rainy day behavior...

when i was a little girl, i cried every time i saw a homeless person. it gutted me to my core and i could never understand how that homeless person got to where he/she was. in the third grade i got in trouble at school for "forgetting" my lunch money every day, even though big red never once forgot to pack me a lunch... there was a homeless man living in front of the donut shop on 2nd st and i frequently gave him my lunch. i mean, as far as i could see, he didn't have a mom or dad taking care of him. and at 8 years old, it turned my heart inside out.

the sort of legendary tale from childhood was the day we saw a homeless family standing in the rain on the corner of pacific coast highway and 2nd street. we had just come from seeing a movie, all three of us, so it makes me think it must have been a big holiday, otherwise tonyguest would not be at the movies with us.

i saw the family and burst into tears. here was a family... with a mom and a dad... and a little girl. a little girl like me. with no umbrella. the sky was pouring rain on them with no umbrella. i have some quasi-memories of my mom talking to me about the nature of homelessness. the details seem fuzzy, but i guess i understood that helping could be sporadic, that i didn't have to give my lunch to everyone, or even a dollar to everyone. you sort of have to come to that kind of understanding when you grow up in long beach. oh, but this family. a family! we pulled over and i gave them my umbrella. from behind sun-chapped lips, the mother mouthed the word thank you. and the little girl looked so relieved. the father just closed his eyes.

last night i was talking to big red on the phone and she told me that when she left the market earlier in the evening a man ringing a bell outside the market was standing all alone in the rain, just ringing his bell. when she got to the car, she turned around and went back to give him her umbrella. with wide eyes he asked, really?! my mom just nodded.

then, this is what she said to me:

the world is so full of people, doing what they do. it makes me stop and take a deep breath. we are doing what we think we need to do, what we have to do to make it through the days. no wonder we bump into each other. it's so emotional.

the point? well, reciprocity has always been a personal theme for me... so i'm reinvigorating my intentions. give some and take some. give in order to take and take in order to give. mostly though, give generously.

instagram photos from users: dejiosinulu, mahessu and karyzmahh

you-neek...

i remember the scene so well. tony guest and i were driving down santa ana avenue, only one block from our house when he said it. you're real unique, bean bean. ohhhhhhh, i had a fit. had. a. fit. i crossed my arms tight over my chest, squeezed my eyebrows together real tight and flung my feet up on the dashboard of that big ass navy blue club wagon van. how dare he call me unique, i thought to myself. who the hell is he calling unique?! i'll tell what you are mister meanie-pants... 

wait, what does unique mean?

it was 1987. i was five years old.

i don't remember why he called me unique at that moment. probably, i was recalling (which in my case meant fabricating... i did that a lot back then) some account from the day at montessori school... oh ya, i'm one of those. 

when i was five, i had the most elaborate days of play with my pals. imaginary games, scenarios, characters and specific life events far too provocative and emotionally driven for the average school children. but what the hell did we care? 

often, we'd collect piles and piles of dried up pine needles... the really long ones that were great for practicing your braiding skills. then we'd sit between the bushes and a chain link fence and build walls of pine needles to either side and above us, making a cave. there were plenty of old cigarette butts, so we'd collect those, pretend to smoke them and use them as cash, a form of trading for goods and services, duh. oh, did i forget to mention it was the apocalypse and we were in hiding/protecting ourselves from robots and machines who were at war with our government? yup.

ps... 95% girls. usually the only boy that wanted to play with us was chris burns, bless his heart. we told him if he was going to play our game, he'd have to make babies with all of us so we could start a new world in our cave. he said he'd trade his baby making for five cigarette butts each. seemed reasonable at the time.

hmmm, i guess it's not so unreasonable that tony guest would call me unique. in fact, that was probably the most kind-hearted way to say what he was really thinking! seriously, i love this dad of mine.

here's to keepin' it unique. i think i'll wear stripes, polkadots and plaid today... and probably shout off some (workplace innapropriate) thoughts on gender-norms... all in a good day.

pps... i'm on a management team of six in-house managers. five of us are women. fuck ya. 

love you. 

nightime...

when the stars come out

the world begins

i don't know 

what the stars feel

                            -layla, 1985  

erte found here.