Happy Christmas and other ridiculousness.

Fuck you, day of pain. Why do you have to start at five in the bloody morning? I have come to expect you every month, and I am lucky that it's only one day instead of three or more. So I can accept you as a natural part of my female existence.

But 5am? Really? Cutting into my sleep time doesn't make you feel guilty?

See, the thing about getting cramps at night or early in the morning is that since the pain is radiating from your core, it is practically impossible to ignore it. Therefore falling asleep is damn difficult. If, by some miracle, I DO manage to doze off, the pain enters my dreams, somehow. It doesn't just go away.

Worse yet, not knowing if the pain meds will work or how quickly they will kick in.

But, on a positive note, it did wake me up enough to be able to write about it. Therapeutic? You bet your ass it is. Vent, and release. And I feel like I've become a stranger to blogging, the length of time seems to be increasing between posts, so what better way to jump back in the game than by complaining about bodily functions? Classic.

Luckily, my life hasn't been just a enormous pot of pain lately (in fact I had very little to gripe over until this morning). In peeking at my last post, I realized it has been almost exactly a month since I initiated any inkling of an update, so catching up on life shall be interesting, and hopefully not epically lengthy.

Partly, the older I get the more I begin to separate what news I'm willing to share without hesitation, and what aspects I want to keep to a smaller circle because of their preciousness. I still consider myself to be a relatively open person (here meaning “forth-giving and honest of personal thoughts and situations”) but I do appreciate the value of privacy, and on the interwebs, this is a rarely found trait.

Hell, in my own family it can be a rarely found trait.

Lesse... so shortly after Thanksgiving, finals happened. Since I'm on the quarter system, I get to end a whole week earlier than the semester-goers (and start back after three weeks of winter break, woo). The odd thing about this term in comparison to last year was the rather relaxing finals week. In spring I took three intensive science-y classes plus an english class (not really recommended), so the final exams plus final papers nearly caused me to eat my soul from the inside out. This month I had one in class final, two essays, and a final project due the week before finals.

...Say what? I almost hear crickets in the background, because of all the flexibility.

I landed myself with all As, which was quite wonderful news considering my perpetual worry over the renaissance literature class. I quit my job with catering, since I wasn't getting hours and I couldn't look for another job because I never knew if I WOULD be working or not. It was a bunch of stress I didn't need. I realized a few days ago this is the first time in a few years I wasn't working over the holidays, so my financial abilities zoomed in on zero. I hate asking repeatedly for money, even for things like gas. So, most of my gifts this year were crochet related; as a double benefit, it was much less stressful to just make scarves. It wasn't even a matter of “Shit, what should I draw? Do they have enough wall space? Should I do something else?” Nope, none of that. I made warm, functional stuff. Win, win.

The biggie of the big is that I've landed myself with a rather fantastic boyfriend. More to the point, he found me, but it's one of those seemingly out of the blue happenstances that makes me think the planets were lined up just right, or something. Through mutual friends, via internet correspondence initially (as in epically long letters). As anything I get involved in, it's been quite intense on all fronts, and a thoroughly enjoyable adventure so far.

Cheers!,

Thanksgiving!

A couple years ago the Thanksgiving tradition spun out of the predictably concrete. It used to be fairly reliable that the three of us (mom, dad, and daughter) would go to the big family feast; this would either be held at my aunt and uncle's house, or my grandparent's house (depending on who was going out of state and who would be home). It was also pretty predictable who would be there: which cousins, which grandparents, all determined how large the group would be. I have a reasonably large family, so I'm used to big (and sometimes rowdy) family gatherings.

Three years ago (it seems like yesterday), we had a smaller more intimate group (I got to see a few cousins I hadn't seen in years). But that day was followed by my cousin being rushed to the hospital a few days later. I remember it seemed like weeks and months while the family flocked and retreated, all waiting and hoping and praying. I think it was about two weeks later that he died. The entire event caused some wounds to open that wouldn't heal quickly, and some old ones to be torn raw. We'd like to say the family has recovered since then, but some unforgettable transgressions were made for some, and the dynamic changed.

Then, my parents separated the following year. I don't remember thanksgiving being that much different from "normal;" if my memory serves me well, we all went to the typical, big family dinner. But the year after, last year, the family dynamics had changed even more. New rifts caused the family's surface tolerance of each other to fracture again, and we were split into a number of oddly shaped (sometimes overlapping) groups. Mom and I had thanksgiving with a family friend and HER family, a truly unorthodox occurrence for the both of us.

This year seemed like a come-back to the boisterous feast that I remember so distinctly from childhood. This time I spent most of the day with my dad; I stopped by his apartment around 11:30 to help him finish the sweet potato dish (mashed sweet potatoes and bananas, with maple syrup, and toasted pecans, brown sugar, and cinnamon dusted on top. Freaking to die for). As a fully transitioned vegetarian (and infrequent pescatarian), I brought a vegan quinoa and butternut squash dish (which goes very well with mandarin oranges). It was such a blast cooking with Dad; we used to do that sort of thing, but now that I've begun experimenting with more extensive cooking, I can be more helpful in the experimentation process (it was my suggestion to toast the pecans, and add brown sugar and cinnamon).

Then he and I drove to my aunt and uncle's house for a blast from the past. 23 people and too-much-food later, it was just like old times. My family has allowed for my vegetarian needs rather amazingly. My aunt made a portion of the stuffing vegetarian, and my grandmother left out the bacon from the green bean casserole. So I definitely didn't go hungry.

Later on I traipsed over to Mom's to make cookies and kick off the season with a couple Christmas movies. Excellence!

Wowza

I admit it, I really should stop starting posts with "Wow, it's been so long since the last one," because the obvious reality of the situation is that I'm a busy college student and (hopefully) people understand that. But, I miss writing so much that sometimes I stop and shake my head at how little I do what I love.

So! Summary. School is good. Wee stressed over the amount of work that must be done for next week, but a little of that has been relieved, as I discovered one of my essays isn't due until the following week. I cannot freaking believe November is almost over. Halloween was like, a week ago, right? My biggest worry right now is the final drawing project. To be done on a piece of paper that's 50 by 39 inches. That's big (feel free to make "that's what she said" jokes), in case you're wondering. Bigger than anything I've attempted, anyway (...). I'm not telling what my theme is though; you'll have to wait until it's completed. :P

While I have a job, I haven't gotten the chance to actually work. I finally found out it's because things are slow right now; my supervisor has to schedule supervisors and higher up people first, and I'm just not needed at the moment (Woo, tell me that now that you've hired me?). But hopefully it means that I'll be able to go through finals without the impact of having less time for studying.
It's also come in handy lately because I twinged my back again rather nicely (/sarcasm) a couple weeks ago and I've been severely crippled. The first few days I could barely walk and stand or sit; after seeing the doctor though, I started on some meds again (anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxants) and began doing yoga about two to three times a day. Now I can manage with one 20-30 minute session in the morning and be set for the rest of the day, and I'm slowly becoming stronger and more flexible again. It was so weird not to be able to do forward fold or down dog. It still takes me a few minutes to be able to relax and stretch into a full child's pose (that's how tight my lower back is in the morning). But, I am so happy to be able to move with ease again.

In other news, life is fuckin' awesome right now. And Thanksgiving this week! Yay!

Female sexuality and Disney's The Little Mermaid

So because of a particular art assignment that was impossible to fulfill in my own apartment (lack of hallways) or at school (everything is closed on Sunday) I opted to take a trip over to my mother's humble abode for this adventure. The short of this is that I recommend sitting as centered as possible while drawing a hallway otherwise things will start looking as if they belong in the haunted mansion; warped and crooked does not a successful perspective assignment make.

The long of it is, I was able to go to Goodwill and get a work uniform fora fraction of the cost of what it normally would cost me (black slacks and long sleeved dress shirts plus a tie do not run cheap even in the cheapest of non-second hand stores, I'm sorry). I've reached the point where there's a small selection of clothing at goodwill that fits my body type and actually looks flattering, and not like a potato sack or a collection of badly placed too-tight pieces.

When we finally reached mom's house again, I popped The Secret Garden into the VHS player to have some background noise while doing my art assignment. Since I'd just read the book I wanted to rewatch the film adaptation to see how it compared. I think I prefer the ending of the movie to the book, but I prefer the rest of the book to the other (big surprise). I just don't think the characters were as well developed (time constraints are a bitch, you know), and I really didn't get the same sense of time passing as it did in the book (there are ways to cheat that in movies, and I think they tried to, but it didn't really translate for me).

THEN I made the bold decision to watch The Little Mermaid.

Let me just say that once you've taken a number of women's study courses and classes in analyzing stories/literature, your life is never the same. As soon as I started watching this lovely little Disney movie, my brain immediately started analyzing what it was saying about female sexuality. Let me explain:

When it comes down to it, Ariel is essentially a very sweet, pure (though slightly rebellious), and virginal young girl. She has an attraction for something she's not supposed to have (read that however you like), and in her first sighting of her prince, it's all downhill from there. (I think it's hilarious that there are fireworks that attract her to the boat; hey Ariel, when you first met Eric, were there any... sparks?) But of course her father, in trying to protect her, goes overboard and crushes all her hopes and dreams of "getting some" (I think it's important that her attraction for Eric is "inappropriate," because while in the film it's probably just that she wants to spend forever and ever with him, it's still taboo, which in OUR society, could be a symbol for sex. And keep in mind that Ariel is around the age where hormones are absolutely out of control.)

So then, enter Ursula. I have to say, she's one of my favorite villains in a Disney movie. Now, what does Ursula represent? Unrestrained, uninhibited female sexuality and its carnal desire for hedonistic sex. Let's just go over her appearance for starters: she is VERY voluptuous, and the fact that she's part octopus (I assume, I've never actually counted her tentacles) means the way she moves is very fluid and sexual (not to mention she's got a lot of suckers. Yeah, I went there). She has thick, red lips, a mole, and blonde hair (um, Marylin Monroe on acid, anyone?). Then there's how Ursula acts. She is completely uninhibited (when Ariel asks her how she will get the prince to fall in love with her without a voice, Ursula says to rely on her looks and body language. Watch that clip; if the way she "says" body language doesn't strike you as slightly stripperish, I don't know what rock you've been living under.)

There's even an element of Ursula hitting on Ariel. Don't get me started on the symbolism of Ms. Tentacles taking away Ariel's voice (I don't think popping cherries would have the same effect in this context). In addition, it's as if Ursula wants to live her sex life through Ariel, because of her beauty.

Anyway, so Ariel is transformed into a human. I was watching this part and I suddenly realized "Oh my god, she's spreading her legs." While mermaids have this seductive appeal to them (at least to the sailor part of the population), they're not really well built for sexual activity in terms of human anatomy. But of course, since Ariel wants to be human, bam. She gets legs and the parts that fit between them. Instant sex machine.

Let's go back to Ursula for a second. I think the fact that she wants power is important. Part of me is "you go girl!" and the other part of me wants to look at how she's going about her pursuits, and what that says about how some men feel about women's power of seduction. Ursula really is using her female wiles to try and rule over the ocean; she practically seduces Ariel, and then turns herself into a human to seduce Eric (hypnotize, whatever) when things don't go according to plan.

If she wasn't a villain in this movie, I want to stress that these actions would not be considered as sneaky and bad. She's looking out for herself and getting what she wants. But since she IS a villain, her seductive sexual schemes are associated with "bad." She's corrupted and perverted Ariel, and it isn't until after the girl goes back to being a mermaid that things turn out right, and her father can transform her into a human with less evil and sexual intentions and connotations.

Reflections on Isabella di Morro

For my gender interpretation in Italian literature class, we're in the process of studying female poets of the Renaissance (in Italy, obviously). Part of our homework for the quarter is to keep a journal of our reflections and analysis as we read the assigned material. For today we're reading Isabella di Morro.

If you're not familiar with her, she was a noble woman in southern Italy, born approximately in 1520. Her father was banished because at the time there were conflicts between France and Emperor Charles V (he ruled over Spain and dominated Southern Italy) over Italian land and territory. Isabella's father had aligned with France, and therefore Emperor Charles V banished him.

After this Isabella was left with her "cruel" brothers who didn't understand her. They isolated her from any social contact, so she literally saw practically no one. But, through her tutor, she developed a literary relationship with a Spanish nobleman. But of course her brothers found out, murdered the tutor, murdered her nobleman friend, and beat Isabella to death to "cleanse" the family honor.

Isabella left 13 poems, which considering her lifestyle and how young she was, it's remarkable she left anything. I almost can't bear the tragic story of her life. Her life and example to me so embodies poetry and the definition of it that it's almost overwhelming, both to hear her story and read her poetry. I have to wonder how her poetry was even discovered and published given her dire, isolated circumstances! Were they sent to her friend, or somehow kept safe from her brothers' wrath?

I find Isabella to be a remarkably special case among the female writers we've studied as of yet. Her poems are so open and frank about her circumstances, and also peel away at the underlying strength of this remarkable girl. To be that isolated and confined I would gather could lead to two different scenarios: going out of one's mind and committing suicide, or becoming absolutely subservient to her brothers.

One curious think I noticed: in her Canzone II, near the end in the second to last stanza, I read these lines as if she doesn't blame her brothers for their behavior. While she's aware that she doesn't deserve the treatment she's getting, she blames fate and fortune for what her brothers are doing, as if they have been driven mad by the poverty fate has left them in. “And quenched in them will be the noble spirit Left by our ancestors down to these days.” The choice of the word quenched (assuming that the translation is accurate and the synonyms apply) is particularly important, I think. Because it means to extinguish, to squelch. It's a very violent, active word, and it fascinates me that as her brothers attempt to quench her spirit, she sees the humanity in them, and sees it not as an evil, controlling nature, but the simple circumstances of individuals who have had their spirit taken away. They are victims as she is, not simply the people who inflict their will upon to her.

I have to wonder what was going through her head when they were beating her to death.

It could be argued that her views about her brothers were passive and weak. Maybe that she didn't give them enough responsibility for their actions. But in her poetry, I find a humble understanding of human nature, and disregard for free will. That fortune leads people to places they cannot always help, and therefore, like her, they must deal with and suffer the consequences as best they can. Part of why she was able to survive all of this WAS because of her naivete as a young girl, and her idealism of her family. While in reality her father couldn't have cared less about her, and her brothers eventually murdered her, she was able to keep a sense of self through this childlike coping mechanism: a fantasy of what the world was.

The world really does seem like Wonderland

I know it's been a while
But fuck it anyway.

Poetry is born from death of some form, of any form, we know, we know.
I wrote poetry for the first time in weeks. Maybe months.
I'd forgotten that feeling of emptiness combined with solace.

Things change, but one thing remains the same: the fact that every now and again, you're reminded that you don't know everything, that even though you think you're okay with the fact you can't control everything, you're not. That you've got a ways to go. That you don't know exactly how to feel, or what you want to do, and even though you may feel like you're the only one struggling with it, you're not.

School is fine, even the part where I feel like a wandering, aimless puppy going from place to place, not really sure what kind of dog it wants to be when it grows up. It knows what it likes, but is distractable enough to fail to apply itself for an extended period of time on any one thing.

I'm having to learn how to train the puppy.

Everything looked so beautiful in the rain yesterday. Everything is more interesting. All the texture changes. Cars look like they have translucent chicken pox, buildings leak rain stains on their outsides, and people look like funny shaped seals in their raincoats and ponchos slicked with water.

It feels like I'm lacking inspiration for what I want to do, but perhaps I can find a certain spark of sorts in this Wonderland-esque sense of being completely turned upside down.

I drew cookie monster's portrait and got hired in a matter of 48 hours.

Good god. Talk about a whirlwind week. I don't think the whole pms factor really helped that much, but besides one or two low points things have been surprisingly smooth.

So! School. School started. (Duh.) Even though I'd made the decision to take fun classes, you never really know how a class is going to turn out until you've actually sat in it a few times. So in order:

Drawing: You seriously don't realize how much skill you've lapsed on until you revisit the basics. Like every single other drawing class I've taken, my profs (it's co-taught by a man and a woman) use the Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain book for most of their beginning exercises. The vase/face, upsidedown drawings, etc. Which, so far, is totally what I need. I've spent a long time not diligently practicing and drawing so I haven't improved and grown as much as I could have. Not to say that I wasted time, because I learned other stuff outside of art, but now that I'm rediscovering art as a passion and a possible future, I really need to buckle down and start drawing regularly. Which means doing the simple stuff. I did the cookie monster's portrait upside down in charcoal on Wednesday. Let's just say that the fur detail nearly killed me.

Hindustani Ensemble: Can't really say how this one is going to go yet, because I've only been to one class. The woman who leads it appears to be very sweet and wonderful. We did a bunch of exercises (vocal ones, obviously) and started learning an entire piece, which was rather overwhelming for two hours (after walking in late I might add; my art profs thought the class ended 10 minutes later than it actually did. Oops.) I have high hopes though!

Children's Literature: I seriously love the fact that I get to take a class that requires me reading kid's books. That is entirely awesome. We're currently reading folk and fairy tales as a foundation to look at themes in other children's books (since, let's face it, not all fairy tales were meant for kids). Also, my teacher is quite attractive and funny. And well dressed. I'm kind of in love with her shoes.

Gender and Interpretation (Through Italian Literature, I assume): You know how there are some teachers who just can't help but give boring lectures? Even if they use power point with pretty pictures, you can't help but feel your eyes slowly start to close... Well, the prof for this class is the complete opposite. She is frickin' rad. She's an older-ish (50s? 60s? I can't tell.) Italian woman who speaks like the best goddamn story teller in the world. Passionate about what she does and teaches about, makes 1 hour feel like 20 to 30 minutes, I am in love with it so far. Making an Italian Renaissance writer appear this interesting is always a plus, especially considering he's a bit of a misogynistic fucktard.

The other thing that's been weighing on me is the whole job issue. Basically I've been trying to find a work study job so I can (duh) collect the work study portion of my financial aid. Without it I wouldn't be able to pay for all the basic needs and therefore would have to get a loan.
So I applied for a variety of work study positions (as well as looking for a job outside of the school), and the only one I got a call back for was a dishwasher job. Not my most favourite choice, but I needed the money, so I decided to go ahead and go to the interview. (Besides, these kinds of positions can be stepping stones for future jobs in food elsewhere.)

On Tuesday at 2 o'clock, I trekked over to where the interview was. It took me forever to find it (mostly because I had no idea where it was, other than the fact that the building was somewhere to the right of the ARC). I was the fifth person (who was currently there) to be interviewed. I heard the woman tell a couple people that they'd received a shitton of applications (I'm paraphrasing, obviously), and that they would call back if you were hired.

So here's me sitting there thinking, “So maybe I won't get the job anyway...?”

Then it's my turn. The woman noted that I had a passion for art (I think the work as an Art Tech at Sierra College, being Head of the Art Department in retail, and working for the art gallery gave it away). I laughed, “Yes, that's one out of the many.”

And so she went on to ask the questions on the form. After she had finished she inquired if I would be interested in applying for other locations. I asked what she meant, specifically. She told me that there was a position available in catering, which was handled out of the MU. I gave an enthusiastic “Sure!” because it sounded a hell of a lot more fun than dishwashing in a dining hall for the dorms. She filled out a little form with another interview time on it. I'd be meeting with someone else on Thursday at 2.

Fast forward two days (meaning, today). I got to where she specified I should be, but no one was there. I wandered around a bit, before someone asked me if I needed help. I got passed around until a guy said that they actually wanted me downstairs in sales. (Never woulda found it.)

Once I finally got there, I waited for ten to fifteen minutes and then, interview time! The most prominent thing I remember about the environment were the purple office chairs (random tidbit of useless knowledge for you). Seriously, they were bright purple. It was awesome. I met with a guy and he asked me the rest of the questions on this application thing (I think it may have been the same one from the first interview). Things like “What would you do to maintain a safe work environment,” “What do you enjoy most about working” (I think), “Think of a time when you received poor service at a restaurant; what would you have done differently?” and he asked me a separate question about how I would handle the intensive physical labor side of the job (since you're serving for 45 minutes and cleaning/setting up for 6 hours).

He hired me on the spot. I had to take some paperwork back to the original woman and tomorrow I'll be meeting with someone else (hopefully) to verify that I can legally work in the state, etc. Then I'll go through orientation, and then hopefully start working.


Also, vegan pancakes and yoga to Abbey Road make the BEST start to a morning. Just thought I'd let you know that. :)

Heat Induced Hallucinations

Waking up in my own bed, hearing the train blare its way through the station, and feeling the cool breeze from my fan waft its way over my hips kind of makes me wonder: Did I dream last weekend? Maybe it was a heat induced hallucination from yesterday afternoon.

Kidding. But it's still rather surreal.

So for those of you who don't know, I drove down to So-Cal with my friend Miss J for the weekend, so I could be at Disneyland for my birthday. The general vibe of the weekend was, shall we say, awesome? We talked about life and food practically nonstop the drive down, and the drive back. My cousin was able to get us in for free with park hoppers tickets, which means the Tower of Terror and Soarin' Over California SO happened. I think Tower of Terror is at its best when you haven't been on it for a while; you forget what it feels like to be free falling and swear that your stomach just jumped out of your eye sockets. Soarin' Over California always wants to make me cry. But for good reasons. It's such a magical experience that if the lines weren't so long, I'd totally go on it over and over and over again.

I've also decided that it's the right time to think about transitioning into being completely vegan. I eat that way most of the time anyway, and with my increasing experience in cooking and research (the dessert pizza vegan-style was freaking AMAZING), I've realized how easy it is. I never thought being vegetarian could come so naturally, and so I have no doubts that I can succeed at cutting dairy and eggs completely out of my diet. I really have enjoyed it, because it's gotten me so inspired about cooking different things (or cooking at all), experimenting, and being conscious about what I'm putting in my body.

Tied to that though (food issues), is something I'm coming to recognize in myself. There's something called overeating, or compulsive eating disorder. It's not bulimia, because one doesn't try to make up for the binges by puking or excessively exercising, but one does go through periods of binging. It may not be constant, and I don't think I have it as bad as others do (and I've found short term ways of controlling it). I used to call it sugar binging; I have this mentality that when sugar is in the house (or other trigger foods like chips or crackers), I need to eat it all in one sitting (or two), so it's gone and won't be tempting me any longer. And as you can probably guess, it turns into a vicious cycle. Right after my boot camp thing ended, I fell into a week long period of occasional binging. And guess what? It's been hard to stop. This is a journey I'm just now embarking on, so we'll see where it takes me.

What else! School starts tomorrow, and all my classes start in the afternoon. I'm planning on getting a pass at the ARC on campus for their group classes so I can start doing yoga with other people again, and maybe some other classes too. It's been bloody hot the last few days, and therefore my apartment has been a little warmer than usual. Luckily it cools down at night and with the windows open, it's no problem.

I'm also working on a new song (no title so far) inspired by the tendency relationships have (no matter what kind they are) of failing, because both parties may not want the same thing, or they fail to express what they want and therefore there appears to be a conflict of interest, and most often people literally cannot understand another person from their own perspective. So far it's written to evoke fairy tale-esque themes and imagery; I'm excited about it!

Pictures coming soon...

I had planned on this oober awesome and long update since it's been so long since I last posted. Moving has gotten in the way of finishing the parts to the series I want to do (big surprise) and I've been feeling a little shitty tonight due to the craptastic eating habits that are finally catching up to me (also a big surprise).

The highlights of the week so far:
Moved into the new apartment on Tuesday. My uncle and a buddy of mine helped, which was amazing. The apartment was an absolute mess (especially the upstairs bathroom), so I asked my cousin for some help to clean up on Wednesday. She was a total trooper and we managed to do quite a bit of work in 4 and a half hours. I suspect a couple guys were staying there over the summer... and as you can imagine, two college guys can produce a lot of nastiness, and not just in a kinky way. It took me an hour and a half to completely clean the tiny upstairs bathroom. Rubber gloves were definitely involved.

I spent the night there on Wednesday night, after staying up until 1 in the morning to unpack everything. I'm really really happy with how things turned out. And I love the space because it has such big windows; it makes everything very bright and makes the room seem bigger. I was worried about it getting too hot, but so far I seem to be getting a nice breeze through one of the windows. I bought a $10 fan that fits on the windowsill; I propped it against the screen and it does a fantastic job of sucking the air in from outside. It'll get a little bad during big heat waves I suspect, but we'll see!

I'm leaving tomorrow for a B-day weekend in So-Cal. I'm excited! A little sad, because it'll be my first birthday away from my parents, but I'm a big girl, I can deal! Besides, I'm gonna get to be in Disneyland. :D

Down the rabbit hole we go... what fun times we will have!

I'm always hesitant to say “You don't know what it's like to feel like you think and see things differently from everyone else,” because on a larger scale, we all see things differently. Simply a combination of our genetic wiring and our personal social constructs provides a unique set up for how we interact with the world, and how and what we think. Granted, there are a lot of similarities and overlaps, but overall each person's lens is a different one.

Now, there are some “universal” (whether that means universal in our society/culture, or literally universal) experiences that we can empathize with because of similar experiences, thoughts, or basic human nature. Pain, for example. I resist the temptation to make pain into a contest (“You don't know how I feel because I've suffered so much more than you have”). While there ARE different levels of pain and the situations surrounding are broad and varied, when it comes down to it, we've all experienced some sort of pain, so at a basic level we can empathize with another living thing when it feels some sort of anguish.

Therefore, saying things like “You don't understand because you haven't been what I've been through,” is a waste of time in my opinion. Of course they haven't been what you've been through. If they had, that would imply that they are physically, mentally, emotionally and literally YOU, and I suggest we should move on to discuss why you're arguing with yourself like that. But! It's also a waste of time because you deny the frame of reference the other person has, simply because they are a human being, too. Most of us have experienced injustice, most of us have experienced love and loss, and to say “You don't understand” is really just a method of shutting down the conversation because you don't want to discuss it. If you honestly want to try and connect with another person, you must first find a common frame of reference you can use to move forward.

It's like math. Finding the common denominator. You're both numbers, you may be completely different, so you must find a common ground, even if that number is 1.

But I digress. I've been over this before. It's just that it still bugs me, and I have to start there before I go on to say “But, I do feel like I see things differently,” partly because I feel the need to lay down the foundation so I don't go off on these abstract tangents without mentioning that I AM taking these other things into consideration.

I have a feeling this could lead to a long, twenty page dissertation on my head, relationships, sex taboos (and taboos in general), and the social contract. But after a lengthy and passionate conversation with my mother this evening, I want to convey these things on a concrete form. Partly so I have access to them for further explorations of human nature and my own complicated brain. I have no illusions that most of my friends and family understand everything that I say; I am grateful to those who humor me and appreciate my twisted ramblings, and those who are able to understand are truly invaluable. Since I'm moving within a week, I don't know how much I'll be able to write, but I want to write a series of blogs on these matters. Life is so exciting and all of these discoveries further my excitement for the complex and abstract, and I must share these things. Otherwise I am certain I may explode from the impassioned giddiness I feel.

To give myself a somewhat organized breakdown, some topics I wish to pontificate on are:
The social contract of relationships and family
The sex taboo (obsession and queer perspectives)
My perception of reality and the “dating game”
The problem of civility and a continuation of social contracts

An art roll is a kind of sushi, right?

I seem to be on this art roll. I finished the tattoo commission, which my friend is quite happy with, then I did the fantasy landscape.

Currently, I should be working on not so fun stuff; namely getting packed up so I can move on the 15th. But yesterday I sewed/altered a couple t-shirts into new shirts, and I'll hopefully have pictures of those up soon. Maybe later today or tomorrow. I started messing around with a sketch of a weird creature that I hope to finish for Tangent Gallery's Neo-Fantasy show (Which is in February, so theoretically I should have PLENTY of time. Maybe I'll expand on the idea and make a bigger piece, or more than one. It kind of reminds me of a Tim Burton-esque character, but I want to push it to the next level so I don't feel like I'm just copying. We'll see!)

So that's about it. We're going to pop out today and buy some cheap t-shirts so I can continue my reign of terror (or something) on clothing. Or I'll resign myself to the shitload of house cleaning I should be doing. Either way, cheers!

Contemplating art

I'm considering creating an arm piece (tattoo) for when I reach my goal weight.

I'm thinking about something botanical (maybe trees... I really adore trees and it's rather symbolic of my life and my history) and combining that with the phoenix. I came close to being named Phoenix Ray, but Dad didn't want to go that route (big surprise, hehe). But the meaning of Tasia (shortened version of Anastasia) is similar, if not the same: rising from the ashes. Accomplishing this goal (weight loss) will be a huge milestone for me. I've been chubby/overweight/borderline obese for half my life (starting when I was put in home study; great for my intellectual side, but not so great for exercise! Especially after I suffered a back injury and had to quit karate) and I realized a week ago that I literally don't know what it's like to be, and live, as an active, healthy, fit person. Once you reach your heaviest weight, which for me was 225, your mind stays at that weight. It's more than a body image problem. My theory is, since weight loss (healthy weight loss anyway) is so gradual, whatever weight you are at becomes the "new fat." I refuse to let that mentality rule the rest of my life, and want to actively change that. Rise from the ashes, as it were. You must always die to be reborn, and I'm looking forward to all the changes that I will create

Music? Music!

Discovering new bands used to be like Christmas. Except it could be at any time, sometimes when you least expected it. Nowadays, my look-into-and-buy list is ten times longer than my already-own-and-like list. It's so bad! It's gotten to the point that if I'm buying stuff on amazon.com I will second guess myself silly, until I end up either buying nothing, or buying something I wasn't initially intending on getting.

You have to ration things out, I get that. Especially when you're a poor college student mooching primarily off your parental units, or using financial aid. It only gets worse when you have a job. Cause then you wanna be REALLY careful.

But! There are still rare moments when I'll come across something, either by accident, or happenstance, and totally fall in love. Sometimes it's gradual, sometimes it takes a while to get used to, but then those become the favourites that last so long, you forget what life must have been like without it.

I swear I'm not talking about relationships.

So! What have been my true loves lately? What's left me dancing in the middle of a hardwood floor living room, head banging in the car, crying on my bed, and crooning like the silly sonofabitch that I am? I'm composing a small list for your enjoyment!

I should explain, first, how I come to find music I like. I know absolutely nothing about what's popular. The last time I listed to the radio (voluntarily) was... 2005? ish? It's been a long time. I don't keep up on magazines with the newest albums and the only thing I know about The Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus are their religious preferences. Nine times out of ten, someone asks me who's that playing on the radio, I shrug and say sorry honey, can't help you. The the fuck is Lady Gaga? The only reason I recognize Pink's voice is because, well, she has a recognizable voice and a consistent song type. And the craze stream of singer-songwriters has produced so many goddamn women who sound exactly the same that I can't tell who's gained a boyfriend and who's shouting woe-is-the-world. What. The. Fuck?

So all that to say, when I hear a band/musician's name, the first thing I do is find a stream of one of their songs and listen. Preferably find some lyrics, too. One thing I'm terribly about is actually knowing who the band consists of, or who the person is. I'm not one to immediately jump on wikipedia or google and read all the bios and find out who they are, which is a bit of a handicap at times. But regardless, I usually prefer to judge first by sound and lyric content/quality.
Without further rambling, onto the list!

1. Okkervil River. Came across these guys via a web comic called Octopus Pie. The artist had put together different playlists that the primary characters would most likely listen to. I love, love, love their sound. Admittedly, I'm a sucker for folk rock-esque bands, and this is no exception. The musicianship is rather intricate, and I can get lost in following each instrument's part. Lost Coastlines (on The Stand Ins album) is by far my favourite song of theirs so far, and that tambourine line... mm! That in combination with the bass line I think provides a fantastic foundation of a heartfelt, and beautifully crafted song.

2. Ani DiFranco. Okay, obviously she isn't someone no one has heard of, and it's already common knowledge that she's pretty much totally awesome. But I wanted to highlight her first album, self titled, which was released on the year of my birth, go figure! If you have listened to only her later work, this is quite a bit different, as it features only her voice and her guitar. There's one track that is spoken word, almost a slam-poet kind of feel, which is really quite powerful if you let the words roll over you like wind on a tentative summer morning. But this album illustrates one of the things that I respond to in the folk rock category. One, the guitar skills are inspiring for an amateur like me, and two, the range of lyrical mastery is something that can only be appreciated through multiple listenings. It's like reading a really good book over and over again; new things show up, and new connections are made, or something will hit you differently and shock you, because you thought you knew exactly how it was already.

3. Balkan Beat Box. What to say, what to say. I picked up the Nu-Made album at a record store in Sac-town kind of on a whim. It was different, and from listening to it a bit on the sample thing, I thought, why not? I need something I can groove to. According to wikipedia: They established their own unique sound by fusing the musical styles of Jewish klezmer, Mediterranean and Balkan traditions with hip-hop and dancehall beats. And that pretty much describes the vibe. Take the old and create something new. If you read the entire wikipedia article, it's rather inspiring what they've done. I admire the passion and creativity it took to make something like this, and especially end up with something that's just damn fun to listen to.

4. The Builders and the Butchers. Another damn fun band to listen to. It is impossible for me to sit still and play Salvation is a Deep Dark Well. It reminds me of a hybrid of rock and American roots music. They have all the bluegrass and blues instruments, and the types of story-songs, but it's amped up. It channels one of the things I like about Okkervil River; a strong percussion foundation. It's the kind of thing that sinks deep in your bones and shakes you until you have to move because there's so much goddamn energy bursting from your veins. The first time I went all the way through Salvation, I loved every single fucking song. Which is rare. I haven't spent enough time with the album to carefully pick through the lyrics and discover the band from that angle, but until then, I will happily listen on.

5. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Oh man. Do me a favor. Find Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! somewhere on the internet, and listen to the song (it's also the name of the album, except fewer exclamation points). I am in love with the way the lyrics are crafted. The poetry makes my entire body tense up because I want to catch every single bit of it. It's so raw and tangible. It almost sounds textured; like you could touch the words and the meanings themselves. The sound itself is an intense and eclectic blend of... everything I love? Blues, punk (or post-punk, depending on your point of view), rock 'n roll. It's like a Christmas present that has more surprises the more you open it. It took me a while to get into them, but once I did, I was hooked. It's violent, dirty, sexy, addicting, but not to the point of being completely obnoxious and unbearable.

6. Imogen Heap. I swear to God, I am in love with this woman. I didn't listen to Speak for Yourself for a while, because the album had some memories surrounding it, with the traumatic falling out between a close friend and myself. When I finally did stumble across her again, the power was no less than before. I don't love every single track on the album, or on Frou Frou's “Detail” album, but there is enough. More than enough. Hide and Seek is probably my favourite, of all time. It never fails to make me cry. The harmonics produced are haunting. It's the kind of song you either love, or you hate. But for myself, it's heart stopping.

In my last ten minutes of internet tonight.

I want to write a story about an intergalactic creature named Larry, and then write a song about him.

I want to paint squares on the edges of my mirror, write my limitations and obsessions inside them, and then paint over them.

I want a huge canvas so I can paint little pieces of it over time. Nothing profound, or at least intentionally so. Accidental moments of beauty are always the best.

Hmm!

It's been a while.

Yet it goes that way, sometimes. My post-Georgia life has been a bit of a roller coaster, and the most intense bits have occurred in the last 24 hours. Right after I got home, a rowdy bout of pms caught me unawares and resulted in some downer days a couple days after settling back in to the home-routine. I've lost track of how long ago that was, to be honest. It feels like an entire month has disappeared because days of the week and dates weren't really important until I came home. So starting August halfway through? Where the fuck did the time go?

I created a three week health-and-fitness boot camp for myself, which includes limited internet and computer usage. Partly, I have a massive summer reading list that I'm just NOW starting, and I spend so much time doing nothing on the intarwebs, that I sat on my butt and thought, “How the hell am I going to read all this?” So, twenty minutes a day of internet, forty minutes general usage (time that I use to write blogs like these, for example), and then no internet on weekends, with 30 minutes general use on Saturdays.

It's not easy, I can tell you. You never really realize how much you use the internet for until you're limited to 20 minutes five days a week. Who knew checking up on daily comics could be so time consuming? Luckily I'm not the world's most popular person, so I AM enjoying the time away from myface-suck.

The rest of the boot camp consists of regulated calorie intake for every day, coupled with an increasingly intensive exercise routine. I've started out a little easier this week, but come next week the pace will be stepped up significantly. My goal is to officially be lower than 170 come my birthday on September 20th, because the last time I was as low as 170 was the day I turned 13.

So the real reason for my roller coaster-ness is Davis. Yeah, that whole school thing. That not-so-little thing that nags at the back of your mind, and causes you to have dreams where you're walking through the halls naked, forgetting that you have a big exam because of the cold draft wafting between your legs and up your once-were-private parts.

Regardless, it's a shit-pain in the ass. I love school, don't get me wrong, but it's specifically the learning part that I enjoy. The stimulation of the mind and flexing of the creative juices. The tests, the money, and the red tape I am not so fond of.

I should explain. Two years ago (ish) I entered Davis at either 15 or 16 (I can't remember which at the moment and don't care to do the math) years of age. I was young, and really didn't know what the fuck I was doing, so I just, you know, started taking classes. Looking back, I think I was immediately at a disadvantage because I entered in Winter quarter; Fall quarter was when all the beginning classes were that I probably needed to begin the stack-on method of class taking (each passing quarter some different classes are offered at higher levels of skill; so if you take beginning drawing in Fall, intermediate drawing might be in Winter, etc, etc). Not knowing this at the time, of course I had a shitty time getting into classes. Half of them conflicted with each other, or were canceled, on top of that.

Now that I was back at Davis this time around, after going through the readmission process, my intention was to go the Cultural Anthro route and fuck art because it was impossible to get into classes. Needless to say this last quarter was an amazing and beautiful nightmare. I had classes I came close to hating, even if I loved learning the material, and it was becoming clear to me that Cultural Anthro was not the way to go. However I did meet a couple of people who I suspect will turn out to be long-lasting friends, and my poetry class was an amazing happenstance that I am still reeling over.

So summer goes by, I flip flop between the two majors, and finally end up deciding that I ought to try art again, because in all honesty, I miss it. A lot. Especially with the self discoveries I've made in the process of several months. I met with an advisor today to talk about what it would take to graduate, because in addition to all of this fanciful stuff, I've come to the point where school is draining me emotionally and mentally, more and more which each passing quarter. In short: I'm sick of it. I need a break, badly.
She was a very nice lady. She was very helpful, too, in showing me what had to be done in order for me to potentially graduate in a year. The quick and dirty summary is: the most reasonable and easiest route would be Cultural Anthro, partly because of the time limitations I was putting on things, but also because of the “unit cap.” Meaning? I have a lot of units completed. And to finish with an Art Studio degree would go over the unit limit, so it would require lots of petitions, and testing out of a class, etc, etc.
So, okay, I thought, then let's look at the Anthro option.
Oh, more science classes. Oh, two science classes this quarter, otherwise I probably won't be graduating in a year.
Well, you gotta do what you gotta do, I suppose.

I called Mom after the appointment, and gave her the short version of what the woman had said. I was actually on my way to change majors right then and there when it suddenly hit me how overwhelmed I was. I couldn't make this kind of decision right away. This was insane. I needed to think about this before going with the what-someone-else-said option.

It slowly came on me how huge of a decision this was going to be, as I was walking to my car and getting ready to head home. The jaw started to clench and the breath went a little gaspy with each successive step, and by the time I was pulling onto the freeway, the leaky tear ducts were in full spray. I cried the entire way home. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, “What the fuck are you doing? Cultural Anthro isn't going to make you happy. That was made clear last quarter. What's another year of that going to do to you?” I was thinking things like, well, then what if I just don't finish? But I have a lease for an apartment. Maybe I could try and find a job?

I crashed once I came home. I watched TV, took a nap; avoiding anything that would make my brain think too much.

Then Mom came home. What would one ever do without a parental figure? We went through a brainstorming session over dinner, her with her fish and veggies with hummus, me with my fruit smoothie. I spent time trying not to cry, and spent more time not succeeding at it. She drew out three columns: Longterm goals, short term, and dreams, and filled each one in in different colored pen as I talked haltingly in a voice that resembled breaking glass. I said that I felt like I was “finishing” at Davis for the wrong reasons, that it was like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. A queer peg in a straight hole. The things I wanted to do, now, didn't include a career or degree in Cultural Anthropology, or really any specific degree at all. I didn't know what I wanted to do, and it had been clear for a long time that Davis, as a school and a place to get a degree, wasn't a good fit for me. I had too much exploring to do.

So what were my options? If I didn't want to continue at Davis I could try and break the lease, and stay at home, get a job. I could go forward with the petitions and try for Art Studio; stay in school so I could get the aid to pay for housing. I could try to find a full time job and just work to pay rent and live in Davis.

Or I could fuck Davis's requirements and take whatever the hell I wanted for a year, have the money to live away from home for that period of time, and then finish my degree somewhere else.

Which is what I decided to do.

On the way home

I'm not usually one to judge by first impressions, but I'm not sure how friendly the passengers at Atlanta airport are. I arrived at my gate a few minutes ago (about an hour before my flight leaves) to find the seats rather crowded (not a huge surprise, but potentially challenging nonetheless). I'm wandering through with a mildly curious, searching look on my face (this look is either Scrunched Up Nose or Wide Eyes and Head Cocked to the Side; the latter is my own case) and am disheartened to see that some people are taking up two seats by sleeping sprawled out. I'm all one for snoozing if you have more than an hour before your flight, but once it starts getting crowded, how about lending someone a seat?

Regardless, I found one, parallel to and slightly facing this one guy with bald head, stocky build, and a sullen, grumpy expression. Clearly he did not get his beauty sleep. Now I may look rebellious, me and my kitschy zebra print shrug, faded blue and green hair, and nose ring, but I'm not that annoying to be around (unless, you know, you're my friend), and I certainly wasn't invading his personal space. Perhaps my water bottle was a smidge too close to his fancy (not) black carry on bag, or he noticed the spattering of what cat hair on my black tank top. Whatever the reason was, after a minute or two he swiftly stood, grabbed his back, and scurried off to a different seat, not three feet away from me.

I showered, I swear! I don't smell funny!

;)

Not seriously though. The employees here have been wonderful so far. I checked my big fat suitcase stuffed with thrift store purchases, the hand-made elephant I named Oglethorpe, and varying other crap I brought with me at one of those outside check-in places. I don't know why more people don't take advantage of the things. There was no line at the particular counter I went to, and I was helped by a charming older man with a spiffy hat and a lovely Georgia accent. “Your gate is A26, Miss Weatherly,” he drawled as he pointed out the circled number on my boarding pass, “Have a nice day.”

It's hilarious. If someone says that in Sacramento, it comes off condescending and fake (Have a nice day? Psh. Up yours, ass hole.), but here, it's just part of the language. Normally I don't like being referred to as Miss, but I made an exception in this case. The friendliness is right up my sweet, charming alley!

Random tangent: An obese woman across from me just polished off a donut with pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. I am mildly tempted to offer her my bag of pistachios, but will resist.

Zone 1 is currently boarding. I'm zone 3, so I suspect I'll have to pack up soon.
I got no sleep last night. Maybe an hour or so. I blame the large amount of chocolate and chai tea I consumed last night at 10pm. Silly me. But! Hopefully that means I'll get to sleep a bit on this flight. I'm not really looking forward to the whole butt-goes-numb-after-5-minutes-no-matter-what-position-you-sit-in thing.

~

Hey, here I am on the plane! Amazing. Supposedly there's wi-fi on the plane, but my computer can't seem to access it. Figures. Oh well; it gives me a chance to finish this, do some reading (Happy Yoga, many thanks to Miss Jordan!), and sleep, most importantly. If my ears don't give me much trouble I might be able to nod off.

~

Goddamn I'm gonna get spoiled. The seats on this particular plane are either a hell of a lot more comfortable or the jeans I'm wearing made a shitload of difference. Not only that, but they played a free movie: the new Star Trek film.

Booooyaaaah! I think I like the flight home a lot more than I liked the one to Atlanta. Still can't seem to access the wi-fi properly, but I'm not really sweating it. I think we're somewhere over Nevada at the moment. We should be arriving in San Fran in a little over an hour. I tell you, even though my ass is more comfortable than it could be, it'll still be happy when I get off it. Poor tail bone! It gets so beat up with this silly sitting business.

I suppose I could, you know, not slouch, so I could ease it a little but I would be breaking my facade as an impudent teenager, right? Blue hair and nose ring?

Hehe, rawr!

It's kind of trippy being able to see the map up on the screen. It shows the detail/texture of the landscape (geography/geology junkies care to tell me what that's called? I can't remember), and confirms that indeed, we are flying over a bunch of rocks.

Commonly known as mountains, but they LOOK like a bunch of rocks from way up here.



My bed is calling so sweetly from its location. It's almost like a men's choir serenading me across state lines, and they're all in various states of undress. I suspect I may sprawl most enthusiastically upon it and then promptly fall asleep. Aah, sweet bliss!

Life is exciting!

Well, this is my last night (now it's morning, but oh well) in Georgia, and I'm sitting here writing while Murray the cat licks (and bites) Kitty's hand. It has been an amazing adventure and I am truly grateful for the experience. I've made tasty food, eaten too much sugar (surprised?), shopped at thrift stores, toured downtown Athens, longed for a bed of my own, been angered by obsessive gossip, worried about what will happen after I move, worried about where I want my education to go, and wondered what the fuck is going on with my financial aid ad Davis.
Sounds like a lot?
I'm used to it. It's the way my brain works ;)

The last few days feel like a blur now. Maybe because I'm ready to get home, and am just enjoying the sensation of living and being adventurous. And my belief that everything I do and experience and learn creates the opportunity for a new lesson, or an expansion of myself has been firmly supported with this expedition.
It's not that I'm being overly optimistic. But I do think I have a choice as to how I respond to what situations I am dunked in. I can be a spoonful of vinegar, and make the drink bitter, I can be salt and make the drink harsh, I can be sugar and make it too sickeningly sweet and unrealistic, or I can be a spoonful of honey with a dash of cinnamon. Not too sweet and a satisfying edge to whatever comes my way.

I feel I've developed a healthy outlook upon myself, and am ready to get back to my yoga and healthy eating lifestyle. I'm ready to make new places for myself and create friendships with kindred spirits who add their own spices to life. I'm ready to make mistakes and not be ashamed of them. I'm ready to tackle new challenges, be they physical, intellectual, or emotional. I'm ready to continue to let go and explore with a sense of curiosity that I'm sure is at the core of who I am.

Good night, friends, and good luck, though I don't think you'll need it!

Amazing pizza recipe!

Kitty and I made this tonight, and it was so amazing and delicious that I decided to write up the directions (we spliced two different recipes and added our own creativity) and share it with you!



Preheat oven at 375 degrees.
This recipe makes two cake pan/casserole dish sized pizzas.

Phyllo dough
4 garlic cloves
Italian seasoning (or your herbs of choice)
Shredded mozzarella cheese (and whatever other cheese you prefer)
Olive oil

Ten layers of phyllo (fillo) dough per pizza
Generously spray one rectangular cake pan with cooking spray. Lay down one layer of fillo dough, pressing into the edges (most fillo dough comes in huge sheets; you may want to cut the sheets in half so they fit in the pan without too much overlap). Lightly brush with olive oil (or butter) and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese, or the cheese of your choice (be stingy, you're going to repeat this nine times!). Place another piece of fillo dough down, and press so the top sheet adheres to the bottom. Repeat until you have laid 10 pieces of fillo dough down.

Lightly brush the last sheet with olive oil.

The sauce I use is comprised of a half a can of your basic tomato sauce, plus four cloves of minced garlic (I like it with lots of garlic, and remember, this is for two pizzas; use a quarter of the can and two cloves of garlic for one pizza), and basic Italian seasoning (use whatever spices you want if you prefer your own blend). Lightly spread over the fillo dough layers and sprinkle with mozzarella cheese.

Next come the toppings! For my version, I cut up:
1 cup of onions (½ cup for each pizza)
½ of a large can of black olives
One medium sized plum tomato (or similar), sliced thinly
¾ cup of frozen or canned spinach (approximately), rinsed, drained, and pressed dry
½ cup of crumbled feta cheese (of more, if you prefer)


Slide them in the oven and bake for about 28 minutes. I set the timer for 25 minutes and checked it, so just be aware of how hot your oven runs and plan accordingly. The oven I used runs fairly hot, hence the careful time setting.

Musings on death, and math geek humor.

I think death is beautiful. Without it, nothing could ever be born, or created.
I think the tendency in our culture to make it out as such a tragedy isn't all that healthy in some respects. Now granted, I'm not saying that we should all go out and kill ourselves, or kill other people. Far from it. But throughout the span on time, living creatures and this earth have been dependent on death. If you want to talk cliches, the “circle of life” is a good old die-hard (like my pun?) that is nevertheless rather apt in its description. It's ying and yang, it's dark and light; you cannot have one without a variation of what really is the same thing. Death is simply a state of being, a type of energy, when you get down to the atoms and basic building blocks of matter and energy.
So if we celebrate birth, why not celebrate death as well? A friend once told me that he wants his "funeral" to be a big party, and he wants people to laugh and celebrate, and I agree with him.

I also think suicide is a highly misunderstood phenomenon. While I know I would be distraught and sad if someone close to me did commit suicide, I feel the bravery required for such an act goes woefully unrecognized.
It's interesting, too, that it's a form of taking control of one's life. It's ironic. One takes control of one's life by making the decision to take it away, when one feel powerless in the day to day life. Now from a evolutionary perspective, sure, no creature should purposefully extinguish their own existence, and therefore limit their reproductive success. And yet, the very nature of living things... we are not immortal beings. We live for a time, and then we die. We usually don't have a say one way or another WHEN this occurs. There's a quote in firefly (the TV show) I really like: “Everybody dies, Tracey. Someone's carryin' a bullet for you right now, doesn't even know it. The trick is, die of old age before it finds you.” It's just a matter of how long it takes to find you, and how long you can outrun it.
It's quite poetic and true, I think.
We even die on a moment to moment basis; I am never the same person as I was a minute ago. A tree has to die in order for new trees to grow. People die at every second of the day and night. So to say that "so many people have died lately" is a little silly. People die all the time, and they are also born all the time.
Now this is not to say that everything is perfect, but I do believe that it is not as earth shattering as we make it out to be. The sun still rises, the earth still spins, and the universe is still expanding. As much as we want to hold on to even our closest friends and family... we are not them and can never realistically hold on to them, because control is a fleeting and mystical being that we never really touch.




And now for something completely different!


Good night! More updates on my trip to come soon!

Cuts, inside jokes, guitars, and zucchini!

Kitty and I made “inside jokes” t-shirts yesterday. We decided to go through a bunch of Whose Line is it Anyway videos on youtube and then pick a quote we liked to put on the front of the t-shirt. She chose “I'm not doing very well as a part time giraffe choreographer,” a Colin Mochrie line from a game called quick change, and I chose “Loving you and your pants makes me existential,” a brilliant collaboration from a game called Three-Headed Broadway Star (three people make up a Broadway love song one word at a time). I had a black t-shirt, so I tried a bleach pen for the letters on the front. It didn't turn out how I expected, but I do like the result. On the back, Kitty had the idea of using acrylic paint to imprint our hand prints (one each) in such a way that it looks like wings. Then, we wrote a bunch of inside jokes at the bottom.





All in all, I'd say the project was quite creative and nerdtastic, and I am very pleased with the result. We got all dressed up that evening to go to the grocery store for junk food and makings for chocolate chip cookies (“dressed up” here means: pseudo-punk. I was sporting black capri leggings, my new t-shirt, and a lime green pleated mini skirt. The ensemble was completed with a pair of rainbow socks, and black high tops. It's funny; the lime green skirt is something that is “totally me” but I'm not used to wearing that kind of thing. I guess it reminds me of something a 13 year old would wear. I may have to add something to it so I don't never wear it again.)

Even after nearly getting sick on junk food and cookie dough last night, I woke up this morning feeling really happy. I managed to sleep in long enough that Kitty had already gotten up and left the room, which was just so peaceful. I need my recharge time; I can't be around people all the time with a constant level of energy; I wear down after a day. So being able to have a moment to myself (that wasn't me sitting on the toilet or in the shower) was wonderful. My back was killing me something fierce, but I finally figured out a way to shift the dining room table so I can do yoga; I got in a good 45 minute yoga session. After that, I was pumped up and felt amazing (granted, I was super greasy and sweaty, but that's okay), since I haven't exercised in about a week. It was kind of silly; Dolce came over to me twice while I was yoga-ing, and tried to flop down underneath me so I could pet her. Sorry sweetie, unless you want to join me, you have to get off my yoga mat! ;)

Afterwards I finally got out Kitty's boyfriend's Silvertone acoustic guitar so I could restring it. I suspect the old strings had been on there for years, if not decades. I didn't dare try to tune it with the old strings; I was deathly afraid of getting my eyes poked out by breaking and flailing strings. I put a set of lightweight bronze strings I bought downtown (I picked up an additional pair for my Johnson at home). The tuning pegs for strings 6-4 were a little sticky and hard to turn (I assume due to age), so I was careful as possible. It sounds pretty decent with the new strings on, though I'm not nearly knowledgeable enough to give a dissertation on the sound quality.

Kitty's boyfriend's mom did ask me to try and find out what it was worth, and as a result, find out what year it was, etc, so I took the opportunity to do some digging and see what I could find out. The guitar has a black body with white blocks on the fretboard, instead of dots. I searched for a half an hour or so before I came across a website that listed info on vintage Silvertones from the 1940s to the 1970s. According to the website, this guitar was made somewhere between 1962 and 1966 (I didn't try to locate the serial number) because the white blocks were replaced with dots post-1966.
I made a half-hearted attempt to do some research on value, but honestly, I don't know enough to really be able to come up with a conclusive estimate. I found online sellers wanting everything from $300 to $50.

I finally fulfilled my (other) birthday present to Kitty: I bought a 2 pound bag of henna powder off ebay to dye her hair with. We mixed it up a couple days ago (I think; the days of the week are a little fuzzy to me) and I slathered her hair with green goo the consistency of old yogurt. It was SO much fun, and I even got used to the smell after a while. Her hair is now a lovely shade of reddish copper. It'll settle down to a more solid red in a few days after the dye oxidizes.




I've gotten a chance to try out some new food! We had zucchini pancakes (kind of like potato pancakes, but with shredded zucchini) last night, and they were amazing. Tonight's menu was stuffed green bell peppers (filled with couscous, feta cheese, garlic, and white beans), which was equally delicious. I'm going to copy down the recipes for home; add to my stack of recipes that I still need to put in a book (or box)!

Kitty has also exposed me to the TV show Firefly. I have heard about it for ages, but just never got the chance to view it. All the episodes (all of one season, yay for the scifi channel canceling awesome shows? Haha) are on hulu.com, so I can watch them when I'm NOT in Georgia, too. Amazing! I love the show, even if a few of the male characters piss me off on a regular basis, hehe. It's addicting though; it took me quite the effort to turn off my computer last night (well, morning, but who's watching?) and not opt for seeing another episode. I'll have to see the movie once I'm done with the episodes. :)

When Kitty and I came back from the grocery this afternoon, the dogs came bounding up to the front door with their usual rambunctiousness. Noel (the bigger dog) has the tendency to jump on people when they come back home, and as luck would have it, I was wearing a short skirt. I have a nice three inch scratch/cut on my right knee now. I'm all for joyful greetings, bu I would prefer not to bleed in the process!


I'm still enjoying my stay here. There's been some tension and stress in the household lately, but it hasn't really been affecting me (rather, I haven't been letting it affect me). There are moments where I get irritated, but I've decided I don't need to hold onto it. There are a couple things that I will have to speak up about the next time they happen, but I'm choosing not to dwell on them for the time being. Despite my good time, I will be happy to be home when the time comes. I miss the freedom to come back to my own room and enjoy the quiet and peace of my own company. I miss having my own car so I can come and go as I please, I miss being on my own schedule, my own smells, my own irritations.... pretty much everything that revolves around my own space and freedom. I'm writing this while tuning out other people by listening to music via headphones, and it is so very blissful. I am greatly enjoying this moment of mine. I'd love to share this feeling with you, you reading this. I definitely advocate taking a moment for yourself, to feel what needs to be felt, think what needs to be thought, let go of what needs to be let go of, and just breathe.

Belated updates are lengthy!

I realize it's been a few days since I updated. Partly due to the fact that I've been in South Carolina for the last few days.
We drove up to SC to Kitty's boyfriend's grandparent's house for her 22nd birthday. They have a lake house up there, so we were able to go “swimming” (meaning that she and I were on floating things and splashed around; I didn't really want to completely get in because it smelled too much like fish poo), and get a couple of boat rides. The last boat ride was this afternoon before we left to come back to Georgia, and it was raining. There was one pocket of rather heavy rain, so it felt like getting pelted with little rain paint balls (granted, I've never actually been hit by a paint ball, but it's what I imagine getting hit by a paint ball would feel like).




De, Kitty, and I also drove to Newberry to go antiquing on Kitty's birthday (Friday). I kept finding these awesome “African carvings” that I wanted to take home with me. But I highly doubt my suitcase would have had room for anything else by the time I'd packed all of them. There was one guy for 5 or 10 bucks (can't remember which) that was squatting and had this crazy grin on his face. I loved him! He will remain in my heart for a long time.
But while we were there (Newberry), it absolutely POURED. As in heavy rain, lots of wind, and thunder and lightening. Hello southern weather! At least I got a chance to get rained on during that last boat ride. Kitty and I were giggling and singing merrily (guess which song), and were mildly disappointed when we dried off considerably before we got back to the dock.

On the way back from Newberry we stopped at a grocery store called Piggly Wiggly (oh yes) to pick up a few things (including Parmesan Garlic Cheez-its, which were uber delicious and far too addicting for our own good). Apparently I'm a celebrity there now, because I received three enthusiastic compliments on my hair:
Number 1: A girl came up to me and said “I LOVE your hair!”
Number 2: Kitty saw/overheard a woman smack her husband on the back and say, “Will you look there! That girl has all different colors in her hair an' it looks good!” (Imagine in thick, Georgian accent.)
Number 3: The checker gave me a huge grin, and kind of laughed giddily, saying: “You're hair is so cute! I love it!”
I wouldn't be surprised if I ended up in the local newspaper.


Being here has made me realize how much I really want a cat. I'm going to look into it when I get back, hah. My favourite has been the chihuahua/jack russell/shih tzu mix named Dolce. She is super cute, and is quite the snuggler. She rolls over on her back when you pet her so you can scratch her tummy, and her eyes roll back and then close. You can practically hear her say “Ooooh, yesh yesh, more plz. I luvs you!”


Today, after we came home, Kitty and I ventured back out again to pick up some things and get dinner. (Did I mention that I'm driving a van for the first time? That's the car that's available for me to drive [it happens to be De's] while I'm here, so Kitty and I can go places. It actually isn't too bad. I've only run over a curb once!) My beloved yoga pants have finally met their doom, as the drawstring has broken and they're too big for me to wear without it. Therefore, I needed new ones, as well as new pj bottoms, as my yoga pants also doubled as pjs. My old ones broke the night we got to South Carolina, conveniently, so I had to wear jeans to bed and then sneak them off after people had left the living room and gone to bed. I decided to buy men's boxers as my new pj bottoms, because I've always found them to be outrageously comfy and more fun than your average bottoms from the women's section. So I traipsed over to see what kind they had, and there they were. Marvel Comic Superhero boxers.
Dare it be true?
Are they the right size?

Well, they were a small, but a men's small fits me fine; snug with enough looseness to be comfortable. 8 bucks for this incredible nerdiness? I think I can afford that.

We also came across fake facial hair at a quarter-toy dispenser thing outside of Dollar Tree. Of course we thought it would be hilarious to get some and wear them.


So far my general thoughts on Georgia is that it really isn't that much different from home. Athens is a college town, so I don't notice much difference, except maybe the weather (and the humidity hasn't bothered me much so far). It's almost like a mash up of the places from California. I see pockets of Nevada City/Foresthill, some more suburban-y Rocklin/Roseville, and Davis-esque pieces (especially once you get to downtown where the college is. The only difference is that it's very very hilly, and not flat). What's interesting me are the increased number of baptist churches and the more equal ratio of black and white people. Since Placer County is SO white-dominant it's refreshing to have a change. Even if I had to come to Georgia to experience it for the first time!

Kitty and I are being very silly (big surprise) and lots of giggling has been a result. Her boyfriend has a guitar he was given, and I bought new strings to put on it, so I can use it. Kitty and I have had a running list of silly songs we're planning to write ever since we came up with the “C-Tab” joke, and decided it would make a great band name. (C-tab was developed because we used to send each other <3s (hearts) on instant messenger, and then started sending each other LOTS of hearts, which looked like this: <333333. One of us remarked that they looked like curly butts, and the other said that they were Curlier Than Average Butts. Therefore, C TAB was born.) So we're hoping to get at least a few of them done!

My food issue hasn't been an issue, either, which I'm grateful for. The Kroger's that's near the house has a decent organic section, and there's a Whole Foods-esque place in downtown Athens called Earth Fare that has everything else I need. So, yay!

More later; that's all I can think of at the moment!