“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things” © Henry Miller

So here I am, and at this point in my life I think I know enough about living to spend the rest of my days being happy. I know what love is, I’ve experienced it in many forms and I’ve given it as well. I know what ignites my spirit and how to obtain that. I know who loves me and who doesn’t. I know who suits me and who doesn’t ;) I am content with who I am and who I am becoming and that, dear friends, is truly a blessing – to know. Not to wonder, not to guess, but to know within your heart. But knowing and doing are two separate things, lol. While I know what to do and full well who I am, that doesn’t mean that I always do what I should or that I don’t sometimes forget myself. I procrastinate, I sometimes lose focus and fall off the wagon, but ultimately I get back up and continue on in the direction that suits me. It’s not a race, after all. I’ll get there. *We’ll get there. We are moving slowly, as we should, actually. Last night’s dinner was the first in a long time. It was truly like starting over, which will be a bit challenging but necessary. After all we’ve been through, we needed a fresh start, with past sins erased and new lessons learned. Our whirlwind romance from 1992, about 20 years ago, is a blur. The feelings we felt then can hardly be recalled in their original form but they’re still there. A lot has happened since then but I do know now that he does love me and I love him.  And that is enough. I know that we are both human and both capable of making mistakes. It’s never too late and you’re never too old to enjoy and improve your lot in life.

“Love who loves you.” Now I finally understand what my grandmother meant by that. She didn’t mean that we should settle for unhappiness or force ourselves to do something that we don’t want to do, or love someone we don't want to love. She meant that we should appreciate and recognize who’s most important in our lives, to choose wisely, when we're ready to choose love and not chase after the trivial and meaningless, suffering. For the longest time, I was fighting with that sentiment because I didn’t understand it. But hindsight is truly 20/20. I have clarity now. I needed time to live (some more), learn (some more), compare and contrast, and space to roam and I spent the last three years doing that, in addition to all my 30+years of living and learning. I’m happy with where I have arrived.

More on how I'm feeling

405 Friday's :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aNohMBC2Zo

I'm jamming on the one *tee hee hee

It's a 2 post kind of day :)

I totally crack myself up

Every once in a while I’ll have a senior moment, like trying to remember who slayed Goliath. I initially said Samson. Then a little while later I thought to myself “hmm. That’s not right…Samson was the long haired fellow in love with Delilah…” After a while, I stopped worrying about it and let it go.  Eventually, though, I realized that it was actually David who pummeled Goliath. But hey, I was close.  At least they’re both biblical characters and not totally unrelated. No harm, no foul, right?  Nobody’s perfect.  And that’s my tendency. I’ll run with whatever instantly comes to mind, even if I’m not entirely sure, and then when I think about it later and realize my error, I laugh at myself.  If I can, I correct the error and all is great! If not, oh well.  All will still be great.  I do whatever’s possible and move right along with life.  I just hope I don’t end up with Alzheimer’s disease when I’m around 80 or so.  The only possibly good thing about that might be that I’ll be blissfully unaware of whatever ugly memories that might otherwise plague me.

I was reading in a magazine that your mind state controls your destiny.  Great expectations yield great results (keep chugging on past those road blocks! And make sure to enjoy the trip!).  Optimism keeps us moving forward rather than to the nearest high-rise ledge. If you’re pessimistic you will never make progress in life simply because you’ll constantly be standing in your own way, unable to move forward and reach alternative realities. Can you imagine where we’d be if our ancestors stayed dwelling in their caves, afraid to live?  Back in Africa, hungry and dusty as hell, that’s where!  Thank God they ventured out on hope and faith and didn’t view anything as either good or bad.  It is what it is (my mothers’ all-time favorite saying) 

Anything is possible if you can imagine it so.  The mind is a powerful thing and hope and faith are strong motivators that are beneficial to your health and overall survival. It makes sense, right?  If you believe in a positive outcome you are more likely to do what’s necessary to make it so.  Like taking your vitamins, eating well, exercising, working harder, and saving more money – all of which are recipes for better health and prosperity, which in turn reduce stress and increase happiness.  And we should all know that a dose of happiness in the absence of brooding sadness can cure us of some of the worst maladies.  Of course, let’s not get crazy and be too overly optimistic though, having completely unrealistic expectations, like being able to actually fly ;) that’ll kill you.  So do everything within moderation and reason, folks.  Yes, we will all inevitably die but why waste time focusing on the end of your journey when there’s potentially so much wonderful road ahead?  Go forth and flourish!  Don’t be a cave man/woman dreaming of better days.  Try things, make mistakes, laugh at yourself, and try again.  That’s called living. 

Check out this inspiring article about laughter as a cure

http://health.howstuffworks.com/mental-health/human-nature/happiness/laughter-cure-illness.htm

And if you want more, read this:

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-second-noble-truth/201012/the-four-part-cure-happiness

I’m going to sew!

I ordered my sewing machine the other day so there is no more half-stepping allowed! I have to put it to use and not let it collect dust. But more importantly, I have to use it so that I don’t waste my money! I’m so excited. It’s going to be the main focus of my free time for the next few months. As soon as I get home from work I’m whipping it out (heh heh) and creating stuff. Or, at the very least, I will be learning from the mistakes that I will surely make. Ha! All of the ideas in my head are just screaming to come to life. “Make me!” they’re yelling. So I shall. I shall go forth and make stuff.

I had a great afternoon yesterday. Came home to a clean house, organized it some more for added peace of mind, watched two great episodes of G. Garvin (gosh, I love him) and Design Star (Meg totally deserved to win. I can’t wait to watch her show), colored in my sketches, downloaded some inspiration from the internet, and started a scrap book of ideas with magazine clippings. Tonight I have class but tomorrow I plan to continue my sketches and clippings and reading up on how to print them. This weekend I’ll be heading to Universal with my mom, my boy and Rhyann (hopefully) and then on Sunday, I’ll check out the fabric store for more ideas.

I realize that it’s going to take some work to repair things with The Ex. We’ve both done a lot of damage to each other but I think our bond was strong - strong enough to survive a few catastrophes. We’ll see. I’m moving patiently, hopeful, yet bracing myself for whatever the outcome may be. I’m fully aware of our past together and how it could very well shape our future. If anything, I’d like to at least be on good terms with him again. I’ll settle for that. I think he might be open to that.

December is the next great meteor shower and I aim to see this one. I totally spaced and missed the Perseids one in August when I returned from Costa Rica. But I’m going to catch the Geminids one, if I have to do it from my backyard alone. But the plan is to gather a few close loved ones for a home cooked meal and camaraderie and then sit outside somewhere that’s super dark (we may have to drive far out for this) and watch the meteors shoot by. The show is expected to begin around 9 or 10pm with approximately 50 meteors per hour. I’m going to have my wishes ready for wishing.

Done with Kermit

I’ve decided not to date anymore. The last 3 frogs I’ve had the displeasure of sharing time with were creeps and weirdo’s so, I’m calling it quits. Yeah, I’m good. It would have to be a REALLY REALLLLLLY cool and awesome guy for me to agree to another date. The guys I’ve been meeting are making my ex look like a dream boat in comparison! Smh. They are skeevy, and grimey, dumb and conniving. After my last date ordered a shit load of sushi, despite me telling him I was fine with just my two rolls, he put the bill in my face as if to say that I owe him. I mean, he literally held it up within inches of my face after I’d already acknowledged seeing the heart that our waitress had circled the total with (I’m sure she did it because we were clearly on a date and she works for tips). Anyway, I felt so uncomfortable. And throughout dinner whenever he wasn’t bragging about his lifestyle, he kept talking about “doing your homework” on a person and Googling them to get their personal information. That’s when I realized that he had my first and last name because of the stupid caller id on my cellphone and could easily look me up. Ugh. My freaking address was online (I’ve since requested to have it removed)! When the date ended, he wanted me to kiss him and I declined. I haven’t heard from him since, which was a week ago, and I haven’t called. I suspected during our conversation that he got turned off the minute that I told him I have a 16 year old son. The look on his face said it all. I certainly hope I’m right because I don’t want the hassle of telling him I’m not interested. He creeped me out and I don’t trust him. This whole ordeal reminded me of how much I enjoy being single, without the hassle and stress of another person invading your space. Maybe I’ll get a dog for companionship, lol. But seriously, I have been thinking about adopting a pit bull. I love those dogs and my boy does too.

Unfaithful

There are so many women who turn their heads and close their eyes while the man they’re devoted to shows them no devotion. He cheats, he wanders, he does not care as she does, he is faithless, cannot be counted on, should not be in possession of anyone’s heart because he is too careless. Yet these women make-believe they are safe and sound in his hands, the same hands that betray them, and would rip their hearts out as mindlessly as blinking. *She opts to play the Cinderella role even when her reality is stark and grave, naked and nowhere near secure. I saw the wickedness in his eyes when he ignored her call in favor of a conversation with me, a kiss from me and all of my attention at 3am. It was like a thrill passed over him knowing that he was being and could be, because she allowed him to be, callous with her heart. No remorse or guilt was visible, whatsoever. He had license to do whatever he chose. “She knows not to bother me,” he said over dinner. “She’s okay (with me cheating) as long as it’s not in her face.” So he chose not to consider her feelings. He acted like she had none. Now, he didn’t possess my heart in any capacity. I had no respect for him, no faith in his humanity, no desire to trade places with her. His flesh, for that moment, his attention for that time being, was my only concern where he was concerned. I pitied her. My guess is she stays because she wants love at any cost. She pretends that she is loved, that he is in her life because he loves her, unconditionally, as she does him. But there’s always a condition or ten with men like that. He stays because she loves him unconditionally. Who would so quickly dismiss their own personal idiot? She has a good job, she makes it possible for him to live the type of lifestyle he enjoys living, she is convenient, she makes things easy, she turns her head when he cheats and closes her eyes and pretends that he is devoted to her, while he stays out late with me. “She doesn’t have anybody out here but me. Her family aint here and she only has a couple of friends that she hangs out with every once in a while,” he told me. So she’s all his, to do with (or without) as he pleases. I guess she was sitting at home while he was having dinner with me.

Despite his many flaws and his lack of love and respect for her, she loves him, I presume. Or maybe she’s in love with the idea of him. She is extremely vulnerable, putting her faith in such a man. If what he told me was true.  He is a liar, after all. Although none of that was really my concern. It is men like him that make me burn the fairytales carved into my mind. I have no esteem for any man who lies for sport and cheats, like a snake slithering in low grass during the high noon, he is obvious and wicked. He is so arrogant that he doesn’t realize he is ridiculous and, more often than not, a target himself. He thinks he’s getting over, that only he knows what devilment he is up to. Sort of like a child playing a game of hide ‘n seek with his eyes closed yet he is standing in plain sight. Just because you cannot see me does not mean that you can’t be seen. Women know – the ones you’re cheating with, as well as the ones who turn their heads and close their eyes as you lie and cheat on them. We know. We’re just better at putting on the charade.  For our own sake, we pretend we are blind – I got what I wanted out of him, easily, and she’s getting to pretend that she is loved by him. That is, until the pain of his carelessness builds up and she snaps – out of her fairytale and on him. Then he’ll call her crazy. As if he is exempt from responsibility.
If I had a nickel for every attached man who approached me with a wolf ticket, I’d be rich…partly from selling him his own ticket.
I once indulged a cheating man out of boredom, lust, intrigue, and simply because I knew I could. I made no promises to anyone I didn’t know and was only true to myself. I haven’t done it since and I don’t plan to ever do it again. It wasn’t much fun. But I don’t regret it at all.

Just a few things...

Since I'm pecking away on an iPad.

Very relaxing day
No pressure, no stress, nowhere to rush off to or be, so I just rolled over, smiled up at the ceiling and took a deep... breath. Today I repurposed some things around the house, had a few eureka moments, made a batch of delicious deviled eggs so that my imitation crab meat wouldn't go bad, ate about 6 of said eggs, returned some shoes to Aldo in the mall, bought a new lipstick, had lunch in the food court, did some early Christmas shopping in the mall (as well as around the house, :D) and found my New Years Eve dress on sale For $15 - a metallic little Kenneth Cole number. Now I'm back home, watching the remains of the day sink down behind my neighbors' house, about to watch a movie.

He needs more than I can give
It's clear to me now that someone I know and care about is nowhere near strong enough to cope with difficulties on his own, and I'm nowhere near equipped to handle him on my own, what with my regular old human powers and such. He needs a super SUPER duper woman with the strength and courage of ten lionesses to handle his weight. It's more than I can bear and, although I used to think I could save him, I now realize that we'd both sink and I'd likely be the one to drown if I tried. He worries me a bit.

I can see the future and it's bright
But just last night I admit I was worried. I couldn't see anything but darkness. I'm no longer 21. I'm starting to look my age, even, lol. Well, actually, I'm just starting to no longer fight looking my age. I'm growing old gracefully and I still look good for a woman in her 30s. I lead a much better life now than I did when I was 21, that's for sure. My preferred social scene these days is a meal with good friends, going to see a play, calling my mom, a jazz concert in the park, game night at someones house, making ice cream with my ice cream maker, or chilling in my backyard with a good book or O magazine in the hammock. I'm happy living a slow-paced, artificial stimulant-free, simple life.

I had a talk with my ex last night. I think he's beginning not to hate me, which is good. It truly is a thin line.

I bought season passes to Universal Studios last month. I'm thinking about using them for the first time this month. We'll see.

Now that I've unplugged, I feel so much more productive and happy. The nonsense has been
eliminated.

Letting peace be my guide - Unplugging

Yesterday was my first truly stressful day since before my vacation began on July 29th. The day officially ended for me at 8pm, and by 9pm, I was in bed asleep. But, as with most highly stressful days, I didn’t sleep well last night. I had way too much on my mind so I was restless, tossing and turning, and hot. So, at around 5am rather than lie there and continue to struggle with sleeping (I actually woke up at 3am, but I tried to go back to sleep), I decided to get a jump start on my day. I put on a load of laundry, washed the dishes, took a shower, got dressed, made breakfast, paid a couple of bills, folded and put away some laundry, went to the gas station, drove my son to school, and made it to work ten minutes earlier than usual. This was in an effort to combat potential stress brought on by missing a few hours’ sleep, rushing to work, and panic about being unprepared for my day. Usually, on mornings when I wake up before 6:15am, I lie in bed and fret about lack of sleep and time escaping me. And that is always a bad start to a day. I get up groggy after having lost the fight with sleep, can’t find anything to wear so I end up looking like a vagabond as well as feeling like one, make it to work later than usual, and, inevitably, my boss rides every last nerve I have left, as he did yesterday. This time, though, I decided not to fight things and let peace be my guide. And to continue this peace, I’m unplugging myself from the internet for a while and decompressing. People online can be toxic, miserable, egotistical little trolls. If you say something like “the sky is blue, such a pretty day” you are guaranteed to receive angry backlash from a myriad of hateful people just looking for an argument and dying to insult you. They will insist that the sky is not blue, it is periwinkle, or gray, or turquoise, or that anyone who is concerned with the sky must be an idiot, and who in their right mind would think a blue sky is pretty anyway…etc., etc. It’s usually the women who do it the most, although many men are bitches, too. It means a lot to them to be able to get online and attempt to derail a person’s day, and they spend all day long trying to do it, day in and day out. It used to be that you could exchange ideas, learn and teach one another. But now it’s all high school and cliquish, and those who were miserable and insecure back then, are reliving their misery and insecurity on message boards all around the internet now. I encounter enough catty, insecure, bitches in my regular day-to-day that I don’t have to engage, I definitely don’t need to add more.

Then you have the nosey Alice Kravitz types who “befriend” you on that social networking site, only to nose and to boast and brag about their so-called lives, when most of their time is spent online boasting and bragging, which leads you to wonder just how much living they’re actually doing. Or who they think they’re fooling. Someone I know and hang out with from time to time is attached to her phone and that network. Her phone beeps every time someone says anything on that site, and she checks it each and every time. While hanging out with her, she is constantly checking and updating her status, apparently seeking validation and approval, and desperately needing attention. As if anyone truly cares. It’s pointless. Those who actually know and care for me can reach me without the help of that network. So, I am logging off, removing myself, and remaining blissfully unaware of whatever issues those people have going on. It’s neither important nor beneficial and I have more important things to concern myself with; I’m breaking bad habits and focusing on what makes me happiest.

I’m Related to Mermaids

My cousin and her children have OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder, if you don’t know) and they don’t realize it. My cousin is a clean freak. Her apartment, children and body are immaculately clean. Good, in theory, right? Nobody likes the opposite of clean. However, her obsession with cleanliness is causing problems and she, her children, and my mother are in denial about it.
For instance, her daughter came to my house to visit me a few months back, sometime during spring break, and within two days she’d taken 6, 30 minute-long showers. A bit excessive, right? Here’s how she did it: she’d wake up in the morning and right after breakfast she’d take a long, luxurious shower. Then we’d leave the house and go to say, Target or the mall, and she’d come back to my house and take another shower. And then, right after dinner at around 7 or 8pm, she’d take yet another long shower. She’d repeat this pattern the following day. Over the course of two days, that was 6 showers at 30-40 minutes a piece. So, naturally, I was concerned since I own my home and have to pay my own water bill. But yeah, she won’t be coming back to visit until she gets her cleanliness issues rectified. Anyway, just the other day my mother calls me like she does every day, and her gossip for the day was how my cousins landlord had called her to complain about her water bill being too high. The first thing my cousin and my mother think is that my cousin’s nosey neighbor is “hating” on her and called the landlord to complain about my cousins oldest daughter, who is 25, moving back in. Um, that is ridiculous and I let my mother know that. Even though her neighbor is a fat, nosey, hating, busy body, logic would dictate that her water bill just might be too high, considering everyone in her family bathes all day and night for 30-40 minutes at a time like they’re part fish. And there are 4 people in that household – her and her three offspring. Well, my mother thinks I’m wrong. She thinks my cousin’s neighbor is blabbing to the landlord about her daughter moving back in. I think my mother and cousin just want to complain about my cousin’s neighbor. It’s pretty idiotic. Here you have a house full of mermaids and you think it’s odd that the landlord is calling to complain about too much water usage? Come on, now! So not only am I related to Mermaids, I have a couple of wacky hens on my family tree.
Oh, and my cousin also itches uncontrollably and complains that her skin is too dry. She’s taking some over-the-counter meds for it but refuses to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe her skin is giving her problems because she has OCD and spends too much time bathing herself.

Building a Life

After a big break up, it's hard work gathering up all the pieces of your life that are yours and leaving behind what was. I met my ex when I was just 16 years old and from that day forward he was an integral part of my life. I grew to love his family very dearly, even watched children grow up and go to college and start families of their own. In the meantime, the life I'd fashioned became ours and no longer just mines. I was in it, he was in it, our families were sprinkled in there, too. And all of my childhood bonds had fallen by the wayside. Then, more than a decade later, we broke up and I was unrecognizable. Not entirely, of course, but it took some getting used to. I had to rebuild just about everything. My routines, my expectations, my social life. Outside of my mother, he was my closest friend. And the other friendships that were still standing weren't very strong. One day I wrote out a list of my friends and it didn't sit well with me. I wasn't confident in the bonds between me and anyone, many of them were fair weather, fickle, "see you once a year or so" friendships. So I set out to build new, lasting, stronger friendships, and thus far I believe I have about 3. We don't have ten years under our belts yet but we're getting there. We're building. I just have to be patient and faithful. Making friends as an adult is much different than it is as a kid.
And then there's dating. I wasn't quite sure what I was getting into with that, lol. I've learned a whole lot and it's been very interesting. Finding someone to be my +1 has been like searching for a needle in a haystack. Either there is no chemistry between us, one of us likes the other but the feeling isn't mutual, or we're a perfect match except he's already taken. Or he lives in another state. I don't fall to pieces over it though. It took me way too long to put myself back together after The Ex. I just know that this, too, is going to take some time and patience, and diligent effort on my part. Social relationships are complex. Rebuilding a life from the ground up takes patience and I'm focused. It can get scary at times, wondering what the future will bring or how long it will take to bring what I need, or who I'll be when when it finally gets here. I want to love again and be loved. I want close, strong bonds with other human beings. I'm up for the challenge. I have the rest of my life.
The way I envision things, I will be happy with my +1, a bit older but wiser, living a relaxed lifestyle where we are the center of our worlds. We'll have plenty of personal interests that we can share with one another, plenty of friends who love us, we'll travel, we'll try new things, we'll teach each other, and learn and grow old together. That'd be a happy ending. But whether it goes that way or not, I won't die an unlived life. Even though these are my plans, they are peripheral. I'm still busy living, thankfully.

Back at square one (with spoilers)

Ugh! I might as well just stay here since I inevitably end up at this very spot time and time again. This evening my ex's sister invited me to a posh movie theater with cushy recliners and waiters bringing me free food and dessert all night, to see the movie "One Day," and it was the most realistic and depressing love story I'd ever seen. It wasn't fake romance, the kind of the love that many many movies have portrayed where the couple ends up together and everything is perfect in the end. Nope, not at all. It was sad and pathetic and realistic. The kind of real life love story we go to the movies to escape. I'm glad this was free and, were it not for the cushy recliners and the delicious free food (God, that lemonade was to die for) I'd be pissed that I wasted an evening watching that movie. And what's worse is, Anne Hathaway's character did exactly what so many women I know do - she led a miserable life, pining over a man who was living his up until he couldn't live it up any longer and had nothing left but baggage and nowhere else to turn...so he settled down with her, the woman he'd loved all along but never more than he'd loved himself. And then she gets hit by a bus. And she dies.
When the movie ended my ex's sister and my 26 year old niece and I could only sigh at one another and relate. Men are stupid and we love them anyway, like idiots. Why does love have to be so complicated?
I'm rambling, it's late, and I believe I'm being lied to, once again. I'm always skeptical but I'm usually right. I wish I weren't though. Guess I'll grab a blanket and get cozy over here at square one. Looks like I'll be here a while.
Good night.

“So go work on your house...

…and forget about it.” © Under the Tuscan Sun

That’s exactly what I aim to do – work on the house, and anything else that needs working on, and forget about it. “It” being my love life. I’ve dwelled on it long enough, don’t you think? And I’ve come to realize that there is no point in dwelling any longer, especially when there’s so much work that needs to be done and happiness that needs to be had. So this past weekend my step father came by to work on my yard. It was beginning to look like I’d begun a game of Jumanji back there and a lion would appear out of the foliage at any moment. And while he was back there I made him a sandwich, sliced up an orange, and then sat down to put together my hammock stand. It was truly exciting. I’m not kidding. I cannot wait until it’s sitting in my backyard and I climb into it and read a book or flip through a magazine. I have so many books on my shelf I’ve yet to read.

After I’d put the hammock stand together I wrote out a list of things I’d like to do to the house in the order I’d like to do them. Or, the order that made the most sense to me:


- Pour a concrete foundation behind the garage (bbq central)

- Paint front porch (it’s faded glory blues)

- Install new front door (curb appeal)

- Expand and remodel the kitchen (the heart of the home and the bane of my existence due to its size)

- Expand and remodel the bathroom (why not?)

- Paint the house (makes sense if I’m going to expand the back of it)

- Fence the house (the rugrats next door need no more access to my lawn)

These are mostly big ticket items, yes, but I plan to work as slowly and as comfortably as my money will allow. And in the meantime, I have other things, “inside” things, to work on. I’m budgeting fiercely and I’ve set a goal to save 10k by next summer. This is also Miles’ senior year of high school and he’s playing varsity football, which means he’ll need lots of cash for uniforms, homecoming, prom, pictures, yearbook, and whatever rigamoro the kids are being told they need these days. Then there’s my little side project, the little seedling as I’ve come to call it, that I am hoping to build into a Big Deal. I’m still mapping that out and it is also slowly coming to fruition. Labors of love, these are. But while I’m working on all of this and focusing on the things that I’d like to see grow for the better, I’m beginning to really like someone. The caveat is that he lives in another state. Womp womp. On the bright side, his living so far away forces me to accept that it is very unlikely that we will ever be in a position to be a couple, so whenever my mind begins to veer towards thoughts of possible dating and romance, I quickly snap out of it. These things just aren’t possible to do with hundreds of miles between us, so there’s no need in fantasizing. It’s quite unfortunate though because I do like him enough. But I have to accept what is real and logical. I am a grown woman, after all. So while I enjoy the times that he and I talk (the other day for an hour) or text, I don’t invest too much into it and I take it for what it is – a very lovely distraction. Although, the optimist in me refuses to let go of the idea that anything is truly possible, and that life is stranger than any fiction as well as any reality that I’ve cooked up and consumed, so while I lay outside in my new hammock, reading and daydreaming, I will certainly dream of him and the possibilities of him and I…however fleetingly and unrealistic they are, of course.

My Trip

(**This took me about an hour to write and load the pictures so please excuse any grammar mistakes and what not you might find if you decide to read it all. And this isn’t even the entire trip! Just a summary
of main events)

The afternoon sun slants through the clouds, every flower is in bloom. A variety of insects scurry about on the ground and through the moist, humid air, a rainbow of butterflies float by – blue ones, especially, which are the most popular, orange ones, white ones, and green. There is the color green everywhere. As I step out of the Mitsubishi SUV, a canopy of ruby and forest green trees of different kinds, palms and ferns and plants I’ve never seen before, crouch together above my head, fine grass and moss rest beneath my feet, and all around me bugs are buzzing. I am in Atenas, Costa Rica.

Costa Rica is rolling hills full of life – human, plant, and animal. Chickens, goats, and stray dogs meander alongside the windy roads we traversed to get to our various destinations, driving over bridges and rivers, past fields of pineapple, coffee beans, rice, sugar cane and other agricultural exports. Cows, bulls, and horses were often spotted grazing behind fences. Thick vegetation abounds. There are only two seasons in Costa Rica – winter and summer, Patty’s father explained to me as we drove along. Winter is in June, July, August and September and is typically humid, between 75 and 90 degrees, depending on what part of the country you’re in. So you can imagine what summer must be like in December, January, February, and March. I was grateful we chose to visit during the winter.

Our flight was late but after roughly 10 hours of traveling from start to finish, with a delay in L.A. and a stop in Houston, we finally arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica where my friend Patty and her parents picked us up. We drove to the nearby town of Atenas, where Patty's great aunt and uncle live. Juan V (short for Juan Vicente and usually heard as “Wonbee”) and his cheerful wife who Patty says reminds her of Mrs. Claus, live in a house that “Mrs. Claus’s” parents built more than 70 years ago. It’s a modest home on a large piece of land which is shared by their adult son and daughter, living in three separate peach colored houses. All of the homes are situated behind a concrete wall and a solid metal gate that opens from the street to a tiny bridge, built by Patty's uncle. The sweet smell of cast fruit (pronounced "cahst"), permeates the air there, and ninja bunnies hop around the jungly landscape. Ariel, Patty's 9 year old cousin, calls his bunnies "ninjas" because of the way they hop high into the air before smashing into one another in battle. The newborn bunnies were tucked safely away in a makeshift cage that sits atop a pole to protect them from ground predators. They sniffed our hands and gently nibbled our fingers through the cage feeder opening.

Where everybody knows your name…and how to find you
In town, everybody knows everybody. The homes and businesses in Costa Rica have no addresses. I’m not kidding. The mailman locates you by using coordinates and landmarks (i.e., “Go 100 kilometers north from the bank, 500 meters east...next to the hair salon…”). They were advertising and selling GPS systems but I’m not at all sure how they’d work and I didn’t get a chance to ask. But everyone seemed to know just where they were going, including Patty’s dad who drove us all over the place. It was as though he knew Costa Rica like the back of his hand.
The radio station played Return of the Mac a lot, but mostly they played a mix of reggae/reggaeton (in both English and Spanish), American/English rap, and songs in Spanish. Lots of people get around on bikes. Mausoleums at the cemeteries are above ground. Sort of like New Orleans, they don't bury their dead because of the rain. (In N.O., the land is too low to bury without hitting water, I’m told). There is a lady who goes around creating art on rocks. She paints beautiful landscapes on random rocks alongside the roads there. We drove around looking for them like we were on an Easter egg hunt. Many of the homes have tin roofs, and are made of concrete, sitting flat on the ground without a foundation. And tile. Carpet is out, tile flooring is in style in Costa Rica. Everywhere we dined, Patty and her mom ordered fresh cast juice and Miles and I ordered pina (pineapple juice). Freshly squeezed fruit juices aren’t hard to come by and were quite the treat for us, but the locals prefer sodas (ie, "eSprite").

Cool memories:
• Flying over islands and other unidentified land masses
• Watching novellas with shirtless, grave digging men (lol. Miles couldn’t understand why they had to be shirtless digging a grave at night. So Patty explained to him that it was to please the soap-opera watching audience – mainly women. Sort of like how unrealistic it is that busty, teenaged girls sit around pillow fighting in furry lingerie and panties for hours on end to entertain an audience of men. That doesn’t happen but lots of men like to watch it on T.V., nevertheless)
• Ariel and Miles playing Halo, so excited and happy about life
• Iguanas everywhere

• The water pressure in Juan Jose’s (Juan “Ho’s”) house dictates temperature in the shower. A blast, and it’s cold water you get. A trickle and it’s warm. Worst shower experience ever. I later learned by watching House Hunters International, that it’s called a “suicide shower” because it could electrocute you if you’re not careful :( Supposedly, they’re common in Central America.

A Simple Kind of Life
Not just a life of practicality, Patty's aunt and uncle seem to tie their lives to the land their house was built on, the beautiful oasis sanctuary that her aunt’s family had claimed and maintained for decades, secluded from the rigor of the small town behind a wall and a gate. They clearly don’t need many worldly things to find pleasure in their lives. Once a week they take painting lessons on the veranda of their home with a local painter who visits them. And they’re getting pretty good! The day we returned from La Fortuna (I’ll get to that adventure in a bit) they were all on the veranda painting beautiful landscapes that appeared to be coming alive before our eyes. They don’t sit in front of the television or the computer for long hours at a time every day, nor do they spend all of their time and money in shopping malls on materialistic crap. They go to work every day, paint in their spare time, and eat well and read the paper over a home cooked breakfast every morning, and entertain visiting family members and friends with jokes and stories from the old days. No rush, no fuss, no stress, just living. Making life.

As we sat outside listening to Juan V tell us funny stories about his days as a mannish alter boy, the black and white spotted dog, Oreo, strolled from person to person happily wagging his bushy tail, nudging his soft wet nose in palms and being petted and rubbed with affection. The ninja bunnies stealthily hopped about in the garden, being as mischievous as bunnies could be.

Barcelo Tambor – the all-inclusive resort
On our second day in Costa Rica, we got up early and had breakfast outside with Juan V and his wife. Black beans and rice, scrambled eggs, and bread with homemade guava jam, coffee (of course, it’s a staple in Costa Rica and what it’s most popular for) orange juice, and cast juice. Belly’s full, we packed up the Mitsubishi and set off to catch the ferry headed to Tambor Beach in Puntarenas (meaning “point”).

On our way through the city, it rained, making the drive feel so serene mixed with the bright green tapestry along the way. And even though there was overcast and no sunshine when we boarded the ferry, the humidity was thick enough to choke on. As though there was a big humidifier plugged in somewhere emitting steamy moisture into the air. I stood on the top deck, bare shoulders, legs, chest and neck clammy with sweat, then suddenly it would start to rain again; fat drops of warm water that blended in with my sweat. And, as suddenly as it would start to rain, it would stop. Then like clockwork, a breeze would sweep through and cool us down just a taste. A breeze so soft it was like the last drop of cool water in a cup, just barely satisfying, a tease, causing me to silently pray for more. Then, maybe, if we were lucky, a more substantial breeze would blow through, relaxing the senses a bit. When we exited the ferry in the Mitsubishi SUV, maneuvering around potholes up and down windy roads, we drove over several rivers and creeks whose banks were snuggled tightly against lush vegetation. It was a breathtaking sight but a difficult one to capture with my camera while in a moving vehicle, unfortunately.

Me vs the Sea – It was a draw?

Finally checked in and resting in our room at the resort, we could hear the waves crashing from the lanai, which really made me smile. I grabbed my book and headed out to the lanai to read in a hammock. But, after a few seconds, decided to take it down to a chaise lounge on the beach where I could hear and see the beauty of the coast in surround sound stereo. Laying on the beach in a lounge chair, letting the breeze tousle my already wind-swept hair while day dreaming of pirate ships drifting in on waves (along with logs and other debris loosened from the recent rains. That was the only bad part – murky water), coming to rest on the beach and hide. Maybe even bury some treasure. It was a sweet fantasy. Then, out of the corner of my eye I spotted Patty’s parents in bathing suits. “Go and get your suit and get in!” her dad waved to me. I wasn’t quite ready to get in, though, so I smiled and passively told him “Nah. Maybe later.” But he was relentless, he must’ve said “Go and get your suit and get in!” at least ten times until I finally gave up my weak ass fight and went back to my room to change into my bikini and drag Miles along with me. Miles ended up loving the ocean more than I’d expected. In no time at all he was far out there with Patty and her dad, jumping over waves. The beach at Barcelo Tambor is quite peculiar in that it doesn't slope. You can walk out for miles and the water will remain at waist or chest level, depending on your height; flat land, the same depth miles from the shoreline. Our first day in the ocean was great. It was warm and the dark brown sand beneath our feet was soft.

I ended up having a good time, too. But on the second day, the ocean had swelled up a bit. The waves were taller and angrier and had pulled many rocks from the shore, so our steps on the second day were no longer cushioned by soft brown sand. Instead, we were stepping on a fierce combination of sand and awfully hard rocks. But mostly rocks. I jumped over a wave to keep my hea

d above water and landed painfully on a bevy of rocks. My old feet and knees were done after that. So I moved over a bit, and then a bit more, but I couldn’t find a spot where there were no rocks. And as each wave built up, it would suck me in, drawing me into its belly. That is how people get swept away, I figured. It must have taken me almost fifteen minutes just to get out of that water and back on dry land. And I wasn’t even far out there like the rest of them! I was just feet away from the shoreline. What an awfully funny sight it must have been, watching me fall and stumble on rocks in my bikini, crawling and being knocked around by the oceans fist. At one point, I couldn’t even stand up. Wave after wave just clobbered me. When I finally made it out, I fixed my hair and headed for the pool and a daiquiri. I’d had more than enough of the ocean. Thankfully, no pictures exist of this debacle.

Patty's mom, Alicia, told me there are several types of beaches in Costa Rica. Manuel Antonio beach has soft white sand, Playa Conchal (meaning “shell”) is made up of billions of crushed seashells, another (I forget the name) has black sand and clear water. I wished I could see them all but there wasn't enough time.

“Oh, Moto…”

On our second day there, Patty, Miles and I went horseback riding. Moto, my attitudinal horse, started out the gate trying to bite any other horse that got too close to him. I mean, it was hot and sticky out there and flies were abundant so I understood his annoyance, but he worried me a bit. He seemed to be on autopilot, doing what he wanted to do or what he was taught to do by whoever broke his spirit and turned him into a slave horse. I’d pull the reigns the way Juan, our guide had told me to (tug right if you want to go left, tug left if you want to go right, and pull back if you want to stop, kick if you want to go faster) and Moto would still veer to the side of the trail to stop and nibble on plants or keep whatever pace he wanted to keep. I decided that as long as we kept with the group, we were good and that I wasn’t going to be the boss of him. He probably needed a break, poor thing.

When we’d made it to the beach, he kept looking back at me as he trotted along. Probably making sure it was me on his back after our brief discussion at the top of the mountain. I had looked him in the eye and whispered sweet nothings into his ear, sensing that he was not at all pleased to be going out that day, probably on his tenth or so run. I rubbed his neck and mane and thanked him for his trouble in getting me up the muddy mountain without throwing me off his back, because he could have easily pitched me down the mountain side as we traipsed up through that knee-deep mud, over protruding tree roots, through high, scratchy weeds and along a narrow cliff where a rocky stream flowed below. I held on tight for dear life, then. When we finally reached the summit of the mountain to take in a panoramic view of Tambor, we were greeted by the sounds of a howler monkey who wouldn't reveal itself for a photo op. It just kept taunting us with its cranky-sounding howl, probably for being on its turf. By the time our two hour ride was up I was thanking God for Henry Ford and the invention of the automobile. I don’t know how cowboys and cowgirls did it; my inner thighs were so sore.

As we wound down for bed that night, I loved the drumming of the rain falling on our patio mixed with the acoustics of the waves crashing onto the beach.

La Romeria – The Pilgrimage to La Negrita, our reason for being there
We checked out of Barcelo Tambor at 1130am and began our quick trek back to Atenas to pick up more luggage, and then on to San Jose, where Patty's grandmother lives and where we were meeting the rest of her family for the pilgrimage to pay homage to the Virgen de Los Angeles, the black Madonna, in the church in Cartago. We made a quick pit stop for lunch at Las Cazuelas de mi Tierra. Delicious food! Handmade tortillas, rice, beans, chicken, plantains, salad, and freshly squeezed juice! I could eat that meal every day for lunch for a month and not complain.

Our pilgrimage began at 630pm from Patty’s grandmothers house in San Jose, and ended at 1110pm, close to 5 hours later at the old church in Cartago. My knees hurt from bending with every step, my shoulder blades hurt, my back hurt from climbing up hill, my hips hurt, and, of course, my feet hurt, but they hurt the least of all, ironically. Thousands of people started walking days before us, and many thousands walked for days after us. By the time we had finally reached the church and stood in the crowd to enter the church, my body gave out. 10 minutes after reaching the church I stopped moving after 5 consecutive hours of steady movement, and I couldn’t go any farther. I needed to sit down and rest. To LIE down and rest. I was with Patty and Miles and Patty’s uncle, Carlos, standing in the crowd at the foot of the church, about 50 feet away from its entrance, being shoved and squished by dozens of people when, suddenly, I couldn’t hear out of my left ear. I began to feel extremely hot and my head started to spin, my knees were buckling, and my breathing became shallow. I used all the strength that I could muster and yelled over the loud music to Patty, Miles, and Carlos that I couldn't make it. "You're not going inside?!" Patty yelled back to me, sounding perplexed. "I can't" I replied. I had come all that way, from California to Houston to Costa Rica, and then by foot from San Jose to Cartago, and my body would not allow me to stand up any longer or go any further. I pushed my way back through the crowd in frantic search of somewhere to sit before I collapsed. People would not budge to let me through, no one wanted to give up even an inch of space as they all crowded to get into the church so I had to force my way out. Then, at last, I found an empty seat on the steps next to a bunch of other people and I sat down to rest. But I desperately needed to lie down. So I rested my head in my hand and my stomach started to swirl and tighten up. And thats when I began to vomit water and little pieces of rice. Thankfully, my last meal had been at 2pm and was long ago digested. Save for a few kernels of rice. It was my luck that I happened to be sitting directly beneath Patty's cousin, Jose Mario and his dad, Juan Mario. They flagged down two Red Cross workers who took my blood pleasure, which was 110/70 (normal by then, after I had vomited), and my pulse. I declined their offer to be carried to the infirmary. Then the two Mario’s helped me up from the steps and lead me by the hand through the enormous crowd, down a few blocks and to Patty's fathers’ SUV where I could lay down. But no sooner had I began to doze off did Miles come frantically knocking on the window to see about me. Jose Mario had called Carlos, who was with Miles and Patty at the church, to tell them that I was sick. Carlos told Patty and Patty told Miles, aka "Owen," who loves his mama (see: Throw Mama from the Train, starring Billy Crystal and Danny DeVito). At 16 years old, he'd made the pilgrimage, gone inside the historic old church, saw "La Negrita" face to face, and prayed. I was so proud of him. He'd witnessed a piece of religious history that is more than 400 years old. What an experience!

My not going inside the church was indeed a disappointment, but I had made the long pilgrimage and my heart had good intentions, so I was also proud of myself for having walked for five hours straight, up hills and down hills, alongside thousands of people with the intent to pay my respects and show my faith. I think I succeeded in doing that. And I brought my kid along and he did it, too. It was definitely an experience I will never forget.
(see pictures of us walking at the top of this post)

La Fortuna de San Carlos – the active Arenal Volcano

By day 6, August 3rd, Patty and I were pretty tired and sore from the pilgrimage to Cartago. All I could think about was getting a massage for my aching legs because it hurt to walk. The hotel even offered a “tired leg” massage. Instead, though, we all soaked in the Tabacón thermal hot springs pool at our hotel in La Fortuna. And it was pure bliss! Pura Vida! You could see the steam rising off the warm water as we floated around in the pool sipping on pineapples filled with pina coladas. It rained on us the first night we got in the pool, so we got both a shower and a warm bath. The soft, naturally heated, sulfur-infused water from the volcano is tunneled from a spring near the volcano, into a pool and cooled just enough for people to stand it the heat. It was just what we needed to relax and sooth our tired muscles. In fact, the water worked so well that the following day Patty and I hiked down 180 stairs into a forest near the volcano to reach a waterfall!

The waterfall stood 220 feet tall and came down hard and loud, creating waves that pushed swimmers away. And for good reason because you could get sucked in and drown if you get too close. We got in its pool and rinsed off our sweat from the humid hike. It was slippery, though, with all the moss covered rocks so we had to be extremely careful.

Oh, and according to the local newspaper, Will Smith was in town visiting La Fortuna around the same time we were there. He was looking for a location to film a movie with the director of the Sixth Sense.
(Newspaper photo of Will also up above)

Hasta luego - Going home, after 7.5 days
Periodically, black clouds would gather overhead and threaten rain. A few times they made good on those threats, other times they cried wolf and moved on to someplace else. But mostly we had great weather during our stay. On our final day we met up for the last time on the veranda for breakfast. Stepping off the side of Juan V’s porch I am surrounded by flora and fauna; luscious greenery everywhere you look. And, of course bugs. I left Costa Rica with my share of itchy bites the size of quarters. I also left Costa Rica smarter than I arrived. I practiced and learned a bit of Spanish, though my biggest regret is that I didn’t know more before I arrived so that I could better understand and communicate with my gracious hosts. But I also learned that we, humankind, are much more connected to nature than we think. We’re not only connected, we ARE nature. I knew this, to an extent, of course. But having grown up surrounded by so little of it in a city chock full of brick and mortar, where the nearest glimpse of nature is at a bug-sanitized park, I had forgotten that we aren't necessarily separate from it. We are it. And everything, every single unnatural thing that we do to nature, to our environment, we do to ourselves. So now my resolve to recycle and save water and waste less has increased.
In Costa Rica, I felt more American than I have ever felt while living my American life. I felt ignorant and ashamed of the things I'd never experienced for myself but had only read about or seen on T.V. and thought because I’d seen it on TV or read about it somewhere that I knew enough. Now I truly understand the importance of traveling and expanding your worldview beyond the television set. You see so much more, the view isn’t edited by whoever is feeding it to you through your television set. It’s first-hand. I’m glad that my son got to see that the world is much too immense to think that it resides in our respective "backyards," and to think that we've seen all there is to see by simply watching TV. During our flight, he looked out the window and marveled at the real-life “globe” and geography lesson we got from seeing all the land masses below. We have to remember that what happens on the rest of this gigantic blue marble does, indeed, affect us. And we are polluting the world. I saw the influence American’s have on other cultures for the first time and I shook my head at the stain my culture is leaving on other cultures. Every time Patty ordered cast juice at a restaurant, the server would look at her strangely and one of them even asked her, in so many words, why she didn’t want “e-Sprite.” As though soda is a treat and a novelty. It's good that you can only find cast fruit in Costa Rica. I hope it remains that way - special and unique. In this world, the whole is far more important than the sum of its parts. Unfortunately, I can't change the whole world; I can only work on fixing what’s in my backyard, and what’s in front of me. But every little bit adds up and counts.

"I'm talking abt u enjoying the things God gave you. The things God put on this earth to be enjoyed: silks, satins, good food, beautiful, real scenery with beautiful sunrises and sunsets...and remember, u are for yourself to enjoy, as well as others. Live, child, live. Lift those worries off your mouth and smile."

"Oh, aunt Tante. U make life sound wonderful"

That is what u have to do; make life. And we need to get up and get started on making this day a good one. Now. "

(Excerpt from J California Coopers book 'Life is Short but Wide')

It's been a minute

I've been meaning to post about my vacation for over a week but I've been too lazy, preoccupied with, well...being on vacation. I was focused, man. But now I'm back and today was my first day back at The Slave Camp so expect a real update soon. Costa Rica was great :) I almost got swept out to sea, I rode a surly horse through the mountains and on the beach, I hiked through the jungle to a waterfall and got in fully clothed, i ate great food, saw an active volcano up close and personal, bathed in its natural sulfur-laced hot springs, and walked for five hours at night to a church to see a statue from the 1600s that turned out to be less than 3 inches tall. But more about that later. It's after 10pm and I have work tomorrow so I'm going to bed.

Shoving off

Today I am wrapping up last minute items on my To Do list before I leave for Costa Rica. Yes, the day has finally arrived. I've been talking about and anticipating this trip for almost a year now, lol. My very first time leaving the country and I am pretty excited about it. My primary fear is that I won't be able to carry-on my luggage so then I'll have to check it and TSA will rob me. They've been robbing everybody since 9/11. I know several people who've been ripped off royally. Oh, and I'm also afraid that I won't be able to fully relax. I was way too antsy during my last vacation, worried that time was slipping away from me. Meanwhile, time slipped away from me and I ended up back at work too soon, feeling disappointed that I didn't make the most of my time off. This time, I plan to not worry about a thing. I will be a Tica (name for Costa Rican women) for a week practicing Pura Vida (Pure Life), reading my book by the pool, not giving a damn about my imperfect bikini body, consuming all that my surroundings have to offer. And then there's La Romeria, the walk for La Negrita/The Black Virgin. This pilgrimage is said to take 3.5 hours from San Jose. Can you imagine walking for 3 and a half hours? And then crawling into a church and praying among thousands of people? Dios mio, I'm going to be stiff as a board the following day. But I think the experience will be so worth it. I always feel good after I've been to church, even if I'm a little tired from all the standing and kneeling. This, though, might be the equivalent of 10 Sunday's worth of standing and kneeling without the 6 day break in between.
Anyway, I just logged in to say farewell for now. I still have things to do before I leave :).
Toodles.

I'm so sad

I hate my hair. Last weekend I'd mentioned to my cousin that I needed a low maintenance hairstyle for my trip/vacation and thought that the hairstyle Evelyn from Basketball Wives was wearing last week would be perfect - half corn rows on one side, half down and loose on the other. She looked at me funny, as if she really wasn't trying to help me out. So I went to a girl I used to babysit who now braids hair and I told her my idea. She said she'd do it for $30. Cool. I drove 45 minutes to her apartment all the way in Hawthorne and sat in an uncomfortable chair for about 2 hours while she braided one side of my head. And when she was done and handed me a mirror, my first thought was "it's ugly as hell." But I pretended to like it :( So now I'm sad. She made the braids way too small and straight across, like a boy hairstyle. Save for my loose hair on the other side, it looks butch. But I paid her. I even tipped her an extra $10 because I'm a nice sucker like that (I'd planned to tip her all along. I'd also planned to like my hair, though). And for the last two days I've complained to everyone who'll listen about how much I hate my hair. Until today when one of my girlfriends suggested that I ask her to do it over. She said to tell her that the tiny braids aren't what I had in mind and ask if she could make them smaller. So I did. I sent her a text message. Four hours later she still hasn't responded. I offered to take the tiny braids down myself and asked if she could just make 4 or 5 larger ones instead. And now that I think of it, that extra $10 I gave her should be enough to prod her to say yes to this quick and easier job. But we'll see. Because, after all, she never asked me if I wanted them so tiny. Evelyn's weren't tiny, and this girl claims to watch the show. In the meantime, I have to go to work tomorrow with this hideous, butch, punk rock-ish hairstyle. I really don't feel like entertaining the comments and questions I'll surely get. I'm so sad. Miles said I look ghetto. And if I take it down I will be burning money. This sucks.

And so it begins…

I guess it’s normal to be scared shitless and feeling wholly inadequate, yet bursting with excitement when you’re setting out to be your own boss. This leap has the potential to make me enormously happy or, if I don’t succeed, pretty damn sad. Therefore, the following comments & questions are running through my head:
I’m scared. I can’t do this. Can I do this? Am I creative enough? Is it in me? Am I patient enough? Is this crazy? Am I crazy? Will I survive even a year? Will I survive long enough to make a profit? Am I certain this is what will make me happy? How can I be fearless when this is such an enormous undertaking? It’s Goliath! Can I be David? Is it enough for me to just like pretty things and be able to recognize them? Should I be able to design them as well? Is what I design even pretty? Jesus, take the wheel.
I reassure myself with reminders that everyone likes my designs and some have even gone so far as to copy me and request my decorating help. I’m no stranger to hard work and I’m the most determined person I know. So what, I don’t have much experience running a business, but who does at first? Every successful business owner was once a novice learning to swim. I know what to do; I can doggy paddle. I’ve memorized the mechanics of it. I can make this happen. Worry is taxes paid that may never come due, right? So I’m throwing worry to the wind. I’m passionate about this idea, and really, all I need is passion. Time to put on my big girl panties and be the boss I was born to be.
But first, here are my excuses for why you may not see my name in lights so soon, lol:
I have a full time job and a mortgage. I’m applying for a two year, non-stop, time-consuming program. I need money to make money and, so far, I only have a little bit of money, which means start up costs will have to be tackled slowly. But slow and steady CAN win a race, dammit! Did I mention that I’m the most determined person that I know? I’ll get there, come hook or crook. You watch.
''Every morning when I open my eyes I wonder what I can do to make myself famous. It's become my ambition, almost my raison d'être, to burst upon the city like fireworks.''
- Coco in Shanghai Baby

Out with old, in with the new

All the things I don't need, that no longer (or never) benefit(ted) me, are being tossed out (physically and mentally), sold off, or repurposed in some way. Beginning with a yard sale. Hooray for yard sales! Hooray for a fresh and optimistic lifestyle with a clear mind state! The goal is to focus on what matters most and to build an unencumbered, stress-less life. No worries (easier said, of course), no strife (although some worry and strife are good for you. Makes you stronger), no frustration. I don't want to be a hoarder, especially of bullshit. So today finds me in a purging spirit, ready to donate, toss, sell off and accumulate less. Purging is truly good for the soul. Think of how relaxing a nice hotel room is on vacation with very little "stuff"in it. Then you return home and see all the clutter you've amassed and it becomes your focus (if youre a neat freak or anything like me. Im not a neat freak but I am pretty orderly). Plus, my goal is still to create a more meaningful home. After all, it's where I spend a large chunk of my time and where I go to rest and repair. I want my home to reflect the poetry of my life. Every odd and end should be a meaningful memento of the places I've been, the experiences I've had, and reminders of my loved ones. For instance, I love walking down my hallway and seeing my moms old modeling pictures, my sons baby pictures, and my stint at modeling hanging on the wall. Or my taro leaf bowl from Hawaii, or my grandmother's old sugar dish. The thing about simplicity is that it helps you focus on the things that matter most. And what really, truly matters doesn't really take up space ;) So no more overindulging in worthlessness. I'm on a buying hiatus indefinitely. I really don't need anything. Then maybe after my yard sale I'll take my earnings and go get a massage. Or maybe I'll invest it.

Sunday musings

On our way back from the beach yesterday we stopped to get gas. And while I waited for my tank to fill up I decided to clean my windshield. When I put the squeegee back into the container of water, some guy popped out of nowhere and said "Can you wash my window's now, too?" I gave him a look like "boy, please" and said, with a smile "I can hand you this squeegee and YOU can wash your windows." He laughed and pretended to be hurt. Then his friend in the passenger seat of his Porche convertible said "He just likes cute girls with long hair, that's all." To which I replied "Aww!" and got in my car and closed the door. Is this the way courtship is done now days? I wasn't prepared for that awkwardness but I didn't give it a second thought after I'd closed my door and drove off. Had he caught me a few weeks ago, though, I likely would have suggested that he call me. Lately, my mood has transitioned to "meh" when it comes to men and dating. But just last weekend, as my cousin and I were quickly departing the Erwin Hotel in Venice Beach, I wished she would slow down so that the African guy who was busy texting on his phone would notice me and say something. Hollahollahollaholla was all on my mind. He was tall, dark and handsome and he didn't seem to notice me at all. Oh well, it wasn't meant to be, I suppose.

Last night Mr. EC wanted me to go out with her. She's a DJ groupie and can be a little demanding when we go out, always trying to control the way I look ("wear a dress...make sure you wear eyelashes...don't crimp your hair...that looks hot, wear that again...make sure you crimp your hair") and it can be a tad disconcerting. I don't always feel like getting glammed up and especially not to please a woman or the people who frequent the house music-playing clubs she likes to take me to. Besides, it's a waste of glamour and time because nobody I want to impress is ever at the places she takes me. So last night, after we'd returned to my mothers' house from the beach, I laid in my moms bed and took a cat nap while the baby kept climbing over me and trying to force open my eyelids. I loved feeling her little hands on my face and the weight of her body climbing over me like I was a wall. When I woke up it was almost 9pm and my used-to-be-surly niece called to say that she and her girlfriend were coming over so we could drink mojito's and eat pastrami sandwiches from Johnnie's Pastrami. That sounded like the party I was in the mood for last night. So I texted Mr. EC and told her that it didn't look likely that I would make it home in time to get dressed and go out with her to the "oontz oontz" club and she never responded. She's one of those funny women who expect you to always be available to her, on her time, and all about her. But when you have a life of your own, she is not amused but rather insulted. Ha! She often likes to tell me about the guys she's dating or, when she's not dating anyone she likes to tell me about the women in her life who constantly hate on her. But I am expected to simply listen, never share, because she honestly couldn't give a damn about my life or the people in it. Of course, I've told her about this flaw of hers so now she pretends to be an interested friend. But still, she can cancel whatever plans we make and I'm okay with it. However, when I cancel...I get attitude. I brush her off since I've never taken her seriously, anyway. Hence the nickname "Mr. Ed Choppers."

I'm back to business as usual. My focus has returned to it's regular programming and my "man high" is no more. I've come down to Earth and begun making more appropriate plans. I can now look back on the last few months and smile at the experiences, be grateful for them, and leave them in the past. I almost didn't want to leave my house yesterday because I'd cleaned it up so perfectly the night before that I just wanted to languish in it and smile at my work. I even hemmed those Ikea curtains that I'd put off hemming for over 2 months and trimmed the bushes in front of my porch. So today, Sunday, I will watch my Netflix movie, marvel at my beautiful little home, make more plans for the future, and be grateful for my life and the experiences I've had.

I’ve become disillusioned with the Hollywood Bowl. It used to be one of my favorite places to go but after this past holiday weekend, I think it is only good for specific shows and romantic dates in sections A-J, rows 1-16, only. All those other sections and rows can kiss my ass. They have you packed in like sardines on hard, wooden benches so you’d better pack light and bring a pillow to sit on. And don’t even think about staying until the show ends. Everybody tries to leave all at once and it is hell trying to get out of there. The fireworks display this year left a lot to be desired, too. I’ve seen better at Redondo Beach on the Fourth of July from the millionaire up in Palos Verdes. Word has it that the city made him stop though. He was competing with their display and winning.

So I’m saying so long for now. It’s sort of sad for me because the bowl holds so many dear memories from my past. My uncle Bob used to take me there when I was a little girl. I remember one summer when I was about 5, he and I went to the Bowl and then next door to Griffith Park for a concert where some of the little white hippie kids were running around in their underwear, so uncle Bob asked me if I wanted to take off my shirt and cool down like them. I couldn’t believe he would ask me such a thing. There was no way in hell I was going to run around topless with my no-boobies exposed to the world, lol. My chest was as flat as a board but I was taught to keep my “goods” covered. Good girls don’t run around topless. Plus, there were surely perverts afoot. Anyway, we hung out with a lot of the bands performing that day because, as a kick ass drummer, my uncle Bob was friends with most of them. So I befriended a little girl named Jessica who was traipsing around the park in nothing but her panties. And that’s where I formed my first real impression of white people. These folks didn’t seem to give a damn about nudity or modesty and were living free and reckless. But me, on the other hand, I was disturbed by that Coppertone ad back in those day where the dog was pulling down the little girls’ bikini bottoms revealing her un-tanned butt to everyone. Yes, I was a real conservative prude up until about age 16 when I discovered the joys of sex. I’m still vanilla except now with rainbow sprinkles. This world has corrupted me.

I really want to see a meteor shower. It's been on my bucket list for a while now and my friends father owns a ranch at Lake Elizabeth, which just might be a great spot to see this one:

July 28, 29 - Southern Delta Aquarids Meteor Shower. The Delta Aquarids can produce about 20 meteors per hour at their peak. The shower usually peaks on July 28 & 29, but some meteors can also be seen from July 18 - August 18. The radiant point for this shower will be in the constellation Aquarius. This year the thin, crescent moon will be hanging around for the show, but it shouldn’t cause too many problems. Best viewing is usually to the east after midnight from a dark location.

And the showers radiant point will be in the constellation Aquarius, which is my birth sign. Kind of cool :)
Otherwise, maybe we can catch this one:

August 12, 13 - Perseids Meteor Shower. The Perseids is one of the best meteor showers to observe, producing up to 60 meteors per hour at their peak. The shower's peak usually occurs on August 13 & 14, but you may be able to see some meteors any time from July 23 - August 22. The radiant point for this shower will be in the constellation Perseus. The full moon will definitely be a problem this year, hiding the fainter meteors with its glare. But with up to 60 meteors per hour possible, it could still be a great show. Find a location far from city lights and look to the northeast after midnight.

I know why the little bird sings

Damn, I never thought I’d get to this point. Okay, I’m lying, I KNEW I’d get to this point. I was just hoping to avoid it at all costs. Yet here I am, with all this looove to give and nobody to give it to. What am I going to do with all this!? Combust? I need to hug on someone, STAT! Nuzzle my nose in the nape of their neck, kick one leg over their torso, and drape one arm over their chest and let a movie watch us. Or else, yes, I will spontaneously combust. Oh woe is fucking me!

Today I thought I was doing something when I purchased a six pack of Mike’s Hard Classic Margarita’s in peach flavor. Turns out I haven’t done shit but get laughed at. “That’s a wine cooler! You won’t even get a buzz from one of those,” I was told.

Oh, well. But fuck it, I tried. You’re probably wondering why I have such a potty mouth today (oh, and believe me, I’m being GOOD! This is nothing like what’s going on in my head right now. I’m censoring the SHIT out of myself). Well, it’s because I’m frustrated with all this pent up desire in me. This is some bullshit and I seriously need to release it…on somebody. But, there’s no one around that will make the effort satisfactory. And that’s a damn shame.

I went to the reggae club with my cousin last night and they hardly played any reggae. But these two young men with a thousand times my energy level were dancing like maniacs. It was pretty entertaining. They had total control of their bodies and were busting moves I could only dream of. My cousin thought they were on drugs. She thinks everyone is on drugs. It was truly fascinating. Other than that, the club was a huge disappointment. We left at about a quarter to one. Tonight I’ll be at the oontz oontz club with my Mexican friend and a couple of others. I’m only going because I’m hoping to get lucky. Not like that! By lucky I mean that I’m hoping to meet someone with good conversation, a great personality, and a winning appearance that digs me and wants to try to talk me out of my clothes sometime in the near future. That’s all.

I’m pretty sure I was dissed by Artist Boy so I’m sort of licking my ego’s wounds right now. And since I am a glutton for punishment, here’s how my dissing went down:

Me: Hi

Him: Hey How Are you

Me: I'm good, thank you I was wondering if you'd like to go with me to see the graffiti exhibit at MOCA...if you haven't seen it already?

Him: *silence for two days

Me: I'm guessing your silence means you've either seen the exhibit already or you're just not interested. It's okay either way. But could you let me know which? I hate to assume. thx

Him: Hey No been hella busy ... I just dont have alot of free time right now I have a Project in the works .

Me: No worries. May I ask what kind of project youre working on?

Him: Im working on the gallery space Ill be showcasing and working from.

Me: (19 hours later) Best of luck.

I didn’t reply with “best of luck” until after I saw him tagged in a post saying “Excited to have the talented *Somebody’s name here* and *Artist guy’s name here* on board with the gallery/studio. Climbing that Mountain.”

Yes, I was salty.

Then, after he was tagged in that post, he posted “Focused” and an hour after that he posted “Grinding.” So I’m guessing he wanted to make sure I got the picture. Which is, he’s not interested in me but he thinks he’s too nice to just come out and say it. I don’t think he’s nice at all, really. Nice would have been shooting me down the way Jeff Bridges did “Little Blackie” the horse when “Blackie” fell from exhaustion (I winced so hard on that part. Poor horsie. After all he’d gone through). I’m of the opinion that NOBODY is that busy. We make time for the things we want to do. And he clearly does not want to do me. He didn’t even offer me a raincheck. And honestly, I only wanted to hug and kiss on him and claim him for a little while. He’s not particularly sexy but he is easy on the eyes. My brother thinks he’s gay. I love my brother. So, c’est la vie, Artist Guy. Thanks to you, I’m not trying anymore. I am officially jaded. Fuck all this shit. I can feel my heart going cold as I sip on my room-temperature peach margarita wine cooler.

There's a fucking swallow who has decided to make the tree directly outside my bedroom window his base. Every evening and sometimes during the wee hours of the morning, he starts chirping and yodeling his little ass off. It's like one of those multi-tune car alarms. I hate that damn bird. I have wanted to shoot him for weeks now. A friend recently told me that's his booty call. He's chirping up a storm because he's looking for love, the poor sap. I need to buy a bb gun and put him out of his misery.