Whittles Can Wobble

Happy Birthday, Big Fella!

2012-02-14T16:52:00.000-08:00

Today Arizona turns 100 years old. As it turns out, I am a fourth generation Arizonan; my great grandpa was born in Arizona Territory in 1908, four years before Taft granted us statehood. I have never felt a draw to live in another state. I love it here. Most of the year is beautiful weather and the landscape is hugely varied; from sparse desert to lush forest, in only a few hours' travel. This is the place for me! Keep on rockin', AZ!

Blushing Bookworm

2012-02-10T18:40:00.000-08:00

I don't think I mentioned that I got a Kindle for my birthday. Umm...did I even mention my birthday? Drat. Well, it was on November 13th, which happened a few months ago. I tend to be a day late and a buck short. Anyway! Kindle! I was incredibly excited to receive it! I got the base model, so there aren't many "bells and whistles" like internet access, but I adore it.
At first I felt slightly guilty for turning my back on the romanticism that comes with that new-book-smell, opening virgin pages, knowing my eyes were the first to browse the words, but likely not the last, the excitement that comes with sharing a book. And I can still have that experience, if I have a sentimental reason for owning a particular book. However, the Kindle kicks ass in many ways, and my sentimental leanings have been drowned out by the very cool features of the Kindle. The screen isn't like a typical electronic back-lit gadget; the screen is E Ink, which means it looks JUST LIKE the page of a book, ink on paper, with no back lighting. My absolute favorite thing is the dictionary; all I have to do is put my cursor in front of the mystery word and BOOM! The definition is displayed at the top of the page and I know the meaning of what would have otherwise remained a mystery! My vocabulary is preening as of late. In the past, I would have just allowed the word to slip through the cracks due to laziness. Sometimes I even look up words I already know to get a more clear understanding. This feature alone has kept me fawning over the Kindle. There are some other things, like the ability to rent a library book, or hopping online and owning a book in less than a minute, that are pretty excellent. Some other capabilities are the highlighting feature, and the notes feature, which allow the reader to highlight passages they find worthy of highlighting, or making notes about a particular passage. And the option to choose a text size is excellent, considering I just went to an optometrist and discovered that I'll be needing to wear glasses. So sophisticated, wearing my glasses and reading my Kindle. The only real downside is (and forgive me for being a whiner) when I shut off the Kindle, a freaking ad appears on the screen (like 50% off yoga, or shop at [store name] for good deals). I don't know if I've mentioned my unbridled hatred for pushy and blatant advertising, but that's one thing that irritates me to the core. All in all, that tiny gripe doesn't stand up against the pros that this lovely little reading machine has given me. Happy reading, from one bookworm to another! :D

Bare Tree Decals

2012-02-05T13:47:00.000-08:00

I am currently completely obsessing over these gorgeous bare tree wall decals on Etsy (and elsewhere). They are so gorgeous!

Awww, Fiddle Faddle!

2012-01-21T12:02:00.000-08:00

I just love when alliteration springs up in my everyday life.
"I'm taking my Fiddle Faddle and getting the fuck outta here!"

Mr. Lucky's

2012-01-15T16:56:00.001-08:00

Now vacant, Mr. Lucky's used to be a bar with a big draw on Grand Avenue in Phoenix. The old and faded sign, a sinister smiling joker, still stands as a beacon of what once was. The building is surrounded in chain link fence, and is home to a friendly rottweiler family (mama, papa, and baby rottweiler) who will gladly lick your fingers and chase you along the fence, as long as you befriend the excitable Papa Rottweiler first. Though now closed, Mr. Lucky's holds a special place in my heart. Many moons ago when my mom and dad were young and enamored with one another, they shared a trailer behind Mr. Lucky's - the trailer in which I was conceived. Without Mr. Lucky's, there would be no me. That's a very classy story for me to tell at parties and social gatherings.

Location: 3660 Grand Avenue, Phoenix, AZ 85019-3407

Spring 2012

2012-01-10T17:08:00.000-08:00

School starts next week. Did you hear that muffled sound? Don't worry, it's just me weeping. I'm taking Spanish 202 (the last Spanish class I'll have to take for my degree!), public speaking, and an anthropology class called Stones, Bones & Human Evolution. I've never taken an anthro class before, so I'm actually a bit excited about it. Between school and work, I will undoubtedly be rocking back and forth in the fetal position by April, but I feel like there will be freedom once that Spanish 202 class is over. The foreign language thing has been the most difficult series of classes I've ever taken. I don't feel like I have a good grasp on it; the wheels started to fall off around SPA201 (the 3rd semester), when I started taking the online class. If I had time to burn I'd love to start over and take them all again (or at least the first two) as non-credit classes, just to polish my knowledge. Ah well. I've gotta keep marching. I dream of the day I'll be able to take classes just for FUN, to learn something new. In the mean time, I'll be marching forward.

New Year's 2011

2012-01-02T20:26:00.001-08:00

This year I decided to go to the Fiesta Bowl Block Party for New Year's Eve because the Gin Blossoms were playing. I have loved their music and wanted to see them play a show for years. Tempe is their hometown, so the fact that they were playing where they started the band made me feel all warm and fuzzy. To give my adventure another twist, I decided to ride the Phoenix light rail, which I've been meaning to do since it opened in December of 2008, but somehow never had the right opportunity. Navigating the light rail was surprisingly easy, and was a great way to do some people-watching. People watching is a good time on New Year's Eve because there is such a hodgepodge mix of people; older couples dressed sharply, vagabonds, rotund drunken slovenly folk, spring chickens with tiny sequined skirts and dark eye makeup, all shaken up and tossed in the same pot to stew. Once Richard and I arrived at our light rail stop, we zigzagged our way through the line and were birthed onto Mill Avenue with all the other shiny happy people celebrating the new year. There were stages, a super slide, a ferris wheel, a mechanical bull, an old black man playing his saxophone on the sidewalk for tips (I gave him $1 that I folded into a bow tie, because I'm skilled in the art of dollar bill bow ties), a psychic, and overpriced food and beverage stands. We actually paid $18 for two hot dogs and a drink. I am still digesting that fact, though the hot dogs have come and gone. Once we meandered over to the stage, we shuffled as far up as we could comfortably manage and dug in for the show. I wasn't sure what to expect but I was pleasantly surprised. The singer was perfect and hit every note, and the band was excellent. My love of Gin Blossoms was reinforced and I'm always excited to add a new band to my List of Bands I've Seen Live. I hope you all had an excellent New Year's Eve celebration. Cheers to Twenty Twelve!

Christmas Eve Rant

2011-12-20T16:28:00.001-08:00

One of the things that makes me most angry in the world is intolerance. Who cares if there's a moment of silence in school? Or pledging allegiance to the flag? Who cares if a group of students wants to pray on campus? Who cares if people say Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa? If someone doesn't wish to participate, they won't. I think there should be a mutual respect for all religions. And as long as they're not hurting anyone (like extremists) they should be tolerated and even welcomed.

Values are being whitewashed. Assimilate! Just like the great immigrations; people came from everywhere around the world, and eventually just became the same. They were encouraged to do so. Not to mention the Native American children being taken from their homes and forced into American schools and American cultures. In other countries today people are forced into silence. They will be punished if they try to practice anything but their required religion. I never want our country to be like that. I think the only concern would be for anti-religion in this country. I don't aspire to belong to a plain vanilla society, where people have to practice their beliefs behind closed doors because they might offend someone else. I want everybody mixed together and learning and understanding about one another. I want choices. I want non-judgement. Since when did anti-religion become our religion? It is freedom OF religion that our country has promised us, not freedom FROM religion. That covers all religions: Christian, Jewish, Wicca, Agnostic, Atheist, Buddhist, Muslim, etc.

"Put Christ back in Christmas" they say. Well, sure, if he's in Christmas for you, feel free to put him in. But when someone replies with "Happy Hanukkah" don't get all pissy about it. There's no way to know what someone's religion is unless they let you know. Opening up this discussion in an adult way, which is nonjudgmental and generates from interest in someone's culture, is very healthy. If someone prefers "Happy holidays" then good for them. They are trying to be considerate of all beliefs, and I respect that. But of course there are people who get pissed when they hear "Happy holidays!" These snobby a-holes should get over themselves. The whole world doesn't revolve around them and their particular beliefs.

On the same token, I retreat when someone is trying to force their religion on me. There's nothing that turns me off more than someone getting pushy and telling me what I should believe. One evening (in my teens) I was attending a youth group at church and the youth leader felt it was time to teach us that all other religions are going to Hell. By that time I was already questioning religion, but that really put it over the top. I walked out and was lead to the current belief system which I hold: "I don't know anything."

So many wars have started over religion; I honestly think it is toxic. Hey, religious leaders, you could have thrown us a bone and at least TRIED to foresee people disagreeing with you and starting wars. They might have included something in their religious texts along the lines of "be fucking tolerant"? I think Buddha worked out something similar. Kudos to you, Buddha. You're kind of a badass.

Every December I hear a lot of bullshit being expressed about how everyone is doing it wrong. I guess you might be able to add this rant to the list, but I had to say my piece because I've heard too much about how certain people are bad or wrong or putting Christian culture at risk of extinction, blah blah blah. I'm just so spent on all the negativity and judgement that I had to say something about it. Thanks for listening. Feel free to speak your bit.

Milk, from Cows Mad as Lorries

2011-12-16T19:49:00.000-08:00

Alright, so I don't know if anyone else feels like this about milk, but my emotions regarding milk came as a surprise to me today as well. First of all, I stopped drinking milk when my colitis was going crazy, so maybe I'm not the best person to even HAVE emotions about milk, but I'm going to push forward anyway. This afternoon we were having our annual company Christmas lunch, which was awesome and probably my favorite in all seven years of my employment with the company. We ate at this nice little Italian place with games and laughter and prizes. After our drinks were ordered and served, as I was casually glancing around the room at everyone having a good time, I did a double take when I saw a tall slightly bubbly glass of cold milk. I looked around in search of raised eyebrows of my coworkers and saw none. I thought of reaching out to someone and whispering in conciliatory tones. I resisted. I would keep my milk snobbery to myself, bear the burden alone. I tried to focus on other things, but my eyes kept darting uncomfortably at the glass of milk. Somehow milk seemed totally inappropriate for a professional environment. It made me think of mother cows with babies at their teats. Milk mustaches. Brownies wedged between the small pearly white teeth of children. A substance the should be hidden and sacred, kept within the confines of ones home or the home of very close loved ones. It was milk, warming on the table in a land filled with iced tea and sweating glasses of Coke. Milk, who got pushed around, trying to fit in and being snubbed and ignored and teased by the other kids on the playground. I tried to reconcile the reasons for my recoiling. Is this normal? If I were to visit the home of an acquaintance (not a close, personal friend) would the list of beverages they might offer perhaps include milk? "Would you like anything to drink? Soda? Tea? ...Milk?" I managed to hold down the unsightly sneer my lip was quivering to make, and once the milk was gone I pushed it to the back of my mind, promising to revisit the thought later and hopefully come to a conclusion about the reasons behind my unexpected reaction. All I can conclude is that the film Snatch makes a good point, as follows:

Tommy: You shouldn't drink that stuff anyway. [looking at the milk Turkish is drinking]
Turkish: Why, what's wrong with it?
Tommy: It's not in sync with evolution.
Turkish: Shut up.
Tommy: Cows have only been domesticated for the last eight thousand years. Before that, they were running around mad as lorries. The human digestive system hasn't got used to dairy products yet.
Turkish: Well, fuck me, Tommy. What have you been reading?
Tommy: Let me do you a favour. [takes the milk off Turkish's hand and throws it out the window and it hits a car behind them followed by screeching tires and a loud crash]
Both: [look at each other] Whoops.

It's not much of a theory, but it's all I've got. As a side note, Snatch is a badass movie and I highly recommend it. It's better the second time around, because you're kind of confused until you get to the end otherwise. (Much like Fight Club and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.)

Derby Dames

2011-12-07T19:14:00.001-08:00

Since the first time I heard about it, I've been smitten with roller derby. Bad ass chicks being allowed to act aggressively, duke it out with other girls, and still rock fishnet stockings? Yes, please! I feel as though some day I, too, will be a derby girl. From time to time I find myself fantasizing about what my derby name would be. The movie Whip It had some pretty excellent names. Recently I've been toying with the name Purple Nurple. Think about it, purple fishnets, black tutu/shorts, purple/black shirt layers? No? Perhaps not something so themed? How about Blitzkrieg Britt? Too many WWII connotations? Alright, alright, I'll keep working on it. I hope you do the same!

Meddley of Many Things

2011-12-01T17:12:00.001-08:00

I was lucky enough to be listening to NPR today when Nikky Finney was being interviewed about her poetry. I heard her read a couple and they really speak to me. Poetry is badass and I love the way thoughts and creative expressions slip and slide through my brain. Miss Finney said something during the interview about needing to write every day. I cringed internally because I tend to feel a pang of guilt every time I log into Blogger and skulk through the writing of others without giving back a single word over such a vast amount of time. Have I ever told you that I've been writing since I was a kid? I mean, young elementary school age. Either a diary, or a scrap of paper, or a spiral notebook or anything I could get my hands on at whatever moment a thought strikes me. For years I have slept with a notepad on my bedside table in hopes of capturing a groggy whim. My notebook has been a bit of a dust collector lately. While I strongly resist making commitments, I feel like I should make more of an effort to exchange ideas instead of solely observing the ideas of others. Now that I'm thinking about it, this is the way I deal with new people who I meet in the real world. I am non-committal, quiet, and observant, until I feel safe enough to unleash my true self. So this "observe only" thing I seem to be partaking in really isn't a surprise. I don't know why I've gotten shy all of a sudden. I know I have had excruciatingly little time to get ANYTHING done except go to work, school, and occasionally shower, since this semester began. But I feel like I need to start putting an effort forth for "self time" where I write (or take pictures), even if it's a couple words a day. EVEN IF those words are "I don't wanna" or "avoid the paht thai." Whatever makes me feel like there is an open and flowing dialogue rather than a closed, tiptoeing, take-only relationship going on here. In the spirit of giving, allow me to provide you with a current life happenings update: I recently turned 27. Wooooah, dude. I have officially completed 3/4 of the Spanish I am required to take, with nothing less than a B average. Criminal Justice and Social Work classes are going along smoothly. By the end of Spring 2012 I should have my Associates Degree. Only took me...um...8 years? The lesson to learn here is, when you want something, just fucking do it and stop twiddling your thumbs! Though I did have to support myself all these years with a job and paying for classes as I take them, 8 years is far too many years. Despite the fact that I get down about the uphill battle of schooling ofttimes, I'm pretty proud of myself, and that's a damn good feeling. Moving on. Family chaos, good and bad, has been and will continue to brew. My little brother, Jeremy, just came for Thanksgiving. I love that little Hell raiser; he's nice to talk to and a free-thinker. He plans on moving here in March, and I hope he doesn't change his mind. I love all of my siblings and wish we could be in closer proximity more often (i.e. always). I am wholeheartedly howling Christmas music in my car, shower, and home in general. (I do this all year long, so it feels good to have a specific time of year that it seems "normal" to those who are around me.) I have a cold, but am planning on beating the shit out of it with an onslaught of vitamin C. [Life Happenings Update List: Complete] Seems I've jumped around a bit here, but covered some good ground and have the monkey off my back, if only for a moment, about my lack-of-posting guilt. Stay tuned. "After these messages, we'll be riiiight back!"

Anticipation

2011-11-11T11:00:00.000-08:00

11/11/11 at 11:11I'm not sure why this seems important, but IT SOOO DOES! Eep!

The Insects of All Hallows Eve

2011-11-01T21:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we celebrated Halloween. I had class (lame!) but got out early (score!) and rushed home with a supplemental bag of candy for weary children who had the wherewithal of spirit to continue their tromp through the night. Before I arrived home, Richard was left to fend for himself passing out candy to children with whom he has had very little experience interacting. Over the phone on my way home he recounted a notable experience of his candy dispensing. A little girl in a gray suit with droopy gray wings and a tiara came up to the door. In Richard's attempt to interact with the child he excitedly exclaimed, "Oh, are you a moth?!" The little girl gave her mother an accusatory glance and replied, "No. I'm a butterfly princess." Ouch. Fortunately, Minnie came to the rescue of the other trick-or-treaters shortly thereafter.

Dakota

2011-09-28T22:06:00.001-07:00

Our shiba inu, thoroughly enjoying a nap on the living room rug.

Under Pressure

2011-09-27T08:21:00.000-07:00

Constant pressure. Constant pressure. You press, press, press. Sure, me. I say good morning. You billow out smoke. Psshhhhhhhh. Gonna be one of those days. I reserve myself, Since you said so, I’ll accept it I billow out smoke. Pssshhhhhhhhhhhhh. Thinking of carving out a little nook To hide, relax. But then that puts the pressure on All that thinking What about exercise? Body strain, sweat, heart slamming Purple faced, chest heaving Sounds like more stress. At least it would make me more human. What are we doing here? Fucking ourselves up, For what? We’re all dead men walking, History being made And while the world turns I sit in my box Slamming numbers and letters on various screens And trying to decode the reason For my existence. …Yes, move the decimal to the right, ...Now carry the 2. …Eureka! The answer is…eyes quivering behind black eyelids. Little fuzzy stars popping. Nothing at all.

The Life of A Flower

2011-08-29T10:08:00.001-07:00

I feel a darkness approaching
After so many days of sunshine

I was a flower once, didn’t I tell you?
They chopped my head off
Because they thought I was beautiful
And more valuable dead

Little did they know I’d wither
My hair was crunchy
And the color of dried blood

They offered me sugar water,
Which grew stale
It’s hard to take a drink with your throat cut.
Still, I tried to say thank you.

Then they hung me wrong side right
In a dark place
For days or weeks or months
And they made my corpse
A dusty shrine

I haven’t felt
Much
Like myself
Lately.

Medium Rare

2011-08-26T22:52:00.000-07:00

I think as an adult I suffer from an extreme lack of time that isn't dedicated to something. During my teenage years I had nothing to manage except showing up for school and putting in a half-assed effort. Then I got a job. Then a second job. And before I knew it, I was in a whirl wind of 100% pre-dedicated time. Gone were the days of exploring new music, laying upside down on my bed staring at the ceiling and shooting the shit with someone close to me. I super-pack my time. As I sit here listening to Tracy Chapman-Fast Car and doodling in Microsoft Paint this realization is striking me. I float on a breeze back to a different time in my life. A time in which I really got to KNOW people. Those were the days of best friends, people you could expose your soul to and let it hang there raw between you. Or at least medium rare.

Root of the Problem

2011-08-17T19:56:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the dentist for the first time since...(drum roll, please) 2002! Holy canolie! And guess what? I'm basically the queen of clean when it comes to my mouth because I had NOT ONE SINGLE CAVITY. Not ONE SINGLE thing that needed to be crowned, root canaled, capped, NOTHING. NADA. To that I say Hell-to-the-Yes! ::Fist pump::
In other dentistry news, when I arrived at the dentist office, there was a drunk homeless man sleeping outside the building. To put this drunk homeless man in context, my dentist office is one building away from a liquor store, so it wasn't super surprising. The super surprising part of my story takes place while I was sitting in the chair in the midst of a teeth cleaning session. The assistant came in and informed my dentist that the totally wasted homeless man decided to cool off and come into the office. As I was walking out of the payment area, I saw the sleepy fella snuggling with a stool in the children's play area. I honestly didn't even feel phased by it. What does that say about me? Either I'm desensitized to oddities such as this due to living for quite some time in the city, or that I have a high threshold for weird.
I personally am hoping it's my high threshold for weird.

Rotten

2011-08-06T23:11:00.000-07:00

I try to surround myself with good, quality people. The rare occasional friends or family members that somehow find themselves into my desolate social circle are the cream of the crop. People that I feel I can completely trust and have a great deal of respect for. I'm exceptionally fortunate to have found people that qualify for this position because I am a terrible maintainer of friendships. I spend most of my time with family. Family doesn't require anything more than the occasional holiday visit, which is easily accomplished when there is a delicious Christmas ham, candied yams, holiday fruit salad, and other such special once-per-year items awaiting my arrival. Family is easy. Well, certain parts of family is easy, at least. Some are high quality cream of the crop types, and others...well, not so much.
I was brought up with a hyper sensitive radar in respect to quality of persons. I think it was a survival skill. I've often pondered people in the figurative form, but never really put words to an idea that has been brewing since I was very young. I realized that when it comes to people, I tend to subtract the rotten parts. Since I was raised surrounded by what I can only describe as 'criminals' I realized that there are certain parts of each person that have to be overlooked or subtracted or at least considered when determining in which capacity they can be trusted, because there are people who can be considered trustworthy in some aspects and completely shady in others. Some people I can trust with my life, but not with my money. Some people ALWAYS have selfish motives, so it's alright to be wary around them, even though I might still come out on top. I just have to be aware that they will come out with more and I have to be fine with that. Some people tell you what their rotten parts are, and that makes things much easier. Some you have to learn the hard way and get burned. I think I'm very easy to get along with because I'm constantly considering what parts need to be subtracted from a person and in which situations it is appropriate and wise to do so. I try to consider the whole picture and adjust my thought processes around it. I was brought up to believe that EVERYONE has skeletons in their closet. Some bigger than others. I guess I don't really believe that anymore, but maybe it's good to go into a new relationship of any kind with that idea in mind. Then again, maybe it's paranoid.
I have learned, without realizing it, to follow my intuition. There are some people that are simply unavoidable. People in the family that are part of the package deal, and friends who are shady but are part of a larger friend circle that makes it worth it to stick around. Intuition once seemed to me very abstract and possibly hokey, like witchcraft or God or karma. But when you think about it, people believe strongly in all of those things. So I guess I can consider myself a believer in the abstract. This is a nice idea. I think everyone needs something to believe in, physical or otherworldly. It makes us feel more connected.

Words I Love

2011-07-28T22:41:00.000-07:00

Bouffant
Credenza
Dollop
Kerfuffle
Poignant

Brain spasm: COMPLETE.

BUT THE LIST GOES ON AND ON AND ON!!!

Brain spasm: PROCESSING ERROR. PLEASE REBOOT.

Dork Ego Stroking

2011-07-08T18:42:00.000-07:00

I was running errands this week when I stopped by Walgreens to get my fire hydrant photo developed to hang up at home (my bathroom + fire hydrant photo = doggy equivalent of bathroom = sheer dorky joy!). When I was done with my shopping I went to pick up the photo and they actually made me sign a release form stating that I was the photographer because it looked like a professional photo! My artistic ego was thoroughly stroked. I need to share my joy with you, World! :D :D :D I am also inspired to start taking more pictures; I've really slacked off over the last couple years due to lazy down-time and an abundance of other life obligations. Maybe this was just the boost I needed to begin embarking on photo expeditions again. Hooray for inspiration!

Memories in Music

2011-07-02T11:26:00.000-07:00

Music makes pathways through time. I think of certain eras in my life in terms of particular songs or bands and the feelings they gave me. Music helps to define and sharpen memories. Not all bad, not all good but, regardless, thoroughly experienced through song. In nearly every small and large relationship I've been in, I've always had this desire to make a mixed tape at the end of that relationship to cover the whole spectrum I was given, and share it with the person it was linked to. Of course, that would somewhat defeat the purpose of a break-up, or at least tarnish the finality of it. Since Richie and I have been going strong for a good 5+ years, I suppose it's time to do an intermittent band catalog that defines the musical hieroglyphics of our time together thus far. They are as follows:

The Cure. Bob Dylan. Blind Melon*. Bjork. Fiona Apple*. Gin Blossoms.

*Indicates especially potent.

I would be so incredibly interested in which songs remind people of me, but I suppose there's no knowing, though I am certain they exist. Le sigh. Tell people which songs they are linked to, I implore you! It feels somehow important.

Shower Singing

2011-06-08T07:23:00.001-07:00

Before I begin, let me say that in certain circles I am well known for my unbridled shower singing.
This morning I get a phone call from Richard informing me that as he was leaving the house for work our neighbor came over to borrow a paint roller. Rich came back inside and grabbed one and just as he opened the door to hand over the roller, he hears me belting out from the shower "I love you, for sentimental reasons..." in my loudest Nat King Cole impersonation. Things got a little flustered for him after that, but the paint roller was safely delivered.

The Alphabet Soup Club

2011-05-26T07:23:00.001-07:00

I find that it's very easy to get stuck in life-ruts. When one has a regular routine it simplifies life. You don't have to fight against the current; you are simply riding the tide. I have found myself in a cozy little life nook as of late. I've been working full time and taking night classes and when one is so busy it's "difficult" and "disruptive" to leave the cozy life nook. I was listening to an NPR interview a few months ago about the perception of time as we age. The purpose of the interview was to explore the reason time seems to go by faster as we get older. One thing they pointed out was that everything is a whole new experience for children, they take more detailed information in. As adults, since we've already seen so much, we tend to subtract out the details and look at the whole picture rather than all the tiny elements that make up the whole. The human mind is fascinating in that way, but in a sense I feel like I'm being cheated out of something. That's why it's so important to keep your neurons stirring, adding new elements to the stew so you can pounce on the tiniest details and save them all up to keep the mind fresh and excited, constantly experiencing entirely new environments and people and ideas.
This makes me think of those people that push the belief that "you should live every day like it's your last." While this is not practical for the structure of society that we have built for ourselves, there is some wisdom in the concept that I can appreciate. It's up to each individual to go out and grab the bull by the horns and shake things up, even if it's just in a small way. Small things build memories and make experiences thick and husky and significant.
In the spirit of new experiences, my comrades at work and I began a weekly lunch outing we affectionately named The Alphabet Soup Club. Once a week we go to a new restaurant starting with the next letter of the alphabet, A to Z. Without realizing it, I have been taking in loads of tiny details from each new place, storing it and analyzing it and considering whether I'd like to repeat the experience and return to the restaurant. I know this is a very small event, but I find that it has been really valuable for me.
It's important to always be conscious of the way we are living. If one starts to stagnate or get bored with the way things are, it is up to the individual to make a conscious effort to shake things up. When we wait for change, our life is in the hands of fate. When we make changes, even if things don't turn out the way we plan, we hold the power.

Happy Birthday, Bob Dylan

2011-05-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

Today Bob Dylan turns 70 years old. In a time when much of our music is auto-tuned, washed out, and starving for a message, Bob Dylan endures. Richard and I got the opportunity to see him a couple years ago when he played at the Arizona State Fair; I love the idea that I got a chance to be in the same room with a man that helped to shape history through his music. Cheers to helping make changes and letting your freak flag fly, Mr. Dylan. Rock on.

The Art of Sumo Wrestling

2011-04-24T11:24:00.000-07:00

As I strapped on my inflatable Japanese sumo wrestler costume (my newest yard sale find) and bounded around the house making sumo sounds, Richard trailed along behind me declaring "THIS is why Whittles* are always late!"

*Little does he know, it's the other side of the family - my hillbilly side - that is to blame for my excessive lateness. And who could resist trying out a new Japanese sumo wrestler costume?

Feed the Birds

2011-04-24T00:06:00.001-07:00

This is one of my favorite ultra contrasty photos from my recent trip to Florida. I was there for five splendid days. This photo was taken while my mom, sister and I were on a glass bottom boat racing with dolphins. We were tantalizing the seagulls with Cheetos; they would swoop down and pluck them right from our fingers. All around extraordinary.

And now I have a compulsion to share a Mary Poppins clip for you which sparked in my memory when I saw this photo. My brain is a stew of movie quotes and songs and, though it may be painful to admit, I basically have a good chunk of this movie memorized.

John Whittle Jr

2011-04-22T16:00:00.001-07:00

My great uncle John Whittle Jr passed away on April 14th. He was a wild fella in his day, and he lived a full life. He was one of those magical people that could light up a room. Picture taken circa 1957 during his time in the US Air Force. Handsome devil.

The older I get, the more people die. It's a clear law of nature, but something I never put much thought into. I believe that death is one of the hardest parts of being an intelligent life form - awareness of how persistent time is and that we don't stand a chance. Animals have it easy in that respect. Death can be kind, when we're prepared and have an opportunity to say our farewells. I'm grateful that we had the chance to say goodbye. I'll miss you, uncle J.

Saying Goodbye

2011-04-07T22:05:00.000-07:00

Death waits for him, hooded, stretched at his feet, while his children cross miles.
He is welcome, so he is kind.
Dark fingers sprawl on knees. He bides his time.
He wonders what floats through the traveler's mind.
Perhaps of his children, or things unfinished.
Love wells up around him in a chorus. Not yet an angel's song.
Death, he waits. Graceful and, above all, sincere.
He reminds his traveler of a job well done. He hums a tune in a deep baritone. Promises answers to the ultimate mystery. Arouses excitement and human curiosity.
He drifts between two worlds. A signer to a timeless future, where dreams are born for the living by their dearly departed.

The Tortoise & the Hare

2011-04-06T15:13:00.001-07:00

I just made up this genius quote while at work:

"Slow and Steady may not always win the race, but he certainly enjoys the scenery more."

BAM! Genius!

Too Much Good Stuff

2011-03-26T10:31:00.000-07:00

Perhaps you may have noticed the frequency of my blogging coincides exactly with my physical and emotional health. Sad me = lots of blogging, poetry writing, picture taking. Happy me = very little creative output. I suppose you can put that all down to "tortured artist" effect. (As an aside, I can NEVER remember whether to use affect or effect, despite countless drills and useless memory tricks.) You will note that this is a happy spell for me. Life is pretty excellent. I'm planning a trip to Florida for a week to visit my sister. My brother just had a birthday, then two days later, my sister had her birthday, THEN two days after that my niece was born. I wish my life could just loop in the month of March for awhile. It tends to be one of my happiest months. Not to mention I'm on very effective medication right now, so no tummy troubles to speak of. The weather is excellent. I just got a hammock for the sweet price of free. My animals are living in harmony. I'm going to school. Working. Managing to still have fun.
I've been writing since elementary school and the opportunity to look back on years of life records via written word is sort of enchanting. Sadly, I have lost most of the journals I kept when I was really young, but since high school I started keeping better track of the writing. I have always had dry spells, and I'm sure it was during times in my life of great happiness. It gets me to thinking I'm really cheating myself out of some excellent memories by only recording the bad stuff. Which ALSO gets me thinking, I'm more the type of person who will remember when a wrong has been done to me than a right. I'll be attempting to put forth a more conscious effort to display the whole shabang going forward. I can't promise there'll be more poems that make you feel all glittery afterward, pictures of flowers or fuzzy kittens, but at least a bare bones effort to let ya know I'm still thriving. Hooray for good times!

1/4 Century and Counting

2011-03-12T18:30:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was my brother's birthday. I remember all the love and war we went through as little tykes together. Now he's a quarter of a century old. Man the time does fly. My brother is one of my best friends in the world, and I can't think of anyone else I would be as happy to grow up with. Happy birthday, baby brother. I love you!

Hair Spiders

2011-03-05T10:26:00.000-08:00

I never realized how personal the subject of grooming can be until I sat down for this post. Richard and I have two different bathrooms in our house, and since we're the only occupants I have claimed the hall bathroom as my own. His bathroom is pretty much uncharted territory for me. However, a few months back, there was a problem with the water pressure in my shower, so I used his. My shower has a little removable drain for trapping wayward hair that I clean out after every shower. Since Richard's shower didn't have one, and I didn't think to extract mine before I used his shower, I became a watery hair trapper of the first order. I would not let his drain be troubled with hair! It was my duty as a guest showerer! So throughout the process of hair washing I would do a little trick I like to call "the palm roll" where I'd take hair in my palm and roll it around until it became a tight little hair ball. During said shower, I generated two small hair balls that I sat to the side, beside the bathtub plug, to pick up once the shower was over. Only I didn't pick them up. I completely forgot about them and went on my merry way.

CUT TO A FEW MONTHS LATER

On Monday evening I came home to a very frazzled Richard. He was giving me a list of complaints about his face, shoulder, arm and knee being in pain.
"What happened?" I inquired.
"Well, I was taking a shower and went to move the bathtub plug and I saw these two spiders underneath of it. One of them jumped toward me when I picked up the drain, so I tried to get to the other end of the shower to get away. Except I couldn't because one of them was still attached to the drain plug that was in my hand, so I dropped it and tried to get out of the shower and I slipped and fell and hurt myself." He paused for a moment to give me a hard stare. "You know what I realized then?"
Now, the moment he mentioned the bathtub plug, I began trying to wrestle with concealing my laughter and simultaneous concern as the cold hand of guilt slithered up my spine.
"What did you realize?" I said, hardly able to hold down a booming laugh.
"I realized they weren't spiders at all. They were your hair. I WAS TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM YOUR HAIR SPIDERS AND I SLIPPED AND FELL IN THE BATHTUB!"
As you may imagine, tears of laughter ensued.

The Man, the Myth, the Muppet

2011-02-28T21:09:00.001-08:00

I recently discovered a show from the 80's on Netflix called Jim Henson's The Story Teller. (You may remember Jim Henson from his part in The Muppets. Hooray for The Muppets!) The idea behind the show is that a character sits around his old fireplace and tells his dog stories based on popular myths and legends. It really brought to mind that the art of storytelling is dead. Certainly Western culture has whipped up a replacement with television, movies, radio and internet, but gone are the days when a man or woman can sit around and rhythmically weave a story to an entranced audience. Media has created an outlet that shapes our minds to think in tiny fragments rather than to be immersed in a hypnotic tale. They slap in a massive speckling of commercials and advertisements to keep our mind racing and sucking in information, but never interacting or using our own minds in turn. Mushy minds are made of those societies without story tellers, my own mind included. I just find this topic sad and thought provoking. Where have all the story tellers gone?

Worms

2011-02-18T15:16:00.001-08:00

So my house was built in the '80's with the idea of some family eventually putting in a pool some day. While the pool was never built, we still have a bathroom that has a glass sliding door directly to the backyard. This would make perfect sense, and even be wise, if we had a pool. But, alas, we do not. So in the spirit of ghetto fabulous-ness, we decided to paint the sliding glass door the same color as the house. This kept the world out of our bathroom-business.
Richard and I: 1
Smart ass house builders: 0

In time the paint has developed a few pin-prick sized holes in it which allow tiny rays of light to enter the bathroom. One day I was inspired to bring in my camera, set the shutter speed to "painfully slow" and wobble about with the camera for a bit. This was the result:

On Camels and Straws

2011-02-10T20:42:00.000-08:00

I saw this little gem on an employee warning notice recently:

"This was the camel that broke the final straw."

I laughed a good, hard laugh. It still sneaks up on me unexpectedly in times of solitude and draws forth much creepy alone-time laughter.

The Scent of A Lady Bug

2011-02-07T21:02:00.000-08:00

Since I live in a tiny triangle (Home --> Work --> School. Repeat.), Richard is my main source of entertainment. What's great about him is the fact that he is always getting himself into peculiar situations.
A few months back, he was going to do a cabinet installation in a gated community. The guard at the gate came out and asked him the usual questions, and just before he let him in Richard nonchalantly stated "Wow, it really smells like lady bugs out here."
The guard looked at him with unease. "You must have seen that landscaping truck come by hauling those sacks of lady bugs. He was just here about 10 minutes ago. No one can smell lady bugs" replied the guard.
"Oh really? I didn't see any landscaping truck."
"Yep, full of lady bugs."
"Wow. That's weird. Haha." (Awkward pause.) "Well, see ya later..."
Richard called me shortly thereafter and expressed his shock that the fellow didn't know what a lady bug smelled like. Naturally, the scent given off by lady bugs was completely foreign to me. In his own words, they smell "like a walnut that's a little extra bitter when you crack into it and eat it," and also "dark and waxy."
Yeah, just try farting around a guy that can bloodhound the scent of a ladybug.

A Very Belated Birthday

2010-12-24T11:17:00.001-08:00

I'd like to get into the habit of taking a birthday picture every year to watch myself age in a strange flip-book some day. I've been thinking about doing it for years, but when it's that time of year, I just...don't. I regret it every year. So my November birthday pretty much went by on here without a whisper, but as of over a month ago, I'm now the ripe old age of 26. Herein will be my first yearly birthday picture, and with any luck, there will be many many more to come.

In other life-news, I passed all three classes with A's. Yesss! Now I've only got...a kazillion more credits to get my degree. :/ Gotta keep on truckin'!

Southern Man, Better Keep Your Head

2010-10-18T07:35:00.001-07:00

I've often found my self intrigued by quotes from Southerners. Somehow there is a backwoods saying to fit every occasion. I'm trying to store them in my broken tattered memory, but since writing things down is nearly the only way to keep anything in the leaky bastard for any length of time, here are a few that come to mind:

Fine as frog hair.
Low as a hogs belly.
Cold as a witches tit.

(My title is for Neal Young, who is a king among men.)

Yep, I really did just make a whole post for a few quotes. VERY worthwhile quotes.

Ever Evolution

2010-10-01T11:33:00.000-07:00

I am shedding skin,
Behind me the scales stretch on for miles
White and papery
How long since I’ve looked down?
Looks like ages.
The fresh bits still sting
And tug on living organ

Surprising, my inobservance.
This paper world shifting under my belly
I always feel very myself
In my skin,
But to notice the evolution
I must have been tweaked here and there
Betrayed by my silent self

Patterns shift
As I search the imprint for clues
Paper scales crunch though my fingers
Ah! There’s something
A swirl instead of a triangle
And, my! I’ve never seen that before
Pushing me to a surprising path
Shifty eyes make sure no one watches
Crush the bad decisions,
Search for stretchiness on the good ones

I see dreams in there, too
With fuzzy edges
Of fear and sex and people long shelved
I can’t even make out that face awake,
The magic of dreams enlarge and examine
Forgetfulness

I observe my fresh self
Primer gray
Awaiting impression, color, life
Only to be left trailing behind
Ever evolution
Molds, nudges, pushes, squishes
Until my crisp papery person pervades
Then you’ll find me in a generation of dreams
Blowing away

The older I get, the less I believe in.

2010-09-28T22:16:00.000-07:00

I'm sure someone has said that before, but it just came across my mind and it's astounding how much truth there is in it. My thought didn't specify anything in particular, so to appeal to my own curiosity, I typed "the older I get, the less I believe in" (with quotes) into Google. It's actually quite depressing how age can so often and easily trump hope.
These are some of the top search results Google brought me back:
"The older I get, the less I believe in the idea of the major artist as shaman plugged into the cosmos." (ooook, that one is a bit out there, but...)
"the older i get the less i believe in the meant to be thing. if you're not doing anything nothing's going to happen." (too true!)
"The older I get, the less I believe in real love, soul mates, and that Hollywood nonsense." (Agreed!)
"the older I get the less I believe in fairness" (unfortunate, but true)
"the older i get, the less i believe in the possibility of finding happiness." (Oooh, I have had that thought a time or two)
"The older I get, the less I believe in coincidence." (Thought provoking)
"the older I get, the less I believe in true love"
"The older I get, the less I believe in University degrees as a test of capacity"
"The older I get, the less I believe in dreams coming true."

I bet everyone can finish this sentence, and, if you're feelin' froggy, I'd love to hear what some of you might have to say.

You've GOTTA See This...

2010-09-17T22:41:00.001-07:00

I was lucky enough to check out one of Blogger's suggested reads and found this little gem: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ I cry laughing every time I read one of these. If you're down, Charlie Brown, I suggest you take a peek at this glorious blog.

Polishing A Turd

2010-09-08T07:24:00.001-07:00

Whew. It's awful quiet around here. What can I say? I've been doing well. I started school; I'm taking a computer class (CIS105), World Religions & Cultural Diversity and the Media. The latter two are actually fun.
Also, I went to Los Angeles this past weekend with Richard, my brother and his wife. All weekend we did what Richard has affectionately dubbed "polishing a turd." Trying to make something good that really isn't good. LA is not a beautiful city. The people are interesting to watch. The bathrooms at Venice beach either have shit in the toilet and cold sandy floors, or shitty underwear crammed into the corner of the stall. It was grubby and I have a new appreciation for the cleanliness of Phoenix (try to stifle your double takes about that one). I think no matter where one travels, it's good to get the opinions and suggestions of several locals and plan a couple fun things. Manhattan Beach was pretty nice though, so I can't complain about that. And no matter where one is, the ocean is immense and overpowering and awe-evoking. It was just a bit difficult to focus on that with all the hoards and hoards of rickety people and various forms of shit. We also got an opportunity to observe a street performer hammer a long nail up his nose and simultaneously swallow and un-swallow a billiard ball, which is always excellent. (I gave him a dollar I had fashioned into an origami bow tie.)
Sending good vibes that you're all doing well and riding a cool un-ending wave of happiness. A bumper sticker I saw today sums up the way I'd love to view life: "No Bad Days" with a shady palm tree over the top. A lovely little something to strive for.

She's Only Missing Neck Bolts

2010-08-20T15:51:00.001-07:00

Often times when we have company over, Richard pulls me aside beforehand and requests that I don't talk about the dog, please. And I guess maybe I get a little carried away from time to time, but I feel like people coming over should be informed about why Dakota looks like a small hairy Frankenstein. She's a real wreck. I've never encountered a dog that has a funky odor less than a week after a bath. She's (still) suffering from some extreme allergies and guess what? I'm taking this moment to type about the dog. What? I'm not TALKING about the dog. TYPING isn't the same as TALKING. (Another loophole found and conquered!)
We've tried Prednisone, Benadryl, some other OTC allergy meds, the dreaded pink doggy cone, supplements, diet change, eye drops, ear drops, bag balm, mother apple cider vinegar, putting up a fence to keep her out of the vast grassy back yard, and STILL she is a scratching, hair-missing, eye gooing, toe bleeding, stinking, limping dog.
When did animals become so expensive and start having health problems? Until this whole episode with Dakota I was in the dark about such doggy dilemmas.
Having a dog with health problems is a really painful experience. I feel like I should be doing something; taking her to the vet, running tests, getting her on more meds, but DAMN that stuff is expensive! Or maybe she'd be better off in another environment, another state, another family.
Then there comes the guilt, tromping in uninvited. Then the realization that there are so few options and a little blip comes across my radar wondering if she is suffering and by keeping her around instead of considering putting her to sleep I'm being selfish. It's so hard for me to even allow the thought to cross my mind because even though she mopes around and scratches and licks her face until there are patches of hair missing, she's ALIVE and breathing, and isn't that worth it? Is that my decision to make? How can one assess if and when a creature is ready to be removed from their suffering?
Tomorrow I have an appointment with the vet. I consider this a last ditch effort to getting her healthy again. If she doesn't have any affordable options, I'll try and find her a new home in a part of the country that isn't so immersed in pollen and pollution and allergy-provoking problems, maybe she could stay with a family member since I don't see who would be willing to take my furry Frankenstein. I won't bother to venture into further speculation, because I can't face option 3. Not just yet.

Waiting is the Hardest Part

2010-08-06T14:34:00.000-07:00

I have a problem and that problem is me. I am a procrastinator. The worst procrastinator in all of Procrastinator Land. I can manage to keep myself structured in a work environment, but in my personal life this problem reigns supreme. I don't know if it's the thrill or anxiety of an encroaching deadline or something else, but I hold off on things that would be simple for anyone else just because I know I can. Then at the last possible second I buckle down and slam myself into a whirlwind and somehow pull of the impossible. I'll always put off today what I can do tomorrow. I never bite off more than I can chew; I nibble the tiniest bites so there is no chance of biting off more than I can chew. I think this is my worst trait and holds me back more than anything. I rarely start anything that I can't finish because I set myself up to avoid committing to anything that may be too challenging. Maybe it's a fear of some sort. I want what I want immediately, but I will wait as long as possible when I'm the one responsible for making things happen. That way, if something goes wrong, I can't be held responsible and easily convince myself in the mean time that the problem may work itself out. Mostly? It doesn't.
I typically steer clear of self help type stuff because a lot of it seems hokey and fluffy and WORK! So much WORK! On myself! Something that isn't tangible but resides in the raging carnival that is my mind. I think I may have used up all the 'self help' space in my brain for movie quotes and song lyrics. With trembling hands I proclaim, I may soon be haunting my nearest bookstore's self help section, sulky, red-faced and resistant.

Talking Heads Spoke to Me

2010-07-23T22:19:00.001-07:00

Sometimes people, lots of people, draw themselves into little boxes. I am guilty of this. There was a time when I found myself wedged into a tiny nook from which escape or attempts at trying to be my real self was uncomfortable, like a new baby being birthed into the world and screaming to go backward. I was listening to a Talking Heads song today, Seen and Not Seen, that perfectly explains the process. One day we look in the mirror and it's not our face we see. Something along the way began to veer and, for me, I paid very little attention. When I finally glanced back up, it wasn't my face or clothing or eyes or anyone or thing I recognized. I peered at myself and felt like breaking out, arms and legs splaying wildly, pushing away from the safe cocoon which enveloped me. And people helped me to stay in my cocoon because it made them more comfortable too. My skiddish head dodged out of dark corners and one white spidery leg would try to poke out into the light, rapidly recede when others took notice, poke out again and make timid awkward first steps toward truth. I remember feeling like I couldn't be anyone else but the avatar I had created; grungy, pent up, angry, trying to keep people out and alone to the point of splitting in two. I was my own prisoner, diligently stacking brick and mortar up around myself. I'm not sure what changed, but I must have taken a shortcut back to freedom and let myself go.

A Strange Stranger

2010-05-25T22:30:00.000-07:00

i don't know you
Your words are a mix matched medley, a patchwork quilt, of borrowed dialogue
slang of the distasteful type, entrancing you to tee-heets, teh-hets and trouble
saying i'd be proud of you

i knew someone once
that was prideful, but her voice was plump and husky, the kind that makes you fall asleep
or feel seduced

the luster of past has blotted present
reality garbled up

i unfolded my mind around you
when you walked into the mush, with a new hillbilly botox voice, i shut you out
folded my wrinkly pink brain around what you usta-was
guarded by armor of resistance of reality

i don't see you now
you dream of me when I was Little
i share your dream, suckle the poison out of honesty and spit it out,
caressing your shell

but what's in there is empty

if I have a picture, i wear it thin, rubbing your face in memory of our past until it's hard to remember, any face but the picture
a mugshot, a still frame, real smile or fake, i can't tell

so i weave a story of your day, a golden shining sun
a floral print dress, smells of a home-cooked meal
i stitch out a reality, true or false, and circle one.

choice made.

Gnome Obsession Reveal

2010-05-23T21:58:00.000-07:00

I love lawn gnomes. I've been searching for a plain classic garden gnome for several years. I know they exist, but despite my tireless search have not been able to find one that isn't holding a wheel barrow, slouched on a mushroom or doing something other than just standing in place grumpily with a pointy red hat. Some day the search will prove fruitful, I know it. Until then, my little buddy here was in a potted cactus when we moved into the house and he has served as a worthy lawn ornament. He's only about three inches tall and is in a perpetual state of slumber. His name is Henry.

TriLyte & Scope Update

2010-05-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

Oh. My. Goodness.
Last night was one of the most terrible medical experiences I've ever had to go through. Despite my extreme TriLyte preparation and tips, I only got through about 2/3 of the jug...most of which ended up being vomited right back up. Thankfully it was enough and the colonscopy was still performed. I literally cried with relief when they let me know I could still do the scope. I couldn't fathom attempting to drink that stuff a second time. Don't think I would have made it through.
I was super dehydrated and woke up through the night with a splitting headache. They had a hard time finding a vein to put the needle for my vitals in because they had all decided to collapse from lack of water. Once I was down, all went smoothly. I still have inflammation but with the Sulfasalazine I'm doing much better and I'd really like to keep this up. Afterward, I went out for some killer delicious sushi and then followed that a couple hours later with some Mexican food at my favorite local place, La Piñata. And a piece of Dove dark silky chocolate. I am so relieved to have that behind me.

Important Tip:
The desk girl at my GI's office said that most people that have less to eat on the day before their liquid diet tend to be able to handle the TriLyte with much more ease. Unfortunately for me, I decided to ignore that information and be a total and complete glutton. I even had to sneak in a bowl of Cheerio's with rice milk right before bed as my last hurrah. I am, indeed, a moron.

TriLyte Colonoscopy Prep

2010-05-20T19:23:00.000-07:00

I tried a few different recommendations for my TriLyte prep and if you want the short version of this somewhat lengthy vlog, here's what I concluded:
Use super cold water
Use a straw and drink from the back of your throat so you don't have to taste as much
Flavor packets: Pineapple was ok, cherry comes in second, then orange, and lemon lime is the loser
Crystal Light mix was so-so
Apple juice was so-so
Gatoraide is not a good idea
Definitely a good idea to have a chaser like 7UP or some kind of ginger ale

Wish me luck. I'll need it.

The Importance of Trust

2010-05-17T22:14:00.000-07:00

How important is trust in a doctor patient relationship? I'm not talking about the kind of trust that the doctor will perform the job to the best of their ability, but rather the motivation behind their practices as a doctor and the ethical vs financial aspects of care. There are some doctors that clearly have a pull toward their career because they want to help people. Others are money motivated or status motivated. Maybe some have had doctors in the family and that was just what was expected of them. To me personally, it seems like something that matters.
I bring this up because my colonoscopy is scheduled for this Friday. I've been on Sulfasalazine for over a month and I've been doing great. I almost feel like a normal human being a good chunk of the time. Therefore I'm not sure I understand the reasons behind my upcoming procedure. My doctor said he'd like to do the scope because he wanted to find out if the UC had spread further. But to what end? Even if it has claimed new territory in the colon, I'm doing much better on the medication I'm currently taking and I really don't want to change anything. Some people would just let sleeping dogs lie and if/when the symptoms got worse, action would be taken.
Is it normal for doctors to just scope to their heart's content? It's not going to be cheap, despite my health insurance I'm paying a pretty sizable chunk out-of-pocket. My first and only colonoscopy was done in 2006 (ish?) and I stopped seeing a GI and tried to handle it on my own. How often should one have a colonscopy done? What usually triggers one in the first place, if a doctor already knows your disease? Should I get a second opinion? How important do you think it is to trust that your doctor is listening and trying to work with you on your journey? Anyone that has an opinion or past experience, I would love to hear your take on this.

A Hopeful Ripe Leech

2010-04-28T20:44:00.000-07:00

My brain feels like a leech that's been sucking for too long. It's ripe and ready to pop. There are only two options for a ripe leech: gorge and burst or drop off and wither. The semester is almost over. So many things are swirling around. Funeral, family coming to town, final exams, colonoscopy, photo projects with deadlines. It's hard to put all these things in their own little compartments. I like to have a nice, flat, ironed out life. Things are particularly wrinkly at the moment.
Today I learned that the Spanish word "esperar" simultaneously means "to hope" and "to wait." There is something poetic about that. You wait for that which you hope for to come true. If it does come true, you no longer need to wait or hope; if it doesn't, you resign to the fact that what you hope will never take place and therefore is not sensible to wait for.
This is another item that my leech has been gorging itself on. I'll have to risk popping. I've come too far to drop off and wither.

Shelton Lamar Denton

2010-04-23T18:25:00.001-07:00

Baby Bayou

2010-04-22T20:24:00.000-07:00

Shh. You didn't hear that, did you? It was a small sound, like a ripple in a pond. It was a universe dying. Today my grandpa took his last breath. I feel ill prepared to deal with death. It waxes and wanes and if you're not in it, it tends to keep its distance, lurks around corners and pops out without giving you a chance to reconcile the transition of warm hands and scruffy kisses on the cheek to cold hands that seem distantly familiar, or a mouth that turns to quick sand and falls into itself. I will never hear that deep Southern drawl again, singing songs, laughing his deep laugh that came from all the way down in the bottom of his belly. He'll never be able to tell me about that time he lassoed a whole herd of bees and drove them from one side of the country to the other. Never tell me how him and grandma were masters of the Jitterbug. Never sing the baby bayou song. I can hear his voice in my mind, but I'll never be able to hear it out loud again. His plants won't be watered, no one will write on his calendar and I'll never again pop one of his warm tomatoes in my mouth from right off the vine. No more ice cream cones or dill pickles.
The thing is, he was ready. But when he left today I maybe feel more sad for us. There were so many questions whose answers died with him. Promises of future visits, and excuses for putting off visits. He was so big; big voice, big hands, big deep belly laugh. He felt immortal. How does a great big being exist my whole life time and beyond, then just flicker out? A universe died today. It took with it questions and answers and comfort and worry and wondering. I wasn't ready yet. The sound was so quiet, you may not have felt it. But it's rumbling through me. And for the life of me, I can't figure out where to put all this.

Canon EOS Rebel XSi

2010-04-21T21:55:00.001-07:00

Since my early high school years I have had an interest in photography. I finally took the plunge and, after many years of drooling over nice digital cameras, I splurged and bought a Canon EOS Rebel XSi. My first 35mm camera was a Canon Rebel, so I kind of have a soft spot for them. Despite my guilt in spending so much on a camera, I am super happy with it. And honestly, I can only pine for so long until I have to break down. With my 35mm (on which the auto focus feature never worked) I was able to take photos for four different weddings and various other projects so I figure I've paid my dues.
I get a bit of a magical feeling when I go out to take photos; you really have to look at things. In day to day life, I rarely take the time to actually stop and look around. One can really find lovely images in the oddest places. I took this shot on her maiden voyage around my neighborhood:
I love the man vs. nature juxtaposition and have taken LOTS of photos that play on that. Something about that theme can hold my attention. I also like this particular shot because it has a lot of color.

Blind Melon

2010-04-19T20:28:00.000-07:00

When things are going shitty I find myself singing this little tune by Blind Melon:

They have a few songs I really dig. If you like that little jingle, you should check out their song Soup or the song Change. They are lovely :)

Flowers (and Other Escape Routes)

2010-04-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

How does one leave ones vessel?
He said I have no vessels
And this is what irregular looks like
Ah, I’m down.

Sometimes leaving requires
A vacating of spirit
With a bright red exit sign
And dripping finger stems.

Some folk take a mind vacation
And come back down
Reminded of their perch on the ceiling
As they looked below at themselves

(This makes things seem smaller than they feel)

Sunnyside up
They cook me before I can break my shell
And see what this is all about
And grow meaty legs or drumsticks

But all that’s real is here, bricks and mortar
So I just have to get taller
Break the ground as I squirm upward
Bloom.

Though I’d sometimes rather stay weak and green,

I have to feel this.

Assholes

2010-04-14T22:32:00.000-07:00

I had my followup doctors appointment today. Bleh. I'm feeling like a piece of old meat. I don't know if it's my sense of paranoia of the system or just good sense, but when I see my doctor I see little dollar sign mirages in his eyes. Like a rat sniffing out a piece of cheese.
He had three student interns in the office today, which means you can add the regular discomfort of a usual doctor visit and multiply that by three. And these interns were my age, so as he's going through my history and spouting about the amount of bloody stool I pass per day and gazing at the computer screen displaying images of my last colonoscopy, he informs them that now they've seen an irregular colon. Well thanks a heap, man. He could at least put a P.C. spin on it and say a "special needs" colon. Just irregular. Well, pardon me, but I'm feeling rather regular lately, not that you asked, Doctor Man.
His oval spectacles settled on the end of his nose as he was asking me why, oh why, did he put me on Sulfasalazine rather than Asacol? Or blahblahblahazine. I interpret this as "why didn't I put you on something that a pharmaceutical salesperson would give me a spiff for?" I had to fight tooth and nail to get on that dadgum generic, and I won't be put on Asacol and upped to 12 friggin' pills a day, thank you very much. So I fought him on it again, in front of three medical students, one of whom was text messaging in the midst of the situation. Pardon me, medical student, but could you spare a moments attention and act a little professional so as not to add to the mounting discomfort of your presence? Might as well have picked his wedgie while he was at it, and talk about how nice that chicks tits looked who was sitting in the lobby. Then popped a zit.
Grumpy? Yes. Yes I am. And here's the great reveal: I have to get another colonoscopy. He says he's afraid my UC may have possibly went further than on the first scope in 2006. I don't know why he thinks this has taken place. Then as I was checking out with the desk girl, I had to sign a slip that says they disclosed that he has "personal interest" in the surgery center. What does that mean? Personal interest? I'd like him to show a little personal interest in my health. I feel yucky and a little pissed.

Swiftest of Lizards

2010-04-12T19:04:00.000-07:00

I've always had a fondness for lizards. I remember trying to catch them as a kid, sometimes accidentally pulling their tails off in the process (don't worry, they grow back), and acting as their protector when the younger kids wanted to do mean things to my scaly friends. Since we got my cat, Jari, we found that he loves to hunt lizards and bring them in as gifts if he's in trouble. I appreciate the gesture, but I spent my youth as a protector of lizards and I feel a bit torn when Jari presents us with these little gifts.
My dog Dakota recently came down with a terrible bout of allergies; she's itching, green gooey-eyed, having trouble breathing and rubbing her nose feverishly in the grass. We took her to the vet and they prescribed prednisone. (Who would have thought my dog would be prescribed preds when I haven't?) They worked for the first week, then we had to start tapering them down and now she's getting one every other day and back to being miserable. All we can do is wait out the season of extreme pollen in the air.
The other day, Richard walked by the dog who was laying listlessly at the end of the hall and saw that there was a (dead) lizard laying in front of her. Apparently my cat went out on a hunt and decided to present Dakota with a little gift because he's noticed her recent downheartedness. I've never realized how capable animals are of showing compassion and kindness to their fellows. And just for that moment, I was pretty alright with letting go of that small death and opening up to his way of understanding.

New Meds & Doctor Ball

2010-03-27T12:16:00.001-07:00

Some Things You Can't Fix

2010-03-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

When there’s a problem, I fix it and it’s fixed. Sometimes you have to compromise. Sometimes people dislike what the solution is, but there IS a solution. The solution can’t be “no solution.” When there’s a real problem, there’s a real solution. A fix. A repair. A light at the end of the tunnel, even if it’s a little dimmer than people would like. But this isn’t like that. It’s a coming and going and mistrial after mistrial and I keep giving things up and trying this and that but it feels like it doesn’t matter. I am a bystander strapped behind a glass wall watching things happen to my body that I have no control over. I get tired. I don’t want to take meds that aren’t natural and introduce a chemical to my body for it to function right.
I sometimes wonder why I was the sperm that made it. People are out there living normal lives with no idea what might be lurking. I always felt an undeserved sense of pride when I thought of my health before, like people who are sick could have done something to prevent it. Now I want to look back on that and kick my own ass, and tell myself to eat more ice cream and cottage cheese because I’ll never have that again. Save some money and travel and experience life while you’re still normal and not fucked up and looking for the bathroom the moment you step into any building, hoping no one else is in there so you can be alone with your misery. People take it for granted. I take it for granted when I’m just “pretty well, considering.” But when I start to sink I remember; there was a time when I welcomed death every morning. Not that I would seek it, but I had the thought that if it found me, it’d be a reprieve and a blessing.
I heard someone say that they thought their body was trying to give them a break at those moments they felt good. I was surprised by that. I’ve always felt angry with my body, like it’s turned against me and it could fix this thing, turn it around and make me normal again. I don’t know which is true. I guess it’s just a bunch of parts that, for some mysterious reason, don’t work right together. I guess it doesn’t matter. I won’t come up with a solution. But the moment I start that sinking feeling, the fear creeps in and I wish I wasn’t the one that made it. And I wonder who all you would be without me. Was the creation of my life worth the humiliation and pain?

Dollop Lust

2010-03-16T17:22:00.000-07:00

So my guts have been off kilter for a couple weeks and I decided randomly that I should fast for 24 hours to give the ole meatbag a chance to catch its breath and hopefully get back to normal. I am a food lover. A lover of food. If I could, I'd just sit around all day eating things because they're so delicious. (Can you tell I'm hungry?) Since I'm horrible at not thinking about eating when I'm hungry, I was having a mind-gasm over different things I could be eating. Big juicy burger with lettuce, tomato, extra pickle, mustard, a side of thick cut fries swimming in ketchup. Fluffy baked potato slathered in butter, melted cheese, sour cream and bacon bits. A steaming bowl of vegetable stew.
In the midst of my food fantasies I realized that I have a favorite word. That word is "dollop." Anything with a dollop on it is automatically outstanding. A dollop of butter. A dollop of sour cream. A dollop of hot fudge on ice cream. Unfortunately, dollop is often associated with dairy products. Dairy products were one of my greatest losses when I found the more I ate, the worse things seemed to get in the tummy. So now I shall have to cling to my dollop fantasy. And it's back to the trenches with plain white rice and chicken breast for a micro dinner. Ho hum.

Razor Burn & Sadness

2010-03-13T10:03:00.000-08:00

Lazing about yesterday night it occurred to me that men are now beginning to shave things other than their faces. The word shave makes me unhappy. Shaving is such a lame waste of time for so little benefit. I did some research and found that this horrible craze for shaving began for American women in 1915 as a result of some ad campaign that convinced women that if you don't shave you're unhygienic. Society embraced it and now women are all screwed because society would freak out if we didn't shave. If I saw a woman with truly hairy pits, I would feel the need to point it out to everyone I knew and gawk. Damn me for playing into this ad generated ploy.
True, men have been shaving their faces since forever, but men, I implore you, hold your ground with the rest of your hair! Don't make society flip a magical switch and convince you that shaving your chest, arms, armpits, legs and nether regions is the way to go! Too many men are shaving their chests for that slick, tanned poolside look. Football players shave their legs so they can tape them up, but when the season is over some keep shaving! I've seen men clip down their armpit hair! As someone that is forced to shave because of society's standards for femininity, please, stop this madness! At the rate men are going, this thing will snowball and leave them with nothing to show for shaving but razor burn and sadness.

Bathroom Shoe Etiquette

2010-03-01T21:06:00.000-08:00

Hello, Face!

2010-02-27T21:25:00.000-08:00

Little Debbie & The Roach

2010-02-23T20:26:00.000-08:00

Ooooh, my friends this night, it is a glorious night! Perhaps to you it seems like a plain, regular old night, nothing special, maybe even a sub-par night, but for me?! For me it is GLORIOUS!!! With exclaimation points! And capital letters! Why? Because I just got the title to my car in the mail. They received my final payment and now, after five painful excruciating years of sacrifice for a piece of metal that I am not at all fond of, I own La Cucaracha. Begrudgingly refered to as "The Roach."

To celebrate? Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pies. This round is on me.

Texts From Last Night

2010-02-15T06:32:00.001-08:00

This website is hilarious. If you can pull yourself away, you'll thank me later.

If the link doesn't work, try http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/

...you're welcome.

Between The Mustard & Disco Fever

2010-02-01T17:44:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Rich and I were at the grocery store shopping for some BBQ goodies when a disco song came on as background music. The typical grocery shopper tends to ignore the tunes being played and go about their domestic duties with little attention toward the music selection. We were strolling down the Snack City isle when I lost Richard to some enticing packaging and went about my way with the cart, my ears perking up at the funky disco selection playing over the store speakers. Before I knew what was taking place, I was somehow overpowered by Disco Fever and found myself twitching my hips, flicking my neck and doing a disco strut right down the isles of Snack City. I was so lost in The Fever, that I didn't hear Richard's attempts to call me as I disappeared down another isle, twitching in my disco funk. He caught up to me a good three isles after I'd lost him and informed me that he witnessed several clusters of children take note of my dancing and get lost in their own disco infernos, prompting confusion and surprised looks from their parents. He said all he had to do to find me was follow the children bobbing around. We shared a thunderous laugh in the condiment isle.

Spring 2010

2010-01-19T20:49:00.000-08:00

I started my Spring 2010 semester tonight. I'm taking math and Spanish. Both my teachers seem nice; math teacher more than the Spanish teacher but we shall see. This is the last math class needed for my degree! ::joyful jig::
On a related topic, I refuse to pay over $200 for a blasted text book that should cost no more than $50, so I buy online (Amazon, Craigslist, half.com, etc). The only problem there is that there may or may not be a certain disc included in my Amazon purchase that is absolutely necessary for my Spanish class for test taking and the like. Book-writing swine! Taking advantage of students as though they have money to throw around on a ridiculously overpriced text book. Bah! Shame on them!
On my walk from the parking lot to class this evening, I discovered, due to the unexpected downpour of Arizona rain, that my shoes are, in fact, not water tight. I may have been clued in about this since my shoes have gaping holes in the bottom, but those holes haven't affected the performance of my shoes so I paid them little heed until this evening of puddle-avoiding and soggy socks.
Moral: Double check online purchases and always wear water tight shoes on a potentially rainy day. Solid words to live by.

Squaw Peak (aka Piestewa Peak)

2010-01-18T06:29:00.000-08:00

My brother Josh and I went on a hike yesterday and I selected two of my favorite quotes to share with the world:

"Let's keep going bro. If we stop now I might just wobble right of this damned mountain."

"Hi, Griffin." (said by Josh as a greeting in passing to someone that we observed tagging his name on a rock at the top of the mountain.)

Josh had also just purchased new work boots, so he decided a good way to break them in was to wear them on our hike. Well, he made it all the way up with the boots on, but found that he was rubbing a terrible blister on his left heel. Rather than suffer the whole hike down, he decided it would be best to remove the boots all together and hike down in his socks. Best hike ever

Putting On The Squeeze

2010-01-12T17:38:00.001-08:00

I guess I've been listening to too much NPR lately, because I'm actually starting to have political opinions. It's a very strange thing, this transition. Sometimes when I have an idea in my head, I just have to write it, no matter if it's 3AM and I woke up from a dead sleep with something clanging around in my brain. I can't rest, I can't focus on the task at hand, I just have to get the idea out because I'm afraid it will vanish and I won't know that part of myself. I've never had that feeling about anything political, but earlier today it happened, so I jotted down a bit of a rant. Goes a little somethin' like this...
I don't think we should take money from the wealthy and give it to the poor; I think the wealthy should be practitioners of morality, offering excellent benefits and wages for excellent employees. Pay people what they're worth. The wealthier someone is, the more powerful they are. The power shifts from the middle class and lower class to the upper class. The more powerful they get, the less they are in touch with and concerned with the standard of living of the average middle and lower class employees that work for their firms and companies. They cut wages. They cut benefits. They expect the same amount of work for less and less. They get richer, they realize they can get away with it, and they keep taking more away. Then other corporations observe them and realize they can do the same, and they take away too.
And the middle and lower class claw with bleeding fingers for a way of life and an American dream on two incomes that was once attainable and sustainable on only one. They live paycheck to paycheck with mounting credit card debt and one medical emergency or layoff away from living under a bridge and leeching off the system, getting on welfare and being forced into taking when they are willing and able to work a job. And forget about saving up for retirement. We'll all be working well beyond a reasonable age.
We take taxes from the wealthy and redistribute the monies to help in government programs and pay for things like welfare and medical insurance for those that can't make ends meet. These people would be fewer if the beginning of the chain held fast to a sense of respect and duty to those that carry their load. Those that want to work should be able to work and live at least a simple life on the money they earn. Now the wealthy put on the big squeeze, give the middle class the bird, and end up paying the lower class to stay unemployed because it's easier than trying to squelch out an existence on BS salaries.
I don't want to take anything from anyone. But I do want the wealthy to be moral and if they're not willing to do that, everyone, including themselves, is paying the price.

Ringing In 2010 With A Good Burning

2010-01-01T18:34:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year 2010!!!
For New Years Eve Rich and I traveled to the depths of the desert (sort of) to my aunt and uncle's place in Buckeye. The fact that I spent the evening with family rather than getting shitfaced at a bar or party was refreshing and simultaneously yet another nail in the coffin of my adulthood. I can't help it; I'd rather be hanging out with family than just about anything else. Plus they tantalized us by grilling steaks, cooking up some black eyed peas and making a cilantro cucumber salad. I wasn't sure exactly who would be there, but brought along the game I bought myself for Xmas, Taboo.
Taboo was outstanding and hilarious, despite that we got scolded repeatedly for making my cousins baby shriek in his crib due to our boisterous game antics. I also met and fell in love with an insanely fluffy white puppy and then poked much fun at my uncle, snoring like madness on the living room floor. I guess New Years Eve just isn't a holiday cut out for the elderly (bah hahaha! he would be so mad if he read that).
But my friends, I have saved the best part for last: The Christmas Tree Fiasco. After our unruly game of Taboo, we all headed outside for the traditional burning of the tree. They have moved their fire pit into the gated pool area, and directly under the branches of a sprawling Palo Verde. The tree was dragged to this location, supported by logs at it's base, and stood directly upright for maximum burning effectiveness. Directly upright under the Palo Verde tree. Within inches of actually touching the branches. Both Richard and I inquired as to the intelligence of this idea but were promptly shut down with the reasoning that the tree was, in fact, alive and would therefore not catch fire. My cousin got a butane torch and set it ablaze and we watched a spectacular show.
You could see each and every pine needle as it burned; it was like the tree switched to some sort of luminescent organism as it released its energy and turned into ash. There were flecks of flame flurrying through the night air like some sinister backward rainstorm. The branches above the fire pit caught flame a little, but went out with no incident, then we roasted marshmallows over the bare, charred tree trunk. And that is how I rung in the new year.

The Queen of No

2009-12-30T18:42:00.000-08:00

Rich & I just got back from a walk with the dogs. We went to the park that's about a mile away and it started raining in teeny tiny drops. I love the smell of rain on earth; it's probably my favorite smell in the world.
It was an incredibly pleasant stroll. My legs are clicking and pulsing because I haven't been active in awhile and I totally needed that. Sometimes I can be the queen of "no" and it's refreshing to get out of that groove and start doing things. I always feel better about life when I'm being active and not just sitting around "no"ing all the time. Despite that I know this, I can be terribly difficult to motivate. Must break the cycle.

Let's Get Physical....Physical.

2009-12-24T14:51:00.000-08:00

I've been putting this post off for too long because things are getting entirely too shit oriented around here. That and, frankly, I'm a horrid procrastinator...but you already knew that.
One of the bloggers that I read (Martin from Number Twos ) requested I post something regarding an offhand comment I made on one of his posts. I said:
"I find that physically demanding activities typically push my UC aside for that little window."
This was apparently the wrong thing to say because now I feel I must impress my fellow blogger by posting something thorough and thought provoking. I totally got called out.
So I've been allowing this elaboration to simmer in my brain juices for many moons because I always put off today what I can do tomorrow.
What I meant by my comment was that in the worst bout of my UC flare, when I used my body for physical activity it seemed like my symptoms took a back seat. If I was running or doing yard work (hah! like that happened more than once!) or chasing birds at the park (too weird?) or basically anything physically demanding, it sort of drowned out the pain and urgency. Once I stopped moving, things would come back into full swing again, but for those moments of losing myself to focus on a physical need, I was largely dormant.

Things that may be wrong here are this:
1. I am mostly well at the moment. I can talk a lot of stuff about what it was like, but unless I'm there to re-test these memories I don't feel 100% confident in their accuracy.
2. Physical strain on the body may have caused the UC to take a backseat for the moment, but it may have also irritated the situation once the stress on my body was over.
3. From what I've read of other bloggers, my UC sounds like it was less severe (at least thus far). I have gone through hell with my body and I don't want to understate what an immense impact the UC has had on my life; I still deal with it every single day. What I mean is, the worst of it lasted for about a year and I have not yet had to get on steroids or consider a colostomy. I might in the future, and when/if the time comes I'll deal with it as well as I can.

I hope this answers the question. If not, email me. I might get back to you in a few months :D

Fall 2009 Semester

2009-12-21T16:39:00.000-08:00

School is out! At least until mid January. I got A's in both of my classes, ENG102 & SOC101. Pretty easy, just took a lot of time and I'm the worst procrastinator this side of the Mississippi so I make things much more intolerable than they really should be.
I had the roles of my teachers way off; the ENG teacher was actually pretty awesome and nice, despite his outward grumpy seeming exterior. SOC teacher was so-so, but he was a big fan of hearing himself talk and getting up on a soapbox about how horrible anything non-liberal is. Not to say I didn't agree with some of his rants, but they wasted time we could have used for something useful. Like learning how to riot.
I have already signed up for next semester with a math class (the last one I'll need for my major!!!!! WOOHOO!!!!) and Spanish. I've been wanting to learn Spanish for a long time and I already know quite a bit from high school, and I've been told I have an excellent accent ::straightening my bow tie:: I will feel very cool going to Mexico with my sister-in-law and visiting her family with my future sweet Spanish skills. Gotta put in the work though... At least I'll have people to practice with :D

Christmas 2009 Wish List

2009-12-05T11:58:00.000-08:00

I've compiled a ridiculously over-jewelry-oriented Christmas list this year. There are a few other (awesome!) things I want on the list too. Turns out I have caviar taste on a mac'n cheese budget, so I just "fantasy shop." Last year I emailed one of my cousins pictures of gifts I would have gotten her if I wasn't broke. It's the thought that counts, eh?

$9.00 Etsy Anatomy Magnets We got a magnet board for the office and we are now collecting magnets. These things are awesome.

$11.50 Etsy Aqua Glass Wire Ring I met the super cool chick that made this. I grovel at her talent.

$20.00 Etsy Intestines Pendant** This is my feeble attempt at finding a cool/interesting thing about Ulcerative Colitis. Would be a hell of a conversation starter.

$20.00 Etsy Anatomical Heart Tote Seems I am a tad anatomy obsessed at the moment.

$20.00 Bed Bath & Beyond Jewelry Tree To take the place of one of the zillions of jewelry boxes I have tucked here and there.

$27.00 Guesstures Game Incredibly fun when company is over.

$27.00 Taboo Game This is one of my favorite family games. You must be a true wordsmith Jedi to be successful.

$44.00 Thermometer Necklace Functional and effing sweet.

$55.00 Etsy Industrial Heart Pendant** I'm in love with these things.

$60.00 World Links Necklace** AHHH!

$60.00 Level Necklace Again, functional and effing sweet.

$70.00 Oragami Crane Necklace Super cool. $70?!?! This thing didn't have a snowball's chance in Hell.

$70.00 XX-Hi Converse I think my angry youth is coming back to haunt me on this one, but it was love at first sight..a couple years ago when I first saw these. I'm haunting shoe stores in hopes that some day they'll go on a reasonable sale or (crosses fingers) CLEARANCE!

$76.00 Knee High Moccasin Boots Everyone I knows thinks my Halloween hippie costume suited me all too well. It's items like this lurking in my closet and a patchouli scent wafting around the house from time to time that seals the deal.

There ya have it! If you know anyone as weird as me, they might just find some of this stuff appealing :)

(Note: All items in blue are links.)

Ladies Guard Sergio The Hound

2009-11-28T11:01:00.000-08:00

We ended up taking on an unexpected new addition to the family. Above is the new guy, Sergio, who is a Great Dane and only 4 months old. Beside him is Dakota, our 4 year old Shiba Inu, who is obviously dwarfed by the mammoth Sergio. Jari, our cat, has decided not to be photographed at this time. He has also refrained from making comments on the matter, aside from the occasional hiss or batting at the face of an overly curious monster pup.

Thanksgiving Shit-nanigans

2009-11-28T10:01:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday. I love food and there's no pressure to buy anyone a stinkin' gift. I hate buying gifts when I feel obligated to do so. This was the first Thanksgiving I've not gone to my aunt's house and I really am an old dog; I'm not much for change and breaking new ground on holidays is not one of my strong points. Rich and I spent this year with his family; first we went to his aunt's house and then after (over)stuffing ourselves and enjoying a bit of conversation, we headed over to his dad's place for round two of our eat-a-thon. It was really an outstanding day. I lucked out with Richards family; they are all excellent, intelligent and fun people to spend time with.
As Thanksgiving is a food oriented day, this tale was predestined to turn into a poop story. My life is very poop-oriented. I was going strong that day, stuffing my belly and throwing caution to the wind! During the evening, however, after our second lovely turkey dinner of the day, I felt a rumblin'. I acted swiftly by excusing myself and darting for the nearest bathroom at hand. Things seemed well enough; the bathroom was a fair distance away from the crowd, the fan rumbled to a start (I love a good, loud bathroom fan) and there was even a convenient Pumpkin Spice room spray on the back of the toilet. I knew I was about to create a massacre, so decided I'd give the room a few good sprays of pumpkin spice scent to mask (or mingle...) with the Parfume de Arse I was about to drop. By "a few good sprays," I mean six sprays.
Now, often with any scented aerosol room spray, it takes a bit for the stuff to really cover an odor. The six sprays seemed standard. That is, until I started choking. My eyes were watering and I got this tickle in my throat that wouldn't quit, so I was hacking it up in the bathroom, trying to finish my business, eyes watering, and I looked over to see my pumpkin spice savior said "concentrated." Welllll, isn't that just rich.
I got up and began scrubbing frantically at my hands, holding my breath as long as my body would allow. I couldn't have been in there for more than a few minutes, but it seemed like time slowed down as my face began to flush red and I gulped in different regions of the bathroom, searching for a place that was not yet penetrated by the overwhelming pumpkin-shit-spice scent.
Finally, I dried my hands and got the hell outta there, leaving the door cracked and hoping against hope that no lonely child would wander in there trying to take a leak and discover himself choking, causing a surge of adults to accompany him and speculate about who the culprit might be, thus forever branding me the pumpkin-shit-spice bandit of Thanksgiving 2009.

The Big Two Five in Sin City

2009-11-19T18:42:00.000-08:00

On Friday, November 13, 2009 I turned 25 years old. That's a quarter of a century. I remember being in elementary school and looking up at the big eighth graders and thinking of how lucky they were to be so old and sophisticated. It seems the older I get the younger all older people seem. Like now I would consider maybe 65 to be "old," but still potentially spry and sharp. When I was looking up at those eighth graders they were 12 and I had stars in my eyes just imagining the ripe old age of 12 and the freedoms that came along with it. I have also always felt very 'in the moment' of my age, like I'm a whole person at whatever age I am. Then every year I go and surprise myself by realizing one or another stupid decision or choice I made the previous year. In a way it's humbling. There will always be so much that I don't know.
Enough of that; let's get on with the fun part! My dad flew in early from Colorado for my birthday and had a surprise brewin' for me. He asked if I could take Friday off from work (granted!), and held out on telling me what we'd be doing. On Friday I woke up to a text message that said "Vegas baby!"
Awesome! I had always wanted to check out Sin City and my dad was the perfect person to go with because (a) he knows his way around and (b) he's pretty badass in general. On the drive we stopped at the Hoover Dam and I can now say I hovered at the Hoover. Hovered over a very smelly porta-potty, that is. I also took some awesome pictures (not developed yet :x I need to break free of the 35mm world) and the drive gave us plenty of time to talk and catch up.
We stayed at the Tropicana hotel and saw two shows; Cirque De Soleil-Ka' and later a dirty/hilarious hypnosis bit.
For anyone planning on going to Vegas, make sure you bring your walking shoes because I was tuckered out from the insane amount of roaming in my Chuck Taylors. Also, I advise you take out your rage on those damned swarms of porn distributors that stand in long lines up and down the Strip. If I didn't want a LIVE NUDE GIRL! who DOES WHATEVER YOU WANT! the first three times, what makes you think I'll want one the next two thousand one hundred forty seven times?! Also, bring lots of money. And don't put it in those flashy machines because you will lose it. The only machine we won on was one of those mega oversize slot machines. After which all money was promptly lost. Thank goodness I am not a lover of gambling.
So much diversity! I saw pimps (literally) reciting the slogan "if you ain't hoe-in' you ain't goin'!" and shaking their canes around, I saw platinum blonds with tiny skirts getting into a limo, a guy wearing bling and a fur coat with sunglasses (at night), a bum rummaging in a bus stop trash can to fill up a cup with old leftover beer from the night before and every other type of person in between.
Best birthday trip ever!
(Above: Pops & I in a Vegas hotel)

Beware The Mighty Prune

2009-11-02T20:46:00.000-08:00

I’m going to start off by saying, hesitantly, that I love the taste of prunes. They’re delicious, sweet, wrinkly snacks. Since I was a little girl I would smuggle them from the refrigerator or take deep, cool swigs from the jug of prune juice my great grandpa kept way back on the shelf (certainly in an attempt to thwart my prune juice reaching).

It had been awhile since I enjoyed my childhood treat and on Sunday (Halloween), my brother and his wife came over and brought an enormous sack full of them. We were having a vegetarian BBQ in order to celebrate their recent lifestyle change in becoming vegetarians. Neither Richard nor I have taken the veggie plunge, but we take any excuse we can to assemble and this sounded like an interesting theme. We packed our bellies full of a variety of grilled squash, veggie burgers and a spaghetti squash veggie medley I found online. The festivities were a hit! Then something happened. I don’t know who invited this unwanted bane-of-my-existence, but my great aunt Flatulence made her entrance.

Did I mention that Richard and I were going to a Halloween costume party later that evening? I’m sure the excessive vegetable intake didn’t help. My body was not adjusted. But to further worsen this tale, I decided I’d eat three of nature’s laxatives, PRUNES, without batting an eye.

Ah, my old friend the prune. The prune is stealth itself. He looks so innocent sitting there bagged, like a dark skinned old man, hunched and pitted, mushy and polished with age. Beneath that frail skin is a sleeping giant. I awoke the giant that night. Under my hippie caftan garb a slow and steady rumblin' started rolling through my belly and by the time we got to our Halloween party I thought I might soil myself before I crossed the threshold. I don't think my patchouli oil scent would have covered a horrendous odor wafting from beneath. I scurried to an off limits bathroom and grappled with the stealthy old devil. Beware the mighty prune.

Monocle & Coat On A Porcupine

2009-10-22T21:09:00.001-07:00

Over the weekend I had some family come into town for my second cousins wedding. Included in the hullabaloo was my mom, two aunts I hadn't seen in at least 9 years, their daughters and THEIR kids, all from Texas. Taking photographs for this wedding was much like taking snapshots at a rodeo, except all the country folk were wearing button up shirts and trying not to cuss in church. It makes me think of trying to put a monocle and coat on a porcupine.
These visitors all played major roles in my childhood and it was very eerie to see them reconvene after all these years. We all went over to an aunt's house on Sunday afternoon; the adults were in their own circle in the living room, and one of my cousins and I were sitting on an askew couch, observing a twisted flashback. A flashback where all the young druggies were now old druggies. Instead of talking about doping, they were instead talking about their health problems caused by the reckless youth and young adulthood. It was almost as though they never were apart. The room was hazy with their chain smoking and my lungs burned. Voices that I once knew jabbered about how their kids had been taken away and of other 'injustices' done to them in their using days.
Except those voices that were once fresh and authoritative are now rusty and they've lost all their power. It's a strange thing growing up and watching yourself surpass those that seemed so big once. I hope as I age that I can continue to look back, rather than just look around, wasting away in the same old space.

39,999 More...?

2009-10-10T17:42:00.001-07:00

One of my baby brothers graduated from Air Force Basic Training this weekend. It's been very weird watching the last two grow up. I remember when my mom came home from the hospital with the two little bundles, one in each arm. They wreaked havoc in diapers with little blond mullets and sang songs I'd come home with from school. They would laugh so hard that it was impossible to not laugh with them. Now they're finally separate and starting their own lives hundreds of miles apart. I doubt they've ever gone more than a couple of days without one another until now. I never had a tangible connection with the war until the last few years (my sister has been in the USAF for a couple years), and now that I can feel it hitting home in such a literal way I just hope that the next eight years is better spent with thoughtful planning, stronger strategy and no more senseless missions. We're sending our babies to war. There better be a damn good reason.

Slice O' Life

2009-10-01T19:46:00.000-07:00

A brief overview of my day:

1. Went to work
2. Went to school
3. Canceled gym membership
4. Bought Dutch apple pie

Sometimes you just gotta create your own silver linings.

The Hunter Gatherers Had It Right

2009-09-30T17:28:00.000-07:00

I saw a segment of one of Obama's speeches regarding education and how he'd like to expand the length of the school day, open up schools on the weekends and to make children attend school year round. There was some great stuff in his speech, but this segment kind of pissed me off.
Summers are GLORY TIMES for kids. Sweet freedom. Sun burns, junk food and sprinkler frolicking. The reasoning, he explains, is that we need to keep up with other countries that typically attend school a full month more per year than our students. Aren't we one of the top countries for creating technology in the post industrial era? I would think that implies that we're doing something right.
He does mention recruiting and rewarding good teachers and no longer making excuses for bad ones. Yesss! This is exactly what we need. I absolutely believe in education, but I also believe in enjoying ones life and not being crammed indoors for hours upon hours. LIFE is education. EXPERIENCES are education. Kids will be missing out on life and getting programmed for 12 hours in a cube all day. That's not the life I want for kids. It doesn't feel right.

John Adams said, "I am a warrior, that my son may be a merchant – and his son may be a poet." To me this raises the question of why we now need two incomes to survive and I see my co-workers more than I see my family. There are people alive today that had, in the past, the solid understanding that if they work hard every day, at the end of the day they could go home to their families and know that things were alright; there was enough money to provide, they didn't have concerns over their health and they could make it on a single income.
I feel detached from my livelihood; what does sitting in a box for eight hours a day have to do with my survival? I think this is part of the reason so many people have issues with depression and other anxiety disorders. They are detached from their biological makeup.It feels like no matter how hard someone works today, they're still only getting table scraps, barely keeping their head above water. I would hate to think we're programming our children for the same kind of life.
(Image is George Tooker's Landscape with Figures.)

Happy Birthday, Wanderlust Mom.

2009-09-19T22:37:00.001-07:00

Happy birthday to my mom today. She is 46.

I was discussing with someone how fortunate and grateful I am to have my siblings. When I hear someone speaking badly of their own siblings I am truly sad for them. Siblings are sort of their own brand of magic, contributing to your childhood and providing you with a leg up on memories that would have otherwise been forgotten. They get you. They get where you came from and the reasons for your aspirations of where you're going. They are a whole other world that you get to sneak preview in the intimate way that no one else can. They're guaranteed to always be around. You can have a blow out fight with them and make up within the hour. They forgive and really let it go; they hold no grudges. They wish you the best and mean it with all their hearts. When they ask how you've been, they actually want to know the answer and don't shy away when it's a bad one. As the eldest, I watch out for them and lecture them at length when [I feel] they need lecturing. When I need a shoulder, I have four sets to consult. Nothing beats it. I am better because of them; to this day they continue to make me want to set a good example. The mind blow here is that these whole worlds are spinning around because of poor planning and lack of contraception. Life is a miracle or a really funny joke. Neither would be disappointing.
Back to 46. The last time she came back we had a good brawl and bawl and she actually told me that she used to resent that she had the five of us because she felt like we took her life away. Then when we were taken away by dad she thought "What am I supposed to be doing again?" and instead of doing something, she just drifted. I have had a wide range of feelings about her, anything from pity to anger to plain astonishment.
I still find myself in want of that relationship I see between mothers and daughters, but I've had several women in my life that are powerhouses and have provided me with motherly goodness and I'm thankful for that. I don't know if I seek this out, if it comes to me, or if it's just how women are geared-instinctively guarding and guiding one another. I am happy to be a woman; we allow and encourage each other to feel. Men are often taught to suppress emotions in order to retain their manliness and save face. I would feel so trapped by that.
So for my mom's birthday I will say thanks to her for the good stuff, the wild ride that got me where I am today, and for making me four amazing siblings. I can't go without acknowledging the role my dad took on as both parents when we moved in with him and he picked up the pieces; without him I would be in a pretty lowdown spot. I will also express my thanks to the women in my life that have given me guidance, encouragement and the strength to laugh at myself when the shit hits the fan. Sometimes that's all we can do.
(Photo: Me, sister & mom)

Home Remedies 101

2009-09-09T22:35:00.000-07:00

Note to self: Using vinegar as a household cleaning agent or perhaps as a compliment to a dish is one thing, but gargling with vinegar...

Me: "Where's the vinegar?"
R: "In the laundry room."
Me: "Is it contaminated? You know, with bleach or some other weird concoction you've come up with?"
R: "Nope, good to go."
[I go and get the vinegar, then proceed to take a hearty swig and gargle with it. As I'm choking and gasping for breath, which-in terror-I realize I cannot catch, I think I hear a faint giggle in the other room.]
R: "Did you just gargle with vinegar?"
Me: [through coughing and wheezing] "Yes! I'm thinking maybe that wasn't a great idea. There is liquid coming out every possible orifice of my face."
R: [outright laughter]

Apparently Richard had just done this a few days ago when he was sick and wanted to wash out his mouth. Once I could breathe, we laughed together.

No Longer Ready For A Hug

2009-09-09T07:31:00.000-07:00

As of yesterday, I'm sick. Eff you, nature! As if I didn't have enough trouble with my southern end, you have to go and throw in a whole different region of torcher! I shake my fist at thee!

Spin Cycle

2009-09-06T17:48:00.001-07:00

In case you hadn't noticed, I was away for awhile. I flew out to Colorado for my brothers "wedding" last week (they were married in Mexico almost two years ago, but hadn't made it civil...so...we...civilized them?). Took a few days off work, missed my second night of my ENG102 class and didn't even think twice about not going to the gym. We can rarely get that many of us together, so there was much fun to be had along with bickering, teary eyes, heart to hearts and lack of sleep. Oh, and snacking; can't forget the snacking. My UC was mostly merciful despite an argument with my sister that left us on a sour note. Overall a swell time.
Then I got back and for a good solid week it felt like someone threw me in a washing machine on "Extra Large Load-Spin Cycle." I was up to my ass in work, missed homework, regular school work and, YES, despite all odds I decided to punish myself and go to the gym one night. Thank you Labor Day for a much needed three day weekend. Below you will observe an example of a very happy...pre-washing machine me. It looks like I'm ready for a hug.

Intestinal Ills

2009-09-05T15:55:00.000-07:00

While browsing at a local book store called The Bent Cover, Richard and I came across this cool old book called "Intestinal Ills." I thought it'd be interesting to read and see how it relates (or doesn't relate) to my woes with Ulcerative Colitis. It was printed in 1918, original copyright 1901. Author Alcinous B. Jamison, M.D.. I have only read the first chapter but I've already seen some truths that I can relate to and some untruths that are a little far out. I suppose it wouldn't be much of a page turner unless you had interests of an intestinal nature. I daresay I do.

First Impressions

2009-08-25T22:53:00.001-07:00

Tonight classes started for me. I must say, I'm very zombie-esque after a full day, from 8AM-9:30PM, of sitting on my ass. Most of this time was spent in front of a computer screen. Would it be super nerdy to admit I really missed reading my book, Drums of Autumn, this evening? I'd rather be doing that than most things right at the moment. I'm hooked; 4th book in the Outlander series.
Anyway, about school...
The first class is ENG102. This promises to be very lame after going in tonight; it's going to be all about writing research papers. Ugh. I was really hoping to be able to read some good novels and have character/plot discussions and write papers on my opinion. Damn facts! And Works Cited pages! The teacher also seems very grumpy and speaks as though we're a high school class rather than college; plenty of time was devoted to lecturing about being on time and not missing classes. Blah blah blah. Hellish, indeed.
The second (and last) class of the night is SOC101. It is only one day a week so it's extra long. I really liked the instructor--you can tell when they actually care about the subject they're teaching--and the content sounds interesting. I didn't have much to add as far as participation tonight because I was feeling pretty spent. Haven't been sleeping well. Keep dreaming that I'm reading and then half waking. This might be a sign that I should stop reading for several hours at a time. But really, I've always had these sorts of dreams; dreams where things are incomplete and I just keep pushing on under impossible circumstances. Usually happens when I'm doing night classes (they're baaaack) or when I have two jobs and I'm working over 60 hours a week. Thankfully haven't had to do that in about two years. Ok, so I'm rambling. Must retire for the evening. Adeu!

Damn Alligator Bit My Hand Off!

2009-08-21T23:07:00.000-07:00

This evening, for the first time ever, I went to a driving range and hit golf balls. Richard's friend invited us out to give it a whirl. This was a surprisingly great time considering I always had the notion that only very old rich men wearing funny looking pants and hats went to the driving range. These men always have very nasally sounding voices in my notions.
The first joyous spectacle of the evening took place when we decided to purchase a small basket of golf balls from a machine in front of the pro shop. Little did we know the basket must be under the golf-ball-dispenser-thingy immediately after hitting the button or golf balls will scatter every which way.
Oh. How. They. Scattered.
To add to the chaos the place was having some sort of Hawaiian luau theme, so there are balls tittering around the ground, pouring out this hole in the machine, and women garbed in grass skirts and tropical tops carrying various Hawaiian instruments. The basket was hastily applied once the initial jaw dropping moment fizzled.
It was on to the range! Here must give myself a pat on the back for not slamming the club into the ground with an arm reverberating swing and actually hitting the ball within the limits (mostly) of where it needed to go. Once we hit a couple baskets worth, we headed to the putting area.
Much wind whipped hair and many missed putts later, I felt a big fat raindrop fall on my head. Then another. Then a whole lot more. Within the time we threw the putting balls into the bag of clubs we were quite damp. We made a mad dash to the parking lot (of course Rich parked in the very back) and were completely soaked through by the time we were in the truck. Holy mother I love when it rains. The cherry on top of a very enjoyable evening. There was the monsoon weather we were waiting for; it was just saving up for a big show.

Pictures Of You

2009-08-19T22:43:00.001-07:00

I remember you, sitting there cross legged on the balcony. Shorts were too short, your ass was hanging out, but you never cared. Natural Ice in one hand, loose bun knotted at the crown of your head, thin chocolate brown with streaks of grey. You are getting old. I was inside, looking out. Your cheeks were round and fat like a baby, smiling at me and toothless, pinky out, lifting the beer to your thin dry lips. You looked happy, but I could see through. Smile slanted sparkly blue eyes, but glossed over and giggling with that warm feeling of apartness from your body; the feeling you chased with tunnel vision, obstructing all else.
I remember you there and was thinking maybe I couldn't blame you. Maybe you were turning backward, back into a child and I had to scold you and say something cutting so you'd feel ashamed. You took it like a man, ma. Didn't say a word back to me, and in turn I felt ashamed.
Then cheated. Thought about all those things we'd missed because of that little blue can in your hand and lack of accountability. You've always had someone to bail you out. "The Lord will provide" you said when we were losing our house and dad loaded us up and took us away to something better. "The Lord will provide" you said when you finally came back after years and then ran out of resources and people to sponge off of and then turned tail and ran back under the rock you came from. Well it's not "the Lord" providing. It's people who care about you and remember who you were once and see a little shimmer of that in you still. It's those people that are providing, and you're leaching.
But when I think of you with your rosy cheeks and your toothless face-splitting grin, I want to cradle you up and tell you all about who you can be when you grow up, the places you can go, adventures to be had, love to be found and lost and found again; what your kids might be like, how they'll admire you and say the things you say and want to be just like you. How you can be whatever you want to be when you get big. But I'm too late for all that. So now I'll just say you should know we loved you once, and you're missing out.

Fall 2009 Semester

2009-08-13T19:00:00.001-07:00

I signed up for two night classes for the coming Fall semester. I already had 15 credits towards my Associate Arts degree (how'd that happen?). That's 15 out of 60. Ouch. I need to get my ass in gear. I'm taking Sociology101 and English102. These classes will give me a total of 6 more credits, just over 1/3 of the way there. Yurgh. Long haul. At this turtles pace it will take me two years to get my AA. I simply can't wait that long. Something has to change.
Car will be paid off at the beginning of next year. Will have more dough to pay for classes/books. No more time than I have now, but more money, so it's something. Ah, the life of a full time student would be nice. Maybe a little part time job on the side.
I have never been able to even DREAM of such a thing. Even when I was in high school I was working two part time jobs simultaneously AND paying rent for living in my dad's house (once I turned 18). Ain't that some shit? Of course I figured if I was paying rent there and still living by his rules, I might as well just move out and pay rent somewhere else. And so I've been in this rut for...ugh...forever? There will be a light at the end of the tunnel. Some damned place. But to be honest, it's pretty hard to see right now.

Forgot My Cape In My Other Jeans

2009-08-11T20:08:00.001-07:00

Richard and I are standing in the driveway attempting to re-attach his tailgate when a slender silver station wagon pulls up on the other side of the street and a frantic Chinese delivery driver from Ming's gets out and starts waving a receipt around. In broken English he gets the point across that he's lost and can't find the house he's looking for. Richard, the ever-helpful guy that he is, calls the customer's house on his cell and asks him to verify the address. It was one digit off; I Google map it and discover it's straight up the street, within plain view of our own house. With lots of pointing and smiling we tell the driver to head straight up the street, make sure you don't turn on the curve, the house should be right there. About five minutes later, Rich calls the customer's house once again in hopes of getting a successful report of delivery and, hopefully, a solid review on a good Chinese food place in the neighborhood.
Lo and behold, the poor fellow simply couldn't understand what we were saying and likely did turn on the curve.
From the moment the Chinaman steps out and begins his broken attempts at communication, my eyes half-glaze over; I am fantasizing about knowing Chinese and directing him steadfast to his desired destination. In my fantasy, he is very impressed and we chat for awhile about my miraculous abilities. I wave him goodbye and the food is delivered, fresh and hot, to waiting hungry customer.
I often have these moments where I wish I had some insane out-of-thin-air skill just at the right time. Often times I will glaze over in situations such as this and just fantasize about how awesome it would be to have a super ability in a time of need or great desire. (Singing, instrument playing, language, dance, art, etc.)
If I were a super hero and I got to choose my skill, this would TOTALLY be it! I don't care about invisibility, flight, gills or any of that crap! Just hit me with some spur of the moment abilities when the time is right. If you could put in a good word for me at the Super Hero Academy, that'd be great. Thankssomuch.

For A Good Time Call Helen Keller

2009-08-11T19:49:00.000-07:00

Have you heard that new song by 3oh!3 called "Don't Trust Me"? It has a line in it about Helen Keller that goes "Shush girl, shut your lips, do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips" Usually I'm not such a tight ass about being politically correct, but "Damn!" I thought, "leave Helen Keller alone. The poor woman went through enough in her life that she shouldn't be subjected to some lame superficial pop song and be cashed in on like a set of spinning rims or a grill." Then something happened.
In the midst of all my judgmental smiting, a lonely thought danced across my mind and I was, quite abruptly, flung from my dignified humanitarian pedestal. I fervently texted Richard with said lonely-dancing-thought "Do you think Helen Keller ever got any tail? 'Cause if she did I bet it was awesome! With no sight or sound the sense of touch must be incredibly heightened!"
And then Satan opened the gates of Hell, poked his pointy horns out for a moment and gave me a thumbs up.

The Things That Keep Us Quiet

2009-07-30T21:53:00.000-07:00

(Thanks to April for allowing me to wrestle this photo out of her.)

I know nothing.

2009-07-29T09:32:00.000-07:00

I am agnostic. I know that I don’t know.

Do I believe Jesus existed? Yes. I think he had to have been a pretty cool guy since everyone remembers him and thought enough to write a book about him, despite the potential persecution they would have received from authority for writing such tales.

I think prayer is a good thing. It keeps our desires and worries and the things we’re thankful for in clear view; these things are easily lost track of without constant reminders.

I think religion is good for some people. Some people need to believe in God and the world is a better place for it--in certain ways for certain people. Suicide bombers think what they’re doing is right, for these crazy brainwashed fools, God is not a good figure. For people finding God in prison and changing their lives because of it, people who would otherwise do much worse things, God is a good figure.

I am a good person and I don’t feel as though I need religion to be so.

I respect the religion of others; I will bow my head at a prayer over a meal, in a prayer circle or anywhere people are practicing their beliefs. Just because I don’t believe what you believe doesn’t mean you’re wrong or that I should devalue your practices.

I think if there is a “God,” he isn’t what people think, and I certainly don’t believe in a “Devil”. I think God is everything, good and evil, and we are all a part of it if it exists at all.

I simply can’t wrap my head around this “God” creature sending people to Hell due to an option he gave us, especially since he hasn’t made an appearance in so long. It simply doesn’t make sense, and I sure as shit don’t remember signing up for it. If you’ve read the Bible stories, you’d know God does some fucked up shit. I think he is both good and evil and balances himself out; we are all a part of Him, our good and our evil, and maybe once we die we just join a single consciousness with other beings.
.
I believe in the possibility that there’s nothing there. “I think, therefore I am” doesn’t necessarily mean “I am” after I am no longer.

While I’m at it, maybe we’re one big alien experiment, and they’re just keeping tabs on us to find out how their science project is going.

All I know is that I know nothing. I will find out when I die; until then I will continue being as good a person as I can and hope the rest of the world is doing the same.

Feel The Burrrrn.

2009-07-27T20:40:00.000-07:00

Insides Like A Christmas Tree

2009-07-20T07:14:00.000-07:00

Pops is back home from the surgery and I'll be flying up to visit this coming weekend. It will give my mind a little peace to see him finally because he sounded really bad when I last talked to him on the phone. I'd never heard him sound like that before, his Chicago accent was really strong. I guess that happens when people are in pain or have extreme emotions one way or another, it was just kind of sad and scary to hear my dad like that :( He says he's recovering quickly and every day he feels a bit better.
I was thinking of posting the photo of his huge gash across the belly with staples in it, but thought better of it. Seen here is the pre-op MRI photo which got this whole mess started. I don't know what the hell I'm looking at, but I think it looks pretty neat!

Neil Young...Not Quite A Looker

2009-07-10T15:32:00.000-07:00

I think it's a shame that in todays music industry you have to be smoking hot and fake looking to get anywhere (for the most part). There are so many amazing artists from our past that were quite ratty looking fellas, but they had this incredible talent so no one gave a crap.
Musicians today are not only over processed in their looks, but over processed in sound too. I have to turn off the radio sometimes and just sit in silence because I'm tired of listening to all this over processed perfect sounding music. I think music is GOOD with flaws and the squeak of guitar strings or the slight inhale or a quivering voice in just the right spot. Music is all about connecting with someone or something, but let's be honest, none of us can relate to perfection. It's not possible and if it were I sure as hell wouldn't want it.
I was just listening to a kick ass Neil Young song, Heart of Gold. Real, raw, human excellence.