Sunday, February 19, 2012

Holy Crap it's 2012!

February 19th 2012:

Wow, 2012... how'd that happen? This is the year of the dragon... a time of change, and so far the dragon has been tossing me around quite a bit.

Got laid off from my soul-suck of a job a couple weeks ago. After the initial period of indignant rage and stress, things have settled, and I am really quite happy, possibly for the first time in almost 5 years. No more 7-days a week work schedule, no more offices and cubicles and spreadsheets and corporate policy. I feel healthier, my skin is better, those dark hollows under my eyes have all but faded away.

Lesson learned. I will never again sacrifice health and happiness for a paycheck.

Also, according to nut-jobs and Mayans, this is the last year for us earthlings... we've reached the end of the line, adios see ya. I don't really buy into the whole "end of days" things - seems like every year since about 1999 I have heard of one reason or another it's all going in the shitter (Y2K, anyone?) - but if this is it, and the world implodes or whatever in December, at least I won't have spent 2012 in a windowless room doing mindless tasks for a bunch of corporate dick-holes.

How will you spend your last year on earth?

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

It's been a while

November 3rd 2011:

Dear god, where has the time gone? August, September and October flew by with no time to spare. Working 7 days a week, close to 80 hours a week leaves little time for blogging, socializing, hell... even eating or showering is a challenge some days.

The tattoo apprenticeship is going good, though I wish I could speed myself along and feel as confident with a tattoo machine in my hand as I do with a pencil or paint brush... but it will come.

Even now, it is difficult to sit still and write anything. No time for thoughts or reflections. I am home sick from work and should be resting, but there is laundry to catch up on, dogs to take care of, neglected art projects, abandoned sewing projects, emails to write, cleaning to do... sigh.

Until next time... just breathe, it will be okay.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

On Getting Older

July 17th 2011:

So here it is again, that pesky devil of a day, another notch in the wall of time - my birthday.

It's the day where you get asked, do you feel older?, where comments on your crow's feet and gray hairs (imaginary or real) become acceptable, where the kinder folks say things like, you don't look a day older than 23, or you really look good for your age...

After a certain point, people start tagging that line onto things... for your age. Like, you're thin for your age, your skin is pretty good  for your age, you dress pretty cool for your age, and so on into eternity.

I got the new issue of Vogue in the mail the other day... the "Age Issue", of course...

But, you're only as old as you feel... or is it, you're only as old as you act?

Anyway, enough nonsense... I've got my new boots on (thanks Chrissypoo), my is chin up and I'm off for breakfast and drinks with friends! Happy birthday, indeed.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Dream Birds in my Backyard

July 15th 2011:

Strangeness abounds... some days more than others. I wonder sometimes if dreams are based on reality or if reality sometimes can be based on dreams. Or if there is really a difference between waking reality and dreaming - perhaps they are both equally relevant and true.

I sent this email on July 12th (click to make it bigger):

Yesterday, while on the phone with Kay, I noticed a flash of blue outside the back window. I looked outside and a bright blue bird the size of a small rabbit was sitting in our tree staring at me. I went to grab my camera, and it had moved on to the neighbors yard, but I managed to snap this pic from afar - just to prove I'm not either totally nuts or a huge liar...
The great and powerful internet tells me this was most likely a California Scrub Jay - I have never seen one before today, but it is eerily similar to the giant blue bird of my weird-happy dream. Is this a good omen? Or merely cooincidence?

Who knows...

Monday, July 4, 2011

Independence and All That Jazz

July 4th 2011:


Also, independency. the state or quality of being independent.
freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others.
Archaic a competency.

It is kind of difficult not to feel that the good old Fourth of July is just a bit of a farce. We celebrate our independence from British rule, the rule of the church and the main reason those colonists fought oh so long ago.... freedom from taxation by Great Britain.

Yet here we sit,  in a country where teaching creationism in school is actually up for debate, where you have to stand 20 feet from public doorways to smoke (while carbon-monoxide pumping SUVs blast by - you think that shit isn't screwing your lungs up you self-righteous cough-when-you-pass-a-smoker fuck?), where gay folks can't get married, where you pay through the nose for everything, even good ol' H2O, where corporations rule over all, and where your paychecks hemorrhage money to what, you might ask... TAXES.

They have taxes on everything it seems - anything you buy, on your time and hard work, even on your death. But thank god They can pay for their wars and that new football stadium and their summer vacations; meanwhile, We can't even get decent public heath care or decent public educations. Seriously, light your fireworks and sing "America the Beautiful" if you must, I only hope that at least someone out there thinks about what it is they are celebrating and how far away from the founding fathers' original intentions we have become.

But enough ranting - in other news, I pulled off my first color tattoo yesterday! Today, I made my very first potato salad, sans the direct guidance of Lady Face (though thank you much for emailing your recipe!!), and friends will be over soon to help me devour it, along with veggie burgers and whiskey and beer and whatever else I have hidden about the house.

Hooray for Independence.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Time Time Time

July 2nd 2011:

Time is just flying by of late. I can hardly believe it is already July, and I am only a couple weeks away from that dreaded marker of just how old I am getting - my birthday. Sometimes I wish I could step back and slow things down for a bit, maybe have a minute or two to actually enjoy things, you know?

June was a month of craziness - big changes at work, some important decisions to be made regarding the future, the art bug hit and a painting storm ensued, art went up in Fremont for July, there were shows to attend and friends to catch up with, and the husband jetted off to Canada for a few days, then off on tour... currently I hear he is stuck in traffic outside Las Vegas, fun fun.

The last couple weeks, ones I thought I could use to chill and get some personal time in, have sped by in a whirlwind, leaving me dazed and fuzzy in the head (last night's trip to not one, but four drinking establishments may be a little to blame for the fuzziness, but what can you do?).

My pre-birthday goal this year: to get down to what I weighed when I was 20 - 106 pounds. So far, I have managed to shed 10 pounds (hooray) thanks to a crazy little phone application... that means I only have 4 pounds left to go. I think I just might pull it off!

Now, the dryer is buzzing and Roland is chattering away to let me know it is dinner time... there's an itch in brain to take a real stab at a second novel (I have virtual drawers full of half completed books, those poor wretches), and a friend will be over shortly for a mini- girlie pajamas, wine and movies party.

I'd best get my ass in gear and my act together, because it is already almost 7 pm and time is flying.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

So long, old pal

June 16th 2011:

We brought him home on the ferry, a fiery little puppy from the islands. He was the runt of the litter, stumpy legs and giant head and the pissiest little face you have ever seen. It had been love at first site.

He was a challenge, to be sure, this puppy that Chris named Priest, the most strong-willed puppy on the planet. He peed on every square inch of floor in our house, no matter how many times he was let out. At least once a week, we would hear Mama Kay screaming in the early morning hours as she skidded down the hall on a trail of poop (oh how he loved pooping right outside her bedroom door).

He ate countless shoes and socks, a wallet, a hundred dollar bill, snowboarding goggles, a week's worth of sandwich supplies, a box of nicorette, a 12 pack of toilet paper and so on... we won't even mention the time he ate a loaf of bread, bag and all, nor will we mention the ensuing drama caused by the passing of that bag (which had been swallowed whole). He dug the carpet up in front of our door and dug a tunnel from the backyard to the front. He went home with countless joggers, slipped his color and escaped fences, and had to be bailed out of doggy jail two or three times.

But, he was also gentle. A big, huggable bear that would sleep at the end of the bed and dance and chitter in his husky speak when you came home. And he loved his kitties, first Zone, his papa cat, then Oz and Fattie, who he would carry gently in his mouth when they were no bigger than his muzzle.

He to grew up to be a wonderful dog, albeit with some quirks, like eating used tissues from the trash and his "magic tricks" (look, I made your toast disappear!) and his ability to sleep soundly through just about anything.

When the earthquake hit Seattle in 2001, he was the only one in the house (maybe the city) to sleep through it. In 2006, when some punk tried to break into Kay's house in Phoenix, using hedge clippers to pry open a window, he also slept through that, leaving a groggy post-operation me to deal with scaring the bad guy off, only waking to acknowledge the arrive of the police with a disinterested snort from under the kitchen table.

I got an email today, from Mama Kay. The kind of email with a subject line that says "bad news"...

Priest was 12 years old. In Kay's words, "It seems like just yesterday we had this little black and white puppy on the ferry from Bainbridge, how quick 12 years can go by."

No more orca, no more froggy, no more devil dog... Beastie, you will be missed.