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.