yes.
they are concise.
often encouraging efficiency.
Piles of them occur when I'm stressed.
So much to do.
I have an interview on friday, what to wear? earrings, hair. shoes, dress, sweater , leggings.
Driving makes me so angry. I runaround wearing scowls feeling ready to pop.
Rent a Uhaul, address changes, cancel classes and collect money, get work organized, so much to pack, make phone calls, cancel utilities, write last rent check, give 30 day,return library books and movies, I'd like to make something for all the dearies I am leaving, may not have time.
feel ready to spend evenings coloring with my nephews, visiting my parents regularly, seeing my grandparents regularly, riding my bike to charlottes and the hidden diner booths I know intimately. surprise visits. I'd like to be a pro at growing vegetables. making jams and dish towels, scavenging again. running into old friends , dancing at new and old haunts.
jeez, 28 years old and feeling so tired of fighting my inherent nature, and habits, so tired of feeling guilty or bad or not good enough or let down or disappointed. increasingly jaded. increasingly bitter, I'm afraid coming home won't change anything.
Today I found a small collection of Meg's whiskers. and thought that when she is long since dead I will find these and miss holding her and snuggling with her and feeling her warm soft coat in the middle of the night or hearing her bell and her voice.
I guess thats how it is with this life. eventually the memory is all you have.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
just got some exciting news lovies. an amazing job offer in my home town, even better with the san joaquin river parkway. I'm ecstatic!!!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
foods of the week
I've been painting and drawing a ton. I bought myself a new journal, just for finished ideas or drawing, and it's coming.
these are my favorite foods this week
pink lady apples
edamame
still reading
(all these pic, except the 1st and 2nd, where stolen from the interweb, hit me up if you are angry)
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
random encounters
So i'm not working much these days, which is nice.
I can fill my days with anything I want.
Mostly more painting, god, it's tedious detailed work too. I wonder what they'll discover when I'm dead, what piles of tedium will they find in my living quarters?
Thought. Is it fair to hold grudges? I'm not a grudgy kind of person, and I tend to believe that everyone is constantly changing in little and big ways. But what if the characteristics that you don't like about someone are part of their personality? What if they will never outgrow or understand how their micromanaging or controlling or even just pushing their truth on others, makes people around them feel. It seems okay to let that person go from your life, no matter how close they are.
and... don't forget that not everyone likes everyone else, it's pointless to force it, even if you are related.
jeez, people in san diego are all about the shift in consciousness..
what does that even mean.
There was a man, one. who would look at me and I could swear he was looking right thru me,
looking square at my longing for the little things of his life to be mixed with mine.
looking at all the encounters and jokes I had imagined we'd share.
He was the most handsome I had ever seen, with gold in his skin, complementing the pink in his lips when he leaned in to kiss me and the blue in his eyes.
His voice was like soft blankets and sometimes it squeaked when he was smiling at me.
I sat in his lap and we had kissing quotas.
He brought a typewriter over and made christmas cards with me.
I came home to a dark house one night and found a message on my answering machine. he had called me from a willie nelson concert and recorded his favorite song on my machine. I sat on the edge of the couch and listened to that scratchy bad recording over and over again.
he scared giant flocks of starlings from trees for me on late night in february.
But this seeing through me part became unsettling.
As if he could see how much I wanted our lives to fall into place together
It got to the point where just seeing his smooth swagger towards me quaked my insides, it made me stutter and blush, it made me coil with anxiety. It made my blood rush.
but I wanted to calmly stroke his hair and whisper in his ears when he slept.
and I never got over him, and maybe I never will, and maybe that was the only thing that was supposed to happen to me.
I can fill my days with anything I want.
Mostly more painting, god, it's tedious detailed work too. I wonder what they'll discover when I'm dead, what piles of tedium will they find in my living quarters?
Thought. Is it fair to hold grudges? I'm not a grudgy kind of person, and I tend to believe that everyone is constantly changing in little and big ways. But what if the characteristics that you don't like about someone are part of their personality? What if they will never outgrow or understand how their micromanaging or controlling or even just pushing their truth on others, makes people around them feel. It seems okay to let that person go from your life, no matter how close they are.
and... don't forget that not everyone likes everyone else, it's pointless to force it, even if you are related.
jeez, people in san diego are all about the shift in consciousness..
what does that even mean.
There was a man, one. who would look at me and I could swear he was looking right thru me,
looking square at my longing for the little things of his life to be mixed with mine.
looking at all the encounters and jokes I had imagined we'd share.
He was the most handsome I had ever seen, with gold in his skin, complementing the pink in his lips when he leaned in to kiss me and the blue in his eyes.
His voice was like soft blankets and sometimes it squeaked when he was smiling at me.
I sat in his lap and we had kissing quotas.
He brought a typewriter over and made christmas cards with me.
I came home to a dark house one night and found a message on my answering machine. he had called me from a willie nelson concert and recorded his favorite song on my machine. I sat on the edge of the couch and listened to that scratchy bad recording over and over again.
he scared giant flocks of starlings from trees for me on late night in february.
But this seeing through me part became unsettling.
As if he could see how much I wanted our lives to fall into place together
It got to the point where just seeing his smooth swagger towards me quaked my insides, it made me stutter and blush, it made me coil with anxiety. It made my blood rush.
but I wanted to calmly stroke his hair and whisper in his ears when he slept.
and I never got over him, and maybe I never will, and maybe that was the only thing that was supposed to happen to me.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
staycations, a list of my weekend ( the first good one I've had in a long time)
Today is game day. Even hermits are aware of this. A big game for the chargers. go chargers.or as fech says 'go sharjurs'
Let me start with yesterday. So everyday in san diego is the same, incessantly sunny. It just doesn't stop. but yesterday it was 71 degrees in january. I started out yesterday at the aquarium at 8am to tour with a huge girl scout group. I had my groupies who shared all their stories, observations and introduced me to the seadragons, the seadragons were easy going, seeing that I had been approved by their personal groupies. After about an hour, seadragons and me are tight.
Driving home I stopped in little Italy to hit the art supply store ( new sketchbook with pages for painting, expensive hot pressed watercolor paper, inks, rubber cement and a new brush) and meandered through the open market that was just closing. I found an awesome succulent vendor, john, with a bright red face and quiet motions, and lovely healthy fat succulents and cacti that he raises at home.
I got home and threw on some shorts and grabbed bike and book ( I adore quiet times with my old man Bukowski) and rode to the park near my house. The small dog party showed up and I was out of there. Rode as far as I could down Adams observing the scene (skate shop with a gang of 9-13 year olds tricking it up out front on the sidewalk, I walked by later and the oldest one said, 'hey guys watch out for the lady, please')
My brake cable ( I only have one) on my bike was starting to fray so I popped in to Adams bike shop to see how much it would cost to replace it and discuss maybe putting a rear brake on. My only opposition being I don't like new parts on my bike. So when I start telling the guys what I want they immediately go in the back to find some oldschool weinmann brake handles, and a motobecane caliper brake. sweet. and to my surprise they expected it to be done in a matter of hours. sweeter.
I leave stoked to get this job done, and wander up to the thrift store and one killer used book store ( found Studs Terkel,"Hard Times" $3)
After an hour and a half I get the call, bike is done. yowza!!! I'm so giddy to get back I nearly run. and there's my baby bike with new brakes and silvery cable and new housing. and I can't pay fast enough to get her out on the road. This bike shop never fails me.
I feel 12 years old, powering my white raleigh up the hill to home, the brakes work so good I don't even want to stop. I'm in love!! I noodle around all the alleyways, riding fast and swerving all over, until it is too cold to be out and I'm late for my dinner date. ( Cerise and Dale, who are also late)
So Sunday began in an amazing way. Biked to the farmers market, where I found john and his succulents and found some babies to come home with me, wandered the bustle of the booths, sampling the yummy and found Spenser Little, my favorite man, wire artist extraordinaire, pliering that wire into words and figures while he laughs and explains how to make his moveable sculptures work and wiggle. hah. I leave wondering if A. and I would have stayed together if we came to the farmers market more often. Maybe, if only we had... it's ongoing.
Rode up University to check out the local hardware store, price some items, see what kind of selection they had on parts I need for projects, got some ideas, raced home to jot them down,made lunch, worked on a painting, then back on the bike to read at Balboa park and catch the giant organ that plays @ 2pm. Bach blasts me out of my shoes it's so loud.
Everyone thought this was a great alternative to the game and joined me with kids and picnics and cameras and dogs in toe.
After sunning myself like a wild lizard I rode up to the market and bought some groceries.
And while I was riding I had this thought, that even though I would have never decidedly chosen san diego, if you dropped me anywhere, anywhere in the world I would gradually make it mine by exploring by bike and foot. The ability to do that made this weekend just golden. (And This american life is on at 6pm. What luck!)
Let me start with yesterday. So everyday in san diego is the same, incessantly sunny. It just doesn't stop. but yesterday it was 71 degrees in january. I started out yesterday at the aquarium at 8am to tour with a huge girl scout group. I had my groupies who shared all their stories, observations and introduced me to the seadragons, the seadragons were easy going, seeing that I had been approved by their personal groupies. After about an hour, seadragons and me are tight.
Driving home I stopped in little Italy to hit the art supply store ( new sketchbook with pages for painting, expensive hot pressed watercolor paper, inks, rubber cement and a new brush) and meandered through the open market that was just closing. I found an awesome succulent vendor, john, with a bright red face and quiet motions, and lovely healthy fat succulents and cacti that he raises at home.
I got home and threw on some shorts and grabbed bike and book ( I adore quiet times with my old man Bukowski) and rode to the park near my house. The small dog party showed up and I was out of there. Rode as far as I could down Adams observing the scene (skate shop with a gang of 9-13 year olds tricking it up out front on the sidewalk, I walked by later and the oldest one said, 'hey guys watch out for the lady, please')
My brake cable ( I only have one) on my bike was starting to fray so I popped in to Adams bike shop to see how much it would cost to replace it and discuss maybe putting a rear brake on. My only opposition being I don't like new parts on my bike. So when I start telling the guys what I want they immediately go in the back to find some oldschool weinmann brake handles, and a motobecane caliper brake. sweet. and to my surprise they expected it to be done in a matter of hours. sweeter.
I leave stoked to get this job done, and wander up to the thrift store and one killer used book store ( found Studs Terkel,"Hard Times" $3)
After an hour and a half I get the call, bike is done. yowza!!! I'm so giddy to get back I nearly run. and there's my baby bike with new brakes and silvery cable and new housing. and I can't pay fast enough to get her out on the road. This bike shop never fails me.
I feel 12 years old, powering my white raleigh up the hill to home, the brakes work so good I don't even want to stop. I'm in love!! I noodle around all the alleyways, riding fast and swerving all over, until it is too cold to be out and I'm late for my dinner date. ( Cerise and Dale, who are also late)
So Sunday began in an amazing way. Biked to the farmers market, where I found john and his succulents and found some babies to come home with me, wandered the bustle of the booths, sampling the yummy and found Spenser Little, my favorite man, wire artist extraordinaire, pliering that wire into words and figures while he laughs and explains how to make his moveable sculptures work and wiggle. hah. I leave wondering if A. and I would have stayed together if we came to the farmers market more often. Maybe, if only we had... it's ongoing.
Rode up University to check out the local hardware store, price some items, see what kind of selection they had on parts I need for projects, got some ideas, raced home to jot them down,made lunch, worked on a painting, then back on the bike to read at Balboa park and catch the giant organ that plays @ 2pm. Bach blasts me out of my shoes it's so loud.
Everyone thought this was a great alternative to the game and joined me with kids and picnics and cameras and dogs in toe.
After sunning myself like a wild lizard I rode up to the market and bought some groceries.
And while I was riding I had this thought, that even though I would have never decidedly chosen san diego, if you dropped me anywhere, anywhere in the world I would gradually make it mine by exploring by bike and foot. The ability to do that made this weekend just golden. (And This american life is on at 6pm. What luck!)
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
contraptions
I just finished a little painting. it feels amateur since I haven't painted in so long. i'm sure you can guess which half is mine. trite.
I'm having issues with blogging. I feel like everyone else, trying to document what I do with these digital contraptions that don't do the work justice. the scanner is too old and fuzzy, the camera distorts the light, ugh. It makes me want to just do away and glue all my pieces around town. I wouldn't make any money from them anyway.
renaissance masters never had to deal with digital images and resolution, not that I'm a master or anything. I'm just saying.
like why is the top part a different color then the bottom in this photo. I don't get it, and really I don't care. I'm just a schmuck who likes to escape my own head by distracting it with objects. correction, poor schmuck, who can't afford the decent equipment it takes to do this. Really if I made something astounding are people going to care about the digital reproductions , no they want the real thing. and real things are fleeting.
honestly, I hate the digital age.
I'm having issues with blogging. I feel like everyone else, trying to document what I do with these digital contraptions that don't do the work justice. the scanner is too old and fuzzy, the camera distorts the light, ugh. It makes me want to just do away and glue all my pieces around town. I wouldn't make any money from them anyway.
renaissance masters never had to deal with digital images and resolution, not that I'm a master or anything. I'm just saying.
like why is the top part a different color then the bottom in this photo. I don't get it, and really I don't care. I'm just a schmuck who likes to escape my own head by distracting it with objects. correction, poor schmuck, who can't afford the decent equipment it takes to do this. Really if I made something astounding are people going to care about the digital reproductions , no they want the real thing. and real things are fleeting.
honestly, I hate the digital age.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Spent the last 10 days in the valley. I took a ton of photo's and then magically digitally erased all of them accidentally. I tried to reshoot some of the best before I left. Here they are.
Winter time in the valley impresses me because there is always fruit to be found, which makes biking all day with curbside picnics a real treat.
What a busy 10 days, visited so many people the highlights were
1) going to the snow with aurore Jenn and aaron just outside Yosemite, wearing a dress and staying warm, finding fresh deer tracks.
2) Hmong New Year festival ( damn the photo's were nice)
3) Thrift store run with a car full of wonderful people
4) teaching my sister in law how to knit
5) Christmas party with non-stop game action
6) playing with my nephews
7) bundling up and riding my grandmothers old bike around town
8) dinner and a movie with Kristen and her mom
9) modeling for Anne, my favorite artist woman
10) Aurora dyeing my hair and watching High School Record and laughing with my favorite girlfriends. oh and sorting out old doilies with dearest Emily.
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