not about... [part one]

this is part one of a two (maybe three) part post.

--

i've written and deleted this post on a daily basis since december 14. that was the day of the sandy hook elementary school shooting in newtown, connecticut.

i've been a whole mixed bag of thoughts and feelings and shit since this happened and am filled with questions about our world.

why?

i grew up in long beach, california in a lovely neighborhood by the beach. long beach has a long-standing reputation of being a rough community filled with gang violence and boasts to be the home of more than one nationally-known gang. at times, this reputation is true. though, it does not rule our community.

growing up, i knew of shootings, drive-bys, gang initiations and city-wide riots. i went to high school with a young man who was killed by gun violence. i also went to school with a young man who was convicted of murder.

i have never lived in fear. never thought i could be next.

when i hear the dialogue about the state of our nation's politics as it relates to gun control and protection after an even like sandy hook, i can only express concern and confusion. when i hear that a common response is to put armed police officers in every school in our country - or to encourage educators to carry weapons in the classroom - this is when i begin to consider fear. fear that this is what it's come to.

we are a country living in fear.

this evening i read this post by one of my absolute favorite bloggers, hila at le projet d'amour. the post is incredibly brilliant and highly charged, which i love, and is as it should be. hila touches on some exceptional issues surrounding victim-blaming in cases of rape and sexual assault. as you may have already guessed, i've got whole pile of opinions on this... tonight, my take-away thought that provoked this post, is the idea that telling a woman to dress more conservatively, to wear flats instead of heels, to be sober 100% of the time or to never be alone, ever, promotes fear. fear that we are not safe. we are educating and encouraging women to not get raped, instead of telling rapists not to rape.

Change is not going to magically happen if we keep regurgitating this crap over and over again – if we keep telling women that it’s their responsibility to make sure they don’t get raped, rather than telling rapists not to rape. 

ok. so i'm having a couple of conversations at the same time here... but i'm hoping you get where i'm going with this. 

how on earth can we ask ourselves to carry more weapons and expect to avoid weapon-driven violence? i took hours upon hours of gang-related, anti-violence, d.a.r.e-type classroom modules throughout elementary school. it worked for me, personally, though i know it didn't resonate with everyone.

what is missing? how do we regain control and live proactively? 

--

check back in the next few days as i continue to delve into the ideas of education, communication, dialogue and mental wellness as a response to living in fear in part two.

image found here.

do-over...

do you ever wish you could have do-overs? in elementary school, we did it all the time. the playground had a constant echo of voices shouting interference! and do-over-do-over-do-over! and back then, it was so easy... a bird flew to close to the batter, a kickball rolled into the handball court, someone looked at someone else sideways... there was always a reason, and do-over was always an acceptable response.

i wish it were still acceptable. and though, in some cases, it is... my brain always goes to that place of infinite do-overs. where time travel is available and totally plausible. in the vein of if i knew then, what i know now... it would all be so different.

i would go back to high school and and tell myself to relax a little. breathe. don't follow all the rules. i would have told myself that he was not the right guy to make such adult decisions with. i would have told myself to trust in being comfortable with exactly who i was. no need to try and conform. because the trying didn't really work, and i was always in a state of in between.

i'd go back to some of those appointments in the chair and say do not get that haircut. your head will not support that style. hello flock of seagulls, roxette and the ever popular straight bangs with permed hair. and no matter how hard i want it, i will never look like siena miller with that short hair do.

there are times that i think about going back and doing college and grad school all over again. with the sensitivity that i have now. with more technique and reverence to the craft. with the knowledge that i have now, as to not appear quite as wide-eyed, amazed, baffled and with that feeling of who decided to let me be a student here? and when are they going to realize i'm just faking it?!

i'd go back and rsvp to all of the weddings that i didn't go to because i was worried about all the money that i never seem to have.

i would have never started that fight with craig that i'll never be able to take back.

i'd erase my entire last relationship.

except. well, that's not really reasonable is it? at age 30 i still want do-overs for today's behavior. i'd be really happy to erase much of last night's phone conversation and be settled by having all of the secret information of the eventual outcome.

where would i be if i did everything exactly the way i wanted, in hind-sight at least? if i had no major scars on my emotional record, what kind of street-cred would i actually have? and while i spend (far too much) time thinking about these things... i anticipate that it's what makes me as self-aware as i am... and trust, i am still really working on being better at this. i promise.

the desire for do-overs is what leads the many many many conversations i have in my head on a daily basis, when i'm figuring out how to respond, how to act, how to be. and i need to remember that i always want t a do-over, so maybe, layla, you could try and give yourself a do-over... in the moment. you know?

i ffffound these images here.

l is for the way...

it's labor day. there's a rule about white pants related to this day, but as it turns out i'm not super into the rules. you know? today, labor day meant that i only had to work a half day. mini days sure are great. although, when i woke up, my out of town guest was still here, and when i got home he was en route back to long beach... so here's the deal team: i'm in a long distance relationship.

yes.

on the same weekend that i had a brown ledge reunion (which is just plain old good ju-ju), i met this guy. he's in my life now. and here's the deal. we had to have a come-to-jesus talk about this blog. was i going to be the kind of blogger that never mentioned her significant other? hell no. so, maybe the kind that had some sort of code-name for him? eh, maybe. nah, y'all, his name is jordan. he's remarkable. and he lives in long beach. minor detail.

jake darling invited me to the park that weekend to sit around. i went thinking it would be just us. so i did not put on my cutest outfit. i had not brushed my hair in a day or three. i was a teensy bit hanged-over and i still had only half a voice. when i walked up and saw a pile of people, jake made fun of me for sounding like a river-rat. the first words of actual substance out of my mouth were fuck you. oh, hi. jordan is it? nice to meet you. pardon my everything.

turns out jordan didn't so much care. i am convinced he's quite delusional. he not only found me attractive, but actually mentioned to our mutual friends that he thought i was very cool. and that it was very cool to meet me. (he says cool a lot. i think it's cool).

i was fairly convinced that i'd never see him again, and wasn't super excited about that. but, darling jarrett got on the old facebook and told us to get it together already and be friends. being the free-thinking, independent-spirited adult i am, i followed his instructions diligently and friend requested this bearded new yorker.

long to short. facebook messages turned into emails, emails turned into phone calls. and phone calls have turned into a handful or so of dollars worth of round trip airplane tickets, a killer mixtape, a wedding in healdsburg (not ours), countless endless conversations (some easier than others), a lot of laughing until our bellies hurt, a few new friends, some tears, a meeting with tony guest and big red and a whole lot of love. that's right. l.o.v.e.

the parallels in our lives are uncanny. we've gotten to a point that when our stories don't have some kind of bizarre parallel with some far-off memory from the corner of our brains, we think that's the weird part.

so, we're giving it a go. send us your good energy would you? i love you. oh! and. i'm 30 now.

control/change...

so, it gets a little confusing when you're like me and have a great love for change and the unknown... the adventurous spirit takes over and i forget to look back at what i have. but then there are those moments that i cling to what is grounded, solid and reliable. it makes for an interesting internal dialogue at times, to say the least.

in an effort to remain as self aware as possible (yes, it's happening), i'm embracing both. both. as always, the constant prospect of change at work is ever present. i wonder if i enable that because its the true nature of the job, or i just need it to be... y'all let's admit to one another, it's the latter. it's almost as though i know i cannot have complete control at work (duh), and so, if it's constantly changing and i am just one piece of the instigation of that change, then really, no one is in control. we all are. together.

last week, i wrote approximately 48 and a half blog posts in my head. i do that a lot, but usually something sparkly flies by and i forget what i meant to say. i've tried writing notes in my phone (oh my phone... rip the screen on tina sparkle... i flung her across grant avenue in north beach two weekends ago. ugh), and i've also tried keeping a moleskin handy to write things down... i'm still searching for the perfect combination of devices and accoutrements to hold myself blog-accountable.

i'm a series of tangents and digressions this morning, eh? but hey, i'm the boss around here!

so one of the 48 and half posts from last week had something to do with coffee and my newfound love of the regularity (read never-changing) schedule of my favorite barista at the shop around the corner from my house. i intended to tell you about mac, my 100% favorite barista. about our slow and continually growing relationship. he knows what i order, we both have red hair, we share a love for men in overalls (that's a good story, i promise) and he generally makes me smile. in fact, a monday is not a monday without my morning dose of mac.

but y'all... he was not in a good place today. change! what what? he did not even say hello to me today. he was far gone in a conversation with everett (my 2nd favorite barista) about his roommate's huge mural in their apartment. oh mac. here i thought we had something beautiful.

i know, i know. layla bean get to the point or quit rambling about nothing... read that one liner two paragraphs above.

my point, i'm accepting change even as it relates to the things that i rely on to be my constant, like mac. we're all allowed to have completely unaware days when we don't want to talk to other crazy red heads who order the same cup of plain coffee everyday.

at any rate. did i mention that i'm falling in love? fast and hard y'all. ha! more on that later.

all these pics are from instagram. you can follow me @laylabean. i love you. i love love. and i love weddings (i went to one this weekend).

us...

oh my posts are lacking. i said it before and i'm not afraid to say it again... it is not for lack of inspiration. in fact, it is quite the contrary. team, let me tell you. my life is full of inspiration these days. the past 18 days in particular... but even before then. there is clarity up in here. i am grateful.

oh, the things i need to tell you. all will come. in time. for now, how 'bout this.... i got this in an email...

accompanied by the message: this is what i think you and i will look like to other people.


but here's what's even better. when i clicked on the image attachment to save it to my little computer, it showed up with the title he gave it when he saved it... you following? he saved it as us. melt.


and so, while my words in print are few, there is an abundance everywhere else. big red was in town for the weekend, saw moonrise kingdom (again), went to the gaultier exhibit and generally delighted each other. work is good. that cat is good too. here are just a few photos (that's code for: i still can't find the right words, so i'll distract you with shiny pictures instead...)...

the picture was found via this tumblr. 

breaking up is hard to do...

remember that song by neil sedaka? here's the thing, it was playing in whole foods on friday while i was buying the ingredients for a meal i was preparing to make for a pal. i hadn't heard it in ages, but somehow i knew every word... i be-bopped through the produce department and even kick-ball-changed my way to the meat counter. for a song about such an emotionally taxing event, it's got a great beat and a lot of doobie doo's to sing-a-long with!

the following night, i broke up with that same pal i was shopping for... as a friend.

have you ever done it? usually, when i'm ready to be done/need to be done with a friendship, i let it fade away. cowardly really. i stop calling. i stop responding. fade.

but this time i did it. i said all the things that i needed to say. the things that i usually wish i had said when i look back at the situation.

it was awful. and arduous.

you see. i love[d] this friend. but as much as we rallied our friendship around our mutual ability to be fiercely loyal, it turns out he couldn't hold up his end of the bargain. i think he fooled himself into believing that his untruths were true. that the issues he created were actually my issues. hell. no. m.f.

my usual nature is to ignore the issues. lie to myself and pretend its all ok, because when we're together, we have a great time. it's as though i'm telling myself that having a dysfunctional friendship is better than having no friendship at all. that's dangerous. last night i picked up my bravery and said no thanks. ok, not exactly that politely... whoops.

you see, we met for drinks, ate dinner and then had one more drink. when i was in the bathroom at the bar i thought to myself, leave. you shouldn't stick around for this shit kind of friendship. tell him his behavior is not ok and get the fuck out. but i didn't. instead i went back to the bar and ordered another drink, sat down and feigned interest in whatever we were talking about.

as big red pointed out... honey, that's a line in an eagles song... take another shot of courage, wonder why the right words never come. my liquid courage came in the form of rye whiskey.

but, after he walked me home. all the right words came. well, right might not be totally accurate. i could have been wayyy more eloquent. probably, it would have been more effective without tears pouring out of my eyes... but i did say it. don't call. don't be my friend. i don't deserve this mess that you've created. 

part of me hopes that he'll come to his senses and get it together... though, the realist in me (who rarely makes appearances) knows that it's highly unlikely. i will forever be thankful for the brief bits of lovely friendship that we did share, though.

xoxo. be kind. love your friends as you love yourself. and remind me to do the same when i forget, ok? thanks. find all these pictures on various boards on my pinterest.

try new foods...

that's something we say in our family. a lot. try new foods. when i was a kid it was a literal statement. usually, i only wanted to eat bread, pizza, pizza bread, noodles, pancakes or generally anything that could be traced back to a grain... mmmmm. so, whenever something foreign came across my plate (read: fruits, vegetables, vegetables and vegetables) my dear old dad would say bean bean, tryyyyyyy new foods. in that sing-songy, look at me from the corner of his eye, mischievous smile on face kind of way that only my dad can master. inevitably, i would. generally it was ok, except for that one time with the cooked carrots. but, i try not to think about that too much. bad.

later in life, try new foods became metaphorical. for new experiences, adventures and challenges. it was our guest-family way of encouraging one another under the radar. it's our tagline now. sometimes tony guest will leave me a voicemail that says only, hi doodle, try new foods.


all of this has become so much more relevant lately. every day i have to try new foods. and every day i think about this little blog that i am continually ignoring. i hate ignoring this here bloggy-poo. if you've read more than one post, you've maybe noticed a few things. 1) big red is a major player in my life. (and it should be said... tony guest is infinitely as important... but in a more subtle manner). 2) this family of mine holds hell of importance all 'round. 3) i am this way because of these crazy ass people... and i am super into discovering the little details that i notice in my life that i can trace right back to big red or that tony man.

so... here we go again friends. change does a body (and a blog?) good. mother/father's daughter. we can find about 18 trillion blogs about being a new parent, being the best mommy or coolest daddy... but here i am doing what i know how to do, but also what i don't. writing about what i know how to write, but also what i don't...  most days i'm figuring out new ways to make it all make sense. being a daughter. knowing only what has happened so far... in close to thirty years. anticipating the next thirty.

so try a new food, won't you? mother/father's daughter... that's me. and here's who made me:

i know, right!? this is the late 70's in brookline, vermont. when my mom met my dad's mom for the first time... you can't really tell, but big red's wearing hot pants! what what. trust.

i love you.

we can do it...

forgive. i'm about to get all preachy up on yo' asses...

i've been watching mad men for the last few days. i gave the first few episodes a shot about six months ago, but i couldn't handle the blatant misogyny. could not handle it. until, i read an article regarding the show's writers. i'm making the numbers up, parce que i can't remember the exact details, but it goes something like this. seven out of the nine staff writers for the show are women. that shit made me think.

women. writing about other women's experiences in corporate 1960's new york. exploiting the gross misconduct of men as it relates to gender roles/stereotypes, racial inequality, homophobia and political confusion. so, i asked big red to watch it. she loves it. it is reminiscent of her childhood. big red grew up in various suburbs of los angeles, so the story lines seem a bit over-dramatized at times to her, but there is so much truth.

in an episode regarding the maidenform brassiere, a character states women wear bras for men, not for themselves. with utter conviction. and that's just a benign example. in a conversation about the upcoming kennedy-nixon election, the boss' wife says i'm not sure who we're voting for. can you imagine?!

the hard part for me... this was only forty years ago. not even close to a full lifetime. in the grand scheme of things, forty years is nothing. yet, here we are, looking back on it as if it were the olden days. but there are people, alive, who lived in that madison avenue world of 1962. and, you know, they still relate to a male-dominated sensibility.

of course, we've come a long way. thank goddess we have. so, i feel ill when i witness behavior in young women that can only be described as deplorable. one young woman calling another a bitch. allowing a young man to refer to her as my bitch. we must first demand respect from ourselves and from other women. creating the behavioral patterns that we wish all to emulate. no, this shit ain't easy. it takes time. but, in forty years, we've taken our bras off, redesigned them and put them back on with efficiency, comfort and most importantly with ourselves in mind.

we can do it.

let's discuss the impact of this photo and how it relates to a woman's image another day... for now, we'll use it to rally.

btdubs, this article, by ashley judd, prompted my early morning dose of girl power. she's got some interesting thoughts on a misogyny-driven media culture and its effects on women. she could totally be a sarah lawrence girl. here's a sneak peak at my favorite section... in response to putting on weight:

When I have gained weight, going from my usual size two/four to a six/eight after a lazy six months of not exercising, and that weight gain shows in my face and arms, I am a “cow” and a “pig” and I “better watch out” because my husband “is looking for his second wife.” (Did you catch how this one engenders competition and fear between women? How it also suggests that my husband values me based only on my physical appearance? Classic sexism. We won’t even address how extraordinary it is that a size eight would be heckled as “fat.”)

maidenform from here, kick-ass women from here and the riveter from here. support your fellow woman-kind today (and every day) would you? create patterns for yourself that you want to be translated into the way you are treated. the golden rule is a gem.

move ya' body...

oh heyyyyy. me and this guy:

are celebrating a year of friendship. yes, xavier stallone prince kitty that cat and i have been knowing each other for a whole year now. but, that's not what this post is really about, but i figured i had to stop making big red the subject of every post... you might begin to get the impression that i have no friends and no life. so, posting about my cat... so much better, right? oh, jesus.

generally, we look like this:

and these peeps are our neighbors:

the real point of this story is business related. that idea of change is still so prominent in my life. and, as it turns out, change promotes change. changes to the changes. ya dig? and the worst one? i have never had to sit in that effing office chair for so many hours in one day. gross. my back hurts like crazy town. so, i'm moving! moving my body that is. as much as possible.

in my training last week in la, i moved for two days. almost consistently. i felt the best. ever. swinging my head around. glorious.

seriously y'all. it works. got a loved one with low back issues? move. in a pain-free range of motion. as much as possible. it's magical unicorn medicine. and abundantly obvious.

i know, with no big red stories... there ain't much happening. there are plenty, of course. but, i'll keep 'em for another day.

found these ladies and their animals here and here. oh, and would you go ahead and tell yourself that you're doing a great job at least five more times today? because, you are. we are. we are doing great. great things. i love you.

a different camp, for different girls...

you guys, my organs are shifting again. i can feel it. it's kind of like that anxious feeling, only wayyyyy lower. deep down in my gut. there's work, and life, and love and all the unknown that comes along with it. and even though there has been so much change recently, i'm craving more. it's as though i got all changed up, started spinning on a different track, but also got flipped over. and i need just a little bit more to be on the right speed again. you know? (hey, big red... if you're reading, don't worry, all is well. i am well. just feeling reflective is all). she gets worried about me sometimes.

i've been sitting with my palms faced down in my variations of seated meditation lately... to keep me grounded. and i remembered, recently, how nothing has ever kept me as grounded as those fifteen summers i spent in vermont. thirteen of them at brown ledge.

i found this poem not too long ago. one of my bunkies re-organized the where i'm from template, by george ella lyon... to be about brown ledge. it's not a story, and probably isn't clear to anyone but a bunkie, but i need it to be here today. thanks...

brown ledge is about prayer flags that hang over the canoe dock, a brand new nalgene and table decorations.

brown ledge is about knowing every rock and root on the point; you could walk it at night, blindfolded.

it's about dirt stuck under your toenails, woodchips in your birkenstocks, dried petals from rose ceremonies past and the sweet smell of citronella and gun powder from the rifle range.

brown ledge is fred and twylla. it's the smile i recognize in maddie's face from her mama. it is eva singing goodnight sweetheart to me as a homesick ten year old, playing duck duck goo-us with samuel swift and dancing to i am a ballerina with rosebud.

it's about watching my beautiful ex-smuggs and ship ahoyians become extraordinary young women.

it's about swinging along the open road under a sky that's clear and hittin' em in the head and sockin' em in the eye, so that our bones will rise again.

it's the best of times when you watch your bunkie get her vanguard, releasing the anxiety of whether you will get yours... because at that moment, she is much more important than you. and it's the worst of times when you sing the goodnight song as a second year jc for the last time at the awards ceremony.

brown ledge is about dancing out the lyrics to your favorite song with your campers in strawberry hut.

brown ledge is about giggles, comfort, happy tears and always some sad ones.

brown ledge is the time marty promised he would shave his head and buy me every flavor of ben and jerry's if all of the theatre jc's got their sailing basics in one day. it was the most illegitimate basic of that summer, but now i know... ready to jib, jib ho!

brown ledge is my love, that is always unconditional.

brown ledge on my finger, every day.

first photo is from brownledge.org... check it out. if you have a daughter, it'll change her life. change. love you.

firsts...

every year, when i was growing up, the first day of school was a big event. what to wear? ride the bike or have mom drive me? would people remember me? (i went through elementary, junior and high school with essentially the same group of people... i may have had a mild case of early onset anxiety, non?). my favorite part, though was standing in the garden in front of my house for the first day of school photo.

we have every single one. from preschool (yes, there were several years there when i really did where a leotard, tights and velcro sneakers every day), to public school, through the uniform years and up through senior year... it's pretty silly. man, all those whacky hairdo's!!!! i definitely had a flock of seagulls-inspired coif for a bit.

the first day of freshman year of high school, i remember, was significantly horrendous. I had just come back from camp, in vermont, as i did every summer. i had had zero contact with anyone from long beach, freshly acne'd skin, a birkenstock tan and truly beyond no fashion sense. to make matters worse, i was coming from a junior high where we wore uniforms. so for three years prior, i was in heaven. the only major decision i had to make was what color tights i was going to wear with my pleated skirt and doc. marten combat boots.... yep, helloooooooo early nineties!

it went something like this: blue o.p. courduroy shorts, white t-shirt with hang loose printed on it, white scrunchy socks and some variation of big skater/surfer sneakers. i was super comfy... long beach is sometimes in the high 90's or low hundies in mid-september, so i'd like to think i was protecting myself from embarrassing pit stains. nah. oh. my. gawd. y'all... my high school was a flippin' fashion show. not as severe as cher and dion in clueless, picture more surf-chic, but jeeze. i. was. wrong. i walked around the whole day trying to hide my feet. the girls were wearing jack purcell's, not simple's. duh. (ever tried to hide your feet during passing period in a school of 4,500 students? not possible, fyi).

when i finally got some fashion sense together, my mom made me close to 10 adorable a-line shift dresses in amazing fabrics. blue gingham, orange and fuschia plaid, turquiose hawaiian print... all of them worn with my white platform jack purcell's. gimme a break, i was still learning. a photo of me in the blue gingham dress sits next to the actual first day of freshman year photo... a do-over of sorts. big red's so indulgent.

anywhoodle, yesterday was my first day at a new job! what what?! same company, new role... a boss lady for a group of people! i know, crazy-town. good news is i didn't break anything, or anyone. my new boss is so great. a year younger than i am with so much energy to make great things happen for our team (do i sound like a corporate monkey yet??? whatevs, i'm geting benefits now!!!! and i like the job, boom!)

i took a piccy for big red and texted it to her, as i did when i entered college, had my first day at my first real job, when i went to grad school, etc... you get the point. we have a pile of firsts now...

here are some things that happened on my first day...

my super civilized breakfast... y'all this is serious! i did not have to wake up at 4am!!!!! i had time to eat, play with xavier and drink copious amounts of coffee!

shake it till you samba... my new gel mani for good luck on your first day positive energy!

what up big red?! she sent me flowers... the card said you go girl! love, big red. see, this shit runs deep, ain't just some behavioral nothings i picked up on the street (well, maybe some of it...)


ok, sweetie peas, i've been missing you. hope the week is the best. keep changing, it's fun. let's all do some digestion pose today (lay on your back with your legs extended up the wall... sitting bones huggin' up on that wall... it'll get you regular). infinite x's and o's.