A Vacation For One

Vacation time is like intangible gold and I accrue such worth in the amount of (up to) 40 days each calendar year.

I don't always find it easy to spend.

~~~~~

The city of Las Vegas.  The under constructionally hot landscape, not likely what you'd call our favourite.  For Travis,  I sense it's the deeply sad & desperate energy slathering every inch of his surrounding, for me it's the shocking familiarity to my desert past that I'm not looking to re-explore right now.

Travis usually books an annual week of shows out there, hosting the Laugh Factory.  I often go because time with my fella, wherever that is, is one of my favorite ways to tick the clock.  However, this year posed new logistical challenges.  I returned my leased car in May, so we're being a power couple on four wheels; I really wanted to take care of some 'boring to anyone else but me' house things; And mostly we had no one to watch Leroy.

As his planning unfolded, I realized I hadn't taken a proper vacation yet this year, making this the perfect opportunity.  The calendar inched closer for missing Travis, but I became increasingly excited to spend the time alone.  Yo, pick your chin up and read the above paragraph again. It afforded me the luxury to clear my personal list, which is just inherently harder when your spouse is around.  Or at least it is when you dig them so much.

and together, we'll head back in December to visit Mercury, NV.  {wink} look it up.

~~~~~

The goal was simple: Enjoy the time supporting my self-happiness & 1000 more head kisses to Leroy.  I needed some life quiet and this week the noise should come from blasting my speakers.

- No social media or news
- Spend time with myself
- Spend time with Leroy
- Lots of walking & running
- Lots of stretching & literally putting my legs up

And:
- Paint the living room
- Paint some canvas
- Reorganize & Purge
- Read some magazines
- Work in the garden
- Mostly be alone but enjoy the few scheduled outings


Day 1:  Travis left late morning, after all last minute preparations were done.  Normally he packs up the car, does a verbal check of everything needed, we'd exchange XOXOXO and as he'd wave goodbye, a hefty dose of depression would step in.  For the first few days I wouldn't do anything but watch television in the cuddle position hoping to hug Leroy but really he's cool just being near, and feel bad I wasn't accomplishing anything I had planned.  But it was different this time.  This time he drove away and I was immediately struck by the determination to action!  It was an unexpected upturn, one I anticipate has to do with my overall life positives.  I turned up the tunes that'd been knocking to get out of my head.  oh and I miss Travis.


Day 2: Noticed interesting affects of not posting or checking the social media triad known as fabinster (facebook, instragram, twitter).  There are things I thought or saw that I wanted to share, but the easily adhered to restriction meant they now become just for me.  Or a text to someone - I like that.  The instinct was to post on twitter or instagram, which I later figured was because I didn't mentioned going off-line on those platforms.  Like one was closed for renovations and the others were open during construction.  curious...

I also recognize the few times I wanted to look something up on facebook - a link, a company, piece of information... but said out loud each time, no social media!  I was out with a friend this night and said (more than once) argh! I'll send you the information later.  He just laughed, although encouragingly.  I don't think people mind the reprieve as much anymore - I like that.

 I discovered some new music through a random search.  oh and I still miss Travis.


Day 3: Went for a nice, long run in the cool morning.  Despite doing a boatload of more cardio activity, I've been getting faster per mile times.  I'm somehow averaging 8:30 as compared to 9:15+, which I have no idea if that's a small or significant improvement.  But I'll take it!  A girlfriend wanted to celebrate my vacationness, so she invited me to an afternoon movie and early dinner.  What a treat! This is obviously what tap dancing feels like.

Stayed up late with some Mazzy Star.  oh and this is the day that's the longest where I miss Travis.


Day 4: Decided to give my run legs a break and walked 2.5 miles to a favorite market because I was making a Korean dinner for a friend, based on her suggestion of bringing vegan Korean ribs.  So much schlepping of spices and eggplants!  Legit my first attempt at such a thing tho and luckily I had time to prepare and perfect.  Turns out she brought regular vegan ribs, so my sides were quite the spicy surprise.  oops.  Luckily they complimented each other and it was a fun mish-mosh of food.  I truly love cooking and being lost in my own excitement was quite pleasurable.

It's becoming normal course to keep off the platforms.  No joke, it feels like a distant activity reminiscent of before they overtook daily life.  The political news allure of keeping informed has been on my mind a tad more than expected, but staying busy keeps those desires at bay.  This mental check has been teased by knowing in a few days, I could watch again.  Not sure how I feel about that or whether I will.

So. Much. Rap.  oh and I way miss Travis but am getting excited it's closer to him coming home.  Like when you know it's almost the weekend and that shit flips fast so then the thing you're waiting for will be here ever sooner!


Day 5: I still get up early because I want to make sure I hit all the things before it gets 1000 degrees.  Nice long walk for Leroy, my exercise, any garden tending.  That frees up my day for the inside stuff and today is a day for MUSIC.  I really don't know what I'd do without those melodic vibrations, which makes me question why I never went into that industry.

I summoned Al Green and Otis Redding, who kindly serenaded me while I prepared some AH-MAH-ZING homemade soyrizo that isn't made from soy so I should call it LIErizo.  (hrmph, I don't love that either).  A friend was coming over for lunch and street tacos were our tasty jam.  Seriously, unleash me to reverse-engineer a food and I'm a happy bird.

Tonight tho, I broke.  sorta... Email was never on hold and I was resting on the couch when I ran through a few sub-accounts.  Most are setup for creative projects and only receive daily notices from Twitter.  On any particular day ending in Y, they usually land in the trash unopened.  Tonight of all weeks, I opened one and the headline caught my eye.  It was the first time since Sunday evening I felt tested.  Do I?  I mean it's only opening a web page and I'm not actually opening the app.  But I knew it was still me reading the who & what in that certain layout and it was still my body experiencing the affects.  I froze, staring at the email blurbage that beckoned me to trash all I'd worked for.  In slow motion my fingers found the point on the screen that would take away the entire weeks' worth of clarity.  I clicked and instantly felt weak.  fuck.  It ended up being so stupid and I spent the next 12 hours bummed that decision became my vacation ending reality.  ok life, lesson learned.

oh and in that moment, I really wished Travis was home.


Day 6: Leroy and I had a lovely early morning park date with his two best friends and another 4 from his usual pawd squad.  We haven't been going every Saturday like before and I think we souly needed it.  I watched him be the most puppy - chasing ball, running in puddles, drinking water off a slide, and burying his face in the grass.  I couldn't have asked for a better jump start to shake off the previous night.

Leroy and I got home around 9:30a and we sat in the backyard for a while, he hoping there's something to chase I don't have the back to work blues yet.  In fact, I'm sitting outside in the morning knowing it's my usual first day off but this week is Day 6.  I thought a lot about the week, all that I've done and some I didn't.  I thought about the funny looks I'd get after telling people my plans, both staying at home - not needing a car - being busy.  I didn't care, this wasn't there holiday.


Day 7: This one is just for me.


~~~~~

The last seven days started off meaning one thing, but through each of the experiences, became much deeper.  I realized it was not about deprivation, it was about reminding myself to slow down.  That, in itself, is a huge extension of kindness I don't often grant myself.

This week has been totally worth the wait.

1000 Opposite Sides

Travis has been writing 1000 words (at minimum) since January 1.  So what's that make, like a couple of roller rinks' worth of stories?  He's so rad.  No matter how tired, now matter what's happened during the day, he does it.  He freely and experiencly admits they all aren't brilliant, but that's not the point.  It's about doing it and through that determination, he's had some incredible pieces of creativity throw up in word.  It's inspiring.

Brandi has been conjuring 1000 ideas (at minimum) in her head since January 1.  So what's that make, like a couple of roller rinks' worth of dreams?  She's so mad.  No matter how much she fights being tired, no matter how much she ignores the day, she's not doing it.  She openly and humbly admits they all aren't brilliant, but that's not the point.  It's about doing it and through that damn fear of failure, she's had some incredible goals of intention throw up in someone elses portfolio.  It's infuriating.

Marching Orders

Back in November, probably just after the 8th, I met my friend Amy at work so I could return her book on the history of olive oil.  Looking back, how poignant would it have been if the book was a history on suffraging, tampons or Pussy Riot.  But olive oil feeds my (v)egan soul, too. Trying to put the perplexity of the results on hold for a moment, we spent time catching up on happier conversation.  But inevitably our attention went to the sadness we felt and talking through ways to support each other during this election trauma.  She was the first person to ask whether I was going to the Womens March in January.  She didn't have details, but it sounded like the perfect thing to ease my current state - so I absolutely agreed.

I had no idea at the time the impact it would have on me and our world.

~~~~~

I marched alongside hundreds of thousands in solidarity of a message bigger than ourselves.
It was one of the most significant days in my life.

I am so proud to call Womans March LA my first organized demonstration.  What an important and incredible experience.  If you weren't there, let me just say the TV captured the crowd but could not come close to replicating the intense energy of the people.  I don't think the chills have left me...  There was something in the air when we arrived at Pershing Square, but I felt the magnitude while my posse waited patiently on Hill Street. We heard far in the distance an incoming wave of excitement and it arrived like a fierce crash.  Without prompt we all cheered, raising our fists & signs in unison.  It seemed to pass slower than it came, which was fine by me because I didn't want it to end.  This happened several more times and each one brought a deeper level of understanding for why I was there.  I realized we stood with an unknown pack, each marching for our own reasons but with the same common agenda.  Utterly Powerful.

The people were as varied as the conversations, a free flowing exchange of support and encouragement. The words of kindness & smart societal comments prevailed. There was a sense of community and change, it was peaceful and with purpose.  High fives were being traded like everyone needed a pocketful and it was beautiful.  Dude, it didn't matter whether you arrived by yourself, you were never alone. As I walked slowly down the route, I observed the numerous souls in all directions making their personal statement, just like I was.  That we as fellow humanoids could stand against the normalization of nonsense & hate and it would count!  The view changed as frequently as my eyes could blink and I thought, this is what it's about. This is togetherness. I told every person I spoke with that I appreciated their courage and don't let this be the end! Continue being a unified voice with me.

I marched For Myself.

I marched For My Rights.

I marched For My Beliefs.

I marched For My Reasons.

I marched For Women in my life who have empowered me more than they'll ever know.  {I promise to take better notes.}

~~~~~

"Nothing changes if nothing changes, and if I keep doing what I've always done,

I'll keep getting what I've always got and will keep feeling what I've always felt." 

I pledged weeks ago Saturday's March would not be a single day experience, but a commitment to do better for the things I care about. I get those calls to action now that President Obama, Michelle Obama and Bernie Sanders rallied for.  I can't imagine how anyone participating wasn't impacted by at least one moment, interaction or story.  I witnessed it tenfold and that makes this all the more real & tangible

To keep the national momentum going, the organizers of the Womens March created a new campaign: 10 Actions, 100 Days.  It's just that, 10 totally doable, high valued activities we can each participate in for our political future. You wanna spice up in 2017 but not quite sure you're ready to pickle your way to the party?  That's cool, take 10 minutes over coffee, yo.  Write both Al Franken (because you know why) and your state Senator. Write local, contact a councilperson. Tell each of them what issues matter to you, that their help is appreciated (recognition is a key morale driver) and you'd love to hear what doughnut shops they love!  It's about better connecting leadership with the movement.

And it doesn't stop there for me.  I'm keen on utilizing that model for assembling my own personal campaign.  Or as the kids say, I'm motivated AF.  It's easy to fall into the trap of life's too busy, so I did something about it - I permanently cancelled my very made up subscription to Next Week Monthly.  These will be the community and personal Actions I can organize for myself over the next year.  It'll be a mixed bag of solo shindigs and knocks on your door, friend.  It's about impacting those around me through charitable & social improvements.  Volunteerism, creative projects, wellness, picking up trash on the street, get a block hootenanny going, submitting a piece to an art show, getting more involved with my home owners group / maybe joining the board, and the Swing Left initiative.  It's ambitious, but I urge you to figure out a little plan for yourself.  I can spitball ideas for hours so call me if you wanna session together! Mine will evolve and grow and be better defined over time, but they're manageable.  And if enough of us manage the expectation, it's achievable.

How awesome would it be if we started saying, oh man... I've had too much good news today!


I will stay invested.
I will not let this motivation lapse.
I will no longer sit idly by and hope.
I will hold myself accountable to continue the movement.

WE ALL HAVE A SPHERE OF INFLUENCE, DON'T BE AFRAID TO USE IT.

~~~~~

Instead of a handheld sign, I went for a tshirt because I brought my camera to document this historical event. Lemme tell you tho - WOW, the creativity. I mean talk about a pussy riot.  But if I had made one that wasn't my shirt, I liked EMUFFS ENOUGH.  I was also keen on unicorns pooping a magical message.

Moonergy

Our interaction with the moon is like an emotional metaphor ~
- UP: You're looking towards the future, symbolizing your desires, goals, hope & personal strength
- AHEAD: Where we spend most of our time, focused on tackling the daily challenges of getting by
- DOWN: Our body & soul knows we break and this is the space before finding our way back

~~~~~

My mind is open lately and I've been interested in broadening my understanding of new ideals.  Human energies & interactions, mindfulness & non-religious philosophies, and even the power of (a few) crystals.  Not to say any one of those will/will not resonate, but I am a creature of curiosity and a good curiosity satisfies.  But rarely have I sought out a moon event that was considered of spiritual significance, I just usually stumble upon them.  Like blood moons and eclipsed moons, moons that are missing or ginormously neat.

My friend shared an article about the best way to absorb the Wolf Moon of January, which happened January 12.  After scanning the highlights I decided to have a go.  It was after 10pm when I slipped on my jacket & wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, enticing Leroy from his slumber where he too, slipped on his OUTSIDE! face.  I gathered what I'd just read and created my version of the procedure: sit with the moon, look/absorb its beauty & energy, speak the achievements & tone for the upcoming year, and identify opportunities to grow from the last.  I'd never done that before, but I guess you can't really do it wrongly.  So I wasn't expecting anything other than the joy of being present after stopping my brain for a few shakes.

I ticked the roster of things I wanted to discuss and had a conversation.  And while she never verbally responded, I felt her reply.  I stared at the giant, glowy mass, my eyes taking in the movement and magnitude of the moment, as if it was drumming a Brandi beat.  Or maybe it was just the blood pulsating through my eyeballs...  I noticed a small, wispy cloud pass in front of the moon in an otherwise chill sky.  It was hanging on just enough to overcome something important.

I could relate.

In between his writing breaks, I asked Travis to join me.  Maybe he would find his moment too.  Although I can't speak for him, we did spend time literally howling together.  It was rad and self-assuring and liberating.

Before going to bed, I set my tiny crystal outside to charge in the moons luminescence.  What the hell, right?  If it hadn't had been like freezy cold, it would have been awesome to yard camp.  I went to bed excited about my new experience, feeling optimistic & way more self-kind than I have in a while.

~~~~~

The next morning I woke up refreshed.  I got me & my new kicks ready for a lovely jog in the cool morning air.  my favorite.  As I headed towards the neighborhood track, I grabbed the tiny crystal, shrugging as I tucked it away in my stash pocket.  what the hell, right?

I had a very, very solid pace & distance.  I had a great day at work.  I still believed in what I declared that night.



just sayin'...

My Friend Morton

"This is really delicious. I can't imagine how anyone has a better life."  Morton sat quietly in the shade of a large oak tree, savoring a crunchy snack as two bluebirds gossiped above his head.  He wasn't ready to swallow the joy he heard in their shallow speak, but he'll put it in his pocket for later.  The warm lemonade sun filled the sky around him, but not directly.  He didn't care much for that.  Morton swallowed the rest of his breakfast with a final crescendo, meticulously tidying his face as he searched for hidden morsels.  "I mean, seriously..." he simultaneously sighed & closed his eyes, resting on the wise bark.  The faintest of smirks began to creep along the side of his mouth.

Morton loved his home and was proud of how far he'd come.  Although modest in size, its collected wares displayed a thoughtful appreciation to his first true love.  The one who took him away from his other life.  His parents weren't usually there, as folks around those parts tended to never be.  Morton was a typical middle existence, confined to the demanding attention of all those sibling eyes begging for attention.  Responsibility didn't come easy, but he took it seriously.  Some days he would scour the back alleys behind the downtown bakeries, hoping there lay a feast around the crumbling bricks.  Some days his family didn't eat at all.  He often felt alone while tending to his younger kin, day dreaming about creating a life bigger than what could ever be found staying in the corners of the room.

"Just a few more minutes in this moment..." his shift would be starting soon.

~~~~~

"I always wanted to make a difference."  Morton proudly said to no one as his eyes grazed upon today's harvest.  A surge of determination filled his voice.  He found this bustling world to be the pin that inspired his choices, both in cooking and in life.  Although no one ever noticed his contributions, he actually enjoyed getting up early now, excited for the days' purpose yet to be written by his knife.  Not like before when he would sleep all day after brawling into the dawn, doing anything to escape his circumstantial boredom.

Morton spent most of the week working in a stale restaurant, the old familiar faces blurring past while he stayed focused on his goals.  He delicately sliced & chopped, prepping a beautiful offering for the tired scavengers who never noticed.  He often distracted himself by imagining his own place, the signs' firefly like glow beaming his name.  Morton thought of the customers who would wait all week for a chance to sit at his chef's table, patiently watching him weave a masterpiece of fine delicacy from scratch.  He knows one day his presence will tremble the lessor creature.  And he liked that very much.

"MORTON!!  I need that side in 90 seconds."  demanded his boss.
"On it chef." he hoped, emitting an aire of fraudulent confidence as he flipped his precisely cut vegetables sautéing in the small fry pan.  He respected what he could learn from the boss, but wished he would put him in charge some times.  Just once, then he could prove them all wrong...

"Hello Miss, how are you today?"  chirped the host.

"Fine." assertively sending a half-grin as she walked past, headed for the usual table.  The stench of her judgement lingered deep into the kitchen.  What was her story, Morton wondered.  It was the one customer he always noticed because her indistinct attitude bothered him.  He didn't like the courage she emanated, from her curls to her frilly dress.  She sat there, freedom to eat her toast and cottage cheese while his talent was stuck behind a "yes chef."  he was jealous.  His eyes seething as he stared out at her tiny frame.  She knew what she was doing and he hated her for it.

~~~~~

"This is really delicious. I can't imagine how anyone has a better life."  Morton sat quietly in the shade of a large oak tree, savoring a crunchy snack as two bluebirds gossiped above his head.  He wasn't ready to swallow the joy he heard in their shallow speak, but he'll put it in his pocket for later.  The warm lemonade sun filled the sky around him, but not directly.  He didn't care much for that.  Morton swallowed the rest of his breakfast with a final crescendo, meticulously tidying his face as he searched for hidden morsels.  "I mean, seriously..." he simultaneously sighed & closed his eyes, resting on the wise bark.  The faintest of smirks began to creep along the side of his mouth as he heard her struggling to loosen the heavy chains again.  He patted his chef's knife that lay near him on this beautiful day, "Soon friend we'll get to work."

Untitled Park

A couple or many weeks ago, Travis was in Las Vegas hosting shows at the Laugh Factory.  Leaving me to life devices such as puppy, work and uninteresting activities.  Oft mornings, I'll chat with our next door neighbor as we're both leaving to exercise.  She knew Trav was away and wanted to keep me company, so we agreed to cash in the Saturday night meal we've talked about for years.  Bring on the Lebanese dinner & wine.  and then more wine.

After a lovely evening with these proper quirky folks, I took Leroy on a walk for us both to expense some stored and stumbly energy.  I strolled down the middle of our neighborhood with nowhere in particular as my beacon, consumed in a hazy orange streetlamp glow.  I ended up running into a neglected closet full of my fierce independentism.  You know the kind that only reveals itself when time, temperature, and the right amount of lady-autonomy collide.  I certainly wasn't looking for it, but immediately fell backwards into my youth.  I drew a slow, deep breath and held it there - the significance bumping into every memory.  It was like getting a whiff of that thing you deprive yourself and suddenly needing a fix.  I no longer needed booze to perpetuate the feeling.  I was inspired.

I needed to create, but not at home; that simply wouldn't do.  I needed to be among the feeling, the experience, carrying illuminated umbrellas from the entire pumpkin spectrum.  I needed to be where I found the portal, although that exact spot would get me run over so... to the park!  Despite heeds from a friend, it was perfectly suited to support my habit of choice for the evening, especially at 11p.  When you enter that mindset you're not thinking about being scared, or hurt, or that ok maybe it's not the best idea to actualize when you're drunk.  none of that matters.  I grabbed a laptop, spare key, and marched silently towards my mission.

Here is that story: unedited, unapologetic, and 100% unread.


let's enjoy this together, lovelies.
~~~~~

I haven’t done this in a long time.  Wander the streets of my neighorbood, the liquid courage of alchol behind me.  Just picked up and walked put, because that in someway is abandoning my rsponsibilites. I wish the technology was to the point where I could walk and talk and record all my thoughts, but we’re not quite there yet.  So as Leroy pulls and sniffs and does his thing, all I think about is writing mine.  The smells that remind me of this, the feelings that envelops my body, the time and place that im transported to another time because of how I feel.  None of that will stay if I don’t come back here alone, with my electronic words, capturing it all.

I found myself driven to relive something that I can’t pput a finger on.  Whims of memories envoeloed my mind; experinces of dropping acid, and being high in a park and the innocecent naitivy of your teens.  I don’t know why walking my dog at 35 ½ on a june night xxx years later brought that on, but it did.  Aagain I said maybe the liquid fueld of wine has helped bring me back here, but I’m ok with it.

It was just after 11pm.  I told a friend I was headed to the park to write and I hope he kicked ass as his Pheaonix comic panel talking about something I don’t know.  He said yu’re there with a laptop?  And I was like dude, it’s like the most innocent part I know, I got here every morning.   But that’s just it – I visit iduring the day, or morning, whatever.  If it’s nighttime I’m walsk morving with my dog or my hugsband, never stationary.  So with every step I take closer, my teenage confidence faulters a little.  So as I type this, I’m sitting in the driveway of two people I know that live next to the par and it’s weird.  I’m a chump who is pretending, or am I.  many people I know would NEVER even sit here, but I am.  I want to hear the sounds, the noise, the tension, the curiousity, he seedynes.  Is that what I need as a jolt?  I want to continue towars the benches and swings and the familiarity o fmy youth, but that’s another time.  I shed a little emotional tear.  Ihave too much experience to let myself into a potentially dangerous stiuaton and somehow, sitting here on a sidewalk maybe 100ft away is protiective.   Maybe this is my transition into being a grownup.  I want to be that adventurouds youth I once was, but im scared.  I’m not her anymore.  I’m not the rsik taker, the ignoramous, the wont’ happen to me.  I sit here on the sidewalk with my laptop on low, street traffic close, assuring me it’s ok still but now it’s on gornw up terms. 

 The people now don’t mean another juman, it’s someone who can potentially hurt me or whatever.

I sit here with my laptop and my hoodie and my shoes and think how the fuck were all those adults right.  I hate thme.  I hate they knew something I would find out too, but need to experience myself.

I think I’m done for the moment because I need to hurl.  Ok cool, at least I have some form of my youth left inside.

The alcohol makes you invincible to rantionale, the driving, to problems.   Makes you love more or relize tmore the things you have.  Makes you sit in front ofyour neighborads house feeling totally ok with the fact that it’s kinda weird, yet would offer them a joint or drink if ou could..  I need to live more.  I need to feel more.  I need to exist.

Thank you noise, thank you couage, thank you experience.

Ants sitting, glow of the screen / carry laptop. Poop bag inmy pocket. Need to wa;k to feeli do feel safe in my neighborhood as long as im moving

As I navigate away from my temp home, I walk closer & closer towards reality of hime. The puke seems more present

35 Year Check Up

In two months, at the stroke of 2:48p (I think) on December 9, my bells will ring for the 35th time.  And although no one's tinkering with the switch in that on/off kinda way, I feel like it's my halfway point.  Or I just had a numbergasm: I like even things.  And before you say "pray tell, the number 3 & the number 5 are odds," which duh.  I say 35 is half of 70, which is an even number, and I group actual even numerals, halfsies, and splits of things together into one bucket.

Because obviously I'm dancing with one foot over a grave, I've been taking stock of all things Brandi.  Tweak and adjust the things that I'd like to refine; Strive for quality time against what I enjoy or want to pursue, which in the past often came secondary to others.  Especially that last point is just my nature, but it's time for a shift.  Seriously, there's some rad shit I wanna do!


Wellness takes many forms. 

• BODY: I've done the gym thing for nearly 20 years.  You know the routine: mostly cardio, some free weights, comparisons of my body against 'dem other bitches.  Overall it's been a long-form study of just getting by, so the last 12 months I've taken a different approach because insanity.  I've made efforts to understand nutrition and its effects on my individual model unit.  Currently reading about sugars and fiber and proteins.  And I tell you, it's been an incredible WOW experience for approaching food and why holy ballz we have such an unhealthy culture.  I don't ever want to be a statistic, so...
• I credit this simple, long overdue education as an aid to realizating many, many results!  I still continue to learn, because life doesn't stop after a suss.  But check it kids, I'm eating more because I'm eating smarter.  AWWWWWW YEAHHHHH.
• also this
• MIND: I've been seeing a therapist for several months now.  There's always been an internal agitation of emotions and frustrations I didn't know how to handle, and certainly didn't know where to begin expressing.  But as fellow problem solvers are one to do, thought "Well I was never taught how, so I guess I'll figure it out like everyone else."  wrong.  I don't have to feel utterly helpless against the situations my parents put me through.  I don't have to feel downright tethered to my inability to read & articulate my emotions.  I don't have to feel alone.  Nope! I finally have this really swell counselor in my corner, providing tools for change.  CHUCK NORRIS KICK!
• finally found a name for something I may have a mild form of this
• also this

• SKIN: With unavoidable changes due to the environment, aging and that "BODY" update, I've been paying a lot more attention to my skin because I'm seeing shifts.  Face, neck, hands.  For 10+ years, I've used sun block, every. single. day.  I don't squint, I don't frown, I don't raise my forehead when a moment of shock attacks, and I sleep on my back.  I've upped my commitment to washing my face twice a day, using a facial sonic brush, and researching what an epidermis needs at 30, vs 40, vs 50, on till old.  Just like internal nutrition, our skin deserves the same attention to detail.
• I saw our resident dermatologist for a surface check up and his official diagnosis: THUMBS UP!

~~~~~

I don't mind aging, I look forward to it actually.  Because wrinkles are inevitable, I have the means to showcase those experiences in the best way. Or maybe I look forward to the diminishing concern for what others think as the years go on.  But until I admit that, I look forward to additional wisdom, evolution, taking photographs, volunteering, reading, retiring, the things I don't yet know yet, and sharing a solid life with people I care mmensely for.

Nostalgia Face: 90s Music

It's 1994 or whatever and I'm feeling something.  I sit at my desk, door closed, sun brightly coming through the closed curtains I just made.  Against a backdrop of school work, drawings, passed notes and my friends clothes - man, if only I was older, I could be on my own doing exactly this.  I look down at several plastic jewel cases, each one a key to exploring my life.  Which do I choose: number, blurred, or completely fucking important?

I pick up and open completely fucking important, careful it remains undamaged; the thought of it not existing means I lose the comradery I just found.  It was too precious and I couldn't let that happen.  I gently pluck the round, pliable disc out its claw-toothed holder with a faint click.  Punch open the cheap CD changer not worthy of playing any of this, but down goes the disc, P for freedom.

Without hesitation I was drawn.  I parted the frayed opening of torn jeans, revealing a secret world and I walked in, wearing nothing more than a thrift store tshirt and a pair of dirty chucks.

The song that jarred the door to feeling understood begins, played as loud as my parents will allow on a Saturday afternoon.  they still probably hated it.  I jumped & twisted on the grey carpet, shaking my head up and down, just like the music videos showed me.  My hands starting to perform some sort of rhythmic action...  I knew how ridiculous I looked having no experience being graceful at a head bang, and being solo without a family to join me, but I finally connected to something way beyond my comprehension.  I didn't have to understand why to know I fucking loved it.   This was for me.  always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last night we watched the Kurt Cobain documentary, Montage of Heck.  Travus has spoken countless times about how the 90s is where his heart will always live.  I couldn't disagree because mine does too.  In both are minds, the 90s were simply the last decade.  I graduated not that long ago, babydolls & docs are still kinda popular, and it's ok for me to sit on the floor in my room listening to this music over and over again.  This film brought all of it rushing back, as if to remind me I must fully appreciate what we experienced.  Reliving the past through the visualization of house parties, backyard shows, music, drugs, behaviors and friends.  That was our lives.  My life over 4 years.  Every running frame on that flat TV was like a convex mirror surrounding my brain, reflecting where & how I grew up, just different faces staring back.  A solitary image glimpses in my head of each girlfriend and I, with our arms around each other, smiling at who we are, each a mess of awesome.  I miss that.  terribly.

oh god... I found my nostalgia face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Travis left for his comedy show, I went to the CD rack and ran my fingers over the boat loads of lyrical memories from both his and my intersecting lives.  I thought back on how many years it took for him to feel comfortable with us combining our music - no joke.  I didn't have many, but the few I had lived on separate shelves; we didn't co-mingle the past.  I didn't care; made it easier to find mine actually... But at some point post-wedded bliss, it finally felt right.  still makes me laugh though.  But for any duplicate albums, I would tuck a sticky note inside the liner notes with the letter B... just in case.  I recently went through those and peeled them off, one by one, because silly.  Except Nevermind.  I couldn't.  It was the embodiment of a turning point in my life that isn't soon repeated.  No sir-ee-bob, I wouldn't lose the actual physicality that took me there.

I finally landed on our copies of Nevermind.  his and hers.  gross, I just got a toothache.  I plucked both from their shelf plot and held one in each hand.  Which was whose?  I set them on the table and went liner note fishing.  bam.  Here she was, suddenly the same anticipating teenage girl ready to listen, experiencing emotions I still yet can't describe accurately.  How do you not respect that?

I sit here at my laptop, 20 some years later, the backdrop updated but familiar.  The CD now spins inside this portable, metal computing machine, which if it eats my disc I'll rip it's guts out.  Music still plays, clothes still unfolded, books books books, a puppy, and now our home.  I'm combing the memory banks for all that was once right in my life.  Simple, but complicated in the lamest sense.  My age will never matter.  I still feel like I'm playing grownup...

Sure, Nirvana made alternative ok.  Manufactured or not, it took a culture and shoved it into the oculars of every household.  And for me, it could have been any band, really.  It just happened to be them.  They unknowingly allowed millions of psyche's to start another revolution of questioning the norm.  And I wanted in.  With fury, I started listening to everything my parents hated or didn't consider country: grunge, alternative, psychedelia, punk, classical, nature sounds, foreign, my friends screamo bands, the bargain LPs at Goodwill.  I embraced The Ramones and NOFX, went to horribly overcrowded Guttermouth shows and generator parties.  Tenaciously repeated the mixed tapes these dudes gave me till they were worn out, laughed when Blink added 182.  Debated why The Smashing Pumpkins really only had one album and remained confused by why people liked Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Got stoned to Oasis and tripped on Mazzy and wondered what IS Bob gonna do now that he can't drink?  Sang awful renditions of Hole songs and crushed on Trent Reznor.  Screw you normalcy, I won't concede! shakes fist.

For us absorbent teenagers in the coveted youth demographic though, that part of the 90s was way more than marketing.  I needed the expressionism, not because it was popular, but because it moved me.  It broke down what my parents dictated; the desire to feel more and think more and explore more and to know I wasn't alone.  I was part of something huge and weird and special - I was hooked on a drip line of sounds and influence.

My life with Travis reopened that experience and I'm fucking grateful.  I guess I was too busy or whatever, but I somehow missed Screaming Trees and Mudhoney, Radiohead and Faith No More.  Kyuss, PJ Harvey, L7.  Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Pixies and Sonic Youth.  And like all the other ones your shouting at me right this very second.  Luckily we have countless musicalories left on MyDiscusPal to continue feasting.  And because the 90s will only ever be a few years behind us, it calms me to know when we're grey and feeble, we'll sit together on the floor and air drum our way to the grave.

<3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't know then how incredible that time was, but I kinda owe it everything.

I respect you oh great decade, for I shall never replace you.

A Sigh Of Releaf

Mornings with Leroy:
- i wake around 6.  puppy stretches & yawns, watching from the bed as i put my sleepy eyes & legs away for another 17 hours.  unless there's a bird or squirrel, he just kinds stares while his parts warm up too
- he attends his standing early morning monkey business meeting
- i poke around at home till 7 or go running
- feed our wakened souls
- walk with the boy or walk the boy to the park* where he plays with E.D.I., Ripley, Kato, Thunder, and other fuzzy faces
- return home and rush to get ready for work, longing instead for the stress of entrepreneurship

* Leroy leads the first order of business and always has at least a second topic, sometimes even a third when we go walking.  Not sure what jostles loose, but it's 100% on schedule.

~~~~~~

When the puppy poop bag holder is empty but I can't refill it right away, I'll remove the top as a reminder.  set myself up solid Wednesday night.  But the next morning grabbed without noticing.  It wasn't until we were 10 minutes and several blocks into our walk, when Leroy hunkered over and I {queue slow motion} reached down for the pooooop bag aaaaaand noooooooooooooooooo!

I was in the hot seat:
(a) leave it                                            (b) run home for bags
(c) scoop it up via stick and leaf          (d) stare at it, hoping it decombusts ala Dio of glory

I chose (c) Final Answer

Travis and I usually wrap the leash around our wrist, like how a clown would tie a balloon to a child wanting to fly away...  I do it in case I fall to the ground in a fit of consumption, he couldn't run away.  It also helps tremendously when you need both northern appendages.

There was a large magnolia leaf and a tiny stick on the ground, so scooped the poop I did.  I started laughing, really hard at the situation because this ain't the first time...  Leroy is smiling, pacing in circles nearly wrapping the leash around my legs like c'mon dude let's go!  But I'm like we can't just take off my friend, I'm holding your agenda!

So picture Leroy on pace, his leash around my wrist and a fresh sandwich in my hands.  The only neighborhood activity I've noticed were the gossiping hens.  As we near the smell of home, the fear he's going to start pulling towards something, thus making me greatly steady the ol' lady biceps, is diminishing.  Proudly I declare "I think we're gonna make it buddy!"  And then the most lucky thing happened, a woman and her dog appeared on the corner...

Now Leroy is a friend to dogs and wishes above wish he could meet them all.  But since that's not realistic, we continually coach him to know when it is or is not ok.  At this moment, regardless of how open this little guy is, not ok!  The image of him pulling, me stumbling and turds-a-flyin is immediate; I can't get to the treats because hands are occupado, which is how we usually focus his attention.  Instead I relied on my cheerful morning voice & good looks to keep his engagement, achieving a look at me/look at the dog/repeat success rate.  I'm still laughing, speaking in a higher pitched "who's the puppiest of puppies!" voice, waving the sticky sub around to show him how cool it is to keep watch.  All the while, corner human & guest stare at the spectacle before them, silently shooting evils of confusion & judgement.

All three of us made it home and then I dropped the entire leaf in the driveway.

crap.

HAPPY FRIDAY!  time to log off~

Good Morning: A Conversation

It seems my mind shop never really closes, even when wafting on and off to sleep.  or working.  or writing.  or exercising.  or cooking.  or in therapy.  or during sex... yeah, that ones the worst.  It can't just be me - that's gotta be a thing other people experience too, right?

Thinkers, tinkers, and achievers, believers, connivers, and creativey types.  I'm sure you can relate to the idea we're in a near constant debate against the most personally crippling antagonist we will ever know.

*****

I forced my eyes to remain closed this morning in the hopes that today a cognitive reprieve would be granted.  Experiencing a days' worth of conversation without ever having peeped your waking surroundings in exhausting.  maybe next time:

• i should get up.  don't open your eyes because you know there's no chance.  god why is there so much to do - i'm sure i won't get to it. again.  i better strip the paint off those wood beams because i don't want to make any rash decisions about painting or staining when the construction starts.  i wish it was done already so i could enjoy it.  that's not too much to ask.  will travis wanna sit out there with me and eat dinner?  i'm so looking forward to spending mornings with puppy.  when am i gonna exercise?  should i go running today because i think it's helping that area look better or am i just imagining it would. barre class is a quick hours' work and i don't want to lose the groupon and i don't know how many sessions are left.  but i could take puppy for a walk, then go jogging for a while, which would leave more of the morning free and burn more calories than barre, but it'll then be another damn week before i get back there and gah, how many classes do i have left?  i should just go.  i always feel better afterwards.  it'd be really nice to say fuck it all today and take a long, slow walk to the doughnut shop without feeling guilty.  i hate feeling guilty all the time.  but i'd be alone and that kinda sucks and then i'll lose two hours of my day just doing that and puppy wouldn't get a walk and travis won't get a doughnut or he will and then his guilt will come since he can't work out right now.  and then i'd feel bad and ugh... i should get up.  this is pointless.  my favorite time of day is happening and i'm wasting it laying here because i refuse to admit i'm up.  limes! i really want my own business.  oh yeah! i'll have lots of calories today after i workout so what dessert should i make?  i can't believe how much i enjoy cooking right now.  wait am i going or not going?  i have to make a decision.  i gotta be careful with all this low calorie business because I don't want the sunken face again.  but shit, isn't that the tradeoff between the insecurities of my legs and how my face looks.  i wish my legs looked better. i wish i didn't care.  what's that thing amy said?  you can't have a great ass and a great face?  i should look that up.  i'm so sick of blasted worrying all the time about this, maybe when i'm old i won't care.  maybe it's this city.  but if i'm fat when i'm old, that'll lead to other problems.  maybe i'll be like that 90 year old gymnast who never stops exercising.  that'll show my granny friends. i bet the neighborhood kids will like me.  my negative foot and busted up knee already suffer...  why am i so hard on myself?  why can't i get over all this shit.  i'm healthy.  i'm hungry.  why do i love the morning quiet so much?  i have this same set of fantasies each weekend for some life i don't live.  what can i make with all those blueberries i bought?  i want pancakes but those have calories. i want a muffin but what's a good vegan recipe?  i wish my brain knew this stuff.  all those limes that tree is gonna give birth.  fuck, i have so many ideas but so few actuals to show for it.  that sucks.  i need to change that because this one could really work.  i'd need a great name.  XXX lame.  XXX no that's awful, XXX is kinda silly but stupid for my personality.  maybe travis should help me because he's really good at that stuff.  but then if it's amazing, he'll get the credit and this is my thing.  no - saying that doesn't even feel right.  I should just love the idea it doesn't matter where it came from.  he's so supportive.  dude, how long have I been laying here pretending I'm asleep?  can i recreate this conversation and write it all down - this is important.  i pretend i don't want to check twitter and facebook but to myself.  that's odd.  did I post something on instagram last night?  i should just get up and make tea and write about that idea, finally.  i was gonna do it.  why do i fall into this pattern?  just do it dude because you know its awesome.  just like this other thing is awesome and you don't want to miss your opportunity.  ok i'll get up, make some tea, water the plants while I check the three, then take puppy for a walk, then i'll come back and write and brainstorm and be kinder to me........... ugh.  i should get up and start my day.

A Curious Creature Indeed

"this creature, with his 2 missing legs and giant triangular antennae and long fur around the face is curious...  He has chased yours truly around all day, trying desperately for me to spend time in his drooling lair.  We've never met, let alone spoken to one another, so it's a bit forward I must say.  he's persistent, this one.

After spending much of the day taking in my surroundings, despite the creatures peculiar fascination, I was finally able to lift myself high enough out of reach.  With so much moving about, I've worked up quite the appetite and need a rest & a boost.  I take stock of my neighborhood and stroll by some dining establishments.

The Sill.  too sunny.
The Stagnant Saloon.  uh uh, a little foul for my taste.
The Counter.  seems just right

...and what's this??!  I always fancy a treat!

Why is this other giant creature with 4 missing legs, molded antennae and no fur is using some device to magnify me.  Can she not see very well?  Oh well, no bother.  This candy is serious business..."

~~~~~~~~~~


AHHHHHHHH!  NOW HE'S AFTER ME AGAIN, SNAPPING & INSISTING I VISIT HIS SLOBBERING CAVE!!!

LEAVE ME ALONE!

ACKKKKK!!!  HE GRABBED MY LEG AND NOW I ONLY HAVE 83.34% LEFT.  HOW CAN I GO ON............?

- Sir Flysington

When Your Number Is Extended.

"Nothing happens until something moves."
- Albert Einstein

Reflection is a peach, ain't it?  If only those words had graced my plate all those months ago I could have saved a lot of heartache.  you'll see.  This is the conclusion to a series of four posts relating to what had been happening with my job & company.  This cessation on pixelated paper started the weekend leading into February 2, but I could never corral the words to finish.  The events ended up being too raw for any cohesion, let alone finding the strength to edit myself.  And although often present in thought, patiently its been waiting in drafts' silence.

Recently I grabbed a doughnut, lifted the lid and peeked inside.  For what it's worth, this is about 68% original words.

And I'm sorry it took so long to see the end, if anyone (I'm sure no one) had been following the story.

*************************

Monday, February 2.

My gut told me this would be the week; no more delays.  The air was thicker, the people combative - or maybe I was just conditionally defeated and every interaction felt like junk.  I didn't want to speak with anyone, let alone be there, but no where else would have me.  The Trojan horse was nearly upon us and I had zero defense.

I distracted myself with work, begging to keep afloat; tasks requiring anything above a key punch should be avoided.  I expelled tremendous amounts of energy willing all the feelings down, placing cupped hands over my eyes & fingers plugging my ears while invisible pink slips danced in the wings.  But it was no use; the day was shot.  All I'd been able to do was hitchhike around my head, holding a Map of the Imminent.  How could I have experienced so much already, with so much left in the distance?  I was thrashed, somber, and unhinged...  The clock sluggishly found 6 and I headed home, wondering whether tonight will finally reveal the impending tomorrow.

Travis could sense the agitation as I walked in the house.  He asked how this Monday had been any different than all the other times it was supposed to have happened.  I remained motionless, unintentionally ignoring him while my head grasped for sense.  It just was and I attempted to articulate more: was it intuition, was it a desire to rip off the bandaid?  I hacked away at the emotional onion, but it was void of substance.  Even tears.  I just needed to know he was there when all others had long split.

I planned to go with him to his late night comedy show, because fuck it all if I'm tired.  Before leaving though, I called my best friend Anne.  I had to ramble to another set of ears in an attempt to silence mine.  And after what I'm sure were long-winded sentences, the lightbulbs stopped their electric flicker.  ...pretty sure I sight-gag dropped the telephone.  The months of mental anguish I forced myself through hadn't prepared me for shit because it wasn't working towards anything definitive.  Just a bunch of vague birds squawking, their flightpath dancing to the ACME carnival band.  And already chosen was the first bird to poop.  So dude, it was all for naught.  How could I have not seen that.  Or maybe I did but I just didn't want to accept it.

The conversation said goodbye and for the first time in what seemed like over a year, I actually shelved those blasted thoughts.  It was so liberating to close the door for a night, while I enjoyed the company of a most handsome husband.  We went out and had a swell evening, lots of laughs and some beers.



Tuesday, February 3.

NOTE: I had a lot typed here initially.  A lot.  Details accounting most of the day because maybe as a reader you've never experienced a giant layoff.  In a nutshell - it's hard... really, truly, miserably hard.  In seconds you find out some really amazing colleagues were just canned and even less time to question why you were spared.  And in my case, again for the umpteenth time.  But as I switched this, moved that, redacted here - it was either nothing new or nothing interesting.

*****


9:00am and the company wide email arrived to innocent inbox's & apprehensive eyeballs.
fuck.
9:00am, 37 seconds and on to the afternoon was sad.  So very, very sad.


I spent those spiritless hours being there for anyone who wanted to talk.  Those choice people would entrust me to hold their crying tears, or happy tears, their secrets...  I'd hold them for how ever long was needed.  It was my small way of making a contribution to such an event.

If by 5pm our bodies still remained on site, we were employed.

~~~~~

Travis and I took a walk that evening and I talked more of what happened.  About my friends who suddenly faced joblessness in two months and how it made me feel.  Not selfishly, but therapeutically.  Many of those people hoped they would receive papers and for those, I say hellz yeah.  But some weren't as optimistic and that fully sucked.  To leave on your own accord is palatable, to be asked to leave is not something easily digested.  And for the colleague who'd screamed the loudest for change {clears throat} namely me, I was told the only thing to look forward to was my boss having a new face.



So It Goes.
I spent way too much precious time working the various angles of my future, analyzing what a layoff would or would not have meant.  Justified the pros and cons, rationaled daily where my career was, where I desired it and what did I even want anymore.  If I'd been working a theoretical math problem, there'd be no visible blackboard.  I drove myself batty inside a deprivation mind pod of what-ifs.  And you know what?  It never made a fucking difference in the end.  The creation of a new division and retaining 'the best' people wasn't even a blip of consideration, so thanks brain for prolonging the distress.  'preciate it.

I met Tough Tuesday with my hard fought decision that being laid off was the answer because the situation had become so bad, for so long.  I justified it as being the push over the cliff needed to work towards what I'd been threatening for a while: starting something artistic & entrepreneurial.  I have ideas!  But at a deeper level, a layoff became a fantasy.  A short answer to a long term stalemate.  This crutch I was clinging to inadvertently became the excuse for why I never started previously.  It came down to the justification that without a 9-5 job, I'd finally have the means and time to pursue this thing.  whatever this was.  And although not totally inaccurate, probably wasn't the best approach.  But it was something theoretically tangible so I went with it.

Being vulnerable is tough.  Being vulnerable financially and businessey is super tough.  I sought change in my life, but did I need to lose my job in order to make that happen? 

*****

Shortly after the new division found its footing, movement towards opportunity was suddenly a very real concept.  My new faced boss listened, cared about what I wanted and pushed to know what I needed.  Not just additional responsibility and challenges, money too!  which doesn't suck  He's done more in the last 5 months than the other did in 3 years, so things are much better.

I'm feeling valued;  I'm the leaderbot of our new Culture Club; I'm finding joy again.



Don't fuck with Einstein.

A Memorial Of Me

It is weird, isn't it.  Memorial services.  Despite being ok with the concept of death, I haven't had much experience short of a few special people.  One final time to say goodbye but not really because you still have the funeral - I reckon.  So outside of showing the customary support, love, respects of the deceased, I don't know what you do.  Do you eat?  laugh?  Take queues from the family about what this person would welcome?  Sometimes they don't even get that right.  Today I'm going to the memorial of someone I knew in my past.  And while I hadn't spoken to him since before cell phones, I'm anxious because there may be a lone memory I'm not ready to experience.  I know this isn't about me, but it feels like it...

I've locked most of these people and time away from my current life.  I only visit when it's time to share a story.  I don't hold on to what I had because my future isn't that person anymore.  I no longer speak to most of whom I considered family.  That will always be then, I am my life now.  So it's weird being pulled back into something you're not prepared for.  There are faces I miss, faces I don't.  There is one face who relationshipped with me but when it was over, distanced himself in every way possible.  I hear he's done that with most of that group; maybe we're not so different.  There are countless hours of laughs, tears, fights, love, hate, and everything in between wrapped up in those darling faces.  We haven't all been together in nearly 15 years, yet his passing stirs up memories as if it's only been a week.

This guy was intimidating in stature, but always sweet to me.  He cared about my well being and made sure all the ladies at those ridiculous house parties were safe.  He was and felt like a protector, who was quiet until he needed to speak.  Now he's gone and another element of my past has been entombed.

Don't Muck It Up

Ever have a creative idea you instantly know is rad, but sit on it for fear you'll muck it up?  Two years, Alice.  Two years I've stared up at that moon...

The bits continually presented themselves, with a curtsy and a middle finger.  I became so insane with excitement for where this could go; Enthusiastically jotted everything down as 'JUST WAIT WORLD!'  The optimism never waned because the little voice inside always hinted I'd be starting soon.  this month.  next weekend.  tonight.  But the segue between vision and execution never materialized.  Each time I steadied myself in front of the backlit stage, ready to put words to pixels, the gremlins threw tomatoes.  They gained strength from knowing the second I start on the secret ACME project, that makes it real and that means it could fail.  Or more truthfully, I could fail.

Eventually the momentum rescinded further and further into the nether-regions of an artistic nebula.


*****

I've been seeing a therapist for a few months and we've been making progress towards long overdue connections about uninteresting stuff.  Last Monday we dove into subjects I hadn't even considered discussion worthy, yet when our time ended and the last tears wiped, I left the office with an intangible cheeryness.  It was abstract, but an optimism was lurking about.

I usually come home and cook after my appointments because it's a mindless, enjoyable distraction while the emotions reset.  And yet despite the bubbly cloud following me, I didn't feel like it that night.  I sat in the kitchen, aimlessly trying to win the eye maze that exists between floor tiles.  Travis was getting ready for his comedy show and we chatted from our respective rooms.  I swung my feet in tiny, alternating circles, just like I did twenty-odd years ago while my mom cooked typical 1980s dinner.  The same step stool which cradles my tush now, held it then.

Travis kissed me goodbye, took off, and the vibe in the house began to settle into its evening routine of low lights and stillness.  But I was antsy and hoped a run would encourage the motivation I instinctually felt earlier.  or exhaust me.  Leroy gobbled his kibble & carrots; I gobbled the first spoonable item my hands could reach.  Laced up my trainers and out the door to feel the rush of wind as the neighborhood blurred by.  It was over an hour by the time I got to the park, winding down with a slower paced walk.  My legs twitched and lungs ached and foot ponies throbbed for how hard they pushed.  Some people walk to clear their head; I always seem to have a neuron dance party.  I shifted the physical indicators aside in order to focus on sorting the shimmying, spastic thoughts.

Then it hit me.

I stopped.

Whether it was the session, the exercise, a happenstance or concoction of all three...  I took a small step towards a major emotional goal.  Right there on a dingy sidewalk under a flickering florescent street lamp, I reached into my negative pocket (queue Bionic Woman bionic sound) and tossed a handful of self doubt.  Like it was a no big deal piece lint.  This is huge people!  Since that moment in third grade where I discovered what vulnerability was, the confidence bucket has generally tipped more on the negative, than positive.  The harsh view of myself a constant reminder of all the things I'm not doing, instead of all the things I've accomplished.  And I'm working on that, but it takes time.  A long time.  So to feel this piece of nasty weight suddenly eliminated so naturally, was an elation I never expected.

I was beaming!  I left that old tired, worn out view on the path of trampling feet and dogs and never looked back. 

With each step, a smile planted on my face and in my brain.  With each step, the clouds seemed to finally part on secret ACME project and I was about to jump 2 feet high because that would be really a lot for me!  I drafted the first few sentences in my head, repeating them so I wouldn't forget.  smiles.  I can do this.  The first few words I choose will set the tone for the entire study and I owe it to myself and the thing, to do right by it.
 

I'm finally ready because fuck those gremlins.

Let's do this, yo.

Gas Is For Suckers

I broke up with big oil one year and eleventy days ago, and I couldn't breathe happier!

WOW.  I can't believe 376 days have past since I said goodbye to my Toyota 4Runner, a car I never thought I'd part with.  Especially not for a cutesy, tiny Fiat who don't drink no gas!!  But that 180* change has been well worth the salty tears & cold metal hugs.

A fully electric car isn't a perfect machine, nor the perfect solution to our known adversary - pollution.  But it helps and that's a start.  I don't rely on direct oil to make my car go boom.  There's no gas, no pumpers, and it's without a myriad of other doo-hickies & doo-fluids any grease monkey could reference.  I don't worry about the engine failing because there is none.  Oh absolutely, if the battery dies, I can't go anywhere - but that's no different than your gas car.  The major exception being in my case, the dealership handles the replacement AND the bill.  schwing!  Here's a great FAQ resource.


Gas stations?  Oh, you mean the goofy convenience stores that sell snacks and some sort of smelly liquid?

Dead battery?  Oh, you mean what happens to lots of people anyway?

Traffic?  Oh, you mean what you're stuck in when I can zoom zoom down the carpool lane... with all my single self glory!?



THE POSITIVES:  I can ramp up to 60mph in like a few seconds because there's only one gear, it's uber quiet so I can sneak up on people & honk my horn, and I "fill up" at home while I sleep.  I can leave the lights on all night and it won't drain the battery, which I've confirmed is true on multiple occasions.  :/)  Using a public L2 charger only requires a keyfob on that network, where you just swipe, charge and go.   In Los Angeles, because they're so prevalent in high traffic areas, I can be resetting the miles while running errands.  And on average, it costs $0.75 - $1 per day to run around doing businessy business.  I cannot even convey the high joy I feel by owning one, while having virtually no disruption to my routine.

THE GET USED TO's:  Despite knowing my car is zippy, I have to be a more conservative driver on freeways because sustaining a higher MPH causes the battery to drain faster.  And hills, another conduit for a fast buh bye.  You have to plan more in advance and cannot drive super long distances without knowing you'll find an L2 charger.  And similar to gas stations, those prices are set by each public location, so you may pay higher premiums in some areas.  But deal breakers, not even close.


It's pretty rad being part of the super cool club.  I will never go back to a petrol car and have my sights set even higher for our next installment.  Although as Travis always says, we have Tesla dreams on a Fiat budget.  But all in due time, deary...

A Foundational Discovey, Part 3: Like Oil and Water and No

I started this post weeks ago, but as per usual, sat on it because I doubted the validity of what I had to say.  But things are happening! and I should be less silly.  It consolidated three very different drafts over three very different days, into one blocketed entry.  The first sentence you'd read set the tone for understanding each emotional moment's when and why.  Block A: excitement our appraisal was rad.  Block B: gloomy the initial landscape bid was more than anticipated.  Block C: Going through each up and down, climbing to the other side with a prosperous outlook once again.  I captured those word-for-word entries that were jumbled, half-thoughts really, and consolidated them.  It took everything to not tweak a word or correct a spelling when I re-read, knowing they'd be innocently judged.  I understood the importance of showing the evolution though, if nothing more than for me.
 
And then every word disappeared in less time than it took to write disappear.  Gone were the phrases I struggled with for weeks to make sense, the neat way that sentiment came together, the point of view I wanted to convey.  Gone were the snapshots of thoughts I would never get back.  gone, gone, gone because of some stupid, random series of split second coincidences.

My guts sank inside to a depth I hadn't felt in a long time; I'd been emotionally robbed.

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Now I write this, some time has past since it was lost.  Trying my best to replace what I liked and build the rest upon the gnarled, fighting pixels that remained.

March 31: The entry would offer how I finally uncovered what type of home we actually had, which is a Minimal Traditional.  It's plain, solid sticks were built for the returning WWII vets and their families.  Yup, Craftsmen and Case Study are magnificently rad, but this is something we can truly mold to us.  Weaving our chapter into the continuing story by reflecting upon the beauty of her youth, while creating a lovely & swell update for now.

The appraisal came back on the house and it was fantastic.  Enough for us to refinance our loan and eliminate the ridiculous mortgage insurance, while still having cashola for improvements.  Not as much as I hoped, but nothing to scoff at either.  We can do the things we need, some we want, and that's tops.

The lunch on March 31 felt different, sun beamed particularly optimistic.  I leaned way back in a patio chair, which rests upon those nasty, white rocks, and smiled.  I was so proud for how far we'd come.  My eyes fixated and unfocused at the dirt & grass shards before me; staring downward into this future, as if it were some sort of magic eye poster.  The means to an end was now a thing.

And then everything separated.

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April 1:  A simple miscommunication latched onto 3 years worth of financially ignorant daydreaming.  I folded up my happy pants and bought a ticket to sad town.

I mostly blame the home shows though for contributing to quite the unrealistic perception machine.  How they pretend it's so easy and edit out the reality how much is provided gratis.  Some of that is still on me and will not happen again, but I won't dismiss their part either.  For all the manual & mental efforts to see this seed develop, it was wilting before I even had the chance to kill it.

Travis and I went on a walk to discuss those last 24 hours.  I was kinda upset at myself for getting caught up in the excitement of having a completely redone front & backyard.  Pushing reasonableness aside and expecting the keys to the Chase Manhattan bank.  My vision narrowed and I lost sight to the fact many of our ideas were still totally going to happen.  Yet because the entire checklist was no longer an option, my grey friend suggested I must have somehow failed...  silly.

Trav sympathized, but couldn't fully understand why I was significantly bummed.  Sure, we both want the yard to be inviting, and he likes gardening too, but it's really my thing.  So going back to his practical stance, he's simply not as emotionally invested as I was.  So I shared examples more relevant to his deep interests and he got it.  Close your eyes and picture a hobby you totally dig.  Now think about that hobby being supported in a way that would allow you to do it whenever, only steps from your door.  Where you could develop, play and share it with friends - wouldn't you say yes?

In the end, turns out I needed a reset - otherwise nothing would ever have been good enough.  And that's not what any of this is about, so I'm glad it happened now, rather than later.  While it was tough, it was an essential conversation to have and we both felt better.

And then everything united.

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April-May ish, something or whatever:

I don't want this to come across as selfish or whiney, so if those thoughts have risen, I kindly ask to please shut your pie hole.  No question, we're doing this for us: privacy, fencing for puppy, envious curb appeal - duh.  But we're also cheerleaders for sustaining friendships and the environment; a place to listen to birds, essential low water needs, organic garden beds, helping the bee populous, and contributing sustainably to our teensy society through home grown food & laughter.  Why shouldn't we do something about that, in an aesthetically pleasing way?

So we are!  And you get to see the madness unfold...

Tree of Rage Furniture: Rage Dining

In less than an hour, our home will be filled with the third installment of a beautiful piece of furniture made from the rage tree.  To date, that makes a Rage Desk, Rage Bed, and finally this Rage Dining Table to call our very own.  Where I'll hug it and pet it and squeeze it and love it.

I look forward to sliding my grandparents Steel Case chairs up to the heads of the table.  Assessing the best placement of my succulents, place settings, chairs.  Kneeling at eye level, running my hand over the smoothe, sprawling top.  wow.  My mind wanders to the large brunches and dinners I can now finally offer; knowing the laughs that await, hugging lovely friends, and making memories that will embed themselves into each grain.  Hopefully he'll keep the secrets since who knows what'll happen to our brains in 50 years.

The evolution of this three year story is quite remarkable.  From the excitement of a ginormous tree in our yard, to the mess, to the removal, to the logs, to the tears, to the milling, to the craftsmanship by a man and his tools.  Not even gonna make a joke, because you're mind is already in the gutter.  Each piece that now sits in our home is distinct; they feel a little different, has it's own message, breathes independently of one another, yet are born from the same lone, spikerificus parent.  This table is the descentment of a remarkable crescendo.

But the transfer of one surface to another is extra personal for me, a confessional.  I have never regularly dined with any other table before.  I kid you not, it feels weird to leave it, which is weird to say about a table I played no part in acquiring.  But it feels right, this be the one who replaces it.  The previous eating apparatus was in my family since before I was born.  Literally.  My parents purchased it in 197x-something from a Marie Calendar's restaurant that was going out of business.  And all the years in Simi Valley that weren't spent eating cereal on the floor in front of the fuzzy TV watching Saturday morning cartoons, were spent reaching up for my bowl on that table. It kept my secret of drawing on my american cheese slices - and of course EATING THEM; it held me up when I would cry because of a bad grade.  It didn't complain when I branded it with green nail polish during a slumber party, or when I would kick its legs out of frustration for something my parents said no to.  It supported me in Palmdale when I would rest my head because I was so unhappy; it was also went with me when I moved away from that awful place and started life 2.0.

It's seen its share of joy and heartache.  Seems wrong to get rid of what I keep wanting to say is her, so at least for now, it'll stay with us.

{end cheese}

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you to the chump who planted this ridiculous, but beautiful tree.
Thank you to the city goobers for allowing us to take it down.
Thank you time and frustration, which forced us to find the best people in Los Angeles to surrogate our wood.
Thank you x1000 Josh at Arbor Exchange, for giving us these enduring formations that will outlive us.


...although I may request they be cremated with yours truly, so none of you fools can have them...

besos.