thems the brakes kid.

so the summer before i left for grad school i went up to Alaska to volunteer and be a camp counselor. pretty tame for 'going up to alaska'... i always did regret my choice not to gut fish or something for the summer. it just turned out to be one of those insanely memorable times anyway- like any time at camp i guess. just amplify that for 2+ months- we had a crazy/militant director, there were coolers of hash and booze hidden in the forest, we got eaten alive by mosquitos, the nearest civilization was literally called 'the north pole' where the wendy's there was always christmas, we had a rickety suburban, the counselors were all making love matches... one ended in marriage a year later, the wedding i went to, in colorado, and they're still together 6 years later. the other ended in an on-again/off-again romance. the next (cary)- her words "i am not going to spend the rest of my life with him. period." typical of my life i had no love match but picked up a younger brother named tim (above) and his match was annie (also above). the on/off agains. while most of the time was spent as prototypically as possible- contemplating my life alone- canoeing on the calm waters as an eagle soars overhead-alone, to watching a double rainbow to staring out of a broken tent- alone- getting eaten alive by mosquitos- alone. while not ruminating about my poetic self standing on the abyss of the future alone i was counseling tim. he was a hot-head and i loved him like a brother- i heard all about the difficulties of his fathers approval, his mother, their life in minnasota, how he wanted to be a musician, how his father wanted him to be a doctor, his love for annie, our shared hatred for the director- i helped him cook for a few weeks (since he was the chef), listened to his music- went on reckless outings with him and meng- if he hadn't been such a stoned latently hostile asian i suppose he wouldve been my match, but mainly he was getting stoned in various empty cabins... alas. alone.

this is one of my favorite pictures because it's so quintessential. it tells a story i think. and volumes, even if i didn't know them. perhaps a bit sentimental. i kept in touch with them for the first couple years- with at least 5 of the counselors i made friends with. and then it dwindled down to 2- the married couple in montana. the last i heard of cary was that her boyfriend was taking her on a hot-balloon ride over the mountains, and i lost touch with tim completely. but i always wondered about him, hoped he was doing well- wondered if he and annie decided to stay together. and then the years back in LA passed and i wondered about all of them very little- you know those treasured mental snapshots, played over and over- certain moments. if that. so then,

annie finds me on myspace. i generally can't stand myspace but must love and cherish it for reconnecting me with 2 long lost friends. one from college and the other from this camp. i asked if she kept in touch with anyone and behind that 'anyone' was a certain name. tim. and i was so so glad to hear from her. because she was a great fun girl.

turns out though, tim died. apparently he'd been in a horrible car accident, they'd broken up 8 months before and she'd had and refused a chance to see him- he recovered from the accident only to die after he was released- not from an overdose of the pain medication, as thought, but because of a heart defect he'd had since birth. undetected. he died 3 years ago, last month, alone in his apartment. and i sit shocked and realize how much i wondered about the future of friends i let go, or let me go, or we just got cut adrift, and you never think that their lives ceased as you go on thinking about them and imagining them. but his did. and there's no more wondering what happened to him or where he is or what he's doing. and then the platitudes about borrowed time, all of it, borrowed time.

and so thems the brakes kid. that's life. and here's to remembering him just as he was.

today's mishaps

1. Opened ginormous umbrella in rain/wind gusts, planning to use said monstrosity in shield fashion to protect mom and baby. Umbrella doesn't flip inside out (which I hate!), but instead, because it's so sturdy and big, yanks me several feet down the sidewalk. K.Lo laughs.

2. Screen door gets caught on stroller while leaving house. Push stroller forward, thinking door will simply swing shut behind us; instead, door smacks cleanly into forehead. May have bruise.

3. Cut into package received in mail using scissors. Noticed the blades weren't moving. Realized shirt was caught, and sure enough, there is now a hole.

guarnteed

okay- like, painting your room is hard. sure i thought you know, throw everything in the middle of the room and slap some paint on. but really no. it was more involved- like actually protecting stuff from getting paint on it. moderately successful. taking all the pictures down. the problem of painting the ceiling- trim for instance. agh! but you know it was a completely worthy task. so i recommend doing it anyway. i'm ruminating on what to do next. nothing most likely. and that's the way i want it! besides finding things to buy on the internet. i love the internet bcs i ordered my handsfree and my new sandals and both have arrived along with a belated birthday gift! so awesome. other things i want to buy: 4 more books, a gift certificate and perhaps, okay no- nevermind, i wont go craZy. afterall thee job hasn't started yet...

today i went to the chiro and then treated myself to a new clear deskmat for writing and gazing and it's beautiful- and in a sheer show of decadence, a new bottle of white out to replace the one from 1989. also- awesome.

here is what i've been doing for a week and a half (the blooming cactus flower is thrown in for free. the pic of my cats refused to load- why blogger why!?)








you've managed not to lose interest, bcs you know my room is endlessly fascinating- especially if you can read all the book titles... what should i do next: hang ferns, finish designing walkway, start apple blossom painting, or ask for short story ideas from you, the beloved blog reader... or get frozen strawberries so i can make dacquris tonight.

roads traveled: many

baby finally sleeping: one
sweet and sour chicken wings eaten: twelve?
blog entries not written: approximately four...and a half
truths stretched: hmmm...
dvr'd shows to catch up on: when it comes down to it, not enough
tropical storms approaching: one
yellow squash picked from garden: THREE
bills to catch up on: uncertain
loads of laundry to do: two and a half
rooms to vacuum: none! (thank you, J.Lo)
pretty flowers received: a bunch (thank you, thank you!)
currently reading: The Devil Wears Prada

I'm watching the Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency (which, by the way, airs Tuesday nights on Oxygen), and can I just say...Janice Dickinson. There's nothing really "likable" about her, is there? I mean, she's good TV, though not quite in the lovable way that Simon Cowell is good TV. I think The Surreal Life ruined her for me more than a little bit. Now every time I see her, I don't think, "caustic but wacky ANTM judge, pre-Twiggy days"; instead, I see her holding a knife over Omarosa's head, or getting all squirmy and accusatory with Balki, or (by far the worst), meeting in the bathoom with her "makeup team"--which apparently she very much needs. Every. Single. Day.

Anyway, mendacious, I thought of you because on last week's episode, which I'm now in the middle of, JD fires these triplets she had hired to be assistants--well, what she does instead of firing them is assign them a total downgrade project in the form of adding "myspace" contacts. Oho! The triplets would NOT have that, as they shouldn't--clearly they were no longer wanted for any task of substance. They get up to leave, and JD's response?

"Two words!" (She points to the door.) "Out!"
Then, realizing this is in fact only one word, she quickly says again, "Out!"
And then she sputters something about the big mistake the triplets just made, and blah blah blah.

Whatever, Janice Dickinson. I can't even wrap my head around you...which I suppose is what keeps me tuned in.

real post coming soon

in lieu of actual thought out words i will say that i went and had hotdogs for lunch. we bemoan the rising hotdog prices. italy just won over ghana? or something - a nursery is closing. gas prices are still high. i'm installing a shelf today and hanging curtains. the yard is a yard if there ever is one- the pathway is almost done. i ponder the word: sale- my visceral reaction is excitement tempered with a healthy skepticism.

Hola

We've been very bad. We sincerely apologize. My last attempted post was on Wednesday where I was starting to spiral into depression. Then I realized, besides feeling the universe's embrace that I must learn to be contented in all circumstances. I forget such things all the time in the face of one thing or another not being in alignment- but life is all about things going out of alignment all the time. I'll have a job, then i'll be unhappy about not being married. I don't pay rent but I can't stop complaining about my debt. That is the nature and beast: desire. Where is that delicate balance btw wanting things and going after them and engaging in the hapless quest to attain, strive- abase yourself with your own inadequcies, failed timelines, quelched possibilities, until dissatisfaction is all you see. Rumblings, disquiet- your mind won't quite shut up. Shh. I say. Shh. Shut the fuck up mind. And just live. Set yourself a path and go. But don't drag yourself down by degrees while you try to get there.

And after my plucky and absurd rebound- go team!- i got a call and am once again employed. (Shh.Quietmind!) I start the 20th. It's an editorial assistant position- aka 'logger'. Basically what I was doing a year ago when I worked on the 'Inferno'. And the gig lasts till the end of September. I hope to wash the vialness of that other job behind me. (ah dyslexia- vileness)... And live and breathe again.

So since I last left you:
Saturday/Sunday: Worked a Stila Make-up sale: while i'm not much of a girly girl i do love to put on a face. And may I say, getting things 75%+ off is like better than Christmas- plus all of the customers were HAPPY. Why? Bcs it's better than Christmas. These girls got a $30 thing of foundation for uh, $3. (!!!) Dude, I know. But it's true. I myself couldnot resist- while I made maybe $100 working the sale I spent $22 on a whole bag of stuff. It's hard not to be decadant when faced with such bargain prices.

Monday: Began clearing out my room to paint it.
Tuesday: Went to the beach but did not go to the beach. I call this a bait and switch. Don't do this to your beach loving friends when you live near the beach. It makes them very melancholy. Spent most of the day in a funk. Related and unrelated.
Wednesday: Made great painting strides.
Thursday: Almost completed painting striding.
Today: Must finish list of to do's: wash floor, felt chair, army chest, paint cork board, hang curtains, paint design on wall, hang pictures... perhaps after lunch... this morning my cat Marley caught one of the juvenille mockingbirds- he came bolting into the backyard with the bird frozen in its mouth. i went to save the bird and i think after it bolted into the garden it recovered, and hopefully won't die from infection. My cat was pissed so I gave him a can of tuna. He is now sleeping on my bed and understands that when I see him fulfilling his natural instincts I must do what I can to thwart them since I supply him with food. What's the phrase- 'Nature will out'...?

Things to ponder: haven't heard from the IRS. father's day gifts, stacks of papers, lost curtains, sewing projects, june gloom.

Things I owe you: picture of soon to be completed walkway and my now 'black orchid' room. tres manufique.
AuRevoir, MonAmis.

18 days later

I think my garden may be taking illegal, performance-enhancing drugs. It's sure to be kicked out of the league. Or else, the long-lost 3rd cousin twice removed of the Little Shop of Horrors plant has possessed the soul of my yellow squash and intends to very soon eat our house.

Remember the garden gnome post? That was 18 days ago. This is how the garden looked then:




















This is how it looks now:














Bye bye, Mr. Gnomey.
Specifically, here is the yellow squash plant:














Similarities, anyone?

















OMG, and the gnome's name is Seymour! I totally forgot!!

Mort

How many funerals have people actually been to, and are they more memorable than weddings. I always thought that compared to some people I hadn't been to any funerals at all- 2 actually (although a lot of people on my momside have died). And a few when I was young I refused to go to- the only impression I have is a very strong opposition to the entire affair- like either I didn't feel I needed it or maybe I was secretly unwilling for my last memory of them to be of that. I don't know- it was the memory of me, arms crossed, sunken in the seat and just immovable and as my mom remembers- not talking.

On my way there and all through the morning my mind was in a loop: I've been here before. I was here before 2 years ago for Sy's funeral. I was here before in this chapel 2 years ago on this exact weekend... I was compelled but tried to divert my impulse to say that to everyone I met at the funeral. Bcs what else is one to say- Hi. Other person: Hi. Me: Sucks doesn't it? Other: Yep. I managed to have a real conversation with only 2 people and it was comforting enough that I could find something intelligble to say to two friends I hope I know as long as I live. I extended myself to another person, having just glanced at the coffin, and sort of sighed, Hey, Dalton. (Which is actually the person who died.) And in the same breath I said, Hey, D.Paul. (Which was the guy I was actually hugging.) But it was strange because somehow I needed to say it. And it felt good and consequently a weird relief to be able to say goodbye in a single moment- even if it was accidental. Because before that it, as a friend said, seemed like we were in a play. Quietly filing in, setting up, unreal, as if at any moment the audience would applaud and this particular act would end, and the part of mourner, griever, friend of friend would end.

The other thing that ran through my head was that overwhelming sense that I was among my family. I mourn Dalton because they mourn him and I had that sense I was there to show my support for them if only in a periphery-sense. Because I'd only had 1 real conversation with Dalton- and that was when he thanked me for linking him to a surgeon. And his wife Tricia, the same- Hi, Tricia. Her: Hi... And that's all that's really needed.

And in an interlude: "When tragedy comes, it comes not in single spies but in battalions." And I see the horror of a truncated life, but perhaps his was but a brief and vibrant bloom:

Name: Dalton
Age: 38
Cause of death: Cancer (everywhere)
Wife aged: 30
Son aged: 1
What was said: love of God, sense of humor, honest, straight-shooter, love of wine, of things mid-century modern, of a life lived and not stilled...

And of course I had those ponderings about my own death which having been in a dark sense my entire I life I feel at most times- I'm reconciled to- if only in an abstract sense... and those odd petty concerns about the place you'd like to lay your broken vessel of a body- to take up space on the earth, or be fertilizer'd to the wind... to be flung into space, and how expensive are coffins?!. Perhaps for a tree to be planted above it, for the absense of astroturf to please me from above- for there to be a soundtrack over the silence of nothing left to say.

Sundries

hello and goodmorning.

chin hairs tweezed (5) (relentless)
dogs taken for car ride (2) (makes me smile)
hashbrowns eaten (2) (scandalous)
funerals to attend (1) (unfortunate)(oddly coincidental, having attended a funeral in the same weekend, at the same funeral place, in the same chapel- 2 years prior, which for LA and not a small town is strange. strangely possible.)
job interviewed for (1) (tingling)
drinking 1 diet coke (preserving insides)
knuckles cracked (3) (its not bad for you)
cats in my periphery (2) (-2) = 4
showers to take (1) (looking forward to one day having a bathtub i can stretch out in or one that has shower streams coming from all sorts of directions)
lawns being watered (2) (coolest thing ever, luxury, gentle facade)
gum needed (2 pieces)

currently: chewing gum
listening to: an ATT commerical
thinking about: developing film, ordering sandals, aching right hand.

bereft

Pronunciation: bi-'reft
Function: adjective
1 a : deprived or robbed of the possession or use of something -- usually used with of
b : lacking something needed, wanted, or expected -- used with of
2 title of memoir we read in grad school; don't remember much, except it was crap
3 what I feel in the summer when I think of TV

Our DVR is virtually empty, save for a long-ago unwatched episode of "The Apprentice" and several "Band of Brothers" that I can't even be in the same room for when Scott watches them (I'm sure they're "fantastic," just--ugh, way too intense for me). There are a measly few new shows still recorded every day, namely the MTV set: Real World, RW/RR Challenge (Fresh Meat being suprisingly, um, dare I say hilarious? this time around), The Hills, Laguna marathons, etc. But they're consumed in this house quicker than chocolate. Like lightning, man.

And I know, there's books, and Netflix. There's tomatoes growing outside, and a higher frequency of backyard bbq's. I'm so there, on all counts. But the blazing heat, the air conditioning bills, this tragic lack of good TV--I have to say, summer is my LEAST favorite season of the year. Don't even get me started on the issue of jeans vs. shorts.

Brief Reminder, though: "The Office" repeat marathon tonight on NBC. Good chance to catch up on lost eps (mendacious), or to hop on board (Kim). Wahoo!