Friday, October 30, 2009
6 weeks and lots of emails signed xoxo...
...means: I don't like you and I never did. When you really need someone to get that through their head, nothing says you're worthless better than "un-friending" the offender on facebook. I should know, it just happened to me. Very mature. And to quote the drunk at the bar last night, "If some guy isn't into you, there must be something wrong with his weiner." Hmmm.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Holy Mother!
The usual no talk rule ("for-crazy-people-only") on the bus was shattered this weekend by none other than my mom (shocking, I know). What started off as an average busride on a Saturday afternoon soon became something I want to remember forever. I spent most the ride doubled over in stitches listening to my mom and some irish guy singing Death Cab for Cutie at the top of their lungs whilst the homeless and bedraggled conversed about whether or not Bob Dylan should ever be allowed outside by himself. Amazing that one woman could bring so many to unity during the span of one short bus ride from Haight Ashbury to Civic Center. Gavin Newsome would be proud!
Other highlights of the weekend included:
*American Idiot at Berkeley Rep theater... best musical I've seen to date (and just when I thought RENT had my heart!)
*Meeting Tony Vincent from the show, only to realize he was the same guy I had been staring at on Bart the previous evening, only to further realize he was the same guy who played Judas when I saw Jesus Christ Superstar in New York in 2000.
*NOT Fellini's in Berkeley, sorry guys.
*Club Deluxe on a Thursday, reconciling for the 2nd time with my old teach, and smoking a j with the boys (and momma)
*having breakfast with my mom in my kitchen... I'm an excellent cook btw
*Magnolia on Haight Street and the famous Jono (thank you for the beer)
*the bus ride
*NOT Ananda Fuara OR A Serious Man (although I kind of liked the movie)
*Meeting Terry and Mariah Carey's husband at random bar in Japantown... really? Yes, really. I have been officially invited into the Westside Cuts family, the barbershop down the street from where I live.
*Millenium! Never imagined I would be a VIP at any restaurant.
*Grove Street farmer's market and watching my mom fight the urge to buy a croissant, only to cave for the croissant mini.
*Discovering a new way to get to Bart from my house.
*The bittersweet ride back home after saying goodbye to my mom!
Other highlights of the weekend included:
*American Idiot at Berkeley Rep theater... best musical I've seen to date (and just when I thought RENT had my heart!)
*Meeting Tony Vincent from the show, only to realize he was the same guy I had been staring at on Bart the previous evening, only to further realize he was the same guy who played Judas when I saw Jesus Christ Superstar in New York in 2000.
*NOT Fellini's in Berkeley, sorry guys.
*Club Deluxe on a Thursday, reconciling for the 2nd time with my old teach, and smoking a j with the boys (and momma)
*having breakfast with my mom in my kitchen... I'm an excellent cook btw
*Magnolia on Haight Street and the famous Jono (thank you for the beer)
*the bus ride
*NOT Ananda Fuara OR A Serious Man (although I kind of liked the movie)
*Meeting Terry and Mariah Carey's husband at random bar in Japantown... really? Yes, really. I have been officially invited into the Westside Cuts family, the barbershop down the street from where I live.
*Millenium! Never imagined I would be a VIP at any restaurant.
*Grove Street farmer's market and watching my mom fight the urge to buy a croissant, only to cave for the croissant mini.
*Discovering a new way to get to Bart from my house.
*The bittersweet ride back home after saying goodbye to my mom!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Formal Acceptance of My Mistakes and Promise of Repentance
Warning to the reader: The following post may contain material that is depressing, true, and normal.
I've made a lot of people sad and angry this past year, not least of all myself. I am awake at an insanely late or incredibly early hour (depending on what 4am means to you). Something is keeping me from sleep this evening, and I think the only way to feel better is to tell you the story.
For years I've been suffering the consequences of what I hope is not a mental illness, although that has yet to be diagnosed. In the past this did not affect my sleep. Most recently I have noticed that I wake up in the middle of the night filled with a deep anxiety to which there is no answer, save writing, reading, or music. Unfortunately, these are the same activities which occupy my daytime hours, so my life has begun to feel like one continuous cycle of escapism.
Most of my sleepless nights have a cause, be it too much drinking, too much food, or too much fun. Tonight it is caused by none of those, in fact I would say it could be the lack thereof that finds me so wide-eyed.
I was doing what I normally do on a thursday night, riding BART home from band practice, when the shit really hit the fan. I've been dating someone I really like, and lo and behold, I have managed to make this person feel so unimportant to me that he called the whole thing off. Apparently I've been absolutely tuned out and I took for granted one of the more interesting things happening in my life. I did this by making light of the other person entirely, and I did it unconsciously to boot.
I realized something tonight. I've been making a lot of jokes about things that aren't funny. I can always get a laugh, but I wonder at what price? It seems I've gone over the line this time, and when I look back over the last few years I wonder: why the insatiable need for the banal? I ended two great relationships to "find myself", only to realize that the person I was looking for is a complete idiot/douchebag/monster/bitch (your pick). In order to mask my fear and loathing of this self-discovery, I have hidden all my real feelings behind a wall of humor and cold, hard calculation. I have become so matter of fact about feelings that sometimes I no longer have any. This safety net only works until I'm alone, however, and then I'm lying awake all night wondering how I can escape myself.
No one said the road to self-discovery was paved with gold, but I was at least hoping to like some of what I found along the way. There's been an awfully weird pattern lately of me thinking I have everything under control, only to find that my reprehensible behavior has driven away another person I was hoping to keep near me.
I have always been an optimist and now is no different. Even when I feel my worst I can see that things will change, something good will happen tomorrow, life ebbs and flows, and for fucks sake, there's always coffee! I think the universe is trying to advise me at this point to practice kindness everyday. No more disrespect to people around me. Move forward with love for all things equally, including myself. They always say "kill them with kindness" but what about "save them with kindness?" If there is a way to be kind in this world, I am going to figure it out.
"If you don't have a point to make/Don't sweat it/You'll make a sharp one being so kind/(And I'd sure appreciate it)" -Fiona Apple
I've made a lot of people sad and angry this past year, not least of all myself. I am awake at an insanely late or incredibly early hour (depending on what 4am means to you). Something is keeping me from sleep this evening, and I think the only way to feel better is to tell you the story.
For years I've been suffering the consequences of what I hope is not a mental illness, although that has yet to be diagnosed. In the past this did not affect my sleep. Most recently I have noticed that I wake up in the middle of the night filled with a deep anxiety to which there is no answer, save writing, reading, or music. Unfortunately, these are the same activities which occupy my daytime hours, so my life has begun to feel like one continuous cycle of escapism.
Most of my sleepless nights have a cause, be it too much drinking, too much food, or too much fun. Tonight it is caused by none of those, in fact I would say it could be the lack thereof that finds me so wide-eyed.
I was doing what I normally do on a thursday night, riding BART home from band practice, when the shit really hit the fan. I've been dating someone I really like, and lo and behold, I have managed to make this person feel so unimportant to me that he called the whole thing off. Apparently I've been absolutely tuned out and I took for granted one of the more interesting things happening in my life. I did this by making light of the other person entirely, and I did it unconsciously to boot.
I realized something tonight. I've been making a lot of jokes about things that aren't funny. I can always get a laugh, but I wonder at what price? It seems I've gone over the line this time, and when I look back over the last few years I wonder: why the insatiable need for the banal? I ended two great relationships to "find myself", only to realize that the person I was looking for is a complete idiot/douchebag/monster/bitch (your pick). In order to mask my fear and loathing of this self-discovery, I have hidden all my real feelings behind a wall of humor and cold, hard calculation. I have become so matter of fact about feelings that sometimes I no longer have any. This safety net only works until I'm alone, however, and then I'm lying awake all night wondering how I can escape myself.
No one said the road to self-discovery was paved with gold, but I was at least hoping to like some of what I found along the way. There's been an awfully weird pattern lately of me thinking I have everything under control, only to find that my reprehensible behavior has driven away another person I was hoping to keep near me.
I have always been an optimist and now is no different. Even when I feel my worst I can see that things will change, something good will happen tomorrow, life ebbs and flows, and for fucks sake, there's always coffee! I think the universe is trying to advise me at this point to practice kindness everyday. No more disrespect to people around me. Move forward with love for all things equally, including myself. They always say "kill them with kindness" but what about "save them with kindness?" If there is a way to be kind in this world, I am going to figure it out.
"If you don't have a point to make/Don't sweat it/You'll make a sharp one being so kind/(And I'd sure appreciate it)" -Fiona Apple
Monday, October 19, 2009
"Come on, Mothafuckas"
I quoted this statement because it might as well be a trademarked phrase of The Flaming Lips frontman, Wayne Coyne. Last night I saw TFL play at the Treasure Island Music Festival, and the first time he said it I laughed and asked my friend, "did he just call us motherfuckers?" Then I realized that as the show progressed, he was going to say "come on mothafuckas" everytime he wanted us to sing, cheer, etc. Normally, this would not fly with me and I would find the insistence annoying. However, if you have not seen TFL play a show before, you have yet to understand how addicting it was. He's like a modern day pied piper.
Let me preface by saying that my day consisted of a shuttle ride to the island around 2, followed by ritualistic consumption of alcohol and marijuana with 3 of my best friends, watching Edward Sharpe, Beirut, and the Decemberists rock the house, then sprinkling happy powder into our drinks, then finding ourselves front and center for The Flaming Lips set around 9 pm. Just when I thought my day could not get any better, balloons and confetti were launched over the audience while the music went to ear-splitting decibels and the lights were turned up so bright I had to put my sunglasses on (not making that up either). Then Wayne got in a giant plastic ball and walked over the audience while the rest of the band kept right on singing and dancing. Eventually me and my crew of 3 made our way to the ferris wheel, and were floating above the festival for one of my all time favorite songs, She Don't Use Jelly. I felt like Alice in Wonderland after she drank the potion that made her small enough to fit through the keyhole. Just a tiny person amid a fascinating world of lights, colors, sounds, and sensations.
If you can, go to the Treasure Island Music Festival next year and hang out with me. I'll be there with all kinds of potions and treats that make life more magical. Also, go see the Flaming Lips even if you don't like the music that much. Voluntarily being held captive by a man named Wayne is well worth it.
Come on, mothafuckas!
Let me preface by saying that my day consisted of a shuttle ride to the island around 2, followed by ritualistic consumption of alcohol and marijuana with 3 of my best friends, watching Edward Sharpe, Beirut, and the Decemberists rock the house, then sprinkling happy powder into our drinks, then finding ourselves front and center for The Flaming Lips set around 9 pm. Just when I thought my day could not get any better, balloons and confetti were launched over the audience while the music went to ear-splitting decibels and the lights were turned up so bright I had to put my sunglasses on (not making that up either). Then Wayne got in a giant plastic ball and walked over the audience while the rest of the band kept right on singing and dancing. Eventually me and my crew of 3 made our way to the ferris wheel, and were floating above the festival for one of my all time favorite songs, She Don't Use Jelly. I felt like Alice in Wonderland after she drank the potion that made her small enough to fit through the keyhole. Just a tiny person amid a fascinating world of lights, colors, sounds, and sensations.
If you can, go to the Treasure Island Music Festival next year and hang out with me. I'll be there with all kinds of potions and treats that make life more magical. Also, go see the Flaming Lips even if you don't like the music that much. Voluntarily being held captive by a man named Wayne is well worth it.
Come on, mothafuckas!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Rulebook
Rule #35: Always try to leave the party/bar/club/mom's house with a minimum of (3)three guys from India. If (4)four appear available you have won the karma lottery, provided you can all still fit in one car.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Weekend Outings
I missed the Art Explosion Open Studios last night. Luckily it is open all weekend! I highly recommend anyone and everyone make an appearance there. Look for work by Stefan Aronsen, and Kerry Wingeier at the 19th and Alabama location. If you go there on Sunday afternoon, you'll probably see me too! It's a great place to find art that is good and affordable, and there's A LOT of it. I usually get all my christmas shopping done here. Praise jesus!
http://www.artexplosionstudios.com/
Sunday, October 4, 2009
It was only a half
This distinction is important: a "half marathon" is NOT the same thing as a "marathon". One is 13.1 miles and the other is 26.2. So if I say I'm running a "marathon", feel free to correct me by saying, "no, that's a half you're running." Because someday I will run a full marathon, and at that point I'll be able to go, "Actually, it's a full marathon this time."
Today, I completed the San Jose Rock n Roll half marathon in 2 hours and 29 seconds. I improved 5 and 1/2 minutes over my first half marathon which I ran in July. Training pays off! Too bad I can't seem to shave that 5 and 1/2 minutes off my commute to work. J Lee would appreciate it if I showed up on time for once, I'm sure.
I'm also considering enrolling at City College to study music with professionals, aka I'll learn music without the bug-infested house of that one lady I tried, the sex-den of that vocal coach, or the "conflicted" personality of my last serious teacher. Throw me a friggin' bone here people! How many times does a girl have to be swindled out of $50.00 before the message gets through? If you want quality, don't shop for a teacher on Craigslist. Also beware extremely attractive teachers... they tend to bite.
In closing, there's a reason why people go to school to study something. That's where teachers work. Even if sometimes I miss Charlie, it's high time I went to a learning establishment to learn something, rather than my friend's house.
Today, I completed the San Jose Rock n Roll half marathon in 2 hours and 29 seconds. I improved 5 and 1/2 minutes over my first half marathon which I ran in July. Training pays off! Too bad I can't seem to shave that 5 and 1/2 minutes off my commute to work. J Lee would appreciate it if I showed up on time for once, I'm sure.
I'm also considering enrolling at City College to study music with professionals, aka I'll learn music without the bug-infested house of that one lady I tried, the sex-den of that vocal coach, or the "conflicted" personality of my last serious teacher. Throw me a friggin' bone here people! How many times does a girl have to be swindled out of $50.00 before the message gets through? If you want quality, don't shop for a teacher on Craigslist. Also beware extremely attractive teachers... they tend to bite.
In closing, there's a reason why people go to school to study something. That's where teachers work. Even if sometimes I miss Charlie, it's high time I went to a learning establishment to learn something, rather than my friend's house.
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