revolutions...

so, i'm crushing on someone pretty good right now. but, don't tell him just yet, ok? i don't think he knows how to get to this blog... and he definitely doesn't know that i'm even writing about him. probably... i need to give it a bit more time. ugh. i'm so bad at the whole patience/dating thing. gross.

but anyways. last week swoony mcgee and i were having dinner. he kept asking me whether i had heard of this awesome local sf band, or that amazing bar/venue? had i ever eaten at the insanely delish restaurant on the corner of trendy and hipster? no. nope. none of 'em. blast, his life is so much better than mine. and apparently, i do nothing. ok, this doesn't entirely come as a surpirise... i do wake up at an ungodly hour... every week day. (that's gotta end, non?)

so... it's time. to make some resolutions. or revolutions if you live in layla-land. do not fear, they're not lose ten pounds kind of revolutions. awesome-shit-i'm-gonna-do-forever-and-ever-amen kind of revolutions. readddddyyyyyyy, ok!

oh. my. god. do stuff already. so there's a whole list of sub-revolutions that go in this pile... see music. see films. see friends. make friends. go on dates. go on bike rides. eat good food. drink good booze. (is that legit? for those last to to be on the do list...? most are trying to stop eating and stop drinking... whoops. i was never any good at following the rules anyway...). allow love in.

stop waking up at 4:30 in the morning to go to work. even 5:30 would feel fairly civilized. and 6:30? swoon.

stop worrying about the world ending. it's not going to end right? tell me it won't.

stop worrying about getting everything done before the world ends. shit.

stop worrying. or at least follow the rule that my therapist when i was seven years-old gave me... layla, you can only worry for thirty minutes per day... then you have to let it go. and stop worrying. go run around the blok. i'll be doing an awful lot of block running in 2012.


keep writing. even this blog. follow through, kiddos... i'm not always the best with it, so this is the year i'm gonna make things happen.

learn to do the worm. ya, the break-dancer-esque move. i thought it would happen in 2011... girl's gotta be realistic, improvisational... flexible. this is the year though, i can feel it.

save money. ugh.

color your hair more often, layla... no one wants to see your roots. nuff said.

that feels like enough, right? ya. that'll do. i'll keep adding. i've got lists all over the place. i've even been making a list about swoony mcgee. someone get this girl off the internet... doesn't she know she's not supposed to say stuff like that. (a girlfriend told me i'm supposed to make him pursue me... to not always be available... play it coy... huh? play?) i need a manual for this dating shit. you got one?

but even better, got any revolutions? or resolutions, as all normal humans put it? do tell!

alrighty everyone... the images are from my pinterest, here, and my pinterest... yes, i know that's sort of cheating. but if you click through on pinterest you'll get to the point of origin (well, a point of origin). it's early, and i'm already running a teensy bit late. whoops. let's all send each other amazing energy, ok? get ourselves into 2012 feeling ready. and if not ready, on our way there. you're my favorite.

when i grow up...

mrs. zern, my fifth grade teacher in room 5, was absolutely the best. she was from vermont, so i instantly loved her... and she, me. (in the summer of 1993, after my first summer at brown ledge, my mom and i stopped in woodstock, vermont on our way from burlington to brattleboro. and there, on main street, in a book store, was mrs. zern!!! can you even believe it?!)

anywhoodle, in my fifth grade yearbook (ya, right...? we had one) every classroom at lowell school had a page with interesting facts about its students. one of the brilliant room moms decided that our yearbook needed a section devoted to what i'm going to be when i grow up. gross. don't be discouraged. oh, i realize, it's hard to take courage. as you may have noticed, i still haven't got a clue what could/should be doing with my life... and i've got a flippin' master's degree. oy.

and in the fifth grade, we were not given a suitable amount of time to answer such a profound question. i mean, shit... it was the rest of my life i was preparing to answer for. in a world full of people, you can lose sight of it all. in fact, i think the habig girl's mother came by after lunch (my least efficient and by far, sweatiest, hour of the day) and passed out papers with questions... pink for girls, blue for boys. what?!?!?!? she was from louisiana... whatevs.

i agonized for those entire fifteen minutes we were allotted for said handout while my classmates casually responded... fireman, lawyer, doctor, social worker (uhhhhh? but she and her family had just come back from living in new zealand for a year, or something... so that's appropriate, right?)

i finally settled on... panda trainer. ex-squeeze me?

i know.

but, here's the thing... i think it was my attempt at being different. and i wanted so desperately to be different. while simultaneously liked by everyone, of course. and, in the fifth grade, that was not even remotely possible. you could be one or the other... and i couldn't figure it out. i still wore unitards to school, but always with a matching home-made bow (resembling those of the habig girl).

i see your true colors

shining through.

i see your true colors

and that's why i love you.

in fifth grade i didn't know how to write an answer like: happy-functioning, well-educated adult with no substance abuse issues who has a healthy relationship with movement/writing/travel/men/etc. that seems reasonable-ish... right? well, my almost-thirty-year-old self is still grappling with these things... so, maybe i'll go to panda training school at night, just in case. show me a smile then, don't be unhappy.

on a semi-related note, if you don't already know about her. get on it. i don't know her in real life... i just stalk her via her blog. she is such a brilliant writer and i love how she voraciously encourages her girlies three to be just as different as they can possibly be. i'll see your true colors shining through. she is one of the reasons i became so committed to the bloggy universe and i am just so thankful that she is such a brilliant mama... to encourage those girls to dare themselves! (doesn't hurt that they're a family of gypsies and live abroad as often as possible...) dreamy!

if this world makes you crazy

and you've taken all you can bear,

you call me up

because you know i'll be there.

what are you going to be when you grow up??? i'd love to hear from you!


images from here, here, and here. and friends... i hope you know these words already. cyndi lauper. true colors. another red-headed soul mate of mine. seriously. i get emotional when i think about cyndi lauper. did you know... in 1987 i saw cyndi lauper in concert!?!?!? yes, friends. my first concert ever was the she's so unusual tour. telling, non? obvi... big red and tony knew exactly what they had on their hands from day une. love you.

so cal, brah...

you know i'm an l.a. lover... right? the city of angels? how can you not? i will do my best to not get all historical on yo' asses and just tell you to trust me. angel city is one of the truly greatest places on earth... and not too far from my little home town, long beach.

sometimes i feel like i don't have a partner

sometimes i feel like my only friend

is the city i live in,

the city of angels.

i hope to tell you way more about it in the next few weeks or months or whatever... till then, some piccys!

i drive on her streets

'cause she's my companion.

i walk through her hills

'cause she knows who i am.

9¢ coffee from phillippe's... it's a staple for us.

xmas... big red got real tie tie, i got tipsy and photo'd myself. whoops.

take me to the place i love

take me all the way.

long beach... not as 'hood as you though, huh?

(s)he could be xavier's (skinnier) cousin...!

big red and i watched born yesterday... correction, big red bought born yesterday on dvd for me, for christmas. seriously, if you have not seen this film... you. must. right. now. close your computer, and go get it. judy holliday?!?! are you kidding me? she's a contender for the most brilliant comedienne i've ever seen in my world. (and you know lucille ball and i are soul mates right? red hair). holliday won an oscar for this film! ya' heard me. 

at least i have her love, the city she loves me.

all these piccys are mine, y'all! but these lyrics? duh. red hot chili peppers. i been swooning over under the bridge since i first heard it at heart's bend in newfane, vermont. summer of 1992. oh jonah keith... my camp boyfriend... we swooned over this together, a lot... ahhhh,

caution...

hey gang!

things are about to get crazy up in here. you see, i've decided it's time for change. and if you know me in real life, you know that this happens... frequently. but, if you don't... i'll elaborate.

i usually rearrange my apartment every season. i've had every hair do (and don't) under the sun. almost every color too. i haven't lived in the same city for more than two years within the last eight-ish years. 

so, my friends... i'll say it again. the times they are a changin'. it'll be a new year soon! so, over the next week, or so... i'll be fiddling with things. design and what not... the content will remain [mostly] the same. i am trying to get a bit more focused, though. go with me, yes?

as always, your feedback is trés (that's french for very... classin' this joint up a bit) appreciated! shoot me a note in the comments or via email! i'd love to know what you think, or just say hi!

xoxoxoxoxoxo,

[formerly] the thinking body.

happy merry...

i love you. and i'm so glad you are in my life. maybe my swirly brain will calm down now... but here's a little look at christmas in the lbc...

home...

only two places in the world actually feel like home to me. one is where i am right now... sitting in my parents' house in long beach. sunshine in the windows, creaky hardwood floors, palm tree in the front yard, fresh flowers on any horizontal surface with free space. the other is 71 brown ledge road, colchester, vermont. 05446. (more specifically, in the pointhouse). but, i realize, i haven't told you much about my summer home... sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now. cartwheels turn to car wheels through the town. it's not a summer home like most people have. it was my summer camp for 13 summers. my other home. but, i'll have to owe you many more posts to come about that place.

today. it's all about the lbc. with big red and tony. so much lovin' in the lbc, ya dig?

i'm home for a few days. it always surprises me though, how at home i feel, because i haven't lived in this house for about ten years. this little spanish style duplex with the royal blue trim. my room is no longer my room. but, you know what? it still sort of is. and the seasons they go round and round. there's a tiny corner piece from the jonathan taylor thomas poster that i hung over my bed on the ceiling. right up there with hundreds of those tiny glow in the dark star stickers. i know how most of the stains on the carpet got there. i can see, so clearly, where the big taxidermied moose head hung for most of childhood. and the painted ponies go up and down. remnants of my artwork are still on the walls. but mostly, it's my mom's room now. her other room, that is. where she set up her office, her vanity, a television (so she can watch ncis while my dad watches golf in their actual room). i don't mind sharing though.

today something new and different happened in my room. my dad came in to talk to me. but, not in our usual way...

words like when you're older must appease him. and promises of someday make his dreams.

bean, i was a little depressed the other day. you know, because things are going to be changing soon. (he pulled out a scrap of paper where he had written down some notes... about why he was feeling depressed. do you love it?). i know i can take care of myself, and i know i can take care of your mother. but, i don't think i can take care of you. and not in a financial way. but, i'm not really the broad shoulders anymore. i can't give you everything you need... we can't return, we can only look. behind from where we came.


what? oh my dad. there's more...

your mom said not to worry. that i had always given you all of the tools. the tools to be able to do anything you want. 


i hope i did. 

if you know my dad, you know that this is a pretty big-ass deal. though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true. but there'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty. we've worked on our relationship for a long time... and we're definitely still navigating it. but, shit. this just about shattered my heart into a million trillion pieces... in the best way, you know?

before the last revolving year is through.

i love you.

lyrics from joni mitchell's, the circle game. the mush pot of images... from my iphone, here, and our family collection... that last one is me and tony, circa 1985.

things to never say to me. 2.

you: does this look right?

me: how does it feel?

you: i don't know. can you watch me and tell me if it's good?

me: how does it feel when you are doing it?

you: i don't know.

me: do you feel anything anywhere in your body? (are you beginning to sense the theme here?)


you: i don't know.

oy.

image found here

pop...

i've been loving this video for a long-ass time. b.r.i.l.l.i.a.n.t.

the kelly clarkson driving dance from adrienne truscott's dance/theatre piece genesis, no! performed by carmine covelli and neal medlyn. ps 122, new york, ny. 2007.

everyone should know about this.

here goes her website if you wanna browse around a bit more...

you have some 'splaining to do...

i'm not afraid to admit when i'm wrong. you are all over my rainbow, taking the scene, in my crazy dream.

remember this post? well... i've gotten some interesting responses. mostly from girlfriends who think i'm a complete whack job for not giving the online dating thing a try. lay, are you crazy? why would you not take the opportunity to pre-screen people... after your dating history this past year?! and if you've ever attempted to date in san francisco... well shit. nothing's fast or slow, it's in-between. it's close to impossible. but those are the details that you can read in a love in the time of san francisco-type blog.

soooooo... here's what i did. i took almost all of the information from the afore mentioned post and put it up on an online dating site. just to see what would happen. (btdubs... a different site than the one i tried from the dark period). and i'll be damned... i actually got responses. so after weeding through the ones of dudes with no pictures and the ones with very bold sexual questions... i'd say i got three or four promising notes. from real humans. god, if i'd known it would be that simple... all melodies are coming ashore. flushing over me.

i'm going to save all my juicy details for a while, but maybe we'll have more to talk about... hmmm? (but, i will tell you that i'm already swooning a bit).

maybe next time around i won't be so judgy...

don't get out, the morning wants to keep us safe in here. resting on your shoulder, we won't go until there's no more people out there.


words are oh land. rainbow from the album oh land. i love these ladies... they remind me how beautiful we all are! images from here. happy monday, yes?

paper turtle v. 2.0

maybe you remember, but a little while ago i was getting real excited about some art. well, this arrived just after thanksgiving...

seriously? how beautiful is she?!

i hope that you'll all check out paper turtle. laura is this incredible woman who's got her head and her art in the right place. i'm going to hold back on telling you all the fab details about her new mexico-haiti art exchange...  because, you read laura's blog here. seriously, she and her partner, in haiti, aly have an amazing story and equally incredible photos! 

you can find the paper turtle store on etsy... they've got other amazing taxidermied-esque papier-mache bits of all sizes. (she even threw in a super sweet heart shaped ornament for me). 

buy stuff then send me pics, ok?

hope your weekends are divine!

on ownership...

this is part one of a (three...?) part series.

so, i'll thank you all in advance for allowing me to continue to navigate this process... you see, since this, i've been receiving so much. love. support. kind words. obtrusive words. smiles. just plain generous outpours of kindness. thank you.

but, i'm finding it interesting that when i am not in a relationship, the conversations i witness are vastly different than when i am in a relationship. my [mostly single] girlfriends speak without filters. about their fears, their hopes and their dreams for relationships. and 99% of the time i am so happy to listen and contribute to the discussion.

freedom.

but there are times when i have to fight the urge to vomit. as much as i loved the sex and the city series... i can't help but wonder (see what i did there)... have we given these [failed] relationships and men too much ownership? talking incessantly about them. questioning our actions. asking/begging for advice. for translation of gestures. signs. plotting outfits and behavior to make ourselves more attractive. don't be afraid of your freedom. because, for some, it's all consuming. and that worries me. (and you know how i worry... too much).

you see, i am currently working in an industry in which gender normatives are still so stereotypical and running rampant. i can hardly look some of my co-workers in the eye because i fear i will start shouting shit about equality and why their misogynistic views are archaic, insulting and embarrassing. but, i need to keep my job. so i move along. some days it pains me more than others. 'cause i'm free to do what i want, any old time. i should probably tell you more about this at a later date, though. get my sarah lawrence on.

i'll be clear, i went/am still going through many stages of grief. shock. pain. circling back to shock, passing through anger. sadness. numbness. hitting up anger again, and again. depression. but moving on to finding solace. healing. it's such a process. (and my sex and the city phase was 100% a part of it). and now i'm here... taking back ownership. because as she so wisely put it... it's your heart. not his. so, i'm moving past carrie and charlotte's advice and making my own. i'm free to be who i choose. own. ownership.


i wrote a long list of things that i would do in order to take back ownership, but deleted it, because well... that list can be for me. ok?

the important part is that i will forgive myself. i will take responsibility for my contributions to our tumultuous relationship and inevitable demise. i will accept that i made excuses for both of us. but i will not excuse his behavior. i don't own that.

free like a butterfly. free like a bee.

ownership is scary and it's a huge responsibility. because it means that i'm on the hook for my actions. but, dear goddess, it means that i can be creative with it all. i will choose. i will change. i will make mistakes. i will fail. and i will triumph. but, all mine. all me. and when it's time... share it with the ones i treasure. these are the words i hear.

(know this... the other parts of this series are not about me, per se. obvi, they're my opinions and what-not... but, i'll finally tell you why i'm so mad at beyonce. and then we'll talk abramovic. the law. trust. it'll be something different).

remember these words? i'm free, by the soup dragons. summer of '91 at hearts bend in vermont... i listened to that cassette tape a lot. this is martin creed's work from the national gallery of scotland. brill. tenderness from here.

ok... cupid.

did i ever tell you that i tried online dating once? it was a dark period for me. and it did not last long. at. all. we can fight our desires, but when we start making fires. we get ever so hot, whether we like it or not. (let's be clear. if you are having incredible success with and love online dating, i've got no judgements. for real. it's just not for me).

every now and then, big red and i will be on the phone and she'll tell me the story of seeing so-and-so's mom in the trader joe's parking lot. she'll tell me about how they all measure the success of their daughters by their relationship statuses. well she and [man of the hour] have been together for six months now, it's getting very serious. or, she's almost moved in with him. or, my favorite, oh, we're expecting a ring any day now. i would like to take this opportunity to explicitly thank my madre for not measuring my success by my relationship and non-relationship status. (cause if she did, shit... ). instead, big red tells these [not even acquaintances from the pta days] that i'm happy. i'm going in for the kill. i'm doing it for the thrill. she finished grad school and moved herself to san francisco. no, she's not seeing anyone in particular. she's independent. often, they reply, oh, lousie, don't worry. she'll figure it out. ha!

sometimes, when i'm not in my most bon vivant, independent woman, girl power, hey-soul sistah mood, i think... shit, maybe i should try that online thing again. screeeeech. halt. don't worry. i. won't. do. it.

buuuut, sometimes i think about what my online dating profile would look like...

 full stops and exclamation marks

my words stumble before i start

name: none of your beeswax

age: appropriate

gender: f

location: sf

education: very

body type: appropriate

about me: oy. i have to color my hair every three weeks so you can't tell that i'm really a blonde. often, i like to be the first person in line at whole foods on a sunday morning. yes, i like to be up early. i can definitely stay up one night per weekend, but probably, rarely (read: never) on school nights. i hang my hopes out on the line. will they be ready for you in time? i try really hard not to be defined by my profession; for, i'd like to have several at one time and over time. 

activities: dancing (not on a pole), pilates, yoga, riding around sf on a bike, blogging, reading blogs, sitting around doing absolutely nothing. (i'm so cliché).

in a date: i prefer facial hair. be smart. have a job. like my parents. someone very opinionated, while simultaneously incredibly open-minded. romantic gestures! come to yoga with me on friday nights. check in with me. be on time. always. read to me, out loud. be patient. very. very. patient. how far can you send emotions? i have a flare for the dramatics and make hella mistakes, so forgive me. be so loyal. i am. don't be all scared that this could be it. let's go to war, to make peace. let's be cold, to create heat.

music i like: devotchka, cyndi lauper, ryan adams, la roux, fleetwood mac, beethoven, rem, florence + the machine, k'naan, tchaikovsky, sigur ros. i'm real real mad at beyonce right now, so don't even think of playing her shit.

things i don't like: bad spelling. bad grammar. (oh, but please be nice if i spell things wrong, or forget a comma... and just tell me, nicely. i will promptly fix it and thank you for your detailed awareness). bad vocabulary. disrespectful language, when it's to another person... curse words are ok, when used correctly. dumb-ass behavior. bad driving. selfish behavior. 

i hope in darkness 

we can see

and you're not blinded by the light from me.

things that are not ideal about me: i love my orthopedic dansko clogs. i am e.m.o.t.i.o.n.a.l. and uber-sensitive too. when i find something i like, i hold on tight (some people call it needy, but he's an asshole... if i like you, i'm gonna want to spend time with you). sometimes i like to sit around and do absolutely nothing, and it's even better when you do it with me. i react very quickly and often inappropriately, so i need a lot of do-overs. and what are feelings without emotions? but, when i don't react fast, it's because i am thinking real hard about exactly what i want to say (i've been told that this is frustrating). i get jealous. what? i'm probably never gonna want to spend the night at your house... my place is crazy amazing. sometimes i suck at following-through. i hate hate hate doing dishes... so, that can be your job, ok?

oh i'm hoping you'll understand

and not let go of my hand

any takers? jesus, no wonder i don't do this shit... no one needs that information at first glance. and who'd actually appreciate my song lyric inserts... oh ya, they'd be there for realsies. (oh, and probably, most people wouldn't put a here's what to not like about me section). whoops. 

ok, so while no one is looking at my (n)online profile... i'll be putting piccys up in my apartment. images are from here. lyrics are la roux. in for the kill from the self-titled album la roux.

all is love...

we've always said that his life should be a screenplay. and not just recently, because things have gotten especially complicated... but always. the man has been living for so long. so. long. he's 93. i've mentioned him once or twice before. big red's dad, my grandpa jim, and he's rapidly declining. though, if you asked him, he'd tell you not fast enough.

i'll save all the really sad and clinical stuff for another day. for now, i'll tell you the story-worthy stories (as they say on the moth). which, in actuality, may be just as sad. this one... not my experience, as told to me by big red herself... there may be a few dramatic liberties taken... but, the gist will be there. promise.

i will try not to burden you

i can hold these inside.

i will hold my breath 

until all these shivers subside,

just look in my eyes.

when my mom arrived at le chateau bleu in burbank last wednesday, she took the elevator up to his floor. when the elevator arrived, he was standing there, in the 6th floor foyer, as though he knew she was on her way up. but he didn't. i have seen things that you will never see. leave it to memory me. he was just standing there, serendipitously, waiting for the elevator to arrive... ski cap on his head, thermal long john's tucked into his dress shoes and rolled over at the waist several times, walker in hand.

he told my mom he was on his way to check out of this shit hotel (symbolic, no?). but, he didn't have any money, so he was planning on selling his walker for $5. that way, he'd have cab fare to get to her house. for, that's where he'd rather be. i will try not to worry you.

it's 2011. a cab ride from burbank to long beach might be a touch over $5. and le bleu chateau is not a hotel, it's an assisted living facility. (truly, it's an amazing facility, and i am so thankful they are taking care of my last living grand-père. check them out. though, i can't without crying... so sappy).

i want you to remember

i need something to fly 

over my grave again

i need something to breathe.

thank the goddesses that my mom had a carl's junior milkshake with her. so, she scooped up grandpa jim and his walker and took him to the lobby to check out. on their way down, they ran into a few of his friends. (the ladies of le bleu chateau have taken a particular liking to old jimmy, obvi). so, the gals and one volunteer stopped to chat with him, which only confused him even more. he ended up asking the volunteer if he could stay at the hotel just one more night. her response? of course, jimmy. you can stay as long as you'd like.

big red is such a champion. she visitis him so often. she tells me these stories. weekly, if not more. and if we didn't know him so well, know how vibrant and opinionated and stubborn and adventurous and independent this man was in his cognizant life, there would be some comedy to all of this. all of this... these people. the woman who speaks only in noises and whistles... like an elderly version of björk. but, this shit is real. and most days, jimmy doesn't know where he is. heart. breaking. but, this is his path right now. and in our cyclical lives, this is his progression. this cruel disease is his progression.

until his stale date finally comes (that's how he puts it), we'll just keep on loving. i will try not to breathe, this decision is mine. i have lived a full life, and these are the eyes that i want you to remember. that's the easy job. my job. big red... christ. the woman is remarkable.

want to learn more about alzheimer's... visit the alzheimer's association. consider making a pledge or volunteering your time.

lyrics by the most brilliant and amazing r.e.m. try not to breathe from automatic for the people. pictures of grandpa jim from our family album. top to bottom: headshot, war clerk, passport photos.

it's good for you... (slash, currently listening)

elated. that's how's it's gonna be today. which is the best, yes? my good friend KPA has an office next door to my workplace. she's the boss and has a gorgeous space where she is sitting all alone. sooooo, the gorgeous gal has offered me a little office where i can come on my breaks and do things... like this. write to all of you. it's so nice to be away from that boom boom music and all of the likes and umms. hooray.

i'm thinking it'll be a weekend of being good to ourselves. tonight, iyengar yoga with some goodies of pals. last night, sushi din din with JT. tomorrow crab dinner with m. all good shit.

and it's so necessary, you know? especially in this season. when we are always distracted and oh, it's the holidays seems to be an excuse for piss-poor behavior. i'm gonna stop using that excuse this year, and get down to business. i'm making it a season of change. renew. new opportunities. (i'll be writing more, so keep your eyes peeled). and i'm buckling down to the idea of actually writing for more than just myself. putting my fingers into the freelance world. perhaps something already brewing on that front. but, if you hear of anything, send it my way, would you? (i do, actually, know how to write un-emotionally... i know, can you believe it?)

back on track... change. doing the good stuff. i'm listening to some killer tunes. literally, looked up at myself in the bathroom mirror this morning and realized i had been dancing. dance. party. dancing. again. two days in a row. la roux, you're gettin' for me.

here's the playlist:
in for the kill - la roux
i wish i was a punk rocker - sandi thom
sun of a gun - oh land
your house is my world - apparat
lover to lover - florence + the machine
only you - joshua radin
two way street - kimbra
gary song - alice smith
perfection - oh land
bulletproof - la roux
get better - mates of state (from yesterday)
fool of me - me'shell ndegeocello
paper bag - fiona apple
sugar town - nancy sinatra
tom's diner (a cappella) - suzanne vega
maps (acoustic) - yeah yeah yeahs
let him fly - patty griffin

make wonderful things for yourself and your gang this weekend, and i'll catch you on the flip (unless i'm feeling feisty, which is probable... no, inevitable, and maybe i'll write more words (with loads of new lyrics to insert) at the weekend).

have you heard of her? brilliant, and it's where i got the images for today.

digress...

it's kind of amazing how much changes over the course of a couple of years. hell, over a couple of months, even. this morning i went out to move my car for street sweeping (yes, i live in a city with near-perfect public transportation and i still own a car. i'm. from. l. a.), it was cold. like, real cold. but, when i walked back into my apartment with that crisp feeling still lingering, i smiled a little to myself and thought about how beautiful it is here, even when it's cold. even when it's foggy. even when it's raining. everything's gonna get lighter. even if it never gets better. ah. but it then occurred to me that this feeling is also about me and my place here in this city. and my love for the experiences here... and my growing feeling of comfort.

you see, two short years ago i was living in new york, and i was miserable, especially when it was cold. when it was foggy. when it was gray. i got hella good at complaining about these things. i lived on the border of bronxville and yonkers. aka, bonkers. i was in graduate school. let's be clear, graduate school was the best decision i ever made. and sarah lawrence was the perfect match for me, but the circumstances surrounding that world and that time of my life were, at best, overwhelming.

never ahead of, never behind it. occasionally guarded, just keeps us surrounded.

i hope i wasn't the only mfa student walking to school thinking, "what the fuck do i think i'm doing here? who do i think i am? an mfa? i haven't got a clue what i'm doing. i'm going to fail. hard. and in front of a lot of people. i wanna go home." come on board, it's a curious sight. absorbing sound that's never been right. seriously, often. oh, and of course there was snow on the ground and i was walking up hill and my snow boots gave me blisters and i hated my haircut and my mom and dad were entirely too far away. what? it was awful.

done. i'm done.

oh! (if you'll allow me to digress) my relationship status was also horrendous. my long distance and highly complicated boyfriend and i were on the outs. i started dating a playwriting student that i met at orientation that was the absolute wrong match for me. seriously ya'll... he date raped someone whilst we were dating. real life. true story. (btdubs... after spilling the beans to my mom about you-know-who she decided that my next boyfriend has to be boyfriend by committee. smart ass lady). i propose a less serious boat. but don't mistake it for a party of jokes.

anywhoodle. san francisco has magic. no matter how gray. no matter how rainy. no matter how effin' cold. my apartment is full of life. and it feels more like my childhood home than any other place i've lived over the years. (the men in this city need help though... i digress, again. since moving to san francisco, you-know-who broke up with me thrice. i was strung along and stood up on my birthday, lied to about intentions and filed a police report for the alcoholic who went on a bender while we were dating. pity party complete. i'm done with that shit. big red says the committee must approve. i agree). forget all your politics for a while. let the color schemes arrive.

today's words by mates of state. get better from their album re-arrange us. found this tent here. and these gorgeous window coverings from her blog (i love her). hope your gray day is sunny somewhere, even if only on the inside.

dear readers...

come with me... if you have your heart open. if you aren't going to be into my girl power for the next few-hundred words, kindly move along and read me later... (however, a small disclaimer... i am riled up and writing emotionally. that's not an apology, by any means... merely a piece of information. join me!).

have you ever had your heart broken in a way that just sends you into orbit? an utter state of shock? well. here. i. am. broken. but, this is not the point of this story. for, this asshole, pitiful excuse for a human being and boyfriend deserves absolutely no more of my energy. tonight i'm gonna bury that horse in the ground. and i am not allowing myself to regret, feel ashamed of/for or be embarrassed by all of this... instead, i am remembering that i can take so much from it. remember how i want to love... the appropriate ways to treat another human... the boundaries that i can set for myself, and not be afraid that setting my limits will turn someone away, because if he turns away... and i've been a fool and i've been blind. i can never leave the past behind. then i don't want it. i. don't. want. him.

shake it out.

i want, instead, to tell you how much hope is coming back into my heart, at this very moment... i want to tell you about the outpour of support that i have received since monday afternoon. i want to tell you how thankful i am for the friends in my life. so much to tell you...

one of my favorites, with the most open heart i've ever met, sent me a text this evening reminding me that it's my heart, not his. so well put, g. oh the river, oh the river, it's running free. and i'll join in the joy it brings me. i've seen it in the flights of birds, i've seen it in you.

but, there are my other friends, the trainers at the gym, clients, the marines and the everyday pals who have all offered to hurt him physically... don't worry, i won't ask them to do that... (but i wouldn't mind it if he hurt emotionally... i'm horrible sometimes).

then there's my amazing lawyer friend who put it so succinctly... there will be no justice in this case. but in order to get to the heart, i think sometimes you have to cut through. but you can. and she's right. no matter how much i am hurting (and he knows he hurt me), he. won't. ever. care. his actions were calculated, purposeful, pre-meditated, deliberate and royally fucked-up.

just keep following the heartlines on your hand. keep it up. i know you can.

only one person has told me that she-told-me-so. told me not to give it another go. but, only one. and, truthfully, i'm a little bit thankful for her. it's helping me keep my head on straight. because she, along with everyone else in my life, have told me that they would physically hurt me, if i ever, even for a split second, considered allowing him back into my life. thank my gods and goddesses for these people, i'm serious.

and i'm also serious when i say that sometimes, i am an awful person. and for reasons that i will not divulge (again, he gets no more of my energy) i did not tell my mom or dad that we had gotten back together, oh ya, this was round three for us. i blatantly lied. to both of them. (probably, that dishonesty was a part of my broken heart). but, on the advice of some super savy ladies, i called big red yesterday and came clean. about. everything. when i told her what he did, she cried for me. your heart is the only place that i call home. (she also wants to make a vodou doll and hurt him, physically. the woman is amazing). but, in the end, she thanked me for telling her and told me how wonderful i am, just as a mother is meant to do. i tell you, big red read her mothering handbook backwards and forwards. memorized the shit out of that thing.

as i came home from work tonight, flo on full blast (the first time i've listened to music since monday), i couldn't help but smile. maybe it's my neighborhood... but, i'd like to think that everyone was with me... walking with me, telling me to keep my head high. that it really is my heart, not his. i smiled at everyone holding hands. i smiled at all the bun-head students on muni leaving the san francisco ballet. i smiled at the woman who almost ran me over with her bike cause she was checkin' out some foxy lady. i smiled at the homeless kiddos in front of the market... they smiled back the hardest.

just keep following the heartlines on your hand. keep it up. i know you can.

so. hey, universe. and hey, friends... thank you. i could not ask for anything more from you. your texts to make sure i am ok. your calls. your smiles in passing. i am grateful. keep sharing it. with everyone you know. we are so lucky to be human sometimes... when we get to share our lives with one another and rally with each other. and love each other, respectfully. and honestly. thank you times one-hundred million.

just keep following the heartlines on your hand. keep it up. 

'cause i am.

words by florence + the machine. these ones from shake it out and these from heartlines... both on ceremonials. love that flo... maybe it's the red hair (soul-sisters)... but if you haven't listened to heartlines yet, do it. it's got chanting and xena-style war whoops, a bass line that makes. me. move. oh, and thanks for being in my life. i adore you. moving bodies found here and here.

things to never say to me...

you: i don't feel anything.

me: nothing?

you: nope.

me: you don't feel anything, anywhere in your body?

you: no.

me: so, right now, it feels as though your whole body is asleep. and you have to put in absolutely zero effort to keep your arms over your head while leaning half-way back?

you: well. i mean. no. yes.

me: pardon?

you: i mean, i can feel something, but it doesn't feel hard.

the difference between work and effort. work and pain. work and nothing. help.


found this flyer here.

prime rib day...

we here in the guest family really don't know how to follow rules. i know i say that a lot, about myself... but i was realizing how deep this shit really runs. see, i brought my mom to my mat class at aol yesterday. every time i introduce my mom to someone i get one of several responses. 1) your mom is soooo beautiful (duh) 2) your mom is soooooo nice/sweet (yup) 3) are you sure that you came from her?!?!?! (promise, assholes) 4) oh, it's very clear that you are related (my fave). i am an old woman named after my mother. my old man has another child that's grown old.

every time i asked the class to do an exercise that was less pilates-oriented and more mind-body/visceral sphere/noodley movement/who-the-hell-knows, she would make that face that says, ohhhh... honey, this is a good one. we all had a giggle and i think the aol gals realized why i am the way that i am.

anywhoodle. for thanksgiving, we, the guests, had a prime rib rather than a traditional turkey. it was ah. maze. ing.

when my mom asked what we had last year for thanksgiving, i reminded her that we ate turkey at my shitty, underground (literally, not politically) mission apartment. she said, oh, not memorable. i'm glad we're having beef this year.

make me an angel that flies from montgomery. make me a poster of an old rodeo. just give me one thing that i can hold on to.

but, really the best was the turkey prime rib day conversations...

-everything about the history of the financial climate in the united states from the 1960's to today. from the perspective of a recovering republican, honest, sees things in black and white (most of the time), but slowly softening as he gets older, banker... aka tony guest, my dear old dad. it was intense and sometimes i had to gloss over a bit and think about things that i love to not get angry, but then every now and then i would get heated and shout things that sarah lawrence, herself would be proud of... like, if we all just acted like fucking humans and treated each other appropriately and with respect, none of this would be happening. oh, there's so much more to this story, but i might have to save it for now.

-occupy. occupy sf, occupy oakland, occupy davis (i got real emotional about this one), occupy wall street, occupy long beach... wait, what? occupy the lbc is four or five guys on the corner of 7th and park handing out flyers in front of starbucks. 

-the other side of pollution. when i was in the sixth grade, i had to take a speech writing class. every friday we were given a topic and over the weekend we'd all write speeches and present them during the week. one friday we had to write about the perils of pollution. why it was bad, how it was going to kill our world and what we would do to stop it. check, done. i did a great job. but, the following week, the assignment was to write a speech of our choice. any topic we could think of. whaaaaat?! heaven. thank you. i went home and thought of a million things to write about, but how could i ever pick just one?! tony suggested that i write about the other side of pollution. the stories of the people who worked in pollution-generating industries. the people who would lose their jobs if a bunch of sixth graders changed the world and got rid of pollution. basically, i discussed why we needed pollution to promote capitalism, economic growth and job security. oh, layla. my teacher was quite impressed. it caused a stink with the other parents. mr. partington came to my rescue... we had a discussion and he helped me share with stinky parents, sixth graders and uppity administrators that i was presenting information. i did not necessarily agree with the information i was presenting, but wasn't it great that an eleven-year old could remove herself from emotional journalism and present a piece that ignited such controversy. oy, if he only knew how emotional my writing would become. dear, dear mr. partington. how the hell can a person go to work in the morning. and come home in the evening and have nothing to say.

-several times my mom shouted time out. sometimes in reference to our conversations, but other times to get some help in the kitchen. there's flies in the kitchen. i can hear 'em buzzing. and i ain't done nothing since i woke up today.

-grandpa jim. he called after our meal. he's not well. very. not. well. he asked my mom to come pick him up and take him home. when she told him she couldn't he asked if she would just come pick him up and take him to her office at the newspaper. huh? (big red has never worked at a newspaper). when i was a young girl well, i had me a cowboy. he weren't much to look at, just a free rambling man. she cried. i listened. but that was a long time and no matter how hard i try. the years just flow by like a broken down dam.

all in all, it was a successful day of being thankful. we listened to great records and just loved each other. big red and i did some pilates after my dad went back to the hotel. then we snuggled for a bit. that's my favorite part. maybe next year a barbecued salmon.

brilliant words by john prine, angel from montgomery. check out bonnie raitt's cover of it, though. it's why i love the poetry of the song so much. 

paper turtle...

etsy is going to be the end of me. financially. i cannot help myself when i get on that darned website. today i discovered this. please check it out. brill. i. ant. i bought this...

soon she will be hanging in my very own apartment. CH thinks i'm an absolute nutter (which is obviously true in many regards), but i'm on a design kick. speaking of which. you should also check out this shop. they just opened a location in sf, around the corner from my house. whoops. yesterday i bought this...

plus a killer old-timey map of sf and a new record player. what? ya. the hand me down record player from big red and tony has served an amazing purpose. however, it's become a bit bulky for my (design) taste. (cross your fingers, i'm working on becoming minimal and clean, design-wise. but if i keep buying amazing shit i'm gonna be more of a storage facility than anything else). don't fret though, JT will be giving my record player a great home. he's pretty excited, and i love giving things away that i have loved to a new loving home.

i have so much more to tell you. lyrics to insert. pictures to paskmmmmett, (paste... but xavier-stallone just walked across the keyboard and typed that bit for you. he's got words to share too...). but i'll save it for later, maybe even today...

love from me and xavier-stallone.

currently listening...

almost famous soundtrack... it's been a while my friend, but here we are again.

move me on to any black square, use me any time you want... just remember that the goal is for all of us to capture all we want.

having (yet another) clean-out/rearrange the apartment day. symbolic? yes. cathartic. def. get the shit out. allow space for the new stuff.

don't surround yourself with yourself, move on back two squares... send an instant karma to me, initial it with loving care...

enjoy your weekend. make room for things and stuff. 

words: yes, i've seen all good people. piccy from here.