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The Clog

This started as a blog about living abroad for 7 months, but the reality of getting a job has me talking about other topics while in between countries. (Above photo taken on return trip from Mexico, 2008. Looks like castles in the sky.)

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Wednesday, February 24, 2010

When You Are Engulfed In Flames


I have been wanting to read this book ever since I saw the cover, which is a photo of one of my favorite Van Gogh paintings I saw at the Norton Simon museum in Pasadena. Having heard nothing of David Sedaris, I was interested.

A client was holding it, and I asked him if it was any good. He says "it's okay". So I postponed reading it. I don't usually read for entertainment. I have a playground of my own, so I rarely play in the sandbox of another. I read to learn, and somehow that makes me feel superior.

I wanted to pass some time at work, being slow and all, so I borrowed this book from my friend and I cannot stop turning the pages (except to give it a shout out on my blog). It's hilarious and makes me bark out in laughter. It reminds me of my own cynical sense of humor, the humor that comes from a fixed observation of human behavior. Truth is funny.

The best and worst things I have done in my life

The Worst

#1 with a bullet:

I spit in a woman's face. *

She was the wife of my boss. For a short time, while in transition, I worked at a chain hair salon in Atascadero. I was making minimum wage, which then, was probably a little more than $7 per hr. My boss was stealing from me by cheating on my paycheck. I was infuriated. I was living in a van, making close to nothing already.

My boyfriend at the time suggested I go find out where the boss's wife works and spit in her face. I thought it very extreme and cruel, but I liked the idea. Spitting in my bosses wife's face was better than spitting in his.

So I found out where she worked, walked into the building, found her desk and asked her, "are you so-and-so?" She said, "yes". Then I spit directly into her face and ran like a bat out of hell.

I always felt so badly about that incident. It was so out of character. A few months after the event, I was driving through a park. I'm admiring the trees and squirrels and whatnot and out of nowhere, a popping sound so loud I lost my hearing for a minute pierced through the car. A yellow paintball had been shot at the driver side window, and who do I see driving away? The son of my boss.

I'm sorry. I will never spit in anyone's face again.



#2 I totally faked my senior project before graduation.

I have a great friend who is an art instructor; Bill Loveless. I had just gotten a divorce and I was in pieces. I didn't have the creative capacity to come up with a piece of art before graduating, so I asked Bill if I could use his super cool video of colored ink dripping into a tank of water as my final presentation in my alternative media course. He laughed and said yes. Now, being an art instructor, I expected a lecture as to how unethical this was. But he has probably been in the business long enough to have a sense of humor and kick all the "holier than though" artist attitude to the curb.

So I bailed St. Louis, leaving the tape (yes, it was VHS) in the hands of a friend in class. It was shown in my absense. I got an A in the course and received my diploma in the mail. I was so tired after 6.5 years of college that I didn't even walk at graduation. Faking my senior project was my OWN project. Art is not about following rules. It's about breaking them. I'm not sorry.



#3 I kind of maybe drank and drove a few times.

Regardless of whether or not you get caught, it's stupid. I endangered the life of myself and of others.

* The REAL #1 cannot be talked about. It's not appropriate in a blog.



The Best

#1 Moved away from home.

The best way to throw yourself into the fangs of life is to leave home without money, without a car and without a job. It was incredibly liberating.



#2 Lived in a van.

It started out as quite an adventure. I slept on the carpeted floor, ate PB&J's and fried grocery store burritos, I could just close the curtains and sleep like I was camping. I would brush my teeth outside the van in the morning, barefoot, with a gallon of water in Isla Vista. I was a gypsy! But a year and a half later, shampooing my hair at the salon where I worked or taking a shower at the gym was getting old. Buying food that could survive being refrigerated was very limiting and having wrinkled clothes was routine. You also have to be cunning about where you park. When you are in a residential area, a black Tradesman Dogde rape van doesn't "blend" well with the neighborhood and people call the cops. If you park of the side of Hwy 1, you will hear a knock at the window around 2a.m., a cop telling you to leave.

There was also the issue of privacy. Where do you go to the bathroom? Public bathrooms for the most part, but we had a container for urine (you know, you have to go in the middle of the night sometimes). I could always hear crazy homeless people talking to themselves in the middle of the night. That's when I blew out the candle that was wax-glued to the wheel well and feared for my life. Not to mention the lives of the cat and the rat in the van. Well I didn't fear for their lives. It just seemed like a good seg-way into the fact that the rat died of heat exhaustion during the summer in Atascadero.

But living in a van has its advantages. You don't pay rent. You are fearless of becoming homeless because you have lived it, only in a van. You learn a lot about your limitations and possibilities. You find that you are free.



#3 Bought a hair salon

....on a promissory note! Yep, lawyer and I signed a note saying "I will pay $___ dollars a month for the next year and a half. If I don't, the salon isn't mine anymore". (Not verbatim) That was about how simple it was. I later sold the salon for a little less than I paid, but it was a priceless well of education about business, finance, marketing, etc.



#4 Got married.

I married someone I dated for two weeks. He was the one. We lasted 4 years. Bumpy road. Totally worth every moment.




#5 Moved to Brazil


Well, it's spelled Brasil
I moved there with the intention of staying, although I reserved a return flight for 8 months out in case I didn't have a way to make money. I didn't want to be stranded in Brazil without a way to make a living. So I took the money I had saved, and the money my parents gave me to help out, and moved to Praia do Rosa, a well known beach town in the surf community, located in the South of Brazil. I lived there for 7 months, made a few friends, ate wonderful Brazilian food, listened to new music (mostly Brazilian), partied my ass off, got really healthy from walking and being happy in the sun and sand, and learned a lot about the Brazilian culture. My Portuguese aint too bad either.

Brazil also taught me to trust no one. I was poisoned, robbed, and had my identity stolen. It's a rough world. But this is a part of growing up. (Right?)


Everything memorable that has happened, happened in a moment. This is when life takes over our plans and becomes authentic. Or I like to think.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

An ode to Woody Allen and the time we met



I went to New York with a friend who had a conference for her stationary business. I heard that Woody Allen would be playing clarinet in his band at the Carslyle Hotel on E. 76th and Madison. Being one of Woody's biggest fans, I had to go.

I arrived early. I stood in the lobby outside the bar for an hour with 5 other people as we quietly looked at each others' shoes then began to openly discuss our excitement. The wait was unbearable. The door opened, only for us to discover that there was another door in which people entered. The place was flooded! I was literally the last person allowed in the cramped space. I took the only seat left at the bar, allowing a decent view, with a pillar as an obstruction. The space was only about the size of a 2bd. apt. The music reminded me of the Sacramento Jazz Festival. Woody seemed not to be convinced he was good enough.

Following the show, Woody was making his exit with the band. People crowded him, asking for his autograph, hovering like bees. He exited the building with his body guards saying "thank you, that's enough" . . .

Then I sat, distantly at the bar, looking at him walk out the doors thinking, "I came here for a reason". I waited a couple of minutes until the crowd died off. I walked out the doors he exited, and I saw him on a red carpet under an awning with his bodyguard waiting for his limo. I asked his bodyguard if I could have a photo with him. He said, let's ask Woody. I looked at Woody and told him it was on my list of things to do before I died. You always see him portrayed as some stuttering indignant. But tonight, he was more lucid than ever.

He put his hand on my shoulder and walked me down that red carpet and said, "in a minute, my limo is going to pick me up. But before it does, I am going to open the door, turn around, and you are going to take a photo." As we walked toward the limo, he opened the door and turned around and said, "are you ready?" I said, "ready as I'll ever be." I snapped the photo, beaming with pure white light shining, and he sunk into the seat, closed the door and drove off.

Unfortunately, I don't have a scanner, so this photo will have to do until I can upload mine. I guess the end of this story is as impotent as an 80 yr. old man. But I will never forget the glory in pushing myself out those doors to get to talk to Woody Allen, one-on-one. There is a lot of controversy over his personal life, but I appreciate him as a comedian first, a filmmaker second. His movies have brought joy and clarity and familiarity to my life. Thank you.

oh Eddie

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ope-1Zb5t-k

Sunday, February 21, 2010

There's a reason people like Coldplay


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkMGf2_NKvs

Saturday, February 20, 2010

seven years

it's crazy how music plays such a huge role in my life, sometimes subconsciously.

i just happened to want to listen to norah jones a few days ago, and "seven years" is the song i chose. i have been playing it repeatedly because it spoke to me. i was talking on the phone with my therapist last night, and the process i'm in right now is learning to "re-parent" myself since i didn't have healthy parenting as a child. so she had me, at the end of our session, try to remember one of my most painful memories growing up. my memory had to do with watching my mom mimic my older brother after she reprimanded him. she cowered, with her shoulders slumped over and stuck out her bottom lip as if she were pouting and said "this is you".
aside from the later death of my older brother, this is probably my most painful memory. my therapist then told me to imagine someone entering the room, a friend, a relative, someone i trusted. they put their hands on my shoulder, led me out of the room and said, "i'm so sorry you have to witness this. it's not your fault, and there's nothing you can do about it." i wished it had been my dad who was that protector, but it wasn't. strangely, in my imagination at this moment, it was a friend and religious sponsor.

after opening my eyes, my therapist asked me how old i was when that happened. i thought about it and said,
"seven years".

is there a reason i have been listening to this song for the past few days? she moves in mysterious ways.


this song went from being beautiful and devastating to being comforting in some familiar way. it feels like home.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXiRuSIXbns

saying goodbye

you know what they say in brazil when they said goodbye to me?

they said, "i'm sorry for whatever i did, and thank you for everything".

it was the sweetest simplest sentiment and it's so easy. this is how everyone should part.

VT rank 2684!!!!

http://members.virtualtourist.com/m/77102/

norah jones

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXiRuSIXbns

tech support

A woman writes to the IT Technical support

Dear Tech Support,
Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and I noticed a distinct slowdown in the overall system performance, particularly in the flower and jewellery applications, which operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0.
In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, and then installed undesirable programs such as NEWS5.0, MONEY 3.0 and CRICKET 4.1.
Conversation 8.0 no longer runs, and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system.
Please note that I have tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail.
What can I do?
Signed,
Desperate wife_____ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________ _________
Reply
DEAR Madam,
First, keep in mind, Boyfriend 5.0 is an Entertainment Package, while Husband 1.0 is an operating system.
Please enter command: ithoughtyoulovedme. Html and try to download Tears 6.2 and do not forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update.
If that application works as designed, Husband1..0 should then automatically run the applications Jewellery 2..0 and Flowers 3.5..
However, remember, overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Silence 2.5 or out of the house 6.1.
Please note that out of the house 6.1.
is a very bad program that will download the rarely at home Beta.
Whatever you do, DO NOT under any circumstances install 1Mother-In-Law 1.0 (it runs a virus in the background that will eventually seize control of all your system resources.)
In addition, please do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 program. These are unsupported applications and will crash Husband 1.0.
In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly.
You might consider buying additional software to improve memory and performance.
We recommend: Cooking 3.0 and Good Looks 7.7.
Good Luck Madam!

wow. german noise pollution

Noisy children no longer verboten in Berlin

Germany has strict laws to ensure children are seen but not heard
Children in the German capital Berlin are to be exempt from strict laws on noise pollution.
An amendment to the city's law now makes it "fundamentally and socially tolerable" for members of the younger generation to make a racket.
Berlin has become the first of Germany's 16 federal states to adopt such legislation.
But all Berliners - children included - must continue to respect the official quiet time at night and all day Sunday.
Until now, only church bells, emergency sirens, snow ploughs and tractors have fallen outside the stringent rules on excessive noise in Germany.

We have to consider the rights of children to shout while they are growing up
Axel Strohbusch
Department of Noise Protection
In Berlin alone, hundreds of complaints are made each year about noise levels in kindergartens and children's playgrounds.
Some day-care facilities have even been forced to close after local residents have gone to court in search of a quiet life.

Friday, February 19, 2010

I'm now in therapy

I don't know what the rules are, but this is my blog so I'll do what I damn well please.

I'm in weekly therapy and attending ACA meetings. It's already making me feel like an adult. A lifetime of childhood pain was unearthed in the past few days. Now I'm kicking it in the ass and taking my life back.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

I'm stuck with them, and they're stuck on you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UR62KrUa5Ng

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Sunday, February 14, 2010

V day tribute

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGZuij9G8PA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkMGf2_NKvs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4Qe5K7UV_0


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFSfdL5lPoY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFfb_CwBma0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qnUFhrmk3Os

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDe60CbIagg

Saturday, February 13, 2010

hello love


we're making beautiful babies.

Crossroads


Now is the time the song "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac is playing. I have been through three major transformations in my life. One was when I left home. The second was after a breakup with a boyfriend of 4.5 years, and I bought my salon. The third was when I got a divorce, finished school, and moved from St. Louis back to California with all my belongings in my car, alone. Now, the count is at four.

I am taking an honest look at what I want to do next with my life. Obviously, travel is the most important thing I can do and what makes me a full and good person. It gives me an astonishing sense of self worth that nothing ever has.

I am back in San Francisco, after having lived in Brazil, and I'm not getting the results I had expected. So, I need to change. Does that change involve a career move? After having done hair for 16 years and being an artist for, well, my entire life, maybe it's time to consider going to school to become a travel writer. The travel channel has an institute, workshops that teach people how to write and produce videos about travel. They have connections to the world of magazines and websites who will actually pay for your stories. I don't expect to be a paid writer in a day. I understand the romantic dream of being a travel writer, and the reality. Few people actually get paid to tell their stories. But some do. The question and the ultimate goal is becoming a person who does what they love and gets paid to do it.

My current job is taking its toll on me. I have energy, intellect and talent, ambition to work. But all my efforts seem to be fruitless. Fortunately, I'm unbreakable and I have so much love for myself and for life to give up my search for complete balance and freedom!

Growing up, I had very little freedom. I was sheltered, constantly being grounded for lying or getting poor grades. In fact, I didn't know how to order a pizza when I moved away from home. My parents always allowed a lot of independence, (they let me wear what I wanted, encouraged me to have a mind of my own). I always respected that. I also appreciate their respect for my privacy. They were mostly just and didn't believe in going through my things. I remember being reprimanded one time because a friend in college sent me a condom in a letter as a joke. I left it on my desk in my room because, well, I hadn't thought twice about it. My mom saw it and thought I was having sex, which I wasn't. They are very religious (dad is a deacon) and don't believe in sex before marriage. I was always amazed at what they would actually ground me for doing. I learned that going to church events was an acceptable way to get away from home. Don't get me wrong . . . I love my parents. But I can't say it wasn't a rocky road.

I always thought, when I'm grown up, I'm going to do whatever I want. And fortunately, I have been able to do exactly that. When I lived at home, I didn't have a curfew, and I thought that was fair. Most of my friends had a curfew. I never took advantage of not having a curfew. I just told my parents where I was, who I was with and when I would be home. I was a good kid. I was responsible. I had a paper route and saved money. My room was always clean. I did my homework and chores. I participated in clubs, sports and went to church every Sunday with my parents. I snuck out of the house once, and it was to TP a neighbor's house. I had a friend my parents didn't trust, and when she spent the night, my dad put a small piece of paper on the door knob that led to the garage. I had never planned to sneak out and it offended me that he went to these silly dishonest measures to try to trick me. I had a party when my parents went away on their anniversary weekend. It was so worth it. I needed to get it out of my system . . . actually doing something worthy of being punished for. All of the furniture in the family room was moved onto the backyard lawn, and I had to bring it back inside. A pair of my shorts were put in the medicine cabinet in the downstairs bathroom. I'm sure lots of alcohol was consumed. I didn't drink but a handful of times in high school. That night, I didn't drink because I had to take care of everyone else. I was innocent then. I felt a need to grow. Growing meant giving myself challenges, and that hasn't changed since I was a child.

I have to decide what to do next. The crossroads are inevitable and very real. Will I moved to LA where my two best friends live, and accept the job at the Beverly Hills salon? I'm intimidated by the expectations of working in Beverly Hills, and even think I may not be good enough, but someone recognized my talent and that's why the offer still stands. Do I finally leave my home in SF to seek out new opportunities? I'm a gypsy at heart but also a hard worker, and that affords the freedom that I so need. In a short time, I will be making a transition. I don't know what it is, but after thinking about it for two months, it's going to be as sudden and final and obvious as it was for me to buy my ticket to Brazil. The world is open and waiting. All possibilities are landing at my feet even though I feel shackled.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

VT rank to 2683

http://members.virtualtourist.com/dashboard/

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

What it's like to be a hair stylist and what you should know about being a client

Most people believe hair stylists are incredibly flaky people who are outgoing and social artists. In my 16 years of doing hair, one thing is true: We are hair artists. But we are often introverted and quiet people. We have an enthusiasm for life, but we have our problems, just like every one else. We just have to leave them at the door and put on a happy face so that you can unload yours on us, which we crave, because we care.

We are bartenders of the hair industry. You sit in our chair and we listen to you. We take care of you. And we WANT to! This is one of the reasons we do hair. We could have been neurosurgeons, but in the spirit of the movie Rushmore, we're too smart for that. You tell us things that you would normally take to your grave. I once had a spell when I was asking clients what was the worst thing they had ever done, one thing of which they were most ashamed. One client told me he slept with his best friend's wife, on their wedding day. I was in awe but moved that he would share something so personal. Of course, I would never tell anyone who he was, but it's a testament to the intimacy in which we engage with you. Do you think the salon world is gossipy? It is. But most of the gossip is about celebrity trash magazines. What you tell us doesn't leave our lips because frankly, we see so many people, we don't really remember who says what, and your story is probably not the most worthy of discussion. No offense.

What's the deal with snooty stylists?

They are probably not that great of a stylist if they believe they are better than you. Don't trust them. This business is built on satisfaction. If you feel like a piece of poo when you go into a salon, you will probably feel the same way when you leave. Run. Run quickly.

Feel guilty about switching stylists? Within the same salon?

You are not married to your hair stylist. If you are getting a bad cut/color, you have two options: you can A) give the stylist another chance (we're not perfect and sometimes it takes a couple shots at getting to know your hair) or you can B) go to someone else. There is nothing wrong with going to another stylist. You are paying for a service, and if you don't get what you pay for, you go back and make sure you do. Stylists who get jealous and angry about you going to someone else are probably slow and don't have anything better to worry about. Find someone on the street with hair like yours, ask them where they go and try that stylist. Word of mouth is the most honest form of advertisement. This brings me to competition among stylists.

I have always been very confident about my work. I believe everyone has something to teach and something to learn and that no one is superior to anyone else. I have a really good understanding (as I believe good stylists do) that we share and encourage any business within the salon. I support their forte and refer people to them who require their skill, and they do the same, so we're looking out for each other.

What about stylists always being late?

Most good stylists run on time. But ask yourself this; have you ever been late to an appointment? Maybe missed an appointment and not called? Called and wanted in at the last minute? Usually, our reason for being late is because a client was late, or desperately asked us to squeeze them in at the last minute. In our attempt to please everyone, we have alienated you. We are sorry it had to land on you. Plan your appointment in advance. We do want your business and we want to accommodate you in any way possible. If you have to cancel an appointment, it's ok. Life happens. Just make a call. It only takes ten seconds, and it will allow us to book someone else who is waiting desperately to get in.

What should we be talking about during the consultation?

The most successful service always begins with the consultation. Communication is the key to any relationship and that includes a client-stylist relationship. What is your stylist's responsibility? "To let you spew", verbatim, from my mentor, Sarah, in Santa Barbara - to find out what you want to do with your hair. It is our job to find out about your lifestyle, your daily maintenance, what you do like, what you don't like, your past hair experiences, your troubles with styling. I am going to tell you something very important. Read closely.

A PHOTO IS A GEM.

When you think of the color RED, what do you see? I see a shiny, firey deep red, not purple, not orange. Not even fire engine red, which is what red IS. People see color so differently. Until I know what color you see when I say the word "Red", I don't have any clue as to what you mean. It's my job to make that distinction. People who bring in celebrity photos cut out from magazines are smart. This is what communication is, and we both need to be present to make this dream of looking like Scarlett Johansson a reality.

What type of client are you?

Type A) Our favorite client. You come in smiling! You are ready for something new. You are content with something old. You are happy. You bring a bottle of wine. You trust us. You refer us to all your friends. We don't mind if you show up late. You follow us from place to place. (We're sorry for being so transient.) We kick down product and discounts. We go above and beyond to fit you in the day before Christmas. We love you! Keep coming back. You are the reason we do hair.

Type B) People who are NEVER HAPPY. We have dealt with people like this for so long, tried to make you happy, and we pawn you off on the closest person faster than you can say Carrot Top. You are never happy with your hair. You jump around from stylist to stylist, complaining about what you don't like about them/the service. Yes, I agree, there are a lack of serious stylists out there, who are good, who give you what you want. But type A is actually not only dissatisfied with her hair, but with her life. We wish we could help.

Type C) Our bread and butter. You always pre-book your appointment. You get the same thing every time. Our conversations are mediocre, but for some reason, you keep coming back. We appreciate your business. If you like us so much, how about referring us to your friends? You tip well. We don't generally know much about you. That's ok. We are here to maintain your hair. It's very simple. We don't have to be best friends. You ARE cherished. Without you, we couldn't pay our rent, and we appreciate your loyalty.

So who is a hair stylist, really?

Stylists and bartenders essentially have the same job. We listen to people all day long and give them something to feel good about. You have to have a certain temperament to be a hair stylist. Some of you will rob us of our energy, and others will inspire us, give us faith in humanity with your insight, your vulnerability, your stories of success, adventure, failure. You will tell us things you would normally take to your grave. This is what makes the job worthwhile. I am an important person to you, just for one moment. I have given you a gift in listening and allowing you to trust me with who you really are. At the end of the day, people just want to feel good about themselves and to be taken care of. At then end of the day, I have a drink, watch TV, call a friend, and wind down, just like all of you.

But it's not rocket science. It's just hair.

Monday, February 8, 2010

we'll find a cathedral city, you can convince me i'm pretty.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0KOZxXP3N8
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kq0Or_1qu7E

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Saturday, February 6, 2010


Auctioning myself off for a date for Valentine's day to aid Haiti. More updates to come.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Mac n cheese and the grade school project


There are a couple of classes that stand out as the best in my long educational career.

First, typing. Sophmore year of high school. I hated it at the time. But having to look at that blank paper in the electronic typewriter, listening to the teacher yell "don't you dare look at your fingers!" was flustering. I didn't look. I fumbled for an entire semester, and in one entire semester, I learned how to type, having no preconception that the internet would take my days away.

Second, behavior modification. I had that class in Jr. college This was a daunting class to enroll in, because I didn't really know what "behavior modification" meant and wasn't sure of my reason for taking it. I had taken the class as an elective to my psycholgy degree, in my first year of undergrad. What I found was that I am fascinated with human behavior, and it gave me an amino boost of interest in the world of marketing and advertising. It gave me a fresh look at what makes people tick.

Thirdly, speed reading. The class, taught by Dolores, a friend of a good friend's mom, was probably the most boring class ever taken. All we did was read a book every week. I thought, I could do that on my own without paying per unit. But I learned how to skim a page in about 30 seconds and get the gist of it. It works with certain topics. Like Harry Potter.

But the most memorable was a class I took in grade school. I had to cook food over a fire for a week straight.

What did I choose?
Macaroni and cheese and hashed browns. I think I gained a lot of weight in that month despite being a gymnast, which requires incredible stamina and a tolerance for pain that rivals ANY sport you can name. I started those coals with a girl scout concoction of egg crate, hampster wood shavings, and wax, to act as a fire starter. Then I made that fire roar, put an iron skillet of grated potatoes and egg on that pan. After that was done, I heated water in the pan and made a batch of mac n cheese. The perfect breakfast for a growing girl.

After that, I made mac n cheese like this routinely. I missed the way it made me feel: like someone at some point had to work for their food. I imagined being a gatherer. I imagined what all those people were doing when they got to the island and had finally found food. Only I had a stove and a microwave just a few steps away.
I have thought hard about your soft eyes, and they're stuck on me. You're the blue-eyed boy and I'm the brown-eyed girl, your scarlet begonia, your requiem. You're someone I never thought would stir me this way. My love, it was all lost in translation. I promise, I won't leave you alone. If you needed me, I would swim the seas. I can leave all our past behind, but I can't leave you.

My wedding song. Really.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8AWFf7EAc4

Eternal fire, he turned me to straw.

Favorite food!!! (in no particular order, but spicy white tuna from Warakabune is #1 with a bullet).























Prolonged weightlessness causes loss of taste.

Favorite movies of all time








http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sECzJY07oK4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTCulYog5fw

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x58ueh_wet-hot-american-summer-theatrical_shortfilms

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hQel3noQeI


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9Wx78z6L0A


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rer6RTDPbc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S0LNGA2hp8 When I first arrived in Paris, this is the metro stop I ended up at. Unintentionally. This is my favorite scene from Amelie, or from almost any movie of all time. Glorious.

What do YOU do when life takes a shit on your dreams?
Celebrate and know that life is what happens when you're busy making plans.

happiness

i have not been happy since i left brazil.

i have always been a happy person. for some reason, this has changed over the past few months. i have always felt i belonged here, i had passion. don't get me wrong; i'm not suicidal or anything, but i am standing still and i need to move forward. something's gotta give. life is throwing challenges i have not had to face in a long time. even in my profession, the economy has taken a toll. i have always been so independent, able to make money and survive, put myself through school, pay my bills, and even indulge in some sushi and jcrew when i wanted. now, i can barely do any of that.

the sad part is, i don't feel like there are many people i can reach out to. i feel like in doing that, i am a burden. i have always taken care of other people and now i need to be taken care of. but the type of friend who is going to wake up at 2am to listen to me cry about being a silly middle class white person are few and far between. i thought i had a lot of friends. i am finding out who the real friends are.

even though i have an art show coming up, i still feel inconsequential. what's the fucking point of an art show? what's the point of even making art? why did i get a job at this place i thought was going to be great, and it ends up being mediocre? after all the searching, i waited for THIS?? why haven't my parents gotten back to me? why is it that at 35, i am living on a friend's air mattress? yes, i spent a long time in brazil. what was that all for? i was hoping to reconnect with my roots and get to know the culture. what i learned was not to trust anyone. after being stolen from, lied to, poisoned and used, i learned that brazil was not what i wanted.

i'm lost. i don't know what i'm doing or where to go next.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

life's a bitch

haven't heard back from my parents. aren't they the first people who are supposed to respond when your life is shit?

feeling like i have no reason to be here in sf. my job sucks, i have no love, i have a job that i'm overqualified for. i need to be around artists. i have friends but tonight, i bawled my eyes out and i could only think of two people i could call. one was in hawaii, two hours before california time, so i just hung up. the other, i had already exhausted on the phone, my best friend. one more, i thought of, but we are broken up. i would have really loved to have his understanding tonight. but it's not as simple as it seems. he's one of the reasons i am losing it.

things will get better, i know. i have always been here for me. i still will be.

Monday, February 1, 2010