the same but different…

18Nov09

so yeah… i am the same but different.

growing up to become older in age and sometimes mind and body.

staying young in spirit and in size.

not but a week ago i was trying to grow up professionally, in a direction that i am still interested in growing in. however, the easy opportunity door, closed and it barely effected me… barely. i really wanted it, but i also really want my life to be mine… so when the door shut, i knew that nothing would stop me from what i wanted in the long run… the path would just be different. – so now i feel all weird and grown up in that aspect.

today i realized this… i get unsatisfied with my job when my personal life is suffocated and is in need of resuscitation… so i called… FUCK IT. i love what i do… and when i stop to think about what it is i do, i really get a little surprised by the ease, the growth and the possibilities for a successful personal life that my job allows me to have. – so another grown up life lesson…

my friend/business partner just informed me that our online literary magazine is moving towards success with writers and critics alike. and it is fast becoming a sought after publication… – dang. that makes me feel really honored and all achieved and stuff.

i am coming up on my 4 year wedding anniversary, and yet i can’t imagine that it has been that long… or a life without the man who makes me smile and cry. – grown up shit.

most of my petty fears have dissipated, and now i am just left with the real fears to conquer… and yet i am not afraid of what may come of that accomplishment. dang.

i drink wine. like on the real. and i like it.

i am being all smart about what i eat and when.

i actually want to be more resourceful and independent from frivolous technology.

and still…

i was at payless, because i just don’t pay more… and i am shopping in the size 4 section (as i always do). i find a cute cute pair of silver shoes, and as i reach for them… i notice they are hannah montana shoes and i cringe deep and full of conviction. hell to the fuck to the nah…

i went to target today and bought some 100% cotton thermal shirts from the little gal section XL of course… but $8.00. verses $10 for a ladies cotton blend… hell to the fuck to the nah…

people still think i am 12. which i kinda still am.

i still cry when i hear the song fish & bird by tom waits.

i like to hold hands.

i think blowing kisses is romantic and a great way to show PDA.

and when i see my friend’s tiny profile pic on her face book account i think it is a penis in her face…. but it is really her dog trying to lick her (no pun intended)… you can tell when you actually click on her profile and the picture is bigger, but still…

i still laugh at the words: poop, tea bags and golden rod.

 some things are worth changing… others aren’t.

 

MWAH!

Filed under: awkward, bad acting, boner, celebrations, dang, feelings, fuck it, life changing, love, post-modernity, wowzers   |  1 Comment
Tags: awesome, changing, dang, life, me

ready to die…

25Oct09

when i was seventeen i picked up my first hitchhiker.

i was on my way home from my boyfriend’s house. it was late. and i was eerily content.

 i was driving with my windows down and one of my favorite songs (back then) on repeat. my ford tempo had only two motor mounts and a cursed radiator, but my dad made up for it by putting a cd player in it. i was almost home when i saw a frantic woman rush into the middle of the street waving her hands in the air (like she did care).

She pleaded, “HELP! PLEASE”

i stopped. Looked at her and thought to myself, if tonight is the night i am going to die then so be it.

“PLEASE! My son’s inhaler is at my friend’s house. He may have an asthma attack any minute! i have got to go get it, but my car won’t start!”

“Is it far?”

“no. not at all. i promise.”

While she got into the passenger seat, i noticed her hands shaking, the sweat on her forehead, and her inability to shut up.

“Okay. You know where tidwell is? With all of the apartments?”

growing up i had a friend who lived over there, “Yep.”

“well my friend lives in those apartments.”

As soon as I started to drive, she thanked me. however, it seemed as though her concern for her son disappeared.

“You in highschool?”

“yep.”

“Oh that must be fun!”

“not really.”

“Oh.”

i tried to stay as quiet as possible, and i knew that she was nervous, but not the “i am going to kill this person and rob her” nervous. she kept thanking me over and over. and she kept forgetting her son over and over.

when we reached the gate to the apartment complex, she couldn’t remember the code to get in, nor could she remember her friend’s apartment number. she got out and slipped between some bars that had been pried open for such an occasion as this one.

i watched her move so quick, so hungry.

the thought of leaving her there never crossed my mind. i just sat with the feeling of content. the feeling of satisfaction for my life.  i waited for her return and i listened to the cars go by, to the life that had no idea what i was doing there or what i was feeling. she must have been gone for fifteen minutes or so. i kept thinking, feeling, noticing. i saw her. she walked slower this time. calm. collected.

when she entered the car she wasn’t sweating, she had no inhaler in her hands or in her dress. she seemed as though she had seen some sort of clarity for life in that apartment.

“You know, you seem like such a  nice young girl with a great head on your shoulders. You should enjoy your time in high school. you should because life doesn’t get any better than that.”

i just drove. i was never one to respond to that comment. why in the hell would i live past high school if i believed in that nonsense. what she meant was, she should have enjoyed her time in high school, that her life would never get any better.

“you know when i was in your age. i was a singer. i was in choir. i loved to sing.”

“i am actually in choir.”

“oh really. i can tell just by looking at you that you are a really good singer. you should keep going with that. follow your dreams, you know?”

i didn’t want to tell her that my dreams did not consist of singing, i did not want to tell her that my dreams consisted of this feeling of content that i had. i did not want her to feel as though she did not understand it, or worse was not capable of it.

“follow your dreams, kid.”

when we got back to her house. she looked at me. she was worn, tired, physically and emotionally depressed. she looked at me with such shame in her eyes, such regret and i knew that she had just come full circle and she would keep spinning, keep loosing hope. she teared up and said thank you one last time before getting out of my car.

i watched her enter her house. listened to the life outside of my self, this experience and i knew that i would never experience her presence again.

when i reached my house, i got out of the car and looked up at the night sky. i took a moment to remember the lack of color in the trees, the de-saturated green in the leaves. the concrete seemed as though it belonged in the dark, the color did not seem to change with the night, but instead it looked as if it were naturally created by the moon light. i went inside, felt my way through my house, reached my bedroom door and got undressed in the dark. i laid down in my bed. in that moment, i was content; i was ready for anything to begin or end, which ever life saw fit for me.

Filed under: dang, feelings, hope, life changing, non-fiction, wowzers   |  Leave a Comment
Tags: dang, hitchhikers, life, past

designing and listening to bukowski…

09Oct09

usually when i design i listen to music and just go at it. problem is i second guess a lot of what i am doing. i go back and forth with layouts… and typefaces… shit, i can’t begin without my typeface picked out. so it usually takes me a week to pick the typeface, another week to pick the layout…. and a week to choose color… and then i second guess all of it.

tonight, i was designing for a friend… resume. and while yes the layout of a resume is pretty cut and dry… the font choice isn’t and the color isn’t as well. the good thing about doing things for friends is that i understand who it is they are, i can get the feeling of what the typeface should convey, what the colors should symbolize… so it isn’t as crazy…

but i still second guess myself.

tonight, i chose to listen to bukowski read selected work. charles bukowski uncensored. it is a major rough edit version of him reading. you hear him speak about his work and the people who like him and the future audience that will finally make him a “name” in literature after his death. it was recorded during the time he was writing pulp, and in it he mentions the book in progress, and that it is written to be bad, to be nasty, to be completely off from everything he has ever written. and it is. while listening to him, he just seemed so ready and in tune with the fact that he was old and he was close to death.

and his honest opinion about himself, life and his method for writing… it just helped me focus on my intent for this particular design project.

after it was done, i still had some designing to do and a cake to bake. so, i found some chris rock on my itunes and the result was the same. this blatant honesty, just kept me going. not second guessing my methods, my capability with art.

however, when i tried to write this blog… it was not helping. so i went back to tom waits. and started typing away.

Filed under: art, boo!, dang, design, experiments, hope, life changing, post-modernity   |  Leave a Comment
Tags: bukowski, dang, methods, trying new things