Catch, Neuter & Release

A Spartan Thanks

2011-11-20T11:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I ran The Spartan Sprint. This is not the place to go into what it is, or why I ran it. No, this is a letter to a single woman whom I encountered.

Dear Spartan,
You may not remember me. I am quite sure that I did not factor into your race the way you factored into mine. I was the woman sitting crumpled in the mud at the foot of the last obstacle, crying quietly. You asked if I was ok. I lamely replied, "I'm just tired." It was an excuse befitting a 3-year old child, and I apologize for it. I was not entirely in a clear-thinking place. Had I had more wits about me, I would have said this:

"I'm so goddamn tired... tired of not showing up to my life. Tired of having lofty dreams and goals that I'm too lazy or terrified to pursue with the vigor they need. I'm tired of failing. I did not train for this the way I should have, and yet through some grit and determination, I've made it this far...to the last obstacle. But I'm not sure I can climb this wall. And I'll be dammned if I'll quit within site of that finish line. Each time I rally the physical strength to attempt it, and fail, sliding back down to this muddied grass, I waste precious energy. And I'm not sure where that energy is coming from, or just how much more I have. I'm overwhelmed by the frustration, ashamed that I'm sitting here, and just before you arrived I took a particularly spectacular face and chest plant on the wood that knocked the wind out of me, so I'm in a fair amount of physical pain as well. But all that is nothing compared to the screaming voice in my head that is telling me over and over that I shouldn't have even tried becuase I ALWAYS FAIL. That voice is so loud that I fear you can hear it, even over this cheering crowd."

So thank you Spartan, for being one person out of hundreds who stopped to ask if I was ok. Thank you for taking time out of your experience to check on me. Please excuse me that moment of human fear & frailty. Know that after you left, I took a breath, regrouped and climbed that wall a 3rd and final time, and finished my first Spartan race. I hope your race was an amazing experience. I hope you had fun, but also that you found within yourself a place of power, of strength. I hope you surprised yourself with all you could achieve. I know I did.

Trying to capture the new, in just a few words

2011-02-28T15:11:00.000-08:00

Hello all. Don't know if anyone still reads this. Don't know that many people who did to begin with. For a while, I had a stride, writing well and often. But life has a way of changing and this blog no longer fits me.

I haven't worked with a feral cat community in quite some time, and I've been dating the same guy for... eek.. 5 years this May, so the "Catch Neuter & Release" moniker isn't really appropriate anymore.

I don't sit at a computer, so my writing time is limited but now special to me. I left the entertainment industry and dreams of becoming a star (or at least a working actress) far behind. Now, after several years in school and internships, I'm considered part of the animal welfare industry (I know... shocker for a cat lady such as me.) I'm different. I'm quieter. Some times I'm heart broken and resigned that I left the life long dream behind me. Other times, I'm still and smiling, believing that this new path I've chosen in is fact my soul's true work, and while I don't have a clear direction in front of me, my internal compass has me moving forward in the right way.

I'd like to start journaling again, start blogging. Putting thought and belief out there to the Universe. I've had that feeling for months. But I'm always stopped when I try to contemplate a new title. Something catchy perhaps, easy to remember (or at least, easy to google). Something fun, which in a few words, captures who I am, who I am becoming, and what I face on the path.

defining oneself is never easy work.

Brief Reflection

2010-08-31T01:18:00.001-07:00

The 5 year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina has just passed, and that made me want to reflect on my thoughts and blogs from that incredibly painful time.

However, I was delighted to find that in addition to those introspective moments of pain and suffering and hope for a brighter future... I also had a lot of funny, entertaining tidbits of life that I quipped upon. I had a fiery and brief love affair that was documented as it grew, and I was actually enjoying my day job (which later became insufferable.)

If you've got a few moments, perhaps you too would enjoy trolling around in my 2005 posts. The link to the archives is just over there to the right (no.. not there... down a little bit. Yep, there.)

Enjoy.

Long Time, No Hear

2010-05-29T21:11:00.000-07:00

Back again, returning to the blog after losing the last 22 months of my life to the Exotic Animal Training and Management program. Ok... I didn't "lose" my life. I gained unbelievable experiences and knowledge. But now, here, on the other side of graduation, I feel lost. For 22 months, I knew where I had to be when. I knew generally what each day would look like. And now...

*sigh*

It's Saturday night, and I'm sitting in a Coffee Bean using their free wi-fi because we lost connection at the house. On facebook, classmates talk about how they went out last night, or are going out tonight... or about how their new jobs are amazing, or about how their lives are amazing. I understand that some of them are making it sound more glorious than it is. I understand that many of them are younger than me, and therefore what they find "AMAZING" would not likely occur the same for me. Still, it makes me feel small and a teensy bit pathetic.

I'm trying to take on challenges in my life. I'm running headlong into old patterns of behavior and trying to turn over a new leaf. Take the opportunity that disappearing for 22 months has provided me to cut old ties and bad baggage and try to begin again with a clear road. It's not easy. It's not fun. Change, improvement, rarely is. I'm trying to keep the things that worked for me. Like writing in journals and blogs. Like thinking out loud. And so, I find myself here. Dropping a few words onto the cyber page, akin to dipping a toe in the pool, the first day it opens in the spring. It's daunting. But sitting here immobilized with fear and sadness is infinitely worse.

A few quick notes: (1) Just saw "Sex & the City 2" Wow... I wasn't expecting much but high-fashion and a brief glimpse of Aiden. However, I have to say that I feel the brand has lost the thing for which I most enjoyed it. It used to be a call to arms for single women to feel fun, empowered, and less alone. But now, it's a backslide for women with self-esteem that seems to cry out "It's not ok to grow old," "It's not ok to feel frazzled when you've spread yourself too thin" and worst "If you feel uncertain in your relationship... be sure he gets you a nice piece of jewelry." I used to feel that I could relate to the SitC ladies, but now, if I were an American travelling in the Middle East and I saw them out, I would embarrassedly apologize to those around me that not every American woman is that rude or that desperately in need of attention and validation. Ugh. (2) I've managed to spill HONEY (of all things) on my keyboard, causing my "z" key to stick. ARGH! I'd do much better if I found a cyber cafe that served alcoholic drinks instead of coffees, teas and overly sticky cinnamon buns.

Why I love the Internet

2009-01-25T18:18:00.000-08:00

There is so much drama, so much strife perceived in every day life. Each day an economic struggle. Every argument an insurmountable disagreement after which nothing will ever be the same. And like a whirlpool, all this flows over my head with overwhelming force, and I struggle and drown and get sucked down into the very heart of the maelstrom.

Winston Churchill spoke of his depression as a large black dog that haunted him, growling and stalking and keeping those he loved at bay. If Mr. Churchill was right, and my maelstrom image fits too, then it might be best to say that for the last week or so, I find myself at the bottom of a roaring ocean, flailing and drowning, with only a large black dog to hold on to... and he bites.

Then a Sunday afternoon comes along which has some spare time and a bright sun peeping past the clouds. The blue sky seems unreal in its electric vivacious coloring, and it glistens behind the Griffith Observatory in a shot any cinematographer would glory to claim for his own. I see all this, but only in passing, temporarily blinded by all the ocean water and dog hair in my eyes. I return to my apartment and do some homework, and access the web, to check accounts, and perhaps peek at a few blogs (a pastime I rarely get to indulge anymore.) And a without realizing it, a life preserver falls neatly draped around my shoulders as I read the words of my tribe.

It doesn't take much to find people who mourn their losses, who sink into despairs. You can find someone bitching in front of you in line at the grocery store.... but until the vast Internet and blogs became a part of my life, I often believed myself alone in trying to persevere. But you... wonderful people you... so many of you speak of hope and joy and invigoration. You have weathered hardships, and have tremendous moments of great doubt, but you keep stepping forward, and I really do love you for it.

It is so easy and so popular to become resigned. Those that try to move past it are often called blind, ignorant, naive. They are mocked by those who secretly covet their indomitable spirit. And that mockery, if well-timed, can suck the wind out of renewed sails and drown barely afloat hopes. (good lord my metaphors are all over the place today... and I'm rambling.) My point is that I have a hard time keeping going. I get lost. I get overwhelmed. Sometimes I tell myself to go on. Sometimes I hope for more, then feel foolish for doing so. But the Internet has shown me that I'm not alone in these courageous charges of perseverance. If anything, I have seen that not only are there many out there who trudge ever forward... but MANY who seem to do it better than I. Who have ideas I haven't tried and wells of energy I haven't tapped into. They comfort me and inspire me and after 30 minutes or so of reading, I find myself possessed by the need to be outside, smelling the air, fascinated by blue sky and overjoyed at the feel of the breeze. I see the beauty in dandelions that grow between cracks in the sidewalk, and I'm blown away by the sound of bird wings as a flock of pigeons take flight.

Thank you Internet. Thank you heart-filled bloggers who express hopes and fears so honestly. Thank you, my dear tribe, for hopeful words, beautiful pictures and communities full of courageous passions. You open me to inspiration.

A Moment of Calm

2008-11-26T10:44:00.000-08:00

Is it the cold? The damp? The holiday? Or just the odd free moment in my hectic zoo schedule? I don't know for sure, but I'm feeling sublime and nostalgic.

As I walk across this campus, hood up in a weak fabric attempt to keep myself dry against the light Autumn rain, I can't help but think back to my early college days. As I was pass the Music building, I remember a 17 year old me, listening at practice room doors for my roomie, playing her clarinet scales and cursing loudly at mistakes. I remember nestling into the covers of my tiny twin bed, with a warm cup of cocoa, overflowing with mini marshmallows, listening to the Florida rainfall compete with loud hissing and clunks coming from an antique radiator. I remember the wet stillness that falls across Murphry Green when all the students are hidden away in rooms, or gathering in hallways.

I remember feeling so young, still stunned to already be in college... and yet feeling so old, mature and jaded to be out of high school. Laughably, that same conflicted arrogance is what can vex me so in my younger classmates. There are moments where I cannot tolerate it, and others where I jealously remember being so blissfully self-involved.

Course... here I am, blathering on about my life and my memories in my blog... as if anyone in the world could really possibly care. LOL. Self-involved is apparently a stage I haven't quite grown out of, if anyone really can.

In the library today, there is a warm silence that smells lightly of moist mulch and growing things. The rainy season in Southern California is also the time of growth, and I enjoy watching plants bud, or grass turning vibrantly green. The media/learning lab area is alive with keyboard clicks and IM pings. Laughter behind me as young women mock Myspace fotos and post with friends. Whereas only moments ago, I felt as if I were back at FSU, these new noises now make me feel as if MUCH has changed since I was in college. It was another decade... hell, another century. Wow... I'm crazy old.

I came to the library to work on my final project for Wildlife Education, while staying dry and warm. B.E. Projects were turned in today, and Diversity finals start next week (well, the first of 3 will be on Tuesday.) However, despite those pending assignments and anxieties, I sit fairly calm and composed, reflecting on college and the rain. It is a good day.

When I do find these moments to post, I have half an urge to ramble on about school: its woes, its dramas, and of course, the animals. Big rubber dairy boots and a shovel full of poop seems to all fade into the background with a 300+lb lioness watching you work. Her amber eyes entrance me and all manual labor seems easier when she's nearby. The coyote seems to trust me more than most others, and although I cannot work with her yet, I think about her often. This week, my assigned area of cleaning is Parrot Gardens. I'm admittedly not much of a bird person, but when a kookaburra breaks out into that long exotic call, even jaded ancient me can be impressed.
In short, school is school.... with all the good and bad that every college experience brings with it. But on rainy days full of memories, it is pleasant and playful and lovely to enjoy.

Wishing you all a great grey Wednesday, and may your Thanksgiving, however you experience it, be full of good friends and good food.

Standing in a New Place, looking Forward

2008-11-04T20:54:00.000-08:00

I've never been one to participate in politics. I'm not the girl you find in line at most polling places. I have little faith in our legislative and judicial systems, as they are currently practiced. My experience of politics has been 101 promises, 99 of which are broken (and one is reworded to exploit a built-in loophole). Why would I need to vote when I could get that sort of abuse from any number of previous relationships? Deeply ingrained in Generation-X cynicism, I embraced apathy... for it was easier than expressing and channeling the fury that our world's current state aroused within me.

And so, when the pre-presidential flurry began to spin, I tried to ignore it. ALthough I live with a man who has been working to support Obama since it was a grassroots campaign in Chicago, I tried to ignore it. I fought being won because in the end, it all comes down to one vivid and sometimes toxic emotion... hope.

Hope comes with strings attached. Strings of expectation. Expectations leave gaps and opportunities for disappointment, when they remain unmet. And so many times, they do.

Yet somehow, in all the chanting for change, a tiny seed of hope crept in. Small as it was, I did my best to avoid it, and not let it run any major decisions. I did however, find myself willing to vote, for the first time in a long time. Not only for the presidency, but for many state propositions that are important to me. I cast my ballot by mail, as I wasn't in the county during any open polling hours. And once the envelope was sealed, I didn't give it much thought. In fact, inundated with animals and education, I actually forgot several times that today was election day.

But as I killed time between evening classes, dining with a friend and seeing the first peek at the numbers, I felt an overwhelming stirring in my gut. I recognized it at once. The aching butterflies in my tummy were the twinges of hope, gnawed at by the fear of unmet expectations. Momentarily paralized, I did my best to push the news report and the quivering tingles aside, and focus on class.

Time passes, events roll forward whether you pay attention or not, and by the time I was in my car for the long ride home, McCain's concession speech was being aired. Driving east on the 118, tears rolled down my face. Me... my face... the face of a woman who until now has never much cared for election results, who avoids political discussions, and despises the bickering two-party system. Face to face with the fact that I was emotionally invested, I turned off my radio and came to terms with my unexpected reaction.

Can we? Really? Can we Change? Human beings are creatures of habit and radical turns of events have never been well embraced by society as a whole. The best of intentions can still be stymied by fillabustering and stalling. Worse yet, promises may not be kept.... best intentions might not be brought to the table. What then?

Hope. It terrifies me. But I cannot help but fill tonight with it. To let it float like smoke in the air, resonate like the final chord of a piano concerto. It hovers tangibly, waiting for expectations to be not only met, but embraced and bettered.

Yes We Can..... I certainly hope so.

For a Good Cause

2008-10-03T11:11:00.000-07:00

Hey folks! Clearly, if you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know that a central theme here is the rescue and preservation of all sorts of animals. Likewise, many of those folks who share my world are also concerned for our furry friends. That is why I would like you to go here. The blog belongs to SlackMistress, but on it, she will give you all the instructions you need in order to (1) Visit the fabulous Animal Rescue Site (2) Vote for the Bill Foundation to receive grant money for their work with dog rescue.

It is a simple task that takes only a few moments and can do a world of good. So please, make with the clicky-clicky and help save a dog. :)

Many many thanks!

Mourning

2008-09-27T11:16:00.000-07:00

Paul Newman

1925 - 2008

Rest in Peace, great spirit. You were as inspirational as you were beautiful.

As talented as you were endearing. Thank you for sharing with us

all the honest, integrity and laughter. We will not forget you.

The First Update & the Urge to be More

2008-09-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

Overwhelmingly overdue, this post really can't begin to capture the last 40 days. A ragged and runaway roller coaster, with all the highs and lows of a soap opera episode. I really can't think straight enough to put together a long cogent post, but I'll try to hit the highlights.

Of my 53 classmates, 52 of them are 10 years or more younger than me. That stings a bit. I mean, with all the demons I've been fighting the last few years, about being past my prime- too old, too fat, too.... well, being surrounded by skinny 20 somethings has definitely punched a few buttons. Then again, many of the conversations I've been privy to have proved to me that one really does learn and grow an AWFUL LOT between 24 - 36. There's just not enough money for me to go back to that time, and my years of experience have allowed me some leeway in staying above the flow of the drama.

Speaking of drama, it really is the worst part of the program. Sure, the hours are insanely long. Many days a week, I wake at 5am, to leave my house by 5:30. On Monday of this week, my alarm didn't go off, meaning that I was late... and thus docked points for the tardy. Still, that personal emergency, as emotionally taxing as it was, is nothing when compared to loves and betrayals and roommate tragedies that I have been made aware of. I remain confident in my decision to live away from other students, despite the long and tiring commute.

Some classes require public speaking and a taste for the theatrical. These are, of course, the easiest for me. Other classes require only that you attend, that you work hard while there, and that you are not ever even one minute late. Short of the "alarm clock incident", I have done well in those. Still other classes are heavy on science and memorization. They require studying and in some cases, comprehension (not just rhetoric). These are a little more difficult, although I've found some study buddies that are most helpful.

Until this week, I would have said that the class as a whole had not gelled. However, several times in the last few days, I have been doubled over with laughter as compatriots and I, delirious from fatigue, found humor and connection in our shared duties and hardships. As one new friend said recently, the early rising, the long hours, the filthy tasks, the stressful tests... they are stepping stones, not hurdles, for "we are exactly where we are meant to be."

As I sit here tonight, on a rare night without studying, and watch the movie "V for Vendetta", I reflect on its message, and remember how it moved me the night I first saw it in the theatre.

Frequently in Conservation class, as we watch another depressing video, I feel overwhelmed with sadness and despair that we as a people are doing so much damage to resources, to the creatures we share this planet with, to ourselves. It feels hopeless, most of the time. But the other night, there was a small stirring in my soul. I don't know why it was there, or how long it has been in there, residing quietly. But it was a part of me that believed in passion and purpose, integrity and making a difference, however small. It is the same part of me that cries a little each time I watch this movie. It is a part of me that urges me to be more, and that whispers to me, that whatever I may think, or even fear, the Universe has her grand design, and I am in fact "exactly where [I] am meant to be."

And So it Begins...

2008-08-10T21:12:00.001-07:00

9:41pm and this is my second take at this blog post. Damn you Blogger!

I'm sitting here at the computer, with the Olympics playing in the background. Don't know if I've mentioned it before, but Tag was an Olympic hopeful (Gold Medalist in AAU Nationals.) As such, he has several friends on the American Tae Kwon Do team, and he fervantly cheers on other American competitors. Through his passion, I have been able to view the Olympics as I never have before, through new eyes, filled with hope and pride. It has been a moving experience. However, as thrilling as it may prove to be, it does not keep me from near jumping out of my skin because tomorrow.... school begins.

The road here has seemed so endless. As a young girl, I wanted to be a dolphin & whale trainer. However, the fact that it seemed to require a lot of marine biology scared me away. So I turned to less cerebral, more instinctive pursuits... namely Theatre. And don't get me wrong, Theatre is still one of my greatest loves. There is no feeling like being on stage. But she has proven an unfaithful mistress, sometimes embracing me tightly to her bosom, other times kicking me in the teeth. And I was just not made for the "Business" of Show Business, particularly not here in Los Angeles, where no one is allowed to age or eat. Too many nights, I have sat by the proverbial phone, waiting for the promised call, only to go to bed late, teary-eyed and alone.

Whenever Theatre (or the rest of my uneven love life) left me broken and alone, animals have always been a source of joy and comfort. Nikki, my dear soulmate, has saved my life more times than I count. Beaker is a great spirit clown who has taught me to laugh at the simplest things. And when all else failed, I have often treated myself to a soul-inspiring trip to the Zoo.

Therefore,it is no surprise that when in 2004 my best friend said "Make a list of the things that make you truly happy, and then create a job from that," "working with animals" topped the list (followed closely by "working outside.") However, simply making those discoveries does not place all the yellow bricks in the road. My research took me high and low, searching for the best training programs for zoo keeping, or in-field observation and rehabilitation. Eventually, through one recommendation and the next, I came across the EATM program. Now all I had to do was apply, play my odds with the lottery admissions, find the finances to pay for 2 years of life with school but no job, AND complete the intensive 22 month program. I applied in late 2004 for the 2005 admissions, only to find myself 15th on the waiting list, short on cash and mired in a lousy job.

Flash ahead 3 years. Years filled with further research, paying off debts, & finding a boyfriend who not only encouraged my passion but promised to help me with living expenses. Lady Luck granted me grace with the admissions process, and friends have been nothing but enthusiastically encouraging, reassuring me that they are proud of me, they are excited for me, and they respect the fact that I am following a too long surpressed dream. From the little girl who dreamed of training whales, to the 36 year old woman, nervously giving voice to her "back to school" jitters... I can hardly believe my journey, my luck, my future.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, and keep your internets tuned to this bat channel. I'll do my best to blog all the ups and downs, so that you too can take this facinating roller coaster ride with me. They tell me dreams come true. They tell me to believe. I've been waiting a long time for those promises to be made manifest. Tomorrow, I walk trhough a door untried.... and find out what wonders are on the other side.

One Born Every Minute

2008-07-15T18:36:00.001-07:00

This Saturday past, I rose and began to get ready for a day spent in the Enrichment Department at the Zoo. However, Tag mentioned that he would not be coming along, for he was going with a co-worker to rescue some kittens he had heard about during the week.

Um... more kittens? More sleepless nights spent worrying about underweight, parasite infested little balls of fluff? More countless hours indulging favorite games like "Bite the hand that's feeding" and "Attack Mommie's Toes"? I'm totally IN!

And thus, I tagged along with Boy and his friend. Co-worker has known the kitty rescue woman for a bit of time now, and while she's well intentioned, she just doesn't have the resources and time to handle the amount of feline activity that crosses her path in her South Central neighborhood. So, although we went with the intention of only rescuing 2 black males, approximately 12 weeks old.... we ended up with 4 total. 3 blacks (all brothers) and one teeny ragdoll looking mess that was desperately in need of de-fleaing, de-worming, and all around recovery. I'm told the baby is 8 - 9 weeks old, but it is only as large as a healthy 5-week old, and the non-stop diarrhea hasn't helped. Welcome Kitty Boys to Chez Yummy.

Day 4 and I'm pleased to say that all are doing better. The big boys were standoffish at first, but now will gladly barrel you over with snuggles when you greet them in the morning. The little one is healing at a slower rate, but showing great progress. I'm working on photos, but it is challenging to get young cats to move slower than the speed of light.

Originally, the woman was calling one of the boys "Superman" although it hardly seemed appropriate, given his size and demeanor. He does however make an awesome "Clark Kent", and thus the comic hero theme was born. Two of the blacks have tiny spots of white, but one is completely dark. Dubbed the "Dark Knight", we lovingly refer to him as "Master Bruce". Last is the largest and most aggressive of the pack. His killer instincts, lethal claws and Hugh Jackman good looks have earned him the name "Logan." The baby remains unnamed for a number of reasons... but I affectionately call it "Little Bug" or "The Itty Bitty."

I'd love to write more, but I hear 4 plaintive voices begging for the next bowl of moist yummy goodness. So excuse me while I push off to tend to my charges. As always, the cats are being adopted out through the non-profit Milo's Sanctuary. If you have any interest in these kittens, or are just looking to make a tax-deductible donation, please don't hesitate to check this out.

Happy Tuesday to you. May all your dreams be purry, warm and wonderful.

The Sky is Falling

2008-07-08T10:24:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at home, trying to list off my to-do's and get some computer/paperwork done for the dance studio. For many people, just another Tuesday. However, on this shiny day, I'm working to the dulcet tones of piles of crumbling roof top, collapsing onto my ceiling. Far overdue, our landlord has decided to re-roof the apartment building. Good thing too, as the last rainy season made a guest appearance in our spare bedroom.

Whoa! HEY! as I type, a bit of roof has fallen onto the kitchen stove (we have a vent in the ceiling for smoke and cooking heat to escape to... however, it's currently being used as an entrance for old tar and bird poop.) Yay. Scuze me, while I handle this...

*brief interlude*

OK, back now. Waxed paper duct taped onto the ceiling. Stove saved. However, the poor cats and herbivores are still bouncing around, alert and one step closer to cardiac arrest.

Speaking of herbivores... we have a new addition to the family. He's a teeny little ball of fur, a young male guinea pig colored deep cocoa brown and soft latte cream. His name is Bean, and he's decided that he's very much in love with Truffles. Purrs flirtatiously whenever Truffles comes over and cleans his ears. It's terribly cute.

Happy Late Independence Day. The 4th passed with little fanfare for us. We did use the opportunity for a brief road trip. Bless my 10 year old Honda, which still gets excellent gas mileage. We debated driving up the coast to the Monteray Aquarium, which Tag has never seen. However, the Big Sur fires have the coastal road closed, so that wasn't going to happen. Therefore we drove north only as far as Ragged Point, where we enjoyed a gorgeous sunset. The Point is one of my favorite places on the coast and I have long wanted to stay there. However, it's usually packed to the gills and very expensive. However, the fires have been negatively affecting their business, so we were able to get a greatly reduced price on one of the best rooms. King bed next to a fireplace, with a balcony that was right on the cliff's edge, with an outstanding view. We scored some fabulous local wine and slept to the sound of crashing surf. On the way home the next day, we lounged with the locals, tried to tour Hearst Castle (they were sold out), and generally enjoyed the sun and sea along the beautiful California coast.

Now I'm back at the desk (or dining room table, such as it is), trying to be productive, but like a little kid anxiously waiting for Christmas, I'm counting the days until school begins. The summer heat intensifies the angsty dread of anticipation, which can only be ended by that thrill of the first day. I haven't been this eager for August since grade school.

And still, the roof falls. *sigh* I didn't think anything could make this day seem longer, but counting the hours of loud crumbling noise lengthens each mundane moment.

Hope your July 8th is more productive.

Words from the Past

2008-06-24T15:45:00.000-07:00

I was looking for a good quote on loss and grieving for a friend of mine, when I came across a collection of old journals. Knowing that I often write inspirational quotes and thoughts in the front few pages of my journals, I flipped through a few. Fascinatingly enough, I found something that I have no recollection of writing, but that I very clearly noted was written by me, for me... whenever I might find it in the future.

"Just because no one has been fortunate enough to realize what a gold mine you are, doesn't mean you shine any less. Just because no one has been smart enough to figure out that you can't be topped, doesn’t stop you from being the best. Just because no one has made the race worth while does not give you permission to stop! Just because no one has realized what a woman you are doesn’t mean they can affect your femininity. Just because no one has shown up to love you on your own level doesn’t mean you have to sink to theirs. Just because the Universe is still preparing your King, doesn’t mean you aren’t already a Queen!

Just because your situation isn’t progressing right now doesn’t mean you need to change a thing. Keep shining, keep running, keep hoping, keep praying, keep being exactly what you already are… COMPLETE & PERFECT.”

The News We've been Waiting For!

2008-06-20T13:14:00.001-07:00

I'm IN!! Finally, I'm in. School that is. As of August 11th, 2008, I will be part of the "First Years" in Moorpark College's Exotic Animal Training & Management program. A full time animal care program which will own the majority of time in my life until my graduation in May/June of 2010.

Blogging doesn't seem adequate to express how incredibly excited I am. So join with me in doing the happy dance

*does very silly happy dance*

No seriously, you can join in anytime. :)

The Fabulous Sex Lives of Bugs

2008-06-14T19:13:00.000-07:00

Ok, so I might be a month late posting the info on these wonderful shorts, but they were just brought to my attention today.

Beautiful Isabella Rossellini enacts in some detail the sordid sexual habits of some of the Wild Kingdom's smaller creatures. Please please please, for a hearty chuckle, click here.

Ghost Whispering

2008-06-12T13:59:00.000-07:00

The weather warms up and I catch a cold. Ah Spring, how I love the smell of your irony.

But seriously folks, we're going on day 5 of my not having a voice, and it's just not fun anymore. The first day, when you get that gravelly low sound (which my sound engineer friend calls my "Demi Moore" voice) it can be a bit sexy and fun. But once that short lived stage passes and you are sentenced to silence (or in my case a nagging, hacking cough) the sexiness has passed and it's just a crapshoot of lousy-ness.

One can only drink so much juice and herbal tea. The extreme tenacity of the coughing fits leads the convulsing bladder to want to leak a little bit, and that uncomfortable feeling is not helped by being overly-hydrated. But not taking in a constant flow of fluids leaves the throat dry and scratchy and adds to the hacking... so there's really an element of Catch-22 here.

Add that to the fact that my dear friend Dreamschool just had to put down her beloved companion of 14 years (Farewell Ione, till we see you at the Rainbow Bridge) and it has just not been a stellar week here at the house of Teece. (True, it's been an even worse one at the house of Dreamschool)

I've had so many thoughts for blogs lately, so many of them have to do with letting go. Saying the things that need to be said and released. You know the sort of thing... well, I don't know. Does this happen to anyone else but me? Example: I'm driving, and the road is full of traffic, or maybe it's wide open, but basically my mind, my conscious thought, has seemingly shut down and I am in the Zen of just operating the car when BAM, my face blushes and I find myself speaking out loud, "But see.. I didn't mean THAT." I come to and look around and realize that it's just me in the car, and no one else has relived that embarrassment from my past except me. But in that quiet moment, it was a real and vivid as the day it first occurred. I have a ton of those. Moments when the past sneaks up and I find myself flushed or furious, saddened or humiliated. I wish they'd quit haunting me, and I've been toying with the thought that perhaps typing them up and setting them free is the cure for such ghosts.

They say that coughing, and laryngitis are manifestations of when the body needs to express something, but for one reason or another, it has been silenced. It is a very intimate thing and I'm struggling with the idea of just putting my dirty laundry out there. Perhaps I am not as ready to release as I thought. Or perhaps, this is just a part of the process, and soon a series of posts will begin

Finally June

2008-06-03T13:25:00.000-07:00

OH May... please don't take it personally when I say that I am so very glad you have passed. You were a long month, full to the brim of monotony and pain. With an endless list of "to-dos", you packed each moment, leaving me emotionally spent, mentally drained, & physically exhausted.

To Sum Up:

The Foster Kittens grow increasingly adorable with each day. They also grow increasingly demanding and require constant cleaning up. 3 out of 4 are pre-adopted (thank heavens) and I believe the 4th will have a promised home after this week, so it's only a matter of time before they all leave our happy nest. I will likely get teary and will definitely miss their endless pitter-patter. However, the Senior Cats are counting the days until their mid-day nap can go uninterrupted.
The Seals & Sea Lions flipper their way deeper into my heart. Some graduate forward, to bigger pools and bottom feedings, eventually winning their release back to the ocean. Others sadly deteriorate in ways we can't stop, finally leaving this plane. Just last week, I was present at the demise of a small, soft harbor seal pup. His fur was plush and he seemed a child's toy, except for the fact that his body grew cold & unmoving under my touch. Until that moment, I wasn't sure how I would handle losing an animal. But in the moment, he was suffering so, I was relieved for him when that finally ended.
Still no word on school. The endless anticipation of that "alternate/wait list" call continues to drag on.
May 2008 marked the end of my 1001 days. The final update of my list of 101 things will be along shortly.
Lastly, Bonus Points to you, dear May... for the rousing bout of tendinitis. Several days this month, the searing pain has rendered my right arm nearly useless. Which makes typing a blog, teaching pole work, & restraining 100lb animals more than a little challenging.

Trying to Reason with the Hurricane Season*

2008-05-07T08:41:00.000-07:00

I couldn't sleep this morning, because my brain was buzzing with things to say and urges to express. Yet, when I got up and put myself at the computer, a dam went up in my brain and I began only to check email and read blogs.

I'm avoiding myself again.

I'm in a time of transition. I have been for several years now. Usually, when I think of transition, I think of relatively short bursts of energy, pushing me forward, like a snake shedding its skin. However, this transition has been slower and more laborious. Like pregnancy, it creeps forward, seeming sometimes endless. And like pregnancy, one major transition is then followed by another, for after giving birth, it isn't' like Mom gets to go right back to her childless life... no, now a new phase of change and adaptation begins as she surrenders her life to the whims and needs of her spawn.

By the way, I am (for the record) NOT PREGNANT. I'm just using that as an example.

What I am is... confused. Heading down a path I've not yet labeled or recognized completely. I feel a little lost in this body, in this life. I still don't make money in anything related to animal work. I still don't have an answer on school (well, I sort of do. I'm on the wait/alternate list. I'm number 5 on this list, and that's good... but it's not a definite yes or no yet, and the limbo is making me nutz!)

NO... it is more than just school or work. It is my body. It is aging. Goddess Spirituality talks about the triad of Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone. For so long, I was an embodiment of Maiden energy. Sometimes Dark Maiden, with over-indulgences and self-destructive behaviors, but always there was a youthfulness to my step. Although my body was that of a mature woman, my spirit felt young, and beautiful.

Growing up, I was not the standard beauty. It long plagued me that I was awkward and brunette and more curvy than statuesque. So I worked like a bastard to make up for it, with a ton of personality and an overt sensuality/sexuality. As I grew up, and did more inner work, I began to actually look in the mirror and say, "That girl there, she's .... well she's attractive, and that's not bad." I felt that I was beginning to accept myself. More so, I was very nearly able to love myself, how I looked.

But then things began to change. Was it all the emotional butchering of 2005? Was it the physical traumas caused by the IUD in 2006? Was it all the health problems and chronic pain I've had lately? Was it settling into a real long term relationship, sharing my space, my every mood and bodily function with another human being? Dealing with intimacy in a way I'd never known before and finding that I wasn't as good at it as I'd hoped? Or was it the Chinese water torture of year after year of office politics and useless corporate posturing that just sucked the joy out of me? I don't know what the tipping point was, but the last 2 - 3 years have aged me. I look into the mirror and the Maiden is gone. My eyes just don't sparkle. I notice more wrinkles. I can pinch way more than an inch, pretty much everywhere.

Somewhere inside, there is a very startled little girl looking out my eyes and saying to my reflection, "What happened to you? You Got OLD!" And in this town, Old = Unattractive. Old = Invisible. Old = Done. And I don't want to be done... I'm 36 years old. I refuse to be done.

The 1/4 sleeve tattoo on my right arm is a reminder to me that I am not finished with my journey. Clearly, the head shaving is also an attempt to redefine, reconfigure.... reimagine what "grown up" looks like. Like adolescence, I find myself trying to compensate for not being "pretty". Like a youthful rebellion, I am acting out, refusing to conform (because deep down inside, I know that if I tried to conform, I still wouldn't fit. I still wouldn't be "good enough" for the standard.)

To go back to my earlier analogy, I believe that I have completed the birthing portion of this transformation. But I'm still struggling with the surrender concept: the idea that I must willing let go of the rope to which I cling, that previous image of self, and give myself completely to a fresh, reimagined fledgling spawn of the woman I am to become.

Dude... it has to be said. Sometimes this growing-up shit sucks eggs!

* I know this post has nothing to do with hurricanes. The Jimmy Buffett quote is just my way of saying that sometimes we try to make sense of things that are beyond our control. We wish to understand cosmic nature and all her destructive forces, and sometimes, that just doesn't do a damn bit of good. What is, just IS. Grab your beer, hold on to your trailer, and try to enjoy the ride.

April Showers of Random Info

2008-04-21T14:34:00.000-07:00

OH my, hello there little neglected blog. So much to say but April has sneaked by on fleeting tip-toe and I can hardly keep track. Hate to be so abrupt, but that seems to be a theme in my life lately... stripping it down. Getting to basics. Moving forward erratically at break-neck speed. Therefore, I must sum up in bullet points:

Finally got taxes done, April 14th. That is SO LATE for me. However, after going through business deductions and volunteer work, I do have a small amount coming to me from our friends at the Federal offices. Thank the gods, because we could use a little cash.

Marine Mammals aplenty!! My hours at the center continue to accrue, and I've gotten pretty damn quick at being able to handle the elley seal pups as needed. However, I still stay away from sea lions, as they are quick and nasty tempered.

Zoo Gnus! I've been working with Enrichment, creating required toys and tools for the animals health and enjoyment. In May, I've volunteered for Bear Medical team for the Bearnstine Bears event. Um... not to worry, those bears are stuffed. I'll be wearing scrubs, but I'll only be mending fabric and faux fur.

Kitten Season! Helping out Milo's Sanctuary, I'm currently fostering 4 4-week old kittens. My every waking hour seems focused on preparing food, feeding, wiping bottoms, doing poopy laundry and washing bottles and dishes. I'm WORN OUT! I don't know how you Moms of human children do this for more than a few weeks. YIKES!

Lastly- NEW HAIR... or the lack thereof. Yep, I did it... went bald. Now I just need to work out constantly and never eat again if I want to look like Demi in G. I. Jane.

Another Month Gone By

2008-03-31T11:04:00.000-07:00

Ladies, you know that day or two before your period starts? The ones when you are so exhausted you can barely lift the brownie to your lips?? *sigh* I’m having one of those. I just slept 10 hours straight and I still can barely find the energy to make it down a flight of stairs. Seeing how I live on the second floor, I better remedy that if I want to make it to the car. I must put money in the bank today.

Last week was vivacious, if not a little perilous. Wednesday, I had a dental appointment (oh joy), followed by driving a friend to LAX (more joy), which apparently had some unusual explosions around it later that night (not to worry, has not been determined to be terrorist.) Thursday, I pulled a double shift at the Marine Mammal Center. That is good for the little elephant seal pups, but bad for the tendinitis in my elbow. Friday I worked all day at the dance studio, then fought rush hour for 2 hours to go to dinner with some friends. Oddly enough, even hours of making herring milkshakes for pinnipeds has not tarnished my love of sushi. Late Friday, I picked up Tag from the airport (Burbank this time, which is far less likely to burst into flame.) Early Saturday, we reported to the Zoo for a full day of smiling volunteer goodness. I am proud to report that Tag has passed his LA Zoo Docent final exam, and next week will have graduation ceremonies. YAY!!

Can’t believe March is already ending! Out like a lamb indeed, slipping past the gates nearly unnoticed.

Sprung!!

2008-03-23T08:41:00.000-07:00

Not all the thinking has been dreary and dark. I've had some epiphanies lately that have allowed me to begin viewing my life with a new set of specs.

I'm just finishing up Week 3 in Walking in this World. Now, I admit that I'm finding much of the book challenging. Transitioning from actress to animal behavioralist/trainer/keeper feels like walking away from creativity. However, the exercises remind me that life, lived to its purpose, is always creative. There is creation when a mathematician writes a proof, or a scientist searches for truth in a microscope. There is art in each human action, if only you let it exist. Therefore, I put my faith in the idea that my life still contains something anarchistic, untamed and alive, and I put together a collage art piece for speaking subconsciously with myself.

Holding a question/issue loosely in my mind, I spent nearly 2 hours pulling images that spoke to me. Some were as expected, animals or ocean. But others were surprising. Many were ripe berries and blooming flowers. Succulent fruits. Opulent pillows. Bold colors leapt forth in Blues, Reds and Purples.

Assembling the images into a message was the next part of the assignment, and oddly enough, I found they practically placed themselves. Even though I'd clipped out many words, only a few made it on the page. Most were simple. "Joy" & "Go. Do. Be." are the primary messages. However, the most unique picture and the most unusual words put themselves right at the heart of the piece. The visual is a stunning crystal formation, white & silver, pointing out in all directions, like a crystalline explosion.... or the tree topper in Superman's Fortress of Solitude holiday decorations. Under that, the words "God wants to see us happy."

Step 3: Write about what you have found. I sat there, pen in hand, overwhelmed by the message of my art (or my heart, as my fingers just Freudially typed). The piece is overwhelmingly about being ripe & ready for bloom. It speaks of joy, and expression. Unapologetic life, bursting forth with a center of divine guidance, inspiration and permission.

That's all well and good to look at and see... but to really GET that message was ... literally stunning. I sat motionless as tears rolled down my face. For you see, I never envisioned my life happy. Some girls put together dream proms or fantasy weddings. Others picture themselves ensconced in happy home lives, or pursing dream jobs. Me... I planned my suicide. Very elaborately, at the height of my fantasy career. Even in those frequently played movies in my head, I was not happy. Even then, I pictured myself emotionally alone in a sea of “friends.” I did not have love, although I had multiple affairs. I was tragic and under appreciated, like the “idols” I looked to at the time; Marilyn Monroe, Vincent Van Gogh, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin. Ask the people who knew me at 15 and they will tell you that I was a firm believer in “Live Fast. Die Young. Leave a good looking corpse.”

The more I thought back to my past, the more I realized that I never, NEVER thought I’d be happy. I never understood, or even imagined it was possible. I thought it was a good and positive goal to die before the world was ready for you to do so, like the old theatre adage “Leave them wanting more.” I thought "tragic martyr" was a fulfilling lifestyle choice.

No wonder my current situation seems so foreign to me. I wake up, and there’s not some feeling of overwhelming dread hanging over me. I’m not counting the hours until I’m dead. I get up in the morning and I have… hope. Previously, I would have thought this to be selfish, or childish, or both. I would have found the notion ridiculous, and would have scoffed shamefully at myself for even thinking it. But there it was… right in the damn middle of my piece. A clear affirmation that it is right and good to pursue what you love. The simple and loving statement that “God* wants to see us happy.”

I still don’t know exactly where I’m headed or what my life is going to look like in the future. But apparently, inside, I know that I am on the right path, getting riper each moment, preparing to blossom into happiness.

And as if to confirm it all for me, The Laughing Maiden opened her loving arms and with her soft breath, gave color back to the garden. Spring has sprung. No where was that more evident than at Pike's Public Market in downtown Seattle. I strolled through with a smile on my face and a blooming bit of hope in my heart. It is hard to be down when surrounded by hundreds of daffodils and tulips.

For more photos from our Pacific Northwest Adventures, be sure to check my flickr.

* GOD, for the purpose of this post and its various readers, may pleasantly stand for "Give Own Definition". I personally believe in a benevolent higher power, although I more frequently will call it Goddess or Universe. Whatever your specific definition, the point remains the same.

Revelations at 15,000 feet

2008-03-21T21:39:00.000-07:00

Tag had a business trip this week (it is his busy season). However, time and location being in line with the stars, I was able to go along for a small vacation. Our jaunt took us up to Seattle, a city I had longed to visit. Raised in Florida, but living in a desert, I find myself chronically desiring a good rain. Seattle seems a likely candidate for providing such pleasures.

However, I find that the trip allotted me so much more than just precipitation. The flights themselves were fairly uneventful, often hovering over or barrelling through fluffy worlds of grey and white. Below me the land stretched out, a luscious green, rising and falling in large crinkly waves; emerald velvet discarded by some frivolous seamstress. Deep pools of black decorated the fabric of the landscape. Tract housing, with its circular patterns and identical roofs, reminded me of ringworm signs in flesh, and the irony of that was not lost on me. Urban sprawl is a parasite, leaching its way through virgin wildlife. Forehead pressed to the tiny window, I was simultaneously awed, inspired, saddened and disgusted. The more I study and work with conservation and rescue, the more I rage at the majority of American culture, with its need for instant gratification and its "Me First" attitude. And yet there I was, riding on a plane, for a recreational trip to another city, for no other reason than "Oooh, that would be cool."

Tag says that I worry too much. He's not the first to say something along those lines to me. But I can't stop my mind from spinning into a frenzy. I can't stop it long enough to sit still these days. My actual mental health scares me sometimes, as I feel that my long time depression is slowly transforming into something more bi-polar. I don't want to be sick, but the signs seem so inevitably obvious. Yet I don't want it to be true. I don't want to be on medication, not now... and certainly not forever.

I've read on various blogs the argument that if I had diabetes, I wouldn't hesitate to take insulin. Or if I had cancer, I wouldn't hesitate to treat it with radiation or chemo. But the simple fact is that I wouldn't want to. I would resist traditional therapies and would like to pursue other methods of healing. I don't care what the disease, I don't want to be on medication for the rest of my life. However, I fear that I am inherently lazy, and would not do all that needs to be done to treat the illness holistically. It is overwhelming to look down the barrel of that gun and feel so disempowered.

So runs the gamut of emotions that I experienced over the last three days. Awe at beauty, but fury at its demise. Impassioned about living, but despondent over where life is headed. Lucky, but unlucky. I am urged to take life by its proverbial horns and change the world, but discouraged by the feeling of being perpetually behind the 8-ball. Like the tiny ice crystals that form on plane windows, there are moments of small, unparalleled beauty, but they melt before your feet touch down.

Thinking never stops in my brain. I wake from dreams still pondering the questions that were asked of me during their neuron-dancing frenzy. And yet still, I wake without answers. Hanging in mid-air, the ground below is magical and enticing to the touch. I just need to find a way to bring that essence down, pluck it out of the wind like a butterfly or stray balloon, and let the floating freedom transform me. Because if I don't figure out how to manifest that transformation soon, I fear that I will remain this neurotic pill-popping people hater. And that is just one step closer to becoming part of the problem.

There is so much that needs transformation and healing. But tonight, I am overwhelmed and jet lagged, lost in thought that handicaps my desire for action. It is not the most comfortable seat on the plane.

New Love

2008-03-08T11:48:00.000-08:00

Tag is off on a business trip, and while I miss him terribly, I must admit that I've been spending my time with a new love. He's charming and attentive. His deep dark eyes speak volumes about his troubled past and his need for attention. He wins my heart each time I see him.

His name is Green Elley, Pen 6, but I just call him Big G. Sure, he has his flaws and quirks. He smells of fish. He's not potty-trained. He'll give the goo-goo love eyes to any sweet young thing that passes by with a bucket of herring. And the mucus... Yeesh, don't get me started on the elephant seal's amazing ability to generate and expel mucus.

Still, as I stood in Pen 7, in my chest-high waders, scrubbing seal poop off the concrete, I realized that I'd rather do that for free than deal with the office politics crap that I tolerated for 2 years at my last job.

If you too feel the pull of Big Green's dark & penetrating orbs, have I got a place for you! Imagine spending 4 - 5 hours listening to the varied barks and calls of California Sea Lions while blending up fish milkshakes. Picture yourself thawing and sorting endless amounts of fish while breathing deeply the scent of sea (and by scent of the sea, I mean copious amounts of pinniped guano.) Better yet, imagine that moment, where you collapse exhausted into your car seat, after hours of back-breaking work, and sit silently smiling, knowing that at least one abandoned Elephant Seal pup is still alive because of you and those around you.

If you live in the Southern California area, have a love for wildlife, and at least half a day of spare time a week... please think about joining the Volunteers at San Pedro's Marine Mammal Care Center at Fort MacArthur. We're heading into the "busy season", where we will soon be inundated with countless elley pups who have stopped nursing, but have not found the way to survive on fish alone. Summer can also bring algae blooms, which can lead to Domoic Acid Toxicity in Sea Lions, causing neurological damage in the animals. In short, this small but efficient rehabilitation center is about to way more animals than they have volunteer hands.

You can do it for that "good Samaritan" feeling. Or perhaps you want to do it as a write off on next year's taxes. Or maybe, you'll find yourself here just so you too can get a chance to look into Big G's amazing eyes. Whatever your reason, the experience can change your life. Trust me on that.

*snurf*

Marine Mammal Care Center at Fort MacArthur
3601 South Gaffey Street
San Pedro, CA 90731
Phone: (310) 548-5677
info@marinemammalcare.org

Hoping for a Breeze

2008-02-21T13:40:00.000-08:00

She lives. She returns. She posts.

I wish that after a 3- 4 week absence I could say something wildly insightful and deliciously moving... but alas, I find that the old adage is true. The hardest part of each endeavor is the beginning, and I have spent the last month feeling a bit overwhelmed with the whole "change my life" plan.

I am working with Walking in the World, the sequal to The Artist's Way. As such, I get up each morning and handwrite pages in my journal. I'm still working on the "weekly walk" part. I find that one of the arts that is really coming up for me right now is photography. I've always loved experimenting with it, but it has been years since I had a really good camera to play with. I'm trying to let myself explore colors and images... but one of my favorite joys is to take the camera to the zoo and see if I can capture a good shot of the animals.

I was accepted as a volunteer at the LA Zoo. Have gone through my training and can begin acquiring hours as soon as I get back a negative TB test result and have my fingerprints done. Additionally, I was included as part of a behind the scenes tour of the Long Beach Aquarium. Got to go above the tanks and feed the fish. But more excitedly, spoke with a gentleman who is charge of volunteer coordination, and will be in further touch with him in order to begin volunteering in the Animal Husbandry department down there. Next Monday, I'm going to an Orientation at the San Pedro Marine Mammal Care center. I still need to fill out my application paperwork in order to volunteer for Best Friend's local adoptions.

On Tuesdays, I spend my day at the Soultree Motion corporate offices, helping Dirt organize and update the "new direction" for the dance studio. Tuesday nights, I still teach my class. These activities are the only ones that bring in money, so far. The financial situation is survivable, but definately challenging and a wee bit stressful.

I heard back from school... My application materials were recieved and I have cleared the "5 pre-req" hurdle. YAY! I am now officially "in the running" for the 2008 class. There's informational meetings in March, and the list of those accepted will be released in May. Until then, I'm on pins and needles, and trying to get as many animal hours in with my various volunteering spots.

The ever-changing Southern California weather is driving my sinuses batty. The cats seem happier with someone home more of the time. Truffles is enjoying the nip in the air, and throws his jingling bunny-ball around in a one-man volleyball game most mornings around 7am. In short, life is continuing to move forward, although sometimes it is a maddeningly-slow pace.

I dream of sitting in the jungle, observing the great apes. I long to own a Nikon D-80, so that I might capture wild untamed life, abundant on savannah plains in Africa. I want to get SCUBA certified, so that I can dive at the aquarium.

So many plans, hopes, and dreams. It is hard to focus in all directions at once, pushing each a little bit. Like running with several kites behind me, waiting for the Universe to blow a swift wind under the "right" one.

Back from the Brink

2008-01-30T10:28:00.000-08:00

Ladies & Gentlemen, please pardon my absence... but when they tell you that this years flu is a bitch, I suggest you believe them!

Actually, it wasn't the flu in my case, but an over-achieving sinus infection, which got into my ears (causing pain there) and dripped down my throat (causing bronchial issues). After running a fever of 102 - 103 for THREE days straight, I finally made it to the doctor to see if anything could be done. I'm on horsepill antibiotics and even those took several days to get rid of the fever. IN short, I didn't really show up for my last week of work... and I'm just now starting to act and feel like a human again.

I did make a point of arriving at my desk for 3 hours on my last day of employment. I sat, bundled to the 9's, feverish and coughing, finishing up the expense reports and items that I promised would be done before I left. And in the end, when i had that last "wrap up" conversation with the Big Dog, he still made a point of saying how my inability to accept change in the personnel of the department caused my frustrations. NO JACKASS, it was YOU!! YOU caused my frustration, with your lack of spine and your double-talk. With your inability to understand human nature or communicate with any sort of clarity, YOU ARE THE PROBLEM. Now Fuck off! I am done with you.

Wow... does THAT feel good to type! Healing comes in many ways, I'm discovering.

I'm also discovering that life without rules is challenging for a work-a-holic like myself. I don't let myself sleep in terribly much, because I know that leads to depression for me. Amandarin suggested finding an early morning yoga class to go to, and I think that's a stellar idea. IN the meantime, I'm researching jobs online, and waiting to hear if I've been accepted to the LA Zoo Volunteer training class. (I interviewed on Saturday.) I sent in my application for school, and am doing reading and research on various job options out there. Trying to find my bliss, as it were.

It's a beautiful day outside. No rain. The wind smells fresh and the sun looks warm. I believe I'll head out for a day of errands and figure out the rest as I go.

Screw Wine!

2008-01-16T17:55:00.000-08:00

Today, I am choosing to age like a fine whiskey.

If you look at whiskey, aging of whiskey smoothes out rawness and greenness, it adds depth and complexity and smoothness, it adds flavors, it concentrates what's desirable. At the same time, there is the evaporation of what's less consequential and I think it's fairly easy to see analogies in human life with that process.

- Andrew Weil, M.D.

P.S. and on a completely UNRELATED note... if you have a moment, go read this! I haven't laughed that hard in a while. Thanks Dooce!!

Choices

2008-01-15T11:38:00.000-08:00

One's philosophy is not best expressed in words; it is expressed in the choices one makes. In the long run, we shape our lives and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And, the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.-- Eleanor Roosevelt

The prospect of being unemployed is not one that fills me with a great deal of comfort. However, the actions of others around me (here at the office) have confirmed that my resignation was ABSOLUTELY the best choice for me to make. Alice in Wonderland once said, "I do not want to go amongst mad people," and believe me, I could not echo her sentiments more resolutely.

As the news of my departure leaks its way through the department, and then the company, many have approached to ask where my path is heading. I can give no answer other than, "I don't know... but sure as hell not here." An overwhelming abundance of choices are spread before me and I could pick any and do well.

However, some choices are not made with the mind, but with the heart, or the soul, or the very essence that drives you. I tell others that I don't know where I'm headed, but that's not entirely true. I know that my future must contain working with animals, and preferably working outside. Too long have I sat 10 - 12 hours at a time, in front of a computer, ignoring the fact that the sun rises and sets and I don't have a moment to get outdoors. Too long have I smiled and played "nice" within the snake pit of office politics. And for what? As Amandarin pointed out not long ago, "No one is ever going to reach their deathbed and find themselves wishing they'd spent more time at work." I'm pursing returning to school. I'm looking at nearby possibilities. And of course, I'm still reaching for my heart's mission.

One night, I was scouring the web, researching opportunities and I found myself weeping for all the lost years. I turned to Tag and said, "How did I get to be 36 without even KNOWING these jobs were out there?" To which he responded, "The good news is... you're only 36, and you know now."

Eleanor is right. This process takes an entire lifetime, and I'm not done yet. If I am truly in charge of shaping my life, then let me grab the sculptor's tools and create a reality I'm proud to call my own. Let me choose to be happy and fulfilled. Let me make the choices that make a difference.

Joining the Ranks

2008-01-10T21:49:00.000-08:00

Life does so like to throw curve balls at the best laid plans. For example, blogging. If you take too long in the crafting of your statement, you may rapidly find that what you wished to say is no longer relevant.

Case in point, I was working on a blog post called “The Death in Deadlines.” Long have I bemoaned the corporate world, chained to a desk and other’s rules. I have been doing two different jobs, acting as both Exec Assistant and Special Events Coordinator. The first is my job on paper (which grows daily). The second, I’ve stepped up to because it is desperately needed (and far more entertaining than the first.) The pace has become unmanageable and the office drama has grown more emotionally draining by the month. Add to that the fact that I left my heart in Kanab, Utah, and what was once uncomfortable becomes unbearable. Thus over a month ago,“Operation Departure” was set in motion.

I notified my friends in IT that I would need to move my iTunes library off my work computer. This did require my buying a laptop of my very own, on which to relocate my tunage. Tag began budgeting, to find out how we might be able to live on a single income (in the interim, not as a full time solution.) I set up time with the President of the company, to establish why they needed a full time Events Coordinator, and also to name the candidate I thought best to fill that position. Lastly, I declared to those closest to me that I would not see February 1st in my current situation.

I am prone to staying in very bad situations for way too long. My inner codependent screams, “I can fix this,” and I repeatedly attempt to make silk from the sow’s ear. Therefore, by declaration, I enlisted my friends to be my reality check and my reinforced backbone. If, for some reason I did not give notice, they were all permitted to question my sanity and … harass me until I stood up for myself and left.

This week, each day, they would IM me encouraging words and a great deal of support. And each day this week, I considered backing out of my plan. Not because the work situation was getting any better, but because my masochistic self felt irrepressibly guilty for leaving a job for no better reason than my mental health.

“Death in Deadlines” was to speak to the fact that my friends were (rightly so) calling for me to honor my commitment, and to admit my fear and hesitation to honor myself. However, today (the day before I was to give notice) events came to pass that required my announcement to come one day early. It was time to just take a deep breath and speak up for myself. I did so, and while I kept it diplomatic, a small spark inside me ignited and I felt … I don’t know how to describe it. Hopeful, perhaps. Free, maybe.

Whatever the feeling, the point is… with a great deal of planning, but no clear idea of where I’m headed, I let go of what was, and jumped both feet into the ranks of the unemployed.

101 in 1001- The '08 Update

2008-01-02T10:43:00.000-08:00

It's been quite a while since I updated my 1001 list (which comes to a close this May, EEEEK!). Thought it might be best to check in and find out how I'm doing.

48 Completed

Several others in Progress

5 months to get my ass moving on the others. EEEP!

The Mission: Complete 101 pre-set tasks in a period of 1001 days.

The Criteria: Tasks must be specific (no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (ie. Represent some amount of work on my part).

Start Date: Aug 13, 2005

Finish Date: Saturday, May 10, 2008

Below are my 101 tasks (grouped for easier reading)

April 07 Update: I realize that I gave myself an unattainable amount of travel, as well as setting goals that have changed due to circumstances. Therefore I am removing them, and replacing them with others.

Travel

Renew that Passport (working on this. Sent away for notarized copy of birth certificate. Will send that to LA passport office, once i get it)

~~Visit Rio De Janeiro~~ REMOVED (postponed till after 08)

~~Return to New Orleans for a sultry sensory experience~~ REMOVED: Written before Katrina hit.... I do intend to get to NO again someday, but I'm letting her heal a bit before i go.

Hike Macchu Picchu

Visit Montana for no apparent reason, other than it’s on this list.

Get to NYC to shower all my peeps there with overdue love and attention

~~Spend at least a week in Hawaii on island other than Oahu~~DONE. Oct 10- 15, 2007 on Big Island

~~NEW- Visit 2 US states that I've never been to before~~ DONE. I realized after I wrote this that my cross-country road trip with Tag (in October 06) had me spending time in Illinois, Missouri, & Kansas... all of which were new to me.

~~See that GD park in Hong Kong!~~ REMOVED (postponed till after 08)

~~Attend Burning Man~~ REMOVED (I may or maynot go, but it won't be before May 08)

NEW- Take Tag on a roadtrip to Northern Cali

Go back to Temple of Sekhmet in Nevada

~~Spend a day someplace tranquil.~~ Tuesday, May 2, 2006 at the San Diego Zoo

Health & Fitness

Lose 30 lbs

Keep those 30 lbs off for at least 6 months

~~Go without drinking alcohol for a month (EEEK!)~~ DONE. The Detox required this, and it was acutally easier to do than I ever thought it might be

Establish some sort of exercise schedule that includes 45 min aerobics 3x a week,and muscle toning 3 times a week (yoga, pilates, dance class all count for this one) I'm doing dance class 3 times a week now, so all I have to add is the aerobic

NEW- Participate in triathlon or another marathon

Tight Toned arms (such that you are never embarrassed to wear tank-tops or other sleeveless accoutrement)

~~Try Juicing for a month (meaning at least 2 – 3 times a week, replace a meal/supplement my craptastic diet with a multi juice beverage, freshly prepared.~~)DONE. Detox to the rescue again

Take a Martial Arts class

NEW- Take a boxing class

Fast for 10 days.

~~Keep food & water journal for a least a week~~ DONE, but I'm working on doing this on a more regular basis.

Do the Damn Core Secrets video I bought months ago

~~Incorporate daily vegetable consumption into diet. (green things, every day, for at least a month)~~DONE during Detox

~~Regular (at least 1x a month) massage~~DONE, now that best friend is CMT, and she needed someone to practice on during school.

~~Regular (at least 1x a month) chiropractics~~ Every other week, since Aug 2006

~~Get up-to date with all required “well-woman”~~ DONE July 2006

~~Get dental check up (cleaning etc)~~ Not only DONE, but I had my follow-up "6 month" check up in March 07

~~Buy new glasses,that have proper prescription and look good~~ DONE

Career/Occupation

~~Attend 2 year EATM program, such that all Animal Jobs are possible~~ REMOVED, for now: (even if I apply this year and am accepted, I won't start until August 08. So this will not be done in time. However, I've not walked away from this dream. Therefore, consider this item merely Postponed)

~~Complete Teacher Training at S Factor~~ Slight change here... Teacher training at Soultree

~~Teach my first SoultreeClass~~Done! Been teaching about 8 months now.

Reprint Headshots!!

~~Get Cast in something you’d see on TV (commercial, video or TV Show)~~ Amandarin pointed out that my AbPony infommercial counted for this one.

Get cast in a Theatre show (for adults, with at least 2 week run)

Get VO demo done

Get VO Agent!

~~Finally reach 1000 hrs at USH~~ REMOVED: Because of job and teacher training, I have left USH

~~Investigate Dee’s class~~ REMOVED: Just not interested in this anymore.

Finances

~~Start saving for retirement~~ YAY! Started my 401K April07

~~Get a Day Job that doesn’t suck my soul dry, and still pays well~~ Whoo hoo!

Have excess finances such that Travel is possible- working on this

Stop living Paycheck to Paycheck!- working on this

Have Finances available for EATM program (yes, student loans and grants count)

~~Find money for SoulTree Teacher Training~~ Paying for teacher training by bartering hours at Soul Tree

Get 90K mile check up on Most Honorable Honda-San

Pay off the money I owe my parents!- in progress

Finish up loan payments with Auriton- in progress

NEW- Pay off other debts

Spiritual

~~Begin Energy work to clear blocks (particularly to body image & finances)~~ I'm working with a healer on this now.

Make Meditation a ~~daily~~ weekly practice

~~Swim with Dolphins!~~ DONE! *sigh* have I mentioned how much I looooooooove Hawaii??

Trance Dance at some sort of Festival

Experience lucid dreaming

Allow myself to get REALLY VERY ANGRY. Become OK with anger. Eek,I've been working on this one. It's a little scary

Manifestations of Material Goods

~~Find living space that feeds the soul but doesn’t rape the bank account~~ Oddly enough, my own apartment is becoming this again. Yay!

Buy a dance pole!

~~I-pod (or equally fantastic MP3 player)~~ With tax rebate, April 2006

~~New TV~~ Oct 2005 (a gift from the Hottie)

~~New Cell Phone~~ Sept 2005

Buy DVD player

~~Get that Jack LaLane super juicer thing that I’ve been coveting on Infomercials for ever.~~ DONE!! Tag and I look forward to christening it soon.

~~Throw out dinosaur currently masquerading as home computer and get NEW one that works (and does what you need it to)~~ DONE. Old computer gone, and I bought my first laptop just after Christmas 07.

Buy one of those GORGEOUS leather corsets I see at Faire each year.

Entertainment

Read all the books on my “borrowed from friends” pile

~~Find “The Vanishing Room” and give it back to M & B~~ DONE

Rent/Watch “The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra”

~~Buy “LOTR” trilogy on DVD.~~ DONE

~~See “Sin City”~~ Fall 2005

~~Write my own song to perform with band~~ REMOVED: Sadly band is no longer around

Find and attend a rave (cause I’m craving one of those!)

~~Buy “Las Vegas” season 1 on DVD~~ REMOVED: just not interested anymore

~~Visit a Dungeon~~ DONE

Learn to dance the Tango

General

~~Get rid of that damn ugly ass loveseat~~ DONE DONE DONE

~~While I’m at it, get rid of that horrible easy chair too~~ DONE

Sort thru the boxes in the Guest Bedroom In Progress- Tag and I spent our holidays working on this

NEW- Re-do Guest Room into Tag's office space. We worked on this all holiday long, and it's coming along nicely

NEW- Paint bedroom

Finish and send in volunteer application for Wildlife Waystation!

~~NEW- Volunteer with Best Friends Sanctuary in Utah~~ Done, and it was life changing.

~~Go back to getting waxed (I hate shaving so very very much)~~ Rio, Baby!!

~~Treat myself to a day at the spa~~ Done, June 07- Palm Springs

~~Get my hair color re-done (roots aren’t pretty)~~ Done

Catch up on your back filing at the house!

~~Properly garden~~ An ongoing process, but the plants are doing well.

~~Make a plate of cookies for Christina.~~ I brought her flowers instead

Gather art from all various storage places and put it in all in one spot where I can find it.

Frame Muth doodle

Frame “Haunted Mansion” cat picture

~~Frame mermaid art~~ Many of these pieces are now up (another Holiday project)

~~Go thru the kitchen fridge and pantry and throw out all the stuff I am never going to eat (i.e. if it moved to this apartment with me 6 years ago and I haven’t eaten it… it can probably go)~~ Prep for the detox made me toss old bad foods

Prepare “Emergency kit” (with non-perishable foods, change of clothes, food and water for cats)

~~Develop the rest of the film from my trip to Hawaii (in ’03)~~DONE

Skydive

Sell figurines and other such collectibles I no longer want on E-bay.

~~Sell that old wedding dress that Sonny left on E-bay.~~ OK, we didn't sell it, but we got it out of the damn house.

~~Learn to hang up on Jackasses~~ Better yet, design my life so i just don't hang out with them anymore. :)

Finish knitting my (I’m a super geek) Ravenclaw house scarf!

Write 5 more poems. 4 done so far. Our Love is like a Dead Squirrel , Me Carve Pretty Someday, Haiku for Tag as well as Still life in Yellow & Black

Submit at least one of those poems to a poetry contest

~~Call or email Dino and see how he is doing.~~ DONE

~~Send card to Brandy, check in on her.~~ DONE, and I hope to visit her soon

~~Send a card to my Grandparents~~ Thankfully got this done before my Grandmother passed.

Put together and box up all old journals (in date order)

Finish writing this Damn List THANK YOU! completed Aug 15, 2005

NEW- Finish DOING this Damn List

Toodles to Two-oh-oh-Seven

2007-12-31T13:37:00.000-08:00

Amandarin has a yearly tradition of "the year in review" utilizing the following 40 questions. I like them and thus will gak them here, as a way to "wrap up" 2007 and send it on its way.

1) Was 2007 a good year for you?
It wasn’t all the ZIP, BAM, WOW that I was hoping for, but it had some great moments, and I think it laid some really good groundwork for 2008.

2) What was your favorite moment of the year?
There are many: Swimming with Sea Turtles in Honaunau; Watching the Pu’u O’o vent erupting against the night sky; Surrounding myself with the cats of the “Kitty Motel” at Best Friends.

3) What was your least favorite moment of the year?
Anxiety attacks; one of my BFF’s moving far away with hubby and baby; leaving Spuds at Best Friends that last cold morning.

4) Where were you when 2007 began?
Slack’s living room, trying to hold an inebriated Tag upright!

5) Who were you with?
Some of the coolest peeps in Hollywood blogdom.

6) Where will you be when 2007 ends?
Plans are to be at Slack & BetheBoy’s. I’ll probably be supporting Tag again too… if his plane lands as expected. *frets*

7) Who will you be with when 2007 ends?
See 5

8) Did you keep your New Year's resolution of 2007?
I don’t follow all the rules of “resolution”… but I do think that I followed through on plans and moved forward in several areas of my life.

9) Do you have a New Year's resolution for 2008?
FIND & FOLLOW MY BLISS

10) Did you fall in love in 2007?
Just a little bit more everyday

11) If yes, with whom?
Him (oh… and him)

12) If yes, do they know?
Yes

13) Are you still in love with them?
Madly

14) Do you regret it?
Nope

15) Did you breakup with anyone in 2007?
Not that I can think… but I will be ending one crappy relationship soon.

16) Did you make any new friends in 2007?
LOTS

17) Who are your favorite new friends?
Dancer, Charlotte, Mouse, Scooter, HoneyBear & all the beautiful souls at the Kitty Motel

18) What was your favorite month of 2007?
It's all one big blur

19) Did you travel outside of the US in 2007?
*sigh* nope

20) How many different states did you travel to in 2007?
5 (if you count my CA travels to Palm Springs and Monteray)

21) Did you lose anybody close to you in 2007?
No, I was blessed once again

22) Did you miss anybody in the past year?
Yes, several people who for one reason or another have left my life.

23) What was your favorite movie that you saw in 2007?
We really enjoyed “Surf’s Up” LOL! I also liked “Music & Lyrics”, “Pride”, “Eastern Promises” & “Ratatouille”. I have not seen, but am totally looking forward to “Sweeney Todd” and “The Water Horse”

24) What was your favorite song from 2007?
um... I’m so bad at this sort of thing. This year, I fell in love with the song “Daughter” by Vienna Tang. (however, she released it in 2002)

25) What was your favorite record from 2007?
*draws a blank*

26) Did you see any concerts this year?
Um… I don’t think so. I’m not much of a concert girl. However, Tag may have dragged me to something (then again, that might have been 2006)

27) Did you have a favorite concert in 2007?
see above

28) Did you drink a lot of alcohol in 2007?
LOL… it would seem that way, since I can’t remember a damn thing!

29) Did you do a lot of drugs in 2007?
They all come in bottles with prescriptions on the front.

30) Did you hope for something you didn't get in 2007?
yes, but I’m still moving forward in pursuit of that goal

31) Did you do anything you are ashamed of this year?
Not all my moments were shiny and glorious, but I don’t think I’m ashamed of anything.

32) What was the biggest lie you told in 2007?
“No, I really enjoy working with you. Really”

33) What was the worst lie someone told you?
“I feel great. I’ve done all my work and I’m ready to move forward. There is definately going to be some changes around here."

34) Did you treat somebody badly in 2007?
I don’t think so, and certainly hope not.

35) Did somebody treat you badly in 2007?
Yes, and they will be sorry in about 3 weeks.

36) How much money did you spend in 2007?
BUNCHES. I was paying off a LOT of my debts.

37) What was your proudest moment of 2007?
I pulled off a lot of difficult feats at the office. Looking back, I’m proud of what I contributed to the special events at work.

38) What was your most embarrassing moment of 2007?
Crying like a 4 yr old having a tantrum, as I sat on the ice on the bunny hill, during my first ever day of snowboarding.

39) If you could go back in time to any moment of 2007 and change something, what would it be?
Can I please just be brilliant at snowboarding on the first try? That would be cool

40) What are your plans for 2008?
Big Changes. New Communications. Follow the bliss and get the f’k out of LA.

Rainy Beverage Spazebas

2007-12-18T15:25:00.000-08:00

Last night, Slack and BetheBoy hosted a small Blogger gathering at Bar Lubitsch. Tag and I braved the rainy LA streets (and the hideous LA drivers) in hopes of stepping out and getting to know some fabu new folks. Mission Accomplished! Not only did we get to meet Randi, Mike, Leyla (and her honey), Annika and Rachel, but I also got the chance to taste my first absinthe.

Please understand that the night gets very hazy from that point.

I do have the unfortunate recollection of stopping at Del Taco sometime after midnight. If the smell of the car this morning is any indicator, we apparently ordered two overly ripe and really dead forest creatures who had recently frolicked through industrial waste. Oh, and a small Cherry Coke.

Gastrointestinal issues and wicked strange dreams aside, it was a lovely evening. Thank you to all who participated. I look forwards to the next eclectic gathering.

Another Year in the Body

2007-12-17T15:27:00.001-08:00

Well, I popped on Blogger last Thursday, in a brief attempt to jot down words to immortalize the passing of yet another year. However, my birthday makes me annually cranky AND the massive company holiday party (of which I was in charge) was last Thursday night, so instead of fluid writing, I had halting moments of verbal constipation, interrupted by "urgent" requests from co-workers.

However, I awoke Friday morning with the Muse sitting on my bed. It's been a while since I arose with a poem building itself in my head, so I rushed for paper and a pen to scratch down the morning's first utterances.

What came out was unlike any of my previous poetry. Usually, I am a fan of free verse, unrhyming and arrhythmic. This piece stirs the memory of beat poetry, more appropriate to a poetry slam than an online reading. Its style is clearly inspired by some of the Sage Francis works that I have been listening to lately.

No matter how odd the phrasing may be for me, the feeling behind it is clearly one inspired by birthday blues. It gives voice to the fury of futile attempts to defy aging and keep up American society's flawed definition of beauty. Directionless rage, turned within, damaging body and soul.

Me Carve Pretty Someday

gotta pain buzzin’ underneath my skin
rage & slice, drag it out from within
Put it on show
Let everyone know
Fat ugly insides, jiggling round there

Television, magazine
Teaching me to purge
Fighting to be clean
Get it out, set it free
Stab into the real me
Flay & peel
Defy what’s real
Till I’m standing there
in nothing
but my BONES

then wrap my bones in skin
hold me up
call me thin
RAGE
at time, age and gods’ design
cut, pull, tuck & suck
tiny girls are good to fuck
spray adhesive just to hold it all in place
no lines allowed on my titties or my face
draggin’, pullin’, cutting, fightin’
still losing time’s cruel race
I’m so dry and tight
I’m wearing BEEF JERKY

looking in the mirror
still hating what I see
paintbrush and exact-o knife
create ‘the perfect me’
blood red, my color
bringin’ out my eyes
small cuts, band-aid hidden
distract me from my thighs

Screaming to the godless sky
Make me pretty or make me die

Screaming to the godless sky
Make me pretty or let me try

Screaming to the godless sky
Make me Pretty
Make me Pretty
Pretty
PRETTY
Please

Grab the frilly edge scissors and a dying hope
Like a 3rd graders’ snowflake
Gonna carve myself pretty

**DISCLAIMER: No folks, I'm not suicidal. I'm not even angry today... just OVER IT, ya know? Worry not, I'll be fine.

Obligation & the Last Few Weeks

2007-12-06T12:06:00.000-08:00

Some time ago, I put on my side bar that small icon with the raven that says B.W.O. It stands for “blogging without obligation,” which I believe to be a great concept. Too often, I hear the tale of a blogger who began writing as an exploration of self, and continues as a need to please the reading audience. Blogs have a way of taking on a life of their own, morphing and becoming unrecognizable to the writer. I wanted to state my intention to not fall prey to that phenomenon.

However, I then signed up for NaBloPoMo , during which the goal is to post every day for a month. I signed up with the best of intentions, hoping that I would be inspired to communicate more frequently. Instead, I began to immediately feel the pressing weight of obligation. Quantity over quality seemed the result and I found myself resenting showing up at the blog. That was not my intention, and so I let myself off the hook and gave myself the permission to post as needed.

It didn’t hurt/help that November was a crazed month, filled with stress at work and then a wonderful vacation far away from computers. Hell, far away from cell phone reception or most of society. Tag and I spent the week of Thanksgiving volunteering at Best Friends Animal Society in Kanab, Utah.

If you’ve never been to Southern Utah, I highly recommend the trip. Zion and Bryce National Parks are some of the most beautiful places I’ve ever hiked. There is magic in their deep red rock formations, and a quiet thrum of vibrational energy that affects me body and soul. Not far north, there is both Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park. 100 miles to the south is the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. In short, if you like being outside, awestruck by Mother Nature’s talent for architecture, Southern Utah is Paradise.

Angel Canyon and Kanab are in what is called the Golden Circle, a centrally located resting point between Zion, Bryce, North Rim and Lake Powell. Best Friends owns 3,800 acres in the canyon, and leases several more from the Bureau of Land Management. On this chunk of land, they run the largest no-kill animal sanctuary in the country. Housing literally thousands of dogs, cats, bunnies, horses, burros, pigs and birds, they are sure to tug at the heart strings of any animal lover. The volunteer program starts with a heart-warming video and orientation, wherein you set up your schedule for each day you are available. We chose to spend each morning session (8:15 – Noon) working with Dogs, starting with Puppy Socialization class for the first 30 min. Our afternoons were mostly spent working in Cat Town, except for Wednesday which was spent in the Triple R Rabbit Retreat.

Duties can range from dog walking, pet grooming, playing and petting, to kennel cleaning and poop scooping. As much as I love animals, I did wonder whether or not I could spend my day off covered in feces and dirt and still feel like I was on vacation. Answer: Hell yes, I can! So much so that I’ve applied for a job at Best Friends and am seriously considering moving myself to that tiny town.

Animals never cease to amaze me, with their ability to forgive and forget. Particularly these animals, so many of which have been abused or abandoned. Sure, there are a few like Filly and Tobie (rescues from Hurricane Katrina) who walk on leash as far from you as they can… but even they are learning to take food from their caregiver’s hands. The process of recovering trust can be slow going, but these sweet creatures have not given up completely.

Words fail me when I try to capture what I experienced there. I can only say that I was happy. Happier than I’ve been in a while. It felt like a part of me that has been missing for a few years now was able to make a fleeting appearance. Best Friends is not only healing for the animals. It’s healing for the people who spend time there too. And as a butterfly sends a wind around the world, so does that little bit of focused healing cause a shift in the energies of Earth and all her children. It is Best Friends' philosophy that kindness towards animals is one step towards healing our planet, and I agree. And if you are not, in some portion of your life, creating a more positive tomorrow…what are you doing?

The desk job weighs even more heavily on me now than it did before. My soul, which felt leaden, has now darkened to numb. Add to that the fact that office politics and fragile egos have stirred up a mess of drama which left me broken and sobbing last Thursday night. I wake each morning with that sense of dread, that heavy weight of obligation rattling like ball & chain around my ankle.

There is a line in Parenthood, in which Steve Martin’s character says, “My whole life is HAVE TO.” I don’t want to wake up one day and find that is my life. Or perhaps, I’ve already had that waking moment. This LA life does not feed my soul. Its cluttered streets and angry people tear at my already tattered edges. In the quiet of Angel Canyon, I found a lightness of being that I have not felt in a long while. Although there were tasks to do, some unpleasant and challenging, there was never that foreboding sense of “have to.” There was choice and there was joy and there was a vibration of healing in each soft muzzle. Each time this office job pulls me to tears, I open up these pictures and remind myself of the great souls that I have had the pleasure to meet and to love.

Letting the Cat Out- In Two Parts

2007-11-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

Part 1- PSA

Lately, I have seen around my neighborhood a number of "Lost Cat" signs. My heart goes out to anyone who has lost a beloved pet. I know that sometimes they escape through the door as you bring in groceries, or they push their way out a screen and run loose. Animals are quirky creatures who love to be free. However, many times I find that the lost pet was left outside, to come and go at will, with little thought of protection or responsibility of ownership. I find this infuriating.

Look kids, the average life span of an outdoor cat is something like 4 - 6 years, while the lifespan of an indoor cat is more than twice that. Los Angeles is a huge city, crawling with cars, and wild creatures, and people who suck. When you let your domesticated pet outside unsupervised, you are tempting fate and should not be surprised if you find yourself one pet short very quickly. Traffic is a killer. And don't even get me started on the assholes who get kicks out of torturing, poisoning or otherwise brutalizing pets. There are those who will not think twice about leaving anti-freeze in a dog's water dish, lighting fire to a kitten's head, or shooting your puppy so full of b.b.'s that it bleeds slowly to death while you are at work. (and for the record: all of the atrocities that I just listed have happened to animals of people I know.)

Those of you that live outside of cities are not in the clear either. Coyotes regularly patrol for meals around dawn and dusk, as do other hunters. I've even had a woman I know lose a smaller cat to an owl or hawk. (We knew it was some bird of prey, because other of her larger cats had talon punctures.) Growing up in Florida, I can attest to the fact that gators and snakes will also do quite the number on your little furry friends.

To sum up, if you take the time to own a pet... take the responsibility to care for and protect its life. Tend to their illness and injuries like you would your own, and don't leave a domesticated animal outside to their own defences. Especially especially if you have children who are attached to them. Because some memories never completely fade, like sitting in your mother's arms, weeping over the body of what was 15 minutes and one car ago, a beloved family member.

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

Part 2- Confessions

My parents are happily married, but will often tell you that one of the secrets to a life long commitment is the occasional separate vacation. Therefore, although my Father will not visit until next Spring... my Mother will be here tomorrow night.

I love my parents dearly, and I know that they love me. They have wonderful senses of humor and warm, loving hearts. However, we have differences of opinion on many things, not the least of which is "what is appropriate" or "smart" regarding my forms of self-expression. I like to put cute girly stickers on my car, which makes Dad a little crazy. I dress & behave in a way that has more than once made Mom question my values. This is not an uncommon rift between young women and their parents, and I'm in no way disparaging mine. That being said, it is time to let the cat out of the bag on a few items, so that Mom is forewarned, and Dad knows without having to hear the report from her later on.

1. I have new haircut. It's short and can actually be spiked up into what is called a "faux-hawk". I can also wear it down, accented with cute little clips. Either way, it is fairly cute.

2. I have a new tattoo.

3. I have a BIG new tattoo.

4. I have big new tattoo in a really obvious place.

So go ahead, roll your eyes. Take that moment to be horrified and wonder what the hell possessed me to do that. Get it out of your system now, while you're on the East coast... so that when you're here with me, you can be with me, as I am: your 35 yr old daughter with "boho fashion" sense and a predilection towards body modification and art. While we're at it, let's remember that although I teach 6 - 8 hours of dance a week, I still weigh more than you've ever seen me weigh before. I know it. You don't have to point it out, please and thank you.

Alrighty kids, I think that's all the dirty laundry I have to put out there today.

Happy Monday to you!

Do you think they meant that?

2007-11-08T14:13:00.000-08:00

Let me get this straight... This is a diner wherein I can only get breakfast and lunch? Is it safe to assume that they close too early for me to go in and purchase any sort of dinner?

Or could it be that this is a case of not proofreading that sign order closely enough?

P.S. They were closed up tight at 11:30am, so clearly breakfast wasn't an available option today. Which reduces their wares to lunch only. Hrmmm, that seems pretty boutique for a NoHo eatery.

Quick Update & a Good Chuckle

2007-11-07T17:09:00.000-08:00

So, day 7 of NaBloPoMo. I've been having a bit of a dilemma, as the "post a day" requirement seems to be leading me towards quantity, not quality. Therefore, I've taken to spreading my posts around. If they are either entertaining or insightful (at least in my opinion), they go here. If they are whiny or fraught with neurosis, they get put into my livejournal. If they are simply "look- I posted," then I put them on my page on the NaBloPoMo site. This is in hopes of keeping tedium to a minimum here at CNR.

That being said, today's post is a link to a website that made me giggle most heartedly. I hope you will make with the clicky-clicky and give yourself a good chuckle.

Overheard at the Office

2007-11-05T18:52:00.000-08:00

The Homecoming Queen is in her office, on the phone. Clearly it's a domestic call, becuase I just overheard:

"Oh shit Grandma, you're spending money like a crazy person."

It made me giggle.

Slam-packed Saturday

2007-11-04T17:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Day 3 of NaBloPoMo (that's National Blog Posting Month, for those not in the know). The only goal for the month- to post at least once every day. And yet, Day 3... no post.

I could just sigh and give up, having missed an entry so early on in the race. Or I could quickly ramble on with some justification/explanation. I have chosen the latter.

Saturday morning began as many of them do. My alarm went off early, so that I could head down to Redondo to teach at the studio. A quick stop at the 7-11 for my "Green Machine" Naked Juice, and I was on my way. Early Saturday and Sunday mornings are one of the few times that you can enjoy the LA freeways with little or no traffic, and thankfully yesterday was no exception. I made it to the studio approximately 20 min before my 10 a.m. class started.

4 hours and 2 classes later, I had to close up shop and rush to Venice for hair coloring supplies. Finding parking in Venice on a warm sunny Saturday is impossible, so I paid some nice fellow $5 for a parking spot I used for 10 minutes. 5 tubs of Manic Panic color later, I jumped back in the car and headed to the domicile of my BFF Dreamschool. She's in massage school and needs practice student. My overly stressed, anxiety-ridden body posed some interesting challenges. Or as she said, "Your muscles mock my Swedish relaxation technique." Still, I'm not one to say no to a free massage, and I definitely did appreciate 70 min of downtime.

Wow. This post is boring. Sorry.

5:15 and I had to jump off the table and head to my hair appt. Julie at Shampoo Lounge is a genius with color, and currently I'm lavender with a bright pink ring around the hairline. I've also got a sassy new super short cut. I asked for something new, and definitely got it. Now I just have to figure out how to style it on an everyday basis.

Bleaching, plus coloring, plus cut, dry and style takes a bit of time, and it was 10:15 before I headed out, to join Shazam for her birthday celebrations. I'd already missed her dinner, but figured that I might be able to make the 11 p.m. comedy show that she was attending, if I rushed north on the 405 AND met with no traffic. A laughable concept on a weekend night, but I guess the gods were with me, because I found myself in North Hollywood a remarkable 25 minutes later. I sidled up to Shazam in the seat she'd saved for me in the front row and chuckled my way through the late show.

However, by the time I got out, it was after midnight... and I'd missed the posting deadline for the day. I staggered home (which I'd not been to since 9 a.m.), fed my ravenous cats, checked out my questionable visage in the mirror, and then gave up the ghost and slept. Despite the fact that Tag is out of town, I slept long and deeply, not waking until nearly noon this afternoon. Then I got up, did the dishes, watched some movies, cuddled with the fur-children. In short, I actually had rest Sunday. Yay!

No great revelations for the weekend. But sometimes, in my crazy life, a quiet normal weekend is an unexpected gift. Hope yours was also pleasant!

Just a Quick Note...

2007-11-02T17:12:00.001-07:00

... to wish my father a Very Happy 60th Birthday.

He claims to be feeling old. This from the man who hiked the Grand Canyon (for the FIRST time) in honor of his 50th birthday. A few years ago, he white water rafted into the canyon and then hiked out again. Needless to say, mine is a zesty family.

Hope you tip back a glass of good Romanian merlot, Dad. While I may have referred to you as "the grouchy old man" a time or two, the emphasis was NEVER on "old". *wink*

The Dark Times

2007-11-01T14:46:00.000-07:00

November 1st. All Saints’ Day. Dios de los Muertos. A beautiful celebration of the life that we find, even in death. A time to remember those who have passed. To celebrate and honor those who came before.

Recognized as the Pagan New Year, Hallows (or Samhain) is the entrance into the Dark Time. “Caldron Time," I've heard some call it. When days grow shorter and nights grow longer, we are supposed to use that quiet night to drop deeper into ourselves, slow things down, and reflect. We are the seed under the snow, waiting for the return of the light to give us strength and energy to grow.

However, for me, it can also be a dark time in other ways. My cyclical depression raises its ugly head, and makes daily life challenging. I was diagnosed way back in the day (when I was 15), before it was a commonplace diagnosis. Chucked into therapy and eventually put on Prozac (which only made things MUCH worse), depression became the albatross around my neck.

For many years, I have fought it and worked with it. I have used yoga, meditation, herbs, spirituality and just plain stubbornness to win my life back from the condition. Most of the time, I do ok. But every few years, the situation goes beyond my ability to deal with, and I have to seek medical help. I don’t like the chemicals and the side effects, but the other option is just as unpleasant. The moods are starting to negatively affect the quality of my life. It’s getting past the point where I can function normally.

This most recent bout of numbness has also been fraught with anxiety. Panic attacks wake me in the middle of the night. Unreasonable fears assault me when I’m out in the open. The other night, I was celebrating the holiday with friends, when suddenly I thought I was going to throw up, right there in the park. My head was spinning. My heart was pounding. All I wanted to do was rage and scream and run home and hide. I continued to breathe, and slowly it passed… but the time it took to do so was oddly distorted, like watching a movie slightly out of focus, in which I am starring, but have no control over the action. It was terrifying.

Needless to say, living with someone like this is a laugh a minute riot, and poor Tag is struggling. This is a man who picks up on my PMS and gets moody with me. Therefore, you can only imagine how his sensitivity is reacting to the screaming banshee that is currently inhabiting his girlfriend. My decision to go back on meds is as much for him as it is for me. I’d like to better the quality of both our lives, bring a little peace and happiness back to our home.

It is scary to be lost like this, to feel the growing fear gnawing on me each day. It is how I would imagine it feels to be eaten slowly by a giant invisible monster. I shall take with me many tools into the belly of that beast, and hope it doesn’t all turn to crap on the other side.

And so the wheel turns.

Returning

2007-10-18T19:22:00.000-07:00

Nobody wants to leave paradise. Adam and Eve were not known for any sort of celebratory march out of the gates. Milton didn’t write Paradise: Meh, I’ll get there again eventually. Generally, the point is to get INTO Paradise, not out of it… so you can imagine the sad sense of dread that filled my stomach as I heard the wheels of the plane thud onto the tarmac at LAX.

Hawai’i was, as always, gorgeous beyond words. The Big Island continuously amazed me with the many ways in which it is different from Oahu, or, really, any place I’d ever been before. I blossomed in its rain forests, shivered in the magnificence of its volcanoes, and gloried in its endless blue seas. I slept deeply, lulled by assorted calls of wildlife. I woke each morning pre-dawn and watched light creep across the skies through the branches of the giant monkeypod tree that umbrellas over the resort like a protective spirit. And I swam with dolphins and turtles and a 100 other colorful denizens of the deep… over and over again.

Needless to say, I’m still adjusting to being back. The desk is restrictive and not near any windows and my heart just isn’t back at the office. Tag and I had a few conversations during which we seriously considered what we would need to do, and how we would have to work, in order to permanently relocate. It would be some years down the road, but it would be extraordinarily worth it.

If ever you get the chance to travel to Hawaii, please don’t deny yourself the experience.

However, until that boat comes in… please feel free to enjoy some of the scenery.

Aloha

2007-10-09T16:16:00.000-07:00

(as defined by answers.com)
aloha from Hawaiian

Hawaii's best-known export is not sugar, pineapples, or Kona coffee, but a word: aloha. It is much more than a greeting; on the islands, it is a way of life. Hawaii's businesses include Aloha Fresh Flowers, Aloha Surfboards, Aloha Bicycle Tours, Aloha Quilts, Aloha Spirit Coffee, Aloha Candy and Card Company, and Aloha Beautiful Hawaii Weddings. There is an Aloha United Way, a football game called the Aloha Bowl, and a shirt and a day of the week dedicated to aloha. Summing up, one islander says aloha means "Hello, goodbye, love, compassion, welcome, good wishes. It means belonging to others with a common humanity. It's defined better as a feeling in the heart than by words."

How can you get the feeling? The "Live Aloha" website offers these practical suggestions:

Leave places better than you find them.
Hold the door. Hold the elevator.
Plant something.
Drive with courtesy. Let others in.
Get out and enjoy nature.

I intend to get my aloha on by flying to Kona with Tag, resting our souls in a treehouse bedroom, and in general, allowing myself 6 blissful days of not worrying about paperwork, politics or other random bullshit that has invaded my life as of late.

Take care of yourselves and I'll chat at you in a week.

On Rats and Women

2007-10-02T18:02:00.000-07:00

They say that loose lips sink ships, and that rats will leave a sinking vessel. Therefore, I am wondering if a loose-lipped rodent isn't really causing its own problems? Sort of a self-fulfilling prophesy of doom.

To which I'm sure you promptly replied, "huh?"

That's where my mind is today. Confused and dark. Reaching for sense of it all and coming up with some sort of scrambled goo, black and icky.
***************************************************************************
I recently received some information. In the sick world of telephone games, it is once removed from the origin. However, it is from an eyewitness and a credible source.

Someone I once trusted has (as of late) had some serious personality changes. (I've seen a few of them myself.) I fear that she too is traveling to a dark and scary place. However, instead of seeking help, she plays the victim and lashes out nastily at others.

Where once I had a case of 'hero worship', I now find myself facing the human. I don't want to let the fact that I idolized her be the source of my disappointment. Nor do I really want to look at the fact that she may not be a very nice person after all.

I want to come at the situation from a place of love. I don't want to be reactionary. However, I cannot help but feel foolish that I ever felt safe with her. I cannot escape the feelings of abuse and betrayal that I am now experiencing. I cannot (and will not) deny that I am both hurt and angry. This is my stuff... I get that. But "getting it" doesn't make processing it any more pleasant.

Some people say that I should wait. Stick it out. Hang in there. They long to believe that this is just a temporary phase, and soon, the situation will magically remedy itself.

However, history has a habit of repeating itself, and I've seen the pattern of behavior before. Both in her past and in mine. I want to believe that this will pass without incident. But my life experiences seem only to point otherwise.

Do I stand by and believe? Do I wait it out? And when the hit comes, and I am curled in a ball by the wall, crying with the ugly truth of it all... can I blame anyone but myself for still being within arms' reach?

When does it stop being "hope", and just become "denial"?

I tell my students to nurture others, but not at the cost of nurturing yourself. For what good can you provide if you are too weak, too sick, too wounded to do so? Yet here I stand, unhappy, trying to believe in better. Contemplating staying around to provide nurturing for her (and others), at the cost of my own health and happiness. I despise playing the martyr. I want to "walk my talk", but in this case, that seems to mean walking away. That prospect is equally unpleasant.

Rats leave a sinking ship... sometimes I wonder if I have that same survival instinct.

Sunday Scribblings: Hi, My Name Is...

2007-09-22T08:16:00.000-07:00

I stare in to the mirror and draw a blank. Before me, a woman drowing. I run so fast, I don't know where I am when standing still. Wear so many hats, I've lost touch of who is here hatless. Reality can't hit a moving target and denial makes a fantastic running partner.

Hi, my name is... Perpetual Motion.

The first day I sat in the office of my very first (and still my favorite) therapist, she said, "Tell me about yourself." Without thought or hestiation, I launched into a diatribe of attributes (physical and personality), giving the root foundation for each. "Mother's eyes, Father's nose.... Father's angry mumble and Mother's prediliction for clutter."

Years later, that shrink confided "I had never met anyone with so little sense of self." But they do affect us, don't they? The Nature and the Nurture. They all have their say. From gods to parents, from peers to societal norms- every level has a few more rules and guidelines. Everyone says "Don't." Everyone says "Shouldn't." Everyone defines "Appropriate" for you, until you come to this place: Jane Doe, living in AnyCity, USA... and those few simple definitions give you a whole rule book of "supposed to."

Hi, My Name is..... Boxed In

We each have fantasies and hopes. Dreams that we struggle to keep feeding, trapped in the shoebox, hidden in the closet. We sneak it bread crumbs and the brocolli we hid in our napkin. And for what? The having of a hope makes the keen edge of not realizing it even more painful to endure. Then again, what is the other option?

Hi, My Name is.... Despair?

Like a 13 year old, I sit glowering "if only you knew..."
- what I really want to do
- what I really CAN do- if only you'd let me. If only I'd let myself

Hoodies with skirts and knee-high fuzzy boots and BigDog comments "One of the many perks of having Teece in the office that you never know what you'll get with.... (*pause* searching for the word)

A co worker suggest, "her avant-guard style??"

BigDog continues, "... her adventurous take on fashion."

I smile. I shrug. I giggle. I search and hold tight to the compliment, trying to purge from my mind Mitzi, who defined my junior year with the wicked words, "You don't have money and you dress weird. Now go away, we don't need your opinon."

My other boss, she recently looked at my hair, now shades of lavender and said, "I like this one. It's.... (*pause* searching for the word) subtle." Something I have never been by nature. Again I smile. I thank her. I try not read the sneer on her lips.

Hi, My Name is... Unappreciated? Misunderstood? Weird.

Today, I have classes to teach. How can I tell those women to love their bodies, to embrace themselves just as they are if I can't leave these demons on the page? They say "We teach best what we most need to learn," but I haven't figured out how.

Bewildered
Frustrated
Angry, deep within.

I am a volcano ready to erupt
I am a villager, living the in fearful shadow of the volcano
I am the village dog, chained and unaware

Hi, My Name is... (*pause* searching for the word)

Avast! It snuck up on me...

2007-09-19T10:09:00.001-07:00

... but thanks to that snazzy radio dj, I remembered that it was

I be wearin' my jolly roger shirt and wishin' y'all a fierce and fabulous day.

(hrmmmm... i bet pirates don't say "fabulous," do they? *oops*)

Intentional Drowning

2007-09-11T08:03:00.000-07:00

"Your body is drowning."

"What?" I asked, somewhat startled.

The soft Asian face tilted up towards me, her look pensive as she sought for the words to explain. "Your body...it is... drowning. Too much fluid. Is holding.... um, retaining."

Oh, yes... that. I'm retaining water. I'm bloated. Twas a combo of PMS, stress, and bizarre temperatures. And apparently, unknown to me, a great deal of extra mucus in my lungs and sinuses. Through the miracles of acupuncture and herbal teas, I've been draining profusely ever since. Breathing is easier, but my nose is still recovering from the repeated blowings and tissue wipes.

But it is her words that still stay with me. Drowning. I am drowning. Never has a diagnosis felt so right on the money.

Working two jobs can be overwhelming. And the teaching, although it is wonderful to experience, is growing in hours and demanding on the voice and body. I often feel that my most fierce doggie-paddle just barely keeps my head above the surface.

More than that, as of late, dreams and signs are filled with underwater images and icons. My long time love for mermaids has grown into a nearly obsessive fascination. I hear the sirens call me towards the rocks anytime I see their images (and I'm currently reading a fascinating book on the subject as well.) Octopi (octopuses?) are everywhere. Painted graffiti on the street, Discovery shows that happen to be on when I turn on the TV, books and fliers that chance to come across my desk. Even my dearest love (& subject of my first 6th grade research paper) Nessie has returned to my consciousness, lurking in the corners of my mind and popping up in unrelated conversations.

Until lately, I'd complained about feeling frozen or numb. My coven sister speculates that this new drowning sensation is merely the effects of the ice thaw.

Could that be it? Could it be that I'm coming through the winter of this endlessly long transition? Something in me broke in 2005, and I've not felt whole since. The experience has been 2 years of highs and lows and general angst without resolution, and I'd love to think that phase is finally wrapping-up. But drowning is an odd sensation. Not one of relief, but neither is it one of suffocation or panic. We breathed and lived in liquid within the womb. Is it possible to find that skill again, amidst a sea of uncertainty?

Water is essential

Water is affected by thought & intention

Water is in all life, all things

Water is the connection

I am mostly water

My world is mostly water

Can I sink into that, and find the way to live?

Pissy from the Heat

2007-09-04T09:56:00.000-07:00

Dearest Department of Water & Power,

I understand that I live in LA, a town fraught with self-indulgent people who do not listen to suggestions like "turn your AC up to 78 when you aren't at home" or "turn off lights you aren't using". So when our power shut down at 6pm on Friday, on the hottest weekend of the year, I tried to be understanding. We opened our windows (nearly useless without fans in them) and hoped for an errant breeze. We found our flashlights and sat in the darkened courtyard of our apartment building, sipping water and trying to think cool thoughts. It was challenging, but doable. Two hours later, when the power returned, we were most appreciative.

The fact this all repeated on Saturday was a little more annoying. Rumors of a blown transformer were whispered down the block, from one grassy courtyard to another. Still, two hours later in the steamy September evening, power returned, and fans could be restarted. Ice could be made in the freezer again. I longed to believe that you folks had some inkling of what you were doing, and I hoped that you, concerned about the overheated citizens of Los Feliz, were working towards preventing a repeat performance.

However, when we returned to our house on SUNDAY evening, to find the neighborhood once again dark and muggy, my patience began to wear thin. Even though the sun was gone, the temperature in the area was in the high 90s, with uncharacteristic humidity making it even more unbearable. I likely would have rained curses on your heads if my kind neighbor had not distracted me by pulling her laptop into the courtyard, and sharing downloaded episodes of "Californication" while we all drank luke-warm beer. My fury subsided as I watched David Duchovney do a lot of naughty things to half-dressed women.

At least it HAD, until I returned home last night (after teaching 2 hours of dance class) to a totally black and silent Los Feliz. Once again, some brilliant yahoo somewhere had blown something or improperly repaired a do-hickey. Theories ran wild amongst the overly-hot Angelenos as to the cause of the repeated outages, but the point for guessing why was passed for me. I just wanted it to end. Is that too much to ask, LA DWP?? That on the hottest weekend of the year, I have at least ONE day out of four during which I do not have to run a bath of cool water in which to sit!??

To add insult to injury, this last outage lasted from 8:30 last night until 7:30THIS MORNING!! We slept naked on sheet in the middle of the living room with the front door standing open, as it was the only way not to wake in our own personal puddles. The cats had bearly the energy to walk from one spot on the floor to another, before they collapsed in a furry heap. The ice bottle we put in the bunny's cage to help him regulate his temperature melted, and there's not more ice to replace it. And I won't even discuss the inside of my freezer, now a large lemony lake that used to be 4 "real juice" bars, because my blood pressure continues to rise each time I think about the massive cleaning/purging that now needs to be done in the refrigerator.

IN short, I really want to send you the thanks you deserve, because without your incompetence, I would never have been able to spend my Labor Day holiday IN HELL.

Many are the ways in which you suck!

With much loathing,
YummyT

If pictures are worth 1,000 words

2007-08-24T15:32:00.000-07:00

...then this link to my flikr should help make up for the fact that I haven't had time to chat.

Aug 10 & 11, in a much needed escape, I drove myself up the coast of California. I want to be alone with my thoughts, away the stress, and back in touch with simple beauty.

a quote from my journal along the way:

At the edge of the Earth, thar may be dragons....
but thar's no cell phone reception!

and I like it that way.

Hope you enjoy the photos. I promise to write more once my big Mouse Project has passed.

Saving Grace

2007-08-14T16:55:00.000-07:00

There are days when the office is just hideous, and the workload overwhelming, and you KNOW that you should put every single moment into the project you are working on, but your mind screams for a break...

and that's when the Universe is benevolent and shows you that flick has a brilliant "group" called Dogs in Pools

When I was younger, I had a dog. A beautiful old mutt of a dog, and she LOVED the pool.

These photos, and those memories, brought me the smile I needed today.

Long Live Love!!

2007-08-08T18:32:00.000-07:00

wow.... i can tell that i'm swamped with work, becuase i nearly let this date get past me. It wasn't until i was writing August 8th on a report at 6:32pm that i realized....

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MOM & DAD!

38 years (i think) of love

& all the laughter and challenges that come with it

Vanishing "ly"

2007-08-06T13:49:00.000-07:00

As I was driving to work this morning, I was subjected to a moment that is(unfortunately) growing more frequent in number. A moment, an occurrence, a... thing that gnaws on my consciousness, works my last nerve and downright irritates me.

It was a missing "ly".

Two DJ's were having a conversation with someone (sorry, I can't remember who), during which that person commented, "I do that bad."

"LY!" I piped up. "You do that BADLY."

Poor Tag is subjected to my grammar corrections on a regular basis. However, unless I'm asked to proof-read a document or listen to a public speaker practice, I try not to burst out like a schoolmarm for the general populace. (To my defence, I come by it naturally. My mother was a grammar/literature teacher for the first 30+ years of my life, and I was drilled on the ability to articulate both clearly and properly.)

I willingly admit that my sentence structure is not always the best, and my spelling can be downright deplorable. Add to that the fact that I'm slightly dyslexic, and type too quickly for my own good... and I'm sure that you can find more than a handful of errors in the archives of this blog.

However comma I still retain the ability to tell an adjective from an adverb.

For example: the tea can be bad (ill-flavored); the dog can be bad (poorly behaved); the paper can be bad (not enjoyable for reading), but that's probably because it was written (<-VERB) badly.

*sigh* Sorry to rant so, but it hurts my head when I hear it spoken incorrectly.

Helpful links:

Adverbs: definition, adverbs in history and other useful links (including a quiz)

the brilliant lyrics to Tom Lehere's "L-Y"

or best yet, sing along with Lolly, Lolly, Lolly

If it's an adverb we have it at Lolly's!

Bring along your old adjectives too, like slow, soft and sure.

We'll fit them out with our "l-y" attachment

And make perfectly good adverbs out of them!

Deathly Masqerade Teaching Hallows Bash Whirlwind of Activity

2007-07-26T17:03:00.000-07:00

or in other words: Why YummyTeece has been MIA in the blogosphere

I'm so tired. Seriously, a body cannot keep up this pace for long, and I'm about at the end of my physical rope. So let me try to catch you up, before I fall into another fog.

LOJ 2007
The annual Labyrinth of Jareth was Friday & Saturday July 13 & 14th. Although I would have loved to go both nights, I simply couldn't prep separate outfits for each night for both Tag and myself. As it is, we only pulled things off as we did because Tag's brilliant assistant offered to make his furry pants (tail included).

I think we did pretty well.

More fairy-folk photo fun can be found here.

Work Party Fun Time
This summer, like last, I headed the committee to throw our annual Employee Bash. Think... you and 5 of your closest friends throw a free-for-all for about 700 people. Only you aren't working with your closest friends. You're hosting the event with the help of a few co-workers who are as bogged down as you are. After weeks of planning, and couple of days just running around like a mad chicken, the event came off without a hitch. The food was well received; we didn't run out of alcohol; the salsa lessons and picture spots were a hit. And after it was all cleaned up, and I had a few drinks with co-workers to chat and make new friends, I collapsed into a heap where I would have stayed for 2 days, if only I didn't have to be up 7 hours later to participate in....

Teaching
I arrive on Saturdays at 9:30, to set up and prep for the 10am class, and once that begins, I'm moving non-stop until 2pm. 4 hours straight of challenging muscle articulations as well as a constant narrative stream, trying to explain the correct posture and what muscles we are currently working. Tag takes the car and goes surfing (just 10 min down the street from the studio). He comes back refreshed and invigorated. I finish feeling renewed, but also like I was just hit by a Mack truck. Needless to say, I let him drive the hour back in traffic to our homestead...

Life at Home
...which by this point in the week, is usually DESPERATE for a cleaning. I begin to sweep and change litter boxes, while Tag may clean the bunny cage, or do dishes. He's also aces with the laundry. This week however, he used the time to forage for a much needed and long overdue AIR CONDITIONER!! Whoo hoo! He spent the rest of the afternoon installing it, while I continued to work on the pigsty we call home. However, once the cool air kicked in, and my legs finally gave out, I fwumped onto our couch and watched an endless supply of CSI.

In fact, it was only once dusk began to fall, and I was sprawled happily did I realize that ...

Deathly Hallows ABSENCE
*GASP* ... my copy of the new HP (with it's "release date delivery" guarantee) was NO WHERE to be found. Already my hard-core Harry Potter compatriots were emailing me with "Let me know when you finish the book. I want to discuss." I began to track furiously, searching Amazon and UPS's website for any details that might help me locate the missing tome. However, twas to no avail. And that's probably best, because it's not like I have anytime to read a 700 page book. *sigh*

Aquarium Member Surf Party
Tag and I are members of the Aquarium of the Pacific, and as such, were invited to their 21+ Adult Surf Party. Alcoholic drinks, a live band with surfy tunes and a gentle child-free stroll around the gorgeous aquarium grounds. Time to pet the bat rays in the touch pond without being interrupted by screaming, crying, or an ice cream being smushed into your side by sticky little fingers who have no attached attention span. Now as tired as I was, I had no urge to go all the way down to Long Beach, but the evening turned out to be well worth it. Peaceful and lovely.

Teece contemplates her margarita by moonlight.

Wrapping Up

With all that behind us now, life can almost return to a normal pace; fraught with work issues and overwhelming schedules. I've still not read Harry Potter. I was over at Amandarin's last night, caring for her cats, and she had left her copy out for me to start. I sat on her couch and opened it... and began dropping off to sleep as I read page 1. I couldn't retain a sentence moments after I'd finished reading it, so I set the book aside and tried not to drool in my semi-comatose state. I hope to begin again this evening and make it at least through the first chapter. However, before that happens I have to pick up dry cleaning and take it to the theatre (oh yes, I'm on 8 weeks of laundry duty for my theatre group. Because I guess had some extra time in my schedule!!! eeek!)

In short:
"please excuse Yummyteece from school/work/blogging/life today as she was tired and not feeling well. Thank you."

Sunday Scribblings: Hair

2007-07-13T10:23:00.000-07:00

Ah hair, ever changing, ever growing. Hair allows us to metamorphose, like other creatures in the wild. My hair is the artist's brush with which I paint. Having a mood? Need to reinvent? Hair has a trendous gift of freedom, changing easily at a whim.

I remember helping my grandmother dye her incredibly long thick hair a deep rich brown. It was like a long flowing river of dark chocolate, mysterious and wonderously soft to the touch. I envied her hair, although I would NEVER have the patience to grow mine so long. I cannot committ to one hair style and color for such an extended period of time.

I began dying my hair in high school. People ask me what about my "natural color" and I tell them that I haven't seen it in so long, I can't tell you what it might look like. I point to the roots, coming out deep on my scalp and answer, "it would be something like that, I suppose."

I've been orange, brown, deep brown, red, hot red, auburn, "midnight cherry" and black. Most recently, I bleached it out and became a radient "cotten candy pink". This weekend, I will turn it electric green for the masked ball that I attend each year (don't worry Mom, it washes out.) Someday, I acutally long to shave it all off, and just start over fresh.

Hair is a canvas for expression. It is the easist way to change the girl in the mirror when I need a fresh perspective. Hair can be loud or soft, bright or muted. It can scream for attention, or whisper like gentle velvet in the dark of the night. Hair is sensual and sexy, messy and fun. Style it, spike it, do what you wish (as long as you properly condition and care for it's health). Hair can help you become a master of disguise and a mistress of intrigue. It holds in heat, shields out the sun, gives us a fringe to hide behind on the days we don't feel like meeting someone's eyes. It's touch can be smooth like silk, or bouncy with crisp curls. It seems a source of endless possibilities and sensory experiences.

Glimmer at the end of the day

2007-06-28T18:30:00.000-07:00

After another long slog through corporate red-tape and hypocrisy, an email made me remember how good it feels to be apart of 'making a difference'.

Watch the video. Share the Hope. Be a part of the change you want to see in the world.

All in a Day's Blog

2007-06-27T15:35:00.000-07:00

It’s not always easy to come up with material for CNR. Life happens all around me, but it’s not all extraordinary or noteworthy. Still, it is my life, and sometimes I like to document its eccentricities.

Today I passed a VW Bug convertible, painted in the most gloriously loud color that can best be described as Barbie Pink. Now, when I was a kid, Barbie’s car of choice was a Corvette. But this is a Barbie of the now. A fun-loving, energetic Barbie, striking out on her own, with a car that says “I’m hip, I’m quirky… and I’m single.” How do I know the last one? The license plate: DUMT KEN *giggle*

In the world of counting ones blessings-- I stopped for lunch today at a Burger King nearby. I’ve been trying to stay away from the fast food, but I was in a hurry after my chiro appt, and I thought I’d try a salad or some such. I went inside, instead of drive through, because I’m tired of eating in my car… and more importantly, because I suddenly had to piss like a racehorse. However, the Universe knew that my need was not the greatest. I went into the restroom, only to hear the moaning and groaning of an unidentified woman. Figuring that she might need some privacy, I stepped out, ordered some food (all while doing that “I have to potty” dance), filled my beverage and sat at a booth near the bathroom. A few moments later, I peeked in again (if she wasn’t out, I was going to make a dash for the men’s room). She was emerging from the stall looking as if she was on death’s door. She walked to the sink and began soaking some tissues to press to her face and neck. I slipped in, took a quick pee, and emerged again. She was still at the sink. She was still fevered and sweaty and in her own world. I waited to wash my hands. She suddenly left the water running and bolted back into the stall. I washed and left as fast as humanly possible, all the while thinking “Thank you Universe, that in all my days I’ve never been face down in a semi-clean toilet at a Burger King in a questionable part of North Hollywood. No seriously…..Thank you!”

And lastly, in the realm of unexplained & unnecessary drama… What is the spiritual point and purpose of ingrown hairs? Seriously, they are painful, unsightly, and annoyingly reoccurring. I’ve spent the money for a series for laser treatments for my lower legs, and the next time I find myself with a truckload of excess cash, I’m going to get myself a session for the bikini area. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to blaze off the “full fifi”. I mean, like it smooth and such, but being the 90 yr old with a constant Brazilian seems like the quickest way to a bad reputation as “Sunnyvale Rest Home’s Hoochie Mama of the Year.”

Women in Art

2007-06-25T10:08:00.000-07:00

Three minutes of artistry that is so exquisite, it must be shared.

A Photo Anthology of Style and Pizazz

2007-06-22T17:15:00.000-07:00

This week has been beyond busy, but sometimes we just need to do something silly, something self-indulgent, in order to keep ourselves invested and... well... awake at the desk.

So I just spent the past 20 minutes creating a retrospective look at the last 18 months of my hair's various colors and styles.

Confession

2007-06-14T19:52:00.000-07:00

There are tons of photos from our time in Palm Springs, and I hope to post them soon. However, i just haven't really been able to sit down and write a good happy vacation post. My mind is rumbling with doubts and issues and frustrations, and I've avoided the written word becuase I'm in no mood to face the grouchies.

I should know better.

A grouchy mind left unexpressed leaks out in dreams and mood swings and after crying the car last night, I had a sleep full of angsty imaginings and disturbing visions. So I'm tossing aside some image of the eternally perky pink-haired girl and just hashing some shit out.

I'm not very happy with me right now.

When I was young, I dreamed of being something more. I loved theatre, and like many young girls, wanted to be that beautiful startlet splashed across movie screens. I loved the fierce and feisty heroines who battled the odds and fought the status quo. Dark and edgy, or just sarcastic and bitter, I laughed at their witty barbs and idolized their passionate fights. When people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would often say "Important."

I spent a few years trying to fit in and be "pretty", and when I realized that I didn't work well in that mold, I tried to create my own. I listened to dark, angry music and found release in the fury of dance floors. I felt alive when I was moving and lost when I had to "play along" with every day life. I chatted frequently with imaginary friends and invisible movie cameras that I felt documented my every move. I was always performing for an audience, and tried to make interesting choices.

I fought depression, and frequently lost. I sought out teachers and guides, and fell prey to manipulative and abusive imposters. I had tumultous and destructive love affairs, and although they hurt, I reminded myself that there was no gain without pain, and plunged somewhat melodramtically into the despair of the moment.

I'm sure I was quite tedious at times, but at least I felt original.

As time passed, I realized that life was not always a two-hour, well written saga that ended well as the credits ran. It's cliche, but "there's no one to save you except yourself," and once I embraced that (through years of therapy) I began to make better choices.... or at least I tried to.

I've done a lot of "inner work", and I believe that I am a much better person for it. However, as of late, I've begun to fear that "better" is not necessarily intersting. As of late, I find myself looking in the mirror, completely unimpressed with the person I've become. I wanted to be the femme-fatale, fierce and fiery. Instead, I see a chubby middle-aged woman, with an adequate job and an unremarkable life.

I find myself utterly ordinary... and that's really bothering me.

It's the Little Things...

2007-06-06T18:35:00.000-07:00

... that make me laugh; that get me through the day/week.

Tomorrow, I head out to Palm Springs with Tag. He's got a conference to attend at a spa/casino resort. I'll be resting by the pool if anyone needs me. *wink*

However, like many Americans with an over-zealoused office, I must PAY for my vacation in the fact that I must put 5 days of work into a 3 day week. As such, I've been maniacally crazed and overly stressed since the alarm clock went off Monday morning.

Today, that level of nutbar reached a peak when, in a fit of multi-tasking induced flighty-ness, I totally missed a "Breakfast with the Boss" meeting with my Senior Vice President. Yes, I stood up my boss's boss! The one who is a stickler for attendance and takes absences somewhat personally. *headdesk*

I might fall apart completely if it weren't for the little things.... like Annie's Bunny Pasta with Yummy Cheese.

Wait..... it gets even better.

Look at the side of the box.

*giggle*

Better.... Stronger... Faster

2007-05-31T14:43:00.000-07:00

Two things about me as a child:
1) I loved me some "Bionic Woman"
2) I was a blind as a bat

I still am quite visually-challenged. For me, it is just a way of life. A thing that has always been. I don't remember a time when I didn't wear glasses. I can look back at pre-school pictures and see that I don't have them. But I don't actually have the memory of not wearing my heavy coke-bottle lenses in cheesy plastic frames.

My optometrist put me in contacts at age 8. Sure, that doesn't sound so remarkable NOW, but remember, this was the late 70's, and back then, such drastic measures were unheard of. (Not to mention, they put me in hard lenses. Not today's "rigid gas permeable" which are so much kinder to the eye). The idea was that the firm lenses would provide some resistance for the cornea, and perhaps retard the speed at which my growing young eyes were deteriorating. However, putting hard lenses into an eye is not the most comfortable feeling, and I was a child. Needless to say, I was not terribly regular about care and cleaning for my lenses and thus I inflicted upon myself any number of corneal abrasions, infections, corneal neovascularization and (my favorite) corneal ulcers (like herpes cold sores in your eyes... so pretty and so much fun!)

In my teen years, vanity won out and I began to utilize and care for my contacts much more. They became a part of every day routine: Wake, stagger to bathroom, reach for case, rub lens with cleaner, rinse off thoroughly (they aren't kidding about that), then put tiny pieces of plastic in eye. Proceed with day.

As I learned the appropriate sterilization and storage techniques, the amount of bodily damage decreased. However, the lens body count continued to mount. One contact actually "popped" and split while in my eye. A few have slipped off the iris & wedged themselves behind the upper eyelid. One contact was knocked out by the draft caused by a Frisbee speeding by my face. My childhood best friend washed another down the drain. One plummeted onto disgusting carpet at Chuck E. Cheese. One oversexed lens leaped out of my eye and into the lap of the boy on whom I was sitting during a 'tween flirting session. Imagine his joy when in my panic, I began pawing his crotch fervently. I'm still not sure he believed me when I said, "No, I'm just looking for my contact"

Because of the state and situation of my eyes and continuously degenerating vision, soft contacts or extended wear are not an option. So I resigned myself for a very long time to the fact that this was the way my optical life operated.

And then the buzz around LASIK began. Science and technology promised to fix and replace that which was no longer useful. With just a few moments of precise laser incisions, and a wham-bam-thank-you-mam recovery time, one might see clearly again.

At first, I resisted... unsure of long term effects and a bit cynical of all this 'new fangled science'. But the more I thought about it over the last year, the more intrigued I became. Of course, it doesn't help that in the last 16 months, my eyes have deteriorated severely again, and the contacts I bought in late '05 (as well as the 'back up' glasses I purchased this time last year) no longer correct me to 20/20. Additionally, my night vision has grown dangerously bad. Halos and glare keep me from focusing on the road, and reading street signs is just plain impossible.

So with my hope and hat in hand, I made an appointment with the local laser eye center. 60 minutes later, after multiple exams and painfully bright pictures of my retina, I was told.... No Go. That's right kids, my prescription is too extreme and my cornea is simply too thin to withstand the surgery. *sigh*

There is one option that might be available. Intraocular lenses (IOL)are tiny bits of plastic placed directly into the eye. As the doctor helpfully explained, a flap in the cornea is cut open and peeled back. The IOL is then attached BY CLAWS to the mid peripheral iris. Doesn't that sound like fun?

The surgery is more intensive than LASIK, requiring a full surgical suite and on-call anesthesiologist. The lenses must be custom made, requiring a number of weeks prep time. The surgery itself takes longer than a LASIK procedure. Recovery time is longer as well, taking as much as 3 - 5 days for full vision to return. Because of this, they only do one eye at a time. So add in an additional 2 weeks between your surgeries, during which time one eye is healing and the other is as crappy as you started with. yay.

Did I mention the implant attaches "by CLAWS"!?!

Did I mention that your very own Steve Austin eye will cost you 2 - 3x more than LASIK?

*sigh*

I didn't realize how much I wanted LASIK until I was told it wasn't an option. I didn't realize how tired I am of not being able to see, until it once again became the only way to be. And I didn't realize how really scared I am of eventually ending up without any vision at all.... until now.

Tag recently bought me a beautiful little digital camera, and I find myself carrying it with me at all times right now. It's like I want to capture every image that moves me and burn it on to my memory's retina.... so that further down the road, I can, if needed, flip through the photo album in my mind.

Bionics remain, in my world at least, just a piece of science fiction, suitable for vintage TV.

Haiku for Tag

2007-05-30T11:11:00.000-07:00

...who is currently on a businesstrip in San Antonio

It is hard to wake

Next to your empty pillow

Grey gloomy mourning

Each little Slug here, cutting a rug here..

2007-05-29T12:26:00.000-07:00

Ah, the joy of a holiday weekend. A rare occassion when, despite having two different jobs, I still manage to have at least a 2 days off IN A ROW.

Tag and I decided to go to the Long Beach "Aquarium of the Pacific" for one of those glorious days. Although it was slammed with folks who had the same idea, we still enjoyed every moment. From petting the sharks and rays in the touch tanks, to watching a touching 5 min movie on the majesty of whales...it all excited and amazed us.

I love the Ocean. I love water. I love the idea that there are wild and wonderful creatures down there, so strange and exotic. I love that there is still so much unexplored. So much of our living waters and their resident denizens remain a mystery, and I hope they continue to be so for many years to come.

This lemony beastie was one of my favorites.... look how he's acutally holding himself in place, between the rock and the coral. Like a tiny Samson, pushing at the pillars of the temple, save for that look of bored resignation on his face.

Sunday Scribblings: Masks

2007-05-20T21:25:00.000-07:00

The weekend has been busy and it's nearly 9:30 on Sunday night before I finally get a peek at the Sunday Scribbling prompt for the week.

Synchronicity being the funny thing that it is.... I notice this prompt as we are watching "Labyrinth", in preparation for "Labyrinth of Jareth", the annual masquerade ball which I attend each year.

Watching this movie when I was young, all I wanted to do was disappear inside of it. Travel its various terrains and meet its random denizens. How wonderful and amazing that someone else had a similar thought, so much so that they manifested the event. Of course, like all such celebrations, the labyrinth has morphed and become its own entity.

Costume is required (or at least formal wear with a mask.) "Elaborate costumes" are recommended. And believe me, it is very clear that some folks work on their outfits all year long and make quite the showing. While some creatures are straight out of the movie, others are a wide variety of goblins, pirates, and fairies.

In the room, packed full of masked beings and living fantasies, one can completely lose oneself. Drop into the dance, listen to the bands, watch the shows, and disappear into another world, unrealted to reality. Masks and costumes have a built-in freedom that releases us from the mundane and opens a door to what we wish would be.

For beautiful masks and other such artistry, be sure to check out the pictures from years past.

Oh you Clever Corporate Bastards

2007-05-17T13:33:00.000-07:00

Is it not enough for you that I worship at the shrine of your beloved soda?

Now you invite me to the Coke Side of Life, and tempt me with your frivolous and arty "coke creator" program, sucking mindless moments from me as I design my very own Coke poster...

Wheeeeeeeeeee!

Morning After

2007-05-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

Day 1 - Post Detox, wherein the world attempts to return back to "normal"

Our dietary journey has ended (although many of the healthy habits will be retained). It was both challenging and insightful. I was thrilled to imbibe in my first cup of coffee this morning, but didn't need my usual amount of sugar. Lunch was tofu chili, but there was freedom in it because I knew that if I'd wanted to, I could have had meat in there instead. A world of new culinary options has opened up to me, and while I will return to my omnivore ways... I intend to continue my love affair with our Jack LaLanne Power Juicer.

However, when it comes right down to the nitty gritty of it, one discovery leaps to mind as most important.

I am not an alcoholic.

I apologize if that comes off somewhat tongue in cheek, because it is not meant that way. It is in fact a very solid and relief-filled statement. Many a time in my life, my addictive personality has leaned towards one vice or another as a form of escape. I've shared the company of several alcoholics (recovering and otherwise) in both my romantic and platonic relationships, enough times to make me wonder at the "birds of a feather" phenomena. And there are definite periods of my life wherein my own behaviors and tendencies scared me (like the 10 months I kept a bottle of vodka under the driver's seat of the car, for lunch breaks.) Therefore, the concept of going 30 days without alcohol seemed absolutely daunting. In practice though, abstaining was surprisingly easy.

Sure, there were bad days, stressful situations, & maudlin moods, to which my first instinctive response was "If only I had a glass of wine..." But then I would remind myself that it wasn't an option, and the urge would pass.

Let me repeat that.... the urge would pass. It didn't haunt me. It didn't keep me up at night. It didn't keep me from going to work, or dealing with unpleasantness. It would just fade away, like most of the other cravings (and faster than some.)

We have a bottle of red in the house even as I type, but it never occurred to me to open it prematurely. It was bought for that celebratory glass at the end of the road, and that's what it is waiting for still. (T minus 5 hours, and counting)

And when that long awaited moment comes, I will toast to willpower, to strength I didn't know I had, and to a future of better health and wiser coping mechanisms.

I will also toast Tag, as I couldn't have done this without him. *mwah* Thanks babe!

Long Awaited

2007-05-15T10:23:00.000-07:00

...wherein I reveal the joy I've had for the last 2 1/2 weeks.

I did it! I'd been wanting to for years, and I finally did it (corporate office be damned!)

It's just hard to be pouty when your mirror shows Pretty in Pink.

Note to Parents: Before you go off on what a ridiculous form of expression you may or may not believe this to be... please let me remind you that it is neither a new tattoo nor a new piercing.

Small Work Rant

2007-05-14T14:37:00.000-07:00

Look, I am not a tiny or fragile girl. I have upper body strength, more than most women in my office (thank you pole climbing). However, there are those sturdier and more equipped than I. There are also MEN on this floor. In fact the lordgodking quarterback, Mr. Fitness (aka my boss) is prone to show off his "guns" or tell us what he can bench or lift.

So why is it that 4 out of every 5 days .... I am the ONLY ONE replacing the 5-gallon jug on the water cooler!?!?!

I see people take their cups up to the spout, and when nothing comes out, they look up, see the empty jug and walk away. These same people later come running like a cat who hears the can opener, when I make that recognizable glug-glug-glug of a new jug pouring into the resevoir.

Seriously people... it's not that hard.

Sunday Scribblings: Second Chance

2007-05-11T14:18:00.000-07:00

The jingle of the visitor bell was as stereotypical as the musty smell of the little curiosity shop. The thought humored Doreen as she entered the dimly lit store. Despite its cramped quarters, the shop felt like a safe haven from the haggard and hurried streets of the city. Furthermore, it was the sort of place where no one came looking for anything or anyone in particular, and as she was busy hiding from her wreck of a life, “Second Chance Curiosities” seemed a perfect place to spend an afternoon…. Or at least the next 15 minutes.

As she was wont to do, she dragged her hand along the surfaces of items nearby, feeling the rough covers of old books or the crisp synthetic quality of baby doll hair past its prime. The shelves were uncharacteristically dust-free, and she appreciated the care the owner showed in displaying his wares, however dismal they appeared. Leather cracked around the spine of what looked to be a weather-beaten journal, and Doreen longed to read the pages. Picking up the book, she closed her eyes and held it to her chest, breathing in the stale warm smell of old pages and imagining what treasures it might hold

“Memoirs of a Civil War Soldier,” a voice whispered.

Doreen looked around startled to be caught in such reverie, but found no one. She caught movement in the corner of her eye, and did a double take, only to see a small grey spider scurry across the edge of a wooden shelf.

“Hello?” No response came

After a moment of silence, when it seemed that she really was quite alone, she brushed off the disturbance and tried to go about her browsing. She set the book on the table without much more thought and continued down the row.

At the back of the shop, past a splendid display of rusty shields and ancient masks, Doreen stopped in awe at the vast array of snow globes spread along 3 tall bookcases. Everything else in the store had been dust-free and tidy, but these shelves and their inhabitants glowed as if they were polished hourly. In each miniature glass planet, a blizzard whirled around tiny monuments and their petite patrons. Some were recognizable, like the Eiffel Tower, or St. Basil’s. Others seemed tribal or aboriginal in nature. A small handful seemed celestial or downright alien. Despite this assortment, Doreen found herself drawn to one that was terribly mundane. In the swirling snow sat a figure alone. The tiny woman was brightly dressed against her colorless backdrop, and her posture and facial expression embodied a passionless calm.

“That one is called ‘Blank Slate’.”

Doreen almost dropped the glass orb at the sound of the voice. However, this time when she looked up, she found she was not eerily alone anymore. A small bespectacled man with slate grey hair and mustache had appeared at her side. Doreen was frightened and embarrassed to have not heard him approach and tried to cover this with a note of irritation.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people so,” she stated. “At least not when they are holding glass.” She added a small laugh to soften her words, as she realized that she was being unnecessarily rude to someone who was, no doubt, the owner of the establishment in which she was currently a guest. The gentleman simply smiled.

An awkward moment of silence passed between them, making Doreen suddenly uncomfortable in these dimly lit cramped quarters. Still, she wasn’t ready to let go of the globe in her hands, so she fumbled over words until she managed to ask, “Is this for sale? I mean, how much is this? I want to buy it. I mean, I … might be willing to buy it… if the price is not too high.”

Again the grey haired man smiled. “They are very special to me,” he said, nodding his head towards the globes. “I’m not one to easily part with something so….” His pause was longer than needed and his eyes met hers with a jolt that chilled her. His smile grew larger. “But for a young lady who needs a ‘Blank Slate’, I can make a deal.”

He turned and shuffled towards an antique cash register. His legs were rickety, and his skin seemed tissue thin. Aging had taken its toll, but Doreen guessed that he wasn’t a very handsome man in his youth either. He had a bit of a greasy peddler feel to him, like an old time salesman, or the carney barker who calls you to the view the Freak tent. He seemed as much an old oddity as the items he sold, only he was in much more disrepair. Still, he was going to make her a deal (or so he said), and so Doreen put her disrespectful thoughts aside and followed him to the counter.

A bit of haggling and $20 later, Doreen found herself carrying home her new treasure, wrapped in paper and plastic. The globe drew her in, and she wanted very much to see it up close again. She waited until she was safely seated on the subway train before she began to unwrap it. Holding it in two hands, she was mesmerized by the tiny woman and all her vast possibilities.

“A blank slate…. A clean slate… a second chance,” Doreen murmured to herself as if the words would conjure such a state for herself. She locked eyes with the petite figure and wished with all her might that it might be her. 7 years ago, she’d moved to this city, desperate to run from her mistakes and shame. 7 years she’d spent fighting demons and stuffing regrets. 7 years, and all she had to show for it was a dismal job that barely covered rent on the one room apartment she’d spent 7 years hiding in. Her list of failures in love and life was overwhelmingly long, and she’d found it easier to wallow in mediocrity than it was to just forgive and move on. 7 years that brought her face to face with the fact that the old adage was true, “Wherever you go, there you are.” And here she was- on a subway, bleary-eyed with tears, wishing she were that calm little woman in the white-out world of her blank slate.

The subway was oddly quiet, and so Doreen didn’t notice when she missed her stop. She didn’t notice the people who got on or off. She was nearly invisible, in her back corner of the train, focused on her little glass world. She felt herself slipping away, imagining endlessly what she might do were she that woman in the globe. She pulled her thin sweater tighter around her, and snuggled tighter into a ball as she felt the temperature drop, but her gaze never waivered from the face in the snow. Harder and harder she wished and wanted. More and more she dropped into that place of possibility. Real life seemed to fade from her thoughts as she dreamed and hoped and desired and irrationally craved the life of that calm figure in the whirling snow. The glass grew foggy with her warm moist breath as the truth of the subway drifted further and further away. Her fevered prayers for a blank slate erased the hard lines of reality until everything else vanished. And then Doreen simply disappeared as well.

No one remembered the small girl on the subway that night. At least, they wouldn’t have if any one had asked. But when the conductor did a walk through at the end of his shift, and found the lone snow globe in the corner seat of the last row of the last car, he didn’t question. He merely assumed that someone had carelessly forgotten; their lives too full of other matters of consequence. He tucked it under one uniformed arm, and walked off to clock out.

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

The jingle of the bell as she opened the door was just like a spooky scene from a movie, Annie thought as she dipped into the tiny curiosity shop, and Annie loved movies. She loved all things having to do with escape. Her job was dreary and monotonous, the heat outside unbearable, and her lunch time walk had found her wandering in search of a midday vacation. She felt like a soul possessed by the singular urge to ‘get away from it all’, and that craving for something new had led her feet to the tiny store she’d not noticed before. A twinkle caught her eye as light reflected on some glass at the back of the store, and intrigued, Annie walked towards what seemed to be a shelf full of glass orbs.

Flurry

2007-05-10T15:19:00.000-07:00

I've had so much on my mind, and such the urge to write, but the laptop never seems to be nearby when I'm feeling eloquent... and the time I do spend on a computer (work) is wasted on scheduling and SAP. So instead of several eloquent posts, each dedicated to a single event - you get a bullet point list to summarize the flurry of activity.

First of all, HAPPY WEDDING DAY to Slackmistress & Be The Boy. Their Detective Agency is finally "official" (and, I actually had time to watch it on the live webcast. She looked beautiful.)
Speaking of blissful couples, Tag and I celebrated our one year anniversary yesterday. *grin* Well, actually we're celebrating it tonight, with a couple of tickets to the Loreena McKennitt concert.
The Griffith Park fire- yes, Tag and I and the kitties are ok, as is our domicile. However, we were far closer that I ever want to be to another raging inferno. My breath caught in my throat as I stood on our street corner, watching an endless stream of cars of the evacuated citizens who lived a mere 2 -3 blocks north of us. The skies were never dark that night. They glowed deep red, or bright orange, depending on the fire's intensity. We slept to the overpowering sound of constant helicopters as news crews kept watch all night. And we awoke at 4am coughing, finding our bedroom filled with smoke. (We have no air conditioning, and so we have open windows and fans. Not great for breathing when 800 acres are burning less than a mile away). Thanks to a diligent and tireless firefighting force, the Zoo and several other landmarks were saved. Sadly there was still a great loss of wilderness and wildlife. The cause is still not officially released, but a "badly burned person of interest" was being treated for burns on his chest and arms. According to his story, he fell asleep while smoking. I'm working on tempering my outrage towards him, so instead of beating him about his burned torso, I'm just going to post today's PSA image:

*image courtesy of The Fireman. He so rocks!

Lastly, this link was sent to me earlier today. That's right ladies... a shoe sale whose proceeds go to charity. Now you can dress those tootsies in your favorite designers GUILT-FREE!

That's it for today my dears.... Tag is here, and so I'm headed out the door and off to our evening events.

Sunday Scribblings: Ocean

2007-05-07T11:53:00.000-07:00

When I was young, I had many dreams that occurred like memories of another life. They had no action to them, and they repeated themselves over time. It's like hoving over a snapshot.... only I could feel the emotions of the moment. This writing comes from one of those dreams.
She stood on the weathered dock like a ghost, pale grey and lifeless. Her long skirts hung with the weight of multiple layers of wool and petticoats, sodden with unrelenting rain. Only the crisp blue of her eyes seemed alive, constantly scanning the endless horizon of swirling water.

Some called her “The Watcher”, others “The Widow,” though never the latter when she was nearby. Even the slightest inference that he wouldn’t return was met with glaring blue steel from those vivid eyes. Death was not an option in her world. Just endless waiting for the proper conclusion.

Wild winds whipped stray pieces of hair about her face, lashing her skin with cold, wet wisps that had escaped her untidy bun. Around her shoulders was a tattered crocheted shawl that provided no protection or solace from the storm. And yet, she seemed unaware of the squall around her. She just stood, stone still against a large wooden post, and stared out to sea.

The Nor’easters had come early this year. Late enough in the season that wise and wealthy crews had finished their haul and come in… but early enough to catch small fishing boats who had stayed too long. Unlucky were those working class men whose livelihood depended on their haul. Some had returned. But a few remained asea, above and below the waves.

One long pale hand, cold and wet, reached up as if with a life of its own, to the locket she wore. Old beaten metal full of hope, she clutched it whenever her thoughts were darkest. Day after day now, she’d watched ships larger and stronger than his, come limping home, battered from the gale. She was dockside when the dawn broke, and still at her post when it slipped below the horizon again, but still no word had come. No sign. No affirmation. Just raging waters and bleak barren skies.

Her petite lips moved, whispering prayers to any who would listen. To God, that he might protect him. To Poseidon, that he might return him. To Davy Jones, that he might reject him from a water grave and send him back to the surface. And in her blackest moments, though she would admit it to no one, she would pray to the Sirens, that they might recognize a good man, and care for him if they could not send him back.

Time became meaningless. Aging, pointless. The universe had frozen in this moment….. eternally waiting, praying, searching. And bit by bit, she is eroding, like the shores and pier pilings, her hopes dashed on the rocks in endless waves.

*picture from this website

Unexpected Turn of Events

2007-05-03T12:29:00.000-07:00

Detox: Day 18

Clearly all this healthy eating has caused an egregious misfire of the synapses of my brain...

For I found myself thinking just now, "Oooh, wow... this tofu patty is really yummy today."

P.S. The sauteed asparagus was friggin fantastic too.

Detox: day 16

2007-05-01T14:05:00.000-07:00

That's right folks, I've now passed the half-way mark on the 30 day detox.

16 days with no fast food
16 days with no alcohol (!!?!?!)
16 days without my beloved Coca-Cola
*pout*

It's fascinating to see the mind break down without its comforting numb haze caused by saturated fats and sugars. I'd like to say I've had an epiphany. I'd like to say that the cravings have gone away. But I'd be lying. 16 days without has only made me 16 days cranky.

I long to sink my teeth into a hot searing piece of meat. Don't get me wrong, I love our friend the cow. I love their eyelashes and the sounds they make. I love their velvet noses, and the softness of their tongues as they lick the side of my face. I love that there's a spot on a calf's chin that, when I scratch it just right, causes him to flop his head heavily into my hands with a sigh. I also happen to love a high-quality cut of beef, with horseradish and worchester sauce on the side.

I am an addict, to be sure.

Sunday Scribblings: Secret Identity

2007-04-30T11:56:00.000-07:00

He’s saving lives, I know he is.

He wouldn’t want you to know it of course, and I’m probably breaking several International treaties by mentioning it at all, but I don’t want him to be so misunderstood.

I’d like to say he uses his powers only for good. I’m sure all mothers would. But I can’t promise you what I don’t know. He slips away, through a rip in the fabric of time and space. He vanishes without a trace and you can turn the whole house upside down and never find him. But hours later, he comes sauntering out of a room you’ve checked a dozen times and he flops across the green plush sack, exhausted with a long day’s work.

Mind you, no matter how relaxed he seems, he’s never unaware. Let a strange set of footsteps sound on the stairs outside the apartment, and he’s 2 feet in the air and then POOF, only a cloud of well shed hair appears in the space he once occupied.

Friends jokingly call him “Snuffilupugus” because only Tag and I can ever see him, but I swear he’s real…. And so much more than a mere house cat. He’s Double-O Dobby, secret agent…. And somewhere right now, he’s sipping a dry martini and saving the world.

(see the tiny eyes in the dark... that's him)

Banditos For Peace

2007-04-27T12:28:00.000-07:00

Today, I'm working a half day (joy!), after which I will drag myself over to the Westside to get my hairs did (more joy!) Post salon, I will drive down for a 2 hours session of Kundalini Yoga at the studio.

However my Saturday will not be nearly as lush.... as Tag and I will be participating in the "DisplaceMe" event sponsered by Invisible Children. IC is a grassroots organization, who with their film (of the same name) brought to light the plight of Ungandan children (known as "night commuters") who flee their villages at night in order to avoid being pressed into service as a soldier in the Lord's Resistance Army.

13 different cities across the US and over 61,000 people are participating in the Displacement (6,248 in Los Angeles alone).

Wanna spend your Saturday night making new friends, creating a community of people who care? Then please, come join us!

Taking Action

2007-04-25T09:17:00.000-07:00

WHAT IS DENIM DAY IN LA?

In 1999 an Italian Supreme Court decision overturned a rape conviction because the victim wore jeans. The justices stated that the victim must have helped her attacker remove her jeans, from which they inferred consent. People all over the world were outraged. Wearing jeans became an international symbol of protest against erroneous and destructive attitudes about sexual assault. The Denim Day in L.A. protests here in Los Angeles, spearheaded by Peace Over Violence (formerly the Los Angeles Commission on Assaults Against Women), have evolved into an annual county-wide, highly publicized rape prevention education campaign.

Last year, over 250,000 individuals, 400 organizations and businesses and 49 cities in Los Angeles County signed up to support Denim Day in L.A. Thousands of men, women and youth wore jeans, posted rape prevention education materials, supported prevention programs by donating to the Dollars For Denim campaign and talked with friends and colleagues about rape myths and realities.

Even if you aren't wearing jeans today, or you don't live in Los Angeles... you can still make a difference.

There is no excuse and never an invitiation to rape.

Help Stop the Violence!

Toxic Tantrum

2007-04-23T17:55:00.000-07:00

Tag and I have begun a month long detox. The 30 days are broken into 10 day segments, each with their own purpose, and thus their own dietary guidelines. However, for the entire 30 days some rules stand fast: No MSG, No High Fructose Corn Syrup, No Hydrogenated Oils. That’s all well and good. I can deal with all those. But there a few other policies in place for the long haul that are killing me. Those include: No Meat, No Dairy, No Sugars, No Alcohol. In short, the 4 staples of my diet. Oh shit!

The first 10 days are the “Elimination” cycle, designed to help break addictions to things like sugar and alcohol (also to caffeine, nicotine, and any over the counter medications). I knew going in that it would be challenging, and that addictions I didn’t even know I had would likely come up and bite me in the ass. Have to say… haven’t been wrong so far. However, I'm somewhat surprised by what I'm finding to be most difficult.

I was raised on fast food. My father worked odd hours and my mother was a busy career woman who didn’t have a lot of time or patience to cook for a finicky child. Burger King, on the other hand, promised that without trouble I could have it MY way, and thus we visited a lot. Partially due to laziness, and partially due to the time constraints of my overly-scheduled life, I have continued my less than stellar drive-thru diet. I know it’s not wise, but it's easy, (and oh the price we pay for “convenience.”)

However, I didn’t grasp that my attachment to fast food went far beyond mindless routine and MSG-addiction, and had an emotional compontent until the other night. I had received a disturbing email, at the end of a long drama-filled work day, on top of Day 3 of a killer headache. Although stoicism is not really my nature, I held it together through class and the long drive home. However, fatigue won out, and I found myself in my kitchen, blurting out the whole onslaught of woes in snotty sobs. I collapsed into Tag's arms with this final note: “And I just want some meat…. And a COKE.”

Some people find ice cream and chocolate to be their comfort foods. Others salve their injuries with coffee and cigarettes. But apparently my "woobie" is Combo meal #2. A world of solace can be found sipping 32 oz of syrupy carbonated sweetness as the softly purring motor of the car sings a lullaby. It fills a lonely place in my heart that fresh daikon sprouts and beet juice just can’t touch. And silly as it sounds, without that blanket of numbness that chemicalized beef provides, I’m being forced to face feelings that I have been stuffing down for a very long time.

I’m sure that there will be more writing, more thinking, more purging before my 30 day hell is all said and done. But until then, remember this:

The world might be a safer place if I could just get some “biggie fries” STAT. *sigh*

The Great Turtle Race!

2007-04-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

Are you watching?

For more than 100 million years, leatherback turtles have graced our oceans. At an astonishing eight feet long and up to 2,000 pounds, they journey between continents and dive to incredible depths. But in the last 10 years, 95% of the leatherbacks in the Pacific Ocean have vanished, victims of human pressures.

The Leatherback Trust, Tagging of Pacific Predators, Conservation International, Costa Rica?s Ministry of Environment and Energy, and Yahoo! invite you to join the Great Turtle Race. Follow 11 leatherback turtles on a two-week journey as they swim from their nesting sites on Playa Grande beach in Costa Rica to the Galapagos Islands.

Tag is rooting for Saphira (as sponsored by the Bullis Charter School). I adore both Genevive & Billie..... but I also love to root for the underdog. So today I'm putting my cheering power behind Drexelina, who has managed to get herself all turned around on the beach and is heading in the wrong direction. Send her the positive vibes, won't you? That way, she can get herself back on track and headed towards her home in the Galapagos Islands.

Soundtrack of My Life

2007-04-17T16:01:00.000-07:00

My horoscope made comment of finding new music to inspire and motivate me. Oddly enough, about the same time, I ran across this meme in Amandarin's archives. (yes, sorry... another blog theft). I used this synchronicity as a prod to make me discover (or in some places re-discover) the tunes that move me, that have memories associated with them, or the ones that just light up my mind with visual images.

If your life was a movie, what would the soundtrack include?

The opening title: Female of the Species-- Space
The waking-up scene: Heavy in Numbers-- Dragster Barbie
The average day/menial tasks montage: One Angry Dwarf & 200 Solemn Faces-- Ben Folds Five
The secret crush: You look like Rain-- Morphine
The first date/blind date: Secret-- Maroon 5
The party: Alcohol-- BareNakedLadies
The dance sequence: Stand Up Fever-- Ludacris vs Peggy Lee Mash-up
The falling in love/"spark" scene: Can't help falling in love-- Elvis Presley
The lovemaking scene: Angel-- Massive Attack
The fight scene: Suck it up-- Die Warzau
The break-up: Vinager & Salt-- Hooverphonic
Long night alone: Wild is the Wind-- Nina Simone
The reconciliation: Call & Answer-- BareNakedLadies
The mental breakdown: Girl Anachronism-- The Dresden Dolls
The stalking: Touched-- VAST
The explosion/shoot-out: Beautiful People-- Marilyn Manson
The get-away/driving scene: Bad Blood-- Ministry
The learning-a-lesson montage: Grace Under Pressure-- Elbow
Deep thoughts: When I'm Down-- Chris Cornell
The flashback: Scenes from an Italian Restaurant-- Billy Joel
Regrets: Full of Grace-- Sarah McLachlan
The death scene: And Dream of Sheep-- Kate Bush
As the closing credits roll: But Not Tonight-- Depeche Mode.

Passive Agressive Catharsis 2007

2007-04-13T10:39:00.000-07:00

A little over a year ago, Amandarin did a fabulous meme titled “Passive Aggressive Catharsis.” At the time, I contemplated doing the same, but didn’t feel in a safe place to do so. But as I’m about to start a month long detox, I find myself readying to get rid of what I no longer need. This includes things that need to be said, but never have been. And so…I now step up to the plate and play along.

List up to ten (10) things you want to say to ten (10) different people. Do not state who these people are. Do not confirm or deny any ‘comment speculation’.

1. Stop Whining! It’s not all about you, your job should not be your whole life, and WOW you are exhausting to be around.
2. I feel like you’ve already gone, and I know I’m going to miss you more than I’ll ever express.
3. I bet you still sit on your high horse thinking everyone else needs to sort out THEIR issues. Denial is a powerful thing.
4. 15 years later, I still remember your touch.
5. Thank you- for being here, for listening, for accepting me, for laughing with me. Endless thank yous.
6. When I leave, I replay our conversations in my head, just to make sure everything is still “ok”.
7. I did as asked and stopped communicating with you. But I cannot and will not ever forget you, or stop caring about you. Be well.
8. I wonder what you say about me when I’m not around.
9. Some of the lessons you taught me still scar me daily.
And lastly….
10. Still at the bottom of a bottle? It’s wrong I know, but sometimes I hope so. Because if you did for her what you flat out refused to do when I was around, then I’m PISSED. I have such mixed feelings about you. I miss you. I’m still angry at you. I wish I could apologize to you for the fact that when we were together, I was NOT in my best place. Some days I curse you. Some days I mock you. But on my best days, I remember you kindly and then release what we had to the Universe, trusting that the wind will blow blessings to you, erasing all the bad memories from us both, and leaving us with a faint but happy essence of what we once shared.

101 in 1001- Latest Update

2007-04-02T16:20:00.000-07:00

I realized that it had been a while since I'd updated my list on line, and that lots had been accomplish (or changed) since my last posting. So I've made some updates on my progress

Read the latest 101 in 1001 here

Words to Catch at my Heart

2007-03-20T16:18:00.000-07:00

"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."
- Emily Dickinson

"The world is composed of rival gangs of hypnotists, each competing for your entranced attention." --graffiti on the wall of a public restroom at Northgate Mall, San Rafael, California

*****************
That's it. Wish I had more for you, but the daily grind has sucked dry my brain like a grape left on the dashboard of a car in a Southern Summer. *sigh* I finished Eat, Pray, Love and now find myself in that same void that one feels when one returns from a blissful vacation, only to plunk back into the morass that is everyday routine.

Trancendance, Table for One- Part 2

2007-03-16T14:59:00.000-07:00

Friday afternoon is light, and I've decided to let myself off the leash again for a lunch moment. I cross the street to a little eatery where the salads are lovely and corners are dark. Here, I can disappear for an hour, and yet never feel any panic about being far from the office.

Over a goat cheese appetizer and tuna salad nicoise, I read about Elizabeth's further adventures in the Indian Ashram. I envy her meditation caves and her silent turets. I wonder how anyone can get close to the divine in this busy madcap world.

That's when a few distinct noises break through my reading focus (a difficult thing to do, for when I read... I block out the world)

The first is a conversation between a waiter trainee and the day manager of the restaurant. They are speaking of "sunday school", of verses and psalms, of religion and teachings and things that ease their hearts.

The second is a line from the song playing on the restaurant's overhead speakers. It is the 70's hit "Rock the Boat".... the line that is instantly absorbed by my consciousness is "love and devoooootion!"

I throw my head back and laugh out loud, aware for a moment that the "all-encompassing divine" is in fact in full force around me. It always is, whether I am in an Indian meditation cave or a North Hollywood restaurant. I just need to be reminded once in while.

In a state of bliss, I finish my lunch.... chuckling and feeling loved.

I'm DEFINATELY making lunch a more regular event.

Imagini-art

2007-03-15T16:29:00.000-07:00

Saw this on Mardougrrl's page, and just couldn't resist all those yummy images.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

If you'd like your visualDNA, go here.

Trancendance, Table for One

2007-03-13T18:51:00.000-07:00

Lunch. It’s an infrequent luxury in my world, and as I walked away from the office today, I actually heard the “Rocky” theme music in my head…. As if unchaining myself from the desk for 60 min were a feat of Herculean proportion.

My intention was to pick up some Taco Bell and drive to a near-by park, where I would read my current obsession, Eat, Pray, Love. I believe that this book was an Oprah recommendation or something similar, and I admit that did not really fill me with confidence that I would find it either inspirational or motivational. However, my dance studio offered it up as the book for discussion one month, and I wanted to have some idea of what people were talking about.

I couldn’t be more pleased that I did. What an amazing discovery!! This book fills me with hope and drive and all things that feel bubble-bath good in one’s soul. It has been a long time since I repeatedly laughed OUT LOUD at a book’s passages, much less chased someone down (usually poor Tag) saying, “Wait… you have to hear this. It’s hysterical.”

Elizabeth Gilbert’s telling of her year long adventures in Italy, India and Indonesia rousts parts of my soul that had settled into the numbness of neglect, giving it both wings, and the urge to fly. It has lightened my heart and filled it with giggly madness and joy. This is the kind of book that poets weep for and established governments should fear, because it cajoles me to be bigger, to be more courageous, to be more alive, to be inspired, invigorated, & ignited into a sacred flame.

As such, I found myself driving past the Taco Bell, and instead to a restaurant (one of my favorites) where I had not been in a long time. There I settled into a table by a sun-heated window, ordered some white wine and a salad, and allowed myself to be indulgent, reading at the table, drinking mid-day, and not keeping any sort of strict eye on the “lunchtime clock”.

While I ate my organic turkey burger and sipped my chardonnay, I found myself entranced by the words on the page. Gilbert’s description of the daily routine of the Ashram is reminiscent of the fantasy I’ve often had about life in a convent, or other spiritual temple. (And yes, I am aware how conflicting that desire is with my inherent inclinations to take long, wine-filled lunch breaks.... bear with me. )

Still, it was all a fairly innocous until I got to the conversation on soul mates:

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, a person who brings you to your own attention, so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too Painful.”

When I finished reading the passage, I had to turn my head towards the window, and stare into the bright California sun, blinking back tears and the gasp that was caught in my throat. It’s not that the words were foreign or some epiphany exploding inside of me. The words were much identical to a conversation I had with a dear friend when I lost my first “soul mate”. But perhaps, because so much time had past, and my heart was miles from hurt, I was able to take those words inside of me as I never had before. There was a sigh of relief from within my soul, and I felt both validated and set free.

There have been a few loves in my life, that when they appeared, I was swept off my feet by the disorienting power they had over me. The signs of the Universe blinked in neon, telling me in no uncertain terms “PAY ATTENTION! This one is VERY important to you.” Those loves were passionate whirlpools of intensity, swirling wildly from indescribable joy to unbearable fury and pain. Those loves were also, oddly enough, the shortest in my history. They swept in, broke through walls, ripped open scabs, spilt their iodine and left without so much as a band-aid in thanks.

And here was a book, years later, confirming that it just might be a part of the bigger plan. *sigh* It was an amazing relief.

I turned from the window, back to the room full of diners and felt… just a little different. The couple at the table next to me received from the waitress two plates of pancakes, and I laughed while crying at the beauty and freedom of that. (I can’t explain what I found particularly moving about it…. Just that I did). There was a brief moment of wondering if I was being watched; if anyone noticed the tears glistening in my eyes, or the smile I couldn’t seem to erase. Just as quickly as that thought appeared, I realized that I couldn’t possibly care. I was in that moment perfect and pure and enjoying a state of amazing bliss.

I finished my glass of wine, paid my bill, and returned to my car. A moment of transcendence, disguised as an everyday meal.

I really should make a point of taking lunch more often.

Under Ice

2007-02-27T12:34:00.000-08:00

News reports that two mammoth ice shelves in the Weddell Sea have collapsed into the sea. While the event is a sad & tragic example of global warming at work, it has opened up a portal into which marine biologists can peep, and see some of the glorious and mysterious creatures of the cold deep.

Among the findings was this new species of epimeria, sampled near Elephant Island, Antarctic Peninsula.

However, my favorites have to be this brilliantly colored shrimp-like creature

and this remarkably magic octopus.

I will forever love and be in awe by the unexplored portions of our watery world.

Open Water (with a twist)

2007-02-23T12:45:00.000-08:00

In a sea of flannel sheets, the couple clung to one another, desparately trying to hold on to sleep that was slipping away with the growing light.

It was in that silence of early dawn that the first attack hit. A nudge, a whisker in the ear, and then a void that was as startling as the tickle.

Next, one sandpaper tongue began to wash the woman's eyelid. Over and over its unforgiving texture lapped at her unprotected flesh. She flailed and twisted away from the pain. Her pursuer slipped back into the abyss.... leaving a false sense of security and hope.

Suddenly in mass they swarmed..... One head pounce, one eyelid wash, and from one below, one paw of razor-tipped claws sank into his unsuspecting butt-cheek. He yelped in unspeakable pain, the noise of which pierced her ear. She ducked, seeking santuary in the endless tangled wrappings of the sheets, but her actions only caught the eye of the ever watchful predator, who mistook the gesture as the beginning of a game. Sharp talons of death came out for real as the near-slaughter continued..... all was lost for our heroic couple.

...

And just as the pain was subsiding from his mangled hiney, the alarm sounded, and poor Tag had to get up and feed the beasties before heading off to the office.

yeah.... like this...

only our sleeping bodies in the same perilous position

as that poor catnip plant.

Dear Duchess of "Rap"*

2007-02-20T16:18:00.000-08:00

Read It, Live It, Learn It.

Spelling does not count as song writing.

I first noticed it during “Pump It” when you felt the need to remind us that we were listening to the “B-L-A-C-K-E-Y-E-D” Peas. The spelling was quick the beat was danceable and I let it slip by.

Then you went solo, and took your one trick pony with you. Not only did you repeatedly point out that you are “D, to the E, to the L-I-C-I-O-U-S” and “T, to the A, to the S-T-E-Y”, but you also offended the literate by not even spelling the last word correctly. *headdesk*

The final straw came this weekend, when I was subjected to a larger than life big screen, with your image prancing across it, declaring for all who would listen that you won't change for the “G-L-A-M-O-R-OUS”

I know I sound like a crotchety old person who can’t stand that music that “the kids are listening to these days”, but let me assure you… that is not the case. I like to be open to a wide variety of different tunes and beats. Given my mood, I can be found listening to anything from Punk to Classical, from Rap to Rock, from tribal drumming to full orchestra Musical Theatre.

But I haven’t gotten into a spelling song since Sesame Street had me humming along with “C is for Cookie”

So please, for the sake of us all… Get some W, to the R, to the I, to the T-I-N-G skills.

Kplsthx!

*note that rap is in quotes because I use that term really loosely when it comes to your music.

Being & Becoming

2007-02-18T14:32:00.000-08:00

From "Words of Wisdom for Women" by Rachel Snyder

Be

Remember that life is in the being, not the doing. Be every bit of everything that you are. Be tough, be soft, be dramatic, be subdued. Be a little bit of this and a little bit of tha. Be the one who always shows up on time or be th eone who lives according to her own inner clock. Be the one who never forgets a detail or be th eone who never remembers. Be happy when you feel like it and be sad when you are down.

Be who you are-- not who they told you you should be. Be able to cry in front of someone you hardly know, if it's time to cry. Be willing to be real. Be talkative if you are; be quiet if you are not. Be ready to drop your masks and your protective armor and be genuine. Be in the moment. Be in the light.

.... And just when they think they know exactly who you are, be prepapred to be something altogether different.

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

Class was good today. Stirred my soul, moved my aching body (damn the migraines... damn them all to hell), and allowed me for a moment to slip the surly bonds of the everyday, and just Be. I wish the same bliss for you today.

Sunday Scribblings: Yummy

2007-02-11T11:28:00.000-08:00

WOW.. what an easy prompt for me.

For years now, my alias has been YummyTeece. It came as a combination of my then boyfriend's nickname for me (Teece), and my favorite word, Yummy.

To me, Yummy is about so much more than taste. Yummy is the epitome of all things good. Sunshine after a rainstorm is yummy. The smell of newly-mown grass, which stirs memories of childhood's carefree summers... That's yummy. The warm glow of a first date gone wonderfully right... you know, that cloud you walk on for week after? That's the essence of being embraced by a big pink bubble of Yummy. It's the feeling of being loved, the feeling of self-confidence, the feeling of entering a room and stopping all the traffic in it.

Maya Angelou captured it when she said:

"The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me."

Phenomenal women are Yummy!

Therfore when I embraced "YummyTeece", it was my way of speaking into the Universe the idea of me, to my highest power. Me at my most invincible. Me at my most self-loving. Me at my most courageous. Me- unfiltered, undiluted and unfraid.

I put Yummy out there to others when I meet them and have this conversation. I challenge them to find the Yummy in themselves, to embrace the Yummy in others. Paint the whole town Pink, a warm yummy bubble-gum pink of sugar sweet honesty and love.

Yummy....

I'm in such a better mood now. THANKS SUNDAY SCRIBBLINGS!!

Pouncing Anxiety

2007-01-31T12:37:00.000-08:00

For more than half my life, my winters (specifically January and February) have been plagued with a diagnosed bout of depression. It hangs on, unwelcome, like the cloying scent of decay, and is terribly annoying to boot. My physical body aches and spasms, my sleep & eating patterns go out the window. I become irritable and moody.

Knowing that this is a biological cycle, I do what I can to fight it. Try to watch what I eat and drink, keep an eye on whether or not my response to any stimulator is ‘overly dramatic’ or otherwise unwarranted. I don’t like to think of myself as a depression “sufferer” but more one who trudges through the slime and muck and arrives eventually on the other side.

However, in the last few years, my winter visitor has come hand in hand with a new friend, Paranoia. I find myself questioning motivation for each comment addressed to me, as well as constantly checking myself in the mirror for what may have gone horribly wrong since last look. (and yes, I'm speaking of something more than just fresh zits or spinach in my teeth.) Each car behind me is either ‘undercover police’ or ‘intentionally harassing me’. Hang ups on the phone are stalkers trying to find me. Each ache and pain is sign and symptom of some incurable malady. My emails are being monitored; my bank account is being secretly hacked. It’s hell on my nerves, and even more of a drain on the folks around me.

*sigh*

BUT… even in the darkness, there are moments of light and joy. Just last weekend, Tag and I decided to celebrate his birthday with a visit to our local zoo. It was rainy and cold, and thus there were few folks meandering about. We headed to the snow leopard cage, hoping that the darkened winter weather would have aroused them from their usual mid-day slumber. Sure enough, they were not only alert and out in the open, they were in the mood to play. Upon hearing us approach, one of the young males climbed to a vantage point in his habitat and readied a pounce. Seeing him, I dove behind a bush and rustled the dry leaves on the ground. Intrigued, we watched each other for a moment before I sprang out and ran down the path. Inside his enclosure, he ran the corresponding length of his cage. I doubled back and so did he, and when we reached our starting point, I flopped slightly sideways in submission, and he did similarly, with a big cat “chuff”, clearly proud of himself.

The moment lightened my spirit and reminded me that this life I’m currently living…. 9 – 5 at a desk 5 days a week, is not one that I’m truly meant for. I need outside time and interaction with animals. I want to attend school again, and move forward in a way that feels so fitting. I want to talk with the animals, walk with the animals… play hard and live big. Perhaps when I finally fully inhabit the life I’m intended for, these winter doldrums will ease their hold on me.

Living is achieved in the same way that depression is conquered- one day at a time. Moving ever forward, not sitting and waiting it out. Fighting and winning small battles each day. Getting up and getting dressed, when you really just want to pull the covers over your head. *sigh* WOW… this little pep talk is nauseating even me.

What can I say? It’s January, almost February… and I’ve never really liked that time of year. I’m grouchy and nasty-tempered, in pain and in a lousy mood. However, I remain ever thankful for a love that stands beside me, and pouncy moments at the zoo.

Peace out my lovlies.... go do something fun with your day!

Riding The Wind

2007-01-05T12:23:00.000-08:00

“Wild nights are my glory”
- Mrs. Whatsit, A Wrinkle in Time

That quote struck a chord in me as a child, and stays with me still to this day. If you don’t know the book, first let me say, “Go read it!” Mrs. Whatsit is an entertaining creature that Meg (the book’s protagonist) mistakes for some sort of homeless tramp. I often envisioned her as a nearly vomitous burst of colors and smells that is both alluring and off-putting at the same time. By today's adults, women fitting that description are often passed by, dismissed or overlooked. But like a child full of wonder, I would like to think that if I discovered her today, I would have the insight to find her as fascinating and enticing as Meg and her younger brother Charles Wallace do.

There are three such magical women who aid the children in their travels, Mrs. Whatsit being the youngest and most verbal. Perhaps I connected with her for that reason alone, although I think more that it had more to do with her transformation. Mid-book (and I don’t mean to be a spoiler, but hey…it’s my blog) Mrs. Whatsit turns into a beautiful centaur-like creature. Now being Sagittarius, I felt some sort of bond with her equine form, and dreamt of shimmering into such a shape. The cover art showed iridescent rainbow wings spreading out where arms might be, and in that corporeal body, she rides the children up, out of the atmosphere, for a “bigger picture” of the Universe & the endless battle of Dark vs. Light.

Last night, as the unusually strong winds whipped past windows and shook the apartment, I did what I often do in windstorms. I closed my eyes and pictured the great Mrs W spreading those glowing wings, facing a fierce headwind, then with a leap, sending herself bucking and blowing across a star-filled sky. I imagine her laughing loudly and robustly, reveling in the whirling torrent. I dream of her riding unharnessed wind and rejoicing in the wildness of night. And I wish, once again, that I was her.

Wrapping up 2006

2007-01-03T16:06:00.000-08:00

Oh my dears.... so much time passed. I guess that when I'm happy, I'm a less prolific writer. Therefore pardon my absence, but know that by and large, it's due to a busy and blissful life.

December was a rush. I helped plan the Company Holiday party, which also just happened to be on my 35th birthday. 900+ people at a plush Hollywood hotspot..... quite the way to ring out 34. And as you can see... I looked quite sassy doing so.

After the holiday party, I decided to further celebrate my refusal to get old by coloring my hair a fun and unusual color. My colorist called it "Electric Cranberry".... but usually people tell me it's either Pink or Bright Red.

Winter Solstice brought an early gift for my beloved Tag.... in the form of an ever-curious kitten named "Cash" (as in "the Cat in Black"), seen here giving my schnoz a nibble...

Lastly, we rang in the New Year at an intimate gathering hosted by the SlackMistress , where fun was had by all. Even those who didn't quite make it through the whole party (but I won't name names.... *wink*)

Instead, I'll post pics. *grin*

The Night begins with a little Champagne and a whole lot of Silliness.

Midnight Snugglies ring in 2007.

Oopsie..... turns out Champagne and Bombay Sapphire don't mix well.

I hope that you and yours were able to celebrate as happily and as safely, and that 2007 opens doors that mystify your sense of wonder and elate your heart.

She's Got the Look

2006-12-08T14:10:00.000-08:00

The holiday/pre-birthday blues have a bit of a hold on me this week, affecting my dreams and making me a bit paranoid. So needless to say, I was not quite in the mind frame to hear the “compliment” that was given to me today as complimentary.

She said “Oh, you’re a big girl. But you’re surprisingly toned for a big girl.”

A Big girl? I wear a size 8, sometimes a 10.

I am not the “anorexic chic” so popular in Hollywood these days, and certainly no one has ever accused me of having an eating disorder. But seriously folks…

Some of the most beautiful women I know are lush and round and curvy, the way women are supposed to be. We are designed to have layers, which keep our innards warm, so that we can create and sustain life within us. (Subsequently, we are more likely to survive hypothermia as well. Go Girls!)

The whole contemplation of today’s notion of beautiful women reminded me of yesterday’s encounter in Starbucks. I was waiting for my Gingerbread Latte, when a woman came in. Her 6 inch heels were a bit over the top for the 10am coffee run. Her rhinestone bejeweled jogging suit was the best in Juicy Couture (and will never see a moment of actual jogging.) Her breasts were melons of saline so ripe I thought they might pop if someone brushed against her. But most outstanding in her appearance was her face. Modern cosmetic science had so enhanced her facial features that I doubt she will ever be able to “unpucker” again. Additionally, when she approached the counter from behind me, I noted that she mumbled incomprehensibly. I can only assume it was some version of “excuse me”, but who knows!? Between her collagen swollen lips and her overly botoxed nasal folds, she couldn’t move her mouth enough to articulate the English language. This is “beautiful”??!?!?

What happened to Marilyn Monroe and Mae West? Where are the screen goddesses who were naturally bodacious? Kudos to Kate Winslet and Scarlett Johansson for being proud to be curvy and real, while still managing to pull off being beautiful.

Because if our only two choices are “12-yr-old-boy-thin” and “so-enhanced-you-can’t-talk”, then today's women are in a world of hurt.

editorial note: while researching the topic on line, I came aross this post which I found both fascinating and a bit terrifying

Sunday Scribblings: In the last hour

2006-12-03T12:16:00.000-08:00

In the last hour of the night, before sleep overtook her active mind and dragged her beneath, she made a list of all the things yet undone. She wrote from her heart, pouring out beliefs and goals, evacuating the small crevices where hope still festered in a largely bitter existence. She dredged up the very crispy bits at the bottom of the cauldron of her being, and she penned each half-burned dream onto cream paper, in a flowery round script aided by the easy flow of her purple gel uni-ball with the chewed up cap.

The last one stood out most harshly, mocking her with its incompleteness: "Fall in love"

In that last hour of dark dim lighting and deep heart stirrings, she mourned her many abortive attempts to lose herself in connection with another. To allow her walls to sink completely and leave herself, not defenseless...but open, to the experience of sharing. Instead of a history full of Hallmarkian tenderness, she looked back on a catalogue of grossly co-dependant relationships, thick with abuse and irony. The 'been there, done that" list of her heart's attacks read like a baby name book, only one where "David" didn't mean "beloved", but more "raving jackass" and "Tony*" was less "priceless" and more "psycho."*

A throaty humorless laugh escaped as she admitted defeat in all games important to her. Her family, broken as it was had left her behind long ago, and her friends had disappeared into a sea of unfortunate excuses. The only element of her life with harmony and humor had passed one week ago today, at an unforgettably sad moment in the vet's office, and now she sat in a lifeless room, in the silence of a falling night, wishing to blot out any memory of her existence at all.

She took the pages where she'd written all her failures and carried them to the bathroom, setting fire to them with a thin yellow plastic lighter someone had left on her desk at work. The low flames blacked the edges of the paper as they consumed their way across the written words, leaving ash and embers in their place. She discarded the remnants into the open toilet and chuckled once again as she realized how quickly and easily it could all be flushed away.

Turning to the counter, she saw collected there a bevy of medicinal remedies for a hundred imagined ailments, and like mixed jellybellys, popped any variety of color and shape into her mouth. Lowering her head to the spout of the rusty faucet, she drank only as much water as she needed to swallow the caplets and tablets that held escape in their grainy pharmaceutical hands. And then she returned to her room, and her bed.

In the last hour of her life, she rested her head on her pillow and wept until the pain faded away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* it's a work of fiction. No offense meant to any Davids or Tonys. Well, ok, no offense meant to any Davids, and to 99.9% of Tonys. That .1% knows who he is.

Sunday Scribblings: Hero

2006-11-19T13:38:00.000-08:00

What does it take to be a hero? Daily courage, or just an extraordinary moment? Firemen are certainly heros, as are police officers, and our troops overeseas. Is it about risking life and limb? OR just going beyond what normal life would ask of you?

This weekend, I saw "Stranger than Fiction," an interesting film wherein Will Ferrell plays an ordinary man who seems mysteriously to be the central character in a book which will end with his death. An unlikely hero, Harold Chik is an IRS auditor, living a rather humdrum experience, ruled by numbers. However, when he overhears the Narrarator's voice in his head mention his untimely and impending doom, he leaps into action to find the hows and whys of his death, and see if it can be stopped (or at least postponed.)

I went to the movie seeking an entertaining story that would allow me escape from my own daily routine, but found instead a film that wouldn't let me stop thinking about it afterwards. Would I, like Harold, seek out the cause of my demise and fight it? Would I live those last few days as if I were "truly alive", fullfilling the wishes of myself and others? Could I dedicate myself for that time to eat a juicy and succulent life, and so at the end, feel that death, however untimely was neccessary and not in vain?

and if I could do that under those circumstances, why do I not do it now? Why am I not living each day fully and vibrantly? Why do I find myself forever postponing and timing things out..... "well, in two years, i'll be mostly out of debt. I can do what i love then..." How many years have I, have any of us, wasted in that process?

Hmmm, hold on.... There have been moments. I've not spent it ALL looking ahead or behind. I have had a dabbling here and there of being completely and totally present. Where I've been as alive as alive gets, and enjoyed the view. In 2003, I participated in APLA's Marathon Training program. For 7 months of my life, I ran and fundraised to help people in the Los Angeles area who are afflicted with HIV and/or AIDS. And in the end, I did something I'd long wanted to do. I finished a marathon.

Right now, my friend Amandarin is participating in that same project. And while I do not envy her "runner's knee", her aching hips, her heat exhaustion, her recent shoe-blow out, or her constant struggle to fundraise..... I do know that there's not a feeling in the world like running that marathon. Oh, not just the crossing of the finish line (which admittedly is pretty spectacular). No, I'm speaking of another moment, one unlike any I'd ever known.

December 14th, 2003- I was running mile late-teens/early twenties, huffing and pained and wondering if I'd make it when I passed a group on the sidelines. It was a large bunch of yellow-shirt wearing APLA supporters, cheering and hooting and beliving in me. They held signs of all natures. "You can do", and "You're a hero". I smiled and waved. Then I saw him. He was tall and gaunt, and didn't look as if he had much energy left to be standing, much less cheering and waving a sign. But he was giving it all he had. And in his hands was a simple piece of posterboard, which read "You are saving my life. Thank you." Tears streamed down my face, and my pace quickened just a bit, and in that moment, I felt just a little bit like a hero.

So Amandarin, I wish you that moment. That one and a hundred more as you face this monster ride called "training to run a marathon". It's HELLA not easy, but it's worth it.

And to anyone whose reading this.... if you're looking for a hero to support, check out this lady or the team she's running with Phat Girls Running. Or go directly to APLA, and read about the hundreds of heros they train regularly.

Or try the Lukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team in Training The disease is different, but the love and caring and determination is the same.

Or Feed a hungry animal

Whatever it is that makes your heart weep and sing at the same time, go find it and support and be a hero for someone else. Cause I'm thinking THAT's what makes one heroic.... not JUST the courage or the passion.... but the ability to give and do that for someone else.

Here's to making the world a better place.

The Fringe of Danger

2006-11-16T14:28:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine, Ms. Scarlett, just came to me, trembling and crying and on the edge of a meltdown.

It seems that last Friday, she was held up at gunpoint, at an ATM less than a mile from where we work. The shock is just starting to wear off, and her conversation with the detective, in regards to identifying suspects in a line up, and the possible impending trial, pushed her over that cliff of emotion. I held her while she cried, and then sent her home ill. She was in no space to manage calendars or answer phones or in any way pretend that the world was fine and normal.

When I relayed the story to Amandarin she remarked that this was the second mugging she'd heard of this week.

Additionally, I just sent flowers to one co-worker for her sister's passing while another colleague is waiting by a phone at home, hoping for some good news regarding her grandmother's recent heart problems.

Laughably smaller, my radiator blew up two week's ago, and I'm just finishing a round of poison oak that I contracted around Halloween (during our pet funeral services).

So my question is... Hey Universe, what the hell is going on!?? October was a month full of deaths (for myself and others), and now November seems to be badly wired, waiting to short out and start a fire.

Is it too much to ask that we gently glide into a warm and uneventful Thanksgiving? I can't speak for the rest of the world, but we Angelinos could use a break!

Hot Cuppa Inspiration

2006-11-07T14:53:00.000-08:00

On the side of today's tasty beverage, I found this:

"My father said being an artist was the shortest road to the poorhouse, claiming 'real' work is something you don't like. I ignored him through oppisitional behavior, later reasoning that only an idiot sets out to find the poorhouse, not to mention devote himself to something he doesn't love. Instead, I discovered an interesting back road to the unknown, and deliberately without a safety net.

-- Russell Chatham, painter lithographer, author, publisher and restaurateur"

I long for that backroad. I remind myself that I am an artist, and a dancer, and a writer, and whatever more I may wish to be today..... and I long to create without that safety net.

which reminds me.... I recently found out than an old acquaintance of mine is running a school for Aeiral Arts. I think it may be time for me to take that webwork class that I'd signed up for in college (the week before I tore all the ligaments in my right ankle and spent months on crutches). I long to fly, to spin, to be that girl on the flying trapeze.

What daring things will you do this holiday season??

Limes of Love

2006-11-06T11:18:00.000-08:00

The ever-fabulous Amandarin, whose selfless actions brought Tag to my door in June, has once again worked with others to create a generous project of love and giving.

LIME PROJECT is a group of women who have come together to raise funds for a friend, currently fighting Hodgkins Lymphoma.

To quote the website:
We don't know who makes these decisions, but the support ribbon color for Hodgkin's Lymphoma is lime green. Conveniently, this is one of Heather's favorite colors."LimeSuckers" came about because well... pretty much everyone was suckered into it.

Most of us met on LiveJournal, a blogging / networking website, and this idea was hatched there, sprouting from the mind of Bronxelf (also known as Avril), for the group of us to produce and sell calendars to benefit Heather.

Not just any calendars..."naked" calendars. Tastefully done, of course, but still. Cheesecake sells.

That's right kids.... beautiful nekkid women, showing their ~~goodies~~ support for a friend in need.

So dig into your pockets. 2007 is coming, and you need a calendar! Not just one that tells you the days and dates, but one that supports a life AND has bold and beautiful pictures of women not afraid to bare it all to help a friend.

Pay It Forward.... Buy a Calendar!

Ebb & Flow

2006-11-02T17:06:00.000-08:00

Change comes rapidly, like a swift Autumn wind. Faster than the seasons can shift, faster than I can keep up. As John Lennon sang: “Life is what happens to you when while you're busy making other plans.”

*pause, to catch my breath*

Although co-habitation can be challenging, Tag and I grow ever closer. However, sometimes it is for unfortunate reasons. Just last weekend, we shared the heartbreak of losing a pet. Brave Neo, who traveled with Tag from Chicago, died inexplicably, leaving the bulk of our Saturday mired in impromptu services in the nearby park. This, added to the sadness of my Grandmother’s passing, has left me pondering the “dark time” and all its hidden gifts.

Traditionally, Samhain is the festival that marks the “End of Summer”, or the time of the Harvest. One tradition states that you could harvest until sundown on Hallows Eve, but not a moment longer. Whatever was not cut by that sunset, you left in the field as an offering to the spirits. From that moment, you could only look forward to the next harvest season; making productive use of what had been brought in, and sowing the seeds for the following year.

During this last season or so, friends have fallen away, life has run at speeds both hectic and humdrum, and of course, love has come to play.

For each birth there has been a death. For each Spring blossom that bloomed, an Autumn leaf fell to ground. Sadness and loss weigh heavy right now, as the days grow shorter and darker. I’ve been battling moments of anger and despair. Last night, in dance class, I found myself weeping, in a dimly lit room pulsating with music and life. I felt like I was a great black hole of energy, absorbing joy and transmuting it into nothingness.

My mood is lighter today, although not completely recovered. My thoughts are scattered and this post is challenging to write. However, underneath it all, I still feel a smidgeon of hope bubbling up through the goop-- the ever-present idea that it does once again get better, that wounds heal, and lessons get learned and at the end of the day, as long as one can surround themselves with friends and loved ones…. it’s gonna be ok.