oh what a day...

do you ever wonder why we are the way that we are? i know. that's a fairly loaded question... but, i think about it a lot. what drives the impulses? the snap decisions? the nature by which i conduct myself on a daily basis? two words.

big. red.

aka, my mother. often, i have said that my behavior (towards people, situations, feelings, etc) is made up of pieces of information that run deep. deep in my bones. my marrow. my essence and my dna make-up. i am this way because big red and tony are who they are. and shit runs deep, let me tell you.

i once received the greatest compliment i could ever ask for. the director of my graduate program told me that i was the most empathetic dancer she had ever seen. that when i moved, i had the ability to take on not just the movement intentions of the person i was working with, but also the thoughts, character and emotive qualities. this blew my mind. and while she explained that this would serve me greatly in my dance life, that it probably existed in my emotional life and could become quite crippling if i wasn't careful. spot. on. jesus, she is a brilliant woman.

so, it comes as no surprise that when big red sent me an email last night i simultaneously laughed and cried. (she went to visit grandpa jim, her dad, at the old folks home yesterday in burbank. he's living in the memory unit. she refers to a woman called helen who is another inmate in the memory unit... she likes my mom).

we are so related...

Hi Bean,

Oh, what a day! 

Remember the neighborhood where the Nova broke down on the way to Cal Arts? I can now confirm that that is a Bermuda Triangle. I was lost twice there today. It is a place where the streets get lost on one corner of the map book and don't pick up on the corner of the next page. Why, you might ask was I there, in the funk hole of holes? Ah, Grandpa Jim's hearing aid has been broken since Wednesday last. It was that little, teeny tiny door that houses the battery. I took it over to Mabel at Hear X in Sunland, just a mere hop, skip, and a jump from the Funk Hole Triangle. 

Oh, and the teeth have gone missing. I need a new word to say to express "Christ Almighty." But, you get the picture: what's next?

No sound, no bite.

Helen had her hair did, but they didn't do her roots. They're white. She is very punk.

When I walked into the dining room at lunch time, Grandpa Jim was sitting in a chair and a woman in a wheel chair was sitting along side him traveling in the opposite direction. They had their hands on each other's shoulders and were looking into each other's eyes. It was quite lovely. I have no idea who she is. I love that he has some human connection and affection.

Oh, I went to the worst Target on the planet today in Burbank. B.O. Beyond Oakland. Baskets in the parking lot make it impossible to park or walk along the sidewalk; 35 open check out stations, each 10 deep with customers. I abandoned my cart in aisle 3. They didn't have my hair color, anyway.

How does one turn a day like this into a good day. "Are you having a good day or a bad day?" I don't know, but here's what I did: shower off the smell of urine and poop, let the hot water run over my eyes until the tears and water are one; dine on comfort food: cheese and wine. Tell the people you love that you really love them. Layla, I love you.

your mama

how'd you do? i laughed and cried all over again. remind me to tell you about helen sometime, the punk one... she's up there as one of the most fascinating women alive.

and yes, i've given my blog self [yet] another make-over. keep up, eh? thoughts? i love you. all these images are from ffffound.com. i'm obsessed.