full of moxie and viscosity

I spent today alone, as planned. It was more magnificent than I could ever express. Here are two pictures, rather large, to explain the magnificence. One is of a tower near the Tower of London and the other is of me on the subway with my headphones on.

tower


subway

Weirdness here in this early morning London flat. I spent time talking to an unexpected caller. Too much time. I sat outside the door like so many early mornings on 2658 Menlo, clutching a quilted blanket and shivering against my indecisiveness. My legs are numb now. I woke up from my half-heavy sleep with dreams of shooting two people. I couldn't go back to sleep so I just sat awake, drenched in sweat, waiting for rest that never came. I am not feeling okay this morning. I want to buy a new camera. In the grey, grey morning light of London I feel differently about the robbery than I did in the colored excitement of the club. My tight muscles and knitted forehead are reminding me that I am no longer as young as I used to be. Today, I am going to take a long shower, wash my hair twice, get bundled up and change the way I feel. I'll buy a calling card, call my mother and father again, find an internet cafe to blog and write and email, read Tom Robbins, write postcards to Dylan and Vicki and Lizzy Carley, BUY A NEW CAMERA?... maybe... How can I spend the rest of this vacation without one? I want to wander the streets of Europe with a camera in hand, a rest from my poet's curse... a stab at a new expression, well, an old expression with a new house. I just want a new camera. Am I being silly? Maybe, most likely, but when have I ever, ever denied my urges? I can't remember a time. Should I be more mature at this point? Probably. I should be sleeping, I should be better with money, I should write more, I should apply to more schools, I should I should I should. For now, I'll do what I can.

A few lessons learned today. First and most importantly, we are all older than we used to be. Secondly, there are thieves around!! I got my camera stolen at a club tonight. My digital! My pride and joy! Ack! Horrid. However, there are worse things that could have happened. We are all safe and happy and I have my passport and money and cards... but one hundred pictures gone. Oh my. Should I purchase a new camera or get a disposable or rely on my friends for other pictures? I don't know and I can't decide. I found a British boy to kiss at the club... Ben... it was nice. He was lovely and nice and helped me look for my camera. Minus a couple gay guys, he was the cutest one at the club. But is cute even relevant? No. He was interesting and wordly. Why am I still talking about him? Anyway, tomorrow I will decide about the camera and decide about my attitude and decide about other things because I'm spending tomorrow alone, in London, wandering the streets, making myself remember why I'm independent and artsy.

I miss everyone. A lot. Especially Emily.

I am sitting in a smart London flat with five of my favorite people in the entire universe. I've taken a nap, had some food, washed my face and peed. Once I change my clothes we'll be on our way to a fun London pub for expensive drinks and some more food (hopefully?). This is really happening. I woke up from my nap with a horrible, horrible Charlie Horse. Wondering why I spend time in California with people who treat me like I'm an idiot, or not a very nice person, or silly, or young. Though I am all of those things, I would prefer to not be reminded of them, but rather reminded of my ability to move from them. I haven't been doing that. Also, London is so different... so new and fresh, witty, lit, smoky.... I'm into it. This is some place I could hang my hat, were I to have one.

Today marks the beginning of my two week trip to London, Barcelona and Paris. Expect a lot of blogging while I'm there. I promise to write every time I get the chance. Today my father and I are driving to LA to meet up with Melanie Nyema. Then I'm off to the airport to meet with Shannon and Angela... the four of us fly out at 7:05 pm. I am nervous. Yes, yes I am. But this is the chance of a lifetime... we'll meet up with Tiffany, Mona and Alissa in London tomorrow and then Barcelona for New Years... Paris on the way back to London... wow... here I go...

I quit Starbucks today. Did they honestly think that I was going to choose a minimum wage (okay, I'm exaggerating, I get paid more than minimum wage, but you know what I mean) over a trip to London, Barcelona and Paris? Yeah right! So I turned in my letter of resignation, I'll turn my keys in on my way to get my hair did, and I am breathing easy. They told me "work your scheduled shifts or quit," so I quit. Was there another option? They assured me that I will still be able to be rehired, should I feel the need. Somehow, I think that when I get back from my trip I'm not going to be in the mood for it. I'm good at it, I am, but honestly, why would I put myself through all of that drama for a lot of awkward hours and not enough pay? I will just complete my substitute teaching credential application stuff and sub as much as I can. I'll talk to Sylvan about re-adjusting my hours and see if they can work with me. I'm sure that they can.

THE WEIGHT HAS BEEN LIFTED. Bring me a wrecking ball, I'm about to attack the writer's block. Maybe Starbucks was the problem all along.

Today is a momentous occasion, as I will be both completing my Christmas shopping and I have already cleaned out my car. It was both cathartic and disgusting. Little fragments of missives from very particular people are clogging up my ears today, but I can enjoy it for once. Everything doesn't have to be so damned heavy.

Most importantly, Evan and Ian (The Children, The Babies!) are coming to see me (Jillian and Raymond, too) today at 6 o'clock. Maybe 7. I don't know what to say about it other than it will be the best thing to have happened to me in months.

For now, I am off to do some errands and I will be back later today. Guaranteed I will have something to write about very soon.

So, it turns out that Lauren Santiago is the cure for everything.

For some reason I'm unable to see the words I type right now. My computerter is messing up so I'm just going on my feel and prediction about my own typing ability. This should be interesting at the very least. I just got back from shopping with Josh and it was interesting and a little productive but I realized that I should be way more in control of my mood than I am. Can't I just snap out of it? Can't I just snap out of it? CAN'T I JUST SNAP OUT OF IT? I don't know.

Emily brought up a good point tonight. I've lost my ability to talk to retards and children. Also, my tolerance for everyone in the world is dwindling quickly and I do believe it's in direct proportion to my tolerance for myself. Now, is this because I haven't been writing that much? Or because I can see myself literally fading into nothingness here in Fresno, California? Ah, perhaps we should get to the root of this problem:

I am not okay when I am by myself.

I was, when I was in Vancouver, somehow that was okay. I was okay by myself. I liked it, I wanted more of it, I wanted the solitude and the breathy drives and the words and the air conditioning. That's what I longed for. It emptied me out, cleared out all of the rubbage and pressure. But now, there's nothing to fill it back up with, god damnit, there's nothing left. All of my spring cleaning left me with nothing. Good thing the rotten shit is off the shelves, but seriously, I have no money to grocery shop again and ain't no one cooking for me. The hunger will indubitably consume me.

Researching programs tonight for my educational future. On the platter are:

Education
USC (already applied)
UC Berkeley (missed application deadlines but keeping it in mind)
Portland State (typos on the website but I miss Portland)

English (yet to research)
USC
UC Irvine
NYU
UC Berkeley

Those really are the only schools I actually want to go to. Everything else seems so... drab.

Also on tap for tonight: ceremonious clipping of the fingernails. This picking thing is getting old. Anyone else sick of it? My poor breasts.

I'm reeling over words I stumbled upon. I guess I should be glad that I made my decision before I found out his heart was taken. No wonder he thought this was hollow. I should listen more closely to what people tell me about themselves. We as a race know ourselves pretty well.

Going to Starbucks 1999 style tonight, wishing I knew what I was going to do next year. Wishing I was different.

OKAY HERE I GO! I'M SENDING OUT THE APPLICATION TOMORROW. AAAAAACK.

How upset should I be that someone read my novel without asking me?

All of this effort put forth. All of these tears cried, words written, curses uttered, decisions made- all of it for naught? I apologize for everything. For my huge, swollen heart. For my idealistic dew-eyed view of everything. For making it ten times more difficult than it had to be. To all of you, the men, my deepest apologies. I was a little girl. I wanted to feel you beside me, or across the country from me, whispering, singing, playing your horn, speaking your wisdom, holding me dear. I wanted you to be within me, to fill the void. But my void was simply youth.

And all this time I’ve been looking for the end, for some rest. The end of my entanglement with him, the end of his effect on me. But in reality, there was no entanglement other than my own consciousness. There was no effect. (I once wrote, the longlasting effects of a broken heart are stretching over my window, shadowing my day, but I was wrong.)

Virginia Woolf: Orlando. You are a challenge, for
outer events, the outside world, the time etc.
play no importance to you. Your focus is in
writing, in gender issues, and inside your own
head. Self-analysis and exploration of yourself
as well as the outer world hold great
importance to you.


Which literature classic are you?
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working on my personal statement:


My experiences with teaching span several different kinds of educational settings. In addition to teaching an adult computer class, working at an Indian Education Center, assisting several teachers and professors, tutoring both professionally and informally, and volunteering in numerous elementary school classrooms, I have had the honor to grow up with innumerable teaching opportunities in my family. I have thirty-five first cousins. My family has the unique ability to perpetually create children, as the youngest of my mother’s generation is only two years older than the oldest child in my generation.

Ever since I can remember, there have been children younger than me in my environment. I have always been cognizant of the opportunities to gain respect and trust from those children. It was not until very recently that I was aware of the opportunities to educate them. When I say, “educate them,” I am not speaking of academic education. I have always been aware of my ability to assist my cousins and family in the way of academic tutelage.



ah, but I must let it rest for now... time for work... and DC sleeps alone tonight.

I went to San Francisco this weekend (technically Marin County) and played with some middle school kids. It was super fun and we had a good time, released some pent up energy and ate a lot of burritos, watched a lot of movies. Went on the bridges on the way home.

I don't have very much work this week but I have to complete my application to USC. I'm also going to look up UC Berkeley and Portland State. Maybe WSU? I don't know. I'm going to look into these things, though, because it's about time I got my act together. I hope that some of the hopeful items in my brain go away soon because they are not rational or proportional to my ability to complete tasks, especially of the emotional variety.

I straightened my hair yesterday and it genuinely makes me feel like a different person. I feel ... sexier, older, less intelligent, more objectified. It's not a bad feeling, though, it's just different, and I hope I can see Crockford tonight. I think he has something to say to me.

Damien Rice on the stereo this day, lime verbena in my console and a whale sweater. I can't get enough of the whale sweater or the new pair of dimples. I'm cheesy and overemotional and I love it. Tomorrow I'll get told I have cavities and I'll go to tutor and I'll go to Richard's house and I'll see the crew and I'll go home and sleep and I'll start the next day over with clean aprons and dirty shoes. I want to write better and think of things more concretely and less abstractly and talk more to people who like the bridges (or to people who allow the bridges to drive them crazy).

Let's cut all of the excess from our days.

Tonight I gotta just rant a little bit about my logistics... stuff I have going on that makes things more confusing and crazier.

My personal statement for USC... the app is due the 15th and I have to get a really ridiculously good personal statement going for it. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that it's going to be too expensive for me to go, but I'm applying anyway.

Money, money, money. I'm working my ass off, really, I am, working almost 40 a week at Starbucks and close to 20 a week at Sylvan (the tutoring center). It's still not going to cut the cake though, when it comes right down to it. Looks like everyone's getting mix cd's and homemade cards for Christmas.

Time! When will I relax, finish the short stories compiliation by Tobias Wolff that I just started? When will I find time to hang out with Josh and Richard and Jason and Sara and Larry (LARRY! I still haven't called LARRY!) and even to just CALL Lizzy and Mel and Lauren and Erica... there are so many people and I am fully neglecting them. Ah well, they know I love them.

When will I find time to write on the novel? It's waiting for me, now, with its little revving engine. I found time to renovate my website. Why won't I find time to renovate the novel?

There are websites to design and CD covers to make and things to write and earn and play and eat and for now, all I have time for is sleep. I wanted to talk to lots of people on the phone tonight but I only got a little satisfaction. It was nice, though. I love my new sweater with the little whale on it.

I'm not sure which is more exhilirating.
Redesigning the website (there are a few glitches still, but give me a day, I'll have them worked out) or thinking about writing about someone on this blog who would read it and freak out that they were on it. That's so refreshing in a really cruel way. I'm excited about new people and I want to write about them but I fear their impression of me, or their misinterpretation of what I write. So for now, we'll focus on the new website and worry about boys later.

In the relentless pressure of the working weeks (and I say "in" instead of "under" because I am INSIDE this pressure cooker, not under the foot), there is a feeling of urgency from the masses who pass me, an unsalvagable personification of our incomes, and the lethargic, heavy massage of a sleeping understanding. In between all of these false idols there is, perhaps, a quiet recompense given to me for keeping my head out of my ass.

I took the GRE today, and did as well on it as I did on my SAT's when I was 18. Does this denote a stability in my standardized intellect?

Tonight I will cut down my fingernails once again and wash my face. I'll read a little bit and think about M, most likely, wonder how he is, and then I'll be with me for a while and sleep.