you can actually hear the rain this morning and perhaps that's why i slept in till 10 but thought it was like 7. i swore that woodpecker outside my window was trying to kill me by depreving me of sleep but now i understand he was just saving me from slothfulness; and lou dog, i see now too that his howling wasn't malicious just howling- at the sirens that were probably caused by car accidents due to the rain. but i'm inside, safe and dry and honestly enjoying this forecast. because i can hear it, because it's not pussy rain like we usually get where you don't even know it's raining till you've been outside for ten minutes and your like, "huh, how did i get wet? oh it's raining." it might have even thundered last night, or i might have just dreampt about it. either way, it's going to flood around here and flood bad. from my window i can see the pasture below turning into a lake and a river now where the drive way once was. and to think we're on a hill.

in just a bit i'm going back out to ashland to get my 50 dollar haircut fixed. i went to the nicest place in the valley, i brought a picture, i explained in great detail how i wanted it and what she should expect from my hair, and still the lady fcked it up. i know i shouldn't be angry about it because it's just hair and whatever it'll grow back out but it's a week and a half from my wedding, now it's too short to do it how i wanted it, and i paid more money for a haircut out here in bumble fck backwards southern oregon than i ever did back in the fancy salons in dallas-there should be no reason why she couldn't do it right and out of all times to fck it, right before i wed. and not only is it nothing like the cut i wanted, she fcked up on the haircut she gave me. there are some things i can be fooled with but when it comes to music, food, wine, fashion, and haircuts-there is no pulling the wool over my eyes.

and that's what happens when you start reading vogue and W at the tender age of 10.

upcoming child related expenses:

hospital stay
diapers
little mozart dvds
bouncing balls
piano lessons
private chinese tutor
ballet/or baseball
frequent educational trips to europe
ice-skating lessons
swim lessons
dive lessons
tennis lessons
summer camps
puppet shows
build your own teddy bear
ice-cream floats
day fare to disney world
cotton candy at the fair
first crappy car
and last but not least,
college.......

but no worries, check out our savings.

how in the world brides to be planned their wedding pre-internet i will never know. i'm dead seriuos, it really is nearly impossible to even fathom how one went about it. perhaps it explains why the norm use to be a year long engagement full of wedding preparations. now-a-days( and i love things concerning now-a-days) , there really is no reason why it should take any longer than a month. of course, unless your one of those crazy highland park chics who must have their wedding at the methodist hot spot and therefore have to reserve the chapel ten years in advance. otherwise, like myself, in a mere day spent surfing the web you can arrange for your flowers, your catering, and have all driving directions to the variuos places mapped and printed out using yahoo maps. it's effortless, really. it would be nice, albeit, to know with my own two eyes what the flowers will look like-but, i suppose, even a bride who has been able to visit her florist isn't fully aware, until the big day, of the condition of the flowers or how well he/she arranged them for that particular day. the only way to accurately gage the future is to examine the past, and all that can be done via photo albumns and customer reviews.

as for the dreary task of registering: instead of pulling a rope tied around jon's neck down aisle after aisle of glassware and towels and lamps, i created an online account at target and crate n' barrel; and from the comfort of my apartment was able to inquire from jon, as he watched tv, what he wanted to be apart of in selecting and what he could give two shits about. it was painless for him and therefore painless for me. once again, it is no wonder pre-internet brides, or those who chose to go about things the old fashioned way, turn into bridezillas.

when it comes to weddings, the internet holds the key to the tranquility. that i'm almost sure of.

now, as i've been writing this i've heard something very disturbing about pregnant woman who experience ungodly amounts of gas. like me. the tall tell is that those sort of woman give birth to hairy babies just as a pregnant woman whose stomach looks like a basketball will have a girl and a watermelon tummy means a boy. i'm not soo vain that i'm mortified at an above average hairy tot, it's that i burb more than i breathe right now-i go to sleep beltching, i wake up beltching, i take a shower beltching, and so on so forth. it is non-friggin-stop. my fear is that, because of the incessant gas, i'm going to have a monkey.

"evalyn the monkey child",

understand?!?

it's not that jon isn't affectionate, it's that i am an affection junkie. there is no such thing as sitting on the couch next to me-it is more like me sitting on you or me wrapped up in your arms or you wrapped up in my arms or me massaging you or me scratching my feet to your feet- anything that consitutes human contact will do. it's nothing new, i've been doing it since michelle was big enough to squeeze. one of my alltimefavorite pictures is of michelle and i as wee little children sleeping: we are both in strawberry shortcake gowns, long blonde hair everywhere, and i have michelle in a death lock spoon. it's a classic.

but anyhow. i've gotten distracted. christmas. the wedding. the new microwave. yaddy-ya, maybe another day.

we have all been there: it's 11oclock at night and a wendy's commercial is parading dazzling golden french fries, a double-no-triple-my-no-pickle-cheeseburger, and a sumptous frosty. the craving is strong, a hercules of want, but the sofa is soft and all feeble attempts of raising yourself to a standing position results in fainting spells.

nature has taken over and the sofa has won.

for years has this, and similar, struggles made a fool of my cravings. that is why i was surprised the other night when the yearning for cinnamon donuts gripped me and i actually bundled myself up and made the midnight trip to the grocery store. even more amzingly, it was the first of many whims and wants to be fulfilled despite any and all comforts or obstacles.

the only explanation i can conjure up for this phenomen is the baby; that my little bambino offers me with enough motivation to overcome the state of being content. so when the rapture bleeds through the speakers and i feel the baby wanting to stroke that beat, no matter how tired or busy i might be at that moment, i give it up for the kid.

motherhood has begun.

what is the world coming to?!? thank goodness i saw them play at trees last year, otherwise i would have my foot shoved up my asshole right now.

this morning i'm day dreaming. day dreaming about the pair of camper boots i so want, the trip to barcelona i just whipped up in my head, and having seventy degree weather in san diego on the seventh.

since jon has known me i haven't done much in terms of travel or dreaming big but there was a day when i did and i feel that day beesching me for another round.

i'm not referring to the boots or the weather anymore, maybe the trip. but thinking of what it would be like to kiss the soil of the US goodbye, for awhile at least; take up an oversized scarf, another language, an unrealistic goal and just run as fast and as far as i can. unfortunately, talking jon into such an adventure is more unrealistic than making my home sweet home somewhere in europe.

a year or so ago i brought up the inevitable day when i would want to stretch my legs, dream big, and apply for a residence visa somewhere farfaraway-as i'm wanting now-and after much resistance we finally came to a compromise: he would be ok with me taking a few months here and there to do what i want to do overseas and i would be ok with only a few months here and there.

i suppose, until the baby is old enough to accompany me, i'll be happy to settle for that pair of boots and the travel channel.

you know your pregnant when...

you LOSE it in the 'chronicles of narnia'.

so painful to remember when he was himself; so much i don't understand and can't handle. how strong my jon is to be there for him through moments i would fold. like when robbie g. needed a shoulder to cry on and i left him with a heartbreak albumn instead. it's hard for me to feel so helpless when all i want to do is help, it's hard for me to hear someone spiral into insanity, to watch someone cry. i've never been one to display that vulnerable side of myself to anyone but myself and God. i would rather die. and i have from time to time. bad things have happened to me, things no one will ever know about but that's how i deal, i conceal. only when the wonunds are healed do i feel safe enough from myself to share with someone else. i would say i'm resillant, i can bounce back from most beatings and disappointments, and wind up, in the end, a stronger and more compassionate person because of it; but there are some beatings i could never imagine anyone coming back in one piece from. and that is the situation with him. so what, is it like jon said: that he won't make it; are we waiting for the relief of suicide or relapse to rescue him?!? would venegance allott to him over-due justice? when the cure is evil, where is the hope?

here lies my new obsession: pictures of my sister with her cat. all previous time consumptions have been filtered away, all i am left with now are pics like these. priceless and precious, i want to make their faces into calenders and buttons and postcards.

i want to put them in my pocket and fly kites all day long.

i want to create a fansite for them and host fan parties on their behalf. maybe make a cake with their names on it.

i want to have t'shirts made that say "I Rather Be Looking At Pictures of My Sister with Her Little Kitty".

i want to name a national holiday after them. or a road. maybe i'll just adopt a highway in their name.

i want to thank them on stage.

i want to call in the radio station at all hours of the night dedicating to them mariah carey christmas songs.

i want to do all this and then some because they are the cutest duo. ever.

the truck was packed with a backpack containing salami sandwhiches, potatoe chips, pickles, apples, raisens, cherrios, string cheese, and, after much time spent in walmart making circles around the sports goods and toy section looking for the sleds, one shiny red plastic saucer and a need for speed sledmat. we were heading for the hills, hoping for some snow. an hour later i was flying recklessly down a steep icy hill, backwards, screaming bloody murder all the way. and boy do i have a bruise and a headache to prove it. jon didn't think i'd go all the way to the top of the hill, as everyone else was launching at mid point, but it was my first time sledding and though i understand the dynamics of the physics sledding involves, i somehow seemed to forgot all such knowledge in the light of a higher, steeper possability. i don't remember most of the descent, as my eyes were involuntary closed shut, but do i remember when the killing device came to a sweet stop, someone's little dog came running over to me giving me kisses while jon stood a few feet away hunched over in laughter. now, it was jon's turn. he decided we better get a parking permit before we got a ticket so off we went to beckies cafe for some blackbery pie, hot chocolate, and, of course, the permit. oddly to my surprise, jon decided against getting the permit and suggested we go for a walk in the snowy forrest instead. now, i've seen snow like the snow we saw out there before...but only in movies. it was perfect and it was also a over a foot deep in some places. we trekked through, laughing at ourselves almost falling through the unknown deep snow, until we reached the river gorge. there my sweet love hid behind me on one knee with a ring strecthed out so when i turned around from gazing at the rushing water below that is what i saw.

i'm officially engaged.

the darkness here is real. and on a cloudy night, when the stars and moon are veiled behind ghostly billows, and the concealment of all light has been achieved, i wonder at my existence. nothing is everywhere, enveloping me in it's void until, that is, my eyes adjust. i begin to see my hand in front of my face and the old douglas fir beside me, but the rest of what i know to be a hill and a house upon that hill is now only a testamant of my memory and a good flashlight. and the thing is: it's only 7oclock in southern oregon.

i find myself waking up, waking up in the middle of the day with little to show for the beginning of the day and a hunch the remainder might not differ from that. the ambition is suffocating. we are thinking of a warmer place, a sunnier place but it all depends. i'll keep it as motivation, anyways. i've been looking for thoughts-a world of intrigue outside the discovery channel-but the only one i found worthreadingwhile was tainted. how in such a big world does that happen, i'll never know. i would think the separation of association would have more oceans or rivers or lakes or mountains or bus stops. i guess in some ways are all linked by virtue of happenstance or default or that which ties the past to the present: the unlikely likelihood whether we like it or not.

meanwhile, i'm missing those pivotal years where a kitten becomes a cat. the pictures on his myspace show the gradual change and i lament the fact that all i'll have to remember it by was his "view more pics". i can only hope little evalyn will know her aunt michelle more than i know her feline son, davy bowie. yes, i call him davy. or baby bowie. and when i lay down for sleep at night my mind takes me on little excursions where i find myself with evalyn doing things like feeding her green pea mush or playing peek a boo or imaging her teacher taking roll yelling out "evie eggert" to a "here" sweet little reply. but i don't know, maybe it'll be a landon or, as my father would like, a little fredrick the 4th. but that just would just be cruel.

in a spat of brutal honesty the other day i sent off an email to an old friend about this whole 'me being pregant' thing. as soon as i sent it remorse immediately sunk in: i was sure she would be now praying for the poor child i will be giving birth to in 7 months. it was an email that revealed how i don't feel ready, how bizaare and freaky i think the miracle of creating a life in your womb is, and how i...i wished i wasn't pregnant. i needed to feel understood and this particular friend is not only the non-judgemental type but she also provided just enough segway for me to launch into it. but it wasn't the thought of being the center for someone's disapproval that scared me, it was what i had shared that made me shake in my boots. the truth.

then last night i had this dream that i was swinging on a swing set while holding my child. and i remember feeling this extreme love at feeling my child's arm hold onto me as it lay in my lap. i woke up this morning with a love for my child for the first time. it's pretty awesome.

sundays will never be the same

christmas in my...

dallas had never so looked than the day winter had it's way. i was living on lower greenville at the time in an one bedroom duplex with a smu girl i didn't really know. the plan was that we would share a bedroom but come moving day i couldn't bring myself to sleep in the same room with leopard printed sheets. so every evening i converted the couch into my bed. like many of the other older houses in that part of dallas- our duplex didn't have central air or heat. and it was the dead of winter. there with me in the living room was the main furnace, a prehistoric giant of his day, with only one level to keep the gas light: full throttle. i slept with a wooly mammoth of a blanket that was so warm on most nights i didn't need the heater, but then their were those nights where even my blanket from antartica, as warm as it was, couldn't fit the bill; those are the nights we would light the furnace and all of the M streets would have to turn of their heaters in fear of global warming. in order i didn't wake up roasted i would fully open one of the windows directly behind my head. this mixture of freezing cold air meeting the mouth of hell stabilized the temperature in the living room at a quite comfortable level. albeit, it wasn't very safe but then again, as i saw it, neither was passing out from dehydration in my sleep. this one particular night, while i layed sleeping, something magical was happening; a sweet song was being played on every blade of grass, on every forgotten fallen leaf, on every roof shingle, and on every street from highland park to knox/henderson to lakewood to me on lower greenville. i woke up that morning to an array of unusual pecularities. for starters, the morning glow that was typically bright and brassy was sweet and celestial; the sound of passing cars was replaced with silence, silence that gave way to soft crackles and slow dripping water. i raised myself from the embrace of comfort and looked out the foggy window in curiosity...it was snowing, and it had been for quite some time. not knowing exactly why but instantly a shrill of joy shot through me at this sight. i jumped from my bed and dashed to the cd player. the day before i had been listening to el gato's (at that time) new single, 'christmas in my city'. there was no need to rethink the mornings music selection-i hit the play button and returned to my wooly mammoth. i spent quite some time that morning just gazing out that window towards the white covered street. i had never seen anything so beautiful or magical before- where the snow covered trees met along the street to greet eachother above- making a make believe tunnel for my make believe carriages to take my make believe families into my makers winter wonderland.

years have gone by since then without a single snow storm to challenge that memory. and while the snow laid last night has been tainted with morning rain, having jon wake me up in the middle of the night to show me the winter wonderland outside, is sure having me re-evalute first place.

i've been extremely fortunate to have found a group of great and fun friends. so fantastic, such good times that i have a hard time remembering ALL the stories and moments from beginning to end. like when steph lost her digi camera that she bought in japan at michelle's birthday party(see picture above). ryan fitz had taken over camera responsalibity, which in hindsight was a really bad idea since he and kate had just broken up and thus was drinking Alot. it seemed like everytime you went to scratch your nose fitzy and bright flashes were there: capturing the moment. no doubt there was to come from that party some real gems, like michelle laying on random people or tay flirting with a highschool girl or marcus breaking the hamcock by attempting to jump on me in it. unfortunately, the next day when headaches and giggles emerged at the recolation from the night before events the camera did not. we tried to pin the tail on the guilty one, we cleaned the house and our cars, we called people, but in the end the camera was MIA. fitzy said he gave it to me when we were laying on the broken hammock but i was half passed out and don't remember that ever happening.

then there was the time i ended up spending an entire night at baylor hospital. not as a patient but in the waiting room waiting for a patient. i can't recall how we all ended up in my car or where i was going but that is how it all started. cp, evan, shane, and i were driving down ross avenue when, for some reason, we decided to pull over and try to jump over these huge bushes. one after another we would run and jump but not a single one of us could make it over...then shane got seriuosly airborned and over he went crashing to the concrete earth below-breaking his arm. shane now lives in san diego and when he heard jon and i were going to get hitched down there, offered his professional hook-up to repay me for the night i spent in the ER waiting for him.

good times, good friends.

"Love is the place that you're drawn to.
Looking into space it surrounds you.
Love is that face that you're drawn to"

i've spent some time this morning searching some of my favorite stores websites for a white dress. i found one darling unattainable little number over at marc jabobs and another one on sale at anthropologie but dears... i think i'm going to ask my future mother in law to shorten my thrift store bought hippie dress. you know the one that i've always joked around about being my future wedding dress, yes that One. it'll go perfect with bare feet and lip gloss. as for what to do for "here comes the bride" i've come up with a stellar idea: i'll ask my favorite lyrist, now living in san diego, if he wouldn't mind strumming an ol' getair during the procession. maybe some lips, maybe something to take everyone wayyyy back. whatever i choose, if jonny v. takes up my plea, i know it'll be perfect. this is coming together just beautifully!

i had accomplished the most important: i had picked out a locale for the wedding. but not because i couldn't see myself getting married anywhere else but because invitations needed to be made so flights could be booked. it was a selection based on neccesatity, nothing more.

for the past two weeks the morning sickness has been crippling and, often, last throughout the day; disabling me from accomplishing or eating much of anything.

despite jon's argument that it only Just started getting cold here, i feel as if winter arrived just a week or two after we did. and almost as much as i miss my friends, my neighborhood, the allgood, and queso-i really miss sunshine too. which lead me to wanting a honeymoon somewhere warm, which lead me to wanting a honeymoon somewhere tropical, which lead me to browsing airfare to hawaii on priceline, which lead me to a cheaper alternative: a cruise.

however, with a baby on the way, me not having a steady income, and the duty and financial obligation of putting on a wedding production meant there would be no honeymoon...no cruise...no sunshine. and in the end a wedding neither of us really wanted.

so jon and i did exactly what needed be done: we cancelled the wedding in oregon and opted to do a small and intimate ceremony on the beach in san diego. and i couldn't be more stoked. no decorating, no catering, no fancy bridal gown we really can't afford anyways, no rentals, no boring dinner rehearsal, and no headaches. together with just our families and close friends barefoot on the beach. ohh yes, and a cruise to the mexican rivieria.

if i can pull myself together, this day could be immensely productive; if i could fight the woozies, i would really like to eat, like, everything in the fridge; if i could find it in me to get ready, i would, undoubtedly, love to go get myself a smoothie.

a wood pecker woke me up at the crack of dawn's bohinny so i'm a tad cranky. i've spent the entire morning thus far registering for wedding gifts online so i'm a tad fried as well. but i have a feeling it's blue skies from here.

so over breakfast, over the weekend, a wedding plan was put into action. i hate to spring it on my friends, family, and myself so suddenly; unfortunately, that's the way it has to be. as soon as i nail down the locale i'll have an exact date, but as for now, the tentative plan is the first week in janurary. ideally i would love to have it in lithia park come summer but as i'm learning their are a million little things to consider when day dreaming and dealing with new found reality. i sincerely hope this doesn't detour those who were planning on coming in the summer yet i completely understand how it would.

well, i'm up to my eye balls in things that need to get down.

when a spoonful weighs a ton

i really can't reveal. i want to because it's all i can think about, and trying to think about anything else is more than futile. it's amazing how i never noticed before the songs, the television shows, the commercials, or the aisle at target and the grocery store specifically for it; it's eye opening when your world recieves another world and more baffeling how blind you were to that world before.

happy birthday to 'the rach'. white russians and good times for everyone!

opportunist with great wit love myspace, clearly:

this is as wrong and disturbing as this. not to mention, really funny.

"You're so wise. You're like a miniature Buddha, covered with hair."
-Ron Burgandy

more than i hate thinking or feeling negative thoughts, i hate sharing them. (they) seem so petty when you look back, and so i usually try to, internally, wait out the storm. however, yesterday i let the shit fly and now i feel all poopy. yes, poopy. medford has some serious redeeming qualities: the horizon is absolutely beautiful and jon is here.

i remember a conversation heather and i had at a coffee house in austin while living there; i really liked austin-the trails, the music scene, the encouragement of earth conscience living, the shops, the variety of different things to be apart of or do, and just the overall "vibe"-but i didn't know a single person and since i couldn't find a job, i was still commuting to dallas every weekend; and so i was contemplating dropping school and moving back to dallas. heather had a similar experience when she went off to baylor for school; she spent 6 months in utter misery and then she met a girl in one of her classes and they became(and still are) the bestest of friends. she advised i give it 6 months before calling it quits or even fixate on the negative.

i didn't adhere to her council-i quit school and moved back to the big d. now, in austin, i have a plethora of friends living there. though i don't regret it, i know i would have found great happiness and fulfillment in a city i loved had i waited out the storm of loneliness. and since i didn't take heather's advice the first time, i'm taking it now.

broken down missie

i was telling myself to wait, give it time, put the goggles of perspective on, but the feelings of restlessness and discontent were heavy, too heavy and too much to push aside or keep inside any longer. i reached for the phone and called someone who cared: "i hate it here", i told jon. there it was: ugly and real, though a tad dramatic. he attempted at reasoning why i was breaking down: it was because i had nothing to do during the day, it was because there isn't much in terms of job selection, it was because i'm use to financially contributing more than i currently am, it was because their isn't much to do here in the winter, and it was because all in all, i'm bored; but all that would change, in time. i agreed with him that all those explanations were true, very true, and reasons in a way but the real deal was, and is, that i need city and that wouldn't change anytime soon. i need to feel apart of something bigger. i thrive off ambition and innovation, it gives me hope for purpose: purpose beyond being content, which is exactly the vibe of a small town. i don't want to knock it, for a lot of folks that is their cup o' tea. just not mine.

i'm really, really jaded with waiting tables. it was never meant to last this long, and yet it has. i would love to go back to school to get my degree; and medford, with SOU right here, cheap living accommodations, and financial aid waiting for jon, is a logical and ideal place to do it. however, the thought of waiting tables in addition to living in this small town for such a timely extant has me wringing my hands. i've been researching other alternatives that i could do while i'm in school to sustain myself, comfortably, afloat. the two possibilities would require certification that, in turn, would require a few months: massage therapy or becoming a flight attendant. the later my favorite. massage therapy takes about six months and 7000 dollars; becoming a flight attendant would necessitate living in another city for a few weeks for training and then be willing to relocate to one of their designated hub cities( seattle, portland, or denver). and that, the whole hub city relocation requirement, had the alternative seeking an alternative.

then last night jon gave me the go on portland, so next week i'm heading off to portland for a group interview(and to pick up my dad from the airport!!!). who knows what, if anything, will come out of it, but at least hope is back in business and the break down is under control.

don't mind if i do

beware: i have half bottle of syrah in my left hand...i already brushed my teeth, took out my contacts, turned off the tube, but somewhere from the wine journal to the kitchen i ended up with another glass, and on here. funny how these things work...after a glass and a half...and a hour later. never claimed i could hold me liquor, oh wait, yep there it is at the top. whatever.

well tonight ladies and gentlemen i cooked: i prepared the glaze, i grilled the salmon, i sautated the bell peppers, i diced the apples, i scooped the ice cream, i opened the wine, i light the candels, iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. goodness, i'm so self-absorbed when i drink, and not entirely honest at that. you see, jon, despite my urging him to let me take care of him, insisted on helping me. so the two of us, technically, cooked dinner tonight.

earlier this afternoon, while i was out birthday gift shopping in ashland, i recieved a gift of my own: snow! it was the wildest thing ever; and tomorrow, after i get a new friggin battery for the camera, i'll post *A picture of it.

*sour subject, and that's all for me.

why does it seem no matter how many groceries i buy i can never find anything to eat. what i want this morning for breakfast is a bowl of strawberries, pineapples, bananas, and oranges. but even if i had all those yummy things in my fridge i would still be in want: i'm terribly spoiled when it comes to eating-i would rather go to a cafe and spend for someone else to fix it for me. someone like the allgood. hmmm, a number one: eggs over hard, biscuit, sausage, a side of sliced avocados, oh and some apple butter for my biscuit. good gog, what i wouldn't do for a fix right now.

i've seriously considered how i could have michelle mail some allgood to me but every scenario my mind takes me on ends in food poisoning.

a conversation with rachel last night and a comment from tiff herself has me wondering, is she back in the big d already? goodness, i'm bursting with questions and hope that-that means her visit will, perhaps, be sooner than the spring. although, i feel guilty suggesting, and begging, for my friends and family to come visit me now: for instance, while i love it, it has been raining for over a week straight here. the spring time is the money ticket, i know this. i want those dear to me who sacrifice the finances and time to come spend time with me to have the best trip of their lives; i want them to be able to see the great PNW in all it's splendor, i want them to see the coast, to go kayaking, to go hiking, to see the waterfalls, etc, and etc. however, a trip now would most likely constitute of going to the movies and going out to eat. things one does on a daily basis in dallas. of course, there is skiing.

i have cards to make and a million birthday gifts to buy. a rainy day awaits.

here are some pictures from our road trip to oregon:


jon waiting for his chili and coffee at the
tiger cafe in june lake, californa.


me in front of the sierra nevadas.


later that day in yosemite national park.


looking down on the world below.

saturplay

not only am i good today, but i'm also having a really good day. jon and i started our day with some necessary cleaning which allowed me to mentally relax and put away my eternal to do list; then we set out with only ideas--mine was to go to eugene for the day, but with a winter storm in affect all across the state , the possibility of getting stuck there over night out weighed the desire for live music and fine dining--almost noon, we decided brunch was a must and so settled for a short excursion to ashland, a, very, mini soho-esque town not but 15 minutes away; there in ashland we stumbled upon a small restaurant nestled off the main drive in between a theater and a boutique. a menu posted on the door persuaded us in and once in the ambiance and aesthetics had us confident this might be our new favorite joint. indeed, after a delicious avocado scambler, mexican mocha, and blackberry pancakes presented with style and delivering in taste, it was a sealed deal. the day was overcast, chilly, and crisp-the perfect weather for a walking around town with your hands planted in your jacket pockets. we ended up walking to an old movie theater and, with every senior citizen in town, decided on seeing "good night, and good luck". i thoroughly enjoyed the movie where as in jon fell asleep. the contradiction of the message of the film to the current state of journalism and the media was very perplexing to me. in the movie our main character is on a crusade for contradiction, for people to disagree with one another in a civilized and intelligent manner, that without not only opposition of different ideas and opinions but also the encouraging of different ideas and opinions and the struggle to ascertain the truth from the two, that we are all in trouble. i have always whole heartedly agreed with such a notion and have always found it suprising that when i, in the past, have voiced a different set of beliefs and stances, am often greeted hostile by those who are suppose to be open minded. yes, i'm talking right and left. i, being on the right, have no qualm whatsoever with those who disagree. in fact, i have friends who can back me up on that i've said many times before how grateful i am for the left; this is because that is how balance is maintained. trust me i would be scared shitless if our world was run without an advocate for revolution and new ideas, no matter what that revolution entailed or what those ideas were. history is my best defense. but that doesn't mean i'm without opinions or ideas of my own, it simply means i understand that contradiction is the key to achieving balance, and thus, the greater good. but getting back to my good day: after the movie, jon and i walked around a little bit more looking for a coffee shop. with a caramel and peanut covered apple in tote, jon decided he rather make a pot of coffee back at home. after a quick detour to a music store and wine cellar, here we are and jon is, once again, alseep.

the same nasty bug that had me and jon knee deep in kleenex and dayquil last month has me at it's mercy once again. sorry, but i'm no good today.

this is the view from the front yard. nice huh?!?

cooking with karma, literally

sure, in the tenth grade i decided i was going to be a housewife when i grew up. in that same year i debated, despite the fact that my best friend was and is a technical mexie, against illegal mexicans working and living in the US. i took extremes. the ones everyone else was too p.c to take. not because they were things i necessarily agreed with but because, back then, i enjoyed a good debate and the only way of that happening was to cross the line. here i am, ten years later, and karma is catching up. for instance, a few days ago i received two unsolicited cookbooks in the mail from two totally different people. true story. jon had a good laugh with it but the coincidence was too much for me to laugh off. now, i have no plans to give up the ghost of personal fulfillment and significance just because i received two cookbooks in the mail on the same day, but i might make a nice roast as i map out my degree plan in sociology.

;)

the birds and the cows

having lived 20 some odd years in dallas i naturally became acclimated to the ways of the city: chinese delivery in the middle of the night, offensive driving, avoiding making eye contact with strange men and the homeless, brunch as a religion, patios as shelters, shoes as accessories, weekly publications to guide you in going out, locking your car door even if your leaning on it pumping gas, and the constant array of night life sounds. so normally, having moved to the sparse populated region of south oregon, i'm going through quasi-culture shock. this became more than apparent this morning when i was outside in the pasture chatting with my landlord, marion, as he burned heaps of trash; the cows across the street had, and still are, mooing incessantly all night long and all morning long-they had not only prevented me from dozing off to sleep effortlessly but they had also woke me up a hour and a half before i naturally do. being hallows eve and being in a slightly backwards town i assumed some bored tricker treaters were out there harassing the bovine. but that hypothesis went flying out the window when i woke up. so there i was in the pasture with marion, an elderly retired minister, expressing my dismay with the cows gibber gabber when marion pointed out i really was from the city and that the cows were making all that fuss because they are getting it on. it's cow mating season round here, folks.

"my sister is a slut"

that has to be the most interesting google search query for my blog to date.

lately, i've been thinking of re-launching this blog back to it's original intention: to share with my friends the hodrum so that the reality of the distance that separated eachother wouldn't seem so real. a synthetic overpass, if you will. of course there is email, an onerous task if one has anything beyond sitting in front of the computer for hours at a time to do; and obviously there is the phone for communication desires, and again one has to take into account "day time minutes", and the acknowledgment not everyone can chat when you can and then vice versa. i have my inhibitions. i also have season 5 and 6 of lost to watch. i'm hooked.

i haven't forgotten, i've ignored; too much has happened since the last time, as usual, and now i'm at a lost as how to fast forward, pause or rewind my thoughts.

so here is something simple: an exercise if you will, to breathe life into the art of reminiscing.

i love...

~peanut butter toast with bananas and honey on it
~puppies
~cashmere socks
~being called "darling" by an old timer
~sharing a bottle of wine with a friend under a star light sky
~the sound of fall leaves benneth my feet
~the distant sound of jazz
~kissing
~my fathers messages
~carving pumpkins
~chocolate covered gummi bears
~cobblestone streets
~pictures of st.petersburg, russia
~the way cotton candy melts in the mouth
~laying in laundry right after it's gotten out of the dryer
~being pampered, including, but not limited to, a deep tissue massage
~wasting an sunday afternoon on a familiar patio
~making someone's day, in the good sense
~my sister, my boyfriend, my family, my friends, u2 and God

medford, oregon is...

~small
~pastoral
~temporary

;)

i am...

~tired
~craving something sweet and elusive
~missing 'home sweet home' and all that entails
~looking forward to my father's upcoming visit
~not too sure what i'm going to do for a halloween costume (track star? dorothy from 'the wizard of oz' would be wicked cool, but i don't quite have the time or resources for such a costume.)
~now, going to bed

there was candle light and we owned the place. i never expected so many to show up, especially after last monday's bowling bust of fun. but indeed, one by one they trickled in dressed up, and, some, totting gifts. josh introduced himself as "a glimpse as my past" and admitted regretting not baking me a chettoo cake as i did for him nine years ago, stephanie passed me a little jeweled bag with the blue bird of happiness inside-- it was holds more sentiment value to her than a creative memories convention holds to a thousand housewives-- i'm honored to have it on loan; luanna was my wife for the night, micheal shared with me a bottle of serious barbaresco vino, i adorned a paris hilton engagement ring rip off, my lovely parents were there, and my darling sister made it all happen.

i thought i'd be going out in a bang, but it's occurred to me, more than anything, i'll be going out with enough love to last for all eternity.

next, spa day with the girls at the four seasons...bitches!

it's official: i'm head over heels for brmc's new albumn. i gave my world the spree, and we danced; we sang along; we walked in silly elation. i was so overwhelmed with loving them that it was only natural to desire the same fulfilment for everyone i knew. and now 'howl' comes along and so has that familar feeling. as jon has already proclaimed, "it's gorgeous". good god, it's more than that: it's friggin brilliant, it's down right perfect. today is my birthday. buy yourself howl, as a gift to me.

at a posie show in september an april boy told me about a band i should have known about long junes ago. early this morning i found this song on an ipod. how lovely.

Big Star - September Gurls

September gurls do so much
I was your butch and you were touched
I loved you well never mind
I've been crying all the time
December boys got it bad.
September gurls I don't know why
how can I deny what's inside
even thought I keep away
maybe we'll love all our days.
When I get to bed late at night
that's the time she makes things right
ooh when she makes luv to me.

what a day! me and dandy are going out for fried chicken. how's that for a pre-celebration?!?

yes, this binge train is still going at full speed. the show last night was fantastic. a little bit of raspberry vodka and soda, a little bit of smiling faces, a little bit of bright lights, a little bit of musical bewitchment, and a lot of friggin fun.

and now it's raining!!! i love this day already.

binge mode

leaving the bar at 2:10am, going out after work, getting high in the middle of the day...these are things i'm not really known for; these are things i hardly ever indulge in, and yet, recently, i'm the poster child. it's 4am and i'm still awake. perhaps it has something to do with being temporarily displaced. but more than anything, it's mostly just pure social gluttony. i know this sort of behavior all to well. back in my dieting days this was my staple: no refined sugar, hydrogenated, or processed food for an entire month, and 45 minutes of cardio every day; this sort of self-totalitarianism was preceded by (and by preceded I mean till the second before resolution was to start) feasts of junk.

not that moving to oregon is some sort of form of resolution. revolution, perhaps. however, there is a thread of similarity and continuity between the two, and there is the 'desired compensation from sacrifice' element in the both. my main reason for moving to oregon is painstakingly natural: love. the other reasons are just as postive and beneficial. for instance, to projectile myself out of a rut. dallas is great, and blah,blah,blah...but, the fact remains- dallas has served no greater good for my once innocent and genuine ambitions, ardor, and dreams. i'm stifled here. not to mention, the overall state of well being that will be gleaned by moving to a part of the country that is extremely focused on a healthy and natural way of life. yes, i'm excited about living somewhere i don't have to drive 10 minutes away in order to recycle. in oregon i'll have the chance to step forward: school, the motivation(and time) to refine a skill, opportunity to do something besides waiting tables (if i should want), and someone for me to be there for and have there for me; someone to encourage and be an encouragement for; someone i love.

tomorrow night centromatic and deep blue something play at the granada, sunday night the spree are playing, sunday i'm having brunch with a friend in from the big A, monday night is my bowling b'day party, this coming up weeknd my parents are here, engagement party on sunday, leave wednesday.

i'm going out in bang folks.

here lies the challenge: the momentous task of catergorizing; of deciding; writing. really, when was the last time i wrote an entry of introspective and informative value? rhertorically, too long now to pick back up the allegorical torch and attempt a sprint around the track.

michelle is lying on the bed with my childhood cat, clover. we're in corpus christi visiting my parents. for me, this will be the last time i'll be down here till christmas. in 15 days the adventure begins. my belongings wait in a storage space, i've put in my two week notice, going away parties are being planned, and the thought of goodbye tears up my eyes.

still not too many people know about the move. just a few weeks ago i broke the news to my parents, just two weeks ago i tolled my boss and my co-workers, and just last night i wrote an email to an old friend about it all. in past plans it never panned out, and in the aftermaths i would feel like a talltale teller. first there was london. i was to transfer with the four seasons but after arranging everything with hr i realized how difficult it was to recieve a visa. then there was romania. i had issues corresponding with the lady who offered to host me. finally after numerous letters and emails i gave up. then there was austin. again with the four seasons. i can't remember what went awry with that effort but something in true anti-missie fashion did. colorado. bust. austin. i did it; i drove back every weekend to work because i couldn't find a job there. a few days after i broke my sublease and quit school, the four seasons and gingerman called me to tell me the finally had openings and, both, offered me a job. but it was a week to late to put in reverse the resolutions in motion. i had finally given up; i faced the cards life had delt me and had decided it wasn't that bad. dallas wasn't that bad.

now here we are- oregon bound. and this time around i have a traveling companion-jon. we have a plan, we have reasons, we have eachother.

my father is leaving for work and now michelle is asking me if i'll go to blockbuster with her. our time here has been well spent: body surfing notable gulf sized waves, bowling, my mothers deliciuos and healthy cooking, scrabble at the coffee shop, and, for myself, half of freakonomics read. but now, now, it's time to snuggle up on the sofa and let the night usher in the morning.

seven months ago when we moved in, tiff and i both aggreed our quasi-uptown apartment was both a. too nice, and, b. too big for we lakewood/little forrest hills post-residents. but with the end o' lease approaching and my life partner now claiming the down under home sweet home, i thought it to be a good idea to begin the de-clustering process. 9 winter coats. 3 of which are mine. 5 of which tiff left behind. 1 of which is taylors. how did that happen?!? where once i cringed at the nakedness of my solarium i know take pride in it's coziness: it's daisies on the table, it's picasso print on the wall.

times up, maybe next time.

(barely) 6 feet under:

on the side of caution, all drunk/broken hearted/venting/vexxing/cheating/lying bloggers hope. hello little way back machine. ugh.

amazingly, so many of you are still here...well, at least that is so many of you are still out here. just half a hour ago jon and i talking about our bewilderment of magazines dedicated to online/interactive games; on how someone can get so immersed into something so seemingly unimportant. there are monthly magazines whose sole premise is birds, model airplanes, and automobiles. i've come to understand o.c.d is the "norm"; but in a society over-saturated with Ritalin, how is that plausible. it's safe to assume, for a self-diagnosis, that i might have a slight, and by slight i mean hopeless and detrimental to the happiness of my future, case of a.d.d. and as someone self-diagnosed with a.d.d i can't imagine ever reaching a point with one of my hobbies in which i assert such energy as to read monthly publications pertaining to it. my attention span begs me to instead: work-out, re-organize my cd collection, scrub the bathtub, read a few chapters in a book i'll never finish, plan the next days itinerary, calculate my monthly projected finances if i were to cease from eating out every single day, watch the news, watch seinfeld, watch trl, hate trl, this, and that. so it's a mystery, but i can't focus long enough on it to figure it out. and for the record, i hope one reading this does not come to ascertain that by coextending my amazement with the longevity of certain blogs to the conversation concerning generation o.a.c.d.a.d that i'm implying such bloggers are as paradoxical or overly fixated on that which is unimportant, because as any good *bleader knows, there is more substance out here than here.

after seven tired and hungry hours in jfk i thought i had learned my lesson. the plane was to depart at 7am. michelle was to pick me up at 6am. i was to wake up at 5:55am, just one hour prior had i closed my eyes. i had worked 14 something hours and was beat; i had written down days before what was to be packed, and in my sleep deprevation, packed it all. i was and i did do it all. at 5:55am i woke up and angrily rolled myself out of bed and to the bathroom--brushed my teeth then hissed at my reflection. michelle arrived in good spirits and with coffee. i hastily gathered the remaining items and we darted out the door into the gradual glowing morning.

tbc...

no, this isn't blogger burn out; and yes, i am writing without thinking about what i am writing--regardless of punctuation, substance, and style. i hardly have the time to read, anything. not blogs, not books, not the paper, not even the writing on the wall. which makes me feel crazy and empty, or maybe it's the emptiness makes me feel crazy, or, maybe it's the craziness that makes me feel empty. just functioning and playing all empty and crazy; knowing it's more serious than i take it, and blaming it on the fact i haven't touched a paperback in just as long as the last time i felt a hardback. everything is out of whack: priorities, goals, bills, my day planner, my closet, and the living room...total chaos. stretched so thin by expectations and "lifestyle". i'm ready for the northwest.

todays horoscope for we virgos:

Eclipse number two has arrived -- and with it, the urge to say exactly what's on your mind. Now, since you can expect rather odd and coincidental occurrences over the course of the day, it's a given that what you'll be saying will be a bit over the top -- at least to dear ones who aren't used to seeing you in this 'condition.' Don't even try to hold anything back, though. It's your turn to let go. Big time. They'll get over it.

and that's just the half of it...

i wasn't kidding:

tonight at nokia live

now, where to find a black wig and a pair of converse tennies?

having to pee. having to pee so badly i might not make it to the bathroom if i were to try. but this right here, this pussiant display of self vs self, this is self-control; and probably a sure fire way to develop a bladder infection as well. my roommate hurt her back, so i, the self-less, kind-hearted, and ambulatory roommate, has post-poned my daily itenary in order to drive my own little miss daisy to school for a very important meeting with the school's president. afterall, it was she and taylor who picked me up from the airport at 5am just a few days ago.

for the ride home

'Termite guts can save the planet,' says Nobel laureate:

"The way termite guts process food could teach scientists how to produce pollution-free energy and help solve the world's imminent energy crisis. Speaking at the Institute of Physics conference Physics 2005 in Warwick today, Nobel laureate Steven Chu urged scientists to turn their attention to finding an environmentally friendly form of fuel. In an impassioned plea to some of the world's brightest minds, he explained how he's leading by example, and encouraged others to join the effort which "may already be too late."
Chu, who shared the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1997, has begun studying termite guts – one place in nature where a key hurdle for carbon-neutral energy supply has already been solved. Termite guts take indigestible cellulose, which makes up the bulk of all plant material grown on earth, and convert it to ethanol, which even today is a versatile and popular fuel.
Chu described how he decided to leave the richly-funded precincts of Stanford University to become Director of the Lawrence Berkeley Labs to kick-start the effort. He has been cajoling his new colleagues, including 56 members of the prestigious National Academy of Sciences, to realise the gravity of the problem and shift the focus of their research. And, he says, it's beginning to work.
The US already subsidises farmers to grow corn to turn into ethanol, but $7bn in the past decade has been wasted because the process isn't carbon-neutral. "From the point of view of the environment," explains Chu, "it would be better if we just burnt oil."
"But carbon-neutral energy sources are achievable. A world population of 9 billion, the predicted peak in population, could be fed with less than one third of the planet's cultivable land area. Some of the rest could be dedicated to growing crops for energy. But the majority of all plant matter is cellulose – a solid, low-grade fuel about as futuristic as burning wood. If scientists can convert cellulose into liquid fuels like ethanol, the world's energy supply and storage problems could both be solved at a stroke."
This is where the termite guts come in. A billion years of evolution have produced a highly efficient factory for turning cellulose into ethanol, unlike anything which humans can yet design. By exploiting these tricks, says Chu, we can use biology as a solution to a pressing world problem.
Nuclear fission may be the holy grail, but in the 50 years since it was first proposed, the predicted time-to-market has grown ever more distant. Solar and wind power look appealing, but mankind has not yet discovered how to store electricity on a large scale. Ethanol – a chemical fuel which would release no more carbon than it took to produce, would be the solution.
Immense funding is made available to cure the "diseases of rich people" such as cancer and heart disease, says Chu. "If we can't cure cancer in 50 years," he says, "it will be tragic but life will go on. But if we can't develop carbon-neutral fuel sources, life will change for everyone."

wishing i was still there:

now we're rolling

man can not live on peanut butter alone-though i wish he/me could. during the course of a typical day, it is safe to assume, that i consume 5-7 tablespoons of it: for breakfast, for snacking, and late at night as a post-dinner meal. i leave lunch and dinner #1 open for other sources of nutrition- a smoothie if i think i might be getting ill, or i just need to feel extra healthy; one of those vegatarian enchilida microwavable contrapictions; a cheese burger and fries from Jakks; or, something just totally off the radar if i've over done it with the above mentioned. i'm a creature of repitition. but this morning, an errant spirit came over me, and i, while the coffee brewed and the waffles toasted, i got out the butter, honey, and mixed berries. crazy, i know. being still early and blonde to the root, the precaution in checking to see if the neglected butter was still good or not went right over my head. as i sat on the living room floor with tiff watching either the weather channel or cnn(i can't really recall. we watch both.) and enjoying my colorful breakfast, i realized that something was wrong. and that something was my waffle.

waiting to throw up,
missie rose

i'm sitting here at the mecca of yuppieville: the smu bookstore, and looking around i'm wondering-when did everyone, and i mean everyone, become so cool? so avant garde with fashion and poise? the dresses over jeans...just another staple of the urban outfitters sub-culture, the cuffed jeans with mary jeans...just another basic dressing essential of a soriety girl shopping in between classes, the over-sized sunglasses that years ago i was scoffed and teased for...now, "what's hot". for nearly three years i have kindly stood by and watched my aberrance of style become a costume of cool for post-abercrombie and doonie and burke kiddies. i thought this fad would pass-that soon enough i could go back to the way things were: the style i so deviously stole from the danes and my russian. but three years later, at a bookstore for spoiled squares, i see it's much more worse than i thought.

it wouldn't be so appalling if the taint of poser wasn't so overt in intention, and i probably wouldn't be ranting like some pious elitist of cool if i too could afford every fad-but then again, who knows-maybe i would.

i know i don't mind that the once underground world of blogging is now made into newspaper's columns of interest, or that the once pride in being involved in something new and cutting edege has been exploited by many of those in the media in hope to compensate for trailing so far behind.

i don't mind that zach braff made a quirky-not-really-indie-trying-too-hard-to-be-poignant film that spoon fed the masses bands such as the shins and postal service because i liked that cheesy ass film and witnessing publicity for bands that deserve to have mtv show case their crib over 50 cent's.

i don't mind shows like the OC who do the same week after week because, again, i like that show and i like the thought of sales rising for bands who deserve to be known by more than a handful of other artists, the guys in the record store, and the musically apt.

and with all that stated, the funny thing is that i really like ashlee simpson.

first attempt in writing: not so good.

....hours later

not to sure if things are looking better for round 2 either.

feeling: unsatisfied

the incessatiable me. the terminally hopeless bad speller. the girl with a smirk, with a doppey gaze, with a sparkle in her eyes, with a tear in her smile; the over dramatic, verbum sap!

i'm wanting, seriously debating, on delaying other tax return purchases for a digital camera. just thinking of all the fun that could be had. or all the fun that could be had in oregon, another purchase of debate. and yes, i debate. it's that feeling of being unsatisfied, maybe moreso and plainly put, a tad bit flummoxed with the end of scene.

i waited to hear, i wanted to hear, but nothing was said. strong and beautiful feelings over come with silence; years of emoutional silence, with eyes wide open. i struggle with the reality-with understanding, knowing but neverless, wanting. so very intensly, wanting to hear- needing to cease from assuming, one way or another, an audible tangability. if that's even a real word-if that even makes any sense or not.

so here, in the paranoi of the void, my mind begins to drift, and i cringe for safety and stability. even with these not real words, i am cringing-teeth grinding, "do i stay or do i go?". and if i stay, or if he follows, or if i go, can the unsaid now be natural? is inquiring in and of itself an ansewer in and of itself? or perhaps it is ensuring what is already assumed in optomism.

"so trivial", i tell myself, "i know."but being smart. what about being smart. moving across the country for the, merely, percieved plausible? i can not, or as the case will probably be, i should not move for that which is more hypothetical than it is substantial. and that i derive from the silence.

not without a fight!

verbum sap: enough said-used to indicate that something left unsaid may or should be inferred; word to the wise.

that one is most definately going on the fridge tomorrow for our word of the day. we thought that pills and cabernet would add something-or so, i thought i would medicate myself, open the bottle of red, set the mood, slip out of the room and into my bed, letting the gods of vino and sparklehorse work their magic in the living room. time will tell but i'm dying to know. wake up sleepy head, wake up!!!

being a morning person is such a curse.

a-ha, she's calling now.

enjoy sxsw, friends.

so much, so little. the story goes, around and around and around. i wonder if the sarcasm; the intentional over-dramatics is noticeable? in here. i wonder if that black skirt from old navy will still be there tomorrow? size 1's are always the first to go and the last to end up on sale. it's the only fashion woe we skinny people should ever bitch about. now, to be short-we shorties, have an abundant assortment of, understandably merited, complaints: jeans made only for amazon women, knee length skirts that make us look like pentecostal hobbits, and the annoying size 0 dress that places the boob slots on our tummy instead of, ahem, our boobs.

you should see my little sister, she's pratically a foot taller than me and painfully attractive. i've never been one easily prone to jealousy (zip it, mister.) but about jr. high, when the boys in my class would tease me-accusing me of needing a phone book to see over a car dashboard or placing text-books under my dangling mary jane adorned feet as i sat studiously in my desk, i often thought of my little bigger sister, and bitterly inquired the almighty if he had accidentally given the little bigger some of my birth right inches. when tenth grade rolled around, that hot pubescent august, not only had i finally cleared five feet, become a woman, but i also let my schtick over the height heist go; i finally had boobs, and after endless lonely summer days spent on the texas tornado and the conquistador whilst my friends whipped past me on speeding and flipping carts, i could alas ride the flashback too.

the boys had a new target anyways: a red headed pistol equipped with sticks and stones, and daddy's money to hide her pain in. she and me, somehow always ended up in saturday morning detention together. i remember my other girlfriends would come waltzing into bible class on monday morning; gloating quietly, the lucky gal would pass a note under the desk revealing in scribbled penmanship the three hours spent in detention flirting with hottie so and so. me on the other hand, i never once in my countless saturday morning hanging out in the school cafeteria, had the chance to hang out or play footsy with one of the cute boys. just with the problem child, footsy excluded.

it was problem child that first introduced me to the world of tongue rings and atheism. we would pass the early morning hours writting poetry and bouncing philosphical ponderings from the pop machine. she had a dark sense of humor and i loved edgar allen poe. i imagined one day she would dedicate her life to satan as prank and end up in hell for all eternity. instead, problem child ended up pretty normal-wearing designer jeans and showing up at every "it" show. one would find it hard to believe that once upon a christian highshool, she was such the problem child in saturady morning detention, every week.

earning saturday morning detention wasn't difficult, let the record show. three or more tardies and your ass was theirs. punctuality has never been one of my stronger attributes, but as the years have progressed, i've gotten much better. mrs.king would be proud, dare i say. but it all depends. i don't really think that with me, character traits such as punctuality or perservernace has anything, or much, to do with a lack of strength, but with my inability/disdain to prioritize between instances such as: a quick stop at starbucks for a much needed espresso versus getting to work on time. i've learned the hard way to know thyself; and with such inner insight, i know i'll stop for the espresso everytime, and thus, i know to organize my time in such a way that i am able to afford every insufferable whim of mine. i've heard, knowing and understanding your opponent is one of the key elements in winning strategic games such as chess. not suprisingly, i've found that i am my own worst enemy. classic plot for a tragedy, or a comedy.

i've gone on much longer than i anticipated: waiting, hoping that jon would call me back and help me fix a computer glitch so that the burning of all cds may begin. i've worked way too hard- clicking incessantly on "import", clicking repeatedly "get track names", then to "create new folder", and for the love of god: typing in the band and album names! most of the pirating was to be for him anyways. how can a man live without northern soul and grace? two of the best albums of our time! this is intervention, a requested intervention at that. and me, my diet is lacking some most neccesary iron and wine. though i'm pretty confident that some damien rice, neutral milk hotel, velvet underground, pilot drift( a little n.s with alot of o.s), and the likes will comfortably quell my appetite for the time being.

for no other reason, but another.

where did we all go?!? drifting off into space; into spaces of space, with our secrets, and longings-desperate for meaning and literal for substancial intention. like others. we take our grins, our double meanings, and create some sort of percieved verve; and, in the soft perplexity of chaffing engagements and clicking clocks, shall disappear into never never land.

the end.

from my older sister living in sri lanki: perspective

"Well, the mental picture you paint is all I need to hear - I'm glad your moving to a less stinky area :) The situation here is crazy. Remember how it was after 9/11? Everyone was flying flags, hugging the ones they love, being kind to strangers: that's the thing about tradgedies. People are touched by the realization of how short life is and how much love we feel towards each other. On this island you see men holding hands, girls walking arm in arm, children who leave their parents house only after their married and that's usually not until their 30's. It's like Mexican families - gramma, uncle and cousin are all immediate family members and usually reside within the same domocile. But these things aren't new here. They didn't start happening after the tsunami - it's always been like that here. Tragedy has always been at their doorsteps, walking their streets, lurking in their neighbors house. This country was already taking each day and cherishing it. These people already openly loved one another and were kind to strangers.

Some days here in the city it seems like nothing has changed. The destruction was to the south and north of Colombo but, miraculously, missed the 30 km of coastline of the city. The other day I was at the health club where we work out. It's actually a Hilton Resdience Hotel and it's where Brett lived from March until August when we moved into the house we're in. A man was wondering around the bar, talking to people. One of the waiters told us the man lost his wife in the tsunami. In my mind I wondered, why he was still here. Why doesn't he leave? Does he want to stay? Is he unable to find the magical 'closure' that's suppose to begin the healing? Or, like Brett, does he work here in Sri Lanka and lived in this Hotel with his wife, his wife who is now gone.

Other days you hear the impossible. A bus swept off the coast of Sri Lanka washed up on one of the islands of the Maldives. Another story of a girl in a hospital, around 7 or 8 years of age. She doesn't remember her name, who she was here with, she has complete amnesia. No one has called looking for her. Then you hear about miracles. People who left just one day early from vacationing, a couple driving along the coast who decided to go and look at a waterfall in the mountains and when they returned everthing was gone including the road they'd been on; a small factory that faced the ocean moved a mile inland just two weeks before the tsunami hit.

The city hasn't changed, the people really haven't changed much either there's just a new word in their language now - tsunami. It's the story's that have changed and its the foriegners arriving in the airport who have come to help the people who live here. And the ex-pats. I was grateful before this disaster to the people living here and the kindness they showed but now there is a gentleness in my gratitude. And there's something else I feel too, but I can't describe it. The word appreciative is probably closest to how I feel but it doesn't quite fit the feeling. I guess that's something I'll have to think on.

Hope that helps paint a picture for you of what I am seeing here. No major physical damage where I am but emotional trauma.

Love ya bunches - give Michelle a hug for me then have her hug you for me :)
Shannon"

not by any means of intention is this blogging thing coming to an end. i feel it to be more of an natural elimination; the shuffling of commitments; a sooner than later, later. but who knows. i tried skateboarding tonight...what a riot. i was holding a cig with one hand, a beer with the other, while breezing through a warehouse on 'my board'. no, not my board, literally; just trying to hip to the lingo. it was fun and i think i could be good. make that golden. i think i could be golden. yes, golden. that's nice. i've always had this premination that there are some things, if ambition and preserverance applied, i would be awesome at. like ice-skating and gymnastics, sculpting and somethingology. i'm a vault of potential, what can i say...the salty dogs are, definitely, wearing off.

like most things in life, finishing my new york saga is more effort than it's worth. but i'm in a mood tonight. an awfully dangerous mood. the type that involves me frozen in my car at 1am, listening to sinatra, and watching the neighbors sprinkler make a puddle in the street. not reflective, not pre-occupied, not enamored with this or with that, not trapped in some thought process, simply, mentally, lethargic. a tad bit tipsy too, perhaps. there has been a lot to take in today, but as i sat in my car just a few minutes ago, i can honestly say that i was blank as a blank and it felt nice. after sinatra, i let the silence in, even though i hate that silence: the silence so silent it in itself is loud, is obnoxious, makes your ears want to bleed and your heart beat a little faster, unsteady in perfection. i use to make myself sit in my car till i absolutely couldn't take it a second longer. like holding your breath under water, just 30 seconds longer, 10 seconds longer, breathe. i did it till this one night when the silence was so loud that i crumbled into tears. just pushing the limit, my weirdness, a limit of, in an audible and contradicting (non-)sense, the invisible nihilism. or an ear infection....i'm not sure. going to rock shows can do that. in fact, thanks to radiant, my ears are buzzing as i write. and being past 2am, my bed looks down right tasty. on that note,

sweet dreams.

part 2...

exactly on schedule, the plane hits the run way. it was as smooth of a flight as i have ever been on. i contemplated praising the pilot on my out but shortly came to the conclusion that i, knowing nothing about flying, might come across as someone trying to be a know-it-all by complimenting on something i knew nothing but the comfort about.

walking through the terminal to the baggage claim, i thought about 'the terminal', the movie. i remember someone telling me that it was based off of a true story-and while watching the movie weeks ago, how the thought of it being an actual account versus a fictionalized script, affected me deeply; on how cruel everyone was to this helpless and victimized man. and although the terminal was filmed in and about jfk, how incredibly similar la guardia mirrored the appearance of jfk. but it was the cruelty tom hanks character received that i found to be puzzling. this was because on my last trip to the city, i experienced nothing but kindness and helpfulness from new yorkers: a girl in a bar offering me a cigarette, an old man on some street in china town, after looking at me looking dumbfounded at a map then back up to the street sign, asking me, with the gruffiest new york accent imaginable, if i needed some help with directions, the couple in the subway suggesting places i should visit, and the friends of erik who enthusiatically cheered for me each time i got up to bowl.

as i stood on the corner outside the airport, sweetly waving my hand for a cab like they do in the movies, a cab driver pointed at the sign behind me, which read, "taxis ->". i must have looked like a total goof but the people behind me didn't chuckle, they just kept on moving. as did i, but with rosy cheeks.

after waiting in line for over half a hour for a taxi, i'm finally in one and on my way to the lower east side apartment jackie(rachels sister) found for us on craigs list. the cab driver is telling me about when he was young. his accent is strong and i have a vexxing time at understanding everything he's telling me, but being conscious of the moment at hand; of feeling the coolness of the pleather seat become warmer each second i'm slumped over it, of the reflection of me-of the tassels of my hair that had mysteriously fallen from my pony tail and the cream wool scarf swallowing my face, staring back at me from the night lit maze of senescent apartments and dodgy streets outside the window, of this conversation between two people from two different worlds--i doubt my previous suspensions of this trip being a mistake could be true, even despite the yearning in my heart to be on the opposite coast in another type of automobile with a man i can verbally understand.

to be continued...

real world: nyc

to my right was the hov lane. it stretched out ahead of me gleaming and sparkling with the possibility of uninhibited speed. in less than forty-five minutes, flight 412 would be taking off to la guardia with or without me. and at that moment in time, painfully snailing through traffic on 635's pre-5 o'clock rush hour rush hour , i was afraid it would be without me. the stress levels were at their highest, i could feel the anxiety welling up into tight knots within my chest and adding heat to my face-i still had to drop off jons parents mini van to the park and fly, catch the shuttle to the airport, check in my bags, and haul ass to my gate. i took a deep breathe and closed my eyes for some buddha reflection: "you should not fight what you can not control". i repeated it silently over and over and decided i would stay in the traffic trapped lane despite the need for speed; that i would do my very very best at making my flight, and if i could not, then i could not. sure i had worked my ass off for over a month to do this trip. sure i had spent over a month pinching my pennies, nickels, and dimes. sure i had decided to follow through on my word of going to new york with the girls over a later request to spend the holiday weekend with the devilishly good looking, jon. sure i would be missing out on, what i assumed would be, a week full of priceless memories. sure.

to my right, is a barren field. the blades of grass are dull with color. out in the distance bleakers, or something of that nature, paints the horizon with sci-fi imagery. closer in view, is the wing of flight 412's plane. i'm sitting, still trying to catch my breath from the sprint in, astonished that i made it and curious if perhaps i shouldn't have; questioning the possibilities at why it seemed everything was against me making it on this plane. of course, being prone to epic stricken curiosities, i speculate that the plane will probably crash, and such that i will die, or that it was just a busy day and i wasn't as prepared as i should have been.

to be continued.