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Location: Brasilia, Brazil
Interests: Reading, writing, bike trails, nature, organic foods (Trader Joe's is my savior!), music (rock, classical, celtic, modern laika and swing. Listing all the bands is a chore..yeah I'm lazy...but indie, punk and electronic are my favorites), art (esp. pop/
impressionism), foreign languages/cultures (esp. Greek and Spanish), random collections, antiques (anything old in general), vintage everything, scenic drives/walks, poetry, photography, history, star gazing, movies new and old (major LOTR, Alfred Hitchcock and Kill Bill fan)
Expertise: Writing, Daydreaming, Embarrassment, Randomness, Sarcasm, Apologizing for no reason, Pondering, Stressing myself out, Ranting, Biting my nails, Self-criticism, Hiding and/or denying my true feelings, my alter ego, Procrastination....none of them necessarily an expertise, more like uncontrolled habits
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
|I was bribed into spending the day with my grandmother and aunt (with her grandson in tow). It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be...despite the fact that I'm suffering from fatigue and my stomach is treating me like satan on a bad day. I haven't visited my grandmother in quite some time and it's sadly a relief. The nursing home depresses me...all I see are empty cages, room after room, held in one big ark for ancient people. It scares me--not death itself, just waiting for it. I probably shouldn't say it, but I'd rather die before I ever end up there.|
Anyway, she was...different this time. Usually she's unfocused, incoherent and too whizzed out on drugs to even hold a proper conversation. Today she couldn't [wouldn't] stop remarking on how "big" I've gotten. Like she was seeing me for the first time in years. And she noticed the huge bump on my face and asked flat out "how'd that get there?" in a less than pleasant tone. Nice. Nothing like being dissed by a geezer. She also criticized my aunt about her weight off and on...even though she's been that size for years. It made me uncomfortable. The way I used to feel when one of my friends got reprimanded in front of me, or that time my brother lied to a teacher and I heard him crying from upstairs when my parents spanked him. I'm so glad I was wearing a skirt and she didn't have the chance to ask "you gained too?"
My baby cousin on the other hand, is adorable. I haven't spent much time with him, even though he's technically my god brother (there was a ceremony and everything..like the Godfather but not as ritzy). We were at an art gallery, and I took him to the kid center where he played with blocks and puppets and his own brilliant imagination (he's an only child and is used to playing by himself). I love the way kids think. And no I don't mean "garsh, they say the darnedest things" either. They really do come up with fresh and intelligent observations, and what's even better is unlike us "adults", they're not afraid to say it. For example, he commented on a few pieces in the exhibit and thought the rest were uninteresting. I felt largely the same, yet feigned interest out of respect. I enjoyed building castles with him much more than talking "art design" with the yuppies.
Constructing castles. Constructing a sense of self. What's the difference? He's inspired me to adopt more of a "little kid"mentality. Basic and no bullshit.
|I have considered starting over. Just packing up everything and leaving...beginning again somewhere new. This inspires me. I don't have to make that change 30 years from now....I can make it today.|
I can drop everything and move to the opposite coast.
Or I can kick myself out of this....forced paralysis and achieve everything that my mind keeps telling me that I won't [can't].
It doesn't matter. I just want to be happy. Life doesn't need written instructions, or a map, or a plan or any of those silly things we use to attempt living a life orchestrated only by ourselves.
I want to make my own road, and where I end up is where I'll be.
I'll let you know when/if I'm leaving.
|Ok, vacation is officially over.|
Summer can be finished now.
|Artscape was ridiculously crowded this year. I almost lost myself
in the crowd. We spent most of the time waiting for lemonade and food
(I hate line cutters, people with strollers, and people with canes,
seriously, I was so pissed and ready to kill someone). Some of my
favorite (+)/not-so-favorite moments (-):|
+ Seeing how long it took for my demeanor to change from "average" to "serial killer" while standing in the food line
the people who are obviously not from the city--these are the people
who were walking around with horrified and pitiful expressions
(probably scared of being robbed or a mass of black people in general)
+ Looking at the crazy art cars (when I finally become a bum, I'm going to live in one)
+ Glow light sabers (didn't you hear? Glow necklaces and bracelets are out. Lightsabes' are so in!)
Walking in the mass exodus towards the car (I don't usually like
crowds, unless they all happen to be walking in the same direction)
Peeking into a gay bar (I fear I've resorted to stereotypes for this
point...but what do you call a place that attracts shirtless men in
tight jeans and black leather cowboy boots? Trust me, it was not a
Naked Cowboy Association)
+ Gazing at unique points of architecture
on the way there (daylight), and the inside house decorations on the
way back (nighttime)
- NOT taking the light rail (hmm at least we got a good walk in)
- Stepping in God knows what in white shoes (yeah I was pretty stupid for wearing them down there...but they were cute)
Witnessing two strung out junkies, stumbling up the street. One of them
was swaying in place and I feared she would fall over as I squeezed my
way past. The other was teetering sideways in the middle of the street
and only crossed when a car beeped her out of the way. Sometimes
junkies can be entertaining (like when they stop to do a jig in the
middle of street performances). Mostly, they're just fucking sad. All I
think about is the hell they'll feel when the high wears off
-Biting into my Italian sausage and realizing it wasn't worth it
The familiar sight of condos and other newly renovated apartments on
sale for 459,000 + which sit across the street from dilapidated, mostly
vacant, and near crumbling row homes. Instead of pushing these people
out of their homes into [failed] projects, why don't you try improving
neighborhoods for the people who already live there? The scenario is
sickening. Late 60s-early 70s mantra: let's get the hell out of the
city! There are too many of them moving in. We can cut down
those forests and take over those farms in the county and make
ourselves brand new safe, pretty communities. Current mantra: The
country is boring! It's chic and cool to live in the city
again. Let's tear down these buildings, displace the vermin, and build
nice, new, pretty condos at obscene prices to fulfill our yuppie
Oh yeah, and I still don't know who was singing. Whoever it was, she didn't impress me.
|The last thing I expected to do when I woke up this morning was to
clean the house. I guess somewhere in between fighting sleep from my
blurry eyes and staring at the ceiling while my body pulsed from a
lethargy induced ache, the bug bit me. I decided to do something with
my life. So I ventured downstairs to fix myself a fruit & lettuce
salad, drink yogi tea
and for a short while enjoyed the day breeze with yet another graphic
novel and Turkish Jades in hand (they're not bad, actually I probably
like them too much).|
When I came back in I started with
cleaning the sink and from there it was "ee-stor-ee". And don't worry,
my current 80s rock/pop fiendish obsession has not subsided. I rocked
out with the dishes to Motely Crue, shimmy-scrubbed the counter tops to
Kajagoogoo's "Too Shy" and serenaded the couch pillows with Def
Leppard's "Photograph". I would have broom guitared "Rebel Yell" but
quickly remembered my allergy medicine isn't that good. The only love
songs I listened to were in my head (it's a cruel, cruel, cruel
summmmer) while I smoked my 2 1/2 cigs. It would have been three, but
after feeling adventurous I moved to the front porch, and like clock
work my brother came home early and rained on my parade. I feel silly
hiding my cigarettes--especially at school. But at home, I might as
well be packing a car bomb than Camels.
While in a daze, I
did remember something good from yesterday. One of the office guys
sounded exactly like Kip from Napoleon Dynamite. I mean, it was spot
on. The lisp, the monotone, everything. I kind of wanted to
slip him a sheet of paper with the words "Can you do an impression for
me? More precisely, if you'd say 'Well, things are getting pretty
serious right now. I mean, we chat online for, like, two hours every
day so I guess you could say things are gettin' pretty serious' that
would be great. Thanks!"
I've been craving that movie ever since
Tonight I'm going to an art/concert venue. I have no idea
who's going to be there and won't even bother looking. Besides my
favorite part is always taking the lightrail.