if that's your style...

i don't generally like being told what to do.

i saw a blog post recently that had a title something like this: trends to leave behind in 2012. it was a complete guide on what should absolutely be left behind, under-no-circumstance-should-you-ever-wear-navajo-print-ever-again, especially in 2013 kind of post.

it was endless. and i found myself thinking, shit. i love navajo print. wait.

what?

navajo print?

are you kidding me?

not native american print. not southwestern print. navajo. only one of the 550-ish federally recognized tribes in the united states alone. it is their print? they lay claim to that style of textile? and you did the research to back that up? (my assumption is no. and it is an assumption - something i'm working at not doing anymore - so if you did do the research. i apologize. i think my thoughts are still relevant, though.)

for the record, the navajo nation website does not include a section on its peoples' prints as a staple of culture.

i know, it's not that big of a deal... only it is. in tiny corners of the blog world, bits and pieces of gross generalization are becoming the norm - mainstream. and we tend to make excuses for people all too much. excusing bloggers, writers and reporters who had "good intentions" or "didn't mean it that way."

so. check it. mean it. say what you mean. mean what you say. and think before you hit publish or send.

this blog that i'm referring to, i can't even find it again. i google searched trends to leave behind in 2012, and i got thousands of posts. not the specific one i was looking for, though. so whoever the author of that post is... is probably not making a huge dent in the grande lexicon of it all. hell, neither am i. however, i am thinking. listening. counting on you and me to hold me and this blog accountable. to let me know, respectfully, when i say something asinine or disrespectful.

because really, it's what creates dialogue. it's what we thrive on to continue to learn and to create change and awareness in our techno-centric world in 2013. the human component.

oy. this was supposed to be a post about how i've always loved southwestern print, high-ponytail buns (currently known as the top-knot), bold colors and feather prints/accessories. (all of which i am to leave behind in 2012 to avoid social ridicule and embarrassment. eff that.)

so. hey, fashion blogger i can't find - i'm gonna keep wearing all these faux pas things, as i've always done. i'll just wait until they come back around in another twenty to fifty years - i'll be trendy again then!

please don't tell me what to do, how to think or what to wear. as nene leakes of the real housewives of atlanta once brilliantly and so eloquently said, if that's your style, that's your style.

thanks ne!

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

virtue...

when i was 10, i played virtue, one of reno sweeney's angels in the cole porter musical anything goes. at the time, i hadn't a clue what a virtue was, and no idea how to be one. ha.

these days, patience is the virtue that i struggle with the most. you see, it doesn't come naturally to me. maybe because i am an only child. maybe because i am a leo who has red hair. maybe because i am a peacock. or maybe just because.

though, at work, in my management role, my patience is strong. i was telling jordan some choice stories from my day and he said i don't have enough patience to deal with this shit. you tell me these stories and i just want to shout at everyone. which is probably true, but also loaded. he and i have such different jobs. so when he tells me stories, i have almost the same thought. so it seems plausible that we learn the patience that we need. the patience to get through the necessary and relevant parts of the day.

my growing virtue seems to be the big sister to my listening skills and my ability to react without emotion... i'm almost a real adult, y'all. it's a little bit nuts at times, and i almost don't recognize those parts of myself. the parts of myself that listen to the four agreements. the parts that don't make assumptions and those that allow me to do my best... even in trying and unfamiliar situations.

it seems reasonable that these components of growth will spill-over into my personal life too. and, at times, they do. but, doesn't it seem fair, just a little bit, that there are times i don't want to try so hard at being a good person? times when i can feel the rebellious nature rise...

attention, i'm being impatient! on! purpose! at the end of the day, don't i/we deserve some outright groundless, preposterous, unjustifiable logic to balance out all the good head nodding/tilting with thoughtful mmmm hmmmms and i absolutely validate and honor what you are sayings... sometimes (read: always) i want what i want when i say that i want it. but shit, it's frustrating. because as it turns out, not everyone wants to deal with this behavior from me nor do they move at the pace i want, at all times.

reasonably so.

and even though i know it's totally irrational to have these indulgent and over-reactive moments of losing my shit and being downright bratty... it's as though i need them as reminders. layla, chill out. you can be patient and still be a red-headed, leo-peacock who loves to feel and live passionately. (i mean, i did tell my boss today that i think periods (the punctuation mark, not the moon cycle (though sometimes that too) should be outlawed and we should only use exclamation marks!) (in response to her asking me to re-write something so that it didn't appear quite as emphatic... bleh) but boy, i tell you... it's a balancing act.

i got hit by a car tonight. my physical body. i'm ok. mom, i'm ok... don't worry, i'll call you tomorrow and tell you all about it... but, it was pretty ridiculous. i used my very strong self to block and propel away from the dumb-ass driver hauling ass backwards down 16th street and then shouted many many many profanities. what? i know. i love you. i stole these pictures from jordan.

names...

fyi... jordan and i are notorious for getting ahead of ourselves. always. and regularly. i think it was the first weekend he came to visit and i was driving him to the airport... he said, this was pretty great right? right. we should probably just get married. yep.

......

when i was little i always experimented with writing my name with someone else's last name. ok, with whoever my handsome boy-crush at the moment was... his last name. sometimes a boy from science class and sometimes a celebrity... layla taylor-thomas (remember jtt?!). 

at any rate, a few years ago when i was in a relationship that made me think about our future i realized that i didn't want to change my name. if i got married, i wanted to remain layla guest. and to be honest, i didn't really like my boyfriend's last name. not a very good reason, but it sure did spawn a lot of thought on the whole issue. and thought, of course turns into conversation.

the number of men and women who had emotionally charged reactions to the idea of name change really surprised me. 

-no, i don't want to be labeled as a man's property.

-yes, it's the only way we will feel like a family.

-how about hyphenated last names?

-why doesn't the man change his name?

-yes, it's tradition.

and, of course, there are hundreds of blog posts dedicated to this subject... from hundreds of points of view. and that's the interesting part... point of view.

last night jordan and i were skyping and i asked him how he would feel if i changed my last name to his, allen. he said that would be fine. and when i asked him how he would feel if i didn't change my name he said that would be fine. and then he said something interesting... i would want our children to have my last name.

interesting.

when we talked further he mentioned the desire to carry on his family name. so, i told him i wanted to carry on my family name too, so maybe one child could be allen and one could be guest. he didn't so much love that idea... and well, i was stirring the pot a bit (on purpose, of course).

then i mentioned that i though about the idea of changing my middle name to guest and my last name to allen. he really didn't like that idea, stating that nicole, my middle name, was one that my parents gave me. that it was a first name and i could never get rid of it! which struck me. and, of course, i had to point out... nicole is a name i rarely associate with. i think i only use it when i answer those silly questions about finding your star trek name by adding the first two letters of your first name with the first four letters of your middle name, then multiply it by seven and add the second syllable of your third pet's name but only if that pet lived on the first street you lived on, or whatever. 

but, it's not a problem to just up and get rid of my last name altogether?!

so here's the thing. my parents gave me the name layla guest because they (probably big red more so than tonyguest) thought it would look good written in lights! nicole is more of an afterthought, because, well... i needed a middle name. and the thought of changing my middle name was more significant to dear jordan than changing my last name; the name that i say (yes, guest. like a house guest. or a guest room. no, i'm not asking you to guess my last name...) at least 14 times per day. 

point of view... ours are so different. all the time... but it makes for great conversation.

though, in the end, i think he got my point.

but, i still have no idea whether i will change my name someday. i guest i'll just keep you posted (see what i did there...?!)

image found here.

mexico, mangos, microsleep and mario...

ohmygawd. i just ate the most delicious mango i have ever tasted in my entire life. and let's be clear, i love mangos something fierce.

i'm on vacation.

hannah and i are staying in a condo near the ocean in a town that is roughly 70 kilometers south of cancun on the yucatan peninsula. y'all, this shit is perfect.

we arrived last night and took a cab from the airport in cancun to our place in playa del carmen. our cab driver was falling asleep at the wheel. seriously.

we were driving awfully slow... and before i realized what was happening, i thought, shit... am i going to be on an episode of kidnapped abroad? (i know, i know, i'm sorry. but, i can't lie to you. the thought did cross my mind...) you see, señor taxista woud slow down at the strangest moments (like cars broken down on the side of the road and dimly lit dirt road turn offs), in addition to when he stayed awake long enough to carefully navigate our nine-passenger van over the erratically placed rumble strips, muy bueno, el capitán!

i caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear-view mirror and realized that he was actually taking six-and-a-half second microsleeps! just long enough to lose traction on the gas pedal. great news! we would not be kidnapped... merely whiplashed or minorly concussed if his naps became more frequent... eh.

i also have a new friend. his name is mario. we met at the infiniti pool. he and nineteen of his closest friends are here from mexico city on a bachelor party weekend and invited me to come with him tomorrow on a boat to celebrate mexican independence day! (i politely declined.)

we discovered we both love soccer and he thinks that most things about my life are awesome! i think that's awesome. he also told me that layla is his favorite name in the whole world. and that he's loved every girl he's ever met named layla... well, layla and candace, that is. i laughed very hard and very loud.

i think it's time for a dip in the plunge pool before we head out to find some comida. ¡hasta luego. te amo.

oversleeping...

have you ever walked out of your apartment and down the stairs, with sleep still in your eyes, a ratty top knot on your head and no bra with intentions of a beautiful cup of coffee only to find a homeless man sleeping in your hallway? me too!

ok, but seriously. i live in a building with a secure door. you know, you've got to have key or have someone buzz you in. and i'll tell you, i've locked myself out twice! twice. ugh. i had to jury-rig (remind me to tell you the story of tonyguest telling me it's jury-rig and not jimmy-rig, which i have been saying for approximately 30 years. whoops) a ladder to climb up to my fire escape and break in through the window. not ideal.

at any rate, at 6:58 am, a rather stinky gentleman was 100% inside my securely locked building. it startled me. so, i woke him up and kindly asked him to move along, that this was a private building and he needed to find another bed.

oh, ya ya ya. aight. what time is it? did i oversleep?

did you oversleep?! well, yes! sir. you. did. in my secure building, you overslept on the first floor hallway stinking up the joint. have a great day.

i escorted him out the door, closed it behind me and made my way to peet's for a large coffee (where, btdubs, mac is no longer a morning barista! what?! i know. he moved to south city and the early morning commute is too much. it's awful, though i am coping. everett is taking good care of me... and impressed jordan up the wazoo when we walked in and everett had my coffee waiting for me when we got to the front of the line... oy, too many stories. i'll get organized soon-ish, though and we'll get back on track).

you guys! when i came back to my apartment at 7:07 am, the same stinky gentleman was in my building. again!!!!! can you believe it? this time he was in the hallway on the second floor. my floor. how. did. this. happen?!?!?!?!? i couldn't stand not knowing, so i asked him: how did you get in here?!?!? how did you get back into this building? who let you in? how did you get in here? (i probably shout-asked him, actually.)

sorry lady. have a great day. the door was open. sorry lady. i'm goin'i'm goin.

i mean, what? it is close to impossible to break into my building. both times i did it, i had to wait for one of my neighbors to come home, recognize me and then let me into the alley/trash area where i could scale the darn building to get in. and let me tell you... it took wayyyy longer than 9 minutes to be successful. oh. my. goddess.

there's been lots of gosspin' (that's ricky ricardo speak for gossiping, duh) since it happened. i wrote a kind but firmly worded letter to my neighbors who all responded in disbelief, except for one... hmmmmmmm.

apartment #4 said this has happened before.... that #6 is a whacko and doesn't even have a job. so that should tell you something...

i'll keep you posted.

i'm en route to mexcio. five days of playa fun. i'm planning on doing nothing but drink margaritas, sit by the water, write to you, read and do pilates and yoga with hannah, my cohort. adios. te amo. pictures from ffffound.com.

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).

the northern line...

i fell in love on the train once. it was in london. on the northern line. i never spoke to him, but we stared at each other for a long while. from angel station to waterloo. then i just got up and left. but, i swear, i loved him for about 18 minutes.

there's something so romantic about a train ride... at least in london there was. it was the first time i used public transportation on a regular basis (la baby, remember). everyday i got on the underground and rode from bounds green to king's cross for classes. and at the weekends i would ride down to the south bank... gabriel's wharf, the book market, the tate modern and all of the shops and alleyways that became my 'hood.

perhaps since i've lived in new york and now san francisco, the train riding event has become less eventful and more practical. though... there is still some magic.

ever since i started working on the peninsula, i've been getting in my car and driving. yes, that big ol' hoopty girl of a car and i ride down the 101 everyday. and really, there's no reason i shouldn't be on the train. caltrain, that is... caltrain is its own beast, but one i'd be happy to conquer... if i'd just get moving on it already. jeez. i've just become so comfortable in my car. gross. and embarrassing. spending all that gas money is not sexy. though, i do love that guaranteed alone time. i listen to npr and occasionally try to stay up to date on popular culture (equally as gross and embarrassing).

the thing is... by the time i've rounded the corner from duboce/13th st to s. van ness i'm already shouting shitfuckdamn at some brilliant act of dumbassery. i hate that part.

and muni... ah muni. muni would take me to the train. i hadn't been on muni for a while... but a few weeks ago, i hopped on an m train to get downtown. it was so early. the old man across from me smiled his toothless grin at me and the little asian woman next to me was definitely listening to beyonce. get it gurl.

when a man leaving the train dropped his beanie, half the train leapt up after him... heaven forbid he lose that acrylic blend, machine made piece of textile genius. but after the man and his beanie were reunited, everyone sort of looked around and nodded. very pleased, indeed. go team.

so... i gotta get my butt on the train. walk to muni, muni to caltrain, caltrain to the peninsula, peninsula is work. if i had no other option, though... i'd be a trooper. dang car.

think i can make some pals on the train?

i spy with my little... nose...

you ever get a whiff of something and it sends you somewhere else completely? often, i smell rome in the air. but, perhaps that's just the combination of exhaust and cigarettes on a warm day. today i got a really good one, though. while i was searching for a flip flop in the bowels of my closet. on hands and knees, i smelled heart's bend.

heart's bend was a truly magical place. the first summer camp i went to, '91 and '92. six weeks each glorious summer. no parents. no rules, really. tucked into the back roads of newfane, vermont... a stone's throw from my grammy lou's house over on hill road... you know, just before you reach the old round school house. people in vermont talk that way for real, y'all... old trees as mile markers and old so and so's place as play boundaries. magic.

i'm not sure what, exactly, gave me that swirl of heart's bend, but it triggered so much imagery. my blonde bowl cut (modeled after chyna phillips. you know, from wilson phillips. duh), crabapple trees, a sweat lodge, the well we sourced all of our water from (hence the one shower per week rule... awesome at ages 8 and 9), the tiny pond we took baths in with dr. bronner's castille soap (for those weeks when one shower simply wouldn't do) and our outdoor amphitheatre in the woods. man, shit was amazing there.

it was the first place that i was introduced to music beyond the records of my parents... we would lay in the fields near the leantos for hours... wishing on stars and counting firelies, listening to the soupdragons, the red hot chili peppers, the beastie boys and weird al yankovic... i know.

a few years ago, i reconnected with the camp director. she sold the land not long after my final summer there. we reminisced about the magic. it was a place for everyone. truly. we had representatives from almost every continent. people spoke to each other in two different languages at a time. who knows if we ever actually understood each other, per se... but we communicated. you know?

we ate family style - eating what we grew in our garden. we made epic horror films with the college student counselors. we had camp color wars and peace talks. talent shows. overnight camping trips. joni mitchell sing-a-longs. we fed our farm animals and milked cows. composted. we went cliff jumping at the swim hole called indian love call. endless memories.

but, what i am forever grateful for... for the gift my dad and his family tradition of summer camping gave me... storytelling. every night, every day... we told stories. sometimes one person at a time, other times in groups... contributing as a community. magic. magic. magic. instilling a quality of imagination-promotion that was exactly what i needed as an 8 and 9 year old.

if you have time, read this from vermont woman newspaper. the article, about our camp director, nina meyerhof, speaks to the nature of what heart's bend was. pretty beautiful.

newfane road sign from here. that group photo is from heart's bend... but before my time. i found it here.

best...

yesterday is one for the record books. such a brilliant day. jake and i had a bunch of together time... which can generally make me nervous, but we're pretty good at being friends. probably, i don't have to worry about too much together time.

we met for coffee at philz (duh) and then hit the road for the world savvy challenge. world savvy is an amazing organization promoting students k-12 to become active, educated, participatory and responsible global citizens. read about them, for real.

so jake and i were volunteer judges for the world savvy challenge. we watched performances, looked at exhibits and observed round table discussions about the need for change as it relates to sustainable communities. what what?! ya, junior high and high school students talking about using bamboo as a resource to build houses in haiti, the epidemic of e-waste, water shortages and hunger. the performance that i didn't get to see... which was a major hit... isolationism in north korea! the musical.


i. know.

oh, and... the keynote speaker rapped beef  by boogie down productions. yes. 

yes.

a bunch of my brown ledge crew was there. that's my summer camp world. in fact, the organizer of the even is a brown ledge girl and overall brilliant genius. and jake, who knows very little about camp was thrown right into it. he's a champ, but perhaps a teensy bit overwhelmed by our rapid paced conversations and squeals over memories and summers past.

we took a break from each other, but then reconvened for PINA. you haven't seen it yet? do. it. now. a wim wenders film made with the dancers for the late pina bausch. genius. and in 3-d.

and of course i ran into one of my sarah lawrence dancers in the theatre. ok, not just any sarah lawrence dancer... but the one who danced for me during her entire sarah lawrence tenure. more squealing. more rapid fire talking. this time with wayyyyy more gestures and general wiggling. we talked about dance and movement and training bodies for movement patterns and visceral reactions to movement and how fucking scary that can be.

i have amazing friends. so blessed. so in love with it all.


be kind. i love you. piccys are still coming from ffffound.

mahalo for your patience...

this about to get crazy up in here. i got a million thoughts... so i'm gonna throw 'em out real fast, then i'll tell you abou the real stuff...

1. big red texted me thrice in the last day and a half to make sure i was ok. my last two blog posts were too debbie downer (my words, not hers) for her taste.
2. do you think if i were mormon i'd have a larger readership?
3. my long beach 'tude has been runnin' rampant lately... everything's riling me up, so move with caution, eh? (jt thinks it's pretty entertaining, though).
4. tonight i shouted at some salvadorians who were cat callin' at me... GENTLEMEN! IT IS NOT THE EVENING FOR THIS SHIT! huh? i was tired and bent over the trunk of my car... talking to the 76 station lady about why my tire is crap. it really was not the evening to be whistlin' and ay mami-ing and thumpin' yo boom boom music all up at me. thanks.
5. i definitely had chocolate cake for dinner...
         6. peggy gould (the amazing prof from slc) always suggested using bold, italics, various fonts,and perhaps size to get a reader's attention... is it working?!
7. do you suppose the chocolate cake has kicked in yet?

dollfaces, mahalo for your patience. but for your benefit and mine, i'm going to save my uplifting/non-debbie downer post about iyengar yoga in honolulu changing the lives of me and my favorite wheezie lou (another of big red's nom de plumes) for a day when i'm not having a complete and utter sugar crash! forgive? here are some piccys to tide you over...

alooooooooohaaaaaaaa!

seriously, mahalo for your patience. whoever let me eat chocolate cake for dinner is very silly. i adore you, though.

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. 

request an invitation...

hello sunday. have you heard of cowbird? friends, i think it's going to change my life. read this first (please) and then go to the site... big red shared the article with me, and bless that woman. she sure did make me and knows exactly how to send me. you know?

i am currently in the process of requesting an invitation to join the site. the prompt is this... a bit about you and your stories... i'm having a bit of anxiety about it. because storytelling is so important to me. especially in 2012. the idea of humanizing the web (from the article) is so profound and so poignant. but, i might go as far as to say that we need to humanize humans/human nature/life/our current existence. you know? with everything at our fingertips, at the touch of a button, the click of a mouse, we have lost so much of our ability to connect with other humans.

i remember worrying about this thought the first time i went to the airport and the automated kiosk took the place of the actual human. and at the grocery store's self check-out line. i have trouble with these things. i worry that my someday children will grow up in a world in which it is completely plausible to make it through an entire day without approaching another human. terrifying.

my first memory of being a story teller is from heart's bend, a summer camp i went to in newfane, vermont for two summers... 1991 and 1992. georgia, one of the counselors, and i were on a walk to grout's pond with a small group of campers. i, of course, was whining about the distance of the walk and probably crying a little about missing my mom. she began to tell me a story about a girl with the longest hair she'd ever seen. she wove the story for a few minutes and stopped. ok laylsie, your turn. tell me what happens next. i couldn't believe it. the honor of taking this story wherever i wanted was beyond my comprehension. but, i flew... told my story, and passed it back to her. we continued all the way to grout's pond, and even while we swam... along the walk back to camp, during dinner... and didn't stop until i fell asleep under the lean-to. (we continued that story all summer)

i realize now what georgia gave me. the ability to find safety, solace, joy, comfort and reassurance. not just in from inside my own head, but through an honest and thoughtful interaction with another human being. because telling a story requires that you witness life. that you listen to other humans. respond to them. i love this part. don't you?

maybe it's because 2012 sounds like a fake year to me. or maybe it's because i'm turning 30 this year. or maybe it's just who and how i am... but i'm so... emotional. maybe that's not the best description. but, i feel like i need to hold on to everything that i love so tightly. so that it will never go away.

but, even if it does go away, i'll have a story about it... always.

pics from here and here. i adore you. you are my favorite.