hopeful romantics

we don't know until we try

2011-11-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

sometimes you need to just go and do the damn thing. maybe you don't have enough money. maybe you're not prepared. maybe you will be short on resources. but fuck it. go. do that thing that's been bouncing in the back of your brain, making it hard to focus on what's at hand. your hands are nimble and want to be filled. fill them. put tools in them. if you don't have tools, build them. carve things out of trees. fashion things out of stone. the thing about putting yourself in the eye of the storm is you no longer have a choice, fight for your life, or die. in the middle of an impetuous sea, you will find a way to shore. we want to live. put yourself in a position where your life is threatened, and you will be made immediately aware of this. the determination to wake to another day. the desire of the heart to keep beating. hold your breath and your lungs burn with the will to keep breathing.

I just had the privilege of being a part of a big leap of faith. hands held, we all jumped! a group of talented and curious people searching for something to fill their hunger, decided it was time to be their own source of nourishment. when there is no food, you have to go hunting. so that's what we did. we had an idea and we actually did something with it. it is an honor to see that when it happens, no matter what the outcome. so many things burst and fade within the walls of our skulls. the courage to take those sparks and build a fire and sit in that burning, to be consumed by the flames -- it is truly a beautiful thing to see. we all came with our own reasons, our own struggles and expectations, and we all left changed. knowing you can do it, that's what we are hoping to learn. we over complicate it, like most things. but really I think it's that simple, we want to know that we can do it. we waste so much time wondering. we don't know until we try.

so here's to making shit. in this case, a movie shot in arkansas. one giant group hug of an effort. I will keep you posted on its progress...

a story in story, arkansas

2011-10-20T15:17:00.000-07:00

this is david church. he was born on october 27, 1924. he owns 10 acres of land here in story, arkansas. I met him today while I was eating a cheeseburger at the bluebell cafe. he had come in to cure his lonely with a cup of coffee and two little debbie honey buns. his wife of many more years than I have been alive, was lost to cancer a little over a year ago. he talked with me about the adventures they had together and shared how hard it has been living without her. my heart swelled and ached simultaneously. I was blessed by his openness. I was blessed to be a witness to his story. everyone has their story. there is so much to gain in just sitting and listening. I was lucky enough today to ask someone willing to share. david was lucky enough to find a little more than coffee and honey buns waiting for him at the cafe.

breathing by bethany ann toews

2011-10-19T09:24:00.000-07:00

sometimes it's all you can do. sometimes there are shards of glass floating in the air, mixed in with the food you eat, stuck into the clothes you wear, falling like endless reminders from the sky, settling into your scalp, getting in your eyes. in times like these, you just breath. it's the simplest and most difficult of tasks. it's necessary first of all. if you can't manage this much, you can't live. you must live. breath. keep breathing. pain is just a sensation. pain means something new and better is trying to live. let it live in you. let it grow. trust in this process, it is all there is. it is enough. it is more than enough. you are and always have been enough. breath.

love love

2011-10-08T13:17:00.001-07:00

if you're doing something and it's really hard and really scary, it's probably a good sign you're doing the right thing (unless you're learning how to juggle for the first time using flaming axes -- then I'd say that's another story). but as my brilliant friend jamie said, usually it is in the areas where we have the most to offer, the deepest capacity to give, that we are the most afraid to go. why is it? us silly humans, afraid of our potential? it's incredible really, the mind games we so expertly play, convincing ourselves not to head down the path that we ourselves have laid with hoping and dreaming. maybe we're afraid of what will be left after the wanting has been met? maybe we are afraid we won't be able to take enough naps?

I know the lullaby of taking the easy route, I know how I have let myself be rocked to sleep for years at a time. I know what is at stake -- holding yourself accountable for all you are capable of -- them ain't no small potaters folks. we are ALL so capable of SO MUCH. that's a lot of work and responsibility to take on. it is nice to watch mindless television. it is nice to eat one too many pieces of pie. it is easier to put our hopes and fears in someone else brave enough to face the music. but inside, our blood and our bones are dancing and our skin is crawling to let it all out and we get weird rashes and we lose sleep or sleep too much or have diarrhea or cry when dogs bark at us. we're all learning how to live with so much feeling, so much longing, so much confusion on how to find our way to happiness. but what we're all really dealing with is the overwhelming fact that nothing is permanent -- that is a thought that is so hard and so painful for our grasping hands to hold.

you can love something with everything you have and eventually you will lose it and it will break your heart. you will have to start over. you will struggle with feeling like a 5'7" newborn baby. the pain will make you lose yourself for a bit... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

but then! you find yourself again! and you can't believe your eyes! you are gorgeous! gorgeous! still breathing! still believing in the process of life. still trusting that you know what you're doing even though you also know you don't really have a clue about anything. you keep going, 'cause that's what the trees and the birds and the wind are doing. you just keep going. you smile at strangers and you open your heart to everyone you meet and you accept that some people aren't ready to receive you, but the ones that are, with shiny eyes and equally open hearts, will constantly remind you of the gift of getting to share this experience with each other.

I believe there are blessings hidden in every bombed building, there is something to extract from the rubble and I suspect that if nothing else, it is simply the will to love. to keep loving no matter how hard that is sometimes, no matter how much it hurts or confuses or disappoints. to just keep loving, because I suspect that when it's time to take your last breath, you're not thinking about all the csi episodes you're gonna miss, but about whether or not you loved everything and everyone with everything you had.

night rainbow

2011-09-20T10:17:00.001-07:00

a feeling takes form when you give it a name. I have been feeling many feelings lately, and in the state of feeling so much feeling, I have contemplated what it is to feel. I have explored the multi-colored rooms of sensation and emotion. I have noticed how you can feel seemingly contradictory things within the same emotion-- the pleasure of longing, the pain of laughing too hard, the fear of getting what you want. we are complicated creatures. thank the heavens for music. in this time of intense feeling, I find music is like a warm hug of belonging on cold lonely nights.

two nights ago I found a name for a feeling: night rainbow. I am currently sequestered up north in a cabin in the sawtooth mountains. I am here to face my fears. I am hiding up here so that I may finally learn how to stop hiding. I am here to make music, and then to share that music and hope that it serves as a warm hug of belonging for someone else. I am here with my friend and collaborator, jaffe zinn, and so far so awesome. I am enjoying the ride of elation to frustration within minutes of each other. we work well together, and that comes as a big relief to both of us. it's not an easy thing to find. collaboration at its finest, pulling out the best of each part, making something wholly better than you could have alone.

the other night at the end of a long day, we stepped outside into the darkness to discover what I could only name a night rainbow. glowing around the moon, a rainbow of light. it seemed too perfect for how we were feeling and what we were doing. finding the colors in the dark. and so the name was formed for our collaboration. and now, a little peak of our night rainbow.

Capsized by Night Rainbow

like what you hear? pitch in or pass it on!

CLICK HERE PLEASE!

much love,
b

10 things I learned last night

2011-09-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

feeling lost? wanna find yourself? I suggest you head out into the desert alone in the middle of the night with no cell reception and drive with only your headlights guiding you through a torrential hail and lighting storm. that's what I did last night. here are a few things I learned:

1. fear is a temporary feeling you can push through
2. you can never really see what's ahead, it's good to practice getting comfortable with that
3. you are braver than you let yourself be most of the time
4. music is like medicine on dark lonely nights (and pretty much all other times too)
5. lighting is beautiful at a distance and terrifying up close, but it's still the same lighting
6. your mind will tell you to stop long before you need to
7. the consequence of doing what scares you, is that you become aware of your power
8. it's good to remember yourself before there were cellphones
9. it's perfectly ok to give yourself a pep talk, out loud
10. we are only as lonely as we let ourselves be

help me!

2011-09-13T21:48:00.001-07:00

I am awake

2011-09-11T05:31:00.000-07:00

I am awake. it is dark outside. I want so badly to pick up the phone and call someone right now, but I am giving them the space they need. so I let the space spread like an inky blot, I surround myself with its blackness. what doesn't kill you...

we love, we love hard. sometimes that love takes form as the perfect and pure thing it was intended. sometimes it gets distorted, filtered through fear and doubt and selfishness. the intention alone is not enough. we must watch that love like a hawk. we must constantly take stock, is my love being expressed as love, or has it been cleverly disguised as disappointment or judgement? is my fear of loss turning my love into a hard ball instead of a soft hug? it's easy to become very convinced that what we are doing is right, in response to so much wrong done upon us. but then sometimes a gift, in the disguise of a gut punch, forces you to realize you might be the one to blame for all your dissatisfaction. maybe the love you'd been missing was there all along and it was you that was shutting it out, calling it by another name. maybe you were too busy sinking into the vicious pit of self pity to notice that what you were wanting was right in front of you all along. ah to be a victim, it can feel so juicy, so victorious in its twisted way. but how is the world to respond to someone who feels so unjustly treated? all the blessings bestowed upon your head, tossed aside and dismissed as one more example of how you just have it so much rougher than you should. I am trying to stay with the fact that remains, I am lucky to be here. I am lucky to love, even when loving leaves you sick to your stomach in the middle of the night.

here is something I have been sitting with these past few days: strength is the softest thing you will find. strength is softer than a bunnies tail. strength is not hard like I have been thinking for too long now. I want to soften. I want to open wide and say aaaaaaah. I want to let it all in and have faith that it won't destroy me. I want to trust. I want to let down these walls that I've convinced myself were protecting me, when it is clear now, all they have done is keep me away from the one thing I am wanting--love.

here's to staying soft and open and loving like you mean it.

perhaps this will make sense to someone?

2011-08-19T16:37:00.000-07:00

yesterday on the phone with my friend jamie, while engaging in one of our usual meaning-of-life-weight-of-the-universe conversations, I said, "life is just a series of days. are we enjoying each one?" she told me to write it down, maybe even share it. this is me writing it down. this is me sharing it.

and it's true, life in all the things it is, is just a series of days. and so I ask myself, am I doing my part to enjoy each one? and yes, there it is, the cliché that can only be so because it is dripping with pertinence, with truth and necessity. (how strange that we dismiss something because it is said too much-- perhaps it is said with frequency for a reason?!) it is when I forget the importance of taking it day by day, step by step (ooh baby), that I start to suffer. it is when I blow it all up into this grotesque form, too large to face, too heavy to carry, that I feel like I can't "take it". life is so many things we can't know or understand. why spend all our glorious time here floating in the abyss when we could be splashing in the waves-- the place where the infinite meets land? sometimes it feels right to float, but is it also good to have something solid beneath your feet. and we're back where we (or at least I) started, keeping it simple (another invaluable "cliché") . taking a walk, being glad you are able. enjoying the sky in all its endless incarnations (it never fails to amaze me, a sky! above my head!), eating a piece of fruit that came from a tree, I repeat, eating a sweet and delicious treat that grows on trees! (how have we ceased to marvel at such things?!), talking to someone, perhaps familiar or strange, showing them the kindness that is always coursing through your heart.

I have been nervous lately, people seem tense, waiting to burst, to yell or shoot someone in the face. I want the world to sing the lullaby that always hums in the quiet spaces-- the spaces in between the wanting and the having. I want to sing it for others, when they have lost the ability to hear it themselves, when it seems the world has become a cruel place designed for their personal torment. I know how it feels to see it that way. I also know what it feels like to be completely and utterly helpless to the wonder that is getting to be here. (said slowly) we...get...to...be...here! why? we don't know. but, we are here! and while we are here, we get days to play with. we get measurements of time to spend growing or shrinking as much as we please (or don't please). we get seasons to change and challenge the nature of what is possible. we have so much and never enough. we get to ask, and not know the answer. yes, that seems like a lot for a human to handle, but we've been handling it for so long and despite how awful the news reports are, I would like to believe that we are more good than evil, that we hope more than we despair, that we are more interested in sharing than possessing. I choose to believe that, because that's the world I want to live in. as long as I am here, I want to try my hardest to enjoy it.

icky sticky

2011-04-20T14:35:00.001-07:00

unsticking yourself can be sticky when you're feeling stuck. I feel stuck. there it is. the first step taken with my bubble gum soul. it's hard to move through this feeling. I see the other side. there is a cool breeze blowing, whispering a welcome to me, "come to the other side, you'd feel better once you got here". but here I stand, eyes gazing, mouth agape, stuck. what it is exactly? this feeling. the desire to move mashed up against the overwhelming feeling that I can't. I have a reoccurring dream that I need to run but my legs will only move in slow motion as impending doom races towards me. a failure to survive. a failure to thrive. all I want to do is thrive. to jive walk my way into a room full of awesome. to shine like a light that's been waiting for years to do its thing. building building building...burning bright. I feel like a light bulb left in the dark.

I am my own worst enemy. no one is to blame. chew on that one young lady.

I want the freedom that comes with movement. movement away from the bullshit I've been believing for too long. movement towards the truth that is always humming in my head but is drown out by the cacophony of lies I surround myself with. I need to be able to find peace and quiet inside, even in the middle of a busy street. I need to quit finding excuses, quit laying blame, quit being lame. I want to feel different, be different, act different, live different. I want to do the things I say and say the things I do. I want I want I need I need me me me KABOOOOM!!! destruction. ashes. a seed. some sunlight. some rain. some oxygen... me, still here, still growing, still trying. that's all I can do.

what's a captain without a crew?

2011-02-21T20:32:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty good at giving; I learned that from my mom. one thing that I am not so good at is receiving; I think I learned that from my dad. I left home at 18. I remember the first time I got the flu away from home, never had having a mother seemed so valuable as when I was puking alone. being on your own hardens you, it makes you tough. growing up, my father held the aura of a man who had survived alone in the woods for years--I wanted to be that man. so when it was time, I went out into my own woods, I fed and clothed and sheltered myself. I kept myself company many lonely nights, trying to ignore the scary sounds that hide in the dark.

and here I am, over a decade since I had my mom to feed and comfort me or my dad to keep me safe. I have taken care of myself, for that I am proud. but I am starting to think I may have over-corrected. tonight it struck me how alone I still feel, even though I have a loving boyfriend and family and many incredible friends. while making my bed tonight I was overwhelmed with how many times I have completed that act in the silence of an empty apartment. something about it saddened me so deeply. something made me long for another person to help me fluff the comforter like I know my mother would have.

there is tremendous strength in giving. I enjoy giving to others. I like knowing that in my own way I can help others with the unavoidable difficulty of life. but then, when I am in need of such comfort, I find I don't ask for it, or allow for it to enter into my space. in all my desire to be tough, I have forgotten the incredible grace that lies in softening. to be self-reliant is commendable, but to be open to other's care takes even more strength. there is a vulnerability to letting yourself depend on someone that takes a lot of courage. I think I have proven that if I had to, I could survive on my own. it's good to know that. I needed to know that. but, I am not on my own, and it's nice to have someone help you when you're tired of helping yourself.

mad dancers

2011-02-06T14:43:00.000-08:00

be willing to risk that the world may not hear the music to which you dance--you may appear as a crazy person, but that's no reason to stop dancing. as long as you hear music, dance.

how to pack for a mystery

2011-01-30T13:23:00.000-08:00

it is raining outside and my heater is broken and I am happy as can be. I am camping out on my bed. I am wearing a warm hat, wool socks, sweatpants and a big sweater my boyfriend gave me. with me on this quilted island I have everything I could possibly need: books, a journal, my guitar and a cup of tea. I'm not leaving until I have a story to tell.

lately I have been craving adventure. the other day I ran into my friend john, he was wearing a marvelous new hat. he said "hello" and then warned that he might smell weird - he had literally just returned from an 8 day journey and was as yet unshowered. he smelled fine. when I asked the nature of his trip, he told me a wonderful tale. a friend of his had told him to be at the airport at 7am and to bring a passport, no other details were given. so when john's alarm went off at 5:15am, he gathered his things completely unaware of what laid ahead.

how does one pack for a mystery?

he settled on the clothes he was wearing, a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, two t-shirts, two pairs of underwear, flip flops, echinacea, toothpaste, a toothbrush, chapstick, a murakami novel, a journal, sunglasses, and one packet of space ice cream (just in case). upon arriving at the airport, he was told by his friend that they would be flying to buenos aires. and so they did, and they had an awe-inspiring time ripe with rooftop sunsets and intoxicated bus rides and hot norwegian girls.

while listening to him, I couldn't help but notice the pulling in my gut for such an experience. why didn't I have a friend buying me a ticket to buenos aires? why didn't I just arrive from an exciting place with these stories to tell? and then it hit me, running into john that day was my adventure. I don't have to go somewhere to experience life. yes, traveling can pry open otherwise sleepy eyes, but I can just as easily force them open with my awareness. I can board a plane or stay in bed, it doesn't matter, as long as I give whatever I am doing my full attention. my life, wherever I am, is the adventure, all I need do is live it.

without you, there'd be no sundae

2011-01-28T08:17:00.001-08:00

he left again this morning. you would think that it had little effect on me anymore, but no matter how many times (and oh there have been many) that I have kissed him goodbye and said "come home soon", the soon feels so far away, like some impossible goal. he is going to japan this time, and australia. I am going to be here, like usual, keeping our apartment anchored to the earth. while he flies, I will do my best to stay grounded. yesterday he was telling a friend on the phone how lately life for him has felt like one cherry after another is falling on top of his sundae. it's scary almost, just when you think it couldn't get better, a fatter and juicier cherry flops on the sundae. I told him this morning when the alarm went off, myself already awake in the dark, that I felt like I was once the biggest cherry on that sundae, but it was hard now to compete with all the excitement that was swirling around like caramel in his sweet life. he got still and I could feel him thinking, and then he wrapped me in his arms and said, "no, you're the bowl, without you, there'd be no sundae."

he(art)

2011-01-17T22:58:00.000-08:00

don't use art to get love. don't use your tits or your pouty wet lips either. don't use your eyes and their slow blinking lashes. don't use tired eyes for that matter. don't use lies or excuses, or half-arsed proclamations you may mean at one moment but won't in another. don't use anything but your red banging drum of a heart. let that be the one and only thing you use to get love. then you can use art to talk about that love or the loss of that love or the longing for that love or the crippling strangling fear of that love. only then can you call it art.

dear future me

2010-11-20T21:46:00.000-08:00

yesterday I wrote my future self an email. it ended with "I am proud of you in advance. love, b"

my hope is that when future me receives this email sent by present me, she is happy. that is really all. whatever that means-- rich, poor, famous, forgotten, I just hope she's happy. in the email I talked about her obnoxious laugh, how it's really too loud for most people, and how I hope she still has it. I hope that if nothing else, I go down as the girl who laughed a little too loudly for other people's comfort. I am not here to make things comfortable. I am here to make things better. there is a difference. I hope I am doing the latter. I could always be doing more. but I think I am doing a pretty good job.

it's such a struggle, to stay here, with present me, to not fall for future me and all that she has finally figured out. but under the strain of learning, I hope my face scrunched up would appear as a smile to a passerby. I am trying to find the joy in the toiling. sometimes I even manage to forget how difficult that can be.

outside my window

2010-11-10T15:36:00.000-08:00

outside my window, someone is beating an egg. I brush my teeth and wonder if they will be eating their breakfast alone. we live in solitary stacks. late at night I hear the clicking of typewriter keys. I am impressed. it pushes me to stay a little longer at my piano keys. we live side by side alone. who are these people sharing my water pipes? who is hiding behind these walls? perhaps I will go knocking...

and again the question forms in my quiet thoughts, are we supposed to go it alone? the valor of a solo flight vs. the pleasure of a party boat. I suppose as with everything, there is a point somewhere in the middle worth finding. I can't blame anyone else for my failings, but I can thank many for their help along the way. sometimes it's as simple as knowing they are there to make you a sandwich on the days things don't go so great. but ultimately, I need to take comfort in knowing I am the only fan I need. the only co-pilot on this flight is my faith in myself, everything else is just cocktails and peanuts. oh I know I've said these things before, but just as soon as I've forgotten them.

*originally written 7/26/2010

we are here!

2010-10-02T01:53:00.001-07:00

I'm glad I don't know what I'm doing. I mean, I really believe that once I "figure it out" I will turn to star dust and return to the endless sky. I'm here to wonder. to not know what the f word is going on half the time. to get frustrated and sad and confused and angry, and then, to stick it out because I know what it feels like to laugh.

oh what a joy, to feel! and what is a feeling but a friendly reminder that we are here. WE ARE HERE! wha?!

I'm just gonna keep on feeling, and you know what else? I'm gonna talk about all those feelings! I'm gonna spell it out for anyone willing to listen. I'm going to put on a show on the street corner. I'm gonna say what's really going on when asked, "how ya doin?"

I love you world. I want to be close to you. I want to give you a key to my secret garden, who am I to keep it hidden?

throw down your heart, pick up a banjo

2010-10-01T23:49:00.000-07:00

this makes me want to live harder and play more. watch it and smile.

I look up squinting

2010-08-28T21:06:00.000-07:00

it seems lately that my posts (few that they may be) all start with some quip about how I haven't been writing enough. but that my friends, is a lie. I am constantly writing. what I am not writing is blog posts, what I am writing is songs. so many of them dancing about, bouncing off my skull, snuggling in the squishy bits of my brain. I am loving it. I am so deeply caught up in what I really want, that I have forgotten to think of any of the things I might be lacking. there are always things lacking. my fridge is lacking in vegetables, my bed is lacking in companionship, my bank is lacking in funds, blah blah blah.

my heart is so darn full.

my head is bursting with ideas. I am dwelling in possibility. I am too busy playing with the idea of what it is that truly makes me happy, to find time to be sad. oh I know how fragile this state is, how temperamental, how quickly it can turn into an inability to get out of bed. but I hold on to it like an angel hair tied to a big bright balloon backlit by the sun. and I just stand there, holding on, and I look up squinting.

white rhodes is the new black

2010-07-29T16:46:00.001-07:00

I don't believe I have ever wanted (needed) anything so badly. oh you gorgeous white rhodes mark 7 73, you hold all the songs I haven't yet written. come to me. my apartment is waiting for you and me to fill its silence.

last night

2010-06-22T04:04:00.000-07:00

it is 4:04am and I am still awake. calmly I sit in a state of longing. I do not judge it or will it away. I let it tap gently at the gates. a flood awaits.

eventually my lids will tire, but my mind will not--I will let sleep work through the tangles. in the morning I will awake to the gift of one more day. I am better today than the day before and tomorrow I will be better still--but I was enough yesterday. and today? today I have already succeeded--I am here.

I like this

2010-06-21T11:57:00.000-07:00

18 rules for living by the dalai lama

Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
Follow the three Rs:
1. Respect for self
2. Respect for others
3. Responsibility for all your actions.
Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.
Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly.
Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship.
When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.
Spend some time alone every day.
Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Live a good, honourable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.
A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.
In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.
Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality.
Be gentle with the earth.
Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.
Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.
Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

our planetary hearts

2010-06-19T12:57:00.000-07:00

my super hero heart
your kryptonite eyes
let's create a world together and save it
let's fly away from what we've known
let's pull our minds from the burning buildings of doubt
fall into me as I fall into you and physics will keep us afloat
take off your pants and show me your tights
let's use our powers to return to the stars
we forget too much in the blaze of these city lights
let's remember that night
let's remember that night
I believe in that night
your laser beam gaze
my super human strength
I know we can make a world worth saving
no distance is too great for the speed of light
let's fly away from what we've known
let's pull our minds from the burning buildings of doubt
fall into me as I fall into you and faith will keep us afloat
I will believe in you like the earth believes in its orbit
I won't fight the pull of our planetary hearts

well ok then

2010-06-13T01:39:00.000-07:00

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time. This expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it.

It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.

No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.

~Martha Graham

a cookie once told me

2010-05-19T22:30:00.001-07:00

a cookie once told me I have the makings of a winner. I believe the cookie.

I started a tumblr, why not follow me? fun times ahead...

love is the only sane response

2010-05-13T11:49:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in a cafe in brooklyn when I looked up to see my love in the new york times. I had been missing him, and there he was, in the cafe with me. strange and wonderful.

life is strange and wonderful and exhausting and exhilarating - much like the trip I just returned from. hotel beds and poorly made sandwiches. melting ice cream cakes and cheering fans. long overdue kisses and sitting in traffic. adventure has its toll. I pay it with little complaint (most of the time). I love its blank pages, my pockets full of magic markers. I fed a stray kitten one night on a cold new york city street. I heard david byrne thank local natives for their "amazing" performance. I took a plane to dc and a van to philly and a train from boston and another plane home again. I walked a lot and slept too little. I had a hand to hold for a few days. I had new experiences with old friends and I grew closer with new friends. love was exchanged, on the streets, in the crowd, in a smelly van.

why on earth would we stay in one place when so much awaits us elsewhere? the journey of an inch of a thought of a moment, I traverse small and great distances hoping to find something new, inside and out. every trip is worth taking, even if you don't leave your chair, go there. everything around us is growing, changing, moving - why should we be any different?

this last day of april

2010-04-30T23:55:00.000-07:00

today my friend elaine made up the word beaunicornucopia.

it was that kind of day.

it's been one of those months

2010-04-27T22:22:00.000-07:00

I don't know how to sum up, scratch that, I know how to, but do not want to take the copious amounts of energy it would surely take to sum up the last month or so. let's suffice to say, like any month worth its salt, it has been both wonderful and terrible. I have been in search of bolts of enlightningment, which of course deliver quite the painful zap as they illuminate. I have a tale or two to tell. in due time. for now, I sit and ponder and practice scales on the guitar. I want a new guitar. it is time.

oh, and I discovered very recently that I am, in fact, a jedi warrior. super awesome.

I hope this finds you smiling.

the yearning for good

2010-03-30T15:15:00.001-07:00

I, the fiery light of divine wisdom,

I ignite the beauty of the plains,

I sparkle the waters.

I burn the sun and the moon and the stars,

With wisdom I order all rightly.

I adorn the earth.

I am the breeze that nurtures all things green.

I am the rain coming from the dew

That causes the grasses to laugh

With the joy of life.

I call forth tears, the aroma of holy work.

I am the yearning for good.

~Hildegard of Bingen

recently

2010-03-29T16:34:00.000-07:00

recently I've been experiencing small explosions of inner joy. the quiet kind. soft moments when the light is right. a peaceful sense that I am exactly where I want to be. eyes wide, I move from one now to the next.

south by south mess

2010-03-23T17:24:00.000-07:00

sometimes you drink a little too much whiskey. sometimes you try to start a bar fight with a stranger. sometimes you misplace your frustrations and it takes the intervention of a good friend to step in and keep you from getting your teeth knocked out (thanks jamie).

sxsw is not a time for detoxing. it is a time to sing wilson phillips to your liver. "hold on for one more day" rings through your hazy head as you maneuver through far too many drunk people, and strange people, and half naked people, and hungry people and hopeful people. the chaos in tey-hoss. a love-hate relationship seems in order.

I was there to support this year. I'm not sure if I rose to the occasion. I found myself wanting to hole up and savor that strength for my own endeavors. I didn't want to give it away. I felt like being greedy with my words of encouragement. I felt like singing my own songs. there's only so much singing along you can do when your head is full of its own melodies.

I do what I can, sometimes more, sometimes less. I'm learning the sweet spot in the middle. my happy medium. somewhere between shrinking and exploding, I stand on a stage, illuminated by my own inner spotlight. from there, I will shine.

I saw london, I saw france

2010-03-01T17:15:00.000-08:00

I saw london, I saw france, and I packed just enough pairs of underpants. overall I'd say my trip was a success. adventures had. lessons learned.

trust the plane, trust the pilot

2010-02-28T03:54:00.000-08:00

it's 4am and I am awake. no I have not been out all night dancing. I just woke up. I brushed my teeth and I washed my face in the dark. last night I managed to make it to 9:30 before falling asleep. no I am not 73 years-old. I have jet lag. sleeping in sporadic bursts, feeling tired during the day, crashing while others are eating their dinner. and now it is 4 in the morn and I am wide awake -- a small price to pay for seeing paris on valentine's day.

something I wrote from paris:

it never ceases to amaze me, how easy it is to end up someplace else. one foot in front of the other, airplanes and trains. one connection after the other. 12 wrong turns for every right one, but always getting there in the end. I don't even think I would trust it if I reached my destination on the first try. I take strange comfort in pantomimed directions in foreign tongues, the first few rounds leading me somewhere other than the address in my notepad, but ultimately leading me to the instructions that work. and there I am, a hotel in paris, laughing to myself that I made it. all the walking with heavy bags, all the sardining myself onto tightly packed trains, all the attempts at sleep in awkward positions, all the effort, all the exhaustion, all the frustration... it all falls away and what is left is shock at how very easy it all is. I am here.

and there it is, why I travel -- to gather up lovely little metaphors for the rest of life. and I wonder, why is it when I am home, and I lose my way for a bit, I am not so forgiving? if I can't find my hotel in paris, I keep looking. it bothers me not that I am meandering through the cobble-stoned streets asking strangers to guide me. and yet at home if I take one false step, I get so frustrated with myself, with the street, with the directions or lack thereof. the fact that I'm not there where I intended to be immediately is so upsetting to me. but things aren't supposed to happen immediately. we're supposed to meander. we're supposed to solicit the help of others. we're supposed to take wrong turns in order to discover the lovely little streets we've never seen even though they're right around the corner.

of course these are things we ultimately know, and that's most likely why we subject ourselves to 11 hour plane rides. even though those 11 hours can feel like infinite minutes stuck in a broken clock, even though we allow ourselves occasionally to wonder if we're going to fall from the sky and die in a fiery crash, we still trust in our hearts that the plane with land safely and we will reach our destination. that is why we are there. we trust the plane, and we trust the pilot. so when we are home, why don't we just trust ourselves? as dear ralphie emerson once put it, "If I have lost confidence in myself, I have the universe against me." trust in yourself, and you have the world on your side. trust the plane, trust the pilot.

the victory of a kiss

2010-02-14T06:56:00.000-08:00

if you are reading this, I am in paris, doing this. ah the kiss, such incomparable bliss. my lips traveled 5,661 miles to meet his. I can only imagine how happy they must be at this moment...

I will leave you with this:

I love you between shadow and soul.
I love you as the plant that hasn't bloomed yet, and carries hidden within itself the light of flowers.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
Because of you, the dense fragrance that rises from the earth lives in my body, rioting with hunger for the eternity of our victorious kisses
~Pablo Neruda (translated by Stephen Tapscott)

good things come

2010-02-07T19:49:00.000-08:00

this is what a little patience, a lot of hope, and one really great boyfriend will get you.

we are lucky in our longing

2010-01-31T16:28:00.000-08:00

my lover is on the road.
my lover is in a different time zone.
my lover is lodged in my chest, pointy elbows poking into my ribs, warm whispered I love you's calming my heart.

so this is love? it seems to always come in unexpected packaging. we fell and then he flew away. he returns for what is mind-blowing bliss only to board a plane again. and he is off. and I miss him.

and I thank the heavens for the ache.

and I hear from him at 2 in the morning or 8 in the morning or 5:37 at night or whenever else he gets a free moment from the rise of rock n roll fame.

I fall asleep late and wake early, just hoping to hear his voice, his beautiful voice.

others are starting to fall for him too. for his energy on stage, for his beautiful music, for his magnificent mustache. I asked him the other day if he will still need my love when millions of people love him -- he said that he will need it then, more than ever. I believe him. he also said this:

Our love is an egg, I am a bird. Our love is a ship in the night, I am the watchman on the tower.
You can close your eyes and sleep without worrying, because your heart is safe.

it is hard to miss him so much, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

we are lucky in our longing.

this innerspaceship

2010-01-18T13:03:00.001-08:00

it's all happening now. of course it's always been happening. if only we could have a magical magnifying glass in the times of doubt to help us find the clues that are always surrounding us. if only we could steady our aim, our shaking knees, our wavering minds. if only we could resolve with the calm of the ages that we are getting there, somewhere, ever-moving forward.

of course there are also those times when the signs are everywhere, impossible to ignore. those times can feel so good, so exciting, euphoric even. those times can also feel overwhelming and terrifying, rattling us with a desire for a return to the crib. it is our labor of love to not hide, to not shrink. to delight fully in filling our guts with the proof pudding our hungry hearts have been craving.

a good bit of advice I once gleaned from a hippy dippy video whose title shall go unmentioned due to its eye-rolling overuse, is this: when you have an inspired thought, act on it. I would add to that, act on it immediately. don't let that moment, of what I like to think is clarity, slip into the murkiness of a pot of over-thought self-doubting mumbo gumbo. take steps right at that moment to bring that idea to life. follow your inner guide and go where it is you're always wanting to go, but for one reason or another haven't gone yet. and don't get caught up in the why of why you haven't gone there yet, or why you're not already there or well past it, for that really doesn't matter. what matters is that you're going now. so go. do. move in the direction your chest is facing. trust that you know far more than you or anyone else realizes. trust you.

I believe that our only real task is to believe -- in ourselves, in others, in the process, in the deliciousness of cinnamon rolls, in the glory of sunsets. to believe that all we imagined possible, is in fact possible. that the only thing blocking our view of paradise is our own hand shielding our eyes for fear that we can't handle its beauty. we can handle it. we can deal with overwhelming joy. we can be the masters of our wildest imaginings. how delightful, how terrifying, we are the ones behind the controls of this innerspaceship. we decide if we blast off or implode. will we explore our outer reaches or stay grounded in florida, sweating in our suits? how delightful, how terrifying, we decide. and for what it's worth my fellow astronauts, I believe in you. I believe in us.

red rockets of desire

2010-01-18T01:39:00.001-08:00

I want this. I am going to get this. soon enough. soon enough. oh you Nord Electro 3 sixty-one keyed beauty with your velocity layers and your waterfall keys and your saucy red finish. you will be mine. my fingers will make you moan luscious melodies. we will become so very close. I will tell you all my secrets and you will sing them to the world. I can't wait. I can wait. I will wait a little longer, but not much longer...

money tree seeds

2009-12-14T11:55:00.000-08:00

in this photo, we are all wishing for private jets and unlimited travel funds.

lately I have been faced with the fact that money does indeed make the world go round, or rather, it gets you around the world. plane tickets are not cheap, but the majority of my loved ones are far far away.

what to do? what to do?...

make lots of wishes for money tree seeds and surprise checks in the mail and gold records and anonymous donations. oh look, a million dollar bill just sitting here on the sidewalk! lucky day!

a lack of funds shouldn't keep me from the x's and o's I'm needing. the money is hidden somewhere, I just need to find it. I'm checking all my pockets. I'm cramming my hands between so many couch cushions. I'm determined that I will find the cash to exchange for the currency of love, wrapped in the arms I am missing.

***an update: two days after posting this, I received an unexpected check for $2,700. true story. keep asking for things, they're coming.

if anyone was wondering...

2009-12-13T12:32:00.000-08:00

this is what joy looks like.

get a little closer

2009-12-05T17:55:00.000-08:00

hugs rule. I don't think we get/give nearly enough of them. why not up the ante?

an update

2009-12-04T16:44:00.000-08:00

I am in love.

what am I missing? nothing.

2009-12-01T11:48:00.001-08:00

I am ahead in life and behind in writing.

I've been out and about/one with the world/full of so many words, but with no pen and pad in hand. it's ok. it's all right here in my lovely little head. my lovely little head/my lovely large heart.

I have been on the road, stuck in the mud, dancing and sweating, laughing and loving the shit out of everything I can get my hungry hands on. hungry hungry hands. I have had my ears wide open, only slightly less so than my eyes, my eyes wide open, only slightly less so than my heart. my hungry hungry heart. I have been feeding myself a diet of hugs and high fives. I have been ever so busy deepening my smile lines, increasing the wattage of my bright shining eyes. I feel blessed. I have found love and I am bathing myself daily in music. what in the world more could I be needing? perhaps a donut or two, I give myself those. maybe some long walks, I give myself those too.

I try to give myself the things I am really asking, ignoring all the other requests that I suspect come from somewhere else, a place outside, a safe place. I don't need to play it safe. I need to play. if I am everything I need, what am I missing? nothing.

open or close?

2009-10-20T16:59:00.000-07:00

our skin and bones are not intended for what we often think - they are here to keep us from bursting.
life fills me and it is my flesh my muscle matter my rib cage my pelvis my skull - they keep me together, they maintain this constant explosion of joy of madness of overwhelm of frustration of pleasure of all the endlessness.
it is my body that anchors the heavens I hold inside.
it is my home - I choose if I see it as a cage or a stage. I can act out my life or I can hide and blame the walls. I can sing or I can whimper. I can beat my chest or bang my head.
I am the choices I make.
I grip the chord that pulls the curtain.
open or close? open or close? open or close?
I am the master behind the miraculousness that fills me. I can let it crowd out the air I need to breath or I can breath it.
in and out. in and out. in and out.
I choose between the cage or the stage. the singing or the whimpering.
I choose. I choose. I choose.
life.

who needs sleep?

2009-10-13T12:30:00.001-07:00

lately I have been waking up before the sun. perhaps it is the fact that the man on my mind is in a different time zone. I am trying to align myself with his distant shore.

perhaps it is because I have work to do...

the other morning I woke up at 4:37AM and grabbed my voice recorder. a couple weeks before that, same thing at 5:35AM. what was it that woke me? a song. this song. I decided to lay it down while I was unable to lay down myself. I recorded this while the neighbors slept. who needs sleep when you have a dream?

while the conveyor belt keeps conveying

2009-10-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

I have a rash on my face. not cool.

whenever I get a physical ailment I do not rush to rite aid in search of an ointment. I take a peek inside. a check-in checkup, if you will. "what's up?" I lovingly ask myself. I also call my mom knowing she will open up her hippy dippy mystical medical book (which I love) and look up "rash" and tell me that rashes are an indication of an emotional irritation over delay. and then a lightbulb will blink on in my brain and I will nod yes. yes, I am very irritated with delay right now. I can't help it. I know patience is a virtue, but I am not always a virtuous woman. I am trying. I am reminding myself that the goods are on their way. the goods are always on their way. there is a big beautiful conveyer belt conveying the blessings I seek. I know this. I believe this.

but sometimes I get tired and forget to remember that this is not a waiting period, this is my life.

right at this very moment the conveyor belt is dropping blessings on my head. yes, maybe there are bigger and better things down the line, but these things now, in this moment, they are preparing me for all that is to come. I am allowed to forget this fact. what matters is my vigilance in getting back on track. there is something I want that I don't have, but there will always be something. that won't change. how I choose to see everything leading up to the something is what matters. I've been around enough blocks to know, for each goal achieved, there will be infinitely more desires created. I will always want that which is out of reach. I just need to make sure to give that which is right in front of my face lots and lots of love while the conveyor belt keeps conveying.

too busy

2009-09-26T13:56:00.000-07:00

I've been too busy to write. too busy having fun. too busy being happy. too busy deciding on a whim to jump in my car and drive a couple thousand miles to see someone special. too busy laughing really hard. too busy talking till the wee hours of the morning and then falling asleep on floors. too busy dancing. too busy believing in magic. too busy learning that I can be anything I decide that day I feel like being. too busy being the adventure I seek. too busy being in love with the moment to think about writing it down. good thing I have a camera.

los angeles, my love

2009-09-20T15:21:00.000-07:00

los angeles, my love

your beauty puts a song in my heart

(and your burritos put a smile in my belly!)

sharpening my ax

2009-09-12T12:18:00.000-07:00

just as my feet were passing across the clashing carpet through the cacophony of the hollywood guitar center, looking longingly at the glossy curves of a surf green fender stratocaster, I get a text message from my bandmate ry: "hey, you want a guitar and an amp for free?" why yes I do. thank you.

the signs are there, if you are looking for them.

and so I get my new gift and decide to make it my own. for $53 I order a new body and a new pick guard. fortunately for me, my other band mate, jeremy, is a magician. so together, jeremy, ry and I gather to solder and drill and lose screws and eventually marvel at the end result. it is an ax fit for a queen, whatever that means. either way, I'm ready to shred.

me want

2009-08-31T13:05:00.000-07:00

this would be said in the voice ralphie uses in a christmas story when he's talking about his bb gun. I want a fender hot rod series blues junior 15W 1X12 tube guitar combo amp in surf green. my pocket is gladly accepting donations. just sayin'.

get out and grow

2009-08-27T18:53:00.000-07:00

this is me mid montana. ah the open road and how it flows through my veins. I recently jumped in my little race car of a honda and headed north to surprise my little sis for her 22nd birthday. 2,981 miles later I am back home and feeling about 5 feet taller. the weight of a head full of thoughts, lifted. opened up, emptied out. nothing cleanses my insides like a trip through the middle of nowhere.

no cell reception. no fizzy water. nothing but faith--if I keep moving, I will get somewhere.

and I did. and it was positively lovely. my sister cried with delight when I magically appeared (after 20 hours of driving). I got to spend time with family and friends and good food and good wine and one impossibly adorable baby. I got to see someone walk through a screen door and I got to eat 4 bowls of homemade ice cream. the trip was an utter success, as much for the time spent at the destination as for the time spent getting there and back.

as always, I did not return the same person that had left only a few days earlier. everyday we have a chance to do the things that will change us. to put ourselves in a bigger pot so we can sink deeper, stretch out, get stronger. all we really need to do is soak up the sunlight. turn things to sugar. get out and grow.

5 minute magic

2009-08-08T11:39:00.000-07:00

I am currently in the midst of recording all my musical musings from the comfort of my lovely little abode. I like the process of recording about as much as I like eating wet garbage. something always goes wrong. mystical black magic bullshit that has no apparent solution. oh, and not to mention the fact that the nasty little habit of perfectionism that I thought I had managed to quell, opens up like a festering wound the moment I sit down to record. I battle on despite a constant overwhelming desire to just watch zac efron's abs on my laptop as he turns 17 again. I have to keep trying to get past my head into the territory where my chest plays the only melody I need to hear. the other night, I was literally frustrated to the point of tears. I had been trying for hours to record a song but for some reason the mic didn't want to work, and my fingers wouldn't play the guitar in a way that made my ears happy. I decided to stop and breath for a moment. then I decided to hit record and see what happened if I let go. I just sang into the built-in mic on my computer and made up the song, lyrics and all, as garage band was recording. this was the result in less than 5 minutes. I am proud of this. it, like me, is not perfect, but is beautiful because it's honest.

you've come a long way jamie

2009-08-08T09:44:00.000-07:00

It takes courage to be willing to meet myself over and over again, seeing in my own face more beauty and grace and ability to love than I had hoped for, more judgment and impatience and need than I had feared. I forget that it does not matter how far or how fast I move, but only how much of myself I take along for the journey.

~Oriah Mountain Dreamer

my friend jamie moved to new york yesterday. this is nothing new. she has moved there and countless other places many times in her young and adventurous life. and yet, this time it is something new. this is the first time she will be taking all of herself along. we spoke on the phone this morning, her forgetting the time difference, waking me early, me being glad for the mistake. with jamie I can always hear it in the timbre of her voice, how she's doing. my gut registers the frequencies of what is joy or sadness, terror or calm -- a strange and motherly gift that I have with those I love dearly. I could hear it in her voice, she was peaceful and she felt good about being there. just yesterday we had discussed the flavorful layer cake of fear she was trying to digest as she was boarding the plane... and then it was morning, and she was drinking tea in her new home and she was present in her new life and she knew that little else mattered. this is no small feat, it took her 29 years to arrive at that knowledge and will surely require endless vigilance in her maintaining such a realization.

we talked about how far we had both journeyed away from ourselves in the process of finding ourselves. like dating someone you don't really want to be with so that you can (hopefully) figure out who you do want to be with. it can be that way with yourself. I've been going steady with myself for nearly 3 decades. that's a long time and yet I'm still getting to know me. and if I'm really living, that's not a process that will ever end. I have both loved and hated myself, known myself deeply and wondered who the fuck was looking back at me as I brushed my teeth. I have vigilantly told others the truth only to realize I was lying to myself. I have been proud to know myself and ashamed to the point of hiding. I'm still figuring myself out, but I am not trying to confront only portions of my truth, I am trying to the best of my ability to live them ALL, ALL the time. it's enough to make me want to take a nap just thinking about the implications. I will surely disappoint a lot of people. not compromising my truth will surely offend, let down, frustrate and hurt others, but after years of feeling like that would be the worst thing I could do, I realize that the worst thing is hiding myself in order to protect others. that's not protection, that's a lie. we all deserve truth. we all need to be strong enough to accept that other's honesty might not be the easiest thing to hear, but that it's the only thing we should want to hear. we are strong enough.

jamie is in new york because she stopped protecting herself from what she really wanted. no matter what happens in new york, she has already succeeded on the only level that really matters, she is there. all of her. and all of me is so proud of her and all the other people in my life who take all of themselves along wherever they may be and wherever they are going. we are strong enough.

she came bearing gifts

2009-07-27T15:09:00.000-07:00

I have sung her praises before, and now I'm going to sing them once more. sara kaye larson is a masterful adventure companion. she is currently in LA taking a break from the hot wet heat of memphis. I am thankful for the unbearable tennessee summers. sara is here. with sara, comes new experience. trips to northerly lakes at dawn, prison museums, ghost towns, historic walks, beautiful buildings, desert thrifting, and hollywood hotel pools. sara reminds me that I shouldn't wait for her visits to discover my own downtown. all I have to do is open up and get out.

an important reminder

2009-07-16T21:05:00.000-07:00

love is alive and well. believe.

eye on the prize, I wake.

2009-07-03T14:43:00.000-07:00

I'm silly. I stay up till 4 AM watching silly movies, eating silly snacks, thinking silly things, getting silly stomach aches. there's nothing silly about heartache. but it is often very silly how we choose to move through its murky waters in search of a day at the beach. white sand. turquoise water.

I am ready. I am ready for land.

today I woke up with a different feeling about the day than many of the days before. I didn't dread its empty contents. I didn't feel weighted down by its absence of plans. I got out of bed (which may not be regarded as an accomplishment, but is). I showered. I ate breakfast. I left my house. I went for a walk. I am here, trying to say more than "I don't know". I mean, I don't know, but I want to say something regardless. I walk a path paved in what was and I am moving forward grateful that I have made it here. each step is a victory, in any life. each smile an achievement. the little things are as big as you let them be. life's as simple as you allow it. happiness is the goal, all goals melded for the sake of joyful alchemy. eye on the prize, I wake.

walk it out

2009-06-30T15:41:00.000-07:00

I haven't been feeling completely awesome lately. yesterday I decided I would take a walk and see if that would help. it did. a lot.

strange new flowers

2009-06-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

the words we spoke
were living things
our breathy exchanges
resuscitations
each departure a death
each hello a wet birth
learning language like a child
I bury the words I used before
strange new flowers burst from the grave
I seek new names for each bright blossom

my island

2009-06-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

Life is never easy for those who dream. -Robert James Waller

I used to hear music and ache. I felt the gape like a wound. I want that was the thought burning through my veins. but now, I hear music and sing. I feel its presence like a warm blanket wrapped around my dancing skin. I am that is now the thought that hums in my brain.

it takes so long sometimes, to arrive at ourselves. if I think about it, I guess it takes a lifetime, some people getting closer than others, some never even taking the first step. lately I have had a heightened awareness of the struggle to just be. I am surrounding by people begging the question how. how do I ignore what I'm told and hear what I know? how can I become unafraid to follow my fear? how will I know if I am making the right decision? all these questions that we ask ourselves as means of delaying action. the distractions from the actions that will free us from all the dissatisfaction. if it were easy, we would lose interest. it's supposed to be hard. it's supposed to be terrifying. it's supposed to seem nearly impossible. how else would we know what is possible? how else would we find ourselves?

I by no means am done discovering, but I have seen the outlines of my shore. it took me so long just to arrive at the knowledge that the destination I seek is in fact there -- but it's not some distant island I'm sloshing at sea to reach. it is in me. so close. so far. slowly I add a new coordinate to my map. x moves around marking a different spot each day. some days I am courageous enough and patient enough and strong enough to unearth the treasure, and some days I stay anchored in the boat, shivering in the cold of my own fog. I let myself have those days. I am learning to let myself have all the days, the glittering gold and ruby days, the gray and unfriendly days too. they are all my days. I am all my days. what matters is that I believe in my island, and it's not even about reaching it, it's about knowing it's there.

don't take it personally if I punch you in the face

2009-06-12T12:09:00.000-07:00

soooooo much to catch you up on. I got my belly button pierced. ok, so maybe not. but I did do a lot of other super talk aboutable things that I am drawing a complete blank on right now. I think I believe if I simply sit down and type, they will all spill out and then the events of the past few days, weeks, months, whatever, will in fact have happened because they have been historically cataloged in my blog. the only reason I have this blog is so sometimes, when I forget that I am living, I can go and scroll through all the posts and reconfirm what I already knew, I am indeed alive and living. I have thoughts and feelings and I share them with whoever it is that happens to stumble across this thing (and which google analytics tells me, is either an incredible speed reader or doesn't read this at all, given that 83.59% of my visitors spend less than 10 seconds on this site). a fact that I do not take personally.

I am in the habit lately of not taking anything personally. like when I get towed and have to pay the city of los angeles $300 dollars (which I would have rather spent on a plane ticket to spain) to get my car back. these things happen. I will be honest, there was a moment (and I let myself have that moment), where I thought, poooooor me. boo to the hoo. but then I thought, well, so to the what? I had to cough up some cash I don't really have. I'm still alive and mostly well. I still get to laugh about this in a couple of years when I'm laying poolside at my hillside estate. just another thing to slop into my bucket loads of character I've been collecting in all my odd jobs and various life "experiences" (a nice word used to describe those indescribably difficult times we always manage to somehow pull through). we all rule. because we are living, and continue doing so.

well, it seems I can't think of all the things that have transpired since I last thought to write any of them down. fortunately I have photographs. I will let them express what my words are lacking.

my rite to party

2009-05-28T14:50:00.000-07:00

the morning before I left idaho to return home to LA, I was enjoying a delicious breakfast prepared by my lovely sister and her lovely boyfriend. halfway through the meal, my lovely mother quickly got up from the table and returned holding one bright pink birthday candle. she lit the candle and stuck it into a rosemary breakfast potato sitting on my half-finished plate. my family sang me happy birthday while we all laughed at this loving gesture. I made a wish and blew out the candle exactly one week before my birthday.

tomorrow is the last day of my 28th year. it feels monumental. many a birthdays have passed without me giving them much thought. but this one is different. this is the kind where I feel impelled to shave my head or climb a mountain or buy a really nice bottle of whiskey aged exactly as many years as me. I find myself craving a campfire wreathed in the smiles of my loved ones. an island getaway. a big dance party where everyone dresses up as their hero. a poolside lounge at a desert nudist colony. shit, I don't know? something special. I think the point is my desire for the ritual. fighting for my rite of passage to party. a ceremony of sorts to celebrate who I've become, because quite frankly, for the first time in a long time, I am really proud of me. I've worked hard for that feeling and I want to embrace it while it's here, sing it a song, take a picture of it to hang on my wall. I'm not sure yet what exactly I am going to do on the 30th, but something tells me it is only the beginning of what is going to be a celebratory year (and life to come).

we all daho

2009-05-26T12:17:00.000-07:00

sometimes you sit on a boat, budweiser tallboy in hand, laughing with your family, watching the sunset and you think to yourself, "boy howdy, I am lucky." then you remember luck has nothing to do with it. you deserve all the blessed moments you receive.

babies are cute

2009-05-25T12:31:00.000-07:00

meet alistair wesley mcintire. he is a true delight. I had the privilege of kickin' it with him and his awesome mama michele while I was in idaho. in case you forgot, allow me to remind you, babies are cute. they are also incredibly wise -- they haven't forgotten yet what it's all about. eating, sleeping, pooping, laughing, loving, living -- the rest is just excess. do yourself a favor, spend some time with a baby and remind yourself of that fact.

desert dance party

2009-05-15T12:46:00.000-07:00

sometimes you just need to drive out into the desert and dance. sometimes your friends, who don't live in the same town, drive out to meet you. sometimes you climb a mountain to watch the sunset together. sometimes you stay up late together in strange motel rooms drinking whiskey and talking about life and love and loss while eating potato chips and tootsie rolls. sometimes you take a walk in the dark together. sometimes you make each other laugh, really hard. sometimes you wish they didn't live so far away. sometimes you build an imaginary jet in your head, put all your loved ones in it and fly them to your side. sometimes you are perfectly content to look at pictures of them by your side. they make you laugh even from afar.

snot is slippery

2009-05-14T11:32:00.000-07:00

I just ate shit. not literally. I mean to say, I fell. or rather, I slipped. upon inspection, I appear to have slipped on dog snot. wish it had been a banana peel. I'm always wishing for the real life experience of cartoon comedy. but alas, it was only a tiny globule of mucus that turned the otherwise safe terrain into a treacherous path. I made a GRAND entrance into the cafe. an accidental performance piece. I think everyone was expecting me to be extremely embarrassed about it, I mean, it was possessing of all the qualities that would make it so -- über hip coffee shop full of über hip people sitting quietly enjoying 6 dollar cups of coffee while staring at macbooks . . . and then enters in the girl on invisible roller skates. bags flying limps splayed. it was hilarious really. everyone was more embarrassed for me, than I was for myself. people sat stunned, silently waiting to see if the earth was going to slip out of orbit, if I was going to turn into a tomato face and run off never to return. but then I just got up, brushed myself off and laughed. here's the problem with "playing it cool" -- it means you're playing. you're not actually cool. to me, coolness lies in ones ability to be the real deal. the bumbling idiot who makes no apologies for their truth. I was super cool in my uncoolness this morning. for this I am proud of myself. the baristas were proud of me too. they told me that I fell very gracefully and gave me my coffee for free. I'm half tempted to slip on snot everyday.

flip flop

2009-04-28T13:04:00.000-07:00

what do you do when you realize you are a character from the movies?
the older woman always wearing smudged coral lipstick.
the incessant dipshit always telling shit-for-brains jokes.
the sexy beast who lives upside down but longs for right side up.
lips pouted.
looooong gaze at the camera.

I know what I am doing.

this is my movie.
I am the star, the muse, the director, the perpetual entertainer.
I am the asshole laying out the mixed nuts, arranging the napkins in a fan.
I am the producer of this box office smash that wonders why it flopped?

will it flop?
has it flopped?
did it flop?

flip flop I am a fish out of water learning to swim.
time smoothing out the raisins of my fins turned fingers.
I can feel again.
who needs water when there is music?
I am a professionally untrained dancer.
my hips lead the way.
they’ve never done me wrong (I left that up to the men that loved them).
oh how they loved them.
oh how poorly.
no one loved me half as much as I loved them.

my hips, not the men.

the top of rock bottom

2009-04-19T21:49:00.000-07:00

please excuse the mess, I am under construction.

I am a mess. a beautiful, ravenous mess. I will have my way with this journey. I will carve out this path. I will make decisions that shock and horrify. I will betray others so as not to betray myself. I will not look back.

I will eat giant pieces of charred meat in the middle of the street. I will drink tall boys during the day. I will sing too loudly in quiet places. I will take long solitary walks up steep hills. I will laugh at inappropriate jokes and cry at silly things. I will forget to eat. I will struggle to sleep. I will embrace the cliche of a meltdown. I will melt and rise up, a microwaved marshmallow. some graham crackers and some chocolate and I will become s'more and s'more amazing each day. it may be sticky, but it is oh-so-delicious and well worth the mess.

I don't remember writing this last night

2009-04-17T12:57:00.000-07:00

“oh the little things. well I’m relatively available for the making of magic or the scraping of the mundane. either way. it’s the little things.” ~me to a friend via text

holy shit, this is what it really looks like. drunk. alone. on a thursday night. life being a series of surprises, but not of the cupcake variety. not the surprise where a group of your favorite people jump out from behind a couch in the dark to wish you a happy birthday. surprise! you got what you wished for. you are drunk. and alone. and now what? sitting in the dark surrounded by blessings. scared of the implications. now what?

live. dance. sing = to yourself and no one else, for the time being. laugh, on the phone with friends even though it’s not as good as in person. pine for things. long for a shorter wait. this is what you asked for. embrace the melancholy. this. is. what. you. wished. for. don't be careful.

don't be careful.

embrace the crazy. the blissful indifference. the not knowing. the desire for something undefined yet somehow palpable. everything becomes unspeakable for the blabbermouth me. embrace it.
I am embracing the beautiful speechless me. what can I say?

this is what this birthday looks like. a cake with no candles. no light, but sweet just the same.

how I spent my easter

2009-04-12T13:36:00.000-07:00

ostridge eggs are colossal. you need a chisel and hammer to break one open and about 20 people to eat the insides. for those curious, it tastes like a chicken egg, only milder. this was definitely the highlight of my easter weekend. gross and wonderful. practicing the religion of laughter. amen.

not a cry for help... just a cry

2009-03-25T21:46:00.001-07:00

photo by anna groth-shive

if you must know, it feels sort of like I'm dying. of course, how am I to know what dying feels like? I am still alive. and quite frankly, I have a lot of nerve even speaking of such things when my heart is still beating, and my lungs are still supplying the oxygen it needs to do so.

I am not writing this for sympathy. I am writing this for sanity. I am full of question marks that poke at my ribs and tickle my toes. the writer in me thinks that perhaps, perhaps, writing about it will ease my tired mind. my weary body. my body wants a vacation from working. a bruise on my shin refuses to heal, a week later it is tender like the first blow. I ran into a coffee table made by a father and his sons. a giant tree flattened for magazines and beer bottles. rough edges left for smooth shins. my shin. still bruised.

I am trying to heal.

what I am asking of myself is courage, and I am finding stock piles of it under stacks of old books I am going through to divide between me and the love that once was. I am finding hope in between summer dresses I am pulling off hangers and putting into bags. I am finding patience in cluttered drawers full of too many little things to do anything with but throw away. I am finding love in the mirror when I finally give into brushing my dirty mouth and washing my long face. I want help. I want a 24 hour hot line. but I will not dial the phone.

I am doing this alone. not because I have to, but because it is the only honest thing.

that is not to say there are not countless blessings being bestowed upon my head. people making phone calls and leaving messages. feeding me when I have forgotten to do so myself. offering up a comfy couch. listening. making me laugh. sending me emails about people worshiping images of christ found in cheetos. cheesus.

I am ok, even though I am not. I am ok. I am looking forward to being better...

I am tired. I am worn out. I am reminded every 3.278 seconds why some people avoid love all together. it is painful, not always, but often. it ends. one way or another. but I am not going to avoid it. ever. I embrace this part of the exchange. the dividing of lives shared. I do not feel sorry for myself. it was all worth it. it is always worth it. always.

don't say ouch, it feels good

2009-03-19T08:56:00.000-07:00

life's not supposed to be easy. I believe that. but I also believe that life is supposed to feel good despite the difficulty. I am currently in the practice of extracting joy and pleasure out of a painful situation.

people change as the trees do. we live. we love. we move on.

when I was younger and going through my first heartbreak, I adopted my own little mantra: don't say ouch, it feels good. when I was 11 and couldn't sleep from the pain of growing bones, I wanted the pain to stop. but I'm glad it didn't, because I would still have to use a chair to put the dishes away. the pain is part of letting us reach new heights. I am choosing to honor the hard parts while seeking the blissful ones in the process.

processing the process

2009-03-09T18:00:00.000-07:00

"Trust your process." ~Anne Wilson Schaef

I remember when I wasn't this sure about "things" - you know, career paths, boyfriends, the circumference of my pant legs - things like that. I am here now, still unsure, but sure that's it's perfectly ok to be so.

I am my process.

lately I've been taking great comfort in that. loving who I am becoming who I will be. loving who I was in all my unknowing. loving who I am now in all my unknowing. embracing the great pulsating process that is me and everything that I see (and don't see).

it's been a process getting to this point of honoring the process.

I think it started with sara, who first got me to stop creating with an end result in mind. to let go of what I wanted to get out of it. to express simply because I can, and not because it will make me rich or famous or loved, but because it makes me happy. it was a very complicated process to arrive at that simple fact, but once I got over my idea of what something should be and instead just started making and doing, I felt something profound - freedom. freedom from myself standing in my own way. no longer afraid of if it "isn't good" or if it never "goes anywhere", I can write and draw and sing and dance just because it feels good to do so.

now this is not to say that I don't still get scared, or confused, or uninspired, or bored or frustrated to the point of wanting to just get married and have 10 babies at once to fill up my three story house of longing. the difference is that now I am choosing to try and honor all the rooms of my soul. the small cramped closets full of junk, the big white rooms with bare walls, the pretty little nooks painted in soft yellows and lit with afternoon light, the living rooms filled with stiff couches draped in squeaky vinyl. to be willing to sit in the spaces that are uncomfortable or terrifying, knowing that just past the hall is a room with a canopy bed covered in big fluffy pillows and filled with all my favorite people laughing and listening to music and dancing and eating cake.

it's all part of the process.

who am I to fight myself? I am not the enemy? I am a soldier in the process of learning to battle every fearful thought that barricades me from living my truth. and hot damn! if that doesn't get tiring. and good lord! if sometimes I don't feel like raising a white flag. but I will let the heart on my sleeve bleed dry before I give up on the endless process of me becoming me. because to me, the alternative of pleated khaki pants walking through an endless mall is not an option. not doing what is scary is the scariest idea of all.

baby steps with big feet

2009-03-03T18:20:00.000-08:00

this is why I haven't written in a while. sxsw. mecca for my young heart. my band yearbook pictures will be playing there this year. ferkin a! this is something I have imagined happening before. small potatoes for some, but a mountain of golden mashed potaters for this gal. yum yum. it's no small feat to make cd's and buttons and find transportation (and the money to make the transportation possible). oh, and practicing, that's in there too. good news is an incredibly nice fella by the name of parry gripp is selling us his old nerf herder van for $1. for the price of a candy bar, we are getting a bonafide touring van that runs! the heavens doth shine down upon us.

let me say that this is one of those moments where you (I) need to realize that something you've wanted, imagined, dreamed of, etc. is actually taking place. a milestone if you will. the thing about milestones is we need to honor them and not rush by when we pass one. take a moment, perhaps stretch a little, look up at the sky, look back at the worn path, and then with all those things in mind, start walking again. one foot in front of the other. baby steps with big feet as my dear friend jamie would say. we are getting somewhere. even when it feels like we've been moving in tiny circles, we are moving forward. our only task is to move and look out for the milestones that may not come every mile, but are there when they see fit to show us that we're not standing still. have faith in physics and yourself and you will get there.

me, my valentine

2009-02-14T13:19:00.000-08:00

long long ago, and far far away, I was in an empty airport late at night alone. the piercings, the streaked hair, the signs of those times. solitary me at 23. traveling to and from foreign places looking for someone. surrounded by foreign tongues.

I just stumbled across this picture and seeing it I remembered that night, and I remembered feverishly scribbling out a poem sitting on that polished floor under those inconsiderate lights. I went looking for that poem, and found it:

what's in it for me?
this separation.
this dislocation.
this lack of sleep in far away airports.
this longing.
this convincing myself that I don't, when every inch of me does.
this conversation in my head.
the thought that anyone who cares has no way of telling me.
the thought that what's in it for me is only the delusion that if I keep moving, I'll eventually forget you.
but no distance could escape you.
you are everywhere.

***

I am here now, only scars where metal once hung and I am able to look at that girl and say, look, it was only a phase. it's all only a phase. and now, the calm that has washed over me like a gift from the deep, I wish I could give it to the girl in the picture. but I know that each phase is necessary and leading to the next. I look at that girl and think of all the miserable valentine's days and realize today, on this day of love, in all her searching for love, she was learning through time and space, distance and long lonely nights, the miraculous art of learning how to love herself. I'm glad she stuck it out.

care bears on fire

2009-02-13T13:02:00.000-08:00

it's never too early to start being yourself and it's never too late to start doing what you love. remember that my friends and remind yourselves everyday. there's no right time there's only time. make of it what you want.

too school for cool

2009-02-05T17:33:00.000-08:00

ben "ladies man" pringle

jeremy "the stud" burgan

ry "party animal" sarmiento

bethany "the babe" toews

there is something so life affirming about yearbook pictures. it's like the first time you see someone cry, how can your heart not melt? a new bond is formed over the exchange of vulnerability. I don't care how much coolness one achieves over the course of their life, we ALL had an awkward phase (some lasting longer than others).

I remember when by some divine intervention I became "cool". 12-years-old and clueless-as-could-be, the first day of 7th grade ushered in a new group of friends -- the "cool" kids. what was I to know of this thing called cool? over the summer I decided to stop perming my hair and shed my splatter painted glasses in exchange for highly coveted contacts. and you should also know that my permed head donning over-sized glasses had sang its heart out at the talent show the last day of 6th grade. apparently my rendition of "the greatest love" made for a small fan base. all those things combined and before I knew it, I was catapulted from the safe terrain of the invisible nerd to the tumultuous life of a popular girl. truth be told, being popular consisted mostly of girls hating me and guys trying to feel me in places that weren't ready. so... I had to create my own brand of fame. I was still friends with the geeks and the freaks and handpicked the finer folks from the in crowd. in the end I learned a lot about being myself and accepting the consequence, and ultimately, the rewards of doing so.

why am I telling you all this? well my friends, I am telling you this because my band - Yearbook Pictures - recently collected our own yearbook pictures and shared them with each other. we had so much fun doing so that we decided to spread the fun with all of you wonderful peeps out there in cyberspace. we are currently asking for submissions of everyone's awkward pics. if you have a facebook page, why not become a fan and submit your own masterpiece. so far it's been a highly enjoyable exchange.

the coolest nerds in town

2009-01-22T15:09:00.000-08:00

rock n' roll ain't easy, but that don't matter none 'cause you ain't got a choice. make music or turn to dust.

or something like that.

this is my band, yearbook pictures. we have been strumming and singing and banging on the drums together for a year now. my lord if you don't have some ups and downs and my lord if there ain't times when you consider throwing in the towel. but my lord if it ain't just the purdiest feeling to play together and love the sound that makes. we've been working hard lately to get things going, make things happen, that whole shpill. what with all the myspacin' to do, and the picture takin' to organize and the shows to line up and then play... speaking of which, those of you in the los angeles area, or those of you with a private jet or disposable income or a free ticket to ride, we will be playing this tuesday (january 27th) at 9 (that's pm, not am) at spaceland (1717 silverlake blvd. LA, CA 90027). JAM ON IT!

lifesavers in a sea of silence

2009-01-10T13:48:00.000-08:00

sara saved my life. something tells me it won't be the last time.

yesterday sara was my flotation device. just as I was drowning in a hopeless mass of sloshing traffic, the phone rang - a fog horn that shook me from the haze. saved.

she talked me off the ledge in my head - the edge of ok.

to those who have never been stuck in los angeles traffic, let me give you a brief and insufficient taste of the exhaust. it is endless. like a ship at sea thinking it might fall off the earth once it reaches its destination/wondering if it ever will. it is relentless - it is not an anecdote or a cliche, it is a pressing reality that replaces a sense of peace with a raging case of impatience in a matter of moments. I pride myself on my usual achievement of zen while in said situation. as others honk and curse and swerve, I listen to music or public radio, I admire the silhouetted palms and ignore the cacophonous mess. sometimes I even sit there in silence satisfied with the simple task of thought. but yesterday, my friends, I was at a disadvantage for I was driving home from a particularly disturbing audition. you should know that another side affect of los angeles living other than the traffic, is that somehow, someway, eventually you end up involved in "the industry". one way or another, from the most intentional to the most unsuspecting, you become a part of it whether by proxy or by jumping headfirst into its blue. I jumped. living here, waitressing while hearing tales of the riches one could make by simply endorsing deodorant or somesuch... I got an agent. I went on auditions. I booked jobs. yes that is my face selling you sour cream. no I do not want to talk about it.

so here I am, a victim of my own devices - putting myself in these "situations". I sit in traffic to get to these auditions only to sit in traffic to play the whole thing over in my head hoping to eventually get home. anyway, as I was saying, this audition was particularly unsettling for reasons I am going to briefly explain. first off, it was an audition for a print job, as in still photos. print auditions generally consist of standing in a line waiting for your turn to hold a number in front of your chest and smile for a camera. when I explained this to sara, she said it sounded very similar to the process of incarceration. (she is an insightful one, that sara). so I went to this audition expecting the usual bovine activity, only to walk into the room to be met by 5 silent strangers sitting on a couch. the audition started out as expected, but then, I was asked by one of the 5 strangers to dance. naturally I thought, where's the music? then I realized there wasn't any. and then I had to learn the harsh lesson that dancing without music is much like swimming without water - it doesn't really work. so I moved in nonrhythmic movements trying to find a song in my head. nothing. the strangers sat silently, judging my performance. I resorted to a khaki pants dance, at one point actually churning butter. after what felt like far too many measures of non-music, I was relieved of my duties.

this is the point that I am somehow not making - friends are what matters. at the end of a difficult day, they are the flashing light leading us out of the storm back to dry and stable land. I have friends because unlike some people, they would never ask me to dance to the sound of silence. I have friends because they call me when I'm stuck in traffic simply because they know how awful that can be. I have friends because if I didn't I wouldn't laugh nearly enough, like when I read the email jamie sent me after my awkward audition:

(i wrote you a song)

girl dance dance dance to the sounds of silence
yeah dance dance dance to tha rhythm of nothin
dance dance dance
oh dance dance dance
shake ur booty to the elec-tri-city thats pulsin in the air
cuz
that's. all. you. got.
dance!

when life hands you limes, make margaritas

2009-01-09T17:33:00.000-08:00

my skin's itching and my eye's been twitching and I've been having this dream where I need to run but my legs won't move.

I haven't known what to write for this hopeful little blog of mine, I've felt like a traitor in thought - an absence of hope is no time to post. this blog was the challenge - take the lime, well past its shelf life, hard as a rock, and squeeze it. don't give up because it's just when you thought it was bone dry, a droplet of juice is let loose and you know because it's stinging in your eye. there is always something to extract - even from the sourest, dourest, more barren of sources. squeeze hard enough and you've got yourself an f'in margarita. I can't remember a time I wasn't happy with a margarita in my hand. salted rim salvation. saving your own soul while the mariachi music papers the walls.

why can't life be like tonight all the time?

2009-01-02T18:58:00.000-08:00

it's not often that you drive home from a long holiday road trip, only to be invited to a ranch in the nevada desert that happens to be right on the way. it happens even less that you are invited to said ranch on new year's eve, a night you were prepared to spend in the car, counting down the new year at 80 miles an hour. 2009, so far, so good.

sandy valley ranch is a magical place on its own, but add to that good friends, lots of whiskey and champagne, sparklers, hot tubs, taquitos, and illegal fireworks lit by dudes drunker than you, and you've got yourself a serious party.

out there, I only confirmed my deep unshakable desire for compound living. in the middle of nowhere dancing and laughing with friends, I wondered to myself, why can't life be like tonight all the time?

the delay of love

2008-12-17T11:35:00.000-08:00

today marked the beginning of a new era (well, for me at least). video chat. the world of distant friends revealed at a 10 second delay. this morning I sat across from sara's pixelated head.

we compared the glory of our morning hairdos and gave each other tours. she showed me the snow outside her michigan home and then she taught me the secret to making "christmas coffee", which I am now drinking as I write this (*hint* whiskey and cream). we laughed, danced and rested our faces on our hands a lot. it was weird, it made me simultaneously wish I was there with her and feel okay about the fact that I wasn't.

technology. we connect in bytes. but you can't measure love in megabytes.

nowadays we are able to connect with greater ease to more people but are we connecting as deeply? in the days of the pony express, wirey little guys, often orphans, would put their lives in peril to deliver love letters. now people deliver news of great import in seconds through handheld devices. "I'm engaged." the tiny screen reads. "I'm moving." the glowing box says. I have recieved very serious news in a very unserious way lately. with technology we are given new ways of communicating and that is amazing and something to be celebrated, but I think it is also important to check ourselves every once in a while and say, I am communicating more than ever, but am I connecting?

with friends spread out all over the place, I am thankful for the internet and cell phones, but I am also determined to write letters and buy plane tickets, and perhaps even build the compound in tennessee that I have been dreaming of where all my friends bring their brilliant brains and handicraft and we collectively create a home. no need for video chat or "can you hear me now" phone calls. just a bunch of friendly faces sitting around drinking christmas coffee together and enjoying the clear sound of each other's stories. until then, I will settle for technology.

this I believe

2008-12-14T12:08:00.001-08:00

I recently had the fortune of coming across this I believe. what started as an NPR radio program has now become two books, a podcast, a community movement, and much much more. it's quite inspiring to hear the beliefs of all types of people and in turn to reconnect with and think about your own beliefs. I believe I have more than one belief, but when I decided to write my own this I believe essay, this is what came out:

I believe in asking questions. as a child I grew up in a religion built on blind faith. no room for thought or doubt, only endless submission to a big bearded guy in the sky that seemed incapable of making something as delightful as the trees I climbed or as funny as the creatures I found digging in the dirt. "he" was a god to fear. a god with a long list of rules to be followed. it never made any sense to my curious mind and wild heart. when I was 10, my family moved from the flat of the heartland to the mountains of the northwest. the simple act of changing our scenery in turn changed our entire lives.

through the relocation we set about establishing a new belief system, one that was unconstrained by fundamentalism and its answers for everything and instead rooted in the fundamental truth of questioning the answers. I watched my parents discover their own truths and was in turn given the space to find my own. slowly our lives moved away from who we were taught we should be while we worked passionately and often awkwardly towards figuring out who we wanted to be. through the process I always trusted myself and my good intentions as I renegotiated my relationship with "god". in the end, I learned that to find god, I didn't need a building with a cross, or a stale cracker and a glass of grape juice; I didn't need the gibber gabber of tongue speak or the monotony of a well practiced prayer. god was everywhere. god was in me and in everything and everyone. god was to be found in the act of loving myself and everyone I met no matter how differently they believed. god wasn't the answer, god was the asking.

it is this belief that has separated me and my immediate family from the family we came from. they do not see god in me. they do not believe there is a place for me in their heaven. but that is fine. for me, heaven has been the new life my family was given -- the life we gave ourselves. the chance to change -- to fully realize the life that I want to live not limited by false judgment and intolerance but liberated through understanding and acceptance. a life of endless discovery and rediscovery. I believe in a life that seeks less answers and instead delights in the freedom to question the endless wow and infinite mystery of living.

full heart empty pockets

2008-12-02T16:55:00.000-08:00

my amazing pal jamie is currently in the process of applying to graduate school for poetry. she says it's because of the economy, and because she wants to enter into a highly lucrative field, seeing as getting her bachelors in acting didn't pay off, except for that one honda commercial she did. I told her that I think it's a great idea. and then we laughed.

oh the economy.

I would be a liar if I didn't tell you right now that every day I fight the urge to break down in a fury of fear for the encroaching doom that seems eminent. sara and I have been known to use iceland's economic state as a comfort for our own. we are not alone in our struggles. and the debt, oh the debt, the adding and never subtracting. it has kept me up at nights. but why? my bank went bankrupt. and now my credit card company can't keep it together. why should I care that I owe them some dough? and WHAT IS THE WORST CASE SENARIO? what could possibly be so terrible? moving back in with the folks? two people that I respect very very much are currently living with their parents. let's not forget that my dad makes great coffee every morning and then pours quality wine at night. and my mom, well shoot, that woman lives to make her kids happy -- pancakes every day of the week if I so requested. the point is not that I am going to move back home, the point is that if I couldn't pay my bills, as I am so afraid I will not be able to, what is it that I am fearing would happen? bankrupcy? there are worse things. homelessness? I wouldn't be homeless -- besides my parents, there are always the parents of my homeless friends. I think what I am really afraid of is not being able to get sushi when I am craving it or taking a trip to mexico in january because I feel like a drink on the beach. what I am having a hard time with is the lack of freedom that the shackles of debt so expertly applies. joan didion said it best,

"The secret point of money and power in America is neither the things that money can buy nor power for power's sake... but absolute personal freedom, mobility, privacy. It is the instinct which drove America to the Pacific, all through the nineteenth century, the desire to be able to find a restaurant open in case you want a sandwich, to be a free agent, live by one's own rules."

and that is what I want, the luxury to live by my own rules, but why is that a luxury? how has freedom been given a monotary value? and how can I fight against a system that I don't actually believe in? I don't believe that money will make me happy. I don't believe that I need money to live a rich life. I don't believe that debt is an excuse for giving into a job that I hate. so what is it that I can do to free myself from buying into the widespread panic that I can't afford to accept?...
fighting it everyday. talking with friends who share my sentiments. taking trips I can't afford, but also can't afford to miss out on. selling my bone marrow. participating in medical studies. dog sitting and baby walking. singing on street corners. charging people money to watch me talk about nothing on the internet. picking free fruit off the trees in LA and selling it for a reasonable price. shaving jg's head and selling his locks at a premium price. laughing at myself everytime I start to worry about the ecomony, reminding myself that the u.s. of a. owes A LOT more money than I do. partaking in a lot of free activities like writing to friends and looking through photographs and waving at cute kids in strollers and remembering what really matters. the fact is, and this is what I have to remember, you can't put a price on rockin' in the free world.

a time for being

2008-11-30T23:59:00.001-08:00

what I am about to say is not original, but I am going to say it anyway. all-too-oft, holidays miss the point. what was (hopefully) created to bring loved ones together -- to enjoy the glow of winter fires and the warmth of each others hearts -- has been turned into a stress fest, a chaotic gathering of frazzled families and friends. shoulders sagging from the malls, heads throbbing from the decision making. how many rolls of wrapping paper will these gifts need? how many bottles of wine will it take to survive grandma's questioning? but wait, did you even get a chance to enjoy it? or were you too busy stuffing the turkey? too busy straightening the house? screw the gifts, give yourself.

this thanksgiving ranks among the best of all time. it was simply delightful (keyword being simply). no frazzled messes were made. just a leisurely day of hanging around drinking mimosas, watching john hughes flicks, and somehow managing to make a delicious dinner for six. we sat down and ate and drank wine and talked and talked and talked. we sat at the table for four hours before we thought to get up for the pumpkin pie (which my mom threw together last minute with a few simple ingredients - and which was astounding in its deliciousness). my point is that I could have easily stressed myself out. four guests in our little house, a big meal made in our tiny kitchen. but no, I told myself to just enjoy the company and see what happens. and that is what I did, and what happened was magical. we sat around sharing stories and laughing and realizing that the holidays are not a time for doing but a time for being. simply being in the moment, together.

taking a photo op

2008-11-30T15:08:00.000-08:00

jG francis took this picture. I like it a lot. that's all I wanted to say.

chunky jazz hands

2008-11-18T00:54:00.000-08:00

life's full of firsts. first step, first word, first kiss (mine being an extraction of vital tonsil tissue - a process so unpleasant, so "un-hot" that I vowed never to repeat it). tonight I experienced a new first. a first spray of vomit. chunky jazz hands shooting out of the mouth of a babe. my man, jg, who first took a sip of alcohol at the age of 33, took a new step into intoxicated adulthood tonight - highway to the danger zone, the one-too-many punch. we walked home from margarita madness. bobbing and weaving. I turned around to witness the beauty of expelled excess - my friends, it was beautiful. the violent spray of intoxication backlit by city traffic, the splatter of a bad idea bouncing off the front lawn of strangers. poetry in motion. congratulations. you. are. drunk.

I was torn. my love was in distress. but I was transfixed. mesmerized by the making of history. in the midst of the the last liquid burst, his shaking hands held out the peace sign. I knew he was okay. he was better than okay. he too knew, something special had taken place - the awkward or the extraordinary - our firsts are as important as our lasts. I felt lucky to have been a part of something bigger than us. the process of discovering.

the big tree

2008-11-17T13:22:00.000-08:00

photo by nat hansen

this weekend I took the train from LA to santa barbara. I forgot my camera. you'll just have to believe me. it was awesome. the backsides of buildings, the bent backs of workers, the stretch of the ocean, the smoke of the fires, the drama of the windblown trees. it was awesome. why have I not done this before? I will do this again.

when you get off at santa barbara, you are met by a hundred-and-some-year-old fig tree that will make you ponder the power of patience. this thing is mindblowing in its expanse, its shade, its root system. huge is a word that comes to mind, though there are many others, like incredible, life-affirming, awe inspiring, calming, so on and so forth - as goes the beauty of trees.

anyway, I was in santa barbara, not only to eat entirely too much pork abodabo, but also to mix an album with the as-yet-to-be-named band I play in. let me say this: making music is relatively easy - you close your eyes and you sing or you strum an instrument or you pluck some keys. but making an album - as far as I can tell - is the furthest thing from easy. if it weren't for the persistence and obsession of mr. benjamin pringle, it probably wouldn't have happened. but, it did, and four million tracks later, we found ourselves sitting and listening to the magic of mixing as it transforms all the hard work into beautiful music. it's exciting, getting to this point. polishing the marble structure you've been chipping away at for weeks or months or even years. seeing its shape that you have reveled, stripping away the excess. taking a step back to see what was at one time the stone slab of an idea now having been completely transformed into a work of art.

we sat there holding the shiny disc with our callused finger tips. we put it in the cd player and let our voices fill the car as we drove home. we listened, we smiled - at ourselves and at each other - and when all the songs had played, we sat quietly looking out the windows at the passing night. and then, we started thinking about all the new songs we could write.

whistling scorpion

2008-11-08T11:39:00.000-08:00

the first sign is that I've been whistling scorpion's winds of change a lot lately. that met with the gale force winds of change that swept the dark clouds out of the sky and let the sun shine down once more on this nation when this country blew its own mind and elected obama. change is all around us. from the political scene to the trees outside. which brings me to my next point - trees. on my recent road trip I thought a lot about trees, seeing as there were, well, a lot of trees. trees are lovely, necessary. they remind me of the change that is not only natural but expected in life. trees grow, bend, shed life and live again. so it seems only logical that humans should do the same. which brings me to my next point, I want to make like the trees and leave. I am ready for a new view. I am ready for a place where the tap water tastes sweet. I would like to live somewhere where people are more eager to exchange ideas than business cards. there has been a collections of "signs" for my bohemian soul. one of which I would like to share: blue highways by william least heat-moon. so far it seems a book that should be required reading. a journey through the heart of this country - history, humanity, trials, tribulations, realizations, glory on the open road. somehow I have forgetten that this country has more than two polar cities worth inhabiting. lately, the U.S. map has become like the night sky, the further I get from LA, the more stars I see.

don't get me wrong, I'm not about to get all new york on LA's ass and start talking some ignorant nonsense about how LA sucks just because I've seen a few movies or visited the sunset strip. LA is a magical place, for better or worse. the palm trees and burritos alone make me think I could never leave. it is beautiful and grotesque and shallow and real as hell all at once. it is home to so many different dreams that don't have reality shows. it has been my happy home for over 3 years (which is a record). it, like any place, has so many things to offer. take what you want and leave the rest. my recent thoughts of distant landscapes is not born out of a dissatisfaction with the here, but with an excitement for the there. for the where? which always brings about the how? and more importantly, the why? those questions I want to always be asking myself. it's not that I'm not happy here, it's just that I think maybe it's time to start nurishing these roots with some new soil.

Yes, We Can

2008-11-05T16:07:00.000-08:00

This is our moment. This is our time — to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people:
Yes, we can.

~The New American President, Barack Obama

the shedding of tears is part of our long, and oftentimes, painful history. countless tears have been shed out of struggle and loss, heartache and hopelessness. but last night, for the first time in my lifetime I was witness to a different type of tears shed by a nation. tears of joy and pride and hope. tears that were not hot on our cheeks but cleansing to our eyes - we could see more clearly the future we have been hoping for. in front of us stood a man who stood for us as a promise of change; as a symbol of difference finally united. people who had given up, began again. people who doubted, believed.

what a gift. "barack" is a semitic word meaning "to bless" or "blessing". we are blessed to have such a leader at this time in our history. and when I say "we", I do not only mean the united states of america, but the entire world. kenya is declaring tomorrow a national holiday in honor of barack. today, the vatican is filled with prayer that obama will finally be the leader that helps bring about peace in the world. smiles could be seen across the globe; hands of all color holding up two fingers in a V. not since we landed on the moon, has the world been so committed to our cause, or so joined in our celebration. for the first time in too long the world is reminded that, as barack said so beautifully, "...Our stories are singular, but our destiny is shared."

what an amazing time in history - our history. what an opportunity to be a part of such profound transformation. but as barack said last night, "This victory alone is not the change we seek — it is only the chance for us to make that change." so now is the part in our history where we decide how much we can give and how much we can change. while the nation did not let race sway their vote, california voters passed proposition 8 banning gay marriage. while one victory against discrimination was won, another was lost. this is just the beginning. as obama said, "The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep." so will we continue to climb? the real challenge we face is keeping this hope alive. the real struggle is taking the flame of last night and letting it be the light that guides us down the long road. we cannot forget.

it is the responsibility of our hands to build the future we deserve. it is the tireless service of our hearts and the choices of our minds that will direct the course of our history. it is our voices that will first shout, yes, we can! and yes, we will! and finally, yes, we did!

america made beautiful

2008-10-29T20:37:00.000-07:00

the mother road gives birth

2008-10-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

“Once in a while it really hits people that they don’t have to experience the world in the way they have been told to.” ~Alan Keightley

“Without new experiences, something inside of us sleeps. The sleeper must awaken.” ~Frank Herbert

travel is my alarm clock. it buzzes in my brain and puts my feet on the ground. it removes the sleep from my eyes and brushes the stale taste from my teeth. each day on the road is like morning - dreams still weaving their way through your waking thoughts, coffee speeding your excited talk with old friends and new strangers. each day you decide where you will go, what you will do, and ultimately, who you will be. and often, the road will tell you otherwise, and then you get to find out who you really are.

I have been back a week now from an epically gorgeous cross-country road trip. I am not the same. I am never the same, the pillow doesn't feel the same, the muscles in my face have changed - so much smiling. I sent my mom a text message on the last day of our journey, I told her I was not ready to leave the road yet. she responded with a reminder of how nice "home" is. I told her, I feel more at home on the road. on the road everything is that vibrant mixture of familiar and strange, exciting and mundane. in between the opposites, your brain is called on to constantly work it out - how to feel, what to think. in this state of awareness, you are fully alive, you miraculously recover from the coma of routine and meet each sight, smell and taste with the wonder of a child.

and yes, of course it is exhausting. always being awake to life - but that is why hotel rooms have cable. you can pick and choose how much you are able and willing to take in. fortunately I was accompanied by two valiant road warriors on my journey. jg and heidi were right there by my side, ready to fearlessly face the unknown of a tennessee dive bar or, in heidi's case, the taste of memphis dry ribs after 10 years of vegetarianism. together we navigated through the colors of autumn. we met new friends and old friends along the way. kimberly opened her apartment and her heart to us in brooklyn and shared giggles with us on the air mattresses at night. ron and his mom made us laugh our arses off despite the dodgers loss while in phillies territory. sara was the best guide one could wish for leading us through the post-apocalyptic wonder that is detroit. the strangers sitting at the bar in the lamplighter lounge in memphis became quick friends as we sat sharing stories over pbr's. and two friendly baristas in fort smith, arkansas made our lattes and our night as they listened in wonder to the tales of our journey.

it's not the miles you travel, or the local fare you try, or the pictures you take, it's the people you share the ride with, and the people who share their homes with you, and the people you meet along the way. it's the people who take you as you are and give you themselves in return. I was lucky on this trip, the people were nothing short of beautiful. I am thankful for them, and the road.

gobama!

2008-10-25T20:46:00.000-07:00

I'm nervous, I must confess. my hopeful nature is shivering like the autumn leaves aware of the approaching winter. but I do not want another winter for this country, we have been hibernating for far too long. obama is like that first day you can drive with the windows down. obama is like the first day you can smell the lilac bushes warming ever so slightly in the springtime sunshine. obama is sunshine and he will illuminate this great nation if only we give him the chance. please america, vote for the future this country was intended.

like whitney, I too believe the children are our future, but unfortunately they can't vote, 'cause if they could, they would vote for obama. do it for the children - get out there and cast their votes for the person that will help pave the way towards a future the kids and the old folks alike will be proud of. hope. change. obama. gobama!

In the end, that's what this election is about. Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or a politics of hope? ~Barack Obama

all this beauty

2008-10-07T00:04:00.001-07:00

inspired by skl's beautiful blog, I decided it was a great time to make a (short) photographic list of some of the things I believe to be beautiful. times are hard - the economy, mercury's ass in retrograde, 3 more days till I get to watch the dodgers kick ass... but I look at these photos and I realize, even if a meteor were to fall from the sky and squash this little town, I would be blessed to have been a part of all this beauty. all that said, that meteor better not even think of heading this way until after the dodgers win the world series...

and now, in no particular order: beauty as told by b

clouds
good hair
the game
jG
32 years
music
sara
home
sisters
heidi
jamie
good men
michele
this day
laughing
family
more family
mary beth
kimberly
a road atlas
love

and that's not even the one/sixteenth of it.

astronaut wisdom

2008-09-28T22:38:00.000-07:00

"We learned a lot about the Moon, but what we really learned was about the Earth. The fact that just from the distance of the Moon, you can put your thumb up, and you can hide the Earth behind your thumb. Everything that you have ever known, your loved ones, your business, the problems of the Earth itself, all behind your thumb. And how insignificant we really all are. But then how fortunate we are to have this body, and to be able to enjoy living here amongst the beauty of the Earth itself."

~Jim Lovell, Apollo 13

if you like beautiful 60's footage of space travel and astronaut wisdom, I suggest you get your eyes on In the Shadow of the Moon, an amazing documentary by David Sington where science is stranger than fiction. I was like a bright-eyed child amazed by what a miracle this experience we call life on earth really is. we forget easily, but watching this film is a nice reminder. look at life through the shiny eyes of those who have seen it from the moon and lived to talk about it. significantly more than 2 thumbs up.

spoon at the bowl

2008-09-27T15:49:00.000-07:00

6 friends (jessica, jamie, keirin, jeremy, jg, and b)
3 bands (beck, spoon, and mgmt)
lots of food (cheese, salami, bread, hummus, carrots, beets, pickles, and more)
and some kitchen sink drinks (gin, club soda, lime, basil, cucumbers, and granny smith apples - yummers)
all in all, the hollywood bowl was nice and the bands were good, but the friends, food and cocktails won out.

missing michael

2008-09-21T16:13:00.000-07:00

I miss michael phelps. that man was a big part of my evenings for a few magical days and I want those days back. watching someone who worked so hard and believed so much. someone who ate 12,000 calories a day and still had a six hundred pack. he was my modern day hero. I mean, the dude does wear tights. michael made me ask myself what 8 gold medals I would like to win? he reminded me that maybe I'm not supposed to eat a pound of pasta for lunch and be the fastest swimmer in the world, but I am supposed to put everything I've got into becoming the holder of the most gold medals in the history of me. into the pool of potential I must dive and butterfly myself to the other side. now if you'll excuse me, I better shave my legs.

be all that you can be in the LACC

2008-09-16T15:39:00.001-07:00

who knew the treasures waiting for my shovel. in the mail a promise - "make new friends" the cover reads. in my hands the key to my unlocked potential - the los angeles city college fall catalog.

let the friend making begin.

but how does one choose which friends they would like to meet? what types take "BE YOUR OWN PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR" or "QUICK AND DIRTY SELF DEFENSE"? is a "BALLOON WORKSHOP" just full of class clowns? and should I be nervous in a classroom full of people studying "HOW TO GET A U.S. POST OFFICE JOB"? would I connect with the folks in the course that teaches you to "READ ALL DAY & GET PAID FOR IT!"? or would "SCREENWRITING WARRIORS" or "FRUIT & VEGETABLE CARVING" offer a more promising group of pupils?

as I read I realize that with a few hours time and hundred bucks or less, I could become anyone or do anything. "YOU'VE WRITTEN A SONG, NOW WHAT?" you mean for $30 you can tell me in one Saturday what I've been trying to figure out for over a decade? and after all the stuggle, in six days I can finally have "GUITAR MADE EASY" for only 70 bucks? and after all these years spent throwing money away on cramped city apartments, it only takes three simple thursdays and $95 to finally "LIVE - RENT FREE!!!"

the options, my friends, are limitless. who do you want to meet? who do you want to become? I suggest you grab your community college catalog and start registering for the future!

and then

2008-09-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

and then for three long days we woke in the dark and spread out the substance of my family's discarded past and we sold it to our neighbors. good friends came over and helped and we rewarded them with donuts and mimosas. we drank, a lot, and we talked with strangers holding things we had once wanted. buying clothes we had once worn. skimming through books we had once read. we sold everything for pennies. thousands and thousands of pennies.

a 22 foot truck full of stuff

2008-09-11T16:20:00.000-07:00

and after all the stuff was collected, we loaded it into a big yellow truck and we drove 1383 miles back to LA. 'cause we're crazy like that.