the year of kym

goodbye 2008!

what a crazy year it's been. the greatest lessons that i learned this year were that it's okay to say no and being myself, in full view and honestly, is always the best choice.

the first half of this year was incredibly painful to the heart, no doubt. i had to deal with health issues--something new and terrifying. not just my health issues, there were other family health crisis, and i said goodbye to my grandmother. i also ended a relationship, and for the pain, i am sorry.

but, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, i found strength and rose to spread my wings. (how's that for a grand visual!) i became comfortable in my own skin, embraced being on my own and found a confidence that i'd never known. as the year progressed, i learned to listen to that voice that i'd hushed for so many years and began to heal.

when i faced january 1, 2008, i committed to go on a mission to do what i wanted--just to see what would happen. i explored my photography and my dancing--making huge strides in both. i traveled on my own and took risks that brought me some of the best memories of the year. one of those risks threw a penalty flag at my feet and has had my undivided attention ever since.

so, by my estimation, the year of kym has been a success. the universe threw me some challenges, but the more i trusted my instincts and believed in myself, i was shown opportunities i never expected.

next year, i'm going to focus on giving and dropping some of the cynicism that crept up when i wasn't paying attention by returning to my practice and yoga. i'm looking forward to 2009... may it be all that you desire, too!

saturday...

this might have happened...

i wanted to leave hours ago, but i was successfully distracted with little things that needed to be done. just as i opened my front door and stepped under the awning, the sky unloaded.

i stood there for a moment and considered, then came back, threw open the doors to invite in the storm and turned on the music. i curled up in my deep burgundy chair and tossed a blanket across my legs.

after watching the rain and listening to the thunder creeping up in the distance, i grabbed the photography book that you gave me and found my place.

minutes passed and the rain refused to let up. then a beatles tune started up on the radio and i closed my eyes.

you were standing in front of me playing your guitar and i was suddenly missing you fiercely, but i couldn't help but smile.

when i opened my eyes, there is a sunbeam peeking through the fading rain and i knew that somewhere there was a rainbow.

stuff on a saturday

first... my boyfriend is trapped in a cluster of airline hell trying to get home to canada. the radio keeps blurting alarming warnings about the awful weather in the northeast and amping the headlines on how there is more heading that way. i know that he's fine. i'm sure it sucks, but he's insanely creative and smart. i can't help worrying though and i wish i were there to help...

next on the ramble list... i've been fighting a resilient little bugger of a cold all week. yesterday, the 5th day of this fun, my voice left town and a hideous cough is moving in. i've consumed an olympic-sized vat of tea in response. i've realized and finally admitted to myself that nuking a cup of water just isn't good enough. a proper cup of tea starts with a kettle.

and... it's shameful to me that a man felt he needed to hurl a size 10 insult at the president of my country and how deluded must a man be to insist that a brush is within reach at all times and think it's okay to sell a senate seat.

and lastly... you simply do not know the unintended results of your actions. believe it or not, a gift can reignite someones hope in the human race or show someone that there is someone who listens to them and cares about who they are. though i may not see an instant result... i believe.

distracted during the holidays...

i was out running an errand last night when i got distracted by the christmas lights. i didn't intend to, but somehow, i ended up wandering around webster groves inwardly ooohhhing and aaaahhhing.

it was perfect weather... around fifty and humid--nearly foggy. (foggy weather is the BEST for xmas light viewing, btw.) i had the heat on and the sun roof open and periodically, i could smell a fire... mmmmmm.

as i wove my way through the tight, hidden streets, i was reminded of my visit to nantucket, and for a moment, i could smell the ocean. i pulled over and took a deep breath... smoke and salt... and then it was gone...

i turned on the christmas music and listened as dino sang let it snow and bing dreamed of white christmas...

the lights were beautiful and the moment was wonderfully my own, but it wasn't christmas that i was thinking about.

inpiration in six notes of a memory...

There is no knowing what it will be. I never see it coming, and I don’t know it has happened until the memory washes over me.

It’s that time… that moment… when something is said, sung, implied, yelled… it’s the smell of apple pie in the oven, the roar of the first 6 notes of your song, a favorite painting in that special room at the art museum.

It wraps me in a gust of familiar and reminds me that my destiny is my own. It carries me at 120 down the freeway… waking my dreams and stirring my imagination.

I’ve arrived at the edge of the canyon… where I can see the lights of the world. Where anything is possible.

At its core it is love… It happened that time that you slipped in and touched my soul.

Looking over my shoulder, I hear it calling from all that came before.

Where do we go now?

something to stir you...

"Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend - or a meaningful day." - His Holiness the Dalai Lama

no, sugar, i'm not all right...

I HATE TO HAVE BLOOD DRAWN!!!!!!!!

yes, i'm a big baby and i care not. i have never in my life consciously allowed blood to be removed but once. and that, pals, didn't go very well.

this year, i've made six trips to my local quest diagnostics. i've survived them all without fainting or hurling. everyone has been wonderful... noticing all the telltale signs and being extra quick and kind. thank you, thank you, thank you. i've been thinking about sending them xmas cookies.

then, i got a letter that said, "we've discovered a problem with your vitamin D test that may have caused a problem with your results." WTF? the letter told me to come back, my doctor wanted it rerun and it would be free! FABULOUS.

i signed in 15 minutes early and remarkably was called in 5 minutes later by a very soft spoken phlebotomist. oh, good this is going to be quick! i'd arrived without my usual queasy anxiety. i thought i might have this issue licked.

not so fast there, racer x. my phlebotomist had forgotten her glasses so i helped her with computer work and figuring out how to register my test without registering me. all this with my big smile and understanding. ten minutes passed before we were all ready for the phlebotomist who moves like molasses in february to come take my blood.

i sat in the chair, pushed up my sleeve and explored just how far i could turn my head to find a distraction on a plain gray wall. after that it was torture. it hurt, it hurt, it took FOREVER. i started to see the pretty little stars and broke out in that cold clammy feeling that screams... WE ARE GOING DOWN! oh dear lord, you're still in my vein! this is one test, one vile right? i made peace with the fact that i was losing it. still in my vein, eh? get out, get out! GET OUT!

"i'm sorry that i hurt you." she was out.

i pushed everything away put my head between my legs. breathe. breathe. breathe.

"are you okay?" she said.

i popped my head up and pushed down my sleeve. "sure, i'll be fine. no problem." i said with the biggest grin i could muster. i slinked behind her and told her to have a great day and wished her luck without her glasses.

through the door... out the door. must feel cold air. "excuse me.... yes, yes, thank you.. have a nice day.. merry christmas to you too!"

release... to the car... to the car...

in the car, i screamed... NO, I'M NOT FUCKING OKAY. GO THE FUCK HOME AND GET YOUR FUCKING GLASSES YOU FUCKING IDIOT.

5 minutes later i drove to payless and bought a pair of boots.

now, i'm okay.

Trust me, I've got a plan...

There are certain albums that I’ll play over and over. And there are certain songs that I’ll play 40 times in a row just to hear 7.5 seconds of music or a lyric.

I downloaded Three Days Grace: One-X a few months ago and I’ve developed a love/hate relationship with the song Pain…

Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

This cannot be generating positive energy. But there is something about it that is like a warm blanket on a cold night. As soon as there are black clouds in my life, BHAM, out it comes and up goes the volume, like a driving rain that washes out whatever mess I’ve made.

This life is filled with hurt
When happiness doesn't work
Trust me and take my hand
When the lights go out you will understand

Something in there disturbs me, puts me off. It’s a little angsty and people say it’s not the band's best. That may be true, but it’s like a can of Pringles… I just cannot stop. It reminds me that I’m alive and that I’m glad to have a reason to be sad. There could be nothing.

Anger and agony
Are better than misery
Trust me I've got a plan
When the lights go off you will understand

All I know is that as quick as the need for this song comes, something comes along and lifts it away. It could be as simple as someone goofing off and doing the Thriller dance, or the memory of someone singing Sweet Child o' Mine on a sleepy Sunday morning.

All that is left is light. Go figure.

it happens to everyone...

my crown came off while i was chewing gum and standing amid hundreds of beautiful glass balls in the st louis craft alliance. i've never broken a bone. i've never fainted. i have a very high tolerance for pain. however, i do go nuclear--internally. holding my tooth in my hand, i very calmly turned to the nearest friend and gave my most serious "this is not a joke" look. what followed was me processing the situation and answering questions. no pain. no blood. not the end of the world. but, one's dental work in their palm on a snowy sunday can be... disconcerting... for a first timer. some six hours later, i am amazed that i've held my tongue nearly stationary and out of the way the entire time. i know the value of little lessons like "don't mess with it", "put it back where you got it", and "do it right the first time". the silver lining of this is that my six month check up is scheduled for tomorrow morning at 8:20 am. i don't know what i did right for that to be the case, but i'm crazy grateful.

distance makes the lesson clearer...

The worst thing about Thanksgiving is Friday. I always feel like I need to purge… eliminate the old and prepare for a new world. The problem is that doing that requires me to look at things with the gift of a year’s perspective.

This morning, I faced the file in my email labeled DIVORCE. Gah! I’m terrified that at some point, my ex will come out of the woodwork and attempt to further fleece my already scarred and naked hide. So, with that fear deeply rooted, I may never delete that file.

I’m not sure why, but I did click on one of the last emails. It was one of the few lucid and coherent emails from him. It made me sad. Sad in the way that you pity a child whose dog ran away.

Instead of reading any more, I clicked out and hid the folder as deeply as possible. I renamed it… Lesson Learned.

Happy Thanksgiving...

In the truest American tradition, I’m thinking about what I’m thankful for on this great holiday of bounty.

Let’s assume a few basics first. I’ve still got my job and my health though the year has been bumpy for both. I’m still badly in divorce debt, but hopeful one day Wall Street will get back on the horse and I’ll find a way to start from zero again. I’m thankful for my motley little family, dwindling as it may be.

And I’m truly and phenomenally grateful for my friends.

But, aside from these most obvious positives in my life, what I’m most thankful for are the changes that I’ve bravely made in my life and the smashing results. It’s a beautiful thing to feel in control my life. I’ve learned what it feels like to be a healthy weight, the relief in the ability to say no, and what results when I explore my talents.

One other reason that I’m grateful this year has to do with the international incident that happened this summer.

And to close this note of thanksgiving, I pass the torch… what are you thankful for?

the absence of hope

hope? what is it about that simple seemingly lost, yet potent word? once, a buddhist nun that i greatly respect told me... abandon hope. it seemed so wrong, but it's something to think about.

are the expectations of hope unreasonable? is hope like an addiction that can never be satisfied? is hope necessary to get us up on sad and rainy mornings? what on earth am i really hoping for?

i hear it tapping on my window and i'm remembering that advice...

abandon all hope.

nerves

there have only been a few times in my life when i can honestly say that my palms were sweaty and i felt clammy. right now is one of them.

there are also few times in my life when i have thought something through as thoroughly as this.

there has only been one time when it really mattered and this is it.

sunday morning symphony

It’s been a while since I mentioned my neighbor, but she has never stopped being obnoxious. Though I forgive her a lot, some days it's very hard.

I once mentioned to her that I take off my shoes at the door and it’d be nice if she did too. She gave me the deer in the headlights look. I also told her that dragging her huge dining room table and chairs around at all hours of the night was really disturbing. She replied by saying that she hoped her music wasn’t too loud. Okay, nice chatting.

Instead of waging war, I decided to accept it and try to keep the ruminating to a minimum. But there are days that it’s really hard not plot vandalism. This morning at 5 am I laid in bed listening as she drug her dining room furniture around with real gusto. There is nothing I’d rather do on a Sunday morning.

Let the plotting and ruminating begin.

the truth of many colors

Steel grey clouds early in the morning,
A woman in black walking ahead of you…
Until you say her name.

I pause mid stride on a carpet of leaves
And turn, flashing you a smile
through the streaks of my red hair.

You may see the calm, smooth surface.
The white light of many colors
Peering at you through a prism.

And there is something in the light,
Words I have locked below the surface.
Though you’ve take my hand,
My will demands silence,
Lest I lose the many colors
... again.

coupleathings...

first of all, i don't know if i'm not sleeping well, but i'm tired all the time and the dew ain't cutting it. i'm having unwelcome flashbacks of being a terminally bored teenager though i'm not without a ton of stuff going on--i just NEED something.

secondly... what was second? oh yes. did you see my tweets on twitter followed by my twitpics? i love, absolutely love playing with this stuff, but the lingo/jargon is so much fun that i can barely stand it. i'm so caught up in what's new and shakin' out there that the only things i turn on the tv for anymore are football and charlie rose.

ha! TGIF!!!

Voting Community

i just stood in line for nearly two hours to vote. not only was i able to vote, but the woman behind me happened to be the woman who just moved in to the apartment next to me. i had no idea that she was my new neighbor until a half hour in to chatting. and the woman in front of me lives a block away. this morning, not only did i vote in an historic election, but i made new friends and had lively, honest and eager conversation.

this is a good day to be alive!

Lost and Found...

It’s funny how a simple statement can resonate. Someone made an observation about me practically in passing, but it has been running around my head over and over again. It was not entirely incorrect and not negative.

Am I still trying to find myself? The question alone is exhausting. I’m tired of looking and tired of trying on new hats. I spent a long time wearing hats for others, perhaps that’s why I’m apparently still trying to find myself?

The funny thing about that observation is that I feel like I know more about myself now than ever before. I feel like I have a better grasp, a better understanding. I lack a sense of purpose and a sense of urgency. Maybe that is the giveaway?

I discovered that I don’t want to be thought of that way anymore. More importantly, I don’t feel like it’s a mission that fits anymore.

I want to pick a path and reignite my passion.
I want to make a plan.
I want to lay down roots.

As long as the universe is going to offer me the opportunity… the very least that I can do is meet the challenge in that observation and tell it who I am.

Some days I feel like a nut; most days, I don’t…

Most days in a year I can keep the Oh Woe Is Me Baby locked up. Unfortunately, there are days it escapes and I end up chasing the mental martyr around my grey matter maze.

I used to think this was just the way everyone behaved—PMS, if you will. Then I was diagnosed with PCOS, of which hormonal imbalance is the mother ship issue. Just to add to normal periodically raging hormones.

Holy shit. Shoot me now.

I’m a trooper and a believer in positive, head down, just-do-itness and I’m in no way a worst case or even a bad case scenario. But there are days when the best I can do is cry for three hours and dig into comfort food, which I’m sorry to say, on the worst of days includes Mickey Ds. And I almost always strike out at people I care about which is the most painful part.

Thank the powers of the universe, I have lots of really loud house music to beat it out of me. I’ll keep my mouth shut and tonight, I will dance really, really hard.

And in the battle between my light and dark, I’ll say a little prayer to any ears that are listening that damage control is manageable.

Planning Ahead

as posted on from down here (click title)

Dear Red States:

We’ve decided we’re leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we’re taking the other Blue States with us. In case you aren’t aware, that includes California, Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, and all of the Northeast. It may even include Florida and Ohio — they are seriously considering it. We’ve given them until Nov. 4th to decide. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country. Since we’re dropping the middle states we’re calling it United America, or simply the U.A.

To sum up briefly: You get Texas, Oklahoma, and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches. We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood. You can take Ted Nugent. We’re keeping Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel. You get WorldCom. We get Intel and Microsoft. You get Ole’ Miss. We get Harvard and 85 percent of America’s venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama. We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.

Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than the Christian Coalition’s, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms, and the highest concentration of pregnant unwed teenagers. Please be aware that the U.A. will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we’re going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they’re apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don’t care if you don’t show pictures of their children’s caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, really we do, but we’re not willing to spend our resources in Bush’s Quagmire. We’d rather spend it on taking care of sick people, and educating our children.

With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country’s fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation’s fresh fruit, 95 percent of America’s quality wines, 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias, and condors, all the Ivy League and Seven Sister schools plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT. With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia. We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.

Additionally, 38 percent of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we’re discussing the war, the death penalty or gun laws, 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11, and 61 percent of you crazy Redies believe you are people with higher morals then we Bluies.

Finally, we’re taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.

Peace out,
Blue States
[This letter was received courtesy of my sister and brother-in-law who know a good deal when they spot one.]

Posted by MyEye on Tuesday, October 21st, 2008 at 10:27 pm

If a tree falls in the forest...

I’ve taken up this new thing. I’m hiking. I’m just a novice mucking about on well-marked trails in state parks, but almost without any control, I keep going out there. (click the blog title for some pics.)

Today, I tried something different. I went on a Tuesday in October. It was eerily isolating and somewhat disturbing when the leaf cover on the trail was so thick that I actually lost the trail briefly. I sufficiently freaked myself out. But, I will go back.

Being on my own, calling my own shots without being accountable to anyone… whether real or imagined… is a new thing. And for some reason, I’m expressing my newfound freedom in the state parks. How auspicious that I should go today… it would have been my 7-year wedding anniversary.

There was a time when October 1st hit and I went over the edge. There was Halloween, my anniversary, the cool weather, the leaves, my mom and dads anniversary—and it was one of the busiest times at work! Not enough weekends or plans or hours for errands and tasks! I never felt like I was really enjoying this sacred month.

It is now more than halfway through October, and I have to admit that it has been the most action packed, exciting and delicious one so far. Not only have I done a laundry list of fun and fabulous things, but I’ve done them at my pace either alone or with people I care about and with no self constructed monkey on my back.

I don’t think that I’ve ever been this content—all the way to my bones. Sure, there is this and that I should be doing, sleeping more for one. I have problems, not so small, nagging at me. But, the end total is serenity. I’ve never been so in the present, so relaxed, so clear.

Even when I went into a panic this morning, when I realized that I was utterly alone on the trail, it wasn’t a panic that maintained control. The noise that rose up in my brain quickly subsided and I heard the blue jays and the titmouse.

That was when I knew that it was all going to be okay.

random stuff...

things racing around my head this morning...

john mccain says folks so much i've got a tick.

a women called in to a radio show, said she works for the death star (wal-mart) and that a bunch of people she works with are going to vote for sarah palin cuz she's purdy. that repulses me.

i'm thinking about signing up my cat for radioiodine treatment because i can't afford his damn meds, and i've read that it's a great treatment for hyperthyroidism. but that whole radio active element is a little concerning.

i accidentally became the center of my weight watchers meeting because i achieved a goal and spilled it that i've lost nearly 70 pounds, i'm 5 pounds from my goal and my reward to myself is a stupidly expensive belly dance costume. good gawd, they asked me to wear it for them and dance.

there are entirely too many things on my list to do, and i'm becoming a chronic procrastinator.

i'm looking at the envelope that holds the statement of my pathetic, measly investments and i'm going to file it without opening it.

"they" say the democrats are fighting back, but i haven't heard it and i'd really, really like to.

i'm really miffed that there were rumblings about the AIG junket, but they gave them more and i've not heard any more about getting paid back for that little fiasco.

and now, i desperately need to clean my apartment.

Figure drawing in 10 minutes sketches

from figure drawing--these are a couple 10 minutes sketches of our model, eric, at the end of week seven.

the pretty woman dress...

On June 30, 2006, I blogged that I’d lost 27 pounds and was walking around in some fat girls pants.

Today, October 8, 2008, I’ve lost 65 pounds and changed every single thing in my life twice.

I’m still 7 pounds from my goal. I took nearly a year off, gained 15 back and had to loose it again. But, that’s just the small potatoes.

I still don’t recognize myself walking by a mirror. I still go straight to Lane Bryant in the mall only to feel like a misfit when everything is too big.

I cannot speak for others, but for me, after a lifetime of shopping in the plus sizes, I feel completely lost and obvious in a store where the biggest size is 16. In fact, I look a little like a seven year old in a haunted house… utterly terrified.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy to be here and not complaining. I’m still getting used to the new me.

I have always romanticized the hell out of the movie Pretty Woman. I adore Julia Roberts' character, and well, that is my deep-rooted Cinderella story.

In the movie, Vivian wears a brown and white polka dotted dress that I think is fabulous. (click this blog title to see it.) When I would go shopping, I always looked for a dress like it, but never could find one that fit—you know where this is headed.

A few months ago, I saw this sassy little brown and white polka dotted dress and I got all dreamy. It looked just like the now mythic dress. On a lark, I took it into the dressing room. It didn’t just fit; it fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

I stood in that Macy’s dressing room and I cried.

I didn’t buy the dress. All I needed was that moment. My very own Pretty Woman moment right there in that tiny dressing room.

I learned that day that absolutely anything is possible--including me shopping at Ann Taylor Loft if I feel so inclined.

quote of the day

in regards to Sarah Palin's antics yesterday suggesting Obama is "palling around" with terriorists, Margo Howard said...

"Well, I’ll tell you what I see: a loud-mouth, loose-lipped nobody who is drunk on media attention and a quart low in the judgment department. I think both she and her aged "maverick" buddy owe Mr. Obama an apology for this one."

oh... that made my toes tingle... (click the blog entry title to read the whole beautiful column.)

big week for the female genes...

this year, i've tracked the moments of my life with a library of congress calendar called women who dare.

every sunday, i like to read the schnibbits on women's accomplishments throughout history. they are gentle weekly reminders to me that if i want to make that difference, whether subtle or spectacular, sitting on my laurels will not help me accomplish my dreams.

i thought that this week was worth sharing. many things to contemplate...

this weeks profile was a nice biography of Sally Ride describing her accomplishments as an astronaut, physicist and educator.

and the daily notables with my activities following...

monday... congress passes the equal credit opportunity act, i had belly dance class with an extensive conversation on the origins of the belly dance movement in the US.

tuesday... Angie Dickinson's birthday... figure drawing class.

wednesday... Julie Andrew's birthday... saw Ani DiFranco and thus a girl dream achieved.

thursday... one of my hero's Annie Leibovitz's birthday... Sarah Palin and Joe Biden vp debates (i spent two hours cringing and contemplating the phrase, "you've come a long way, baby").

friday... Emily Post's birthday... i caught up on some sleep.

saturday... Anne Rice's birthday (another of my heroes)... spend the day with one of my best friends and her daughter at mobot, and spent the evening in the company of the most charming and witty man.

sunday... Maya Lin's birthday... my options are open and the page is blank.

upon review, i think it's been a stellar, telling and complex week on the whole.

a backhanded screw...

woohooo! can i have your attention!

i just wanted to let you know that there is only a minimal increase in your benefits costs for 2009... that's right, just 3.8%. isn't that splendid? wow! we rock!

(your cost of living increase for 2009 will be 3%)

the answer is omelets...

have you ever seen runaway bride?

julia roberts' character finally falls for the right guy (richard gere), but ultimately she runs away.

why?

because she doesn't know what kind of eggs she likes.

it's a common problem for women. we sometimes forget who we are, or we never find out. instead we become what we think our boyfriends or husbands want us to be.

some women stop doing things, saying things, dressing certain ways. we tuck our identities away in a spiffy hope chest to pass on to our daughters.

it is much, much easier to pack away dreams than throwing on the brakes and cooking fifteen varieties of eggs.

everyone does not suffer this fate. i bow down and commend their strength and conviction.

but, to those of us who have dropped a few eggs and broken too many hearts, i like omelets. how about you?

finally, a naked man i can live with.

it took a month and nearly two pads of newsprint, but finally, i drew a model to my own satisfaction. oh, i'd make changes and if i had it here right this second with an eraser near by, i'd be busy screwing it up royally.

i've been approaching my lines as if they were law. the first ones were light and unsure. things get darker, but they were still an outline. no depth, no shadows, no fluidity.

tonight, we moved into ten minute poses. the teacher announced that he'd be standing with each of us for a whole pose. i was crushed and horrified. of course, i was second. after getting called out for not knowing the definition of a word, here i was being scrutinized on my timid lines.

"it's utterly unnerving to have you stand behind me," i declared.

bob took my charcoal and said "what am i looking for?"

"angle of the pelvic girdle, shoulder and vertebrae," i muttered. and with that, all hell broke loose. bob's hand circled and hesitated, but never left the paper. in less than five minutes he had created a beautiful sketch with every marker and extraordinary movement.

he turned and said, 'i hope that helps." i stood there with my mouth agape.

for five minutes i traced my fingers along the lines, glancing at the model and returning to the definition and shading. i noted the random lines and studied how his hand had deftly worked inside the figure--a phrase i only just that moment truly understood.

with the next pose, i reminded my hands not to be uptight... to brush the paper without fear. i tried circles and then striking lines. i saw sharp shoulders and improved pelvic markers. but, it was still an outline.

three sketches later, my hands were loose. the crayon was brushing and swishing and striking with strokes that seemed to have no reason. i watched the model's back hunch and his ankles emerge from swift marks. no outline this. there were shadows and there was weight on the inside.

just before the buzzer... "yes! that's better! good!" chirped bob. i caught my breath... by gosh, it was much better.

as i packed up my charcoal, my mates stopped to compliment and i crossed yet another bridge. i finally felt like i belonged among them; not a poser or an interloper, but a real student.

i have a long way to go, but at least i have finally found the road.

Avon calling...

ladies and gentleman... the quote of the day...

"I'd buy Avon from her, but I am not going to vote for her."

oh... i live for moments like that... thank you caller on Talk of the Nation.

bride to nowhere...

Marlene Davis, from the Lexington Herald Leader, wrote a column about referring to Bristol's boyfriend, Levi, as her fiance'. (click the title of this blog for the article.)

we can certainly speculate on what the real feelings are between bristol and levi and the couple and sarah palin, but it is only speculation. we may not have an answer until palin is out of the national light, whether that is two months, four years, or eight--if we ever learn at all.

i will say that i agree with davis about not labeling them engaged. all i have is my perspective and personal history; anyone who knows me would agree that i could never be called a commitment phobe having been engaged four times. i found myself nodding in agreement with many of her points.

in all honesty, i admit that i have great sympathy for bristol palin. i have never been pregnant, but i have been in places that scared the hell out of me, and i have followed through on commitments that i should have broken.

my only concern is that she may feel alone. i hope that she truly does have the support she needs, and not just support, but understanding.

my lipstick rant...

and we're off...

palin introduced the lipstick and now i'm hearing rumblings about people using it as a poking stick. of course they are.

i heard russ carnahan take a shot yesterday, “there’s no way you can dress up that record, even with a lot of lipstick.”

and obama got in his two cents, "you can put lipstick on a pig," he said, "it's still a pig."

there is debate... are they talking about palin? mccain? government on the whole?

and now there's a republican cry for an apology to palin?

oh, for the love of pete.

palin's surely wearing her flats and ready to rumble. personally, i think she's an inept, pompous little twit, but i'm certain she can handle the lipstick slam dance.

regardless, we may want to pay more attention to what this little girl from alaska may have up her sleeve. she's leading the farthest right into the light and the boys are taking pot shots covered in fire engine red loreal?

stay sharp, people. this glacier bay water shrew ain't no lady.

careful what you ask for... you could end up doing the dog paddle

I made a list. I thought about it for a very long time and I decided that this list was indeed just what I wanted.

After mastering painful relationships, failing to meet goals and being gracious beyond my means, I turned on my heels and went the other direction. I could be specific, but that would be rude to a lot of people. However, my list, in most cases, is the antithesis of what I’ve known all my life and instead demands what I’ve dreamed about.

After a ceremonial scripting in blood followed by dedicated celibacy for focus, the universe is answering some of these wishes and I’m finding that none of my previously honed skills work here.

Holy shit. I’m doing the dog paddle in the Baltic Sea.

I’m spending a lot of time debating myself at three in the morning. Suddenly, I’m split into two different people. There is sixteen year-old me ready to cut bait and get back to the safety of land rather than feel more disappointment. And then, there is grown up me who spends a lot of time reassuring and scolding.

HELLO! Paddling here!

In an odd way, I’m more me than ever. These two nuts that inhabit my mind are learning to work together and sharing insights. I’ve reawakened the passions—the floodgates have opened and emotions are back. But, I have experience now, and I know the value of staying the course… And, I know that no matter what happens, I’m okay.

Still paddling!

Yeah, I know. We’re still in unfamiliar territory. But, this is what I want and I wouldn’t change a thing on that list for the safety it might give. I’ll just keep paddling till I see land. Hell, along the way, I may just become the Michael Phelps of the dog paddle… who knows!

gifts we give ourselves...

Not so long ago I was thinking that it was a shame I no longer looked forward. That I didn’t experience that feeling I used to get before Christmas. I didn’t even really know what I missed, but instead had some vague recollection of a feeling. The fire of anticipation was missing.

What happened to desire? Longing? As I grew up, everything was within reach and anticipation was no longer an obstacle. When did anticipation become an obstacle? When did goals become mere trinkets?

Recently that feeling returned. It snuck in ever so quietly and without announcing itself. But, just now, it wrapped itself around me, brushed away the cobwebs and made itself at home.

I’d forgotten what it feels like to want something so badly it physically hurts. To want it, but to respect it—a respect so deep I am willing to test myself, restrain myself, cultivate a patience and trust that were oddly familiar as a child, but foreign as an adult.

And I will do this because I know without the slightest doubt that I am facing something that I will never have words to describe. I trust it because it is instinct and pure instinct supersedes the logic that has bogged me down.

I trust it because I know that this… this is the gift in the beautiful box under the tree that I will lose myself to—the one thing I have never named.

did i already take this?

I accidentally took a double dose of cold medicine this morning. Then I failed to eat breakfast and had eight cups of coffee before 10 am.

It’s now five in the afternoon. I’ve had a few pretzels, a lot water and I’m considering a mountain dew. I’m leaving shortly for my figure drawing class and worried i'll crash mid class.

I’ve been ridiculously productive all day and managed to run around the building eight times. I haven’t felt like this since high school when we used to take stupid quantities of vivarin—when I worked four part-time jobs and still made the honor roll.

Apparently, another side effect is that I can listen to Three Days Grace’s One-X for seven hours straight at ridiculous decibels.

BUT... I haven't had a sniffle or an ache or a headache or any such thing resembling a cold symptom all day.

When I finally go down tonight, it’s going to be the thud heard around the world.

i don't want to do this, but...

ms. palin, i'm not your biggest fan.

i like that you're a woman and that you're in the potential vp seat. you had a great fluidity to your speech, and i even laughed. but, girl, you grate on my last nerve and your voice is like nails on a chalkboard.

great performance, but i knew in the end that i wouldn't vote for you if you held a gun to my head.

seven years ago today...

seven years ago today, i said i love you to my dad for the last time. i told him not to be scared, that everything would be okay.

just the day before i'd been laid off and in just two weeks the twin towers would come down. i like to think my dad died that day in order to be where he needed to in order to help all the lost people coming from new york, the pentagon and pennsylvania.

nonetheless, i mark this day by remembering how awesome my dad was... and how incredibly horrendous lung cancer is. i think it's important to remember the fabulousness of my dad, but i can't forget his achilles heel. after all, i had only beaten smoking one year before he died.

most important on this day... is remembering his smile and the twinkle in his eye when he was chasing me around the house with a frozen trout or pulling me up on my head by my ankles or teasing me about eating brain sandwiches or making me kitty cocktails or... so many things.

and i tell the people i care about that they are incredible, wonderful people. i never told dad that enough.

What happens when you try to tame a wild horse...

Sometimes I forget myself and fall off the horse. So after a bit of berating myself, I look up at my proverbial steed, dust myself off and clamor back on.

There is a ritual.

Pull together an outfit that says I’m my own wench with my own beat.
Open the sunroof and drive the steed fast down the highway.
Select the mantra song of the day and sing it like you mean it.

On the wind today with a little extra sass… Jess Klein… Sink my teeth in…

By the time I get to work, the urge to run has subsided and I've regained control of the reigns.

Whew, that was a close one.

My life before you meant nothing…

I have to say that I’m ridiculously lucky to have such fabulous dancers influence my life in so many ways.

Today, another muse entered my life. I took a workshop with Nissa, a St. Louis teacher that I’ve been a little intimidated by for some time. I’ve seen her dance, and she is impressive.

I didn’t realize that as a teacher her sheer level of enthusiasm for the dance would tap into and sync with my own. Today’s workshop was about layering, but I learned more about the instruments and moods of the music. As if I’d forgotten the most important part, something clicked today.

At one point, Nissa was talking about a song in which the singer’s lyrics basically said that she has met the man of her dreams and all of her life before now meant nothing. I immediately thought, oh that’s sweet. But, I would be wrong! There is a real sadness in the song about the wasted time before. And yes, this… I understand.

In one moment an entire dance had a whole new context, and I understood Nissa’s earlier comments about completing the dance by understanding what the singer is saying in the music. Now, I suddenly had empathy with the song and danced it understanding the sense of regret. I'm adamant about lyrics in all other music... for me it's the most important part! why not middle eastern lyrics?

Nissa’s workshop, followed by a fabulous performance by Belly Dance Mirage at the International Festival, made for one more incredible day full of dancing, joy and new friendships.

My life changed the day I walked into my first dance class. I only wish it had happened sooner.

killing crabs and hip checks

I started the day a little edgy. Killing crabs and second guessing myself. Finally, I threw open the doors swept out the regrets and went boldly forth.

And here’s a ticket for not having a current license plate. I love Maplewood, but they are picking at my carcass five dollars at a time, and they are relentless. Too far from the curb, too close to the curb… the current plate is on the front, but not the back because I can’t get the damn thing off! So much for the good attitude.

Now I’m frustrated and second guessing again.

Just as I got to the highway I saw this adorable older man take a step back and make a chivalrous bow to a pretty jogger crossing the bridge. In an instant, my whole day changed and I'm reminescing about the night before...

Life is full of hip checks, but not every one sends you into the boards.

Vintage Penguin and Pelican Books

i always like to take note when my first love joins forces with my second. i used to have a ton of these books, and i still love sticking my nose in them for a super sniff... yes, i know, my designer friends are making faces. (it's all about the fresh printed materials with them.) nonetheless... i found a little inspiration in the color palettes today. happy girl!

(click the title!)

ChiCago

Train to Chicago

Tornado sirens
Say I can’t board
One... now two hours late
Milk duds and whoppers
With a four dollar beer.
Storms fill the spaces
Between forgotten places.
Towns built around bars
Called the Track Shack
Springfield at twilight
Where the sun goes to die.


I took this absolutely awesome whirlwind trip to Chi-Town in June. Click the title to get the first day of pics...

a little help from a friend...

i'm admittedly a bit of a granola cruncher. my idea of fighting off illness starts with 6,0000mgs of vitamin C followed by the barrage of silver and goldenseal and just plain sweating it out. but, sometimes, you need a little extra help. "it's viral, you don't need antibiotics." i heard that a few times. so, i did some sweet talking. this morning was the first in ten days that i woke up and didn't need extra strength tylenol just to hit the shower. i feel freaking spectacular! ahhh yes, sometimes you need the navy seal biotics to help get the job done!

the girl is back...

A mantra clears the clutter,
A song focuses the mind,
A powerful thought emerges.

Holding the reigns of my destiny,
I stand before you naked and humble.


this is the result of waiting in the doctors office for two bloody hours!

somehow, it seems a fitting post upon my return...

much has changed... to pay homage to some of that, i've posted all my myspace blogs here for those of you wayward souls who are curious.

new girl... new day... let's do this!

still waters run shallow...

occasionally i wake up in the middle of the night underwater and in the dark. random thoughts on rapid fire and my wings are aching to spread wide. heavy weights of expectation and unreasonable goals attack the seedlings of self expression. i am lost in the wonder of our existence and amazed by our reactions to each other.

then i trip upon music and a song will capture and cradle my fears. it is then that i am reminded of the beauty of my life.

i'd like to introduce you to an old friend...

Supertramp – Lord Is It Mine

I know that there's a reason why I need to be alone
You show me there's a silent place that I can call my own
Is it mine, Oh! Lord is it mine?

You know I get so weary from the battles in this life
and as many times it seems that you're the only hope in sight
Is it mine, Oh! Lord is it mine?

When everything's dark and nothing seems right,
there's nothing to win, and there's no need to fight

I never cease to wonder at the cruelty of this land
but it seems a time of sadness is a time to understand
Is it mine, Oh! Lord is it mine?

When everything's dark and nothing seems right,
You don't have to win, and there's no need to fight

If only I could find a way
to feel your sweetness through the day
The love that shines around me could be mine.
So give us an answer, won't you,
We know what we have to do,
There must be a thousand voices trying to get through.

open your book to chapter nine

We're going deep boys and girls, so grab your gear.

I can feel myself reaching for the analogy-metaphor-hyper-drive, but I'll try to keep it to the straight and narrow.

As we know, I have a stupid range of interests. I'm a girl with a bucket list that includes storm chasing, racing open wheel, and swimming in a cage up close and personal with a great white. Probably, the great white is the one I want and am most terrified of at the same time—so you know I do have a tiny bit of common sense.

But as usual, I digress. The point is that I've dabbled in radio, the hotel industry, private investigations, advertising, feature writing, graphic design, directory publishing, billing, and collegiate and government administration. I'm also on the cusp of professional photography. And fortunately for anyone I work for, I can be the best damn Girl Friday you'll ever meet.

If you get me on the spot and ask me to blurt out what I want—I want to be a travel writer. I also want to stay in school. I miss English lit. I want to be able to travel and paint and do photography and of course, dance.

I do not like cubical land and I do not like giant bureaucracies. I could freelance; I have the discipline. Hell, sometimes I have enough discipline for you, too. I don't like being without insurance and I do like being around other people. I miss putting my face in a book. And I miss writing features.

I get a crazy warm and fuzzy feeling that sends me over the moon when school starts. My happiest moments have been spent in a group discussion of literary characters. One of the most profound experiences of my life was going to England and Ireland to stand and face the places I've studied and see the monuments of my dreams.

I love the north. I crave returning to Nantucket and there is still Bangor and Halifax on my list of dream destinations. Not to mention that voice in my head calling me back to London.

I do love my art classes and there is still much that I want to learn. I still want to take that damn art history class. It always goes back to school with me.

So… why not teach? I get all goose bumpy at the prospect of teaching high school or better yet college lit classes.

Yeah, I'm a freak.

So, I've got the paperwork for a Masters of Arts in English in front of me. I may be late to the party, but I always show up fashionably late anyway.

The questions is: Will I swim with the shark before or after I complete the program?

holly golightly

some mornings are just holly golightly mornings. i don't need the glasses for the world to be rose coloured, and there are six inches of cushy air between my toes and the floor. me and cat had a nice decadent morning stretched out in the sun with not a care in the world.

"Did I tell you how divinely and utterly happy I am?"

journalists on journalism

Many of you know how I feel about local news. For those of you who do not, I can't stand it. The only value I find in the local new is the weather guess and sports. I can check all the weather maps in the universe online (and i do), so beyond football season, the local news can take an extended vacation for all i care.

If you want to pull my chain, make me watch local news during sweeps. Baby in the dumpster news that never reports. I'm never satisfied with the story and spend a lot of time yelling about the people they choose to interview in a crisis and the ridiculous questions that they ask.

My feelings about the network aren't far off. Stunning sets, ideal appearances, drama, drama, drama. My life is dramatic enough, i don't need encouragement from Katie. And let's just thwap CNN in the head and get on with it.

So, imagine my delight and vigorous head nodding as i read the attached article. In fact, I highly recommend taking a gander at the attached article.

I only have one question. What are we going to do now that we know what isn't working for us?

warning! tmi!

Before you even start, know that this is from my point of view. This is not the case for every girl and it may indeed be more than you really want to know. Clear? Good.

Belly dancing just turned sexy. Yeah, yeah, I know. Alert the presses, slowpoke finally got on the bus. But wait. There is a reason for my recent discovery. Just hear me out.

I know what it means to dance sexy. In my twenties, every single night of the week ended with me dancing at the OZ or Pop's on the east side. Go ahead, gasp and get over it.

After work, at whatever hour, I'd put on some slinky clothes and hit the closest club. I'd dance till they turned out the lights and then I'd head for the east side and dance until seven in the morning. And yes, sometimes, I'd even dance in the cage at the OZ, if I was feeling particularly sexy, sweaty, and sassy. Some of you remember that, I know.

Anyway, the point was… dancing sexy. Out on the dance floor it was easy to see the audience was loaded with a variety of the men folk. It didn't matter to me if I was seeing someone or not. It didn't matter if I caught one of those fish or not. The point was that I was dancing and the fact that the guys were enjoying it, which you know they were, was just like whipped cream and a cherry on your sundae—just a little extra sugar.

But that's what makes a sundae a sundae, now isn't it? Otherwise you might as well hit the floor with your aerobics routine. It's all about peering out of the corner of your eye and spying some sharp looking man appreciating your moves. Hopefully, he's still sober enough to distinguish the boys from the girls, but I think we know what I'm talking about.

So, what exactly has this got to do with belly dancing? Nothing and quite a bit. I don't dance for men. I dance for myself. I love it and it makes me happy. For six years, that's all that I've needed. And I never knew anything different.

I've been in two relationships while I've been dancing. The first was quite cold fish about it. He was happy I was doing what I loved, thought I looked good, and was happy to support me. Did he ever tell me I looked sexy or ask me to dance for him? Nope. Not a mention.

The second relationship was strung too tight. I was doing something that made me happy, but he strongly disagreed with the possibility that I would dance in public and would have preferred I dress in a guinea sack to even a beledi dress. That was particularly hard because it felt like I was sneaking away to commit the evil deed.

So, I've been dancing for a while sans men and happy to go forth and shimmy. I've declared myself the giddy dancer and laughed uncontrollably when I was called on to dance sultry, or mysterious, or with nothing more than a straight face. It just isn't about dancing sexy, like when I was at the clubs.

Sometimes, when I'm trying to get a particularly slinky move, one of the other girls will say, "just imagine that you're dancing for your boyfriend." A statement that immediately causes me to burst into laughter. With my history? Are you for real?

BUT, I've met someone that has shifted my perspective. I don't know that he'll like that I'm dancing, that he will even like my dancing. This is so fresh, so new… there is no telling. However, there has been a shift in the force, Luke.

Tonight, I was working on a move and it just didn't have that umph I was looking for. Then, out of nowhere came the thought. "what if I were going to do this for (insert name)." And wham! I don't think I ever saw my body move that way intentionally.

Now, I've gone in to the studio, looked at myself in the mirror and thought, "Damn girl, that is one fine undulation you got there." But, this? This was completely different. This was taking it over the top and making it gooooood.

Let's be clear... I am stil not belly dancing for a man. So don't go wagging your finger at me. Because if you know me, you know that one of my primary points about the dance is that it's for the women. Men are an afterthought. Sorry guys.

But, maybe there is something to thinking about dancing for a man. Maybe now, I might be able to actually pull of thirty seconds of sultry before I burst into giggles. Who knows about tomorrow? But I do know that the next time I want to pull off that move, I'm not going to blow it off. I'm going to remember tonight and I'm going to remember that feeling. And I'm going to dance sexy.

Rodrigo y Gabriela

i'm simply smitten with these two!!
(click the title)

oblivious

okay, i heard it on the radio, but only half listened. i was only half awake. i'd stayed up too late and was running too late to make coffee. whatever it was, didn't sound like it would block my path so i blew off the rest of the info. i did, however, think there was an awful lot of helicopter action around my apartment. oh well, happy monday.

i got to work and one of my friends called me wondering how i got to work and what i'd seen. huh?

turns out i live around the corner and just beyond the zone of evacuation from todays maplewood disaster.

on my way home, i drove behind the filming news crews and marveled at how making a right instead of left at one corner can really change your day.

dixie chicks?

i forgot how good it feels to listen to the dixie chicks.

sometimes when work turns into an uncontrollable ogre, i like to put in the earbuds and jack up the volume. i treasure the ability to use music to turn a frown upside down.

it makes me feel hidden in a land of cubicles. while another department is having an impromptu karaoke session, i have a blessed escape.

and oh, how empowered i feel after a little dose of good bye earl. gawd love em, the chicks really know how to make you tap into that diva in control that's buried under too many email requests and people hoovering over your shoulder.

how about some black-eyed peas, earl?

coming home?

i call it home, but i'm not so sure it is anymore.

i'm at a point in my life where i can make changes. the planets are aligned and i'm primed to jump. i just need to decide what changes i want to make and what degree of difficulty to make the dive.

standing on the high dive, i've been bouncing on the edge too long. no, i'm not afraid to jump. i just can't decide which dive to make. i can make a dive i know well, or i can be bold and do something different.

this is an awesome place to be and i'm not knocking it by any means. i've worked very hard to get here and struggled with demons both real and imagined. now, it's just a matter of inviting my intuition to join me on the platform for a little synchronized diving. it's time to reach inside and find out what i want--or what i might want.

what dive to make?

funny little friendship necklaces

you know those little heart shaped necklaces? the ones that are cut into two pieces for "best friends"?

i always thought those were incredibly cheesy. until about an hour ago.

i guess i never really gathered the full value of friendship until the beginning of my 40th year, and tonight, it finally clicked into place--the understanding of unconditional friendships.

i know that i have friends i can count on, but i'd never really tested that. however, this past year and a half i have called in favors and leaned on shoulders. i've taken my troubles and tossed them to the floor like pieces of a puzzle i could not sort. i have felt the pressure ease as others helped me define the borders and sort through the pieces.

i've learned a valuable lesson, that friendship is more than birthday cards and saying you'll be there if they need you. to truly flex the friendship muscle and make it buff, when things go to hell, you have to know you can't do it alone. you must take them up on that offer of help.

when that happens, something beautiful emerges. you become one in a way that only people who wear the jagged heart necklaces can. all the pieces fall together and there is peace, serenity--a silent understanding of who you are and a joy in not only knowing, but being.

and there is comfort in knowing that you are not alone, that there others wearing jagged little heart necklaces--others who in some way complete you.

these hips were made for salsa!

this was certainly the best workshop i've ever been to.

first thing this morning we did a bit of cha-cha--i had to warm up to it. without coffee, that footwork was a little tough. by the time we tried mombo i was totally awake and digging it. i got a little carried away--having way too much fun! but the salsa. that was a surprise. we spent a lot of time learning a choreography and i found a natural grove in the rhythm.

the funny thing is that i actually considered blowing off this session of the workshop. what was i thinking!?! when i get home, i think i'm going to explore more salsa... so watch out ladies and gentleman...

the second half of the workshop was scarier than any other part--even trying to learn the choreography. the second part was on facial expressions mostly--we did a variety of exercises to help us convey a "mood". since i'm the happy dancer, i had real challenges with things like sultry and mysterious. i just had could hardly control the giggly button. in the end, it was a pivotal part of the experience. i think i learned a lot.

now, i'm hanging with my buddies d and craig--the coolest couple in the whole world. we went out for dinner and had the best time. it's so nice to be in their company again. i've missed these guys!

workshop and gala show

i have to admit that i have a girl crush. bozenka is the venus de milo of belly dance. soft spoken, kind, patient, polished, graceful, accomplished in a variety of dance styles... not to mention captivating to watch and incredibly beautiful.

definitely a girl crush.

the first half of the workshop was difficult, but in a sneaky way. we were half way through the first combination before i realized how hard i was working. there are mostly professional/teacher dancers in this group and she's teaching that way. but bozenka knows just how to make it feel easy even when tripping over your feet and drenched in sweat. you just don't want to let this woman down.

we learned a terrific extended combination and spent a lot of time on technique and polish--the sort of thing you don't get beginner classes. it was extremely helpful.

emily and i saw a tad bid of charlette when we set out on our safari to find lunch. oh we walked a lot. places were NOT open and as it turns out, charlotte is not really a pedestrian friendly place. such a shme.

but the show.. oh fantastic and bozenka danced twice. we sat behind her husband, who turns out be really, really swet. he's a musician and really an easy going guy. bozenka was so funny--she was all nervous about him being in the audience. so cute, eight years they've been togther

well, more workshop tomorrow and d's coming to get me... ahhhh the relaxing!

houston, it's a go!

yawnnn

i'm exhausted, but wired. less than four hours sleep for 3 nights in a row followed by a 13 hour drive should leave me a zombie.

mmm brains....

trip good. we left town under a rainbow at 7 am. emily is a trouper and a fantastic travel partner. she came with dead on directions and a smile on her face.

we got into town about 10 and let me tell you, charlotte has a beautiful skyline. we are at the crowne plaza (thanks to the entertainment card) and we are loving the plush beds, carpeting and towels. the bathroom is as big as the room missy and i had in chicago.

we are both a little nervous and really excited about the workshop. bozenka is awesome (check her out in my friends). we both want to do really well. we're right across the street from the workshop, so we're going to get to sleep in.

peace....

brutus? your roots are showing

i haven't tried it, but i've known about it for quite a while. i work in an office of 11 very frank and feisty women.

as a faux-signer and faux-writer, i like to keep up on the trends. i was tickled today to spy this article on my colour lovers rss.

this ladies, and gentleman, is a link about a little something to make the carpet match the drapes...

do not look at this at work. :)
(click the title)

coming out on the other side...

There is a strange peace in my mind.

I went to the pool this afternoon and it was different. Nothing had changed, but I am different. When I emerged from the water, I felt taller. I felt confident. I caught someone's eye and I smiled. But, it wasn't the same.

I walked to the grocery store tonight and it was different. Nothing had changed, but I am different. I walked through the heat and humidity, but couldn't define the boundary between my skin and the atmosphere. My grocery bags felt like bags of feathers.

My world is a hectic one and it is about to become more complicated. Nothing has changed, but I am different. I made my list for the week without angst, without panic. I will face what comes as it comes.

Something was mended today. Deep in the workings of my mind, my heart, my soul there was pain, like the pain of a broken bone that has not been set. When I wasn't paying attention, the pain was yanked away. And the healing is happening very quickly.

I had no idea that I had been holding on to that pain so tightly. I could have let go a long time ago. Should have. But, did not.

I'm talking to you, like I do all the time. Nothing has changed, but I am different.

I am no longer sad.

passing thought

heat... brilliant sun... stress... alcohol... explosions... red glows in the sky... surprising rapid pops...

for me it's the fourth of july.

what is it for a veteran?

looking south

I work in a corporate mouse maze. Five buildings, one two story, all attached by windowed corridors. I don't know whose genius idea or what ridiculous study was consulted, but everything is grey—cubes, walls, carpet. But there is a quad with a little fountain. And my secret spot.

Every day at 10 and 2, I leap from my chair and walk at a break neck clip through all five buildings and the quad. It's my way of rejuvenating. Not just the walk but the interaction. I get to smile at people who only know me as the girl who runs through the halls. I feel lucky that most people I see respond with such warm hellos and smiles.

Some days I need an extra walk. Like today. I'm nervous and excited and freaked out and scared and thrilled. And there are fantastic clouds putting on a show in my secret spot.

On the second floor there is a giant window that spans the whole south side of the building. It's right above the receptionist and it's an atrium so the light is always stunning. There is a half wall banister that hides two forgotten comfy chairs. When you drop into them, you're facing the south and the spectacle of sky—AND no one can see you. You are completely hidden.

When I need a moment, I run the building and drop into one of those chairs and watch the south sky. On days like today, it's not just a spot for me to gather my thoughts, but the atmosphere is so incredibly complicated and active you just can't look away. It's a wonderful place for daydreams and today, my imagination is joining the sky in its tumultuous display.

the hourglass

I ponder the people
in the afternoon frenzy,
they dash down the sidewalk-
bumping into each other,
too much in a hurry
to murmur polite pardons.
Sensing the grains of the hourglass,
they quicken their pace,
while the rush of their blood
hastens as deadlines grow closer.
But what will they feel
when the realization strikes
that these grains,
that are finite and precious,
are few?
What of the deadlines,
so faithfully kept,
when there will be
no more giddy children to delight in,
no more passionate embraces,
no spring picnics to share with a friend,
no more Sunday afternoons graced by
windchimes and hummingbirds?
What of these deadlines then?
The sand flows
unheeded by regrets.
What more is a lifetime
than a minute too short?

come and knock on our door...

i've always been a real live and let live girl. if it weren't for extremes, how would we know where the middle lies?

and sometimes, you meet people or are thrown into situations with people who drive you up the bloody wall. for this period of my life it's my neighbor. we all know the saga of the crazy lady.

you remember three's company? ahhhh hhhaaaa.

my beloved neighbor is a 50 plus Christmas (Chrissy) Snow. she, predicts world politics with astrology and chooses her underwear based on her tea leaves. her most obvious attribute is the high-pitched laughter that resembles crashing crystal reverberating through a back alley. her biggest accomplishment is her ability to pull her foot over her head and drag her dining room table across the room at 5:45 am.

when she talks to you, she presses her hands together and persistently responds by bobbing and saying namaste. in fact, she's highy reminiscent of the old bobbing birds that sat in the back of a car window dropping endlessly over into the water and bouncing up as if surprised. drinking bird

strangely, after a conversation with her, i sort of want to be a conservative bruiser. she makes me want to hide my recycling lest we have one more thing in common.

lamps to live with...

one of my interests is interior design. if i could shop all day and night to decorate your house, i would. i'd happily go without food or sleep, well at least without sleep, in order set you up within your budget.

i enjoy rolling in fabric and ahhing and ohhing over paint swatches and furniture. and good grief, don't even take me near the rugs. i'm a little more like a five year old in a candy store than a suave, chic decorator. i run with more bohemian sorts who love me even if i take off my shoes to swish around on the tripple shag carpet.

i like moving, just because i like to nest. i have seasonal boxes that help me keep from spending too much and i have sketches of possible floor plans, which in a studio is limited.

anyway. someone told me that they work in this store. and i looked up this store cuz i was curious. and my pulse quickened and i broke out into a light sweat. ohhhh ahhhh the pretties. and then i saw them... lamps. and i remembered these.

there is a nifty little store in savannah called the paris market. they have FANTASTIC things. i bought my way over-priced, but stunning umbrella there.... but they have these lamps. one day, i will go back to savannah, have a cup of tea at the gryphon tea room and then i will buy these lamps and come home. it will be very satisfying.

click the post title... (gotta work this out.)

i must have done something really awful in my past life

Periodically, Karma likes to knock on my door and remind me of the impermanent nature of all things.

But, sometimes it comes with a simultaneous lesson of Karma that you just can't get past and permanence seems to be its only quality.

Let me clarify.

Impermanence. I've grown to fancy myself a bit of a photographer. But, just the other day, the cleaning Nazi in me kicked in. I decided to get rid of some duplicate photos because I keep finding that iPhoto has duplicate files EVERYWHERE!

I had over 30 gigs in photos and I decided it was time to get the ducks in a row. What I learned was that it does matter which file you try to trash. I lost a good 6,000 photos and my iPhoto is now moving like molasses in February.

Impermanence. Learn to let go of the photos, kid. I know this logically, and yes, I'm feeling the pangs of some loss. But, all in all, it was a lesson learned and I'm quick to get to the clean up stage.

Now the other lesson is more difficult. The other lesson is the monkey on my back. This is rooted worse than a field of dandelions and its only gift is shame.

In this case, Karma has a lovely and ever so delicate way of padding up behind me and whacking me over the head with a cast iron reminder that I cannot leave this behind.

And this is the Karma I hate. Everything that I have ever gained in my life, I would give up to be rid of this.

One day, it may win. And that is my fear.

it gonna take me and you to start this revolution

It's just me, your neighbor. I'm the girl next to you in line at the grocery store. Someone who puts her pants on one leg at a time. Not too much to look at, not a scientific genius or literary laureate. Came from nothing and hoping to be something.

I'm carpooling with my buddy and I tell her my theory.

I'm not much for conspiracy theories, but I do think there can be a degree of truth in them. I know people and I know my own mind. I can see how strong emotions can control you… a little greed or anger can go a long, long way.

NPR is always on in my car, at my desk, and one of my favorite things on tv is the BBC news—bit of news nerd. Knowing that about me, you can guess that even when I'm not consciously listening, the nut case in the back of my head is listening. That little nut in the back row tosses up information occasionally—not always complete thoughts, but enough to get the conscious interested.

I'm telling Missy--remember what happened with Enron? And with the electric companies in California? How they orchestrated the rolling black outs? And Halliburton? How about those non-existent weapons of mass destruction? Whatever happened to Colin Powell?

I'm also thinking about the phone monopolies and some of the other major corporate crap the country went through… and I'm remembering The Jungle and the grip of the company store.

I continue with Missy… I don't want to sound like a crank, but I've been putting two and two together. I think it won't be long before we hear something about the gas companies.

Yes, she agrees.

What do we do? How long do you think people can go on like this? I'm near the breaking point. I can't be alone. I'm just not sure where to start.

click the post title...

side stop at the workshop

before gas shot up in price, i used to get into my car and drive anytime i was upset. the madder i might be, the farther i drove. oh, the stories. once on one of these venting sessions, i learned five dixie chick songs. i'd never listened to them, so i stopped at a walmart, bought the cd and drove until earl's gotta die had its own grove in my head.

one of my favorite places to drive was jeff city. the most i ever did was get out of my car, walk around the capital and drive back. that's it. and i came home completely defused. weird, i know.

yesterday, i went to jeff city for a belly dance workshop. i figured that since i was there christening the city with positive energy, i might as well takes some pics further changing what jeff city means to me.

click the title to see what i saw...

thanks princeton

So according to Princeton, I should be looking for a Blue/Yellow job. How much do you think that pays? Is advancement Green?


People with blue Interests like job responsibilities and occupations that involve creative, humanistic, thoughtful, and quiet types of activities. Blue Interests include abstracting, theorizing, designing, writing, reflecting, and originating, which often lead to work in editing, teaching, composing, inventing, mediating, clergy, and writing.


People with yellow styles perform their job responsibilities in a manner that is orderly and planned to meet a known schedule. They prefer to work where things get done with a minimum of interpretation and unexpected change. People with a yellow style tend to be orderly, cautious, structured, loyal, systematic, solitary, methodical, and organized, and usually thrive in a research-oriented, predictable, established, controlled, measurable, orderly environment. You will want to choose a work environment or career path in which your style is welcomed and produces results.

the light ahead

A light with no point
Of origin or destination
That glows brightly
For no one to see
A light in the forest
On the sea in a fog
Showing the way
For no lost traveler
A light alone
In a dark room
Joyful and loving
Warm and caring
A light in the void
Teetering
Collapsing
In on itself and
Grasping
A sun that grows dim.

kymberlieblu's burlesque review...

Get that feather boa out of the bottom of your closet and slip it through your fingers. You know you want to slide it over your shoulder and do a little shoulder shimmy. So what's holding you back?

I took my first burlesque class tonight and I've got to say… I loved it.

I didn't know what to expect and I think that helped. When I arrived one of the students was working out a routine to Billy Idol's White Wedding—in a tricked out wedding dress, of course. That might have had me backing out the door six years ago, but I've seen many a belly dancer iron out the kinks prior to a beginning class. Instead of being intimidated, it actually gave me a sort peep into the behind the scenes and showed me where I could take this if I really dig it.

The teacher, Lola, is a beaming ray of energy and enthusiasm. She taught us a couple dances with quick and simple choreographies. Very encouraging and full of tips, this girl is not only a beauty in three-inch heels, she completely disarms you and makes you feel like you've known her forever.

The class was small and varied even with four students. Besides me, there was another newbie who is taking the pole dancing class and two girls fresh off their first performance. The lights were low, the music was rich and the boas were plentiful.

However, if you think it's all swivels hips and head snaps without some sweat, you're sadly mistaken. I had a flash back to the first year that I belly danced. I remember how I used to struggle to make the movements look like the teacher and how I used to sweat. Lord, how I sweat tonight! You're using muscles differently and slowly. Just like in belly dancing—it looks like yeah, I could do that. And then you do it and cry in the morning when you try to move. This is a fabulous workout.

Overall? This is going to compliment my belly dancing beautifully. I can see it helping me with stage presence, confidence and the all-important… listen to the music! It really is invigorating, empowering and just plain sexy-fun.

As children, lots of us played dress up and strutted and danced and sang and were a star. In this class, I'm not just a star, but also a pinup girl with sexy heels, slinky gloves and a so-soft boa. Turn up the music!

on the balcony

one of the very nice things about my tiny little home is my balcony. it isn't much, only about 3 x 8 feet. but, it makes a world of impact. the first thing i do when i get home is throw open the french doors and look over the rooftops into the sky. this door into the sky makes my little studio feel like the biggest home in the world.

and, one of the treats that i'm enjoying tonight, is the music. i'm about three blocks from schlafly's in maplewood. the construction of the world between me and their parking lot is perfect because it pipes the music up to my door.

last month during the bbq i heard some great bands and i got some work done at the same time. for a girl on a budget--i get live music almost every night. how can that be anything but a benefit!?

to tat or not to tat?

i'm thinkin' bout a tat.

can't wait to share that with mom on her birthday tomorrow. when she asks, "what's new with you?"

"i'm thinking about getting some crack candy."

even at 41, shocking my mom is possible and fun.

but, really. i am seriously considering it. i absolutely love the way a belly dance costume looks with a really nice tat rising up the back.

i like peacocks as of late. perhaps something in that vein.

don't have a single tat on me....hmmmmmm

changing my mind...

when i was in high school, i used to dream about living in a warehouse and having a jeep, a motorcycle, a ferrari and a van with an image painted on the side--a blonde with a black panther (i also used to be very blonde). of course, everything was black.

i've changed my mind. i'd like to skip the van entirely and have a 69 marcos 1800.

let's keep everything black, okay?

inspired on the flyway...

Deathly afraid of fear
The first to say no,
The second to go.

One-twenty on the flat,
Make it rattle then strike
Chasing black storms
Singing too loud and
Dancing for myself.

Climb too high,
Laugh too loud
Tease too much,
Give in too often.

Gripping the edge,
The good girl goes home.

we have a yellow flag!

Some of the reasons I like the Indy 500:

The gut roaring rumble and expectant excitement that starts after the sentence, "Drivers start your engines."

Obviously, the speed. I mean 221 mph? 0 to 100 in 3 seconds. Now THAT is HOT. I really wanna feel that some day and not get a ride in a police car for it.

The hilarity of the ridiculous obsession of the earrings worn by the wives

The preshow stories of the drivers—it's a virtual buffet of accents nearly as hot as the speed

Jim Nabors singing back home in Indiana

The closing of the visor, like a knight preparing to joust

Tire scrubbing in the Brickyard...come on, that just looks fun

The power of an open wheel car--clean, no waste.

Did I mention the fabulous foreign accents?

The danger—yes, I can understand belonging to the car.

Oh hell, yes, I romanticize it. But, sometimes when I'm taking a turn on the outside and I can feel the edge of the tire just gripping… just gripping… I feel a long forgotten memory reaching for the surface. But who's memory is it?

these feet are made for walking?

I've been putting off a stop at Wal-Mart (the DeathStar) to fill a prescription. Instead, I've joyfully had my rump expanding in an office chair as I rack up the overtime. I decided that last night would be the night—I'd walk there.

I walk a lot, but lately, a run around my office in an effort to keep awake is about all I want to squeeze into my day. The Wal-Mart is a pretty good distance, maybe 3 miles round trip? Really, that isn't much, but when you've been sedentary for a few weeks, taking the pillows off the bed is exercise.

So, I took a deep breath, grabbed my iPod and boldly headed out into my neighborhood. Let's discuss what I learned.

1. Walking is a grounding experience. It reminded me that I am connected to a really large ball of mud and stuff and that even adults can be too attached to the computer.

2. A fantastic little coffee shop with books just opened a block away…OMG. It's called the Stone Spiral and you should support your local coffee house! Story about the Stone Spiral

3. My neighborhood has some really unassumingly awesome architecture. However, one building I thought was an office building turned out to be a perfectly shameful apartment building.

4. I'm painfully close to the Kingdom of Slushies—7-11!

5. The apartment complex that I lived in twenty years ago has very pristine landscaping, but still has that more-than-slightly sleazy feel. Walking past caused the Twilight Zone music to kick on in my head.

6. Men on mopeds need to be noticed by women walking down the street. They will not be denied and will pass, slow down, pass, slow down until you nod.

7. iPods are made for walking, especially when you can play the Juno soundtrack and visualize yourself walking through a cartoon-illustrated neighborhood.

8. Pedestrians are growing in number and friendly as heck. I was anything but alone… and some folks were down right chatty!

9. Wal-Mart is by far the most incredibly awful place for the eyes and ears. However, the people watching cannot be beat.

10. When you carry what you buy, you buy less.

OMG the trauma!

Monday morning, tah dah, paper on the door announcing the yearly bug killing fest.

They sprayed our apartment building for bugs today. Pull out everything under the sinks and from the lower cabinets... check... checkity... check... if you have a cat, remove it or cage it. whah? That was at the bottom of the flyer and I didn't read that part until 11 pm last night. Max? Take him to work? That wouldn't work.

Cage him? ummm. okay. I'll come back at lunch and let him out. That cat carrier is reaallly small. He'll be howling all day.

Later that night.... my neighbors were up fighting their genius little heads off. HE (the mystery man from hell) screamed at my poor, ever so ditsy neighbor all night. "You're F'n crazy (insert name). At 2 am. 4 am. 8 a.m. I laid in bed thinking, no shit, Dumbass. Have you met the woman you're co-habiting with? So, compound the crazy lady and her man's "let's live together in a closet issues" with my anxiety over my cat and the fact that I had an appointment for my car, too, which I now had to cancel..... on and on in my head. Turn it off!

At 8:30 this morning I covered Wagner. Dude, you'll be fine. This stuff won't hurt animals... they say. Okay, Max. It's your turn. I set the carrier next to the doors for full sun, put a bowl of water in the back of the carrier, scrunched up a soft old t-shirt and picked 5 giant sprigs of catnip. Here kitty, kitty....

He followed the catnip in and click... I promise I'll be back. Please be a good stoned little kitty.

Work, work, work. Anxiety ensues. I must check on my cat. He's probably wailing at the top of his crazy little lungs. Work, work, work. Anxiety. umm, I have to go.

No I can't stay for lunch. I must free Max.

That's when my ever-so-level-headed co-workers orchestrated an intervention.

"My cat stayed in a carrier for hours. He'll be fine."

"Duke went his whole first day by himself yesterday and didn't pee in his cage."

What if Max pees on me in the middle of the night again? That was unpleasant.

"He's fine, I'm sure."

"My cat is often asleep in the same spot when I get home as when I left her in the morning. He's asleep."

But what if he's howling?

"And wake up the crazy lady and her guy who are now sleeping after keeping you up all night, REALLY?"

Okay, pass the potato salad.

And so I slinked in at 5:30. "How's my little man?"

mew. mew. MEOOOOOOOOOW.

stop the ick!

dear gawd, whose idea was it to leave the mcdonalds open at one am???

first of all, somebody must have been drunk and confused, because they turned off the jack in the box sign and that is SUPPOSED to be on! i'm supposed to be able to kill myself with fifty cent deep-fry-me-a-mystery-meat taco at one in the morning. those are my "your night sucks and you need to do some emotional eating" snack.

but, instead i ended up at mcdonalds. you'd think that would be okay, unless you know me. i don't eat fast food. so when i do, i expect to suffer, usually by sticking my head under the faucet to get the water faster. and mcdonald's is a salt lick.

however, i've introduced a daily med to my life and let me assure you that it has an absolutely violent reaction to that delectable fast food oil... lard... kill juice that makes french fries the wonder drug for the emotionally spent. i woke up this morning with a food hangover and spent the brighter part of the morning wishing i could just reach in and remove my tummy.

i'm guessing this is a good thing. emotional eating will now focus on celery with light cream cheese. or perhaps those alfalfa sprouts growing in my fridge. cuz we know we aren't going through this again. at least not until i pass kfc with an open window and a heartache.

i was a wilco virgin

I went to see Wilco last night and now I get what all the fuss is about.

When my friend, Chris, ended up with a spare ticket, she tossed it my way. I'd heard of Wilco because Chris' husband, Gary, makes fantastic compilation cds and almost always includes a Wilco cut. I also knew that there was some distant connection to Uncle Tupelo. Plus, it was at the Pageant and I'd never been, so why not!

I checked the Pageant site to see who was opening—not a band I knew. But, more importantly, I saw that Wilco was here for three nights and sold out every one. Very impressive. I had a feeling I was about to link into something big.

When I met up with my friends, I found out that our mission after the show was to meet the band so that Gary could get a picture with Jeff, whoever that was. But, judging from Gary's excitement this was a big deal.

Before I forget, the Pageant is awesome. I know you all know that, but it must be said. And the opening act? They took themselves way too seriously and sounded awfully angsty.

I was highly entertained by the fans. There was the blonde duo, doing the blonde dance, and the drunk girls doing the "when I'm drunk I'm such a good dancer" dance. An amazing amount of men were dancing—some doing the man dance, some playing air drums… one even had a little tush shimmy that Chris pointed out.

I'd never seen a band that I didn't recognize a single song, but every other person in the room knew every single word. I felt like I was the new person at an evangelical revival.

The band was, in short, incredible. They had entertaining lyrics, were very tight and damn, that Jeff guy has a lot of guitars. I even remembered a couple of songs this morning, which for me says a great deal since I have the memory of a gnat.

After the show, we did indeed get to meet the band. Gary's brother gets kudos for pulling that together. Gary got his picture with Jeff, who turned out to be a perfectly charming, regular guy. Thanks to Gary, I had a brief moment of contact with Glenn Klotche, the drummer—a moment that may rank in one of my top ten.

The absolutely splendid thing about being an outsider and meeting a band that generates such intense devotion, was that I could calmly observe and just meet a bunch of guys that were really, really good at what they do. Well, with the exception of the drummer. That was one of those flat line moments you aren't expecting.

The end result was a very high wow factor and I woke this morning wanting more.

Now, I see what all the fun is about.

conversations are two people talking

hi! have we met? have you met max? no? well, meet my cat. he'd love to chat.

what? what's that din? oh that's max. he isn't finished talking to you. i'll leave you two alone.

i'm sorry, what? no, i can't hear you over the cat. wine? no, i don't have any. what? oh no, he isn't whining. he is talking to you.

yes, you have to stand still, put your hands on your hips and look intently into his eyes. because he wants make sure you're listening, that's why.

yes, please. yes, yes, max we hear you. what? oh he'd like you to follow him out onto the balcony for a bit of catnip.

oh yes, very cute. and yes, quite vocal. oh no, people never believe me. what? i'm sorry. excuse me. max, do you mind? we'd like to have a conversation.

snapshot of a cat lady in the making.

outside the lines

well. that was fun. i learned... a lot? umm how to paint? actually, i did learn a lot. one thing i learned was to let go and not be so AR about every bloody detail. i may have even developed a bit of an attitude.

this was the first class that i've ever gone through that i didn't read every word i was told to. i can't even tell you much of what we were supposed to learn... lots of stuff about contrasting colors and itten and albers.

what i did learn was how to mix and use paint. i learned that no matter how AR or meticulous you are, it's one hell of a feat to recreate a photo with paint. i learned that the right shade of brown can be tricky to get. i also discovered that indeed i, the obsessive compulsive, can indeed splatter my paint and create abstract art. holy crap. a miracle that one.

i also found that i have more confidence in myself and my work than i knew. when i had something that rocked, i said so. when i had something i hated, others taught me the lesson of your best work being the one that you hate. in the end, i was no longer afraid of wasting paint, of getting the wrong color, of painting over, changing the plan entirely. nowhere on the syllabus did it mention this sort of growth.

i discovered that my work doesn't have to look like yours. i discovered that i have a lot to learn, but i've covered some ground already. i've discovered the joy of painting outside the lines. and no offense, your opinion? my day isn't made or broken by it.

it's okay kid...

I met Mike at a poker game. I didn't know how to play poker. I followed a boy to that game. The boy was a mess and I was drawn to him like a moth to flame. It was the beginning of my fascination with fires and it took too many years to stop reaching for the flame.

Regardless, there was Mike. He was holding court and when we were introduced, he called me Kid. I hated being called Kid. I stopped being a kid at nine years old. But, when Mike said it and my friend sucked in her breath expecting the wrath, I just said, "Hey, man, teach me to play?"

Mike never left my side. He held me when I cried again and again over that boy I'd followed to the poker game. He opened the doors for me to every bar and restaurant I entered. Men who harassed me disappeared with Mike and either didn't return or stayed away from me for the rest of the night.

Mike had a girl and a child, but the relationship was a disaster. He often didn't have a job and never had a car. I drove him anywhere that he needed to go and loaned him money that he never failed to repay. I picked him up again and again because Mike was a sensitive guy and his girl knew just where to hit him.

We would drive around for hours and talk. Usually, it was about me trying to understand why the train wreck that I was in love with just didn't understand that I was the right one. But, wishes like that are never granted and the harder you wish the more you cry. Mike would sit next to me and hold my hand. He'd say, "It's okay, Kid. Don't lose hope. You're a good girl and you'll be fine."

It's been just about ten years since Mike hit a bridge driving home drunk. It's been just about twenty years since I talked to Mike. Tonight at the corner of Lindbergh and Manchester I heard a voice say, "It's okay, Kid. Don't lose hope."

I haven't, Mike. And man, I miss you.

the evil you know...

last week the woman upstairs kept me up all night. i got forty-five minutes of sleep, then went to work at 7. AND i had class until 10. woe is me, i was ready to clobber her.

she choose to have a party that night... with a herd of two or three and a boxer that was restless. we live in studios... maybe 300square feet. it's not like there was anywhere for me to hide from the chairs being drug across the hardwood floor. but, even that was no big deal. the howling at the moon at the top of their lungs at two am was really starting to push it, but standing on the balcony and beating a drum to welcome the dawn pushed me over the edge... out i went in my underwear. at this point, i no longer cared. "oh would you like me to keep it down?' "that would be just dandy," i said.

so, there were more skitters across the floor, more yelling at the dog. i said to hell with it, got up and made coffee. i've successfully avoided her since because frankly i'm still a little ticked with her.

tonight, i figured out what all the chair dragging is about. the crazy lady is packing up and moving out. *gasp* noooooooooooooo! oh no. she's nuts, but she's well, i know her brand of crazy. she came down last year to tell me that world war three was going to start any day. she knew because of dreams she was having and she has a cousin on a navy ship. she thought she should tell me so that i could make plans. "well, thanks for the info. i don't really know what else to say to you."

but, now she's leaving. she's packing up her yoga mat, her native american drum and her giant dining room set. btw, when you live in a tiny studio, i'm not sure that buying a giant dining set to fill up your only space and sleeping in a corner of the kitchen is the best use of space, but hey.

so, now, i'm going to launch into the mystery tenant. gah. i just renewed my lease and you can hear people sneeze in this building, nice as it is. now, i feel really bad for pitching a fit about how nuts and loud she is. i want my crazy lady to stay.

oh please move in another crazy lady just like her. or maybe a nice looking man who works at wash u med school? ha! who am i kidding, i'm going to be sorry.

karma dude. it comes around.

four songs and no commercials

Modern-day warrior
Mean mean stride,
Todays tom sawyer
Mean mean pride.

I shifted into gear and hit the gas hard. I felt larger than life--in complete control of every molecule that surrounded me.

No, his mind is not for rent
To any God or government.
Always hopeful, yet discontent,
He knows changes aren't permanent,
But change is.

I paused an extra moment at the stop sign in front of his apartment and gave his sleeping consciousness a wink. I was all horsepower and chutzpah.

The highway lay wide open and felt like velvet below my feet. Shifting and gliding between cars, the song changed.

I walked along the avenue.
I never thought Id meet a girl like you;
Meet a girl like you.
With auburn hair and tawny eyes;
The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through;
Hypnotize me through.

I sang along and caressed the gearshift. I was making great time. Then I remembered why I woke up with a start and late to boot. I remembered why I leapt from the bed without a thought to hitting the snooze alarm. I looked through the sunroof into the sun.

A cloud appears above your head;
A beam of light comes shining down on you,
Shining down on you.
The cloud is moving nearer still.
Aurora borealis comes in view;
Aurora comes in view.

I haven't remembered my dreams for weeks. In my dream, I woke up and sat on the edge of my bed. I sat there staring at my pillow covered in strands of auburn. In my sleep all of my hair had fallen out. In reality, I cried in my sleep.

I down shifted and left the highway.

Here come old flattop he come grooving up slowly
He got joo-joo eyeball he one holy roller
He got hair down to his knee
Got to be a joker he just do what he please

I focused on the warmth of the sun and the music. The light turned green and I hit the gas. I am my own strength. I felt powerful and immense.

I sang at the top of my lungs.

He bag production he got walrus gumboot
He got Ono sideboard he one spinal cracker
He got feet down below his knee
Hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease
Come together right now over me

Almost to work. Light traffic and I'm sneaking glances at the drivers I'm passing. I'm like the sun and I'm brilliant. In the review mirror my eyes do not lie.

Look around you, look up here
Take time to make time, make time to be there
Look around, be a part
Feel for the winter, but don't have a cold heart

I'm slipping around turns like an Andretti. Four songs, no commercials and the dream turns to dust and is blown to the wind. I slide into my parking spot and take another look into my own eyes. Be true to yourself.

So lady, let me take a look at you now
You're there on the dance floor, making me want you somehow
Oh lady, I think it's only fair I should say to you
Don't be thinkin' that I don't want you, 'cause maybe I do

I swing open the door and slip out of the car. I smile all the way into the office. Every morning should clear away the doubts and cobwebs of fear, revealing our radiance and giving us clarity.

A dream and tears in the distance. Four songs and no commercials ahead.