot”. That pale pink towel was one of several “small” things from the day that made me feel loved and satisfied. I’m so damn practical. Gimmie a towel, I’ll give you my heart. (And you’ll give me a pen…)
With a 40% off coupon in my fist, we headed to Michael’s to tackle the mounting “crafty to-buy” supplies list. I got some badass Crayola markers to replace my cheap-o set that I’ve been using for about 10 years. Also got some valentine sprinkles and stickers and “paint markers” for card making next month. Gawd, I love making V-Day cards. It was so warm that we walked around for a little while at the outdoor mall.
With the sun blazing down, in what was probably the hottest day of this winter, we rode our bikes to Bird Park at the tip of Balboa Park. We weren’t there for terribly long, but took time to lay in the grass and play a little frisbee. I mostly used lefty for throwing and catching, and besides a few embarrassingly wonky tosses, I did alright. Someday I’ll be ambidextrous.
If you can believe it, there was some cleaning during the day. I thought my rad friend Stacey might end up coming over to “drop off raw treats”, so I gave the kitchen some lovin’ while Sean biked to the movie store to rent the 3rd Pirates movie. We’d been “saving” that movie for a bit of an occasion, simple because it seemed epic but not entirely interesting: like it would have to be viewed during an event to be worthwhile. True dat. What a totally discombobulated entry into the trilogy. It was like a string of gags that bore no resemblance to the first two movies. While there was no precedence for it, watching Elizabeth be the toughest character in the movie was really cool. And how she and Will didn’t end up together? Just, wow. New Disney can be an unexpected treat sometimes. Oh, and Sean made me some badass vanilla soy ice cream with magic sprinkles! I didn’t want to do cooked cake this year so we ate raw cinnamon rolls from Peace Pies, but then I got the sugar lust and begged for some ice cream. Tee hee.
And note to self: I didn’t drink a drop this year. Was it a coincidence that my first dry birthday in about a decade was also the best? Perhaps partly. I still smoked because, yo, that’s what us hippies do when they “party”.
Oddly, I got a call from my dad (who I generally don’t ever talk to cuz he can’t be bothered with me) and we talked for a few strained minutes. Mom called late at night and she and Belle/Travis sang happy birthday, which I LOVED. I don’t get why I dig it so much, but I really love hearing people sing happy birthday to me. Anybody, anytime, anywhere: sing it to me! (The Unbirthday song counts, too!) Alison also left me a voicemail on Skype, which consisted of her “telephone psychic” character that she got from Stephnie Weir/MadTV, which makes me crack up. She “sensed a lot of good regions for me in 2008″ and oh man, it was just hilar’. Also got e-mails from Russ and Stacey and a ghost from Michigan. These remembrances make my day.
So Stacey didn’t come over that day, but a few days later I picked up my raw treats and they ruled! Cinnamon rolls with peppermint frosting and a brownie with frosting. Who has ever given me a better edible treat?
It’s still not familiar yet, but saying or thinking about being 28 (nearly 30!), is not as bad as I thought. There is a growing sense of freedom that comes with it, which I won’t bother to explain just yet. I’m so thankful to be here, to be 28 and have Lord knows how many years ahead of me. It was a badass birthday. Endless love for all of you who helped make it so.
permalink
January 10, 2008
Things I Have Done to Myself
We could all write volumes on this topic.
Around this time of year- days from my birthday and just into the new year- I tend to look at the big picture more often. Reflect on things that had previously slipped by me. I’m noticing that this life has been handcrafted by the choices I’ve made: both the intentional and incidental.
Little voices have, for most of my life, guided me towards these things. Something- whether born from paranoia/fear or innate knowledge- has always said DISAPPEAR. It’s why I severed ties with almost everyone over a period of several years. It’s why I try to stay “off the radar” when it comes to the Vast Machine. (Great phrase from a book I just devoured called The Traveler) It’s why I have been dreaming about leaving the country without telling anyone and dropping off the face of the earth. It feels really important somehow. It was the oddest realization when I was reading. The Corrigan boys had spent their entire life staying “off the grid”, never really knowing why. When one of them fucked up and used his real name and SS… everything became clear.
(Note to self: Mum called here and I spent an hour encouraging her about Alison and her parenting in general. For about the 100th time. I could play her a recording and she wouldn’t remember from one call to the next. Yah, I’m pretty sure not loving my parents makes me a bad person. Then again, their not loving me… eh… nevermind)
I could easily be romanticizing simple paranoid delusions, but I have begun to wonder if this long standing notion to DISAPPEAR is actually based in reality. No idea who might want to find me, but this world is full of people who are pawns, willing to hurt or kill “troublesome” individuals in the name of ideology. Since my ideology is nearly opposite from “the norm”… fuck, I don’t know. I can’t say it without rolling my eyes: I’m on the Red List! The Man is gunna kill me!
But I started this entry with other focuses.
I also realized recently that my intentional lack of connections has had a very sad side affect: I don’t really have anybody mentally stimulating in my life. IRL… and this is both sad and probably a little self-delusional… I’m the smartest person I know. (No eye roll required. Might be untrue, but it doesn’t seem like it.) Questions fly out of my mouth and there is always silence or “gee, I dunno”. I can often get Sean to input a few ideas if I phrase questions like “what if”, but it’s mostly me theorizing alone. The other day this hit me and I was dumbstruck. What if I had surrounded myself with intelligent friends and colleagues instead of choosing solitude? Oh, the endless possibilities that could domino from that! Now every time I ask a question and hear silence… I kind of want to scream. It’s so indicative of how little I actually know, but I feel like the world is, by and large, full of idiots. I’m Luke Wilson in Idiocracy, cept’ I don’t have a sweet jaw and am smarter than his character, too.
I’m suddenly filled with the desire to laugh hysterically until my heart stops. Why does that make me miss Liz so much?
permalink