"at least my penis isn't bleeding"... really?

sorry, i'm listening to [house] right now. anyhow, there's been a lot of success these past few [weeks]days. i've made a few tiny hats, one of which was promptly purchased. that was pretty awesome. i've started working on another one, buttons. that's right; buttons. oooooh.

class is going pretty well. i think today proved to be the most productive so far. we actually started talking[albeit we only really introduced ourselves, and said what we thought our role is in class]. the flier is made, and to-be-stuffed on friday. i'm just hoping i'm not the only one that shows up. i mean, i think i'm the most accessable pupil since i can bring olivia with me to class, and i have a car available. i'm gonna try to kidnap elfie and (what'sa)trung to help out.

i'm actually really excited about this.

i'm not sure what i should be feeling.

my grandmother is in the hospital again. she had/has cancer. it's the thyroid. they did surgery a while ago to remove it, and they knew they weren't going to get it all. then they did iodine treatments, and she stopped eating. then she was pretty much o.k. until she went to her check up, and they said that it wasn't gone.
she didn't want to go through chemo, we all knew that, but the iodine wasn't so bad i guess. so she had a second surgery scheduled for last friday (the 9th), and they said she did really well, and they got all of it, and they were going to resume the iodine soon. they said she was doing so well that they were just going to put her in her room instead of the i.c.u.
so my mom called me today to let me know that she had coded. my aunt called her to let her know. so, suck.
(a fantastic song just started playing on my pandora!)
i can't say i'm really... sad, it just seems like a shame. i can't say we were ever really close, another shame. i can't say how i feel, maybe i'm waiting to hear one way or the other. people die all the time. she believes in God with a big "g", and she's at peace with her lord (or whatever it is that gets you in heaven), so she's prepared. i mean, at the first diagnosis she was ready for death. not in a morbid sense, just in a realistic way. who knows, maybe i'm just being realistic too. we'll see.

Hello 2009?

Well, recently I have wondered the validity of "new years resolutions", and even the significance of the new year in general. I suppose for me, it's just an easy date to remember. Nothing more. It also troubles me that an entire planet uses the same event to measure time. I know there's a Jewish calendar, and the Mayan calendar, but widely, across the planet, it is the year 2009. Not to mention the several years we've lost as records-keepers were quite inaccurate centuries ago. It's not 2009, it hasn't been 2009 years since... was it Christ's death, or birth? When are we even measuring from?

Yet it is a good time to remind oneself that goals are a good thing. Fuck "resolutions". I feel this term is for the unimaginative. I was inspired by my dear friend Elfie to re-visit my goals I'd previously invented for myself, perhaps three years ago. It reminded me that there is more to life than the unfinished business here at my house. I am reminded that there are other facets to me, that I've forgotten about. Places I want to travel, things I want to see, and, well, I've never forgotten that I want to move from this shit-hole of a town.

Elfie reminded me just how crucial goals can be. Especially for the soft-of-mind. I've become very forgetful in my mothering-days. It's like a drug that takes away the peaks, like when I was in labor. At the end of the day, no matter how annoyed I was, or upset things made me, I will undoubtably say I had a good day. I don't know if it is my programming, or just that I have a blissful amnesia of the days torments. So the memory gets altered, Olivia goes to bed, and my day feels like it's really starting around 7pm. I get alone time, I get to spend time with Ezra, I get to watch a movie, check my email, do the little tasks around the house I wanted to do, but Olivia would destroy (she's a little... haphazard).

I like having substance, rules, goals, due dates, an end product. I like to be able to look at my accomplishments. I also like the fact that I am that artsy chick I always thought was cool when I was growing up. I like that my shirts have home-made stencil art on them, that I can show up to a party with a hat I made (mostly from scratch), and that people compliment my work. I like that I am that chick, finally. And my husband is freaking making guitars in our kitchen! I love that level of creativity.

sitting in a drafty house

it's cold today. everything was frozen when i got up, and i think my zucchini plant is pretty fucked. every once in a while i sit down to "blog" with grandiose expectations, and then i completely forget what inspired me in the first place. i suppose i could write about my psychotic mother. well, psychotic probably doesn't work, but there's something just-not-quite-right about her.

so here goes: an attempt to let this shit go!
yesterday we were getting together to go to my sister's house. it's about an hour drive, and my mom gets home around 2 in the afternoon, so i tried to get there "on time". now, keep in mind this was a leisurely trip to have fun with my sister and her kids. i left my house about 10 minutes to 2, expecting to hit every red light on my way, because i was in a hurry, and we all know what that's like. i wanted to be heading to my car at 1:30, but Oli was napping, and i hate having to wake her on purpose. so i did, and she was channeling all of the hate of the world through her fat little cheeks, and protested every step of the way. (did you know, toddlers have the capability of going completely limp, and they do this thing with their arms to make them all slippery? i liken it to when a snake un-hinges it's jaws, but kinda the opposite.) so i was a little late.
when i pulled up to my mother's house, she walked angrily to my car to scowl at me. (oh, back up a second. when i was 2 blocks away from her house my cell phone rang, and i didn't answer it because, well, i just don't want to ever give any law enforcement the excuse to pull me over.) so we arrive at her house, and she also channels all of the hate of the world at me through her eyes, the scowliest scowl to have ever scowled. "Hi," i say. "You're late," she replies. Ok, here we go! "I'm sorry, there was an accident on my way here," i reply (no lie, a major street to get to her house was totally backed up, some ninny had a flaming engine in the middle lane and no one knew what to do!). her anger doesn't subside. "You know, I am sorry, it's hard to deal with a screaming toddler the whole time I'm attempting to get her ready, I didn't mean to be late," still hatred, "Would you like me to go through every reason I'm late? because I can, I got Olivia up at 1:38, she screamed at me when I brought her downstairs, I changed her diaper, and she protested when I tried to put on her shirt, then I fought her to get her strapped in the car, and she finally settled down. I hit every red light on my way here, and there was a huge accident on Air Base [parkway, the major street]." I explained in a heated fashion, I was quite annoyed at this point. "It's almost 2:15. You said you'd be here at 2." WHAT THE FUCK! I mean, didn't I just explain?
I was really REALLY close to calling her a bitch. I mean, really! "Look, it's not like i wanted to have a psycho toddler. I really am sorry." Why the big deal? When I was on my way home later last night I checked my phone, she called me at 2:07. 7 whole fucking minutes late. where's the proportion in which this was blown?! I mean fucking get a life! seven minutes doesn't make that big of a difference.

i wish this wasn't such of a rant, but it is, so whatever. perhaps next time i write a blog it will be all inspirey or something.

learning from life?

there was a stripper that looked a lot like me. not like she could be mistaken for me, but we had similar bodies. it's sad that i had to see someone shaped like me to realize that my shape actually is sexy. i think that's one reason why i feel so connected to portland. strange, but true. when she walked on the stage, she commanded my attention. she wasn't stick thin, she wasn't perfectly toned, she was beautiful.

i was looking through old magazines last night, just relaxing in the living room by myself, and i felt truly attractive. i can't say i've ever really felt like that before. i felt beautiful, sexy, and like me. it was nice. i still feel like that today. it's a relief, opposed to the frump i've felt, well, forever.

i'm here, but i'm still not back.

i went to portland. it was wonderful. not to just see those people near and dear to my heart, nor to meet new people, but to feel like i finally belonged somewhere. a woman said to me that "portland is what san francisco wishes it was". that statement rings so true to me. i didn't feel shunned, or scoffed at in any store we walked into, i didn't feel mediocre in any way. it felt, well, like i just went home for the first time. no melo-drama, just fact. everyone there was so kind and polite. if you bump into someone, there's an apology, in the 5 days i was there, i encountered one asshole driver. 1. i mean it, just the one. no one honked, no one sped up on my ass, no one cut anyone else off. it was the largest small town i've ever been to. i've been back here since monday night, and i'm still in oregon. it's sad, i wish we were there so badly. ezra isn't sold on the idea yet. obviously, having never been there, he's skeptical. and i'm on my way to being heart broken.

i guess it really doesn't matter where we end up, "as long as we're together"... so cheesy, but apropriate. i was quite lonely in portland, sort of. it was nice being switzerland. i was the neutral ground. i suppose that's how you can tell if you're a cool person or not. i am: no chance at pussy, because i am married; a confidant woman (again, no chance at the kitty); totally unattainable (sexually); and... yeah, a cool person. people still wanted to hang out with me, probably more so once they found out that "my family" wasn't a cult.. haha..

driving "home" felt so empty in context. i was so excited to be back with my family, but the location made me want to heave (what's new?). the colors are all wrong here, the hue is off. and i've already invited Elfie to move up there too. i think she'd thrive there. hell, i think anyone with an open mind would thrive there. everyone that i talked with that grew up there loved it.

but really, i was watching Sesame Street with Olivia earlier today, and we caught a segment with Grover. i suddenly had a flash of how i used to feel when i lived on my own in san francisco. after Davin left, i would hang out with Kim. she came over and asked me if i had anything to put on her Grover doll's head to make a Super-Grover. so i gave her a little metal dipping cup i'd gotten from some restaurant somewhere. strange the things that thrust you into another time. it was comforting to feel that in my belly. i can't describe it well. it was warm, and a sepia-orange. i think it was my confidence. i can't really think what else it could have been.

completely sidetracked.

i was hunting through music to put on the good ol' iPod for the roadTrip... and i came across that which i'd been remembering a lot recently. it's beethoven. i can't really "label" myself as a fan of classical music, but i do find it enjoyable at times. it takes me back to a time when things were simple. it's one of the piano sonatas, (Moonlight) (1) Adagio sostenuto -- attacca. i know, that's a frickin mouthful. but the music speaks to my soul. this is the song i can't live without.

it's strange how utterly sidetracked i became before sitting down to write this. all of the urgency has escaped me. the fucker from down the street came home blasting his music from his "bumpin' stereo" or whatever the kids are calling it these days. keeping oli awake is all i care about. and the music only got louder. so i went to my drive way, where i could see the culprit, and he didn't realize anyone else in the universe existed. so i haughtily stomped back into the house, grabbed the air horn, went back to the driveway, and let loose. it was gratifying, and he stopped the music. of course, i'm passive aggressive, and i assume everyone else is, so i promptly went back inside, locked the front door, and continued to watch my hands shake with adrenaline. kind of a lame use of adrenaline, i know, but that's what happened.

then i logged into my blogger, and caught up on friends blogs that i'd neglected for a little while. so, here i am, still in love with that song, and in hate with my effing neighbors, searching through album after album on my husbands itunes.

by the way, "hilarious" is something i will always mis-spell. i always put two "l"s. fun times.