Plans Have Changed

Artsy Kendra

I got my sketchbook in the mail yesterday and squeed myself crazy until I was able to drop all my goods from the co-op onto the kitchen table. What a pretty, pretty book. Crisp blue cover, thin and fragile pages, oh how I want to devour you. I already had plans for the evening and thus I wasn't going to start my sketchbook right away. Thankfully, the sketchbook arrived in time for two days off!

Now, I have a theme (Boys and Girls) and I have many ideas of what I'd like to do with my sketchbook, but I don't want to start before I'm officially ready. Do I want to re-bind my book with thicker paper? What will I use for a cover then? Do I want pages to unfold so there's more room to play? Lalalala, so many things to think about!

If I would have discovered The Sketchbook Project even a month ago, I would have thought it interesting but in no way would I have agreed to participate. My inner critic was mean and nasty to me, I didn't give myself to play on paper. Thankfully, I've been introduced to the world that is SARK and I am now the proud owner of SARK's Journal and Play!book. To sweeten the deal, I've created a Creativity Fort to hold my happy art supplies and it's an escape place from the blah-icks of the world.




Since building the fort, I've found out just how much I love painting. I have two brushes and I think only six paints (acrylic) and still, I'm able to create some pretty exciting things. With the exception of the past week when I was nearly six feet under the weather, I've been in my Fort every day, tinkering around. I bring my Play!book to work on days that I have forty-five minute breaks. I'm all about being crafty, artsy, etc.

Last Saturday we had a party at work. LUSH has released four new bath bombs that are pretty fantastic, definitely unique, and really do create a whole new "art of bathing." In honor of this exciting event, we decided to get a little artsy in the store as well.



I don't look all that great with a mustache, in fact, I think I look an awful lot like my father in the series of pictures that were taken in store, oh well. Thankfully, when I'm getting messy in my Fort, I look really cute and I make cute things, too:






So, that's what's been going on 'round these parts...I'll post pictures of my Sketchbook progress, don't worry!

Texas

The state is roughly the same size as France. Crazy.

I can honestly say that I never in my life thought about the possibility of ever possessing even the slightest inkling of desire to visit Texas let alone live there. Well all that changed when I met Mere. I knew before our first date that she was planning to move back to Texas at the end of the summer, that we probably wouldn't have a long-term relationship mainly because of that factor, but then we met and it just didn't make any sense for me to not join her down there.

I pay month-to-month rent and I can leave at any time.
I'm not in school so I don't have to worry about transferring credits, applications, blah blah blah.
I have a happy job, but everyone there will survive without me.
I can get up and go whenever.

We gave it a lot of thought. I'll stay here through the Holiday season so I can visit my family, pack all my belongings, and we'll hopefully bonus at work and I'll bring home some hefty chunks of change. We'll have some time to perfect the long-distance thing (though she's been traveling a little bit each month I've known her) and the absence will make our hearts grow fonder. Some people think we're pretty bold for trying the long-distance thing, but we easily point out that a few decades ago, couples maintained long-distance relationships and stayed together through thick and thin. Why should our situation be any different? AND: we have the added bonus of the lovely thing called the internet: Skype, emailing, instant messages, Facebook...we'll be fine.

Stubbornness and Determination

I made the most delicious smoothie this morning. Though places like Jamba Juice, Surf City Squeeze, and non-chain coffee shops provide really tasty fruity blended drinks to perfection, there's nothing more gratifying that doing it yourself. I should also mention, when making ANYTHING at home, you get to choose what goes into what you're making. This morning's smoothie was the most satisfying because I cracked a coconut open and used the milk as the base for my strawberry-banana smoothie. I've been known to down a smoothie nearly as fast as I'm capable of downing a glass of water after a long bike ride, but today I savored it. I gave Abbi a bit to taste since she helped me open the coconut and she agreed: pretty damn delicious.

After a few sips of my smoothie, I looked at the shell of the coconut and wondered just how I'd get the meat from the fruit. I went to YouTube, my trusty ally in most how-to scenarios. Unfortunately, my impatience and excitement won over reason and I decided that I'd just figure it out as I went. I started by scraping the meat with a fork. I certainly was getting shaved coconut, my desired outcome but at the rate I was going it would take me the full two hours I had before leaving for work to finish. Other ideas came to me and I messed around (quite literally: the table, counter and sink were covered in hairy shavings and coconut scraped bits) until I had some semblance of order. My technique helped me produce the most amount of edible coconut bits and the least amount of waste (that I could manage with the tools I was using).

As I used a spoon to pry parts of the coconut from it's shell, I thought: "This probably isn't the way anyone else would do this" "If someone saw me right know they'd laugh to high heaven" ... I was grateful that Abbi had left for the day and Jenny and James had decided to take a mid-morning nap; I was able to do whatever I pleased without anyone leaning over my shoulder. It was almost therapeutic, my method. It reminded me of how I choose to de-seed pomegranates. Certainly there are easier ways with less potential of staining various surfaces in the process, but I still choose to pull each individual seed away from it's skin, it's connection to the whole.

I'm reading The Fountainhead right now and I couldn't help but compare my fruit disassembling processes to the sketch assembly process Roark is known for. He's takes pride in his work even if it's not popular or liked at all. He refuses to do work that he knows he would be ashamed of. I like those ideals, they're quite similar to what I learned at a young age. When we had chores to do, my sister and I would often cut corners to get things done faster so we'd be able to head outside to play with our friends. When Mom would check to see what we'd done we'd often times have to re-do our task simply because it wasn't done up to her expectations. As a ten-year-old it was annoying to have to do something to someone else's standards; I didn't understand why Mom wouldn't just do the vacuuming herself if she had a particular way she wanted it done, but unlike my sister, after a bunch of times having to re-do my chores, I started doing them well, meticulously well.

Later I learned that nearly every task I'd have to accomplish would have to be done (in some way or another) to please and sometimes appease another. That realization sucked, but I'm glad that I was raised to accomplish a task that I'd want to sign my name to. There's no reward in doing things the easy way simply because it's the easiest. Tasks should be accomplished in a manner that produces the most satisfaction, the most gratification. Rarely, if ever are the two one and the same and I don't really mind that at all. I like challenges, I like to push myself and I don't mind getting dirty to get the job done.

So anyway, I've got some really strange looking coconut "shavings" and bits in a container that I'll bring to work today. I'll have what Gramps calls a "shit-eating" grin on my face while I snack on my coconut as I read more of The Fountainhead during my break.

The best way for me to get something done that I've been putting off is to stop saying: "I'll get to it" or "someday, I'll do that" and actually say, "I'm going to do this!"

Example:

Last Saturday, I was chatting with one of my co-workers about all sorts of things and somehow the topic of running came up. She told me about the Couch to 5k and how she's about to start it, planning on running in a 5k race in October. She suggested I look into it. I did and it sounded like a great way for me to ease into running instead of just deciding to pick up my pace one day.

On Sunday I mentioned to Mere and Mikey that I was thinking about training for a 5k, but I didn't go into any detail, just put it out there. On Monday I thought about it some more and decided: "For sure, I'm gonna do this!" Tuesday morning, when I was making a bacon quiche with Mikey, I made up my mind: "I am so doing this. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow."

On Tuesday afternoon, my grandmother called me to let me know that she was at Ikea. Her and Grandpa rarely make it to the Cities because they both can't sit for too long at a time, but uncle Tim drove them to the Cities for Grandpa's VA Medical Center appointment and afterwards, they wanted to check out Ikea. Thankfully, Abbi was able to give me a ride (in her beep-beep Jeep with the top down!) to Ikea on her way to work. Minutes after I met up with my family, they were joking about my shoes. I've had my Vibram KSOs for about three months now and rarely take them off. I realize that I look like I have gorilla feet, but I don't care in the least bit. I mentioned various reasons why the shoes are great and then I said: "This week I'm going to start training for a 5k." Before I went to bed that night, I decided: "Tomorrow night."

At work yesterday, I told Lauren that I was going to do my first workout that evening when I got home from work. It effortlessly floated out of my mouth and I didn't feel the need to change my mind. I was going to do it. And I did. And it felt great. And I can't wait until tomorrow night to do it again.

I'm going to keep a progress journal on Tumblr, so if you're at all interested, check it out here.

The Pizza Farm...Best Date Ever

So, it has happened. The best date ever is done and over with and will never be beat, but in case any of you want to replicate the awesomeness of the date, here's what I did:

First, I didn't let Mere know where we were going or what we'd be doing for the date. I sent her an invite as an email attachment. I told her we'd be driving an hour and a half to get there, she should wear something she wouldn't mind getting dirty and that we'd be eating something at some point during the date. That's all she knew for sure before we left Minneapolis.

Once we were on the outskirts of St. Paul, I had her fish a list out of the "inventory" bag. The list was scavengerhuntesque: someone biking, a red-winged black bird, an East coast license plate, a blue tractor, etc. For each thing she was able to cross off her scavenger hunt list, she was able to take a "clue" from an envelope. Clues like: "Though it would take them a long time to get here, TMNT would love this place" and "Mice aren't welcome in restaurants; it's a good thing this place has cats."

Periodically, she was able to take a "challenge" from another envelope. For each completed challenge, she was then able to ask a yes/no question to try to figure out where we're going or what we were doing. Most creative challenge: "For the next mile of the drive, your life is a musical. Sing-narrate your experience of the date thus far." Mere's impromptu sing-naration was brilliant and adorable and I wish I would have figured out a way to record her singing.

Eventually, she put all the clues together and discovered that we were going to a pizza farm. I described the farm a little more to her...it's a farm that makes pizzas in their outdoor brick pizza oven every Tuesday night during the summer. Everything on the pizza (except olives) is grown at the farm and every pie is made to order.

In case you don't know: farms + eating locally and organically = 2 things Mere is ALL about. I knew she'd absolutely love this date idea and sure enough, she had a blast. Getting there early is key. We were the 63rd person to order and we got there about a half an hour after they put the first pizza in the oven and when we left they were well on their way to two hundred pizzas. They don't offer plates, napkins, tables, chairs or beverages, but we were set with some iced tea and my picnic basket with plates and utensils. Others had rather elaborate spreads: tables, tablecloths, tealight candles, balloons (some people were celebrating birthdays), wine, beer, cheese spreads...

Before our pizza was finished, we took a little walk around the farm where we got to meet a few cows and some chickens. There was a bit of time when Mere walked down a row of some sort of produce and started taking pictures all around. During that time, I decided to have a little chat with the chickens: "I'm going to marry that girl some day."

We got the Italian sausage (#1) pizza. It. Was. SO. Good. I'm talking one of the best things I've ever put in my mouth, ever. If you ever get a chance to go: DO IT!

We walked our full tummies back to the car and I called my sister to let her know we were ready for the second bit of the epic date: Mere visiting (some of) my family. It took about an hour to get there. First we met Mom as she was pulling some weeds in the front yard. We walked around the house so Mere could see all the awesome landscaping Mom has done in the backyard and since Bonkers was outside, she got to meet him and see just why we call him the kitty cow.

We walked next door to see Gramma and Gramps. They showed Mere both of their gardens, explained what everything was and offered us some kohlrabi, romaine lettuce and the very first zucchini. When we went into the house, Gramps showed off some of his wooden bowls that he had been working on before his back surgery. He let Mere pick one out to keep. Jo and Carter came over and we got to play with him for awhile and Gramps shared some of his venison jerky with us. Before we left there we had our hands full with more jerky, homemade donuts, rhubarb wine, and a few other goodies. Hugs were exchanged and we headed back to Mom's

Mere got to see one of my baby pictures, had a short tour of the house, and chatted a tiny bit more with my mom before we decided that it was time for us to head back to the Cities (since we both had to work the next day). Everyone was really happy that they were able to meet Mere and I was really happy that Mere didn't freak out on me for not warning her that she was going to be meeting my family.

Yesterday Was Father's Day

I did avoid my dad while I was in town last week, but that's because he just so happened to be out of town. Yesterday, when I attempted to write a little something (on Tumblr) about my dad for Father's Day, I ended-up unloading a lot more than expected. Because it's important, I'm posting it here.

This is the only picture I could find (on the internet/my computer) of my dad and me.

I’ve sat looking at a blinking cursor for about five minutes trying to decide what to include in this post, thinking about the photograph itself, the event that happened when it was taken, everything before the event and everything after…It’s incredibly ironic that this is the only picture I could find…

For about five years of my life, I considered myself Christian though I didn’t agree with most of what I did and said when I was abiding by the Bible. When I started delving more into the metaphysical and simultaneously researching “the truth” in various religions, I realized that I’m much more agnostic than anything else, and that didn’t bother me. I’ve considered myself a spiritualist for about five years and it suits me just fine.

This past week I started reading The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs and I’ll be finishing it tonight. It’s an entertaining and quick read. I wasn’t really expecting the book to have a really strong influence on me, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find myself wanting to get back to the daily routines that have really helped me keep my head above water: praying, meditating, living in gratitude. It’s not that I haven’t been doing these things, it’s more that I’ve been sporadically doing them when I’m desperate or so completely overwhelmed, I have nothing left to rely on.

If you see me on a day where I’ve spent fifteen minutes meditating, you’ll be pleased to find a cheerful, calm, collected person, someone you wouldn’t mind spending several hours with. Catch me on a day where I’ve obsessed over the same thought for fifteen minutes (or more, as is often the case), and you’ll still see someone cheerful, but also uncomfortably bubbly, jittery, scattered.

Let’s get back to the origin of this post: the picture of my dad and me.
We’re sitting on a bench on the deck attached to my dad’s ex-wife’s employer’s home, overlooking Lake Altoona in Altoona, Wisconsin (right next door to Eau Claire). It’s about noon in late August and I’ve just had my dad’s birth mother (who was in town for a couple of days), baptize me in the algae-covered lake. As members of my church small group stood in the water with us, Grandma babbled about informed us on the purpose and meaning of baptism, recited a few Bible verses, and dunked me under the water.

The event itself was quick and rather lackluster, but it meant so much to me. Though I physically didn’t necessarily feel any different other than being soaked in algae water, I felt amazing. For the record: from the moment I had the idea to get baptized, I knew what it meant to me and what I would be getting out of it verses what it would mean to my family and friends.

Brace yourself, I’m about to start writing way more than planned:
A couple years earlier, I tried to drown myself in a bathtub. Clearly, I didn’t accomplish my mission, and thankfully, too. About a month afterwards, I got the desire to take a bath, but as I started to fill the tub, I just couldn’t do it. A few more months went by and I tried again. It seemed as though I’d never again be able to enjoy a bath for fear that something in me would take over and I’d never get out of the tub. After a very long depression battle, I somehow got interested in metaphysics and became much more aware of what I was doing to my body: nutrition, meditation, exercise (and lack-there-of). I vowed to myself that I’d never harm myself ever again and I wanted some way to make a binding pact. Somehow, I settled on baptism.

So I emerged from the water and saw my small group, Grandma, and other friends and family clapping for me. They don’t know it, but they were clapping because I just made a pact to stay on the earth among them until my real time came. They don’t know that I was saying: hey everyone, I’m important, I deserve to be here, I’m happy that I’m alive and I’m happy that I have each and every one of you in my life.

Okay. This post was supposed to be some sort of something about Father’s Day. I don’t have the greatest relationship with my dad, but I’m reminded each time I think about my baptism and every time I see this picture, that I asked him to be there that day and he was. I forgive him for the wrongs he’s done to me in the past and I do wish we had a better relationship, but things like that take a lot of time and there’s still a lot of healing we both have left to do.

Thanks for reading all of this.

Three Days Away

Tomorrow after work, I'm driving to Eau Claire in Mere's car. I've got three new mixed CDs, a pack of Twizzlers, and if I manage to find a pair during my break, a new pair of sunglasses, to make the trip with me. I realized this morning that tomorrow will be the first time I've ever done the drive to or from Eau Claire entirely by myself. I'm pretty dang excited. I'd be even more excited if Mere was able to join me for the three days I'll be home, but that would be next to impossible as she's in China right now.

Almost every time I plan to be home for a few days in a row, I find myself wanting to get away sooner than arranged. I don't think this trip will be any different...the nice thing is: I can leave whenever I want since I don't have to arrange a ride with anyone.

Agenda:
Bake something with Gramps and Gramma
Listen to the whippoorwill and tree frogs
Spend a bunch of time with Carterbug
Eat mac-n-cheese pizza on Water St.
Get my driver's license renewed
Sleep as much as possible
Avoid my father

RANT

If you are sick, you do not belong in the kitchen, especially when I'm baking cupcakes that'll be fed to a bunch of people! And even more, when you do come out here to make your tea, you really shouldn't be touching all of my stuff that's set-up for my baking extravaganza. You're making tea? You need a mug, water, and a tea bag, plus the microwave. I have no idea how you'd find it necessary to run your dirty paws over all my ingredients (albeit still packaged)! AND! I am using a recipe and following it to a T, so there really isn't any reason why you should be leaning over my shoulder telling me how to mix some fucking batter.

I'm Comin' Out, I Want the World to Know...

I came out to my dad's adopted parents this week when I was catching-up with them on the phone. I hadn't spoken with them since early March and they were itching to know what I had been up to. I'm fairly sure they were just wondering if I had decided to go back to school in the fall or not, instead I broke the news to them that I have a girlfriend and am extremely happy with her and I told them that if I do go back to school, it'll be for massage therapy and not for English or Linguistics.

This month has been incredible. I feel so alive and happy and I don't want to hide any bits of myself anymore. I know that some of my family members either won't understand or are quite homophobic and will probably become quite uncomfortable when I come out to them, but if they truly care about me and who I am and where my life is headed, they best be hearing about my lovely girlfriend.

If you read through my Mission 101 list, you'll find a vast array of challenges, some rather puny and others quite grand-scale. Coming out to all of my family members is on that list. I've decided that it isn't quite necessary to call-up the people that I really don't ever talk to (estranged/distant relatives) just for this conversation, but for the people who have a more solid role in my life, I've got to let them know.

Since I've just told my dad's adopted parents, now that whole side of the family knows. Yay! My dad's birth mother and one of her sons also know but her other two sons and their wives and children do not. My sister, her son and I will be road-tripping to visit them during the first weekend in August. I fully intend on coming out to them while I'm there, as I haven't the slightest idea when I'll see them again. As they're quite the conservative bunch, I'm not quite sure exactly how they'll take it, but I'm prepared to have a few bible verses shoved down my throat.*

I haven't tackled my mom's siblings and their significant others and children, though the cousins do have Facebook, but that just doesn't count. I'm not so nervous about coming out to them, but I want a good time to do so. I won't be making it home anytime soon (that it looks like), so maybe I should send my aunt a letter, a response to the letter she sent me this week, but with an added coming out edge. We'll see.

However they take it, I want people to know because if they have and questions or concerns, I can answer them. If they're unsure about their opinion of homosexuality because they're ignorant, I'll educate them. Here's to hoping all goes well!


* Whenever I hear the phrase "shoved down my throat," I think about this poster. Hey, guess what? The image actually applies to this entry:

My seventh grade science teacher had this up in her room. On the first day of class that foggy September, she asked us which character wasn't going to give up. I immediately thought: "Well duh! The frog doesn't want to get eaten, so he's certainly going to struggle to make sure he doesn't get swallowed." Most of my classmates agreed but someone asked: "Well, what about the bird? He's gotta be hungry. Maybe he hasn't seen food for awhile and this is his only chance to eat to survive." Well, dang. There now, we've got a stalemate. Neither wants to die. Both are going to struggle. Someone is definitely going to be satisfied and someone is definitely going to be disappointed. It's important for me to remember this image and phrase as I'm coming out. I'm absolutely certain of my identity and I'm not going to be changed or convinced that what my lovestyle is wrong. I understand that for those people who just don't quite get how someone can be attracted to a person of the same gender, they'll not want to give-up trying to save me from what they deem a "sinful life." I may always be at a stalemate with some relatives when I come out to them, but at least I'm not going to hide myself for the comfort of someone else.

A Reflection: Men and Me

Last Saturday night, I made a few comments about my last ex to my current crush/ladyfriend. I was being honest with what I said and the comments in themselves weren't bad, but about an hour after she had left, I suddenly felt that I hadn't fully expressed myself. I hadn't teased-out the edges of the thoughts I had when I made the comments and have been pondering how to clarify things a bit more.

The last person I was in a relationship with (for the sake of my own sanity, I'm not including the girl from New York in the "people I've been in a relationship" category) was a guy. This was after I had sworn-off men, deciding that I was far too good at manipulating them. Since my attraction to women was much stronger and my connection with women has always been incredibly more electric, I didn't want to even question the possibility of a relationship with a guy. Well, last May, something changed. I met this guy and there was just something about him that turned all my thoughts upside down.

Sadly, not too long into the dating-thing we had going on, I realized that the connection wasn't really a connection. I was flattered that I was getting some attention from a kind person, and it had been a very long time since anyone had really shown interest in me romantically. I wasn't interested in him romantically and I should have told him that; instead, I became very selfish and bathed in the compliments and attention. I didn't want to open-up the possibility of becoming romantically attached myself, so I didn't share with him very personal details about myself and I soon became aware that I was putting him in a box and taking him out when I wanted to play with him. That's not an appropriate way to treat any person, especially one that starts falling in love with you. I know that I broke his heart and I am truly sorry.

So when I told my current ladyfriend that the Lite-Brite in my living room was probably the best thing that came out of my last relationship, I wasn't lying, but I was also being really insensitive. The best thing perhaps that came out of the relationship is the things I've learned about myself. Yes: I am attracted to men and I wouldn't mind being in a relationship with another guy, though it would have to be under different circumstances, and I would need to let myself open-up and run the risk of getting hurt.

I have put up this terrible stigma that I can't have a connection with a man whom I'm attracted and I don't know exactly why. Somehow, I established that I won't find that and have blocked myself off from the possibility. So here, now, I'm opening it back up, because you just never know who'll wander into your life.

Though I do have to be quite honest, I wouldn't mind it a bit if my ladyfriend was my one and only love interest for (I'm running the risk of sounding utterly cliche here) as long as we both shall live.

The Simple Life

My heart is overflowing and I simply don't have the time to tell you all the reasons why, but this morning someone posted my favorite song by The Weepies and I've since had it on repeat.




Simple Life

Can I get up in the morning, put the kettle on
Make us some coffee, say hey to the sun
Is it enough to write a song, and sing it to the birds
They'd hear just the tune, not understand my love for words
But you would hear me and know...

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

I dreamed you first, but not so real
And every day since I found you, such moments we steal
Like little thieves, we rub our hands
And hold our hearts between them
But will you hear me and know?

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

Move on, move on, time is accelerating
Drive on, all night, traffic lights and one ways
Move on, move on, parking violations waiting
Turn off the car, breathe the air, let's stay here

I'll kiss you awake, and we'll have time
To know our neighbors all by name, and every star at night
We'll weave our days together like waves and particles of light

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

I want only this
I want to live
I want to live a simple life

Ignorance is Bullshit

Some say ignorance is bliss, I say ignorance is for people who would rather lazily stay in the confines of their conservative comfort-zone minds. Maybe it is blissful to live ignorantly; but I think that's a crock of shit.

It's rather frustrating to be waiting at a bus stop not knowing if you've just missed your bus or if it's a little late. Since I had forgotten my cell phone at home yesterday, I was completely unaware of what time it was when I got off the 21 to catch a 7. No one was in the bus shelter to ask, so I just hoped that I was early.

I had a song on repeat and I listened to it five times. The song is probably three minutes long; needless to say, I was standing there quite a long time before the bus arrived. As I got on the bus, I noticed the driver is one who is always late. She really takes her time, but that's mostly because she's enjoying her time chatting with her riders, which is rather endearing except when it’s complete ignorant trash.

When I sat down, I overheard the word “lesbian” so I paused my iPod and listened to the conversation. Of course I didn't get to hear everything as I had chosen to sit towards the middle of the bus, but I did hear enough to get rather upset:

“It just doesn’t make sense for a woman to be attracted to another woman.”
“I think that all lesbians once had boyfriends who didn’t treat them right.”
“And they probably had ‘Daddy issues’ too”

After awhile, I couldn’t stand hearing anything more so I pressed play and zoned out. As I got off the bus, I was told to have a good night. Out of habit, I returned the wish, but wanted to say:

“I’m a flaming lesbian who has had boyfriends who treated her really well but the fact is, I’m not sexually attracted to men but I am sexually attracted to women. And yes, I have had issues with my father, but why the hell should my relationship with my dad have anything to do with who I want to fuck?”

If something like this happens again, I'm going to speak-up. Unless someone is told otherwise, they'll continue to believe the myths that have been created to make some sort of sense out of the unknown, the strange, the seemingly impossible. If I merely get worked-up when people share ignorant thoughts or ideas that I could somehow correct, I am morally obligated to do so unless I want to end-up seething about it. If I let the ignorance continue, I haven't done my part to debunk the myths, to provide truth and education. So, from here on out, I'll do my best to make some sort of statement. It may start an argument, but perhaps that person will see how upset they've made someone by the comments they were making. Maybe they'll decide to keep their thoughts to themselves. Or maybe their opinions will change if given adequate education.

"We're Going to Tasty Yum-Yums in Our Jam-Jams" --Cassie

Frosty Treats in Marquette, Michigan has opened their doors windows for the season!

This small image might not mean much to you, but it does to me. I lived only a couple blocks away from this lovely little shop during my summer at the Ohio House. The best days went something like this: Ella would get home early from work, Cassie would have the day off, and I’d be just finishing up something or other for Platform and we’d take a walk to the lake. We always brought our shovel and pail so we could collect any found beach glass. Lilacs were always borrowed on our walk home to add some lovely fragrance to the house. We liked eating light dinners, usually some really good cheeses, crusty rosemary bread dipped in balsamic vinnegar and olive oil, and some fresh fruit and veggies. After listening to an Ella Fitzgerald record and watching an episode of Firefly, we’d count some change, put our pjs on, slide our toes into some sandals, and then walk to Frosty Treats for a tasty dessert.

Though the line at Frosty Treats can seem daunting as you approach, you soon forget how long you’ve been standing around because you bump into people you know. They wonder and ask why you’re in your pjs and you reply: “Well, why not?” That answer seems to cure everyone’s curiosity and they are incredibly envious that you have the luxury of walking to Frosty Treats whenever you wanted.

Discovering that Frosty Treats has opened-up for the season makes me incredibly homesick. I MUST make a trip to Marquette before fall.

And so it is, I have discovered my muse!

I imagine you'll find it ironic that I write no more on the subject.

Tweaking

I think the reason why I love "You've Got Mail" so much is because I'm so much like Tom Hank's character, Joe Fox, when he's getting to know Meg Ryan, Kathleen Kelly's character better. We as the audience know that he's getting to know her better and he's making himself more attractive to her. He's making her fall for him, making her unsure of how she feels for this internet friend of hers because there's an amazing guy right in front of her.

This is what I do. I get chummy with someone, babble about how much I like someone and how I'd like to be with them, but really I'm just trying to get the girl to admit she's a bit envious that I'm liking someone else.

It's like shooting fish in bucket or barrel, however the saying goes.

I'm pathetic.

I Like Dating

It must have been about two years ago when I decided to take myself out on a date once a month. I don't really know where the idea came from necessarily, I wouldn't be surprised if I borrowed it from a book, play or film, but from wherever the inspiration came, I have thoroughly enjoyed treating myself each month. It's a practice of self-esteem and confidence boosting and it gets me out of the house.

Sometimes I plan my date nights in advance, but that's usually only if there's an event that I'd like to go to. Typically I find myself with extra time in a week and then plan to take myself out. About ten minutes before the end of my shift yesterday, my boss asked me what special plans I had for the rest of the day. I admitted that I have a library fine that I have to take care of and once that's done I wasn't quite sure what I'd do. I honestly had no other plans, but as I passed the Edina Cinema on my way home, I thought about taking myself out to the movies.

I took a nice nap on the bus and woke-up just before my stop at the downtown library. Walking into the building, I braced myself for what I feared a tremendous fine and a heavy dose of embarrassment. What I was met with was a terribly long line and only two people working behind the counter. Though I had the patience to wait in the line, I wasn't quite sure how patient everyone else behind me would be when I'd have to go through the process of not only paying my fine but also getting a new library card since I haven't the slightest idea where mine decided to hide in my room. Needless to say, I didn't even step foot into the line.

Instead, Gatsby* and I got cozy in the cafe. I sipped my chai tea latte while I researched showtimes at nearby theaters and I also jotted down a few upcoming concerts I'd like to see. Since I was uncertain if I should see "The Ghost Writer" with Ewan McGregor and Pierce Brosnan or Colin Firth's "A Single Man," I asked Tumblr what I should do. It seemed pretty unanimous.

At home I gussied-up, ate a tuna sandwich and tried to soothe my pre-date jitters. I honestly don't know what it is, but I still get all giddy about taking myself out. Though I thought I had timed my bus ride perfectly, the 7 was just leaving the stop as I left my house. Thankfully I had plenty of time to walk to Lake Street to catch the bus to Uptown without a problem. Even though it was drizzly and a bit chilly, I didn't wear my hat as a hathair preventative. That was probably a dumb idea, but I'd do the same thing if I were going out on a date with another lovely lady, so I didn't mind it too much.

I, a single woman on a date with herself, bought a ticket to see "A Single Man." I didn't get anything from concessions for three reasons:
1) I worked at a movie theatre in high school and cannot stand eating popcorn
2) Everything is overpriced
3) I smuggled in Cadbury Mini Eggs, Reese's Easter Eggs, and Caramel deLite Girl Scout cookies

The film was incredible. I especially enjoyed the cinematographer's choice of fading and/or intensifying color depending on the scenario taking place. Though he's a good actor, before seeing this film, I never would have called Colin Firth a brilliant actor, but that's how I'll refer to him from now on. And Julianne Moore! Let's take a moment to reflect on how stunning she is...yes, completely and utterly stunning. Matthew Goode without his English dialect? At first I was put-off by this, but then I fell in love with him again and was almost convinced that he was indeed American. Then I remembered that doesn't make any sense at all because he's on my list of English men I adore. Colin Firth is on the list too. Why did I even question going to "The Ghost Writer" over this film? Oh yes, that's because of my undying love for Ewan McGregor.

Yes, so anyway, the film was wonderful and I came home with a smile on my face. Date night success. It was such a success that I decided to take myself to the MIA today before I go to work. The only problem with this plan is my laziness. It's such a dreary day and I'd much rather just stay curled-up until the very last minute before catching my bus. Tomorrow will be a much better day to go to the MIA anyway. I don't typically like doing something that keeps me on my feet for a few hours before being kept on my feet at work for six and a half hours.

MiMi and Me

Last night when I got off the bus, there was a kitty sitting at Matthew's Park, watching me. It was almost as if she was waiting for me. When I got to the walk leading to my front door, I turned and saw the kitty sitting right behind me. She continued to follow me to the front step where I knelt down and pet her and asked her where she belonged. She hadn't a collar but her fur wasn't matted and it was very clear that she's an indoor cat.

As I fumbled for my key, I noticed that she had let herself in the screen door behind me. It doesn't latch so she just pawed it open. I let her into our house and introduced her to my housemates. After playing with her for about ten minutes, we brought her back outside and went to the neighbor's house to ask if they knew where she belonged. Surprisingly, the first house we stop at is her home. We learned her name is MiMi and she likes to roam around outside when the weather is nice.

Tonight when Abbi returned from work, MiMi was waiting for her and again she was welcomed into our house for a few minutes. Later in the evening, Matt came home and MiMi must have seen him come in because in a few moments we heard mewing, a request for us to let her in. For the past twenty minutes she's been lying on my legs, sleeping.

This is love.

The Bicycle Race

I'm an out of shape, recent non-smoker*, stretching her arms one last time before straddling her bike and advancing to the starting line. Other athletes take their places looking much more prepared than me.

Exhilaration, excitement, I can't wait to get started!

The finish line is ahead and though I don't know the route, I'll follow the signs as they appear and will mimmic the motions of the other bicyclists, certainly I can't get lost if I follow what they're doing, right?

The gun goes off and my legs are flailing, I'm pushing myself forward without training wheels. While trying to regain my balance I wonder: "When was the last time I was on a bike anyway?" Balance is back and I press on, full speed ahead. A mile into the ride, I'm feeling great. By the second mile I'm cramping up. I'm doubting myself, back peddling: "What on earth possessed me to do this?"

A tire pops and I dismount to repair it. I want to give up. There's no reason for me to continue now that I'm so far behind everyone else. I should just quit. I fix the tire. I get back on and continue to ride. I run out of water. I'm dying. The summer heat surrounds and suffocates me. "Air, where are you?"

I can't handle it. I slam on the breaks, catapulting myself over the handlebars. This scrape on my chin will be a scar. I won't forget. I throw the bike aside, cursing it. "Why did I let you convince me I could do this?"

And I abandon the bike and sit under a shady tree for awhile.

And a few years later I suddenly have the desire to ride again, hoping it's a different course and the weather conditions have improved.


* I don't actually smoke, I never have and never will but the residual cough I have from being sick last week might raise eyebrows

Minneapolis New Breed and Other Things (not a review, but a reflection of the evening)

Last night I went to the Minneapolis New Breed at the Southern Theatre located conveniently right around the corner from Town Hall Brewery who, I should mention, made a killing off of the actors, stage hands and various theatre-goers after the show. I wouldn't be surprised if as the casts from all three plays took their final bows about sixty percent of the audience thought: "I need a drink." But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

In fact, there was a bit of a reception catered by The Red Stag Supper Club before the show. As suggested by Elizabeth, my co-worker and friend playing Nina in the final play "The Seagull", I had my fill of free pinot grigio before taking my seat. "You'll need it," she assured me. I approached the counter where three wines and a very cute girl greeted me. Though I could plainly read the bottles before me, I asked about the pinot grigio. A coy smile spread across her face and a sweet voice replied: "It's delicious, full. A good wine, if you like good wines." I then slid my hand across the counter to take one of the classy plastic cups. Her hand gently fell onto mine. "Can I see an ID?" While I dug out my driver's license, I was silently cursing the moron at the DMV who took the terrible picture of me. I handed the cute girl my ID and with her free hand, she curled some hair behind her ear. As she returned my ID she said: "So Kendra, are you usually a white wine girl? Where do your flavors lie?" Upon hearing my name, I corrected my posture, grabbed a glass, took a sip and then replied: "I enjoy rieslings, typically full, wet wines."

We both blushed.
"Rieslings can be quite zany, can't they?"
"Zany. That's an excellent word."
"I like zany, do you?"
After another sip: "Yes, in fact, I do."

A line had formed behind me and I could feel the pressure of their thirsty hands trying to reach for a cup. I thanked the girl, smirked as I turned on my heels and thanked the Universe for the conversation. I joined my co-worker Lori and her friend Dane and Lori asked if I was carded. She laughed when she said that she hadn't seen anyone else carded the entire time they had been there. Oh? More smiles and blush spread across my face as I took another sip.

The food provided was flavorful but not in any way impressive. I wasn't really let down though, I honestly was only interested in the free wine. Free and wine are some of my favorite four letter words, especially when the first describes the second. My first glass was gone rather quickly (to be fair, it was more or less only two shots of wine in the cup) and I re-approached the counter for another. The girl was uncorking a bottle but paused to smile at me and slide another pinot grigio my way. I thanked her again and accepted her wink with a smile.

A couple minutes after returning to Lori and Dane, Elizabeth and Gabe joined us. They both had before the show jitters, Elizabeth in particular. Gabe enlightened us on the origin of his amazing tie, Lori and Elizabeth babbled about the new MAC eyeshadows they purchased that day, and Dane and I finished our drinks and he returned with one for each of us. A photographer from Vita.Mn, a local entertainment magazine asked us to get together for a photo. Later at home I realized that my ex-roommate will see that picture and will see me in her shirt, the one I have sworn to have not seen since November 2008. Oh well.

Here's the picture:


The theatre doors opened and we took our seats. This is where I'll give a not-review of the shows. If you'd like an actual review (and I do suggest you read it, it's quite humorous), check out this review by Jay Gabbler of the TC Daily Planet. And in case you're wondering, Elizabeth is the girl cawing like a seagull in the first picture. Precious.

As you're sitting down, four people bend, twist and warm up vocally as well all behind a stretched screen. Their bodies shrink and grow with the backlighting. I sat front row, center. Why? I could get into the fiasco with selecting my seat but instead I'll tell you a little about the people I sat next to.

On my left, a not-so-gentleman. His laughter during the production came at rather inappropriate times and the unfortunately audible murmurs he made during the dry-humping in Mad King Thomas' "Like a Circus, Only Death" made me incredibly uncomfortable.

To my right, a very stiff, petulant woman in her mid to late sixties. She scoffed and clicked her tongue. I didn't happen to notice if she ever covered her eyes but I wouldn't have been surprised.

Behind me, one man that was convinced his opinions of what was happening on stage needed to be shared with the class. I wish I could have given him a dunce cap and told him to sit in the corner to think about what he did.

And back to the stage. SuperGroup's "Shouldwetitleitnoworwait" was egotistical but mesmerizing at times and I was really glad for those glasses of wine sloshing in my empty belly. I was both distracted and impressed with the hair growth protruding from one of the actress' armpits. I couldn't quite tell if she crimped it to match everyone's crimped head hair.

So then there was "Like a Circus, Only Death" from the trio that is Mad King Thomas. Ke$ha and Queen, booze, boxing, dry-humping, messy making-out and a cardboard elephant. Okay, I was thoroughly entertained with this piece but mostly because it gave me hope that some of the trash I come up with could actually one day be performed.

Then the moment, well series of moments I was waiting for: Lamb Lays with Lions vs. Katie Mitchell's "The Seagull". For the many weeks leading-up to opening night, Elizabeth has recounted tales from rehearsals and her hopes and fears about the production. I had a good grasp of the storyline of Chekhov's "Seagull" and was ready to see the clash between the very classic production created with notes from Katie Mitchell and the mess of mediums the other side of the stage would throw together. I may have been the only audience member fully prepared for what we were about to see.

Director Jeremey Catterton was on stage interacting with each cast throughout the mess of what was going on. He even kept them on a tight time limit with a buzzer on his iPhone indicating when they needed to proceed to the next act. I was legitimately angry when reading from one of his books, Trigorin in mid sentence had to stop for the buzzer went off. We didn't get to hear which lines Nina so specifically wanted Trigorin to read. And the actor playing Trigorin got pissed and threw the book down. I think he even said: "What the fuck?" or "Fuck this." Wonderful.

There was so much commotion going on that no one even expected the gunshot. Surprisingly, I didn't jump. After the actors from each play took their final bow, I did jump out of my seat to find where Lori and Dane were seated. Their thoughts included:

"Lori fell asleep twice in the first show"
"That was like soft-core porn"
"They did the Electric Feel!"

And later, after Lori had a few extra beers in her tiny body, she said: "Kendra, you don't even know how hot I got." The actress who wore basically nothing on stage walked by en route to her seat at the other end of the table. "Let's get her to strip down to those sparkly panties and red bra again!"

The food was good the wine was decent and the conversation was awesome. Gabe and I chatted about how much of a small world it is that we both know Abbi. Lori, Elizabeth and I gabbed about Lush and Dane kept making references to what he had in his pants.

It's been months since I've been surrounded by theatre folk and I definitely need to get back into it. That's where I'm most comfortable, in the arms of the quick-witted, impoverished individuals who live vibrantly for their love of the craft of acting, the love of the hushed theatre before the curtain raises and their love of art for art's sake.

I Didn't Kiss Her But I Had A Good Reason

For the past week I've been having difficulties breathing. I've had exercise endued asthma for ten years but that's not the persistent problem I've been suffering lately.

It started with heartburn-like symptoms. Sharp, unsettling chest pains that came on with little to no warning and had very little to do with what I had eaten or what I had been doing. These pains came and went.

Last night I had the start of a sore throat. This morning I woke up with a stronger sore throat and developed a cough in the afternoon.

Needless to say, though my date was pleasant and I really did want to kiss her, I don't want to spread whatever this crap is to her, especially because this all sounds a lot like what one of my co-workers had a couple weeks ago: an upper respiratory infection. She went to the doctor and is on antibiotics now.

Ugh.

And all I really want is some smoochy action.

Snow Way!

So there's a lot of blustery intense weather conditions east of here and a lot of people on Tumblr are concerned about being snowed-in or having terrible weather to drive in to get to or from work. That definitely sucks. We had a few really crappy days here earlier in the week too, but things are good now. In fact, it's a really wonderful day. I perfect day for sledding, I'd say.

I'm specifically mentioning what a great day it is for sledding because today is the Sledding Shindig event I'm hosting. Back in September I was thinking about how much I wanted snow and about how upset I was that all of last winter I didn't go sledding at all. So, I created a Facebook event and chose a random day, which just so happens to be today. I invited everyone I knew in the Twin Cities area and some other people I thought who might be willing to make a little road trip for a lot of fun. Most of my friends thought I was crazy for creating an event so far in advance, but the logic behind it was: If I plan this event and give you plenty of time to have it on your calendar, you can't use the excuse, 'I have something going on today.'

This week I've been doing a little bit each day to prepare for the Shindig. I've messaged all RSVPers on Facebook, cleaned the living room, bathroom and parts of the kitchen as well my bedroom, which wasn't necessary as no one will be coming into my room, but it just feels good to have that done. This morning I woke-up early and went to the Seward Co-op to get some food for everyone. I got the fixings for personal pizzas, trail mix, cheese and crackers, sweet potato fries, and veggies with dip. When I got home, I prepared all of the fixings so that when we would get done sledding all I'd have to do is pull stuff out from the fridge and people could start piling their plates.

Unfortunately, it's twenty-eight minutes past the time that the event was scheduled and no one is here. I got a couple phone calls and Facebook messages with apologies, which was considerate, and some other people haven't contacted me at all.

So, that sucks.

And, my two housemates who are home are both really exhausted and don't want to go sledding with me even though they were RSVPd as attendees.

Oh well, I guess I'll put the sweet potato strips in the oven and have myself a nomfest. Alone.

How To Stop Liking Someone

Valentine's Day is fast approaching and for the past few years it seems that I'm crushing on someone that I just simply can't be with. You know what it's like to have a crush on someone knowing it'll never go anywhere further than maybe sharing sips of soda or a random high-five, right? You know how terrible it is to pine away for someone without any chance of a future with them. Well, fret no longer, I've adapted a maybe fool-proof list of things you can do to get over someone that you shouldn't have really been into anyway. This list might also work for an ex boy/girl/something friend that you need to get over too.

Before I give you the list I need to give a disclaimer: Do try these at home, but be careful, some may be detrimental to your mental, physical and/or emotional health. If you still need to be friendly with the person you're trying to unlike, there are a few things on the list that probably won't work for you. Use your best judgement.

Supplies you'll need to follow the steps of the list include: copious amounts of chocolate and ice cream, booze and plenty of it, a good sense of humor, a super-smart friend who can build you a contraption (described in detail later), another cute person to direct your attention, and a few rubber bands.

Step 1: Memory Wipe
Get your super-smart friend to design you a contraption that'll wipe your memory. Make sure that you only wipe your memories of this person unless you want to start completely fresh. If that's the case, go back all the way to the day you were born. This is probably one of the most drastic things you can do and I do not hold any responsibility if anything goes wrong with this one, but if your super-smart friend does indeed create said contraption and it works, make sure that friend gets in touch with me. I want my name on the patent.

Step 2: Be Observant
Open your eyes! When you're waiting in line at the grocery store, take a look around. There's bound to be someone with a crushable likability to them. Formulate a crush on them. This new crush placement will push the thoughts of the old crush into the trash bin of your memory.

Step 3: Make Different Memories
This step isn't much different than "Step 1" but in this step, you won't run the risk of frying your brain cells. When you simply replace the happy, heart-warming thoughts you have of the person you're crushing on with thoughts of bad, unhappy things, you'll most likely start thinking that your crush is a mean, cruel person. But they are mean, aren't they? They're practically the devil reincarnated. Right? This is the part where you nod your head and agree with me.

Step 4: Forgive
They might not have done you wrong and maybe you've done nothing wrong to them, but somewhere there's forgiveness that needs to take place. Forgive your boss for hiring both of you which might be the reason why you can't be together. Forgive the new girl that they're suddenly interested in. She needs to be forgiven for being so unabashedly attractive. Forgive yourself for all the anger and frustration you've felt. They're legitimate emotions and should be felt. Forgiveness feels really good.

Step 5: Pain
This is where the rubber bands come into play. Place them on your wrist. It doesn't quite matter which, maybe put them on your left wrist until your lunch break and then switch them to your right. The choice is yours. So, each time you think about the person in question, you snap yourself with your rubber bands. It's going to hurt like hell and you'll probably hate it and people will wonder what the hell you're doing, but continue. Soon instead of salivating when you think of them, you'll whimper. Note: this step probably won't work if you're into S&M

Step 6: Start Crushing on Yourself
This might sound utterly ridiculous (as if my other bits of advice weren't), but hear me out! You are a wonderful person and you deserve a wonderful person to give you the same attention you give them. Why not start focusing your loving energy on yourself? People always say that you can't help others until you help yourself first, so why don't you practice that? This bit of advice is probably the best that I can give but I do have a warning with this one: Don't fall so in love with yourself that you become a narcissist. You'll have a really hard time attracting good attention and appreciating it when it arrives if this becomes the case.

Step 7: Eat a Lot of Junk Crap
Doing this is not actually going to help you in any way, shape, or form, but at least now you'll have an excuse to not eat well. Feel free to not exercise, clean up after yourself or shower for about a week and a half too. Like I said, this step is pretty useless. Don't do it.

Step 8: Get Things Done
Keeping busy instead of just sitting around moping or daydreaming is incredibly helpful. Each night before you go to bed, make a list of things that you need to get done either the next day or by the end of the week. When you're not at work, in the shower, or making/eating food (good stuff, not the crap from Step 7), do something productive from your list. If you're relaxing and you start thinking about the person, take a look at your list and start busying yourself again.

Out of all the steps listed, I actually only recommend you try steps 2, 4, 6 and 8. I included the others just in case they might maybe work for you. As previously mentioned, this isn't a fool-proof list and you're bound to awkwardly run into the person you're trying to unlike and start falling for them all over again. My advice when this happens is to do your best to recognize the patterns you have fallen in. Ask your friends to be honest with you if they see you steering down the path of no return. And remember, just when you think you could never live without that person, there'll be someone else who'll walk into your life who'll ignite something deep within you, and you'll be new once again.

Cut It Out

At approximately 7:09pm I ordered a Chocolate Steamed Nirvana from Dunn Brother's. Sadly, the "secret combination of coffee extract, chocolate and hazelnut with steamed milk and cream" not only burnt my tongue but also tasted burnt. I forget that I don't really care for Dunn Bros. I'll spare you the details of why I went there to begin with and will fast-forward to the point of this post.

It's now 2:40am and I'm wired. I mean, totally, completely awake. Certainly if I crawled into bed I'd eventually start fading into sleep, but I fear that it'll just be that foggy space that isn't awake but isn't yet sleeping either. Lingering in that space for too long wears me out more than if I only got three hours of good sleep so here I am, still up. And it's not only the caffeine that's keeping me up, but it's also the icky tummy ache I have going on too because not only did I have that medium coffee bevvie, but I also ate a sandwich fully loaded with banana peppers and Italian dressing which both give me heartburn. I know better than to put this crap in my body, but it tastes so good (with the exception of the Dunn Bros coffee, as previously mentioned...other coffee shops serve delicious drinks).

Earlier this week I decided that I was going to cut back on my coffee intake. It really hasn't been too helpful lately. If I have coffee in the morning, with or without the accompaniment of some breakfast, I end-up crashing before 2pm. When this occurs I need to either A: get more coffee or B: get a whole bunch of sugar into my system; both options make me crash by 7pm. It's an unfun cycle that I haven't quite gotten around to breaking, except I have stopped having coffee in the mornings. Lately I've been getting coffee in the evenings while I vainly take pictures of myself on Photo Booth while sitting in a coffee shop hoping that some cute girl will notice me and come over and introduce herself. Okay, I thought I wasn't really going to mention how I ended-up at Dunn Bros, oh well.

The odd amount of energy I have right now is utterly frustrating as tomorrow I'm planning on cleaning and re-arranging my room. I have so much fake fuel in me right now that I could have the whole thing done in about a half an hour and will be tired enough to fall quickly asleep, but as it's nearing 3am, I'm sure my housemates wouldn't appreciate me making a bunch of racket as I move stuff around my room. I'll wait until tomorrow then.

So what else is there for me to do? Blog until I have nothing left to say? Take more Photo Booth pictures? Upload more pictures to Facebook? Start chatting with friends who live on the other side of the globe who are awake at decent hours in their country? Or, mark this moment as the crucial point at which I realized that coffee and me don't mix well and vow to cut it out?

Thoughts: Keeping in Touch

Silence can be one of the most uncomfortable things for humans. It's strange, unusual, not something that we're used to in the world we now live in. If you walk for more than two city blocks in the afternoon, I bet you hear people talking to each other or they're on cell phones. If they're not talking, they've got earbuds crammed in their ears and they're drowning out the world with their new favorite songs.

I too find silence strange, but I embrace it. I enjoy it.

When I first moved into this house, I was having a really hard time breathing in my room, especially at night. I started to then realize just how dusty my room gets and there's no air circulation in here either. My mom had an air purifier that she wasn't using anymore and she gave it to me. Ever since the moment I plugged the thing in, it's been whirring away and I've seen a significant difference. There were two things about the purifier that I didn't enjoy. The first was that it's not silent by any means. In fact, it makes quite a racket. The second thing that I didn't like, and the reason why I turned it off for the first time tonight, is that it acts almost like a fan, sending a bit of cool air into the room.

It's already freezing in this room as it is, and I didn't want any extra chilliness in here so I turned it off and was immediately stunned by how quiet my room is when it is turned off. I can hear the fabric of my hood gently rustle when I turn my head to either side. I can hear the clicks on my keyboard but I'm partially convinced that now I can hear my keystrokes, I'm making a much more profound punch on each key.

But, when I sit perfectly still, the thing I hear most loud and clear is myself, my thoughts, me.

Think about all the things you do to busy yourself, how many ways you have of keeping in touch with people, how to stay informed with what your friends from high school are doing or what your sister's new cat's name is going to be. It is wonderful to have so many technologies that make it easier to stay in touch with others, though I doubt you have as many ways of keeping in touch with yourself.

You are the only thing you have your whole life. Your body, your mind and your soul. Don't simply get used to what you have, transform yourself into the best you you can be! Take time to listen to what you need. Unplug the things what whir and blow cold air.

Relax and examine yourself in silence.

The Vow

I'm a romantic person. I am also thoughtful. Sometimes what could be considered romantic gestures become cliche. Take for example: giving a bouquet of flowers. Now it's done all the time. Flowers are a kind gesture of thanks, condolences, etc, but it's no longer really all that romantic. They are however, thoughtful if given with a specific message or reason, or on an occasion that normally wouldn't warrant such a gift. Give me a few minutes and I shall calculate how many of these out-of-the-norm moments I've given someone flowers. Ah, yes. Seven. Each bundle beautiful and unexpected.

After the very last time I had flowers delivered to someone, I vowed that I'd never give flowers as a gift again. A portion of this thoughts that lead to this decision dealt with the devastation I was dealing with but also, it was during a time when I started paying more attention to my carbon footprint.

Do you ever think about the carbon footprint of sending a bouquet of flowers to someone? Think about it. The flowers are first grown somewhere in South America or Africa. I would imagine various pesticides and other chemicals would be deemed necessary to keep the flowers growing their best. So at the start, you have chemically infested blooming buds. These flowers are then trimmed and sent somewhere where they can be arranged or wrapped for delivery to a flower shop. So the flowers fly to Minnesota where they are placed in a cooler inside of a flower shop. The florist then spends time designing the arrangement you've requested and wraps it up for safe delivery by car or van to your sweetie's place of residence. It doesn't stop there. Once the life of her flowers have left, she'll certainly toss them into her non-biodegradable plastic garbage sack that'll she'll bring out next Monday morning. From there, the garbage bag will be loaded into a truck that will drive around the city collecting other bags of trash just to end up at a landfill where it will take literally years for the bags to break down, therefore taking up an unnecessarily immense amount of space.

I don't have exact figures or calculations of just how much of an impact sending flowers is, but I think from the previous paragraph, you should have a fair idea that sending flowers isn't just a simple sweet gesture. And if for some reason you do still think that way, then you might just as well stop reading this right now.

So my vow was to never again get or send flowers for someone. I did decide that any wildflowers I might come across, I'd gladly snip a few and after they've lost their life, I'd set them in my compost pile in my backyard.

Valentine's Day is coming up and I can't stop thinking about the amount of money and resources get wasted on such a commercialized day when probably over two thirds of the world's population either doesn't want to have anything reminding them of their loneliness or they don't have the privilege of sending their sweetheart a dozen roses that cost over $80.

Some people I know say that they don't like thinking about how their actions have an impact on everything around them; they say that it's too depressing to think about all the things they're doing "wrong" and all the things that they'll no longer be able to do if they focus on reducing their carbon footprints. Well, to be honest, I think that's very selfish but also completely inaccurate. Sure, there's an adjustment period, but once you've gotten past that, you start feeling proud of the impact you're making.

A crush friend of mine is in a play next month. Though I'm sure some of her fans/friends will be waiting for her with flowers after the show, I have just enough time to learn how to make origami flowers to give her after her amazing performance. Still thoughtful and slightly less cliche. And what's more romantic than someone taking time to create something just for you?

UPDATE (February 26th, 2010):
My not-review of the play has been posted.
No origami flowers were made.
I am using some of my tactics on "How to Stop Liking Someone" and they're working.

Operation Aoy

www.OperationAoy.com
Please go to the site and read the mission.

Aoy is one of the most caring women I have ever met. When I lived in Marquette, Michigan I frequently went to the Rice Paddy and loved chatting with Aoy while she made my special order vegetarian egg rolls. “For you, girlfriend, I make them special. Take more time, but taste good for you, vegetarian girlfriend,” she’d say. I’d wait two hours if I had to (and sometimes honestly did) because I can honestly say, her food was made with love.

Out of all the men I’ve met in my lifetime, Kyle is one of the most genuine. Life and brilliance radiates off of this man, spreading joy and contentment to each and every individual with whom he comes in contact. His photography skills are amazing and how he came to be co-owner of his own photography business is phenomenal. Being able to be a part of that process is so humbling.

I can honestly say that my life has been truly blessed by having these two people in my life. Passing the word on about their mission is one way that I can give back for the joy they’ve brought into my life.

Please, please read the mission of OperationAoy.com.
It takes 5 minutes to donate. If you read this please take the time to either donate or spread awareness.

Thank you.

Friends Over Thirty

Life dealt me a couple hundred decks before I was able to play anything other than Crazy Eights. And somehow with small hands, I've been able to play the cards rather well, but it's taken a lot of practice. Bluffing, cheating and quite a bit of luck have helped me on my way. I had a pretty interesting childhood. I've seen and been a part of things that would probably shock you and I'm not going to get into too many details right here because that's not the point of this entry, but believe me, shit went down.

I started taking care of everyone in my life because I knew that I could, I knew it was my purpose to heal them, to smooth the edges of rough conversations and situations and I got really good at it. I got very good at expressing myself, but not in the minute things were happening but rather later, discussing how I felt and how I'm feeling about future catastrophes. I grew-up talking to councilors and teachers. Those who were not immediately connected to the chaos of my life were easily trusted and became my confidantes. I could tell them anything.

The thoughts I had were unlike those of my peers, they were deeper and warranted more discussion than my friends' attention spans could muster. It started in middle school, staying after to chat with teachers and by the middle of high school, I would rather hang out with teachers in the lounge than sit with my peers at lunch.

It's not surprising to me at all that now some of the people that I consider my closest friends are at least in their thirties. Spending time with peers isn't difficult, but what I consider important in life rarely coincides with their thoughts and I can only handle going to clubs or sitting in crowded bars for about two hours before I feel that my intelligence has diminished.

On Christmas Eve day I was chatting with my dad's ex-wife who is now a very close friend of mine. What I've discussed in this entry came up and I told her how some of my friends think that I am "too serious" and to that I reply: "I'm not too serious, I just think about things that need to be thought about." It really is as simple as that.

Feeling, both mentally and emotionally, about twice my age really is strange sometimes. There's a part of me that wants my body to fast forward to catch up, so I'll be an established career person doing my thing with a house and dog and who knows, even a life partner and kids? And then there's my inner child that goes: "What are you even thinking?! You've got so many things yet to accomplish before you settle." And then I think, you know, I don't know if I ever want to settle.

Whether I settle anytime soon or not, I'm going to continue to enjoy my time with my friends, both young and less young and I'm going to enjoy the heck out of everything. Why not?

I've Been Cured

My first semester of college was transformational. I know people say stuff like this all the time, but for me it really was, especially musically. Since I was making friends with people who had very different music tastes than me, I was discovering new artists daily. I remember a specific day when Jackie, my prissy, anal-retentive roommate from Chicago came back to our dorm room one day saying: "Today's song of the day is Jack Johnson's 'Better Together.'" Having never heard that guy's name, but not wanting to let Jackie know that, I simply nodded and agreed that it was a great song. When she started working on her homework, I started downloading the song (illegally, I'll admit, but I've since quit), plugged in my headphones and gave it a listen. How had I never heard of Jack Johnson before that moment, how had I survived?

There isn't a really great answer to that question, but I was thankful that Jack was now in my life. Since I couldn't stand heaping doses of Jackie, I'd spend the majority of my weekends at Mandy and Ashley's (Mashley's, if you will). Their dorm room was well-equipped for my weekend get-aways and we always had a lot of fun even if we were just watching movies and eating too much ice cream from Cat Trax, the "convenience store" on campus. Sometimes we'd lay around reading or we'd do something creative, like painting the wood supports that lofted their beds. We'd listen to The Postal Service or Modest mouse and I'd never heard either band before then.

During my sophomore year (which has since been referred to as "The Best Year" of college by many of my friends), I started spending more time with Courtney as she lived just across the hall from me. We learned of each other's musical interests and started sharing our favorites with each other. She once made me a CD that had Katie Melua's cover of The Cure's "Just Like Heaven" and I fell in love with the song. Certainly I'd heard The Cure's version before, but I hadn't really taken to it I guess.

It's been a few years since then and I've come across other very talented bands and artists but perhaps the most exciting discovery was a rediscovery. Over the past couple of weeks I've discovered just how much I love The Cure and am amazed that I've gone so long without being absolutely addicted to them. This morning I decided that if ever someone were to ask me what my favorite band is, I'd confidently answer: "That's easy, The Cure."

So, for your viewing and listening pleasure, I give you a studio version of The Cure's "Close to Me." ENJOY!

Breaking News

There was an extreme earthquake in Haiti yesterday. I found this out from the television at the restaurant where Anna and I were consuming bevvies and tasty snacks for my birthday. While I watched the close-captioning scroll across the screen, absorbing the images that came with them, I suddenly realized that I couldn't pinpoint the last time I watched a news program. I then remembered that it was while I was home for Christmas and the time before that I was home for Thanksgiving and wouldn't you know?--the time before that was when I was home for Halloween.

Watching news shows really get under my skin. As a highly sensitive person, I can't handle watching or hearing about violence, disaster, or tragedies without first protecting myself. Instead of watching the news, I choose to read articles online which allow me more control over the information I'm taking-in. Unfortunately, I'm not actually getting my news from highly validated sources. I get my news from Tumblr. If something really intense happens, someone posts it on Tumblr and within an hour I know about it. Usually it comes with a link to a valid article and if it doesn't I might search to find more information. But that's not always the case.

I've realized that I stay informed with current events that are of interest to my immediate social sphere. For example, Elizabeth and I will discuss the new product gossip we've read about on the Lush Portal while we're at work. My lesbian blogger friends, lovingly called Tumblesbians and I keep each other updated on which celebrity has just come out of the closet and any new relationship news we've heard. My housemates and I will talk about new restaurants opening or bands that are playing shows in upcoming weeks. Politics, healthcare, global happenings are not things that my social groups discuss frequently, at least not with me.

When I used to be involved with organizations geared towards spreading awareness of same-sex couple injustices or environmental impacts, I was much more aware of how I discussed those things with other people in my life. I wanted to keep up to date on those topics because I wanted to contribute to those conversations, I wanted to have a definite position on topics that could arise and I wanted to ask constructive questions.

Regardless of the fact that I'm temporarily not working with any organizations, I should still keep myself up to date with the ongoings in this world. I am a part of this intricate Universe and if I am to positively add to it, I should know what I'm working with.

My Birthday Week

This is the twenty third year of my life. It started about twenty three hours ago. For all of 2009, though I was twenty two years old, I always seemed to tell people I was twenty three instead. I don't know where this idea came from and it didn't bother me, but when people ask me how old I am, I honestly have to stop and think about it.

This week has been dubbed my birthday week. Each day in some way shape or form I am celebrating my birthday:

Sunday wasn't too thrilling, but I did get a lot of reading done and I went to the grocery store, two of my favorite things to do ever.

On Monday I made an omelet for the first time ever. The excitement of this outstanding accomplishment, I knew, would be hard to beat.

Today, my actual birthday (technically I am writing this very early on Wednesday morning), was full of puppy chow and other good foods. I hung out with Anna, a friend I met from Tumblr and we had a great time at Hell's Kitchen. If you haven't been there, I highly suggest going, especially during happy hour when it's not crowded and the appetizer and drink specials are going on. Don't get the Tequila Mockingbird, even if you're tempted by it's clever name, it will not only taste sub-par but will also leave you wishing you'd just asked for straight-up tequila. And I never get just straight-up tequila. Flirt with the server, if her name is Rachael. And when you overhear that she does trapeze work, feel free to fantasize about that while she goes to get your check.

Tomorrow I'll be spending part of the afternoon with Tracy, a friend I met from work. She no longer works with me, but that's a long and not really explainable story. Anyway, she's got some soap for me, a part of my Christmas present that was en route to her when we had done our gift exchange. She'll probably have something for me for my birthday too, I'm not sure.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday I've got some long shifts at work but I'm gladly accepting the hours as I had too few offered to me during the holiday season. The hours that I'm home during those few days I'll probably never leave either the tub, my bed or my new desk that my dad got me for my combined birthday and Christmas present.

And technically this upcoming Sunday doesn't count as part of my birthday week, but I'm making the rules, so it does count. I'm having lunch with Mandy that day. I haven't seen her since right after she got back from Australia and since then she's had a trip to England to visit her boyfriend. It'll be good to see her again. That evening I'll be headed to my work's holiday party. We're having it a month late because it was impossible to schedule during December. I'll eat too much pizza and smile a lot. Depending on how late I stay at the party, I might meander down to the Gay 90's where I'll have a gay ol' time watching the ladies of LaFemme do drag. If I can convince Anna to dance a bit, we might get our groove on too. Who knows? I'll have to leave earlier than I did last time so I don't end up spending nearly twenty dollars to take a cab home. That was absurd.

And there you have it, my birthday week.