And another one bites the dust…

So I went to Durham to hang out with my girlfriend of six weeks, this past Friday.  On the way there, I had a funny feeling, like I really wanted to be at home instead of heading towards her fancy, Fort Knox-esque apartment building, for an evening of shitty chinese food, and no laughs.  Alas, that is exactly what I was in for, which culminated in my decision that we shouldn’t see each other anymore.  Shame, really; she is just so good on paper, and yet…something was missing.  And I realized that a lot about her irritated me, things that no one should hold against anyone else.  So I dipped.  She was upset, more so than I even thought was reasonable, which only reinforced my decision–she is entirely too sensitive for the likes of me, which is one of the largest contributing factors in the demise. 

And now, after six short weeks of some laughs and some sex, I’m happily single again…this time sticking to my guns about my resolution not to get involved with anyone until I have sorted my life out a bit better, and gotten a handle on a few crucial issues that have plauged my relationships in the past. 

Also, when she asked me what my views on monogamy were, all I could think was that if Dark Roast/Black Magic Woman and I had dinner that led to bed, I wouldn’t say no, or stop myself…a good sign that she wasn’t the woman I’ve always wanted.  I have a theory that when I finally find her, I won’t always wonder if the grass is greener; I’ll know it’s green enough right where I am. 

C’est la vie.

Curious…

My last post was edited, and not by me.  Mm hmmm. 

The paragraph where it cuts off after I said something about not being a proponent of cocaine and heroin–it should read that that shit is dangerous, and I don’t want anyone of age to have access to it, but it’s bad for everyone that touches it, etc etc etc…

It would appear I have been censored.  Very curious indeed.

Going Green

I’m going to admit something that I’ve never admitted to the interwebz before, right now:  I smoke pot, and I am tired of sneaking around behind closed doors, forced to engage in shady dealings with people I don’t want to associate with, in order to procure the gentlest plant on God’s green Earth.  I am tired of facing harassment, ticketing, and the insulting labels of ’stoner’ or ‘hippie’ or ‘addict’.  Here it is, people–I’m a productive, thoughtful, giving, intelligent, proactive, engaged member of society, and frankly, I’m pretty frickin sick of the government and a dwindling sector of society telling me I can’t take a puff…and yet the beer ads roll on and on. 

The thought that I just can’t seem to get away from lately is that we’re all engaged in this (delightful) trend of ‘going green’.  Energy efficiency, recycling, waste and pollution reduction, and alternative fuel sources are finally a focal point of serious conversation; it took us a while, but we got there.  All those topics are meritous, and will likely save us, if such a thing is possible, but why stop there?  If we’re gonna go green, let’s embrace green living in all it’s shapes and forms, and truly go green.  It’s time to legalize marijuana, and lemme tell you why. 

Back in 1937, the fedearl government declared marijuana illegal, for none of the same reasons that prohibition of alcohol had it’s brief success.  Marijuana wasn’t making people cheat, lie, steal, murder–no sir.  Marijuana was threatening the burgeoning textile industry, and that just didn’t sit well with the cotton barons, or their friends in the government.  And hence, the Marihuana Tax Act, and the criminalization of the cannabis cultivation and use. 

For years and years, I never really questioned the criminalization of this magical plant of which I am so fond.  I assumed that the government didn’t like people catching a buzz; that’s nothing new.  I figured the whole ‘gateway drug’ stigma had planted it’s roots so thoroughly that nothing much could be done about it.  After all, I’m no proponent of cociane and heroin becoming available to anyone of age–that shit is dangerous–and according to the feds, pot’s really no different.  But it IS different, and I know it, and maybe you know it, and no less than 75% of the people that I come in contact with on a daily basis know it, too; they might not be smokers, but they understand that it’s bad reputation is disproportionate to the harm it can actually do.

Now, I know that some people get carried away, and turn into lazy sacks of Fritos and Little Debbie, and give their lives to video games and jam bands with killer light shows; that is a truth.  However, there are countless people operating in this society, myself included, that indulge in the occasional, recreational usage, just like a social drinker might have a glass of wine on Friday night with some friends.  I am not a daily smoker.  I never posess a quantity large enough to merit anything other than a ticket and an annoying and unnecessaily expense day in court.  I pay my taxes, I fulfill my obligations, and I take care of my responsibilities.  Am I a bad person, a filthy drug addict?  I think not. 

I think this is the most valid time in history since the criminalization of marijuana to seriously discuss legalization, for a number of reasons that are relevant to our current situation.  First, the economy; if 50% of adults are actively purchasing marijuana on the black market–and I really think that number is fairly accurate for most urban environments, based on my personal experience in many different social/business circles–there is a windfall to be made from government taxation.  The feds should grow it, sell it, and tax it.  Viola!  Billions of dollars to funnel into our economic recovery.

Secondly, health care reform:  Marijuana is magical where illness is concerned.  This has been confirmed, time and again by well-respected scientist the wide world over.  If we want to worm our way out from under Big Pharma’s thumb, why not let the people grow their own medicine in their backyards?  Because that’s too easy, and the pharmacuetical industry stands to lose a pretty penny. 

Third, clean industry.  Cannabis/hemp grows three times as fast as cotton, and ten times as clean.  It’s uses are numerous, including food, medicine, textiles, toiletries, oil, concrete, paper, plastics, and any kind of structural building supply you could imagine.  Cannabis seeds are the 2nd highest source of protein in the world, right behind soy beans.  If we really want to build clean and efficient, hemp is the way to go.  This is not new news–lots of people in lots of different industries are highly aware of the fact that most anything they can produce in their factories from plastics, chemicals, and crude ore can be made in clean factories from a clean resource; all the more reason to keep it illegal.  Money, money, money. 

Fourth, our prisons are riduculously overpopulated by non-violent offenders that have been sentenced to time due to numerous posession counts.  These inmates are taking up space and resources that ought to be reserved for violent criminals; with prison overpopulation at a true straining point, on both our facilities and our budget, let those poor stoners out of jail and put them back into society where they belong.  I’m sure they would be the first to herald the Green Movement into being. 

I feel certain that in my lifetime, I will see marijuana legalized, and for that I am thankful.  I just want that day to be sooner than later, and not just because I want to be able to smoke a joint in public while my pals throw back shots of rot-gut.  I want our nation to come back from this economic slump, all gangbusters, and I want to see it happen in a way that indicates true forward thinking, to make our world a cleaner and greener place–to use their catch phrase. 

I, myself, cherish the days when I chose to smoke; my house has never been so clean, and my dog has never been so exercised.  Couch potato, shmouch potato. 

Seriously, enough is enough.  It’s time.  I’m right and the royal They all know it. 

On another note, I have started seeing a really wonderful woman that is sane, available, and 100% gay.   She has a good job, a nice car, and a nice home.  We have a lot in common, we have amazing conversation, and nothing has ever felt so easy.  It’s been a month now, and I haven’t felt the need to blog about it once, until now.  I’m still all swimmy from our art museum/gelato/dog walking date today, and I’m simply too thrilled to keep it to myself.   She is smitten, and it’s fair to say…so am I.   And I’m not even stoned.

 

http://www.recipenet.org/health/articles/101_uses_hemp_chart.htm

State of My Union

A friend recently informed me that my gentle complaints of not enough hours in the day could be chalked up to The Grind.  I guess I’m still on art school time, a year and a half later, and expect a bit more time and money for creativity and leisure than I am currently afforded.  Get up, commute to work, work, commute home, take the dog for a walk, make dinner, amuse myself for an hour, go to bed.  Repeat, repeat, repeat…  I am feeling at a loss for time to pursue the things I should have been doing the whole time I was unemployed…like painting compulsively, exercising like crazy, reading lots and lots of books, and laying in the sun.  Although I did these things whilst lacking employment, now I feel like I could have done them more.  

I have read nine graphic novels this last week and a half, so I’m not languishing intellectually or artistically, but my sleep is suffering for it.  I can only seem to find the time to read at 2 a.m.  Palestine and Safe Zone Gorazde, both by Joe Sacco, are incredibly moving, and incredibly important.  Read them yesterday.  

My dear friend E is getting married in two weeks on Ocracoke Island, so I have a wedding weekend at the beach to look forward to, which is fantastic.  I am soooo excited!!  I love a good wedding…and E and her fiance’ E both really like to drink good alcohol and eat good food, so it should be a feast of the senses, in every respect.  Our hotel is dog friendly, so Tonka will be attending his first wedding, and his second beach, the weekend of October 10th.  

I travel to Albequerque, NM in a month exactly, and I am literally counting the days.  It’s official:  we’re incorporating.  Although we will have no money and no official projects in the works, we will be a film production company by the time I return.  On paper.  This means any subsequent business trips, supplies, or shipping costs will be legally tax-deductable.  It’s a small step, but it’s the first one in a string of many, and we all think it will be a good catalyst…a fire under our asses.  Once we’re officially official, we can start fishing for funding and applying for grants.  Albequerque is a hotbed of independent film production, and as such, there is money money money floating around in the desert air.  I’ve heard tell of a grant for 15 MIL specifically alloted to women trying to break into the independent film industry.  And I’m guessing that once we have our storyboards created and our script written and the whole thing packaged real pretty for potential investors, someone is going to want to throw money at us (knock on wood).  We are, after all, The Dream Team.  Coming to a theater near you: ETA, Christmas 2011?  WallEye Productions, Inc…we’re going to make Tim Burton jealous.  Believe it. 

I’m convinced that Mariska Hargitay is the hottest MILF in the world.  All these SVU marathons on USA have really warped my mind.  But seriously, has anyone ever worn a leather jacket like that?  And don’t eeeeeven get me started if the stylist puts her in dark rinse jeans.   Not gonna lie, I’m real excited about the season premier tomorrow night.  Don’t call me between 9 and 10; I’ll be drooling at NBC and squirming a little in my seat.  I don’t hate watching Ice T, either.  He’s such a bad-ass.  

Tomorrow should mark the completion (finally!) of my father’s art truck, painted by yours truly.  I’ll post pics sometime this week.  It’s real hot.  Hotter than I had dreamed it could be.  The hood medallion and detailing on the tail gate really give it some extra oomph.  People stop my dad every single day to talk to him about his truck; I couldn’t ask for better for better advertising.  Once I get my website up…hopefully, the orders will roll in.   An art car is a luxury, for sure, but so are those atrocious nursery murals people are so fond of.  And those become dated within a few years…an art car will always be stylish… 

It’s hard not to spend money.  I have a goal of saving 5K in the next year (7K would be optimal) and as of now, I can’t manage to get more than one paycheck away from dead broke.  Frustrating.  All I’m spending money on are life necessities–gas, groceries, flea/tick treatment for Sir Tonks, and yet I’m still scribbling by til next check.  Something always comes up.  Keyless entry for my car needs a new battery–$75.  Cracked the screen on my cell phone 11 days after my insurance on that model ran out–$100.  Long over due trip to lady doctor–$330.  Impending visit to the dentist–my left hand?  I really have to get an Etsy store up and running, and see what I can manage to sell to art lovers that love Etsy.  I need to find a way to make some extra money and not have to sacrifice my weekends and evenings to a second job.  I don’t think I could stomach that.  Any ideas?  

Alba makes the most delicious face products.  

My cat loves to hate my dog, and my favorite part of my day is generally the fifteen minutes when I get home from work and Tonka does flying 360s and then launches at the cat, who stands her ground and does a hissing dance of her own.  It’s hilarious.  

I’m so fucking sick of hearing this ‘debate’ over health care.  What’s to debate?  More than 45 million Americans don’t have any insurance, and scores of those with insurance might as well not have any at all, what with the cost and the quality of care their insurance affords them.  There are no Death Panels, except those that exist inside the insurance companies, who have been deciding for years that palliative care is much cheaper than treatments, or the simple fixes deemed as ‘preventative care’ have no merit until they are catastrophic and debilitating illnesses.  Third world countries provide better access to health care than the United States.  Slovenia, for cryin’ out loud.  Where’s the debate?  It’s broken, now fix it.  I’m edgy that these supposed changes won’t take place until 2013…when someone else might be in office to veto these changes.  Just do it.  Do it.  Pull the troops out of the conflicts in the Middle East that we’ll never win, stop syphoning money to the Israeli government for their continued settlement of the ancestral homeland of millions of displaced and abused Palestinians, and focus up on what’s wrong at home.  Our presence in the Middle East is hurting, not helping…us or them.  We need that money, and those men and women, at home.  

I’m going to be Octomom for Halloween.  I’m gonna win that costume contest, yes I am.

Adios, Summertime.

It’s cooler now, thank god.  I can sleep again at night without being glued to my sheets.  What sweet relief.  

Since I am on the Path to the Dream now, with said Dream requiring a good deal more capital than I have at my disposal, I have put myself on financial lock-down; I bid adieu to my freewheeling summer of leisure (and a spot of work), and have buckled down, working as much as possible, as often as possible.  This includes my full time job, where I was just promoted, hallejulah praise jeebus, as well as all the freelancing I can manage.  The NCSU theater dept. is (luckily for me) staffed by only five people, one of whom being a graduate of my alma mater, with whom I have a delightful working relationship with.  Being as short-handed as they are, they’ve snapped me up as the top on the short list for overhire.  Additionally, I have a show at the beginning of November, and I plan on opening an Etsy store.  

This is a little experiment I’m conducting, hustling and saving saving saving like I’ve never saved before.  Mainly because I’ve never saved before.  My easy-come-easy-go attitude towards money is not unique, but it IS counterproductive to accomplishing my goals at this point.  As such, no more bars, no more eating out, mostly–I have allowed myself one dinner out every two weeks, and one lunch out per week, so long as it cost less than $6–and no more expensive socializing.  I am a champion of sitting at the bar for seven hours on a Sunday afternoon and lazily drinking away $40.  Nuh uh.  No mas.  

My goal is to not only become healthier, and drop the need for alcohol to be involved in my every social interaction, but also to save 7K by the end of next summer.  I think I can do it, if I really stick to this plan I’ve laid out.  It’s been two and a half weeks so far, and here’s my stats.  

15 breakfasts/lunches packed or eaten at home. 

17 dinners eaten at home. 

2 lunches out, 1 paid with gift certificate, the other costing $4.80. 

1 dinner eaten out, paid for by someone else. 

1 art walk, free.  Drinks after paid for by charitable older friends in the 40+ set. 

1 afternoon spent on the patio of a brew pub with aforementioned 40+ set, only drink: water. 

I think this exercise is going to be good for me.  My relationship with money is a flawed one, and I need to fix that, so it will stop standing in the way of me reaching my goals.  My credit is fixed, after two years of doing the right things, and now if I crack down for this next year, I think I can make my bank balance reflect my dedication to a healthy, stable life.  

I thought it would be torturous, and at times, I know it will be, but so far, so good.  I have spent my free time hiking with my dog–good for both us–playing my accordion, sketching and prepping for my show/Etsy store, and hanging out with my brother, who, having just started middle school, needs all the positive reinforcement I can give him.  Add to that a neighborhood cheese and wine function (free, clearly) that spiraled into six hours of art and stimulating conversation with a group of people who I’ve always loved, but until now, couldn’t move past viewing me as Little MM from 1994, and I’ve had a good couple of weeks.  The neighborhood folks apparently enjoyed my adult company so much that they requested my presence yesterday afternoon for an instant replay of six more hours of convo.  So not only am I saving money, but I’m making new (old) friends in the process, and exploring another side of Raleigh.  It’s good. 

I’ve booked my tickets to NM for the end of October, and simply can’t wait to get to work on the project with My Ladies of the West.  By the time I return, we should have a production company formed, sans official paperwork–that comes later–and the skeleton of a story to begin work in earnest.  I could not be more excited or confident that this is what I am meant to do with my life.  That, my friends, is an incredible feeling.  

Now, the 7k to get me there.  

In other news, I friggin’ love my car.  It’s perfect and beautiful, and the novelty and new-ness of having a high performance vehicle still surprises me every morning when I open the front door.  I feel 17.9% hotter behind the wheel of my Saab sports wagon, turbo.

Unexpected for a Monday

As I’m absolutely, mind-numbingly bored with the backlog of 7,000 medical files that are currently being transcribed, I took a good two hours to chat online with one-half of my favorite lesbian couple; they have recently relocated to New Mexico, and I am feeling their absence keenly.  They have been there for about three weeks, and although they are legitimately two of the most artistically driven and talented people I’ve ever known, even Trader Joe’s won’t have them.  K is feeling overwhelmed and disheartened, and I gather from D’s facebook status updates, I gather she is feeling much the same.  I can certainly sympathize, having come off of my eight months of unemployment (sans the bennies) and walking straight into something that went from a dream job to a dull job in just four, short months.  I’m not ungrateful that I have a job; I’m simply painfully aware of the fact that I’m wasting a load of skills and a hard-earned degree on this desk job.  

Long story short, K and D and I have spoken several times before about how it’s likely we’ll have to create the jobs we want, as they don’t seem to exist in the Real World.  And so, via Yahoo messenger, on the clock, K and I (with D via satellite updates) agreed to go on ahead and do what we have always dreamed; we’re gonna make a movie.  I’m not going to talk content (yet) as we are clearly still hammering out the details, but suffice it to say, if all goes according to plan and funding comes through, I will temporarily move to Albuquerque, NM for the duration of the production, hopefully to begin in summer 2010.  

Maybe it sounds like a flight of fancy to just decide to make a movie and then imagine that it will all fall into place, and we’ll get to go ahead with our dream.  Maybe it sounds unrealistic to you, dear Reader, but I know–I know–that if we truly dedicate ourselves to this venture, we can’t fail.  K is the most talented visual artist I’ve ever known, D is an incredible builder and artisan, and I’ve got a bag of tricks up my own sleeve, least of all the ability to write a script.  To ice this stellar cake, we have a network of people that would gladly hop on board with us, if we could offer them a fair wage.  Which we will.  

My life is such a whirlwind…I know that some of you who know me will think, “Uh huh, and last week you were sold on moving to Durham.”  But that was last week, and that didn’t work out for the immediate, and life rolls on.  I’m tired of drifting and searching; I’m ready to hone in on just one thing, and really go for it, to be able to look back and at the very least, say that I tried.  That I gave the world my very best, regardless of reception, and I tried to make my mark, made my voice heard for a just a moment, and that I was proud.  That I was dedicated and committed and inspired.  That I worked hard because I believed.  

Here is my intuitive vision for the next year:  I anticipate that I will hole up in my new place in S. Raleigh, avoiding socializing much in a bid to save as much money as humanly possible, while working around the clock on grant proposals, production company legalese, script writing and picking out what dress I’ll wear to Sundance.   I will take time out to eat healthy, exercise my dog (and myself) and go to my job.  I will have dinner with my family once a week.  I will see my friends every other weekend.  I will be tired, and sometimes lonely, but I will work and work and work as hard as I have to make this happen.  Because this…this is My Dream.  It always has been.  I have always, always wanted to make movies, and as of today, I’m letting go of my fear of success, because I’m damn sure failure isn’t even a possibility.  Dream Team 2010: Go.   

For now, research, research and more research.  Thank god for Google.

A Summertime List

Things that please me:

1.  My beautiful, shiny, new (to me) 2003 Saab 9-5 Linear sports wagon.   It’s fully loaded in a way I’m not even entirely sure how to operate as of yet, with radio controls on the steering wheel, secret pockets everywhere, a moonroof, nifty drink cup holders in the smallest, smartest places, and five different options for how I’d like my airplane transmission to operate.  I feel like I need more education to take full advantage of this car.  I have, however, managed to figure out that it goes zero to 60 in about three seconds.  Operation Leadfoot, underway.  All my years of driving like a granny to avoid the police have left me itching to speed.  U h   o h.  

2.  My brother is in a sweet phase.  Fingers crossed that he will continue to smother me in hugs until…forever.  I didn’t like those three months when he would tell me to shut up and go away every time I saw him.  Teenagers.  

3.  My impending move back into Raleigh.  I’m escaping the quiet clutches of JoCo in a bit less than two months, and as much as I’ve appreciate my mother’s hospitality, I’m real ready to move on.  My brand new best friend in Raleigh, E, and her husband, E2, are moving to Hawaii for eight months, and they need someone to essentially keep their life warm.  E’s freelance job as a prosthetic maker’s assistant, paired with their furniture and two kitties will be in my charge until roughly next July.  E is an interior designer by trade, so their two bedroom/office/lovely kitchen/giant backyard home is just my style.  

4.  I have two serious offers on the table for art cars.  This could, in fact, turn into a legitimate business.  The interest generated has been nearly overwhelming.  Sweet.  

5.  The Indian Princess has invited me to spend the weekend with her this weekend.  Call me crazy, but I’m not so sure it’s a friendly offer.  What straight girl invites an interested lesbian to spend the weekend with them?  None, right?  I will be sooooo disappointed if she tries to put me on the couch.  I have already promised myself that I will promptly leave if that comes to pass.  

6.  I have a tan that would seem to indicate that I have had a lovely summer by the water.  This is mostly true.  

7.  I’ve had an offer to illustrate a childrens book.  I get to see a rough, rough draft tomorrow, with sketching to begin almost immediately.  I would be The Most thrilled if the book actually got picked up, after completion.  I’ve always wanted to illustrate childrens books.  

8.  Did I mention I am in loooooooove with my car?  I feel like it’s elevated my status, and as materialistic and crappy as it sounds, I don’t mind.  Somehow, I feel like more of an adult now that I have a nice car that I’m paying on, monthly, that I chose.  Not another hand me down that makes me look like I’m 45-at-a-glance.  Free cars are nice, but nice cars are never free.  

9.  Mowing the grass is an awesome chore, and it makes me feel zen every time I do it. 

10.  My Netflix subscription streams so nicely into the laptop I bought for at-home work; I have gotten through six of ten seasons of Law and Order: SVU.  God help me, I need a girlfriend.  

Things That Displease Me:

1.  My job is really starting to bore me.  The summer is the slow season, and a majority of what we have to do is medical for now.  Medical transcription makes me want to throw my computer out the window and dance on the sputtering remains.  I’m hoping that once the bigger accounts get back from vacation, the interesting work will start to filter back in.  However, not working with my hands, regardless of the occasionally interesting content, is slowly driving me bonkers.  I’m a tradesman, not a secretary.  It’s stable work, though, and that’s all that matters right now.  

2.  I haven’t slept well in a week because the humidity at night causes me to stick to my sheets, which I then obsess about until 3 am, when I become so frustrated I stay up until 4, rolling around and trying to unstick.  

3.  I still haven’t won the lottery.  What the hell.  

4.  I’m creatively flummoxed, with my days going as such:  get up, commute to work, work from 9 to 5, commute home, walk the dog for an hour, cook and eat dinner, play the accordion and then the day is gone.  It doesn’t leave a lot of room for painting.  Right now, this is okay, but it won’t be for much longer.

5.  My weight loss is still stuck on a plateau.  I know that the secret is I’m drinking wine again, and I’m not exercising as much as I should, so I shouldn’t really complain, but it still pisses me off.   I have to get back on my swimming regime, but it makes my skin and hair so dry…hmph.  

6.  Paired with the above, I am so sick and fucking tired of people only being interested in me when they’re drunk.  Just all of a sudden, I’ve hit a breaking point.  I’m genuinely pissed off about this.  I swear, if one more woman tells me how beautiful and awesome I am when she’s loaded, and then won’t make eye contact when she sobers up, I’m going to slap her in the teeth.  

7.  And paired with both of the above, I am about done with my regular class of suitors: straight women that think they might be curious.  I realized that I’ve only dated one real, live lesbian in my entire dating history, and this alarms me.  What is it about me that makes straight women wanna be gay for a minute? What is it about me that tolerates this?  A self-defeatist attitude?  An inability to be attracted to butch lesbians?  A brand new (old) way to punish myself for unknown crimes committed against…myself?  All I know is I simply can’t convince anyone, ever again, that I’m worth being attracted to; either they’re into me, and they’re okay with that, or they’re not.  I can’t waste time and energy on the in-between any more.  All I want is someone to put in a little effort for me.  I’m worth it.  I am.  

8. BMW.  She is displeasing me lately.  We are ‘being friends’ again, which has included a few phone calls, some facebook chats, and two very pleasant dinners.  The problem is that we are still really, really drawn to one another, and I was honest with her about the psychic reading I’d had, and her response was, “I love you, I do love you, but I just don’t think of you in that context.  I never have.”  This, from the woman I spent two years with.  Never thought of me as a girlfriend.  Well, eff her.  I don’t think I want to waste time with someone I will always be a little bit in love with, that continually manipulates me, flirts with me, tries to seduce me, and then pushes me away with hurtful words.  I’m not old enough or rich enough.  Though she would never admit that these shallow reasons play any role in her feelings, I know that it’s true.  I know her well enough to see through her Buddhist shield of non-attachment and enlightenment to read between the lines and decipher the gray areas.  Just like me, she prefers older women.  Which I can never be.  Irritating.

9.  Quitting smoking is hard.  I’m not having any success.  

10.  I’m cranky tonight, for reasons I can’t divine.  I just want to go lay in bed and watch Law and Order, but I feel like my mom would worry if I did that.  Maybe I’m ovulating and my hormones are surging; this is likely.  The older I get, the more aware I am of ovulation; I get PMS twice a month now.  Joy.  I think maybe I should see a doctor about how tired I feel all the time, lately.  Maybe it’s the fact that I still never get more than 6 hours of sleep a night, but maybe it’s a deficiency.  Wouldn’t it be lovely if I could just take a vitamin every day and feel perkier?  I want that.

Mid-summer Update

…although I guess technically, the summer is more than half over.  Not being a student anymore means that there’s a bit more flexibility with a summer end date; if it’s hot, it’s summer, so far as I’m concerned.  

(There is a commercial playing on TV right now for the ‘Wee Wee Express’–an astroturf piss pad for people too lazy to take their dogs outside, I suppose.  Shameful.  But the product name is kinda hilarious.)

I’ve officially hit that point in the summer where I’m tired from all the fun and socializing.  This is a good thing.  I’m not complaining, but I’m still exhausted.  My low level of constant fatigue makes me think I either need to have my blood sugar tested for diabetes, or that I should really, really try to curb staying out late on work nights, and packing so much activity into each weekend that I barely have time to rest up for the new week in front of me.  Firecracker would call this A Good Problem, and I agree.  There’s something about the summertime that disallows me to stay still for too long; the nights are warm, the water is fine, and gin and tonics never taste so good.  

On Sunday, I pick up one of my dearest high school friends, a woman that I haven’t seen in eight years, and we’re heading to the Outer Banks for a week of salty relaxation and some long overdue face time.  Too say that I’m excited would be an incredible understatement.  When I return, I’ll be celebrating my 31st birthday with my family and another dear friend and her husband, visiting from Philadelphia, as well as Rawse Durham and Barefoot, at the delightful, delicious Sitti, Neomonde deli’s version of fine dining.  There is something about turning 31 that fills with a unique kind of dread–now I’m not just 30, I’m In My Thirites.  I guess it stands to reason that I am actively trying to find a station wagon to buy, officially being in my 30s and all.  

In honor of my 31st birthday, a brand new set of Five Year Goals to set my sights on…I made five year goals when I was 25, and I’m happy to report that I met a solid 2/3, which is well more than I expected.  

1.  Lose 100 lbs. to achieve my post-surgery goal weight.  90 down, 100 to go. 

2.  Buy some property in Appalachia.  20 acres would be the most desirable, but I would happily settle for five.  

3.  Write a book and go through the process of trying to get published.  Publication is not the goal, only the completion of the book.  

4.  Achieve fluency in Spanish.  I’m so close.  So very close.  

5.  Start a band and play original music in public.  

6.  Plant a food garden that will provide 25% of my food. 

7.  Visit Croatia, Prague, Paraguay and Chile. 

8.  Volunteer more time and donate more money.  

9.  Take one online class per year.  

10.  Kayak in a phosphorescent bay, on a moonless night, while under the influence of magic mushrooms.  

11.  Learn to cook Indian, Thai, and Mediterranean cuisines.  

I think that should keep me busy for five years.

Will God Ever Forgive Us For What We’ve Done To One Another?

I freely admit that the headline quote was ripped out of Blood Diamond, the last good thing Leonardo DiCaprio did on film, but the sentiment holds, even if the phrasing isn’t original.  I’m not so sure I believe in God but I can’t escape the feeling that Our Creator, whateverthat might be, would be awfully disappointed if they sat in for a while.  

I’ve avoided posting on the blog for a while because I have too much to say.  I can’t condense and refine my thoughts for my own understanding quite yet and I certainly can’t articulate for anyone else why random scenes on the media move me to tears, not for myself but for most everyone else.  It makes me feel a little batty, if I can be honest.  Tonight, I had the Bourne Identity playing in the background as I sketched, and I happened to zone in on a scene where Bourne all of a sudden remembers what happened on the yacht inMarseilles, involving some educated, scandalous black man and his young daughter.  Seeing Bourne hold his gun to that man’s head as he held his daughter…it did something to me.  All of a sudden, I wasn’t thinking about the movie anymore.  That shit happens in real life all the time.  And the guy with the gun doesn’t always do the right thing.  

North Korea doesn’t do the right thing.  

The Israelis and the Palestinians don’t do the right thing.  

All those regimes in African countries I don’t hear about on the news are neglecting to do the right thing.  

The cartels in Central and South America, they’re not doing the right thing.  

The United States wants to believe we’re doing the right thing, but I’m starting to think we’re a pretty misguided bunch, so I’m gonna have to say we’re not doing the right thing, either.  

Why we wanna hate so much?  What are any of us fighting about, at this point?  We’re a global community that’s glutted the world with junk and poison.  We’ve managed to create and bring to life some pretty magnificent ideas, accomplishments, objects, and humans along the way, but where’s the argument?Really?  Is it oil (money) to drive our tiny, aerodynamic cars all across the paved land, and power our planes and our boats in the pursuit of global commerce?  Is it religion, the truly hypothetical conflict ,with faith only as the proof of right or wrong?  Is it our cultural differences, mixing it up and stepping on toes the wide world over?  I mean, we’re all cramped up on this little ball, floating around in the middle of the Great Big What? and all we can manage to do is kill one another while we slowly kill ourselves?  I’m not worried about the planet; Earth will pull through.  She might decide to take a nap after all the effort of that (coming) great big Ice Age, her plate tectonics subsiding once again, as all the land sinks back to the center and towards a fresh start, at an undisclosed later date…a natural reaction to our poor behavior of the last 50 or so years.  

I have to believe that we’ve got a fighting chance, that all the conscientious and loving people can grow a pair and come together and try and put things on the right track, so that at least all the babies in the world right now might get a shot at enjoyment and fulfillment.  It can’t all be gloom and doom, and I know that.  I know also that I’m a hypocrite, because I still drive, and I’m eating a peanut M&M and smoking a cigarette right now, and I’m not currently out volunteering my time to worthy causes, but I’m doing my part, piece by piece.  Or at least I’m trying to be more thoughtful in everything I do, and I’ll call that A Start.  

But I think the thing that made me cry tonight was the notion that we’ve probably already gone too far, with our religions and our crazy-multiplying population and our weapons and our  70 billion tons of melting methyl hydrates that will own us with it’s global warming in a pretty short amount of time (google that shit if you don’t want to sleep tonight–it’s played down on the wikipedia and such, to avoid panic maybe, but it’s real and it’s happening and all the textbooks will tell you so).   Not to mention the dirty bombs and the biohazards and the toxic waste, the business and the politics of our ‘free’ education and the processed food from 2,000 miles away and all the prescription drugs to fix any ailments or worries that might pop up due to any of the aforementioned.  Why?  Seriously, I don’t get it.

The sun shines and the rain falls, as babies smile at the people in love that created them, and all the while, a still-warm vine ripened tomato makes a mouth sing with it’s bounty of undiluted vitamins and minerals.  Wind blows, weather happens, songs are written, kites are flown, and people die.  A constantly shifting, never-ceasing river of simple joys and natural miracles takes place every day, all the time, as a relatively small group of greedy moral degenerates continue to call the shots for us all.  They certainly screwed it up good for the whole lot of us.  

You know what I have to say about all that?  Fuck them.  [I'm about to curse a lot, so scroll down if you don't want to read it] Fuck the machine I didn’t help create and certainly don’t want to support; I’m tired of them making decisions about their own best interests at the expense of mine and ours.  How much money does any one person need?  Fuck big oil and military contractors and all the blood on their hands.  Fuck stretch Hummer limos and the assholes that rent them for their kids to have a ’safe’ ride to the prom.  Fuck malaria, malnutrition, dyssentary and AIDS–preventable, every last one.  Fuck illiteracy and No Child Left Behind and 25% budget reductions in state supported education, and fuck Nascar’s tax shelter, while I’m at it.  Fuck John and Kate, and OctoMom, and everyone from the Hills, and–I’m gonna say it–fuck Michael Jackson; he made some good songs, had some killer dance moves, spent some money on charity in the 80s, and then he went crazy,  whereupon he probably molested some kids, bleached himself white, and overdosed on pain killers and anesthesia.  How is it that he’s been so glorified, managing to totally overshadow the on-going atrocities in the Middle East, and North Korea’s little test drives over Japan?  Because our priorities are totally fucked, that’s how.  All the apathy and complacency and sensationalism in the world is just…fucked.  It’s fucked that I’m still a little paranoid being at home alone, even though I have a big ole dog to protect and cuddle me, and it’s fucked that the heat-seeking helicopters wake me up at night due to their flight path out here in the sticks, this crusade for home grown pot, our tax dollars hard at work.  Fuck the piece of paper I got in the mail telling me right there in black ink that my social security will only be available until the age of 54, at which point the well runs dry, and fuck the juked stats on current unemployed.  The health care system in this country can just go fuck itself, and that’s all I can really say about that.  Fuck Sarah Palin, just ‘cuz.  

You know the really amazing part about this whole equation?  I’m happier than I’ve ever been.  There’s something totally liberating about believing, in some deep-down place, that we’re all engaged in taking a short jump off a long cliff…recognizing the signs of our ultimate demise has stripped me clean of most of my materialistic preoccupations and my teenage rockstar fantasies, and has allowed me to fully recognize the beauty and the gift of this life: the necessary and the beautiful.  Family, friends, lovers, sunshine, water, nature, laughter, art, education, curiosity.  

I hope one day down the road I can taste the irony in the fact that this little realization will likely lead me down the path of helping to Make The Change.  ’Cuz it’s coming, and the choice we get to make is the trajectory of that change: for better or for worse.

(sigh of relief)

My aunt’s mystery lump is only a pre-cancerous mass (a ductile carcinoma) that can be removed without taking the whole breast, and radiation and chemo are simply options, not necessities.  This is good.

My stepmother got a mostly-clean bill of health, with instructions to never try to donate blood again, and the suggestion that perhaps she should give up her beloved red wine to treat her liver as kind as possible.  Her liver function test came back normal.  This is good.  

The not-good:  after much research in housing markets, and detailed projected budgets, I have come to the realization that I can’t afford to live in Asheville.  At least not right now.  You see, I know by now how I won’t live anymore, and this includes living in large, beautiful houses in ghetto neighborhoods, or tiny, cramped apartments in good neighborhoods.  I want what I want, and what I want (what I genuinely need) is a 2 bedroom house with a decent sized yard for my dog, with room left over to garden.  I have to have a home office/studio, and I would like to have a place for guests to stay when they come visit.  I just want to feel civilized, and comfortable, and functional.  Come to find out, as a single person, I can’t have that in Asheville, not on my (notably decent) salary.  

So come visit me in Durham, and help me promote myself in Asheville in the interim.  I want the rich people to already know me before I get there, so that I can have all those things that I need and want by the time I arrive.  

Wa wa waaaaaaaa.