Ahh packing.

I have put it off for long enough. I finally found out how much shit I really have. Going through all my cabinets and drawers, cubbies, closets and bench storage, I am thinking it's going to take longer to pack and dispose than I imagined.
But there's nothing like finding that random piece of paper that gives me a reminder of what I was doing a year ago. A goal sheet. One week, one month, three months, six months, one year. Have my library card $10 fee paid off. Pay the DMV. Save money for a trip back to St. Louis. Have an art website built. All these things were in my plans a year ago, and I never imagined I would be here, where everything is different. Imagine your life a year ago. Did you know you would be where you are? Doing what you're doing?

I found, as a bookmark, a photo of my ex husband and I...an engagement photo where we were kissing. I cried. I found, in my Dahli Lama autobiography (how fitting, since he just visited California), a "to do" list with everything I thought was important two months ago. I came across two ENTIRE BAGS of total trash. Papers galore. Where does this come from and how did I not notice it before? I have way too many clothes and shoes for someone who wears the same outfit for a week if I can get away with it.

So what do I learn from all this? That when I am stagnant, I accumulate. I lose that natural instinct to be free of possessions, free to move about without baggage. Now that I am ready to move on again, (and the song Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac ALWAYS appears in these times), I feel fulfilled in packing all my things into bags, giving them away, relinquishing comfort, convenience, and making a fresh start in a new place that I can call home. Brazil, here I come.

time is winning this race

...and i need to catch up. yes, i have enough time to write this blog but in 45 minutes another last minute client will be at my house for a color and cut. people are coming here since i stopped working at the salon. i don't know how much more of myself i can give away to individuals. being totally grateful for how many friends i have, i am still wondering how i am going to have time to see and say farewell to every one before i leave.

on a more positive note, what i said in my facebook status is true and just around the corner: all i have to worry about is how fast my ice cubes are melting in my drink.

so after a flight from sfo to rio, i take a connecting flight from rio to florianopolis, an island near my small town. from there, i have to take a 1.5 hr busride to praia do rosa, where i will live. but there are no animals allowed on buses in brazil due to the poaching of animals from the amazon. so, i will either have to hop on the bus and be sneaky with the pet voyage, or i will rent a car. i have a reservation but dread the idea of driving in brazil's busier areas, let alone taking the bumpy roads on the outskirts of town. having nightmares about being pulled over and taken to jail for not having the right paperwork (despite thrifty car rental's "legal driver" requirements), i am skeptical about getting into the death machine. at least it's a vw golf. could i ask for a better rental car?

leaving in a week exactly. looking forward to not paying at $90 phone bill. looking forward to brazilian food. even looking forward to spending an entire month with a friend with whom i've never traveled. not looking forward to a 20 hour plane flight with the cat in the pet voyage. i am going to drug her out of her little kitty mind, and she should be ok. and so should i.

wrapping up....i fly out at noon on thursday. i have narrowed my belongings down to two suitcases, and i am storing two boxes. other than that, i have no possessions, no memories and no plans.

this is what i will be leaving behind in san francisco

the view from my balcony this morning as the sun kisses the sky

Unmatched socks, please watch over my art

There are reasons things are left in the wind, but I'm not sure what they are.  Years ago, hours before my Brazilian grandmother died, I sat at her bedside and drew her.  I thought, what a better way to honor her in her passing; to sketch her in her last moments.  I believed these were some of the most hautingly beautiful sketches I had ever done, believed that some other force was working through me as an instrument.  I sent these sketches to some Brazilian friends and they never received them.  Poof.  Nowhere to be found.  This meant that she was immortalized and I sent her soul to Brazil.  At least that's what I thought. 

A couple of years ago, I collaborated with a brilliant artist at Webster University and on the day of our show, he decided to kick his heroin addication.  He was unable to make it.  I borrowed his car, and when the show was over, loaded all of our art into the car and returned it to his house to be dealt with the next day.  I never heard from him again.  Poof.  All art gone.  

A few months ago, I left a DVD case full of all my movies at a friend's house.  We were seeing each other and although he denies any possibility of it, I believe his jealous ex-girlfriend stole the case.  In this case was the one and only master copy of art videos I made while in art school.  My entire Woody Allen and Wes Anderson collections gone.  Nowhere to be found.  Poof.

I have to believe that art exists to be set free.  If it is not owned, it can be immortalized.  It either dies in a storage unit or it lives on someone's wall, in a memory, or it lives in an imaginary place where socks also go.   

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fz-VFye9pwU&NR=1

This is the little town where I will live. There is a lagoon, a small village, and plenty of trails to hike. People generally stop here to surf, go horseback riding and hang out on the beach. I plan to make my own video someday.