As it always seems to, my writting is the first thing to go when it comes to vacations. I start out with the best intentions, buy a journal, find a pen and generally start thinking in long poetic prose and flowery details. (I chalk it up to my deep rooted desire for the coveted job of travel writing and a gypsy heart)
I love the idea of writing and I love to write and everything would work out fine if I had the time or took the time to actually do it. And as I purchase or pack a journal for the exciting trip ahead, I always forget, in that choose-not-to-remember way, that I don't write as much as I thought I would.
So here we are again, a second trip to San Francisco and my second-ish day in California and I have yet to write since the plane ride. The Terribly long flight and prior to that terribly long layover were opportune moments to write. And I did for as long as I could stay conscious having only slept for about 4 hours total since Wednesday night/ Thurdsay morning.
Even now, as we take Bart to SF I keep vetting distracted and losing my thoughts in the green picturesque hills and scenery passing the window.
I have so much I want to say about our trip here and our day in Santa Cruz yesterday, turkey burgers, cake, starbucks, the boardwalk, the bead shop and the feeling of flying.
I keep telling myself it would be easier to do the writing if I had ventured out on my own and wasn't visiting anyone but that wouldn't be nearly as fun or interesting for me.
So I keep looking for moments to write a trying to remember all I needed to say for when the time comes but if I keep worrying about writing it all down, I'm going to miss it when it is happening.
So here's to adventure! May it always be so exciting as to stop me from writing and remind me to be a part of what's happening.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Friday, January 29, 2010
Job WANTED
I've got 25 years communication experience. I can be honest, I can tell you your butt doesn't look big, I can fib and beat around the bush as well as make a point. I can give advice, persuade, poke fun, speak when spoken to, and not when spoken to at all. I can even communicate without words because this body has an awful lot to say. Some of which may not be work appropriate.
I am also fluent in bullshit.
I can sew a button or duvet, or anything you need. I make coffee, or tea, cook, clean, organize, feed and water plants or animals or even you, if that is what you are in to.
I can build it, if you need it built. I can find it if you need it found. I can create, stuff fabricate, divine and in any other way come up with whatever it is you need. Maybe you don't know what you need. I can make the Earth so flat as a map and comb it over with a three tined comb until I reach the end, turn it upside down and start over again until I figure out what it is you require.
I guess what I mean to say is I can do whatever it is. I can solve it, wash it, stick it, drill it, cut it, bend it, break it, fix it.
I know a bit about astronomy and astrology. I can read your stars, explain your sign but I warn you, they haven't done a thing for me.
I can tell a joke, just one, and not very well but I can make up for it by listening to yours.
I can dance when moved to, I can sing and on occasion hit the right note but never if you are listening.
I can type faster than many and enjoy it more than most. I can fax, print, copy, sort, alphabetize, answer calls and be the best office tool you had and never realized you needed or how you could live without.
I don't need sick days, unless I'm sick. I'm great with people except when I'm not and I'm good at remembering except when I don't.
I can be firmer than necessary if it is actually necessary. I can pick a fight, stop a fight, pause a fight, win a fight and avoid a fight without breaking a sweat but I may crack a smile.
I'm a bit of a Renaissance man, or woman as the case is. I don't mind getting dirty and I clean up well. And if you are willing to part with that CHANCE you are holding on to, I'd be more than willing to take it.
I am also fluent in bullshit.
I can sew a button or duvet, or anything you need. I make coffee, or tea, cook, clean, organize, feed and water plants or animals or even you, if that is what you are in to.
I can build it, if you need it built. I can find it if you need it found. I can create, stuff fabricate, divine and in any other way come up with whatever it is you need. Maybe you don't know what you need. I can make the Earth so flat as a map and comb it over with a three tined comb until I reach the end, turn it upside down and start over again until I figure out what it is you require.
I guess what I mean to say is I can do whatever it is. I can solve it, wash it, stick it, drill it, cut it, bend it, break it, fix it.
I know a bit about astronomy and astrology. I can read your stars, explain your sign but I warn you, they haven't done a thing for me.
I can tell a joke, just one, and not very well but I can make up for it by listening to yours.
I can dance when moved to, I can sing and on occasion hit the right note but never if you are listening.
I can type faster than many and enjoy it more than most. I can fax, print, copy, sort, alphabetize, answer calls and be the best office tool you had and never realized you needed or how you could live without.
I don't need sick days, unless I'm sick. I'm great with people except when I'm not and I'm good at remembering except when I don't.
I can be firmer than necessary if it is actually necessary. I can pick a fight, stop a fight, pause a fight, win a fight and avoid a fight without breaking a sweat but I may crack a smile.
I'm a bit of a Renaissance man, or woman as the case is. I don't mind getting dirty and I clean up well. And if you are willing to part with that CHANCE you are holding on to, I'd be more than willing to take it.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Big-ol-Birthday
About a week before my birthday I had decided to bail on the whole thing. I would just skip it, like all the other days that I tend to skip. In all honesty it was a depression thing. K asked me what my plans were for the day of twenty-fiveage and I told her of my very good plans of skipping it. She then informed me that I couldn't do that. After a mopey conversation in the car, I agreed that I would let her and C surprise me but that they should include Mom in whatever they were doing.
There were a few snags in the plans they made so we bumped the birthday bashing up a day. K stayed the night and then in the morning we all got in the car and set out for surprises. I had Mom's scarf around my head so I couldn't see where we were going but that didn't stop me from knowing where I was. This would be good if I were after taken. K got mad at me when I asked her if she needed any money for tolls.
We made it to our surprise destination early enough to get good seats. So C, K, Mom and I saw The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. For Mom it was the first time. After the movie Mom told us she wasn't feeling well and needed to go home. So we brought her home and then K and I went to Chile's because it was nearly 5:00 and we hadn't eaten anything but popcorn.
After food we drove to C's to watch the Golden Globes. There was a bit of time before it began so K took drums, C took guitar and I took the chair. Turns out, if you need to hold a note on drums you have to keep hitting it.
The Globes went well, a couple Globes went to people we wanted and then everyone was surprised by Robert, even Robert. Well done all. Somewhere in the middle of the Golden Globes C and K gave me their birthday gift. (Doctor Who Series Four with Donna Noble. I love Donna.)
We couldn't stay because the snow was interested in screwing with any plans we may have thought we had. Due to messed directions that didn't take us by K's place and determined snow, we looked for places to stay the night. There weren't any. We made it to Newington and though that is only about 15 minutes from my house, we couldn't make it. It would have taken us about 30 to 45 minutes to get the rest of the way home. So we got to the Motel 6 and K got us a room. She closed her eyes, I took off my pants, it was an interesting night.
WARNING: The following may not be suitable for those with weak stomachs.
Sometime in the morning I got up, grabbed my pants, and went into the bathroom where I bent my body in ways I forgot I had ever done before, and from somewhere sacred inside of me came the leftovers of the day before. Once, twice, a dozen times, internal became external and I hugged the toilet like I hadn't done in years. Somewhere between ending up on the floor and K waking up, I had put on my pants. Concerned, as a good friend would be, she came knocking to see if I was alright. Which I was not, but at that moment was stable. In informed her of my pants and their current location and she then opened the door. I remember making some statement about my toes and the polish and then I took the trash with me to bed. After sleeping a bit more we got up and I went right back into the bathroom to throw up again. I was alright for a bit and we had to check out so we chose to be on our way home.
We were well stuck in the parking spot and it took a bit of back and forth to get out. Arriving at home was no different. The end of the driveway was not plowed and the rocking sent me over the edge. I got out of the car, got into the house and again, threw up. This time, mostly pissed off, the puking was accompanied by half-sobs. I didn't even get to have the alcohol that would normally go along with this whole ordeal. So, after the fourth time I had to run to the bathroom to throw up, I lost count. Nothing stayed down. K stayed for a while and then was off because she had work the next day and figured it would be best to try and let me sleep. I did get to listen to most of Escape from L.A. while she watched it. We have yet to speak about the movies in depth.
At about 3:00am, the day after my birthday, I went to the bathroom and heaved nothing. Several times. I went back to bed and from there it has been better. I haven't thrown up since.
Mom had made cupcakes and decorated the house with frogs and a “river” to resemble the Princess and the Frog. The cupcakes have little, and I say little even though they take up most of the cupcake top, frogmallows on them that are rather tough and not very tasty. They are cute though.
It was a birthday I will probably always remember. Everyone tried so hard but I did a bang up job of ruining it. I was a good idea to move it up a day I suppose or it would have been completely ruined. Many thanks to K, C, and Mom for trying so hard.
There were a few snags in the plans they made so we bumped the birthday bashing up a day. K stayed the night and then in the morning we all got in the car and set out for surprises. I had Mom's scarf around my head so I couldn't see where we were going but that didn't stop me from knowing where I was. This would be good if I were after taken. K got mad at me when I asked her if she needed any money for tolls.
We made it to our surprise destination early enough to get good seats. So C, K, Mom and I saw The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus. For Mom it was the first time. After the movie Mom told us she wasn't feeling well and needed to go home. So we brought her home and then K and I went to Chile's because it was nearly 5:00 and we hadn't eaten anything but popcorn.
After food we drove to C's to watch the Golden Globes. There was a bit of time before it began so K took drums, C took guitar and I took the chair. Turns out, if you need to hold a note on drums you have to keep hitting it.
The Globes went well, a couple Globes went to people we wanted and then everyone was surprised by Robert, even Robert. Well done all. Somewhere in the middle of the Golden Globes C and K gave me their birthday gift. (Doctor Who Series Four with Donna Noble. I love Donna.)
We couldn't stay because the snow was interested in screwing with any plans we may have thought we had. Due to messed directions that didn't take us by K's place and determined snow, we looked for places to stay the night. There weren't any. We made it to Newington and though that is only about 15 minutes from my house, we couldn't make it. It would have taken us about 30 to 45 minutes to get the rest of the way home. So we got to the Motel 6 and K got us a room. She closed her eyes, I took off my pants, it was an interesting night.
WARNING: The following may not be suitable for those with weak stomachs.
Sometime in the morning I got up, grabbed my pants, and went into the bathroom where I bent my body in ways I forgot I had ever done before, and from somewhere sacred inside of me came the leftovers of the day before. Once, twice, a dozen times, internal became external and I hugged the toilet like I hadn't done in years. Somewhere between ending up on the floor and K waking up, I had put on my pants. Concerned, as a good friend would be, she came knocking to see if I was alright. Which I was not, but at that moment was stable. In informed her of my pants and their current location and she then opened the door. I remember making some statement about my toes and the polish and then I took the trash with me to bed. After sleeping a bit more we got up and I went right back into the bathroom to throw up again. I was alright for a bit and we had to check out so we chose to be on our way home.
We were well stuck in the parking spot and it took a bit of back and forth to get out. Arriving at home was no different. The end of the driveway was not plowed and the rocking sent me over the edge. I got out of the car, got into the house and again, threw up. This time, mostly pissed off, the puking was accompanied by half-sobs. I didn't even get to have the alcohol that would normally go along with this whole ordeal. So, after the fourth time I had to run to the bathroom to throw up, I lost count. Nothing stayed down. K stayed for a while and then was off because she had work the next day and figured it would be best to try and let me sleep. I did get to listen to most of Escape from L.A. while she watched it. We have yet to speak about the movies in depth.
At about 3:00am, the day after my birthday, I went to the bathroom and heaved nothing. Several times. I went back to bed and from there it has been better. I haven't thrown up since.
Mom had made cupcakes and decorated the house with frogs and a “river” to resemble the Princess and the Frog. The cupcakes have little, and I say little even though they take up most of the cupcake top, frogmallows on them that are rather tough and not very tasty. They are cute though.
It was a birthday I will probably always remember. Everyone tried so hard but I did a bang up job of ruining it. I was a good idea to move it up a day I suppose or it would have been completely ruined. Many thanks to K, C, and Mom for trying so hard.
Monday, January 11, 2010
I'd start a revolution if I could get up in the morning.
a very good friend asked me, as a slip of the tongue, what my new years resolutions were. I've been thinking about that for a while. Not thinking about it in a life or death, or even cake or death sort of way, but more a back of the mind, that kind of itches but my arm is asleep, sort of way.
A revolution may just be what I've been needing. No, I am not planning to overthrow any governments. I tried to rule an island once in a high school experiment. the native islanders didn't like us and my people wanted Jock McMeathead to rule instead. So I am not the person to be mixing it up in the government.
I mean a different kind of revolution. The "drastic and far-reaching change in ways of thinking and behaving" kind of revolution. Perhaps that is why all those years before, the promises made every January 1st, were always broken by January 2nd. It wasn't drastic enough. It wasn't a change of behaving, it was a lame attempt at making myself feel better for not having accomplished anything I promised the year before.
I don't really believe in the whole resolution thing. I never really have. Pie crust promises, all of them. "Easily made and easily broken," says Mary Poppins. (I have never made a traditional pie crust, but the store bought ones are very easily made. Very much manufactured like most resolutions.)
I think it is nagging at me that I haven't made any promises to myself about what this year should be because I don't know what it should be. I do know that I am 25 in a few days, have a degree no one finds useful, even me, and a crap job that has given me 9 hours total next week.
I've started those questions. You know? The what if ones.
"If I live to be 50, I'll be middle aged this year. What does that say about my life?" One of my responses being, that I should have taken better care of myself if I only live to fifty. But then
I question the freak accident that kills me at fifty. The indoor luge and avocado incident.
All the planning is dealing in futures and If I learned anything from 2007 it was there is no future, only now. I have yet to take action and do anything about only having a now. We humans make plans, we think about the house we are saving for, the car we can't get until we hit the mid-life crisis, the vacations we will take when we retire. This is someone else's life. Someone else plotted this out and claimed it was the one thing we all wanted, imprinted us with it since childhood, and sent us on our way to strive for a life and lifestyle that we know won't make us happy. But that is what we are to do. Because that is the way it is done.
This is my revolution, the change I have been afraid to make: I am going to be happy in each day. I am no longer going to treat myself like the enemy. The plans I have put on hold will not be held any longer because of someone else. My life is not someone else's to live and it is time I take hold of it.
A revolution may just be what I've been needing. No, I am not planning to overthrow any governments. I tried to rule an island once in a high school experiment. the native islanders didn't like us and my people wanted Jock McMeathead to rule instead. So I am not the person to be mixing it up in the government.
I mean a different kind of revolution. The "drastic and far-reaching change in ways of thinking and behaving" kind of revolution. Perhaps that is why all those years before, the promises made every January 1st, were always broken by January 2nd. It wasn't drastic enough. It wasn't a change of behaving, it was a lame attempt at making myself feel better for not having accomplished anything I promised the year before.
I don't really believe in the whole resolution thing. I never really have. Pie crust promises, all of them. "Easily made and easily broken," says Mary Poppins. (I have never made a traditional pie crust, but the store bought ones are very easily made. Very much manufactured like most resolutions.)
I think it is nagging at me that I haven't made any promises to myself about what this year should be because I don't know what it should be. I do know that I am 25 in a few days, have a degree no one finds useful, even me, and a crap job that has given me 9 hours total next week.
I've started those questions. You know? The what if ones.
"If I live to be 50, I'll be middle aged this year. What does that say about my life?" One of my responses being, that I should have taken better care of myself if I only live to fifty. But then
I question the freak accident that kills me at fifty. The indoor luge and avocado incident.
All the planning is dealing in futures and If I learned anything from 2007 it was there is no future, only now. I have yet to take action and do anything about only having a now. We humans make plans, we think about the house we are saving for, the car we can't get until we hit the mid-life crisis, the vacations we will take when we retire. This is someone else's life. Someone else plotted this out and claimed it was the one thing we all wanted, imprinted us with it since childhood, and sent us on our way to strive for a life and lifestyle that we know won't make us happy. But that is what we are to do. Because that is the way it is done.
This is my revolution, the change I have been afraid to make: I am going to be happy in each day. I am no longer going to treat myself like the enemy. The plans I have put on hold will not be held any longer because of someone else. My life is not someone else's to live and it is time I take hold of it.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
The overdue praise of Mr. Universe
My landlord man is a guy named Dan. Dan's last name is one of planetary origin, and yes I know there is more to the universe than our solar system, but Mr. Universe sounds better than Mr. Planet. Too close to Captain Planet, and I don't really know how Dan feels about recycling.
I think the first thing to say is Dan is probably in his late 40s to 50s and has a girlfriend. Just FYI if you start plotting things.
I met Dan after having found a listing on (certain guy's name)list. He seemed really nice on the phone and didn't mind meeting with us even though we had credit issues and things weren't going so great all around.
After he forgot the key, we were lost and late, we got to meet. A tall man, about 6'2-6'4, a hairline that has inched back a bit since his 20s, cut rather close, and he has a strong handshake he isn't afraid to use with women.
Long story short, which is mostly detailed in other posts, we got the place.
Reasons why Mr. Universe is so cool:
1. He took a chance on us and gave us a break.
2. Paint -
a. He said he will buy or pay us back for the painting we do.
b. We can paint how we want
c. He brought us supplies, a step stool, and primer so we could paint and spackle.
3. He genuinely wants us to be happy here.
4. He didn't want to bring my door until he had cleaned it and scraped off the flaking bits.
5. He emails and texts me. I think the texting is majorly cool.
Perhaps I like Dan so much because Dan is a good man. Everyone knows a "good man is hard to find." I don't really believe that. Though it is entirely possible that "a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."
Whatever your favorite saying about men may be, if you ever run into this one, it is likely you would like him.
To Mr. Universe, much thanks. And he's so cool, I bet he recycles.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I think the first thing to say is Dan is probably in his late 40s to 50s and has a girlfriend. Just FYI if you start plotting things.
I met Dan after having found a listing on (certain guy's name)list. He seemed really nice on the phone and didn't mind meeting with us even though we had credit issues and things weren't going so great all around.
After he forgot the key, we were lost and late, we got to meet. A tall man, about 6'2-6'4, a hairline that has inched back a bit since his 20s, cut rather close, and he has a strong handshake he isn't afraid to use with women.
Long story short, which is mostly detailed in other posts, we got the place.
Reasons why Mr. Universe is so cool:
1. He took a chance on us and gave us a break.
2. Paint -
a. He said he will buy or pay us back for the painting we do.
b. We can paint how we want
c. He brought us supplies, a step stool, and primer so we could paint and spackle.
3. He genuinely wants us to be happy here.
4. He didn't want to bring my door until he had cleaned it and scraped off the flaking bits.
5. He emails and texts me. I think the texting is majorly cool.
Perhaps I like Dan so much because Dan is a good man. Everyone knows a "good man is hard to find." I don't really believe that. Though it is entirely possible that "a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."
Whatever your favorite saying about men may be, if you ever run into this one, it is likely you would like him.
To Mr. Universe, much thanks. And he's so cool, I bet he recycles.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Saturday, December 19, 2009
I'll be home for Christmas
34 Myrtle street. We got the place.
Yesterday I went to see my mom at the bank and run a few errands. Someone in Washington state bought some button earrings and I finally sent out my fingerprints and such to allow investigations into my character, background and other types of reports for a job. If I am trusted enough I get a job. If not, I'm not given a job. Let's hope I get a better paying job for the new year.
So I brought some jewelry stuff to the bank because they wanted to see it and was chatting up my mom when Dan came in.
Mom told me to turn around, look who was there. I was surprised and happy to see him. He did some banking and came to talk to us. He said he would like to rent to us. Meaning yes, we got it. The nook place. He wasn't checking that I worked at kohls, just taking my word for it because they have a silly phone service and I don't know any of the office numbers. He contacted my mom's references and they gave us good reviews. Five stars. So we officially get to start the move in and paper sign process on Sunday. Giving us about three days to get everything we want to keep out of the house.
I am excited and nervous because I have a few items I can't find that I want to bring with me. My major concern is my scrapbook with a bunch of photos I don't want to lose. I also have a scrapbook of Kerri's things someplace. And her curtains somewhere.
I know major items I'm taking like the bed and the couch and the two TVs. I will have to get my clothes together as well. That might be the more difficult thing. I have clothes all over the house and not all worth keeping. Again, I mention I am a packrat. I had begun the might purge last summer and had planned to continue it this coming one. So it is just going to be hurried along and I won't be able to dispose of things as I had hoped but I am forced to evaluate the bits and baubles I am clinging to. A fresh start for all. Mom is even getting a haircut on Sunday so she is starting fresh. This is good for us.
To packing.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Yesterday I went to see my mom at the bank and run a few errands. Someone in Washington state bought some button earrings and I finally sent out my fingerprints and such to allow investigations into my character, background and other types of reports for a job. If I am trusted enough I get a job. If not, I'm not given a job. Let's hope I get a better paying job for the new year.
So I brought some jewelry stuff to the bank because they wanted to see it and was chatting up my mom when Dan came in.
Mom told me to turn around, look who was there. I was surprised and happy to see him. He did some banking and came to talk to us. He said he would like to rent to us. Meaning yes, we got it. The nook place. He wasn't checking that I worked at kohls, just taking my word for it because they have a silly phone service and I don't know any of the office numbers. He contacted my mom's references and they gave us good reviews. Five stars. So we officially get to start the move in and paper sign process on Sunday. Giving us about three days to get everything we want to keep out of the house.
I am excited and nervous because I have a few items I can't find that I want to bring with me. My major concern is my scrapbook with a bunch of photos I don't want to lose. I also have a scrapbook of Kerri's things someplace. And her curtains somewhere.
I know major items I'm taking like the bed and the couch and the two TVs. I will have to get my clothes together as well. That might be the more difficult thing. I have clothes all over the house and not all worth keeping. Again, I mention I am a packrat. I had begun the might purge last summer and had planned to continue it this coming one. So it is just going to be hurried along and I won't be able to dispose of things as I had hoped but I am forced to evaluate the bits and baubles I am clinging to. A fresh start for all. Mom is even getting a haircut on Sunday so she is starting fresh. This is good for us.
To packing.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The difficulty of downsize
This is made all the more difficult by The Carpenter's version of "I'll be home for Christmas." It just came on.
It is no surprise to anyone who knows me that I have a hard time getting rid of things. I am a packrat. So looking at my room, I see various parts of my past and objects that may not have meaning but are tied to many memories. The problem I face is one of importance. In a few ways, actually. I must figure out what is still important and what will be important in the future. Which, is an important task for moving.
Is my hat collection important? It certainly seems a waste to get rid of them. What about my craft supplies? Will I use them all? Will I scrapbook again? Will I have space? What furniture do I keep? And why am I holding on so tightly to certain things?
I think one of my fears is forgetting something. I'm afraid of leaving things behind and someone else finding it and never knowing how hard it was for me to leave behind.
As mom and I only have a few days now to get out, we can only bring so much and can only pack the most important things.
How do I determine which books are most important if I can't take them all.
I'm concerned there are things I will forget while thinking about what is important and then remembering when it is too late.
So I'm taking a breather. I can't see clearly enough to determine what is most important. If worse comes to worse I need the most important things to fit in the car for a while.
Dan is checking our references now and we should hear back soon I think.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
It is no surprise to anyone who knows me that I have a hard time getting rid of things. I am a packrat. So looking at my room, I see various parts of my past and objects that may not have meaning but are tied to many memories. The problem I face is one of importance. In a few ways, actually. I must figure out what is still important and what will be important in the future. Which, is an important task for moving.
Is my hat collection important? It certainly seems a waste to get rid of them. What about my craft supplies? Will I use them all? Will I scrapbook again? Will I have space? What furniture do I keep? And why am I holding on so tightly to certain things?
I think one of my fears is forgetting something. I'm afraid of leaving things behind and someone else finding it and never knowing how hard it was for me to leave behind.
As mom and I only have a few days now to get out, we can only bring so much and can only pack the most important things.
How do I determine which books are most important if I can't take them all.
I'm concerned there are things I will forget while thinking about what is important and then remembering when it is too late.
So I'm taking a breather. I can't see clearly enough to determine what is most important. If worse comes to worse I need the most important things to fit in the car for a while.
Dan is checking our references now and we should hear back soon I think.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)