dream journal.

i dreamed last night that i found a secret basement in my grandparents' old house that was full of my grandmother's amazing vintage clothing, arranged by decade, from the 1940s through the 1980s. there were purses and shoes and tons of dresses, hung on rolling racks. it was VERY exciting. all the clothes fit me perfectly! there was some sense that everyone wasn't going to just let me have as many clothes as i wanted, which made me feel upset, but mostly i felt confident that i was going to plunder that shit like a viking, regardless.

then i woke up and it was just a dream and i haven't been to that house since my family sold it 10 years ago or so. it was fun being back there, because i love that house and i was too young and head-up-the-butt to really do anything about it being sold and i've always regretted that. in my dream it was a little more 'marie antoinette's house in the country' that in was in real life, and everything was covered in drop cloths, but it was still an overall pleasant dream.

white woman's guilt.

i'm not sure what it means that i haven't been writing here.
i haven't been writing anywhere, really.
haven't worked on my book seriously in months.
haven't meditated.
i dunno.
i feel a little off kilter, but not dramatically so. just a smidge.
i'd like to be doing those things more.
but not enough to actually do them apparently.

one thing i have been doing is pilates.

did i mention i'm doing teacher training to become a pilates instructor?
i am.
here's where i'm doing it.
it's fantastic.
it's changing my life.
i'm excited, proud, challenged - everything good.
i'm doing pilates about 5 times a week, and feeling stronger, so cool.

that's not really what i want to write about right now, though. maybe a little bit not really.

i want to talk about me feeling guilt over my lifestyle.

so, i'm not working.
that's not new.
i've come close to looking for a job a few times in the last year or so, but shannon felt like having me at home, managing the house and taking care of the dog, would be worth more than whatever smallish amount of money i'd be bringing in. and, given my eternal 'nyeh' over working, and general lack of vocation to speak of, i am totally fine with that set up. i'm actually not that good at being a a housewife and have really had my shortcomings thrust at me through this, but i'm developing really helpful habits, which make me an infinitely easier person to live with, i think.

so, i'm not working.
i'm married.
my husband is really handsome.
though we have our ups and downs, and went through a rough patch there a little while back, we're really happy together and totally in love.
we own our own home. (well, the bank owns it and we're buying it from the bank, but you get my meaning. our monthly payments are going towards something that we will eventually reap the benefits of, unlike renting. the fact that most of the payment goes to interest in the loan isn't the topic of discussion right now, but it should be, some day. fucking banks.)
i have awesome hair.
i get many services, that are very pricey, done for me for free, or at huge discounts, by incredibly talented friends.
i have many of the things that one pictures when they're thinking of success in the modern world and money. (new mac laptop, newish iphone, multiple ipods, gucci sunglasses, etc.)
i spend a very large portion of my time working out, doing a type of exercise that is usually insanely expensive.
i travel to fun places fairly often (LA, NYC, BALI!!!).
my body is pretty close to what the magazines say it should be. i'd be a plus size model for sure, but i'm in proportion and i'm closer to the ideal, physically, than a lot of people are.
one of my main responsibilities is to look after my dog, who is pure bred.
i am able to shop at whole foods (whole paycheck) exclusively, unless i feel like going to trader joe's for something.
my hair care and skin care products cost more than some people's haircuts.
i don't have kids, by choice, which means i only have to worry about myself, my (ridiculously handsome) husband and my pets.

what i'm saying is, i am living a life that a lot of people might consider perfect.
i'm not complaining.
my life is freaking awesome.

but, because i'm a human being and this is our eternal struggle, i experience unsatisfactoriness.
sometimes i lie in bed and dread going to the dog park AGAIN.
my hair looks wonky, or flat, or boring.
my forehead is short (really more of a threehead) and i can't have heavy bangs like i'd like to.
my skin and hair care products refuse to change my life the way the magazines tell me they will.
i want MORE things.
i tried on bikinis at target yesterday and looked WRETCHED. like, dimpled and jiggle and bulgey. really, really bad.
for all my working out, i look nearly the same as i always have, as far as i'm concerned. i'm not in smaller clothing sizes, for one thing.
i feel like i'll never lose weight, never look good in a bathing suit, never wear shorts or a short skirt without a hint of shame and fingers crossed that no one looks too closely.
i wish my mom was still alive.

what i mean is, i'm just like everyone else.
i want things that i can't have.
i don't want to do the things i have to do.
i am not happy with the hand (or midriff) i've been dealt.
i wish i was younger still.
i regret choices i've made.

and every time i say anything remotely negative about my situation, or express anything other than blissful contentment, i get scolded by people for being unappreciative of what i have.

it's gotten to the point where i am leery of even sharing my negative feelings about things, for fear i'll offend someone.
i feel like i need to couch everything in apologetic terms "this thing happened and it sucked. (i know, rough life.)" "totally stoked on my life, but wish i didn't have this thing to deal with." why am i apologizing for having the feelings i have? am i not allowed to experience unsatisfactoriness because i have a great life?

and what makes people think that not working, or having money at all, automatically means blissful contentment? do rich people seem happier to you? their families more functional?
look at ebenezer scrooge, man. he was rich a hell and he was miserable!

so, spoiler alert, guys: having money doesn't solve all your problems. it solves some. it creates others. me not having to work doesn't change the fact that my forehead is too short for the bangs i like so much on other people. it doesn't make me 17 again. it doesn't bring my mom back.

all it means is that i have more hours in the day to myself, which also doesn't solve anything. still not writing. still manage to piss entire days away sometimes. still mismanage my money, wish i had more/new/better clothes. still wondering which handbag will complete me as a person. still not doing anything about darfur.

it's true, i'm not sacrificing my life for kids, or having to make serious budget cuts, or wasting hours of my day and years of my life at a job i resent.

but i don't have everything figured out, and i still struggle with life, and i have just as much right to wrestle with my problems as someone who lives in section 8 housing, or someone with cancer, or someone with alopecia. i don't feel like my not needing to work cancels out my right to expect compassion over the things i struggle with, even if they're not life or death struggles.

you know what?
i don't know many people who are dealing with situations that are literally life or death.
and agreed, in the grand scheme of things, i fully recognize that i am lucky to have a torso at all, or a threehead, or an undervalued home. yes, i am lucky to be alive and not being raped a bunch in a refugee camp. we all are. does that mean that the people who are facing foreclosure on their houses don't get to worry about their problems? are they supposed to just be thankful for the fact that they're not facing refugee camp rape, and shut up about their financial concerns?
because if so, i expect a GREAT deal less complaining from pretty much everyone in the entire world, outside of palestine and darfur, 'kay?

of course i am thankful for my life.
my life is amazing.
that goes without saying.
if you hear me posting FML stuff, then you're welcome to tell me to shut up.
actually, you know what? even then, i'm allowed to be bummed for a while.

body.

hey!
it's been a while!
i'm not going to get into a recap.
i'm fine.
doing well.

but i'm here to talk about something specific.
i'm having some body issues.

i just started pilates teacher training.
it's very exciting, but mostly totally terrifying.
i never did sports. i never took dance or gymnastics. PE was often the only class keeping me from getting straight A's in grade school. i have never been in great shape. i've always been a reader, or a TV watcher, or a sitter-arounder-and-chat-and-smoker.
but when i was grieving so intensely the winter after mom died, i spent a lot of time working out. i did a lot of cardio and i did weight training at the gym. and i really liked it! i was very, very surprised because i'd never really enjoyed anything athletic before, but it totally hit the spot for me.
then i fizzled some on the gym, and i've been pretty sporadic about it, up until a couple of months ago, when i got really serious again.

i work out for many reasons, but the main one is that i want to lose weight and have a better body. when i was working out before i totally didn't see a difference, at all. shannon swears he did, but i don't really remember him ever telling me. i was mindful of what i ate, but i didn't sweat it too much. so i always assumed that the reason i never noticed more of a change, with my sudden dramatic increase in exercise, was that i wasn't eating right. maybe i needed to decrease my calories?

so this time around i've been trying to monitor really closely. i'm counting calories. i'm logging work outs. i'm measuring myself and weighing myself. and i'm still not really seeing anything.

so, it's only been a couple of months. that's one factor, i'm sure. i'm 30 and i'm sure my metabolism is slowing down, so i need to be patient. i still eat some carbs, and have to really struggle to keep myself away from sweets. i should probably quit all breads, but no carb diets just aren't sustainable, and i don't think carbs are inherently bad. i'm all about some complex carbs. but i should definitely quit sugar, and maybe gluten.

i dunno.

i'm just feeling really discouraged. i'm working so hard and it's hard to want to keep going when you're not really seeing the results. i know the goal is to be healthier overall, and it's a lifestyle change, not just trying to get thinner, but let's be realistic... I WANT TO LOSE SOME FUCKING WEIGHT.

i'm starting to get a little bit crazy. i feel like everywhere i go there are women/girls of all ages who have way better bodies and in my head i semi-obsess over what they know that i don't know. i lost a bunch of weight right before i met shannon, because i was eating these gross energy bars for breakfast and lunch and drinking tons of coffee and smoking cigarettes. one of his first orders of business after we met was to wrench the nasty bars from my hands, and shame me into smoking less, and i totally gained all the weight back, which is obviously fine and much better. but on some level, i consider buying a case of those bars from costco. i consider only eating bars, and taking vitamins and drinking water. i sometimes feel like i can only handle total control (basically anorexia, which i absolutely don't have) or no control (eating whatever.)

i don't really think i'm "fat" by conventional standards, and i'm totally within my healthy weight range for my height. but i don't want to be on the outer edge. i want to be in the middle, or towards the lower end. i am sick of feeling like i'm a bit chubby, or being embarrassed about my soft tummy. i feel like my difficulty losing weight is a total condemnation of my willpower, that i'm weak and a quitter and can't do it.

the person i see in the mirror is different all the time. somedays i feel nearly willowy, which is kinda my dream. many, many says i wake up feeling gigantic. not really gigantic. just kinda swollen. big. heavy. ungainly.

i'm trying to forge a new relationship with my body, after barely communicating with it for about 27 years. i don't understand how it works and i find it totally mystifying and very frustrating.

i wish i could see myself through a few other people's eyes, so i could get a better sense of how i'm doing and what i look like.

anyway, i'm not quitting. i'm going to be a pilates teacher someday, and so help me god, i will not be the chubby teacher. (i go to spin class and whenever there's a chubby teacher i can't help but wonder if they're doing it right, because if you're doing spin all the time, i'd think you'd we 90 lbs.) i'm not quitting, i'm going to keep on working on it and i'm not going to give up.

but i'm really discouraged and afraid nothing i do will make any difference, i'm just destined to be 'the birth of venus' forever. it could be worse.

it can't fail!

okay, so i have had a brilliant idea and i am basically on the brink of becoming a millionaire.

here's where it came from...
shannon and i went out to dinner at a mexican place we used to eat at all the time but then stopped going to. immediately upon finishing the meal, it became clear why we never eat there anymore...it makes shannon ill.

oops.

so i thought, 'sometimes you eat something and wish you hadn't a kinda want to take it back...'
and VOILA!

you guys....vomitoriums!

wait for it.

yeah! I KNOW!

so, here's my thinking, just spit-balling...

ladies are out for a bachelorette party.
they want to eat a giant steak dinner, with baked potatoes and bread and rolls and everything. YUM!
but they also want to go out dancing afterwards and no have to deal with post-meal sluggishness or bloated food bellies.
so, they come to my upchuckery!
they rent a group room.
they check in and trade their clothes for some robes and slippers. (no terry cloth. getting vomit out of terry cloth is a nightmare. i think.)
they waddle into a large tiled room, with showers and stalls and troughs and sinks.
they do their business.
they shower, if they feel so inclined.
they leave the room and head into the powder room, where complimentary water (cucumber, lemon, fruit, bubbly, flat, cold, warm...so many types!) is available. also saltines.
there are sinks where they can use toothbrushes (which we sell, and which come with free toothpaste and mouthwash!), wash their faces, reapply make-up, use some perfume from the perfume bar, and get ready to go out again.
maybe they want to lay down a solid layer in their tummies so they can drink a bunch!
we have a cafe that serves tummy friendly foods!
chamomile tea, papaya enzymes, chicken soup, grilled cheese, salads with mild dressings, ginger ale...
so they eat some, get gussied up and head back out, skinny and smelling better, but having enjoyed a lovely dinner!!
IT CAN'T FAIL!

so, that's one market.
maybe we have a ladies' night package.

obviously the bulimic are an option, but we can't count on them. they're not going to be our bread and butter. (get it?)

another market is drunk people.

either they want to keep drinking, or they're too drunk and want to start sobering up somewhere that isn't a bar bathroom. either way, we're there for them.

we'll have private rooms (NO SEX!!), semi-private rooms, and public rooms.
you check your clothes at the door, and they're returned to you, smelling better.
maybe we have sober up specials, where you can rent some of those capsule sleeping pods that they have in japan for a couple of hours to help sleep it off, and then we'll throw in a free breathalyzer before you leave. overnight parking, for a fee. free shuttle with certain packages? (just riffing.)

obviously we'll open our first branch in las vegas, because where else will there be so many stupid people doing stupid things they wish they could take back, right? from there, we'll see. i'm thinking...the marina? hollywood?

my only problem...a name.

ideas? the upchuckery isn't going to sell itself. we need something less barfy.

spring cleaning, mom, her scent.

it's spring time, everyone. rebirth, fresh starts.

a fresh start for our storage space to not be a nightmare teetery box maze.

shannon digs, and i examine the finds. much of it is mine, from our moves and our tribulations. the pressure to decide, item by item, on the importance of any individual thing of my mom's was simply too great, and i'm afraid i erred on the side of 'put it in storage and deal with it later.' shannon politely, sensitively, but firmly asked me to reexamine the boxes, so they could be labeled and stored properly.

one box was CDs of music i will never, ever listen to. vince gill, enya, so much andrea boccelli.

one box had binders and files and folders - receipts and deeds and notes and letters, none of them useful, aside from copies of the birth and death certificate of my grandfather, the commander.



as i pulled the flaps of one box back, it exhaled the smell of my mom, a punch in the stomach. it was a box of her clothes, the ones i hadn't given to goodwill. and they had retained her smell, despite being in a manky cardboard box, in our musty, dusty storage space.

the smell, you guys.

it was still there.

those are the things we lose and can't ever retain. i know i've written about it before, but it keeps coming back.

the smell of someone's life.

the texture of her skin.

the shape of her nails.

the contour of her shoulder meeting her neck, where my head fit perfectly.

the sound of her blowing her nose, first thing in the morning.

these are the things that fade away.


i know HER, in my bones, back to front.

i don't need her here to tell me how much she loved me, or that she was proud of me.
i don't need to ask her what she thinks about things because i can already just know.
i wear her jewelry all the time, her clothes and purses and shoes and scarves.
the archaeological record of her life was remarkably thorough.

it's the soft parts that decay first, is what i'm saying. the hard bones of her life surround me, but the feathers and fur and breath are going and mostly gone now.

except this box - this amazing, miraculous gift of a box.

for a few minutes, i could bury my face in her scent.

and, being me, as i marveled at the discovery, i was already preparing for the disappointment of its loss. just by smelling it i was mingling my own scent with hers, corrupting it, exposing it to the invisible smells of our house, our life, and all the things we take for granted.

i've been through this a million times, with various pieces of her clothing. i'll find it and realize it smells like her. i'll keep it, so i can smell it carefully, with restraint. can one sniff away all the scent molecules of something? is that possible? just in case, i practice moderation in my sniffs.

but then the temptation is too great, and i wear the item. and for a day or two, it's magic. the primal message of safety and security just wraps me up and i lose my head, forget moderation and planning for the future.

and then the smell is gone and i'm left with another piece of my mom's clothing, special for its proximity to her, but now smelling like boring old me. or, i imagine it smells like me, since i can't smell myself.

so i open the box, and bury my face in it. the clothes are silk and velvet - quintessential mom clothes. i tossed the t-shirts and sweat pants and athletic socks because who the fuck cares about them, but these are the clothes of her soul, basically, and i couldn't part with them. i burrow deeper and deeper into the box, pressing the cool fabrics to my face and inhaling a little bit gluttonously.

the smell isn't exactly right, actually, but it is very much closer than i've been in months.

i watched her die, in that hospital bed in her bedroom at home. i held her hand as the last breath left her, and her smell was the same, even as she died.

now i haunt the world a bit, always seeking that smell, sniffing after strangers, just in case. i look completely normal on the outside, calm and mostly untroubled, and i am. but there is always a part of me searching for her in everyone i see. you never know. maybe there are scent twins in the world somewhere, and i will find hers by chance. maybe that scent twin will recognize my scent, and we'll embrace like long-lost family and i can bury my face in this stranger's neck and feel like i'm home again.

compassionate fascism.

so, i started a new blog, compassionate fascism.

i've been feeling like i might want a second place to share stuff that isn't at all related to my mental/emotional state. sometimes i'm not feeling like pouring my heart out, but i *am* feeling like sharing a youtube video of a cat riding on a roomba. it feels weird to post something that silly on the same place i post about missing my mom, so i thought i'd keep them separate. i know there are some people who read this blog to see how i'm doing, who may not be interested in the things i'm looking at on the internet, for whatever reason. uncle keith may not want to read the hilarious recap of this week's episode of the reality show 'the pick-up artist.' (though why he wouldn't want to is a mystery because duh. i don't even watch tv and i am interested in hilarious recaps of anything.)

i've also been compiling ideas and thoughts of different kinds and i wanted a place that made them easier to find. so, if there's a beauty product i love, i can put the suggestion there so it's easier to search for. or a list of kid's movies that i think are pretty good and won't make you want to die if you have to watch them a thousand times. so those will go there, too.

finally, i have been working on my political system, compassionate fascism, for a long, long time, but it's such a huge idea and huge project that posting about it here would take things in a different direction. so, since it's based on my own impeccable sense of right and wrong, and it being imposed on the country at large, it seemed appropriate to post ideas about that here, where i am already telling you what i think you should like or not like.

anyway, i hope you'll like them BOTH, for different reasons.

if you're feeling inclined, you can become an official FOLLOWER of my blogs. if you already have a blogger account, it's easy to do. it's nice to know who is reading this, and it's a nice way to make me feel like i'm not writing into a vacuum. no pressure. but it would make me happy if you did.

i'll be back soon writing about deep stuff. don't worry. it won't be ALL cats-on-roombas from now on.

loveliness.

fleet foxes were amazing on SNL this week.





it makes me happy that there are young men who are expressing themselves this way.

grab bag, miscellany.

this is our new doctor!



* um...ew. just...ew.

* my homeboy (in my head), gabe, at videogum, breaks it down about new reality show, bromance.

* i seriously, strangely, love me some posh spice, but this is just excessive.

* i dont get many chances to use my 'val kilmer' tag.

* i've been feeling so excited about obama lately, but i felt kinda sad for GWB and his final presidential address. being a lame duck must be a terrible feeling, after being the aggressive male duck of the walk for so long. don't get me wrong. hey, GWB, don't let the screen door hit you on the way out of office, 'kay? but still. i root for the underdog, even when the underdog totally destroyed the country and encouraged policies that dragged the entire world into financial catastrophe. he has feelers, too, guys! (i like the part in the second article, where he says, basically, "you might not agree with the tough decisions i made, but you can't say i didn't have the guts to make those really bad, horrifying decisions that everyone in the world thought were appalling." it's both funny and true, because (a) i don't agree with your decisions and (b) i can't deny you made those decisions.)

* it's so lame that someone as gross as this guy gets to have a bunch of money while people who work hard can't make it happen.

* i bought this for you for your birthday. or christmas. i can't decide which to use it for.

adzuki bean mills.

so, we got a dog. this is him. his name is adzuki bean. mostly zuki, or bean.
he's a shiba inu. as a puppy, he looks like a little fox kit, obvs, which is almost unbearably cute. when he grows up, he'll look like a fox mixed with a husky, kinda.
him and the cats are learning to cohabit. he thinks the cats are awesome, and would like to spend more time with them, maybe with their faces in his mouth. they are not enjoying his company.
i'm sure i'll have tons of mind-numbing anecdotes to share about him, but i'll leave you with this stuff for now.

the second picture is zuki on his first canoe ride with shannon.

i have more to talk about, but i need to get going on my holiday cards, if i'm going go get them done at all.

ugh, i'm such a fan dork.

new gabe and max video, you guys!



i laughed so hard i felt like i was going to throw up.

this is HELLA my favorite one.

i posted all of them a little while ago (october 21 blog) so please feel free to watch them all, because they're pretty much all really good, but this one...

ohman, this one...

booktopia.

this is via ithyle.

This is a list of the top 100 books ever published. Supposedly, the average person has only read 6 of these books.
This is what you have to do:
1. Copy the list on your blog.
2. Read through the list and mark the books you've read in bold.
3. Italicize any you started, but didn't finish.
4. Color the ones you loved in green. (Or whatever color, really.)



1. The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
2. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
3. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
4. Lord of the Flies - William Golding
5. Life of PI - Yann Martel
6. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
7. The Color Purple - Alice Walker (i've seen the movie about 100 times. does that count?)
8. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
9. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
10. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
11. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
12. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
13. His Dark Materials (trilogy) - Philip Pullman
14. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
15. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
16. The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien
17. Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
18. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
19. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
20. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
21. Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis <---oh, i smell a rat. this isn't a book, it's a series and how can they have one book from the series alone beneath the whole series, as a separate entry? especially since they kept 'his dark materials' together? hmm...
22. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
23. Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne
24. Animal Farm - George Orwell
25. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
26. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
27. On The Road - Jack Kerouac
28. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
29. Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White
30. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
31. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
32. Complete Works of Shakespeare
33. Ulysses - James Joyce
34. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
35. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
36. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
37. The Bible
38. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
39. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
40. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
41. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
42. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
45. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
46. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
47. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
48. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
49. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
50. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
51. Little Women - Louisa M. Alcott
52. Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
53. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
54. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
55. Middlemarch - George Eliot
56. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
57. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
58. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
59. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
60. Emma - Jane Austen
61. Persuasion - Jane Austen
62. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
63. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
64. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
65. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
66. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
67. Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery
68. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
69. Atonement - Ian McEwan
70. Dune - Frank Herbert
71. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
72. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
73. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
74. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
75. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
76. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
77. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
78. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
79. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
80. Bridget Jones’ Diary - Helen Fielding
81. Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
82. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
83. Dracula - Bram Stoker
84. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
85. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
86. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
87. Germinal - Emile Zola
88. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
89. Possession - A.S. Byatt
90. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
91. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell <---i can't overstate how much i loved this book and the author.
92. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
93. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
94. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
95. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
96. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
97. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
98. Watership Down – Richard Adams
99. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
100. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas <---remember in 'the shawshank redemption' where the dumb inmate looks at this book in the library and says, snorting, "alexander dumbass?"

i've never even heard of some of these books. faraway tree collection?
oh well. i'm certainly more well-read than most people, according to this highly scientific list.

also, some things i did not do today:
-go to the gym
-eat well
-leave the house
-do anything productive at all
-meditate
-write

grab bag.

* feeling sad for jennifer hudson

* feeling impressed with myself because my internet crush said my comment was the best one of the week. also deeply embarrassed to be so pleased with myself.

* found a hecka cute diaper bag. seems premature to buy it since we are not actively trying to make babies, but it was tempting. too early to buy it for zoe? diaper bags are too personal to buy for someone else. i have already begun imagining my possibly endless search for the Perfect Diaper Bag. i'm probably going to show up at my kid's wedding with it, having just finally found it.

* i would for reals like to live here. the website is full of information and links and stuff. i love it.

* i've been searching the internet for chord tableture for mom's autoharp. so far i haven't had much luck, though. since the autoharp has set chords, you can't use any chords other than what they offer you, so if the song you want to play has lots of minor chords in it you're pretty much screwed. so, no depeche mode. i've had the best luck with cat power songs. also some james brown and a saves the day song. should be an interesting repertoire.

* tried some new foods when i grocery shopped yesterday. here are my reviews:
- rice yogurt: completely disgusting. too sweet. too watery. really, really icky.
- cassava chips: super tasty. i got the bbq flavor but i'd like to try the sea salt ones.

* i've been fretting a little bit about the election and my concerns about how jacked up this election could get because of how big the turn out will be. i worked the primary and it was a nightmare, and that wasn't nearly as big a deal as this election is going to be. but mostly my fretting was idle, because working the last election sucked so bad, i didn't want to do it again. except a lady called me the other day to ask me to work a polling place that was down one person, so i said yes. again, the precinct captain has never been the captain before and isn't going to know what to do, which is exhausting. there is one other person who has worked the polls before, probably the guy named harvey, because it's mostly senior citizens who do it. it's nice to have some good old people ju-ju, but it was hard explaining the newer stuff to them last time...you know...like electricity. (i kid.) they give each polling place a palm pilot that we can use to find voter info, if we need to. the very cranky old lady i worked with last time was deeply suspicious of the palm pilot, resentful that they changed the system that she felt worked fine, and also dead set on us showing her how to use it, even though she wasn't ever going to get it and she totally didn't need to know because other people could have done that. is it patronizing to feel like it's not work her effort to master technology she will probably never use? possibly. so, i'm working the polls. at least i know now what i need to brush up on because the accounting at the end of the day is fucking HARD and our group messed it up a bunch because we didn't know what we were supposed to be doing. i'll go to the info session again this time to brush up and i'll stay the WHOLE time and then basically have to run the precinct, but that's fine. it'll be like a group project in college, where you just assume everyone else is lazy and stupid so you do it all yourself.

* a couple of weeks ago shannon vivisected my laptop. my optical drive was all messed up, so my man took lappy to work and removed the old one and put in a new one. he also stoked me with more storage (like, 10X more) and more RAM (like, so much more) AND gave me leopard! basically, my good old lappy came back a brand new computer! i have pretty much every application open that i can think of right now and you'd never know it because it's working FINE. awesome.

* bought some new lip gloss. the color combo i go was daredevil and sandpiper. the picture on the website really doesn't do it justice, though. the daredevil color is really a red-pink. very berry colored. and the gloss is a nice shiny nude, which takes the intensity of the red-pink down a bit. i'm lovin' it. also was given a free DELUXE sample of some other lip gloss that i am loving. i got a sample of this stuff a while ago and i liked the smell and taste and consistency, but it was clear with silver sparkles which isn't super useful. this new one is 'dolly' which is pretty much my lip color, but a smidgen more oomphy. i highly recommend this brand.

* been hitting the gym again. stoked on it. not gonna talk it up too much, just saying: i'm back, i'm happy, i'm sore from training.

more funny.

so, i have a little bit of an internet crush on this guy whose blog i used to read. his name is gabe delahaye and i feel like i'm gonna die of embarrassment even writing this because it's so dorky, but still, he's awesome and funny and i wish we were friends, even though he'd probably be mean to me. (he was on 'this american life' one week, with a story about finding out that all his friends think he's an asshole. so, you know. he's probably not that nice.) his personal blog is called corporatecasual.com and i already have the link to it here, to the right, but he's not writing much there right now because he writes for another blog (videogum.com) as his job now, which must tap out his funny juices or something.

anyway, long story long, him and this other really funny guy, max silvestri, who also has a funny blog, do these movies together on youtube and such and i wanted to post them.

this was the first one.



the second one.



the third one.



here's the new one, in partnership with details magazine.



the production value is a little high for me, but whatever.

i just want some people who i know to see these, so i can reference them and have people know what i'm talking about.

justin timberlake.

my passion for JT has cooled a smidgen.
not because his album is any less amazing, but i've just moved on.
but this clip kinda restoked me.



videogum said everyone has been saying he's been a douche on this press junket, but he's pretty much solid gold from what i can see.

not enough time.

hi!
it's been a while!
i've been thinking about you, but i've been pretty busy.
i don't even have time now to explain what i've been busy with, and if i did, you'd be underwhelmed, but i'm feeling pretty good and happy, so that's cool.
i have some exciting things brewing, also some scary things, and my life is feeling like an armload of stuff that i'm just barely carrying successfully, with the occasional dropped sock, and intermittent panicking over fumbling it all.
i'll update more this week, promise, but i had to add this link in, because it is one of the most impressive things i've seen in a while. especially geared towards those of you who enjoy both film AND shakespeare. (seth? austin? maybe lu? shaye? tab?) other people might not get the joke, but for those of you who do, it's gonna blow your mind.

J: Speak 'What' again! Thou cur, cry 'What' again!

this guy is a freakin' genius. there's another version later on, in the comments.
i had forgotten how full of magic metafilter is. wowzers.

downer/upper.

things i'm not stoked about:

this is fucking terrible, but not surprising.

things i am stoked about:
-carrots (so good!)
-broccoli (if i had to only eat one vegetable for the rest of my life, it'd be broccoli.)
-trace minerals (shannon is a big believer in these, but i don't really like the way they make the water taste. nonetheless, they're really good for you and they kick canker sores in the pants.)
-the gym (i know, old news, but i have fallen back in love with it.)
-writing (again, yawn, but i am deep in the midst of a passionate love affair with it. hopefully long-term.)
-flip-flops (i used to wear them everyday, and then i backed away from it, but i have been enjoying it being warm enough to wear them again.)
-peter hoeg's new book, 'the quiet girl.' ('smila's sense of snow' is one of my top 5 favorite books, so i was THRILLED when i saw that he had a new one. i'm listening to it on cd and LOVING it. so much so that i am looking forward to reading it the normal way already. there was a sense of restraint and distance in 'smila's' but this one is so much more passionate and funny and warm. i mean, he's danish, so there's still the scandanavian-ness, but not nearly so much.)
-joyce carol oates (am i boring you by talking about her books and her all the time? she's just so amazing. i'm reading 'my heart laid bare' and it's wonderful.)
-frigoverre (in me and shannon's on-going mission to eradicate plastic from our lives, this was a landmark discovery. i fret about plastic food storage and this stuff has a glass base. we've got tons of it and the thrill hasn't worn off yet.)
-making smoothies for breakfast (gina got me started and now i can't stop. i actually did stop for a couple of weeks, but only because we didn't have any food in the fridge. but i went grocery shopping yesterday and came back with organic blueberries and raspberries, some frozen peaches, more rice milk, spinach....i already had some of my favorite rice protein powder and some sprouted raw flax seeds. so, super tastiness this morning.)
-the liam finn album. remember i posted a video of his performance on david letterman and said i'd bought the album? well, it's good.

seriously, though, guys.
please use your hands-free headset with your phone, and even when you're kicking it hands-free, keep your phone somewhere aside from on your person. not to be all preachy, but brain tumors are sons of bitches, and i love you guys and i want you to live.

david suchet and shasta marie.

this is the actor, david suchet.
i'm having a little bit of a love affair with him right now.
why, you ask?
well.
you may or may not know that i listen to books on cd quite a bit, and by 'quite a bit' i mean instead of the radio or music, in my car. i am always listening to something when i am driving. i'm surprised mykhail didn't start speaking in an english accent, after listening to agatha christie for 3 days.
anyway, i am going through an agatha christie phase, and this is all because of the wonderful
david suchet.
he is most famous for playing hercules poirot in the agatha christie movies on the bbc and he reads the books on cd. not only is he adorable and charmant (as the french and, like monsieur poirot, the belgians, say) as poirot, but he does the voices for everyone else in the books, creating AMAZING voices. i seriously can't stress enough how impressive his vocal range is. he can play poirot, who is a pompous little belgian man with a french accent, a blowsy middle aged american woman, a well-bred young irish man, and a blustery old british general, each distinct, each entirely consistent. and then he has his normal voice for the narration. AMAZING, you guys.
so, i'm on my third book on cd by him.
here's a clip of him talking about the making of a video game version of 'murder on the orient express.' it's not amazing, but he does the poirot voice and you'll see how different it is from his own voice.

tonight, i popped in a movie that i had rented from netflix and HE WAS IN IT!! yeah! i know!
it was 'the falcon and the snowman' which was dated and featured a very young sean penn and his huge nose. seriously, it looked like he had a fake nose on or something. was it always so big? did he get a nosejob?
anyway, david suchet plays a russion diplomat and he is fantastic. so suave and self-assured.
then, from doing research on him, i find he's won tons of awards and was nominated for his performances in 'who's afraid of virginia woolfe?' and 'amadeus.' oh, and he was at the royal shakespeare for, like, 100 yrs and played caliban and iago and tybalt.
also, he's 5'6", which is so poirot.
anyway, it's exciting. he's great, and he actually works quite a bit. good for him. he deserves it.
***********************************************************************************

on a totally different note, i haven't talked much about putting shasta marie to sleep yet. i think i am avoiding it, since it's hard being here at the house without her. she deserves a tribute, but i'm not ready yet.

writing is torture.

last week's writing class was absolutely the best so far.

i've had some lingering doubts about how well i was fitting into the class, from a writing stand point. everyone else has a really sparse style, while mine is a 'more is more' kinda attitude. (which can also be used to describe my attitude towards jewelry, too, i think. just pile it all on there and go.)

we read chunks of our writing every week, what we've been working on that week, and afterwards we get comments.

everyone is very careful about each other's feelings and we use a the old compliment sandwich method of feedback (not purposely, but it just seems to work out this way) where there's a compliment, a minor criticism, and then another compliment.

i've felt like my compliments so far have been half-hearted, like the other people in the class, including my teacher, were struggling to find positive things to say. they were the kind of watered down that you give to a friend after you've just watched them in a terrible play, where you really reach to find something to say that is positive, despite having just watched/read/heard something almost without redeeming quality. (not that that's ever, happened to me, pals! you're all flawless, always, without exception!) like, 'wow! you sure wrote some stuff there! that was a lot of words you used!'

and then the criticism didn't feel like stuff i could grab on to, which was just as disappointing, because i am all about improvement on all levels. i am so hungry for things to work on, to apply myself to, ways to improve, in pretty much every area of my life.

so, last week, i got a lot of REAL praise for my week's writing, from both my classmates and my teacher. and i got feedback that was immediately helpful and totally on point. everyone's writing was really, really good, noticeably improved from weeks before, and it just felt like everyone's juices were flowing, so to speak.

i left totally excited, like, 'THAT is what i'm talking about!'

it was a nice little encouragement, like a little message from the Muses, telling me to keep writing. not that i would have quit writing, but i am not cut out for slogging away in the face of insane obstacles. i need an occasional ray of light, to mix metaphors.

then this week was torture again.

i have written more in the last few days than in years and i'd say 3 pages of the 15 are usable and the rest are the writing equivalent of what scales are for singers. just warming up. i just couldn't dig in. i tried the same section multiple times, stopping at the end of one sentence and starting all over again. it was so frustrating, to be working so hard and have nothing that i'd like to show for it, but then, at the same time, in a weird way, it was a little bit awesome. having to really brace my feet, bend my knees, drop my shoulder and fucking PUSH. i didn't give up, i didn't despair, because i realized it was just a bump in my writing road, and i just kept writing.

it was exciting.

i have to many things rattling around in my head. i started a new fiction story the other day, based on a sentence that popped into my head fully formed (like athena, kinda.) it's like...the handmaid's tale meets the golden compass. or something. i have no idea, really, what it is, but i only want to write that, and writing my memoir is feeling more challenging.

actually, i need to amend what i wrote above.

my writing of this new story was ease itself. it was fun, exciting and i could have worked on it for hours longer than the 3 i did. it was the dang memoir that was so hard. and i kinda wanted to chuck the memoir and just work on this new project, but i totally resisted that urge and forced myself to go some good work on the memoir. it might not be the best work, but it is stuff i won't be ashamed to share on thursday night, though i am not anticipating last week's accolades.

maybe, since i was so good about my memoir writing, i'll let myself work a little bit on the other one. just a little. not tons. like dessert.

i've been doing the majority of my writing in pen. this my axe,' as the guitarists say. mine is tha silky black one, with the gold fountain tip. it's so amazing. i am going through ink cartridges like nothing, which is making me feel like a polluting asshole, but i guess that's a bit better than using a disposable pen where i throw the WHOLE thing away. or something. i use a hard cover lined notebook, with paper that's thick enough to avoid bleed through from my wettish pen, but not super thick. i'm getting writing cramps, where my hand feels permanently frozen into a writing claw. it's cool. it's like i'm a dancer and i'm finally getting mangled-looking feet! i'm earning my wings, people! i've been enjoying the act of writing the memoir, LOVING my fancy pen and just generally down with my process.

but for this other story that i'm hatching i used my laptop, to compare the experiences.

so far i'm not seeing a dramatic difference, but i'm interested to see if anything pops up.

this last week i felt like i was coming out of my funk a bit. i called a bunch of people, while i had the energy. i worked out more. i just took advantage of the up-swing in my energy.

then the clouds came back and i realized how much the sunny spell had to do with my positive outlook. now i'm feeling a bit droopy again, but i'm also PMSing, so maybe it's nothing major. i mean, probably it's nothing major, because i'll be fine, but i am hoping that i have a little break from feeling filled to the brim with despair. it's been nice to feel so fit, emotionally.

i've begun seriously talking and thinking about selling Yumi. i haven't talked to allen about it yet. ideally, i'd never have to tell him, but i haven't come up with a scenario where that'll work since be lives there and he's obviously going to have some feelings about it. to say i am dreading it would be the making of a true, if under-, statement. is there something more extreme than dread? sinking dread? creeping dread? anticipating with abhorrence? i talked to our realtor about it, and got some info from her to help me, the names of some people in mendo who might be able to help me. i know the market is crap and whatnot, but seriously. i need to dump that thing. it's killing me, and not a little bit. actually, allen is killing me. the house is fine. he is not. the worry about him and the stupid sense of responsibility i feel for him, like he's an invalid who needs caring for or something, is fucking KILLING me.

what the hell kind of grown man is comfortable having a women more than 30 years younger than him supporting him? doesn't that make him feel bad about himself? it makes ME feel bad about HIM, for sure.

whatever. love and light, allen. get out of my house and go away.

more about writing.

alan, my teacher, said something that stuck with me a couple of classes ago. or maybe last class. i can't remember.

anyway, he warned us that writing would start taking over our lives, that everything else would fade back and a lot of things would seem less and less important in the face of our writing. that prophecy was both terrifying and exciting. i felt a thrill of anticipation for that sensation of absorption, that level of commitment and focus. i mean, i already have problems with letting crap slide, so that was scary to hear, but i appreciated the sentiment.

and these last few days i've felt it, just a bit. that feeling that all i want to do is write. i skipped the gym two days in a row, which for me is basically unheard of these days, because i was just so into my writing. i'm not really down with suddenly becoming a slug-butt again, but it is exciting to feel so moved.

he also read us some passages from hemingway's book on writing, titled, mysteriously, 'on writing.' hemingway suggested writing until you knew what was going to happen next. he thought we shouldn't write until we were feeling blank. he referred to our creativity like a well and said we should draw deeply from it, but always make sure to leave some, then to give it time to refill itself. so, when you're done for the day, stop and go do things that get you out of your head and away from writing.

i'm having trouble with the 'getting away from writing' thing at this point.

new year, new (old) me.

2007 was a year where i relearned who i am.
obviously the stuff with mom opened the door to skill sets that had thus far remained dormant, but i'm talking about more secondary stuff than that.
i learned that i really, really, really like working out.
i've been doing personal training, twice a week for a couple of months. i've been averaging cardio 3 times a week. and the simple act of working out has become the most important part of it, not the results. i've always gotten frustrated at how long it takes to see results from working out, and have never really developed that fire for it. i don't know if the one causes the other, but they've certainly both been true in the past.
this year, since mom died, i suddenly get why everyone likes working out so much.
it's because it's fucking awesome.
i've never been sporty and have never really had a strong relationship with my body, in the sense that athletic people do, where it's your mind and your body kicking ass together. but i get it now.
i'll get so stoked during my cardio that i'll start laughing.
i'll grunt and groan like a real weight lifter.
i look forward to my training sessions with mingled dread and excitement, every time, because i know that he's going to make me do things that are unbelievably uncomfortable, but that i'm going to be able to do them, even when it seems like i can't.
i hit a wall during my training today, and i came really close to asking my trainer to cut stuff short. the second set of exercises he had me doing were crazy hard, and i was feeling tired and weak. but i didn't ask, and he didn't offer (because he's awesome) and i pushed through that resistance into that thing we call The Second Wind. i ended the session feeling stronger and more focused, happier, lighter...just all around better.
you guys, i can't overstate what a huge transformation this is for me.

another thing i learned about myself this year is that i am way less willing to sacrifice my physical comfort for style now. i have been wearing a pair of my mom's dansko clogs a couple of days a week, and while i still don't think they're necessarily cute, i find them tolerable, which is not something i would have ever imagined myself saying. also, they're so comfortable, it doesn't even matter that much. i went to shoe pavillion the other day and i bought a new pair of fake uggs for new york and a pair of birkenstock slip ons, like the pair i have already, but in bright yellow patent leather. so cute. but i would not have guessed that THOSE would be the shoes i would leave with. not heels. not fancy flats. comfy shoes. also, i bought a polar fleece zip up at REI because new york is going to be crazy cold and i need to be prepared. these things are also huge transformations. i have always been so judgmental about clothing and really focused on what looks cool, and while i still think about that stuff, and try to mix in the comfy stuff in a way that doesn't make me look like a jammie monster, i am more comfortable with being a jammie monster.

i learned that i'm not afraid to try new things, the way i once was. i was almost paralyzed by fear of trying new things, specifically skills, but this year that just kinda disappeared. suddenly i'm cooking and teaching myself the autoharp, working out, slogging through french language magazines. i just don't care whether or not i'm the best anymore. i just want to try it out.

i realized i'm an artist. i'm a writer. while my dad and mom would roll their eyes and say 'duh' about this, it's a huge revelation for me, and fundamentally changes the way i look at myself. suddenly i'm part of this community of people who struggle with their creative demons, battle a sense that they're fooling themselves to even try this, self-analyze, but ultimately breakthrough their own mental resistance to create things that are Theirs. that's me. that's what i do. after years of paddling around in the baby pool of academia, i am suddenly edging myself into a deep end that scares the pee out of me. but is also exciting.

i'm not going to say that the good stuff makes the bad stuff worth it, because that's a bunch of crap. the good stuff makes the bad stuff tolerable. nothing makes it worth it. but i am thankful for the things that happened this year that acted as sugar in my spoonful of harsh, sad medicine. many of you were part of that, sugar cubes that sweetened my life, and i am grateful for you, too. i meet 2008 not with defiance, because i learned this year how hard times can get, but with steady acceptance. whatever happens, i'll be okay.

yumi.

yumi is the name of mom's house/farmlette.
i went to yumi today, to work on mom's stuff.
with linda's help, i was able to complete mom's closet, with was amazing and wonderful. christmas magic does happen!
allen asked if he could take down mom's jewelery board, which hangs in the bathroom, and has all mom's everyday jewelery on it.
he said that he didn't really need to be seeing it every day whenever he goes into the bathroom, which i can understand.
and then he said something about how if he had a lady over... he didn't really finish the sentence, just let it trail off.
me and linda both got creeped out by it but i let it go.
it was just an inappropriate thing to say, but what's new, right?
i brought down a bunch more stuff to keep, but less than last time.
closed out her safety deposit box. brought down her fireproof safety box. all her jewelery. a few pairs of shoes.
among the shoes, i found two pairs of clogs.
not wooden clogs, the rubber nursey kind.
i felt like the green ones, which are forest green and pretty worn and are the backless kind, will be cute and helpful for working in the yard.
and i am currently wearing the black ones, the kind with the backs on them, and since my dogs are barking from wearing the nike tennies i bought at ross that i thought were going to be awesome but are actually not comfortable AT ALL, i think i am going to go grocery shopping in them.
'them' being the clogs.
is this how it starts?
i've already mostly stopped wearing heels because they're uncomfortable.
what's next?
elastic waist pants, because they're comfy?
polar fleece, because it's cozy?
have i begun the slippery slope into function-based dressing in earnest?