I am going to a Halloween Party tonight. Nothing like waiting for the last minute to find a costume to wear. I will leave in a couple of hours to shop, running in and out of stores, crazy-eyed by the time this afternoon is through. Why do I always wait until the end?
I wait to do my Christmas shopping at the last minute as well. I really do hope this year will be different.
I have been a Costco member for years now. I pay my yearly fee in anticipation of finding really good bargains, but I rarely ever enter the store.
I feel very special when I first enter the warehouse. I flash my Costco card at the folks by the door and they nod me in as though I'm in a very special elite club. The first thing I see are the plasma TVs and I stop and stare with the others... before walking on. I feel hopeful and excited and happy I am there.
And then. I turn the corner and remember why I don't come in very often. The crowds! They can be a frightening lot. Especially before the holidays.
It was 2003. In a crazy moment of last minute Christmas shopping, I stopped in there to buy a few things. It was my last time there.
I was nearly done with my shopping when I tried to lean in to pick up a THE SIMS HOUSE PARTY computer game off the table for my niece. But doing so, caused someone to accidently drop their free sample of cider on my shirt. They offered me their sticky napkin covered in cinnamon swirl cake crumbs to absorb the juice, but the crumbs started to stain my shirt. I leaned in again while a child decides to hop for joy and clips me in my chin which felt as painful as a decapitation. In fact, a clear decapitation would have been less painful. There were so many people packed in, I pushed my somewhat full cart three aisles over and parked it. Returning back to the table was a feat in itself. After a few elbow digs in the rib, and someone stepping on my shoe, causing me to step out of it and then the horror of dropping down to the floor to reclaim my shoe was about as much drama I needed that day. I asked someone close to the table to grab me the game. And once I had it in my hands, I went looking for my shopping cart. It was gone. I think I saw a crazy-eyed lady with four kids clutching on her purple coat with fur around her neck, pushing it. I didn't have the heart to tell her it was mine.
So I carried that game to the end of the store to pay for it. It didn't take long to get there, as the lines were halfway down the store. I counted I was the 14th person in line. Everyone had carts overflowing in super-sized cereal boxes, detergents, tents, kayaks, exercise equipments, computers and clothes. I looked down at my small game and looked back at the long lines and then back down at my game. I lost to the lines. I looked around quickly to see if anyone was looking and then left The Sims House Party game behind me on top of a large plastic jar of red licorice.
Today I will visit the Dollar Store, Big Lots!, The Goodwill and the temporary Halloween Shop. Each store I will visit will undoubtedly look like a small cyclone has hit it. The stores will be crowded. Nothing will be on the shelves. I will most likely show up late to the party trying to get ready. I will apologize for whoever I am and have the best excuse in the book. While they spent weeks preparing for their costume, I only had a couple of hours. I will have a reason why my costume looks the way it does.
Being an artist, people expect more out of me. They expect me to have the best costume. To have the best gift-wrapped package. To have the dinner table set in a dramatic way. It's an expectation I don't want to meet. So I guess I'll continue with lame excuses why I had to wait for the last minute to get anything done. Not that I ever have to come up with one. I procrastinate well enough on my own.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
remote
I wish I had a magical remote. So I could click on any wish I had and it would come true in an instant.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
It might surprise you to know.....
1. Whenever I lie, my teeth chatter.
2. I've never been to a real circus.
3. I always liked Rhoda more than Mary.
4. I google-search everyone I know.
5. I've never eaten at Applebees.
6. Every time I see 7:23 on my clock radio I think of my birthday.
7. I recognize symptoms of dyslexia in me.
8. I grew up in a house with ghosts!
9. When I was a kid I loved Show & Tell and participated in it everyday.
10. I become extremely bashful in a public restroom when someone is waiting to get my stall.
11. I'm unable to hold a grudge.
12. I always feel out-of-place clothes shopping.
13. I can't dive into a pool without feeling the water first. I have to torture myself by going in slowly.
14. I don't like to camp.
15. I often cry "happy tears" when good things happen to people.
16. When we were teenagers, my friend would fly me around in her parent's private airplane by ourselves. (For good luck, my mom would give me her St Christopher's medal and a rabbit's foot). To this day, my mom cannot believe she let me do that!
17. I still can't tell the difference between Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino.
18. Even though I am extremely happy to have my parents, I used to daydream of living in an orphanage run by The Singing Nuns.
19. I do not like the smell of hospitals or visiting people in them.
20. There are always two sides to every story and I usually can see the point of view on both sides.
21. I love to drive. Especially winding roads at dark.
22. I have always loved Olivia deHavilland and wanted to be as kind and as sweet as her character, Melanie was in Gone With the Wind.
23. I do not like the rain or gray, colorless skies.
24. When I was a kid, everytime we played we had to include Quick Sand.
25. I was nearly murdered once. I don't fear that. But I DO fear my mother dying. Daily.
26. Sports on the radio is just white noise to me.
27. I never tire of a celebrity siting.
28. I feel great anxiety when someone starts his story off with "You are going to laugh so hard when I tell you this".
29. I think I would have made a fabulous detective. I have a really good ear for the small details in stories people share.
30. Often times when I walk inside my house, I greet it by saying, "Hello House!"
31. I once drove with a friend from San Francisco to Tyler, Texas for a day and a half's visit and then drove back home-- in the middle of August without air conditioning!
32. I don't think I've ever been bored, except when someone tells me too many jokes at one sitting.
33. When we were children, my friend and I would occasionally dress up and sing Let Me Entertain You to the patrons at a local restaurant without asking permission from the manager.
34. The most horrible movie I ever watched was Oprah's: The Beloved.
35. I am not afraid to take risks.
36. I love twisting a Q-tip in my ear.
37. I once sold children records door to door in Nebraska, Idaho, Oregon, Iowa, Washington, Colorado, Texas, California, Ohio and Virginia.
38. I love a pot-roast dinner with carrots and potatoes.
39. I never have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. UNLESS... I'm at someone's house I feel uncomfortable in, and then without a doubt, I will need to go.
40. They say "it's better to give than to receive" but I actually think I sometimes enjoy receiving more.
41. I love going out for breakfast.
42. I am late more often than early, but I really prefer arriving exactly on time.
43. I still feel very sad that John F Kennedy Jr has died.
44. I love a warm day at the beach.
45. I watched the movie GONE WITH THE WIND seven times by the time I was seven. I don't think I've seen it since.
46. I always feel self-conscious walking in a cross walk while cars wait for me.
47. I can never keep my hands clapping on beat with the rest of the audience.
48. I've always been a bridesmaid -- never a bride.
49. I have an extremely active imagination.
50. I don't remember the last time I was sick.
51. An unexpected doorbell ringing at my house causes me huge anxiety and I usually hide and don't answer it.
52. The longest drive I've ever driven alone was from San Francisco to Seattle which took me 12 and a half hours in my brand new 1987 red Hyundai listening to Air Supply, Phil Collins, Madonna and Cyndi Lauper.
53. I stop and greet every cat I see in the neighborhood when I walk.
54. I love going to Open Houses for sale and see how they decorate.
55. I only seem to need to fart when it's quiet and I'm in an uncomfortable situation.
56. Many times when the waiter talks of the specials of the night, I have a hard time listening to what he's saying, but nod my head as though it sounds delicious!
57. When I was a kid going to bed at night, our family would say "goodnight" to each other just like the Waltons.
58. I've been in every state except for Maine and Alaska.
59. I always get nervous driving in front of a cop.
60. I used to have bad acne as a teenager.
61. I was in full time ministry for nearly three years in my late teens/early twenties.
62. I have only watched Seinfeld in reruns and maybe only two episodes of Friends.
63. When I was a kid I wanted to look and sing like Olivia Newton John.
64. I wear shorts more than any other type of pants.
65. My ears are so flat, I can't carry a pencil behind them.
66. The only thing holding me back is fear.
67. Honesty and vulnerability in others is very endearing to me.
68. I don't own a library card.
69. I've been wearing the same fragrance (Clinique's Aromatics Elixir) since I was 19.
70. I love warm, tropical nights.
71. I tend to scan the prices first on the menu and then select a meal based on the price I want to spend.
72. I once got lost off-trail at a ski resort for hours and hours with a friend after dark. We had so much fun, but we swore never to admit that to any of our friends worried and waiting for us at the lodge.
73. I don't really like chatting on the phone.
74. I wake up naturally around 10 am if I don't have anywhere to go.
75. I tend to add a "y" to people's names when I talk to them.
76. Nothing irritates me more than someone lying to me.
77. I tend to want to rearrange a room every couple of years for a change.
78. Sometimes while driving, I'll secretly pretend I'm in a race and try to pass a car by a certain landmark as the finish line.
79. I once chipped my best friend's tooth with a shot-put while playing catch during Track&Field.
80. The only cats I have ever had were the ones that have adopted me.
81. Whenever I end my prayers, I say, "God bless everyone I love, hate, don't like and like." I've finished it that way ever since I can remember.
82. If I cry, I'm exhausted the rest of the day.
83. I seldom have the TV on during daylight hours. It just seems wrong.
84. Sometimes I will talk in a different voice, like a cartoon or a child or with a goofy accent.
85. I love picnics in the wine country.
86. I believe things always work out in the end.
87. I really don't want to discuss politics or religion.
88. I always wore hand-me-downs as a kid.
89. I often times get my words mixed up and say things I don't mean.
90. I'm really good at playing Charades.
91. I have sung too many times in the mirror with an air guitar and a hair brush.
92. Sometimes during a rainy, winter day, I will pay for one movie and then sneak off and see other one after the first movie is over.
93. I never tire of driving over the Golden Gate Bridge.
94. I go to a concert, not to hear the songs, but to see the singer.
95. I got a D in art in high school.
96. I didn't think I would, but I loved going on the Hollywood/Beverly Hills Movie Stars Home Tour a few years ago.
97. Everytime I am pumping gas, I wonder if the gas meter is accurate.
98. I love staying in hotels. First thing I do is turn the TV on and check out the bathroom and window view.
99. When I was a kid, I used to cry every night before my birthday because I would never be a certain age ever again.
100. I have never thrown coins into the Salvation Army pot during the holidays while they're ringing their bells. But I will this year.
2. I've never been to a real circus.
3. I always liked Rhoda more than Mary.
4. I google-search everyone I know.
5. I've never eaten at Applebees.
6. Every time I see 7:23 on my clock radio I think of my birthday.
7. I recognize symptoms of dyslexia in me.
8. I grew up in a house with ghosts!
9. When I was a kid I loved Show & Tell and participated in it everyday.
10. I become extremely bashful in a public restroom when someone is waiting to get my stall.
11. I'm unable to hold a grudge.
12. I always feel out-of-place clothes shopping.
13. I can't dive into a pool without feeling the water first. I have to torture myself by going in slowly.
14. I don't like to camp.
15. I often cry "happy tears" when good things happen to people.
16. When we were teenagers, my friend would fly me around in her parent's private airplane by ourselves. (For good luck, my mom would give me her St Christopher's medal and a rabbit's foot). To this day, my mom cannot believe she let me do that!
17. I still can't tell the difference between Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino.
18. Even though I am extremely happy to have my parents, I used to daydream of living in an orphanage run by The Singing Nuns.
19. I do not like the smell of hospitals or visiting people in them.
20. There are always two sides to every story and I usually can see the point of view on both sides.
21. I love to drive. Especially winding roads at dark.
22. I have always loved Olivia deHavilland and wanted to be as kind and as sweet as her character, Melanie was in Gone With the Wind.
23. I do not like the rain or gray, colorless skies.
24. When I was a kid, everytime we played we had to include Quick Sand.
25. I was nearly murdered once. I don't fear that. But I DO fear my mother dying. Daily.
26. Sports on the radio is just white noise to me.
27. I never tire of a celebrity siting.
28. I feel great anxiety when someone starts his story off with "You are going to laugh so hard when I tell you this".
29. I think I would have made a fabulous detective. I have a really good ear for the small details in stories people share.
30. Often times when I walk inside my house, I greet it by saying, "Hello House!"
31. I once drove with a friend from San Francisco to Tyler, Texas for a day and a half's visit and then drove back home-- in the middle of August without air conditioning!
32. I don't think I've ever been bored, except when someone tells me too many jokes at one sitting.
33. When we were children, my friend and I would occasionally dress up and sing Let Me Entertain You to the patrons at a local restaurant without asking permission from the manager.
34. The most horrible movie I ever watched was Oprah's: The Beloved.
35. I am not afraid to take risks.
36. I love twisting a Q-tip in my ear.
37. I once sold children records door to door in Nebraska, Idaho, Oregon, Iowa, Washington, Colorado, Texas, California, Ohio and Virginia.
38. I love a pot-roast dinner with carrots and potatoes.
39. I never have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. UNLESS... I'm at someone's house I feel uncomfortable in, and then without a doubt, I will need to go.
40. They say "it's better to give than to receive" but I actually think I sometimes enjoy receiving more.
41. I love going out for breakfast.
42. I am late more often than early, but I really prefer arriving exactly on time.
43. I still feel very sad that John F Kennedy Jr has died.
44. I love a warm day at the beach.
45. I watched the movie GONE WITH THE WIND seven times by the time I was seven. I don't think I've seen it since.
46. I always feel self-conscious walking in a cross walk while cars wait for me.
47. I can never keep my hands clapping on beat with the rest of the audience.
48. I've always been a bridesmaid -- never a bride.
49. I have an extremely active imagination.
50. I don't remember the last time I was sick.
51. An unexpected doorbell ringing at my house causes me huge anxiety and I usually hide and don't answer it.
52. The longest drive I've ever driven alone was from San Francisco to Seattle which took me 12 and a half hours in my brand new 1987 red Hyundai listening to Air Supply, Phil Collins, Madonna and Cyndi Lauper.
53. I stop and greet every cat I see in the neighborhood when I walk.
54. I love going to Open Houses for sale and see how they decorate.
55. I only seem to need to fart when it's quiet and I'm in an uncomfortable situation.
56. Many times when the waiter talks of the specials of the night, I have a hard time listening to what he's saying, but nod my head as though it sounds delicious!
57. When I was a kid going to bed at night, our family would say "goodnight" to each other just like the Waltons.
58. I've been in every state except for Maine and Alaska.
59. I always get nervous driving in front of a cop.
60. I used to have bad acne as a teenager.
61. I was in full time ministry for nearly three years in my late teens/early twenties.
62. I have only watched Seinfeld in reruns and maybe only two episodes of Friends.
63. When I was a kid I wanted to look and sing like Olivia Newton John.
64. I wear shorts more than any other type of pants.
65. My ears are so flat, I can't carry a pencil behind them.
66. The only thing holding me back is fear.
67. Honesty and vulnerability in others is very endearing to me.
68. I don't own a library card.
69. I've been wearing the same fragrance (Clinique's Aromatics Elixir) since I was 19.
70. I love warm, tropical nights.
71. I tend to scan the prices first on the menu and then select a meal based on the price I want to spend.
72. I once got lost off-trail at a ski resort for hours and hours with a friend after dark. We had so much fun, but we swore never to admit that to any of our friends worried and waiting for us at the lodge.
73. I don't really like chatting on the phone.
74. I wake up naturally around 10 am if I don't have anywhere to go.
75. I tend to add a "y" to people's names when I talk to them.
76. Nothing irritates me more than someone lying to me.
77. I tend to want to rearrange a room every couple of years for a change.
78. Sometimes while driving, I'll secretly pretend I'm in a race and try to pass a car by a certain landmark as the finish line.
79. I once chipped my best friend's tooth with a shot-put while playing catch during Track&Field.
80. The only cats I have ever had were the ones that have adopted me.
81. Whenever I end my prayers, I say, "God bless everyone I love, hate, don't like and like." I've finished it that way ever since I can remember.
82. If I cry, I'm exhausted the rest of the day.
83. I seldom have the TV on during daylight hours. It just seems wrong.
84. Sometimes I will talk in a different voice, like a cartoon or a child or with a goofy accent.
85. I love picnics in the wine country.
86. I believe things always work out in the end.
87. I really don't want to discuss politics or religion.
88. I always wore hand-me-downs as a kid.
89. I often times get my words mixed up and say things I don't mean.
90. I'm really good at playing Charades.
91. I have sung too many times in the mirror with an air guitar and a hair brush.
92. Sometimes during a rainy, winter day, I will pay for one movie and then sneak off and see other one after the first movie is over.
93. I never tire of driving over the Golden Gate Bridge.
94. I go to a concert, not to hear the songs, but to see the singer.
95. I got a D in art in high school.
96. I didn't think I would, but I loved going on the Hollywood/Beverly Hills Movie Stars Home Tour a few years ago.
97. Everytime I am pumping gas, I wonder if the gas meter is accurate.
98. I love staying in hotels. First thing I do is turn the TV on and check out the bathroom and window view.
99. When I was a kid, I used to cry every night before my birthday because I would never be a certain age ever again.
100. I have never thrown coins into the Salvation Army pot during the holidays while they're ringing their bells. But I will this year.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Stuck In a Snowglobe
That's how I've been feeling lately. Misplaced in the season. Stuck in a snowglobe.
It seems our weather has turned on a dime. Sometimes it looks warmer than it is, and I trot off on a walk and there's a small chill in the air. I'm still not accustomed to putting on a sweater or a coat or a sweatshirt. I just venture off wearing clothes appropriate for the tropics!
But I am enjoying this time of year and eventually I'll get the hang of what to wear as I venture outside....
It seems our weather has turned on a dime. Sometimes it looks warmer than it is, and I trot off on a walk and there's a small chill in the air. I'm still not accustomed to putting on a sweater or a coat or a sweatshirt. I just venture off wearing clothes appropriate for the tropics!
But I am enjoying this time of year and eventually I'll get the hang of what to wear as I venture outside....
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Anticipation
I feel almost silly.
I am still experiencing an unusual feeling of jubilation. The feeling I'm about to embark on some magical, wonderful adventure. Perhaps a new job. Or simply a new experience. I feel extra alert... double checking whether or not my shoe laces are tied so I'm ready to run. I want to be ready when the bells sounds, to jump out of my starting block. Not to linger and wonder if this is the race. To just believe that it is. And to run to be the winner.
Last night I dreamed I got a new job. I was hired to brush barbecue sauce on corpses so they have more color to them in the casket for viewing. Matt was kind to let me practice on him first.
Later in the night, I dreamed I worked at a hospital. There were lots of little children with eye diseases without a cure, so I designed a small pocket inside their eye to put their disease.. for later years when the cure is known, the doctors can open up the little pockets where the disease is and repair it.
And just before I woke up this morning, I dreamed I was playing an old 45-record and just above the spinning record, I could see prisms of color. The various notes sent different colors splashing about. I somehow was able to save several seconds worth of music and dancing color and bottled it up to sell.
My mind is constantly in motion. The RPMs are spinning along at a nice pace. Always thinking. Creating. Wondering.
It's a nice state to be in.
I am still experiencing an unusual feeling of jubilation. The feeling I'm about to embark on some magical, wonderful adventure. Perhaps a new job. Or simply a new experience. I feel extra alert... double checking whether or not my shoe laces are tied so I'm ready to run. I want to be ready when the bells sounds, to jump out of my starting block. Not to linger and wonder if this is the race. To just believe that it is. And to run to be the winner.
Last night I dreamed I got a new job. I was hired to brush barbecue sauce on corpses so they have more color to them in the casket for viewing. Matt was kind to let me practice on him first.
Later in the night, I dreamed I worked at a hospital. There were lots of little children with eye diseases without a cure, so I designed a small pocket inside their eye to put their disease.. for later years when the cure is known, the doctors can open up the little pockets where the disease is and repair it.
And just before I woke up this morning, I dreamed I was playing an old 45-record and just above the spinning record, I could see prisms of color. The various notes sent different colors splashing about. I somehow was able to save several seconds worth of music and dancing color and bottled it up to sell.
My mind is constantly in motion. The RPMs are spinning along at a nice pace. Always thinking. Creating. Wondering.
It's a nice state to be in.
Sunday, October 9, 2005
Saturday, October 8, 2005
Opportunity is Knocking
I've been hearing it for a couple of days now. It's a distant sound in my future. But getting closer. It hasn't come into view quite yet. I have no idea what it is. But I can sense its beckoning. I feel anxious and optimistic. Just a gut feeling that something wonderful is around the corner for me. An opportunity I have yet to be introduced to, but feel in my heart I will recognize it when it happens. I believe I need to move forward in order to find it. I need to meet it halfway. I believe that. I really do. And I will let you know when that happens to me.
Thursday, October 6, 2005
A Friend-Filled Weekend
I spent a few days with some dear close friends this past extended weekend in music-filled San Francisco. They are brilliant, and kind, and creative and entertain me with their unique personalities.
Buddy. Your voice. Your music. Your guitar playing. Breathless.
Thank you for taking time out of your outrageously busy weekend of music festivals and concerts to spend time with me. Your soft heart is beautiful. Please give Julie a hug and tell her I love her and miss her terribly. I wish her endless, painless days and nights.
Rexie. Thank you for your endless kindness and the lifelong friendship we share. Let's get together soon for a light-hearted picnic in the wine country under the warm afternoon sun. You are going to be just fine.
Jon. You are a great friend. Thank you for cooking such a delicious breakfast. Driving with the top down through the hills of San Francisco. Taking different side streets made it seem I saw this beautiful city for the first time. Being with you is easy and effortless; kind and familiar... thank you.
Kamela. An hour spent with you seems like just a minute in time. Your talents still amaze me. You inspire me. Thank you for your giving spirit and leaving me always feeling happy that I, too, am an artist. Please don't forget to slow down and rest when you can.
It's a great thing to have these lasting life-long friends. I don't see you nearly as often as I wish. We once spent time together nearly everyday. Way back when we were human life-preservers for each other ... keeping our chins up; staying afloat. What an adventure it was back then. Splashing through the chilly waves... focusing on survival.
We've all done good. And, stronger because of the storm.
Buddy. Your voice. Your music. Your guitar playing. Breathless.
Thank you for taking time out of your outrageously busy weekend of music festivals and concerts to spend time with me. Your soft heart is beautiful. Please give Julie a hug and tell her I love her and miss her terribly. I wish her endless, painless days and nights.
Rexie. Thank you for your endless kindness and the lifelong friendship we share. Let's get together soon for a light-hearted picnic in the wine country under the warm afternoon sun. You are going to be just fine.
Jon. You are a great friend. Thank you for cooking such a delicious breakfast. Driving with the top down through the hills of San Francisco. Taking different side streets made it seem I saw this beautiful city for the first time. Being with you is easy and effortless; kind and familiar... thank you.
Kamela. An hour spent with you seems like just a minute in time. Your talents still amaze me. You inspire me. Thank you for your giving spirit and leaving me always feeling happy that I, too, am an artist. Please don't forget to slow down and rest when you can.
It's a great thing to have these lasting life-long friends. I don't see you nearly as often as I wish. We once spent time together nearly everyday. Way back when we were human life-preservers for each other ... keeping our chins up; staying afloat. What an adventure it was back then. Splashing through the chilly waves... focusing on survival.
We've all done good. And, stronger because of the storm.
Monday, October 3, 2005
Illustration Friday--Float
The air is getting cooler. The evening skies arrive much sooner than I want them to. How I long to be back on a warm calm beach. Feel the warmth of sand underneath my toes. Float along the ocean shore. Looking up occasionally, feeling surprised how far the current is taking me, but it doesn't matter. Floating is what matters. And, when I get off the air mattress... I still feel the sensation of floating... even late into the evening.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Pursuing the Dream
I have always been a dreamer.
Back in my late 20s, I would write my own list of dreams and goals at the end of each year as my New Years Resolutions. It was never about quitting anything. It was all about new beginnings. It was all about starting new things and conquering them.
After writing out the list, I would fold the sheets of paper into an envelope to read the following year in anticipation to see how far I had gone. It would be my confirmation that miracles DO happen.
But. I don't recall ever opening the envelope. I think I was too focused in writing my list and never caring about the outcome.
This past summer when I was going through so many personal old papers and such, I came across my old wish lists and I was so taken back by what I had found! ALL of my wishes had come true. Really! All of them!
Not necessarily that year. But over time. Over the years they did come true.
But the sad thing about all this, is that I didn't notice all those dreams had come true for me. I was already off on another new adventure. By the time my dreams arrived... I had already turned the path. I already moved on to another dream.
This afternoon, I sat in my backyard.
It's nearly October. The leaves are already beginning to turn. Time for me to turn over some new leaves as well. I pulled out a small notebook. I started to write down my wishes, goals, ambitions and dreams whenever they came to mind. It was my TO DO List. By writing it down, it will give me a more complete picture of the progress.
I really believe in the power of dreams and creating the life we want to live. I believe that's what's going to happen when I start writing down my goals and wishes. My subconscious will work overtime to make sure I get what I want.
I hope you consider writing out your TO DO List, too. If so, let me know. We can share our accomplishments together.
Back in my late 20s, I would write my own list of dreams and goals at the end of each year as my New Years Resolutions. It was never about quitting anything. It was all about new beginnings. It was all about starting new things and conquering them.
After writing out the list, I would fold the sheets of paper into an envelope to read the following year in anticipation to see how far I had gone. It would be my confirmation that miracles DO happen.
But. I don't recall ever opening the envelope. I think I was too focused in writing my list and never caring about the outcome.
This past summer when I was going through so many personal old papers and such, I came across my old wish lists and I was so taken back by what I had found! ALL of my wishes had come true. Really! All of them!
Not necessarily that year. But over time. Over the years they did come true.
But the sad thing about all this, is that I didn't notice all those dreams had come true for me. I was already off on another new adventure. By the time my dreams arrived... I had already turned the path. I already moved on to another dream.
This afternoon, I sat in my backyard.
It's nearly October. The leaves are already beginning to turn. Time for me to turn over some new leaves as well. I pulled out a small notebook. I started to write down my wishes, goals, ambitions and dreams whenever they came to mind. It was my TO DO List. By writing it down, it will give me a more complete picture of the progress.
I really believe in the power of dreams and creating the life we want to live. I believe that's what's going to happen when I start writing down my goals and wishes. My subconscious will work overtime to make sure I get what I want.
I hope you consider writing out your TO DO List, too. If so, let me know. We can share our accomplishments together.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Escape
Sometimes when I can't sleep, I wonder about things, such as the little animals that waited two by two in line for hours and hours for Noah to choose their fate on his ark.
Did any of them pretend to be someone other than they were to better their chances in being able to escape the flood?
Monday, September 19, 2005
I Bought a Pair of Brand New Running Shoes
Working from home has gotten to me lately.
I've been feeling certain low levels of boredom and depression. Getting out to grocery shop has not been an easy task for me lately.
I sit at the computer day in and day out and sometimes never leave my house. So it's no surprise that I've been seriously daydreaming of getting out and exercising to increase my energy level. It is imperative to my discipline and work load. If I ever want to be a success, I need to first be successful within my own self.
I've been on the treadmill 8-10 times this past year, always being ever so gentle with myself, stopping as soon as I start to breathe heavy or feel boredom coming on. And, if that's not embarrassing enough, in that little time and so little miles, the treadmill's running belt split open the bottoms of my shoes. Kelly said I needed to buy a pair of *real* running shoes.
And so I did.
When I was a child I loved to run and would run everywhere. I did it effortlessly. In junior high and high school, I loved Track & Field. I adored the explosion of coming out of the starting block into a brief burst of an all-out-effort to the finish line just seconds later.
The long distance running was never my thing, though. I hated running laps around the school field for exercise. It wasn't so much that it was painful. It was just boring. Yet, lately I've been thinking I should take up running. It feels essential to my self-discipline in being a successful self-employed artist.
I sit too much and have overdosed myself in more than enough alone-time. So I decided it's best to run and to get my heart flowing again.
So yesterday morning over a large breakfast, Kelly and Matt invited me to go on an easy run with them. It was a good opportunity to wear my new running shoes. I laced up my dreams and headed out to join them.
Kelly is an ultra runner. In the past year, she has run in the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run in California, The Wasatch Front 100 Mile Endurance Run in Utah and the Cascade Crest in Washington. Matt easily runs 35 miles... and is training for a 50 Mile Run in November.
I've never run more than a mile at once in my life.
We started just outside Sugarloaf Ridge State Park, located high in the Mayacamas mountain range separating the Napa and Sonoma Valleys. Thankfully, we didn't run up against any deer, gray foxes, bobcats or coyote that live among the oak trees and grassy hillside. My eyes were mostly kept down, watching the tops of my new shoes getting dustier while darting over rocks, fallen branches, tree roots, horse manure and mud.
There were so many moments I wanted to quit. Especially when I got the painful side ache. And when my feet felt so heavy, it took every strength I had to lift them just high enough so as not to drag them along the dirt. Maybe it was the time, I felt my heart beating in my face and pulsating in my eyes. Or when I started to dry heave and thought I was going to throw up my breakfast.
But I didn't quit. I walked when I no longer could run. But I never stopped, and I mostly ran the three miles up hill and three miles back down. My heart and sweat beating out of my pores.
It was the first time I ever pushed myself beyond my comfort limits.
It ended up being a great day yesterday. I allowed to feel my heart really beat hard and fast against my chest for the first time. To feel the sweat on my back seep into my shorts. It was a time when I realized that I am more than I thought I could be and it was inside me all along just waiting for an opportunity like yesterday for me to see it.
Thank you Kelly and Matt for inviting me to run yesterday. Because you both are so great, you pushed me to be great in my own right. I needed that moment. To see what I'm made of.
To grab hold of this new experience and ride it like there’s no tomorrow.
Because we only know too well, there may not be. Life is short and I want to live my life as fully as I can. And I think it did begin again. It was yesterday.
Friday, September 16, 2005
A Summer of Bug Bites
So ... a few weeks ago I'm with my best-ever childhood friend and two of her daughters.
We talked of old childhood stories. One was which we were galloping through the yard on our invisible horses when I got stung by a bee and nearly died at seven-years-old. I was rushed to the hospital and survived within minutes.
For twelve years, I received 8 to 16 allergy shots a week. I hated it. I nearly memorized every single issue of Highlights for Children while sitting in the waiting room waiting for a reaction, which nearly always occurred, which added even more shots to my forever sore forearms and hips.
I took Terry and her adorable daughters by my mom's house because she hasn't visited it since we were kids.
As we wandered through the secret garden and pet cemetary we came under attack by yellow jackets. Terry got stung first. Then one of her daughters got stung three times. It was like a sniper decided to take aim and start shooting.
I have been stung four or five times since I became allergic. And, always within seconds, my tongue and throat start to swell closed so I have difficulty swallowing and breathing and I feel I'm losing consciousness as my blood pressure dramatically drops. I go into a severe anaphylactic reaction that can be fatal.
I quickly walked to my car and grabbed my epi-pen from my purse just incase I was stung and that's when I started to feel the bee buzzing inside my shirt. I carefully and slowly stretched the neck of my shirt open so it could fly out and, instead, it got caught in my hair and stung me on my neck near my left ear.
I tried not to panic. My heart raced so fast. The epi-pen is an auto-injector that administers epinephrine into my blood stream. I think it's a form of an adrenaline that can reverse the allergic reaction, at least temporarily, to provide the life-saving time needed for me to get further treatment in a medical facility.
God only knows how much of my own adrenaline was running through my veins when I got stung. Perhaps it was enough.
Before thrusting the syringe into my thigh.. I waited for the feeling of doom and death to come toward me.
I waited and I waited.
My allergic reaction never came.
I want to celebrate that. Celebrate my life.
I have been self-employed for one year now, too. Another miracle. It really is. Another reason for celebration. I am happy tonight. At peace. I believe in angels.
I count my blessings. I am aware of them everyday.
We talked of old childhood stories. One was which we were galloping through the yard on our invisible horses when I got stung by a bee and nearly died at seven-years-old. I was rushed to the hospital and survived within minutes.
For twelve years, I received 8 to 16 allergy shots a week. I hated it. I nearly memorized every single issue of Highlights for Children while sitting in the waiting room waiting for a reaction, which nearly always occurred, which added even more shots to my forever sore forearms and hips.
I took Terry and her adorable daughters by my mom's house because she hasn't visited it since we were kids.
As we wandered through the secret garden and pet cemetary we came under attack by yellow jackets. Terry got stung first. Then one of her daughters got stung three times. It was like a sniper decided to take aim and start shooting.
I have been stung four or five times since I became allergic. And, always within seconds, my tongue and throat start to swell closed so I have difficulty swallowing and breathing and I feel I'm losing consciousness as my blood pressure dramatically drops. I go into a severe anaphylactic reaction that can be fatal.
I quickly walked to my car and grabbed my epi-pen from my purse just incase I was stung and that's when I started to feel the bee buzzing inside my shirt. I carefully and slowly stretched the neck of my shirt open so it could fly out and, instead, it got caught in my hair and stung me on my neck near my left ear.
I tried not to panic. My heart raced so fast. The epi-pen is an auto-injector that administers epinephrine into my blood stream. I think it's a form of an adrenaline that can reverse the allergic reaction, at least temporarily, to provide the life-saving time needed for me to get further treatment in a medical facility.
God only knows how much of my own adrenaline was running through my veins when I got stung. Perhaps it was enough.
Before thrusting the syringe into my thigh.. I waited for the feeling of doom and death to come toward me.
I waited and I waited.
My allergic reaction never came.
I want to celebrate that. Celebrate my life.
I have been self-employed for one year now, too. Another miracle. It really is. Another reason for celebration. I am happy tonight. At peace. I believe in angels.
I count my blessings. I am aware of them everyday.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Johnny who?
A little girl declaring her love for actor Johnny Depp just moments before her older sister laughs at her mistake and erases it.
Thursday, September 8, 2005
Lost at Sea ... or just in the Fog
Here i am again. I feel the spray on my face.
Seemingly floating out at sea ... bobbing this way and that ... licking my finger and testing the wind. I'm drifting somewhere with no clear direction. I've lost my compass to my dream ... I can't remember my destination. I'm just drifting along through the mud flats. And I'm dragging again.
I recently had a business dinner with this wonderful man the other night. He is a super hero to me. He's young and has this dream of creating unique cookies. He lives in Berkeley. And on some mornings, he leaves at 3 am and drives across the Bay to Ukiah --which is a hundred miles up north on highway 101. He goes there to bake some sort of special cookies at a downtown bakery, and then afterwards, he drives even further south to San Francisco for his day job.
He doesn't seem to tire out because he sees his dream clearly in sight.
I'm so in awe of him.
I need to put my glasses on. I just looked out ahead of me and it all looks out of focus. Where has my dream gone? The fog has rolled in. I hold my compass in hand and need to follow it even when I don't see where I'm going.
Seemingly floating out at sea ... bobbing this way and that ... licking my finger and testing the wind. I'm drifting somewhere with no clear direction. I've lost my compass to my dream ... I can't remember my destination. I'm just drifting along through the mud flats. And I'm dragging again.
I recently had a business dinner with this wonderful man the other night. He is a super hero to me. He's young and has this dream of creating unique cookies. He lives in Berkeley. And on some mornings, he leaves at 3 am and drives across the Bay to Ukiah --which is a hundred miles up north on highway 101. He goes there to bake some sort of special cookies at a downtown bakery, and then afterwards, he drives even further south to San Francisco for his day job.
He doesn't seem to tire out because he sees his dream clearly in sight.
I'm so in awe of him.
I need to put my glasses on. I just looked out ahead of me and it all looks out of focus. Where has my dream gone? The fog has rolled in. I hold my compass in hand and need to follow it even when I don't see where I'm going.
Tuesday, September 6, 2005
She Wore the Same Coat
I LOVED my new Christmas coat. It felt as though the Christmas coat loved me as much I loved it. It wasn't a hand-me-down. It didn't have holes in the linings that would swallow up the dimes and cherry flavored caugh drops in my pocket.
I was 8-years-old and I beamed with pride owning this beautiful wonderful coat, rattling the candy and change in my pocket for everyone to hear.
I went to catechism in a large Cathedral Church in town. When I walked into class glowing like the many candles in the hallway and on the altar, I noticed Janet–– the beautiful, but loudmouth girl-- wearing the same coat.
I was so bashful back then, and I didn't want to take the shine away from her new coat, so I draped my lovely new coat on the doorknob outside every time before walking into the classroom.
My sweet lovely coat.
I still get a lump in my throat when I remember.
Monday, September 5, 2005
It's Just Five Minutes In My Life
I swing the kitchen door open from inside the garage and the doorknob breaks off in my hand. Several pieces bounce to the ground and under my car. Once inside, I hear my cell phone ringing, but its in the bedroom. The tune gets louder and louder and louder and seemingly faster and faster and causes me to panic thinking it's an important phone call. So without taking the time to turn on any of the lights, I rush through the dark living room, down the hall and into the blackness of the bedroom ... kicking over a clean litter box, flipping it in the air upside down. The phone has now stopped ringing.
I probably missed a very important phone call. Or worse, it's a wrong number.
I flip the light switch on and scoop up as much litter as I can to refill the litter box. Afterwards I walk into the bathroom to wash my hands and as I turn the bathroom sink knob, it decides to mimic my kitchen doorknob and it screws off in my hand. I easily screw it back in place while Mollie is meowing at me to eat. I dry my hands off and though I am just inches away, I don't want to take the time to lean over and hang the towel on the rack, so I TOSS it and miss and it drops in the toilet. I grab the dripping towel and run with it through the dark rooms over to the washing machine to drop it in.
With the lights now turned on, I feed the cat and then pull out the vacuum cleaner. Just as I'm about to plug it in, I can hear sweet little Mollie barfing up her entire dinner on my living room rug.
I haven't had a bad day. Just a really lousy five-minutes.
I probably missed a very important phone call. Or worse, it's a wrong number.
I flip the light switch on and scoop up as much litter as I can to refill the litter box. Afterwards I walk into the bathroom to wash my hands and as I turn the bathroom sink knob, it decides to mimic my kitchen doorknob and it screws off in my hand. I easily screw it back in place while Mollie is meowing at me to eat. I dry my hands off and though I am just inches away, I don't want to take the time to lean over and hang the towel on the rack, so I TOSS it and miss and it drops in the toilet. I grab the dripping towel and run with it through the dark rooms over to the washing machine to drop it in.
With the lights now turned on, I feed the cat and then pull out the vacuum cleaner. Just as I'm about to plug it in, I can hear sweet little Mollie barfing up her entire dinner on my living room rug.
I haven't had a bad day. Just a really lousy five-minutes.
Saturday, September 3, 2005
The Devastation
I have been squinting into the television screen for several days now. The same familiar faces of those on the street keep being played over and over again. I'm beginning to feel as though I know them. The young woman with her lethargic baby in her hands... the other woman desperately shouting "Old people are dying! Those in wheelchairs are dying!...." The man holding up his three-week-old baby shouting, "How's he gonna survive without food and water?!"
These images being played over and over again... I can barely watch anymore, yet do not want to distance myself from it either. It is devastating. It brings me to tears over and over again.
And I worry. All that standing water, the sewage, the decaying bodies, dehydration ... will there be long term kidney damage from all this? Obviously the emotional pain is just horrific.
Two nights ago, after staring at the putrid condition at the Superdome and into the hopeless faces at the Convention Center, I walked into the local Red Cross to become a volunteer. I attended a near four-hour class that would normally take a couple of weeks to complete.
I desperately wanted to help. To go out there in the midst of devastation and help in whatever capacity I could.
Last night I received a late phone call asking me to report to the Red Cross this morning at 11 to immediately receive my tetanus and diptheria vaccine and hepatitis B vaccine. I would also get my assignment of what airport I am to fly into. I could be leaving in one to four days and the minimum stay has lengthened from nine days to several weeks. We were warned we might be sleeping outside and be subjected to extremely uncomfortable situations.
While laying in bed last night I took an honest look into my own gut to find my inner strengths and limitations.
Our ability to handle life's difficulties is shaped by our very own unique life experiences. The amount of weight you bear on your shoulders is perhaps different than the weight I bare on my shoulders. Our personal triumphs and traumas we experience in our lives determine whatever that weight is we can safely bare.
Being aware of the responsibilities and commitments I've made at home and measuring how much weight I can put into my own heart and shoulders right now, I decided it would be best for me not to go on assignment. I certainly appreciate my caring friends and family who have called or written and helped me in my decison making.
I will help in other ways I can.
My heart and prayers go out to all of the people who have lost their homes, their families and their friends in this painful place of tragedy and devastation.
These images being played over and over again... I can barely watch anymore, yet do not want to distance myself from it either. It is devastating. It brings me to tears over and over again.
And I worry. All that standing water, the sewage, the decaying bodies, dehydration ... will there be long term kidney damage from all this? Obviously the emotional pain is just horrific.
Two nights ago, after staring at the putrid condition at the Superdome and into the hopeless faces at the Convention Center, I walked into the local Red Cross to become a volunteer. I attended a near four-hour class that would normally take a couple of weeks to complete.
I desperately wanted to help. To go out there in the midst of devastation and help in whatever capacity I could.
Last night I received a late phone call asking me to report to the Red Cross this morning at 11 to immediately receive my tetanus and diptheria vaccine and hepatitis B vaccine. I would also get my assignment of what airport I am to fly into. I could be leaving in one to four days and the minimum stay has lengthened from nine days to several weeks. We were warned we might be sleeping outside and be subjected to extremely uncomfortable situations.
While laying in bed last night I took an honest look into my own gut to find my inner strengths and limitations.
Our ability to handle life's difficulties is shaped by our very own unique life experiences. The amount of weight you bear on your shoulders is perhaps different than the weight I bare on my shoulders. Our personal triumphs and traumas we experience in our lives determine whatever that weight is we can safely bare.
Being aware of the responsibilities and commitments I've made at home and measuring how much weight I can put into my own heart and shoulders right now, I decided it would be best for me not to go on assignment. I certainly appreciate my caring friends and family who have called or written and helped me in my decison making.
I will help in other ways I can.
My heart and prayers go out to all of the people who have lost their homes, their families and their friends in this painful place of tragedy and devastation.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Dreams
When I was little, I was filled with imagination and couldn't shake this feeling that something wonderful was about to happen to me. That feeling has sustained me through my life and into adulthood. Even on some really dark days, I can feel in some small, inner bright place, that something really great and wonderful is in my future. On days when I feel invisable and want to sit it out on the sidelines, I need to keep moving forward, putting one step in front of the other, because I know those feelings of quitting are only fleeting.
Some days I feel as though bubble gum gets stuck to the bottom of my shoe and I can't move as quickly or as freely as I wish toward that dream. Other times, it feels as though my shoes have wings mounted to them and I can't keep up with myself.
I wonder how empty and bottomless a life must feel when someone lives it without a dream. Or, worse, has lost their dream altogether.
You'll know when you have a dream, because it has a way of capturing your imagination until it is all-consuming. It'll grab hold of you by the soul and you'll feel like soaring. It's what you want to do when you should be doing something else. The best part about your dream, is that it can also become your life's work. And, if you dream it, and its original, remember this: no one will ever be able to do what you do, better than you.
Because it's your dream. And, you're original.
Saturday, August 20, 2005
Reflection
In high school, I thought Debbie had the most beautiful smile. She had very long teeth that eclipsed her lower lip. Everyone called her Piranha. At the time, i didn't know that piranhas were ferocious fish with teeth who will eat their victims alive within minutes!
I thought her pretty nickname meant "princess" in spanish.
I used to copy her buck teeth smile, by curling and pushing my lower lip under and behind my front teeth. My teeth are not long, and in fact, somewhat little teeth, so I had to force it.
Whenever I flashed my new dazzling smile, I imagined me as beautiful as Debbie.
One day after feeling especially beautiful smiling my new piranha smile, I quickly flashed it in the mirror to see if my reflection matched what I saw in the mirror.
I was MORTIFIED!
Several days ago, I overhead the most contagious laugh while grocery shopping. I wondered how she got such an adorable giggle. Was it one she was born with or did she practice it at a giggling school. When I got into my car, driving home alone with just my groceries, I tried to replicate it to see how it felt and sounded. It was disasterous. I thought of my forced smile many years ago and this time laughed quietly to myself.
I'm perfect just the way I am. The lesson was learned a long time ago.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Letting Go
I am in the process of going through old letters, photographs, drawings, books, old birthday cards from my teens and early 20s. My mom cleaned out her storage shed and dropped these boxes off in my garage while I wasn't there to protest.
Each time I open up a box, I am bombarded with sentlmental memories. I really did have letters in the hundreds to get rid of. That's such a lost art now. I still receive hundreds of letters, but now they are in the form of email, that seems more painless to trash, than the ones written in pen with a stamp on the envelope and little sayings on the envelope that say "Hurry Mr Postman and send-- 'cause I'm sending this letter to my very best friend!"
This "letting go" has been an experience comparable to throwing up. It's so miserable while it's happening, yet the relief that follows almost passes for joy. I feel more lighter. More free. I have always admired those who have the sense to know what is important to keep and what is not. They are not bogged down by the weight of (seemingly) unimportant matters.
So far, I've emptied eight boxes. The recyling bin was filled to the brim. But when the garbage men emptied it, a box trapped half of my treasures of being thrown away, so they are still in there. Of course, I worry it's a sign for me to look through them again. Perhaps I've been given a second chance to look through my treasures. My mom says, "If you haven't seen these in this many years, you're not going to miss it".
It's hard for me to let go.
Later today, I will tackle a few more boxes. I will continue to have a separate pile where I'm not ready to trash and will repack them in boxes to go through again at a later date. I found a birthday card from Nana who died in 1981. The corner of it was eaten by a rat and it smells like an old attic. She signed the card, "love, Nana". I'd have to be completely heartless to part with such a treasure.
I still have a long, long way to go. But now I'm committed to keeping only the essentials, only those very few things that I absolutely can't live without. Like my green 4-H hat from when I was 10. A box full of old Tigerbeat magazines where Tony Defranco, Donny Osmond and David Cassidy graced the covers. A few untitled audio cassettes that might be worth listening to again. A Get Well card where an entire unknown 4th grade class signed their names, a huge box full of my childhood artwork, a Willie McCovey autograph and old newspapers with history making headlines such as ELVIS PRESSLEY DEAD on the cover.
My garage is never going to look like one of those perfect, organized garages seen in Home & Garden magazine. But for now, the clean folded clothes that were on top of my dryer in the garage have been taken inside.
I have Happy Meal toys I collected in the 90s in several see-through plastic containers along with a few ebay purchases that I have no clue as to why I bought, except the knowing that "the chase and not the purchase was most important".
There is the scrapbook I made when I was in the 4th grade, complete with a piece of skin I taped with masking tape onto the page titled: "My skin from my finger that got ripped out from the car ashtray". And a half-chewed photo of me in my brown and cream uniform, standing in the backyard, holding onto a kitchen spachela, just before my parents drove me to my first job, a hopeful rewarding career at McDonalds that only lasted eight hours.
But, that's not clutter - that's the good life.
Each time I open up a box, I am bombarded with sentlmental memories. I really did have letters in the hundreds to get rid of. That's such a lost art now. I still receive hundreds of letters, but now they are in the form of email, that seems more painless to trash, than the ones written in pen with a stamp on the envelope and little sayings on the envelope that say "Hurry Mr Postman and send-- 'cause I'm sending this letter to my very best friend!"
This "letting go" has been an experience comparable to throwing up. It's so miserable while it's happening, yet the relief that follows almost passes for joy. I feel more lighter. More free. I have always admired those who have the sense to know what is important to keep and what is not. They are not bogged down by the weight of (seemingly) unimportant matters.
So far, I've emptied eight boxes. The recyling bin was filled to the brim. But when the garbage men emptied it, a box trapped half of my treasures of being thrown away, so they are still in there. Of course, I worry it's a sign for me to look through them again. Perhaps I've been given a second chance to look through my treasures. My mom says, "If you haven't seen these in this many years, you're not going to miss it".
It's hard for me to let go.
Later today, I will tackle a few more boxes. I will continue to have a separate pile where I'm not ready to trash and will repack them in boxes to go through again at a later date. I found a birthday card from Nana who died in 1981. The corner of it was eaten by a rat and it smells like an old attic. She signed the card, "love, Nana". I'd have to be completely heartless to part with such a treasure.
I still have a long, long way to go. But now I'm committed to keeping only the essentials, only those very few things that I absolutely can't live without. Like my green 4-H hat from when I was 10. A box full of old Tigerbeat magazines where Tony Defranco, Donny Osmond and David Cassidy graced the covers. A few untitled audio cassettes that might be worth listening to again. A Get Well card where an entire unknown 4th grade class signed their names, a huge box full of my childhood artwork, a Willie McCovey autograph and old newspapers with history making headlines such as ELVIS PRESSLEY DEAD on the cover.
My garage is never going to look like one of those perfect, organized garages seen in Home & Garden magazine. But for now, the clean folded clothes that were on top of my dryer in the garage have been taken inside.
I have Happy Meal toys I collected in the 90s in several see-through plastic containers along with a few ebay purchases that I have no clue as to why I bought, except the knowing that "the chase and not the purchase was most important".
There is the scrapbook I made when I was in the 4th grade, complete with a piece of skin I taped with masking tape onto the page titled: "My skin from my finger that got ripped out from the car ashtray". And a half-chewed photo of me in my brown and cream uniform, standing in the backyard, holding onto a kitchen spachela, just before my parents drove me to my first job, a hopeful rewarding career at McDonalds that only lasted eight hours.
But, that's not clutter - that's the good life.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Interstate-5
www.illustrationfriday.com: theme is WISDOM
Wisdom is something I have sought after and have embraced for many years. So with that said, I feel small in that I am only focusing on my drive on I-5.
I am home now after a few days in Grants Pass, Oregon where temperatures soared into the triple digits. I loved the warm evenings up there.
But, the drive on I-5 was a feat in itself with so many 18-wheelers owning the road. They would just fill up my rear-view mirror behind me. It took a bit of wisdom to know when to pass and when to hold back along those curves.
It felt like each time I passed them, they were pulling me into their lane.
-----
I went on this: http://www.hellgate.com/Page.asp?NavID=46 along the Rogue River. It was so much fun! Sometimes I felt we were spinning out of control. Though we always landed upright and safe. Lately, my life has been feeling a bit of that. Keeping busy for busy's sake, but not getting much accomplished by the end of the day.
This too takes wisdom to discipline my time. Spending my minutes doing that which is most important.
I have been commissioned to design a logo. I will put my head down and work hard today. It is just drizzly, foggy skies overhead. I miss the sun and it's warmth. Winter is coming only too soon for me.
Friday, August 5, 2005
Waving Goodbye
Waving goodbye to over-night guests can be an empty feeling -- especially when the people I'm waving to, don't see me wave. (Which thankfully doesn't happen very often!).
I start off waving and smiling while they're getting situated in their car ... adjusting the mirror, turning on the heater, handing a map to someone in the back seat and answering their cell phone. My right arm gets tired from waving so quickly, so I switch to my left. Then back to my right. For a moment, I want to stop, but then worry if I do stop, that will be the moment they looked up and would have never known I was waving to them. So I must continue to wave. Wave with both hands. Jump up and down. Smile as animated as I can. Wave until they are out of site. Hope they saw me in their rear-view mirror still waving. (And feel a bit self-conscious, wondering if any of the neighbors were watching all this from their front windows).
And, as empty of a feeling that is. My house feels even more empty when they have left.
There's this roar of quietness that seems to permeate everything ... and is deafening to my ears ... and to my soul. I wander around in a fog. I see the empty breakfast dishes still on the table and I leave it there. I'm not ready to clean up. I want the memory to hang on just a bit more. I touch the seat of one of the chairs and it is still warm from their presence. I am lost for awhile. Just roam from room to room waiting for the fog to lift ... and it always does.
I start off waving and smiling while they're getting situated in their car ... adjusting the mirror, turning on the heater, handing a map to someone in the back seat and answering their cell phone. My right arm gets tired from waving so quickly, so I switch to my left. Then back to my right. For a moment, I want to stop, but then worry if I do stop, that will be the moment they looked up and would have never known I was waving to them. So I must continue to wave. Wave with both hands. Jump up and down. Smile as animated as I can. Wave until they are out of site. Hope they saw me in their rear-view mirror still waving. (And feel a bit self-conscious, wondering if any of the neighbors were watching all this from their front windows).
And, as empty of a feeling that is. My house feels even more empty when they have left.
There's this roar of quietness that seems to permeate everything ... and is deafening to my ears ... and to my soul. I wander around in a fog. I see the empty breakfast dishes still on the table and I leave it there. I'm not ready to clean up. I want the memory to hang on just a bit more. I touch the seat of one of the chairs and it is still warm from their presence. I am lost for awhile. Just roam from room to room waiting for the fog to lift ... and it always does.
Wednesday, August 3, 2005
Persistence
llustration Friday's Topic: Aging
I didn't have anything to draw, and then this morning I glanced out my window.
His car pulled up to the front of my curb. He moved slowly forward about five inches. Brakes abruptly. Backs up about two inches. Another hard brake and his car dips. He slowly moves forward another inch. Then back another inch. Then forward three more inches.
He pulls himself out of his car and the slowness of it all, makes me stop and watch. He walks s-l-o-w-l-y toward his trunk. At first, I thought he stopped and was was just looking down the street. But gradually, I could see he was making some sort of headway. He moved as if he was gliding on wheels. Just small, gentle tiny steps. One foot in front of the other. Just ever so slowly.
He gets to the trunk and opens it. He bends into it and I can only see his waist as he reaches in for something in the far back. Slowly, he pulls it out.
It's one of those dashboard sun protectors. He unfolds it and then turns to walk the same slow walk back to the front of his car. He glides into the front seat and with all the time in the world, he places the sun protector on his dashboard and moves it this way and that way, up and back an inch or two, until he has it placed exactly how he wants it.
He sits for a moment and then climbs back out. I watch him turn toward the back of his trunk and s-l-o-w-l-y meanders back to his trunk. When he gets there, he reaches in and pulls out a cap.
He places it on his head. Moves it around a bit. Takes it back off. Then back on. He moves it left and right until it has the perfect fit. Shuts the trunk and slowly wanders over to the passenger side. Puts his key in and locks the door. Then walks back to his drivers side and does the same.
I am still wondering why he is parked in front of my house. Is he coming to visit me? I am not sure I am in the mood for this man's visit.
I am relieved to watch him walk nextdoor to my neighbor's house.
They are not at home.
Three minutes later, I see the old man slowly walking back to his car. I can't bare to watch him slowly repeat the same process all over again. I peek with just one eye hidden behind my hands.
He has driven off.
Aging. The slowing down process. He has more than enough time to go where he is going.
I whispered: "be safe". I have this feeling ... he is.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Being Tormented by the "C" Word
Chiggers!
At first I thought they were mosquito bites down by my ankles. Then these red, hard welts began to surface and as my agony grew, so did the red hard welts. I lost count on my legs... my arms had quite a few, including my arm pits and other places where it's not polite to scratch, and, as far north as near my eyebrows and top of my head.
I looked them up under google and they are a frightening lot. They are so small, I am relieved I can't see them penetrating my skin and sucking my skin tissue as though sucking through a straw. They say there is no creature alive that can cause more torment for its size than the chigger.
Brenda says she has never seen so many chigger bites on a person before, reminding me she has lived in Texas all of her life.
The other night, I met friends at a fun restaurant called Joe T. Garcia's in Forth Worth. It's this old house with a swimming pool in the backyard and we were seated at a table next to the pool. I took the seat next to the shrubs so I could get a better view of the pool while we sat and ate. I believe that was where the chiggers started their attack.
It is the third day. And they say the itching can continue up to 10 days and longer.
Excuse me... while I excuse myself, to go scratch . . . .
Monday, July 25, 2005
A New Beginning
I LOVE summer vacations. I think everyone should experience some sort of 'get-away' during the summer.
I am in New Symrna Beach, Florida looking out over the Atlantic Ocean this very minute. I see so many walkers on the beach with their arms pumping up and down, they look more like marionettes than human beings. I have been here five days. Later this afternoon, I drive into Orlando to celebrate a friend's birthday and then fly to Dallas in the morning where I will visit more friends for another five days or so.
This is a wonderful break for me. I am not allowing myself to worry what I will do when I return back home.
A couple of days before I left, the start-up company I was working on with two friends ended for me. It really caught me off-guard. It happened so suddenly. Just three weekends ago, we talked of putting me on salary and stock options. And then the business plan suddenly turned on its heals and now going in a different direction. A direction far from my illustrations I was hired to do. They said, "we're going to put you on pause for a year." On pause.
Instead, I am fast-forwarding ahead with my life.
I do not feel afraid. I feel safe. Despite these sudden changes, I still believe I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life right now. That's all I know. I don't know what that means. I can't imagine what my future holds for me. I turned a year older two days ago.
It's a good time for a new beginning.
I am in New Symrna Beach, Florida looking out over the Atlantic Ocean this very minute. I see so many walkers on the beach with their arms pumping up and down, they look more like marionettes than human beings. I have been here five days. Later this afternoon, I drive into Orlando to celebrate a friend's birthday and then fly to Dallas in the morning where I will visit more friends for another five days or so.
This is a wonderful break for me. I am not allowing myself to worry what I will do when I return back home.
A couple of days before I left, the start-up company I was working on with two friends ended for me. It really caught me off-guard. It happened so suddenly. Just three weekends ago, we talked of putting me on salary and stock options. And then the business plan suddenly turned on its heals and now going in a different direction. A direction far from my illustrations I was hired to do. They said, "we're going to put you on pause for a year." On pause.
Instead, I am fast-forwarding ahead with my life.
I do not feel afraid. I feel safe. Despite these sudden changes, I still believe I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in my life right now. That's all I know. I don't know what that means. I can't imagine what my future holds for me. I turned a year older two days ago.
It's a good time for a new beginning.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Karma Fed me Burgers
Topic: Karma for www.illustrationfriday.com
I have always believe in Karma. I haven't always seen it's fruition, but I suppose it's a lot like faith. You sustain from things in the hope that you won't suffer from it later on in life.
I have known people in business who are just contaminated in lies and deceit. Their only purpose is to destroy the little guys so they could get ahead. I keep waiting and watching for Karma to come for them, but so far, all I can see is more lives destroyed and they continue on bulldozing everyone in their path reaching to new heights of success. Perhaps they are suffering in other ways I do not see.
A few years ago, I ordered a kid's meal at a fast food restaurant. When I got to the window to receive my order, the teenager handed me bags and bags of burgers, fries and onion rings and drink containers filled with soft drinks, juices and shakes. I kept handing them over to the passenger in my car, who sat in stunned silence, taking the bags and setting them all on her lap and at her feet on the floor.
As we drove off, (admittedly, I lurched forward with excess speed, as though I was the get-away car in a local robbery). She asked my why I took all that food knowing it wasn't mine.
I shouted, "KARMA!!!"
I truly believed Karma paid me a visit. I said, "It was for all the times I drove off and never received my fries or coke I ordered!!! It's PAY BACK TIME Baby! PAY BACK!!"
We drove in silence some more while she rummaged through all the bags... like looking for the small token in a cracker jack box.
She came up empty-handed and spoke up. "Ya know, maybe if you alerted the kid you didn't order all this awful food, your good karma would have continued on and your reward would have been greater. It seems to me, that you just cashed in.. and all you got were these lousy burgers."
"you just cashed in. YOU JUST CASHED IN. you just cashed in". I heard her words over and over in my head. All my life, I sought out to be a good person and this is my reward to show for it.
We drove in silence for an even longer time.
Lesson learned.
I believe I live a very blessed life and good things happen to me on a daily basis. By taking all that food didn't necessarily set me up for any badness to come my way. But I know that fairness and honesty is always the best choice to make in every situation.
I think I felt Karma in the backseat patting me on the back...
Saturday, July 9, 2005
Staying the Night at Nana's
(www.illustrationfriday.com) theme: metropolitan
I remember sleeping over at my grandmother's home in San Francisco with my brother and sister.
I LOVED my grandmother. After dinner, we'd play blackjack betting with nickels and pennies. And, just before bedtime, she would fix us a nightcap of warm milk sprinkled with nutmeg while she made her own adult nightcap.
We'd lay out our sleeping bags on her living room floor and I would place my bag underneath the window and look out to the evening sky and often times the wind would whip the telephone wires so loudly, it would scare me half to death.
My older sister was always the first one to wake up in the morning. And if I woke up before she did, I would lay still and pretend I was asleep until she got up.
We drank our first cups of coffee at Nana's before I reached the third grade. She didn't seem bothered she was stunting our growth. It was delicious drinking it with spoonfuls of sugar and half milk.
I will always remember laying there in my green sleeping bag with the deer pattern inside, looking out the window, while Nana dug in her black purse for a couple of dollars to buy donuts for our breakfast. She would give it to Kelly and I could hear the front door shut and her little shoes slapping down the stairs and out into what I thought was the Big Scary City. I knew if I woke up first, she would ask me to walk down the hill to the bakery, but I was too afraid to do it alone.
I'd lay there on the floor, looking out the window ... praying for her safe return with the donuts.
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
My Own Feeling of Paralysis
My childhood friend's father is dying of cancer. His cancer has now paralyzed him from the waist down. My sister, a nurse, said she went to visit him yesterday and his eyes looked set in like little bird eyes.
Like ... little bird eyes.
I can't seem to get that description out of my head. She said, "He's scared, Shawn. He doesn't think he has two months to live and he doesn't want to be bitter about it, as he had a good life. You should go see him. He asked all about you... "
I was so touched by that. I DO want to go see him.
He was a barber all his life. Annette was an only child. And every Monday while in elementary school, on his day off, he would bring her a hot hamburger, steaming fries and a coke from a local hamburger place. I was so envious! A typical lunch for me, would have been a bologna sandwich, an orange, cookies and some chips or grapes. We rarely ever had the luxury of eating at a fast food restaurant.
I'd wait with her in front of our school and she would always share her fries with me. Her dad always drove up in his green dodge truck. She now owns that truck. It must have a million miles on it by now. She learned to drive in that truck.. long before she was old enough to get her license. I was a year and a half older, so when I got my drivers license at 16, and her parents went out to dinner, we'd sneak off in that truck to a new neighborhood being built where just the streets were paved and I taught her to drive.
Over the years, we grew up and apart... (I have seen her only a handful of times since high school) ... but I will always treasure the memories we made in our growing up years.
That truck took us everywhere with it's camper shell on top. She and I would lay on top of the bed above the truck's cab and tell stories and listen to her transistor radio playing "Hotel California" and "Cats in the Cradle" on her transistor radio.
That truck took us to South Lake Tahoe, where we slept in that cold camper in the Harvey's Casino parking lot in the snow. I was 12 years old. I remember laying there under blankets with my jacket on for added warmth and her mother said, "we better blow out the kerosine lamp before we get affixiated." It was the first time I heard the word "affixiated". The way it sounded to my ears and the way it felt in my mouth when I said it was just so much fun. I repeated it inside my head the rest of the weekend so I would memorize that word so I could use it sometime. And, I HAVE used it. And, it still makes me smile. Just like when I say "dilapidated". Dilapidated. Dilapidated. -- The way my tongue moves all over my mouth. And the sound of it is just so cute. I must stop. The enjoyment is enormous.
The following morning, I learned to snow ski at Heavenly Valley .... snow-plowing down the hills. Her parents took the tram up to the top of the hill and met us to take pictures. They slipped all over the snow in their tennis shoes. I felt embarrassed and worried everyone would think they were *my* parents. But I loved them. And they would have made nice parents. I still feel a tinge of pain when I remember my embarrassment toward them.
That truck took us to Disneyland for my first time just before the 8th grade. We stayed at the Jolly Rogers Motel in Room 212. I would also vacation with them up north in a seaside town called Anchor Bay.
I watched The Wizard of Oz in color on their TV for the first time. And, when Annette grew out of her Adidas tennis shoes with the blue stripes... she gave them to me, and I wore them proudly.
I will never forget one night, spending the night at her house, and we laid in her big, double bed and watched, endlessly, the Prisoners of War unboarding the airplanes from the end of the Vietnam War. She wore braces and had the neck gear. I remember seeing all these teeny, tiny rubber bands on her pillow.
We'd stare up at the screen searching for their names as they scrolled down while hundreds -- thousands of soldiers limped and walked down the steps in their fresh crewcuts. In case we forgot, we'd stare back down at our oversized, metal POW bracelets dangling on our wrists, hoping their names would appear, ... but ... they never did.
I DO want to visit her dad. I miss his laugh. The way he would throw his head back and grab his stomach to feel it wiggle as he laughed hard and long. I want to thank him for introducing me to so many wonderful adventures.
It hurts that I'm afraid to drive to the hospital. Park my car. Walk into the lobby, take the elevator up a certain floor. Walk down the hall and then turn into his room and say, "remember me? You took me to Disneyland when I was 12-years-old".
I feel immobilized.
I need to get past my own feeling of paralysis. Once I do, I will be happy I did. I feel small and belittled in admitting, it takes a lot of guts for me to drive down to that hospital to visit him. I hope I will be able to tell you that I did visit him. He introduced me to a lot of "first time experiences" as a young child. I would like to extend it to him in visiting him.
Oh, I pray that I can.
Like ... little bird eyes.
I can't seem to get that description out of my head. She said, "He's scared, Shawn. He doesn't think he has two months to live and he doesn't want to be bitter about it, as he had a good life. You should go see him. He asked all about you... "
I was so touched by that. I DO want to go see him.
He was a barber all his life. Annette was an only child. And every Monday while in elementary school, on his day off, he would bring her a hot hamburger, steaming fries and a coke from a local hamburger place. I was so envious! A typical lunch for me, would have been a bologna sandwich, an orange, cookies and some chips or grapes. We rarely ever had the luxury of eating at a fast food restaurant.
I'd wait with her in front of our school and she would always share her fries with me. Her dad always drove up in his green dodge truck. She now owns that truck. It must have a million miles on it by now. She learned to drive in that truck.. long before she was old enough to get her license. I was a year and a half older, so when I got my drivers license at 16, and her parents went out to dinner, we'd sneak off in that truck to a new neighborhood being built where just the streets were paved and I taught her to drive.
Over the years, we grew up and apart... (I have seen her only a handful of times since high school) ... but I will always treasure the memories we made in our growing up years.
That truck took us everywhere with it's camper shell on top. She and I would lay on top of the bed above the truck's cab and tell stories and listen to her transistor radio playing "Hotel California" and "Cats in the Cradle" on her transistor radio.
That truck took us to South Lake Tahoe, where we slept in that cold camper in the Harvey's Casino parking lot in the snow. I was 12 years old. I remember laying there under blankets with my jacket on for added warmth and her mother said, "we better blow out the kerosine lamp before we get affixiated." It was the first time I heard the word "affixiated". The way it sounded to my ears and the way it felt in my mouth when I said it was just so much fun. I repeated it inside my head the rest of the weekend so I would memorize that word so I could use it sometime. And, I HAVE used it. And, it still makes me smile. Just like when I say "dilapidated". Dilapidated. Dilapidated. -- The way my tongue moves all over my mouth. And the sound of it is just so cute. I must stop. The enjoyment is enormous.
The following morning, I learned to snow ski at Heavenly Valley .... snow-plowing down the hills. Her parents took the tram up to the top of the hill and met us to take pictures. They slipped all over the snow in their tennis shoes. I felt embarrassed and worried everyone would think they were *my* parents. But I loved them. And they would have made nice parents. I still feel a tinge of pain when I remember my embarrassment toward them.
That truck took us to Disneyland for my first time just before the 8th grade. We stayed at the Jolly Rogers Motel in Room 212. I would also vacation with them up north in a seaside town called Anchor Bay.
I watched The Wizard of Oz in color on their TV for the first time. And, when Annette grew out of her Adidas tennis shoes with the blue stripes... she gave them to me, and I wore them proudly.
I will never forget one night, spending the night at her house, and we laid in her big, double bed and watched, endlessly, the Prisoners of War unboarding the airplanes from the end of the Vietnam War. She wore braces and had the neck gear. I remember seeing all these teeny, tiny rubber bands on her pillow.
We'd stare up at the screen searching for their names as they scrolled down while hundreds -- thousands of soldiers limped and walked down the steps in their fresh crewcuts. In case we forgot, we'd stare back down at our oversized, metal POW bracelets dangling on our wrists, hoping their names would appear, ... but ... they never did.
I DO want to visit her dad. I miss his laugh. The way he would throw his head back and grab his stomach to feel it wiggle as he laughed hard and long. I want to thank him for introducing me to so many wonderful adventures.
It hurts that I'm afraid to drive to the hospital. Park my car. Walk into the lobby, take the elevator up a certain floor. Walk down the hall and then turn into his room and say, "remember me? You took me to Disneyland when I was 12-years-old".
I feel immobilized.
I need to get past my own feeling of paralysis. Once I do, I will be happy I did. I feel small and belittled in admitting, it takes a lot of guts for me to drive down to that hospital to visit him. I hope I will be able to tell you that I did visit him. He introduced me to a lot of "first time experiences" as a young child. I would like to extend it to him in visiting him.
Oh, I pray that I can.
Friday, July 1, 2005
The Rings
Today is my first Friday to ever participate in Illustration Friday.
http://illustrationfriday.com
The topic is SPORT.
I drew this, because it's how I'm feeling right now. I have been working from home for 10 months now. The warm days and evenings are inviting me outside to come and play. But I need to sit at the computer and work. Today, I am feeling out of touch with everyone and eveything that brings me joy.
When I was a child, I was never able to swing from Ring to Ring at school. Just weak arms, I suppose. I would leap from the steal bar and grab them and swing to catch the next ring and then the next.. and then I would just hang there, holding on to two rings before I had to let it go.
Today I want to be a good sport. To focus on the goal and not let the rings get in my way.
See the illustration? It's not me letting go. It's me jumping up to reach them and trying again.
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