Friday, September 30, 2005

Rabid Fan

So a certain tier2 to tier1 friend was asking me about how i view friends and she said I was one of the most loyal people she knows- which simultaneously freaked her out but was reassuring (basically that's how it went i think) but anyway, i am loyal to a fault. Enough about her (let's talk about me!) I've learned over the years to not be so possessive. People i gravitate to, I'm careful not to latch onto unless they reciprocrate to some level. I laughed over my lemon grass chicken, chopstick midair- bcs it's perfectly true- i'm an obsessed fan of my friends. I don't demand much from celebrities, authors of my favorite books, famous physicists... but from friends I demand accountability, confrontation, honesty and a whole host of other taxing, exasperating things. I don't know why anyone would want me to not consider them- to not demand anything of them- because then aren't you really nothing to me? Why would you want someone who loves you and never does anything to show it, or ever let's you know it? seriously?! I'm that dog at the door barking, heyheyheyhey. HEY! My mantra has developed into, Let it go. Just let it go. Let them go. And to varying degrees it helps. I don't know how I got so friend obsessed but it is as my friend described a sort of nesting instinct- to have all my friends in place makes my world secure, makes me feel at home whereever I go- So when I do demand, and i do melodramatically demand, that a friend pay attention to me, I realize it relates to me wanting my fall season shows to come back. I'm through with summer even if it only lasted a week or two. I wait expectantly for their stories to unfold, their quirks, their daily lives- it's high end voyeurism- i don't want to miss anything!

When at art school I thought about cataloging my friends for an art project- high concept people! seriously! Now, I was accused of both narcissicsm and being way too nosy... but really it would be like friend trading cards. Don't you find them as interesting as I do? Look, just look at them all, they're an inherent fascination!

Now with such a friend as I am- boundaries are critically important. And it works both ways naturally. But I do think that people let friends go way way too easily- I am acknowledging the opposition in my argument when I say, yes, sometimes it's better to break up with them or to consider them more like a cousin or a distant cousin, it's not to say I don't have those sorts of friends, relative friends, but it's just too easy to let people go when youdon't have a band on your finger, bcs you can say, who cares- i'll just get more friends, better friends...somewhere. I'll just stop calling or emailing them- but a better thing would be, just let them know where they stand, remove the guess work, and set up healthy guidelines- your friendship will last decades! I was going to say more on boundaries but my chiro just called me and i have an 11am appointment. YES.YES.YES. I have lost all focus. I'm f'in out-of-here.

Thursday, September 29, 2005


My neck is cramping and I woke up like one of those rigamortise-type mummies. argh! grr! having pain like this simultaneously makes me feel like a weak pansy and a hapless victim. i didn't deserve this and i'm weak for whining... this is crap. crapitycrapcrap i say. more later on being friend obsessed. I was going to say pen might be taking GG a little seriously but i sort of agree. there is a balance btw characters i totally dislike which is realistic and some pleasant tv watching. i ponder. plus wigs on male characters is LAME.

Sep 29
101°/63° 10%

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

I don't want to hate these characters

Generally, I'm just disappointed, because I've never hated characters on this show (Gilmore Girls) before, and in fact I've been in love with them all for the past several seasons--precisely the reason I continue to watch. Duh. It's obvious. Unless it's one of those shows where you're supposed to hate the characters, why you would watch the show?

First, I hate TJ. I've hated TJ since the beginning, so it's not like anything has changed this season, but he's fairly new enough, so I never counted him as a major mark against the show. Now he's just like the icing on the cake, the tabasco in a wound. I'm not opposed to the DeLuise style of acting, I'm opposed to his inability to ever "get it." Leave Luke and Lorelai to their romantic dinner in Luke's apartment, please. And for pete's sake, what in the world are you thinking in knocking a giant, unsightly hole in the Gilmore house? Mostly I was disappointed not about the damage he caused, but the fact that he would probably be around for awhile more. It's making me sort of hate Liz, too, just for bringing him around.

Lorelai. Usually I just get a little mad at Lorelai for being melodramatic, overly self-absorbed and childish, but now I'm beginning to hate her, too. And again, I don't want to hate anyone on this show, but it's there. Her and that stupid dog. And I love dogs. But just the fact that she's replacing Rory with an animal, and a high-maintenance animal at that, when it's obvious the reason she's so bad at taking care of animals is because she needs the attention for herself. Wow, that was mean. But she really doesn't even deserve the dog at this point.

And now Rory. This one is the worst of all, because I have never, ever hated Rory. Sometimes I might be a tiny bit impatient with her, and I don't always like her choice in guys, but I have never ever come close to disliking Rory for a single scene, much less hating her over the course of three or more episodes. I can't even like her haircut because I'm so irritated with her right now. She's not going to Yale, she's not talking to Lorelai. She's all "in" with Emily, working and spying at the DAR. She's completely mooching but acting like all of what she has and where she lives is "her cool new pad," when she could totally be going back to school, living with Paris, and trying to figure out what her major is. Like it even matters. She'll at least have a degree from Yale, which should make her at least a little bit marketable, no matter what she chooses. And is really so stupid to believe Mitchum Huntzberger, when he was clearly manipulating her because the family doesn't want her marrying Logan? Why can't that attempt at dream-dashing be used to motivate her to do better in whatever it is she wants to do.

I know that makes it sound too easy, and I know people go through things, and I know no story is a good one without conflict. But what I always loved about Gilmore Girls is that the conflicts were manageable and were never taken too far. The writers always managed to maintain an air of lightness that made the show so appealing and happy and fun to watch. I can't accept that air of lightness in the form of Rory being the superstar trash-picker-upper at her community service. That's just crossing the line.



So after the course of many discussions and an unintentional walk-a-thon, i've come to the conclusion that besides meditation I also need advil. (welcome back pen)

On sunday I had the best treadmill of my life. There were no obnoxious people, or ever-sweaters, I blazed a 2mile path at 3.6 for 35 minutes. My overpronated feet weren't complaining, my shins were quiet, there was no barking of anykind. And then my friend called and wanted to go to the Abbott/Kenny festival- which is basically a once a year outdoor shopping mall for trendy people. Although we did have some tasty funnel cake. This entailed biking 2 miles down there- which was E/W, so relatively flat- and then back of course, and then there was the circuit to Dagwoods, a place with killer philly cheesesteak subs and pizza, and back again through the trendy outdoor mall. We ran into Pacey from dawson's creek on the way there, and oddly, on the way back- At this time I was already noticing some signs of dissent from my legs, but I thought it was the usual post-ex complaint. So the festival over and having biked backed, having completed maybe 8 miles that day, and capping it off with 3 episodes of BTVS (season 7) I went home saying my legs hurt, and laughing as my friend Beth said her hips hurt- I said well imagine the complaints when were older, and she said, a hip replacement is about 10 years off. I laughed, although she was serious, and I told her I'd bring her flowers in the hospital. Who has hip replacements at 38? Sucks. Then, as the days passed to 2 and my legs were still throbbing I began to rule out lactic acid build up, pulled muscles, to out and out inflammation. I have petellar tendonitis (diagnosed from the internet) and a previously medically diagnosed-- chondromalacia. Basically the cartilage is super pissed off in my knees- and I knew when i dosed some advil and the pain stopped that was surely the cause. And as I sit here, still in pain 3 days later- I know that I have to back off the exercise and let the swelling stop before something ugly happens, and which i don't have the insurance to pay for.

I'm house sitting at Chez Brag and they do not have advil. I've managed to find 2 emergency packets of Ibprofin from 2 seperate people-- and come to realize that at Chez Brag they seem to be anti drug of anykind. Mom suggested that I buy some but I've now "accidentally" maxed 2 credit cards, one being from a morning breakfast stop and then the 2nd an automatic charge from 24fitness. Thanks guys. My bank took $30 to for an automatic withdrawl that I didn't even authorize. We'll see if I ever see that money again. Geesh. What the flipitman. I'm thinking of filching from petty cash. But all the mystery episodes I've ever watched, sitcoms to episodics to movies and features of the week- people always get caught for stealing from petty cash. I bet though they wouldn't mind if I stocked the office... doesn't it count as drugs though? The production manager said, no alcohol, no cigarettes- and that was the basis of the limitation... hard to discern where the boundaries are then when it's me, the post sup/PA, the editor and the uberdirector... what would constitute a mis-use of petty cash? i think i'm going to go for it. the editor just walked in and he said he could use some too.

In retrospect this blog wasn't exactly written as intended but my legs are throbbing. Next I"ll be blogging about being all my friends #1 fan... aka rabid, aka obsessed. Mmm. Something to look forward to. Now gimme my meds!!

Monday, September 26, 2005

A Very Bad Day, Seconding that Motion

To start little, when I arrived at work this morning--getting there a little early, much less on time, for once--all of my wall hangings were placed on my desk and everything else, like my coffee mug and my picture frames, were scattered. It turned out to be because they had to paint the wall this weekend, which is fine, but for a combative moment I was all ready with my black Sharpie, set to make some subtly sarcastic but blazingly clear DO NOT REMOVE signage.

Getting a little bigger, our air conditioner broke for the third time this weekend, effectively relegating the unit to the a/c graveyard. It has to be replaced. And yes, it's fall and getting cooler really soon in North Carolina, and yes, we could technically put it off, but the thing has to be replaced, and is there ever really a good time? Not only that, but all of the duct work underneath the house has to be replaced as well. This is a project we had just started to save up for, and would be done in good time--far enough in advance so that the baby wouldn't be crawling around, poking its fingers into the broken vents. I'm making our house sound like a real craphole, but I love it, and I don't regret being a homeowner so far. But seriously. Calling around this morning, S finds out that sure, we can go ahead and replace the air conditioning, but in order for it to run right and not crap out after 6 years like this one did, we really have to take care of the duct work, like, now. We're pretty sure it is original duct work, and the house was built in '68. Price tag: $5000. I'm not even going to bother reviewing our student loans, car loans, and mortgage values, because everyone has the same story, a lot much worse. But seriously? How are we supposed to pay for this. We have decided to use the CD I set up a few months ago from the housewarming gift my parents gave us. The CD is approximately the same value as the cost of the duct and a/c work, and was set up specifically so that we would have some money when I take time off to have the baby. The more this money was left untouched, the better shape we would be in, the longer I could take off, etc.

I now want to vomit, just thinking about it. I really, really do. It's all gone.

Also, pretty much most of the people I have talked to this morning are angry at me. Well, they're angry at the company. But still. Except for the email I got from my very good friend mendacious, chiding me for my extended absence in the blogging, emailing, and phone calling world. Hee. I'm teasing you, but I'm still upset about it. I suck lately, and I know it, and I will be better, I promise.

And just while we're in the cataloguing mood, let me just throw in a few other small annoyances that are contributing the cranky rainstorm. Because while I'm typically in a good mood, and lately in a very, very good mood because I no longer work for the horrible, ass-faced company Verizon Wireless, I am decidedly feeling a touch negative at the moment. My fake TiVo, or DVR, has since the hurricane been f-ing up. Maybe that's related to the duct work, too. Ha. Basically, it works fine and records everything I ask it to, but on random shows, the picture will play back fine but the sound is all RRRRRSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. For like the whole show. So it's essentially unwatchable. I missed the entire 2-hour season premiere of America's Next Top Model due to this problem. And granted, they are replaying the second hour on Wednesday, so I at least won't miss the photo shoot part, which is my favorite, but still. I also missed a couple of random episodes of Sex & the City on the WB, and I'm just waiting. What else will f-up? Survivor? Gilmore Girls? My most recent addiction, Nip/Tuck? Don't even mess with me, Time Warner. And the really entertaining part of the whole matter is that when I called customer service, I realized the company must subscribe the same pointless training philosophy as the vile, ass-faced corporation Verizon Wireless. Any time a customer called in with phone issues, we always said, "Have you updated your PRL software with *228?" Then tech would ask them the same question if they had to be transferred to tech. For Time Warder, the equivalent of *228 troubleshooting is apparently, "Have you tried resetting your system by unplugging it for 15 seconds?" Basically, the bottom line is that neither of these companies really knows what it's talking about. But they have a hell of an ad campaign! Suckers.

My baby's kicking, and the weather's nice. Halloween candy is on sale. We found a great painting for the living room this weekend at Art for the Masses.... Which, after the a/c duct work fiasco, we really can't afford.

Growl. But at least I blogged.

Saturday, September 24, 2005

A Very Bad Day

I need to meditate: I had no idea when i was younger that I was so good at meditating. Wandering my garden at night and sitting on a rusted out car was second nature- Food for thought from "Celebrating Spiritual Discipline": meditation is the one thing that can sufficiently redirect our lives so that we can deal with human life successfully-" So you see all the angsty mental working actually kept me from killing myself- it gave me a sense of perspective. Doesn't mean that I don't long to get the hell off this place ASAP. But I do acknowledge it's not up to me. I'm reminded of the scene in the Bible where Jesus is off to pray and he asks his 3 BFF's to sit up and pray with him and they kept falling asleep like jackasses and he's asking his father to take this cup from him and then he goes back and they're still sleeping. And it's pretty clear that there's no way humanity can pull it off- that's the depressing and i suppose relieving part of it, but I digress... there were other things, like chocolate and tree pruning but it was overrided by devastation and a bag of doritos and a hunk of cheese. Tonight I spent an hour trying to send a file to someone over the net and my wireless kept popping on and off and the chat kept telling me i'd tried to sign on too many times- so every few minutes I kept having to try again like sisyphus, but i kept imagining the rock was crushing me in my mind, and that wasn't really positive actualization, but anyway, I finally send the file and they write, T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-G-Y, and then, I said, "thank God I got it to you before it kicked me off again." Then they said, I better let you go before you sign off, again, and again, and again- and then i said, yah, god, i would talk but i keep getting disconnected."

Friday, September 23, 2005

from the archives...
from the archives...

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

I'm not buying a hybrid.

A little historical perspective is always useful. Apparently the French were the first to use an underground septic tank system, back in the 1870's. By the mid 1880's, two chamber, automatic siphoning septic tank systems, similar in concept to those used today, were being installed in the United States. Even now, a century plus later, septic tank systems represent a major household wastewater treatment option. Fully 1/4 to 1/3 of the homes in the US utilize such a system...The typical sources of waste water entering a septic system are toilets (approximately 38%), laundry (25%), showers/baths (22%) and sinks/other (15%).

Having been inspired by another blog I decided to write about my experience with septic tanks- which you'd think would be limited in this we call North of Hollywood. And yet no, my "special" house which I call an urban farm is the only house on the "block" to have a tank. My dad, over some misguided obstency refuses to pay to connect to the sewer- which i think would cost somewhere in the thousands. A lot of my life is skewed by my ultra-awareness of waste. Most urbanites who are quasi-conservation freaks don't really live it like they think they do. For instance they constantly buy bottled water- good job with the landfill guys, you think that bottle has a 1 or 2 on the bottom and if it does do you save it? I was (secretly) horrified by how little "plastic" items are actually recyclable and how at ease we can become with that magic cycle of numbers. Why not use a water filter and reuse one bottle over and over? And not only that but how tap water phobic people are as if they were living their very own Erin Brockovitch lives, but they don't want to think about what's let into their food products organic or not- isn't it about achieving a balance blah... okay tyraid over. blah.

I think how much recycling I did and the anxiety I harbored as a kid about the smog in the air and the decimation of the rainforests- and while I'm a quietly anxious person about most things nature, all over the world, I'm not a green-sleever and I'm not liberal, bcs I think it's essentially about personal responsibility and yet had I not been taught and drilled into submission over water waste I would never have been so aware. It comes with a cost - I used to have twinging guilt over crumpling up a piece of paper I'd drawn a line on- now I can do it without compunction, rationalizing that I can "afford it". Seek the balance. When I moved to Chicago I let the water run and run- that lake wasn't going to drain anytime soon- but that was only when I was in the shower.

Having returned to the drought-subjected semi-mediterranian climate let me break down the top 4 septic tank usages for you:

Shower: frequently make the toilet gurgle with my rampant water usage. Causes toilet to cease being able to flush, catergory 5 back up issues. This is the price I always pay. Showers must be timed with either late night usage or when people aren't around during the day. Times not to do it, before a party, before company comes over, while you still might be planning to use the toilet. That gurgly blurbs of the toilet, that gives me anxiety. So I can't let the water out until after I get out. Showers are not a daily occurance: it is partly because it dries out your skin unnecessarily and robs your body of essential oils, the other half is the shower anxiety. Who wants to deal with it? I don't. My mom jokes that I should go take a shower outside, except she isn't really joking bcs she knows then that it won't back up the septic tank- it worked when I was a kid but now I like the cold grey tiles.

Toilet: frequently stops working. Have instilled strict "if it's yellow let it mellow" "if it's brown flush it down"... my life in the meet the fockers movie title. Good times. It certainly has helped me be less uptight-- I never knew it would help mellow out the OCD in me but it has, bcs to live where I live you have to be okay with a certain amount of dirt, dog hair and the occassional sewage crisis- yes, my life on an urban farm. I have moderate embarassement when I invite people over bcs in my mind, it's like inviting people to the "sticks" or the backwoods or to that place with the toilet that backs up bcs her crazy parents have a septic tank, approve of their kid taking showers outside and generally are in desperate need of stock in swifter or pledge wipes.

Laundry: We embrace what's called "greywater"... which involves diverting the water hose from the back of the unit to a hose that leads outside and into the yard. I am most proud of this ecological venture. Water plants with body water- not so bad.

The fourth is the kitchen and bathroom sinks- my mom, when she hears me washing dishes, will not fail to mention, STOP RUNNING THE WATER... and when an unprecedented silence pervades she then says, SEE, I didn't say ANYTHING about the WATER this time... Right, sure you didn't. So she's the official dish washer, and don't even dream about it, i don't even know what a dishwasher is, besides the one named MOM. I now dry. The only other high point in the mad-scientist world of my mother, and life with the septic tank, is that you can place a bowl in the bathroom sink, wait till it fills up as you use it, and then flush the toilet with it. Now that's conservation.


Tuesday, September 20, 2005


Don't let me forget to write about them.

Sep 20 T-Showers
78°/60° 60%

to the death

The comfort of a shoe. Past their prime or keepsakes of love?

Sunday, September 18, 2005


Okay, so one of the adoring readership let slip that they knew the director was a germ-phob. ( I can't fault my readers when I play with fire)... I scrolled back and I've determined there's no salacious commentary and will continue to write about said director. I suppose I would continue even if there was bcs it's currently such a large part of my life that it would amputate something quite vital. I told the director that when we knew each other better I'd read him excerpts- that seemed to make him more nervous. It's not a bad thing, just something to ponder. It'll be interesting to see if he says, don't write about me. . . and maybe I'm secretly looking forward to that sort of conversation... so just now i decided to email him the one line about blood on the cement. I don't know why I'm obsessing about this. I'd say something about--- but then---

Other items:
-Had a bite of chocolate. a sip of green tea.
-Monitored pumpkins, looked for baby gourds... hey anyone want the gourd to say something particular? now's your chance to write in your vote.
-Head wound still tender.
-Lips constantly chapped throughout the day.
-Right foot cramped during treadmilling. Thought about levitating... light as a feather, stiff as a board. Thought not a biblical precedent, further thought, why would spirits bother levitating people for fun.
-I hate sighing in unision: example, when somebody says something interesting or moving, you go: awwww, or mmm, or ooo. is it the cynic in me? blood curdling, violent fist inducing response to a room full of awww, mmm, oooo. heartfelt seeming insincere gestures of sympathy and understanding. in unison. BAH! mmm. yes.

Tonight went to work, just expecting to help the director gear up for the shoot- so i was wearing baggy jammie type pants and a tank top. Then 30 minutes in, there comes the producer, then a few minutes later the entire band, their posse of 3, the talent, the costume designer and the prop guy. CRAP. I'm sitting there ready for bed, suddenly conscious of my barearms, my sagging pants... and wanting to just teleport anywhere but there... in all it was fine- i gave them water and brought out some snacks, but part of me was like and you didn't tell me because? It seems like it's something you might mention to someone in passing, like hey, by the way, all these people are coming over for wardrobe fitting and... but you know, whatever- I'll flow with it. Sure I have a mellow image and people construe me as "laid back" but really I'm fairly uptight and scheduled when it comes down to it. I can explain the juxtaposition in that my mom is a scattered, creative, secretly controlling earth mother which made me react against her by having an ordered non-chaotic environment. in addition to childhood trauma, i have german heritage... and of course I worked hard through the years with my body image- so I'm fairly too relaxed when it comes to what people see me in- sort of like i see life as a dress rehearsal and special occasions as exactly that- but every once and a while my moms earth mother indoctrination subverts and the OCD, and as a friend said, my "task oriented" self, emerge and I'm unnerved by my outfit, my lack of... my overwelming overpresence of... and generally wonder why surprises exist, why i'm not in control of every thing and how i can become in control of everything. You see I'm about balance. It's the best way is it not?

Back to the L&O CI rerun.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

Shirt or?

the horrible shirt experiment. note the 3 sections and the top seem. just ignore the hole and the uneven cuff. i was mad with power and i paid the price.
rose of the week
the great skirt experiment of '05

Wednesday, September 14, 2005


"No one disputes the principle of the arbitrary nature of the sign, but it is often easier to discover a truth than to assign to it its proper place." ~Saussure.

Today I couldn't stop sighing. I never woke up this morning. I got up, walked around but it didn't mean anything. Whatever the lack of food or the lack of water or sense made the day a total wash. I was bity and irritated. I'm still sort of comatose. I was going to tell you about saturday through tuesday but besides some quirky incidents like "running into" my director on the freeway an hour south or him finding out that i had a blog and wrote about him- nothing of note really happened. That and on the way to get something out of the car (sigh) I called him a bastard- and he said with a sort of smile, don't call me a bastard. Now in some people you might think they were joking but he was serious. The type of smile is hard to pin down. It's sort of dangerous, like inside he's seething and it hit some sort of trigger that if he didn't have that veneer of civility he might tear my face off. But perhaps I'm reading him wrong?

"The author has disappeared... God and man have died a common death." ~Foucault

It's true I have a potty mouth and if one were to complain about the degredation of culture and vernacular- words like bitch and bastard have become fairly normative, perhaps only in a corrupt set of linguists- not unlike how "suck" used to have much more seriously sexual implications then it does now. My mom used to hate it when I said, that sucks. A lot of a words' power derives from the delivery- emotional intent and cultural context- but to deny the certain objective power words have and not respect the cultural context and history of a word one is too obliviously "post-modern". So where does one draw the line? Cultural conditioning has made us abhor words like fuck and, okay, i won't offend your sensibilities by saying the C word- but even as the Vagina Monologues has taught us context and the empowerment of individual women can make the Cccc word sound a lot better, taking back the power anyone? For me, words like Jesus Christ, is and can be a catlyst for the sacred, and if I say it in anger or exasperation, it is indeed like dust in my mouth- but I still say oh my God! in the valliest of valley girl accents - Does that have anything to do with the word's pagan-germanic roots? Or perhaps to me it's more like saying, Gawd! And lately god can almost mean universe- something expansive and all encompassing. But I see the bind I'm in and I'm drawing a line.

However, when discussing a word we automatically agree on a context- it's the circular logic of people who don't believe in God but nevertheless continue to debate the existence of something they don't believe to exist- so the serpent bites his tail. You could probably play deconstructionism to anyone's benefit but to me it's primarily relief, because at the end of the day you have the life you have and it's got to be lived- not crammed into a contextual box ad nauseum- spending days arguing about the box we live in. It does give one pause though how certain words develop stigmas, go out of fashion or become cliched. Words were cliched long before Raymand Carver's character mourned the loss of a way to express grief in a non-cliched way. Ah, to be authentic. According to Wayne, in "Wayne's World" Kierkegaard said, "If you label me, you negate me." He acknowledges that words have power and the knowledge of those words, systems, Truth- is power- If you know it, you wield it. In "I, Pierre...: A case of parracide in the 19th century," Faulcault traces the development of the language of psychology. You would think that there was always a language, a pardigm in which to classify people but there wasn't, not in the modern sense. The case was curious because they could not classify the defendant- mad or very clever? In the case of Emily Rose- demon possessed or epileptic fit? And the power comes into play because once classified, once diagnosed they can be labeled away, processed, red tagged and forgotten about. We don't like quandaries- it causes shifty uncomfortableness, mainly because we might actually have to think for ourselves and have ourselves and others risk the wrong conclusion.

So, back to the bastard- at the end of the day once you've defined the exegesis you've got some boundaries to guide you and live your life by. You think to yourself, there is a word with a capital T called Truth and there is the objective and humanity- with its shifty smiles. Breathe a sigh of relief and just tell me a fucking story. In the end there was a girl, who watched too much tv, who wrote this while watching the simpsons, veronica mars and lost- eating a carrot, scratching her left arm, then ear, no wait- right shoulder, then left ear and who notices as she licks her lips how dry they are. She looks at two books- Critical Theory and Foucault and wishes she had a class to take that would compel her to read them again, she might just anyway- when summer comes again and the reruns start. As it is, the news started and there's a long-legged spider crawling up the wall.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

You think you see a Theme?

Currently I'm watching Charmed. I haven't seen this show steadily since poor Shannon Doherty expelled herself from the show- And given how silly the show is now, she should be very glad. I think this was the season finale. The sexy actor who played that egyptian guy in the mummy just got vanquished... mmm. Along the same lines I just watched the season finale of Veronica Mars and that's a tasty show too. It is a fair assumption that 1) I watch entirely too much tv. 2) That I really like it and am looking forward to the fall tv lineup and have them written in my calendar. 3) I'm embracing the 80's latch key kid stereotype.

But I do manage to leave the house for extended periods of time and not think about tv at all. For instance I met a friend I hadn't seen in a long time at the beach on friday. Down in Newport- good sand, good waves, locals vibe and yes, surfers. Of course due to my insulation I'm able to stand colder waters- so this late season foray into the Pacific didn't make me numb, although my shoulders were slightly chilled. The pacific is cruel, quite frankly, mainly because there are living things in it I can't see. I don't mean to bring up a movie but you know, Jaws and that movie Piranaha (from the 80's) did pretty much ruin me forever from the deepend of swimming pools and yes, the dark corriders of coastal waters. I'm not one to capitulate to phobias usually- for instance I have a fear of confined spaces, but I suck it up it in elevators and appear normal opposed to some freak who is figuring out how to use the escape hatch and how long my bottle of water will last. (which i am) I do have a breaking point. I acknowledge my weakness but I don't like to make choices that reinforce negative patterns- ie. stopping me from stuff I want to do- Like swimming in the Pacific. You know that's when a phobia is a phobia and you've gone too far. Nevertheless if not distracted and given a moments breath, the thought of being nailed by a shark and dragged to my death occurs to me. Cheery. I only picture the shark charging me. The mental images, thankfully go no further than that- and quite consciously I won't let them. My mental dialogue goes something like, "fucking get over it." and "if you're meant to die from a shark attack you're going to die from a shark attack."

"Fucking, get over it!"

But with every other dive the thought occurs to me again and I don't give into it again. It somewhat taints the experience but I feel successful for having not given into my irrational fears. As shark attacks are rare- given statistical evidence of how often people die from other things. I'd prefer to be raptured given a choice, (but that's sort of like praying for snow or an earthquake on test day- 6th grade) then perhaps old age, but an exotic- non painful death wouldn't be bad either. Shark attacks, fires... not up there on the list. But I digress. I managed to have fun, somersault in the waves, hit my head on the sand mid revolution (watch the gash!) and contemplate how beautiful the sky's reflection is on the surface of the water. How can the ocean not be blue? It reminds me of when I was in Alaska having an idyllic moment- bald eagle soaring overhead, calm gentle waves laping the shore of the lake- which was crystal clear. Ribbons of grass ungulating in the depths. And the sun perpetually setting in beautiful streaks of pink purple and orange. All I could think of as I floated in this majestic place was what if some sort of lake monster sucked me under, not unlike "the blob" or something from "Tales from the Crypt"... and as I struggled toward the shore, just as I reached it- panting for breath, I was dragged to my death.

You'd think there was a theme- every place I'm in I can relate to the context of fear in horror movies, suspense thrillers, action adventure movies like the "Towering Inferno" tap into- And yet I consider myself a person who doesn't live in fear. Perhaps it's because I rationalize a lot of it or ponder how many people really explore the root of their fears and I think in doing that I gain precious perspective... I also, seeing the theme- wonder if it was Tv that did this to me- sort of emphasizing and pumping in fear like a drug and part of that is true. Although the confined spaces I will patently blame on 1) being cramped in the womb and 2) being the underpinning of one too many dog piles as a kid. Ignorance is bliss and sometimes knowledge is too powerful to have at your fingertips all the time- just look at the problems that occur being able to distinguish btw good and evil- let alone just having the knowledge of evil. Think how strong the observant person has to be, to know what we know and not want to kill ourselves. I don't mean to be dark but realistically being controlled by fear puts you in a very very dark place- and having no balance to that, that transcends the horror of life, can give you a skewed perspective bcs if you don't- you might end up in the heart of darkness, whispering "the horror, the horror". Joseph Conrad got that and he didn't have Tv, (even if I saw Apocalypse Now and can only picture Marlon Brando saying, "exterminate them all"). Because despite the fear of sharks and riptides I go in the water anyway and I have an awesome time. Despite the idea of plummeting to death I get on the roller coaster anyway- you don't want the devil to win do you?

You've gotta live.

So after Newport we went to Mimi's Cafe and just to illlustrate what I'm talking about we were sitting in a section entirely about New Orleans- all I could think about was Mardi Gras and the aftermath of the hurricane. How is that for juxtaposition of the human experience. The clam chowder was good but the crabcakes were just okay.

On the way home I fit in a workout bcs I gotta make this membership worth it- All I had I was my skirt and my gym shoes. I had already found a parking space, walked half a block through a parking garage, gone up 4 flights in the elevator and was in the bowels of the gym. How could I let my skirt wearing, lack of short wearing self be defeated- improvise. The tanktop I had that day, besides the shirt I was wearing, was most like the workout shorts I normally wear. Too be candid, which belies my name, I must confess I have a chaffing problem. And I always have. Girls with thighs will always have this problem. Oprah has this problem. I don't get it. It seems to be a horribly cruel joke and that's why the invention of spadex shorts was a godsend. Originally I had no intention of telling you this but i jimmied my tanktop into shorts by doing some very clever wrapping, chaffing crisis averted, and simply decided that I was going to feel like an idiot wearing a skirt on a treadmill- but at least I wasn't as bad as a) the makeup wearing ladies- hell on the pores people! don't do it. b) the girls who keep checking out their asses in mirror c) the women who wear heavy jewerly and tight fitting designer outfits- the sweat alone on all that jewelry would deter me, wouldn't it you? But I was always the sort of girl who had that odd look on their face and a slight qurik to their step- for whatever reason- whether because of the jimmied shorts or the thought of an oncoming train, and laughing because of both.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

good eve

I've watched Tv all day, but that's because I've been sewing. It didnt occur to me at the time to turn on the radio or have someone read a book aloud but- I did take a break to go see a movie. Which was... yes! Wedding Crashers- a raunchy comedy w/heart. And I got to see it for $2. Two Dollars. My god. A beautiful thing. Check out and find which location is nearest to you and go now. Sure the seats and screens are smaller- but it has a certain charm to it. there's no 20 minutes of commercials and none of that bright saftey light stuff on the walls. You're in, you're out- and all for $2! I can't get over it. I think it made my week. The tyranny of the $10.50 movie is over! At least for now. Then I came home and finished my 2 sewing projects. Realized I'd run out of fabric and now the shirt is just too small to be anything but an under shirt, unless I become one of those ever-sweaters at 24fitness- I can't burn it bcs I spent the day on it, so lets hope I slim down. . . the other project which I thought about burning is just good enough to wear... Maybe it'll be my new fall outfit. Sure it's spring colors but it'll just pass for another month or so before I have to start wearing black,red, and grey... I realize I've got 2 other bags of projects but maybe I can burn through them- one horrible stitch line at a time.

Coming up- wearing my tanktop as shorts. My gashed head. and a time at the beach- sharks be damned.

Thursday, September 8, 2005

current mood:

(but with less arrrgh and more grrr)

Wednesday, September 7, 2005

My current mood. Muhahaha

More from R.U.

-2 pumpkins are left and trying to survive to full-maturity.
-1 gourd is growing and I've already etched on it. (see my post from May 23rd, when the blog was much more interesting)
-Hands are dry from saw-dust.
-In my future- playing with the NEW sewing machine. YES! I need to stop blogging and go do that NOW! Maybe, if inspired I'll post my creations. Off I go.

no traces

Well I survived Chez Brag. And it was a good time. I arrived home as if I had never been gone. I thought, why are the dogs acting so weird. However, I didn't escape bodily injury while on vacation. I was jet skiing and then I hit my head on the tip of... in actuality on the way out, my damn trunk-hatch, didn't open all the way, or fell slightly, and yes, like a dumbass I ran right into the tip of it and gave myself an inch! gash on the top of my head, drew blood and now can credit myself with a minor concussion. (Throughout the day it just would start to pulse.) Now those are high times! And as I saw the blood seeping into my blonde-d hair I thought, I wonder how long i can wait to dye it with a head wound. Plus I'm seeing more grey in the roots. Not a lot-but they are there. And then I felt sorry for all the head injuried people of the world- it's such a sensitive spot. Luckily I didn't black out and do myself some real damage. Plus Brag wouldn't approve of blood on the cement. He's a bit of a germ-phob. In related news, I left a plate in the sink and put water in it and when I put a glass in the same sink I saw that a roach had met its demise there. Should I tell them? Then all I could think about was how many roaches over night had been there and as I narrowed my eyes, and glanced left to right, I wondered how much tracking did it do all over the allegedly clean greenish tiles-Recently I watched something on the Discovery Channel about how clean is clean and you'd be surprised how dirty "clean" houses can be. Made me not feel so bad about my dingy abode and I symphatized because until we shoved some boric acid down some cracks we'd get some big creepies at night. As if that was all I could endure, to encounter a giant legged thing- which were sometimes sluggish enough to kill. I swoon. I bait my breath.

Besides that I'll admit my life can't be all that boring if subconsciously I'm willing to run into things for a story. Now that's commitment.

Sunday, September 4, 2005

The strange circumstance.

I'm at hotel Brag's house. (the director). Originally I was distracted into aquiesing- I was playing volleyball with some fellow picnicers and was called over by a friend who had brag on the phone. He was mumbling something about dog care and if I could take their dog home and then it just spilled into, why can't you just stay there. Well I don't know why not. Um. The game. What? And yah, okay. Back to the game. By the end of the day, I told someone, I think I just agreed to house sit... and then the logistical turnings in my head kept pointing to the awesome shower they have in their house- well better than my cramped tub with the unfinished walls. And there was the air conditioning. Mmm. This little job was looking better and better. I thought, am I getting paid for this? Then I thought, no not really. Because technically this might be a friend favor, although unestablished. Then I thought, was I a last resort? Yes. Seeing as how they were on the road or packing and thought to ask me via someone else and not even me. So, eh. Whose idea was this? Here I am. And that's fine. I decided this will be a nice 2 day vaykay. What with the air conditioning and the awesome shower. There is the question of whether or not to sleep on the bed or the couch. I don't want to seem weird by turning down the bed, but then again it's weird to sleep in their bed. You see how the conversation is spiraling. It's early too and my eyes are getting awfully heavy. Initially I thought I'd have some hotel tv time but found they were tivo-ing the actors studio on bravo. great. crap. oh well, isn't one suppose to read on vacation anyway. My back up, the Brothers Karamazov. And the chihuahua, on the pillow next to my head. The dog, once I carried it outside, determined I couldn't be all that bad and is now curled up and staring at me bug-eyed with it's ears up. Perhaps a little less demanding than a cat but much more unnerving. It's hard not to laugh when I think about it getting eaten by a giant snake, but I don't want to be unkind. The question is, how to be here and simulateously appear to never have been here at all.

Saturday, September 3, 2005

it's like heart-break

whenever I go to the theatre there is a dull resounding ache. i don't think i've ever missed something so much; not even my home gives me this longing. i can't explain my love for this all consuming place or how to find my way back there. it's quite a maddening conundrum. really. i'm afraid it's something I'll never get to- how do i write or show the story of my life and explain my love for the black box without sounding like a jackass, and how do i invest myself in other things and not die of heartbreak.


the record of the day:

wake-up, wonder why i don't want to wake up but can't sleep in either.
play with dogs.
the day is going great.
think about making it to wedding crashers.
watch tv.
feel light-headed.
try to read.
watch tv.
think about sleeping.
look at clock.
wonder what time i have to leave to go work out and go to a play. know in the back of my mind exactly what time. think harder about actually finding the will to move.
watch tv.
think about sleep.
apply lip balm.
wonder what was in those pills i took.
think about a cold shower.

Friday, September 2, 2005

a word on the news...

"FEMA chief: Victims bear some responsibility"
"Asked later on CNN how he could blame the victims, many of whom could not flee the storm because they had no transportation or were too frail to evacuate on their own, Brown said he was not blaming anyone." "Now is not the time to be blaming," Brown said. "Now is the time to recognize that whether they chose to evacuate or chose not to evacuate, we have to help them."

We all have choices. Why not blame them? Why not ask the neighbors of the people who were too frail, why didn't you give them a ride? I would blame them. I thought no one walks in LA? But you know what, if it came to evacuating, you'd better be sure I'd have my sneakers on, supplies and I'd get the fuck out of dodge. I would walk as long as my strength would carry me. What is wrong with people?! The people that this country has raised that have no sense of personal responsibility and that there is no consequence with choice. You stayed, you lived, suffer the consequences. That doesn't mean we don't help them- but nor should the FEMA guy be getting yelled at ad hominem bcs people are afraid of offending people, or that we would construe him as heartless. As a country we've let people just sit on their rooftops (i'm talking healthy average joes) yelling, help me, help me and there is a woman with an inflatable bed and a board for a paddle going past them... There's a proverb about this, better written but it applies. This stuff is making my eye twitch. Why is everyone acting so helpless. We should be raising leaders, not victims- Should we be waiting for the government to save us, or should we be asking someone to help us find a job?! And those of us who aren't in crisis, what are we doing? When are we going to stop watching the Tv and make a choice, in life, in our circumstances, our jobs, our friends, helping our fellow human beings even. I'm tired of the people who are sitting around waiting for someone to choose for them- you have a mind, use it.

Thursday, September 1, 2005

Circus Circus


I've told you how I've always wanted to run away with the circus right? The circus being the movie industry. Even as I say it , it sounds lame. Forget I said it. There was something profound I was going to say and it was tied to this memory in Chicago, but frankly I'd rather watch Sahara and paint my nails than blog about anything remotely meaningful. And before that I was listening to the news about the levees breaking and all I could think of was that led zeppelin's a really good song. No, I don't blame you for not wanting to read the blog anymore. Like I said, I'm in a fog. blog, fog. hee.


So, (which is my favorite word to begin conversational pieces, which is more of a pause than an actual transitional somethingorother), lately I've been feeling that I've been walking around in a fog. I'm fairly confident of my direction in the dense cool oppression- I have plenty of amusements, my laptop, plenty of food, a place to sleep-but time is so strange here. And the more I stay here wading through this white fluffnstuff the more I keep losing myself- like parts of me are perhaps evaporating- Yes, let me keep pushing the damn analogy. SO, I'm in the fog and as I walk little pieces are leaving me. I feel unsettled and bewildered at my lack of sight and the quiet. Maybe this is the way it's suppose to be. I hope there isn't anyone in the wings weilding a knife, or a dangerous animal prowling behind a grave- bcs inevitably either I am sherlock holmes or a girl about to be picked off- my second thought was that i was buffy the vampire slayer but i don't feel so slayer-ish... which is why SH is a better analogy if one is to be trapped in a dense non-poisonous fog of indeterminate time. One should rather be an adventurous analytical detective. I can't wait to see how this plays out.

Most used word of the day: fantastic, not unlike the british equivilant of "brilliant"