Journaling

I don’t like watchng my life whooosh by without doing any blogging about it, or any journal-ing whatsoever. It was easier when I just had a lined notebook to journal in.
Writing isn’t as easy when you’re happy. Art, and I consider writing to be an art, isn’t as easy to produce when you’re not brooding, but it’s definitely harder to write. I don’t feel any urge to dissect why I’m happy, or ponder the universe for meaning. Also I’m not in my angst-filled 20’s that compelled me to write for hours.
But these years will fly by so fast.
So here’s what I’ve been up to, in general:
I’ve been working as a photo retoucher for 7 years now, both full-time and freelance.
I’ve recently started volunteering for Golden Retriever Rescue, well-organized volunteer network that takes in Goldens from both shelters and owner turn-ins. In the years of not having dogs, I’ve forgotten how much I love Goldens and their cuddly personalities. I forgot how I fell in love with the breed when I was ten, and studied the Golden Retriever section of the AKC dog book, and memorized all their standards and what breeds were used to develop the breed of Goldens. It’s all coming back to me when I walk them, and in different dogs you can see their background of Bloodhounds, Labradors, Irish Setters, Chesapeak Bay Retrievers, etc. I am obsessed with tracing the lineage of things, whether it’s language, race, or in this case, breeds. In conversation, it wavers heavily between awkward and boring.
I started teaching myself to bake pastries and artesan bread. Not a good idea in terms of calories, but it’s a great time to be my friend! And yeah, I photograph everything. Except for the pie I made the other day, which Tim and I tore into with such gusto that I only remembered to photograph it after it was cut into. Trust me when I say that this pie crust is to die for.
Truthfully, though, I’ve become so bad of a blogger that I went to Hawaii last month and didn’t post ANY picture on my blog. I took a ton of photos, too!
It also saddens me to let unblogged things go by like the Roger Water’s “The Wall” concert we went to, where I paid attention to Pink Floyd’s music for the first time in my life and realized that they are musical geniuses. This is something everyone else my age and older already knows, but its been playing in the background of my life for so many decades not that it was more of a jingle than anything else, and the nature of being exposed to good music in that way is that you never, ever get to hear it for your first time. That night at Staples Center in downtown LA I heard Roger Waters sing for the first time, and I cried through most of the concert, at the beauty of it. Granted, it was a hormonal day anyway. I also choked back tears when I was standing in line to buy tickets and Rosanna Arquette walked by. No reason for that, other than she’s so pretty in real life.
I don’t think I’ve blogged about any of the Zircon-Wish Circuses, which I deeply love going to and watching them perform their silk areal stunts which and then dancing all night. They keep outdoing themselves with their creativity and physical abilities.
We also got 2 new members of our family when my mom and dad adopted 2 Golden retrievers, Molly and Teddy. These guys are so fun to watch. They are often synchronized, like twins. I could go on about them for hours. Instead, I’ll just share a few pics:








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Spirits

I love L.A. Not enough that I’d write a song about it, but still, I love it here. The weekend was hot, but the skies were lovely and full of wispy little non-clouds. It was overly hot at my house, but at my boyfriend’s house, we sat out by the pool and it’s surrounded by tall trees, so the breeze coming through the buildings and the trees is nice and cool. We will probably be in the pool a lot this summer. It’s almost tempting to order takeout and just stay there, full time.
I’ve been spending about half of my weekends in Playa with Tim, or sometimes more. I always tended to flake on my journalling when I was in a relationship, so it comes naturally that I would do that with my blog. Plus I really don’t want to blog about my relationship AS it’s starting. But we’ve been dating for several months now, and so I guess I can yip yap about it. He’s crazy fun, and so are his friends. On any given weekend you can watch them go down the list of the seven deadly sins and tick several of them off, one by one. I pointed that out and they said they hadn’t noticed. I kept up with the drinking for several weekends but was coming home so tired by Sunday afternoon that I finally decided I can’t keep up.  Yesterday I was at a party with Tim and his friends and I decided to focus my energy on photographing the event instead of focusing my energy on my beverage, and I promptly lost my glass of wine as quickly as I lose my cup of coffee in the morning via forgetting where I put it.

Anyway, that’s all that’s going on with me.  I’ve also turned into a big flake about returning e-mails.  I have never done that in the entire time since e-mail was invented, and suddenly I’m terrible about getting back to people.  I don’t know what prompted that, other than the list of e-mails I needed to get back to got too long, and I don’t spend any long chunks of time in front of the computer lately.  I’m sure I’ll get back to normal at some point.  I am sure enjoying my apartment, and I’m spending a lot of time at home to despite all of the activity.

I’m going to go to sleep now.  You should check out the “It Puts the Lotion In The Basket” song by Greenskeeper.   Unless the Silence of the Lambs was too upsetting for you.  Then don’t.   I’ve had that song in my head all weekend.   I want someone to sing that to someone on their first date.  Just start serenading them with their guitar: “…And then I’ll bury you un-der-neath a log”.

C’mon people now, smile on your brother. Unless he has a swastika tattoo. Then maybe let that one go.

I love reading blogs. I love that you can experience aspects of life on this planet, that you might never experience or know about, by reading someone’s blog. I can know about someone’s experience with being culturally displaced in this country, for example, and feel like I’m getting it all firsthand, like in an e-mail. You wouldn’t have been able to get that through books without feeling like it had been polished, edited and reread many times over.

I’ve been in L.A. for two years now, and I feel the sting of racism or what has been called reverse racism, on a regular basis. I feel it almost every day. It’s not a position that is likely to evoke sympathy. I have always had a lot of friends whose families descend from south of the border, to the point where I find comfort in these families, in their homes. There’s just something familiar about it. And they either love or hate me. I’ve had it explained to me that when they love me, it has to do with always treating my friend like an individual, when they might have grown up in a home with a huge amount of kids and hadn’t experienced a lot of that. However, if you have an aversion to white people, you will probably have an aversion to me, because MAN am I ever white. I talk in a way that is sooo white. And if I’m uncomfortable, I just start to sound whiter. I understand how a general distaste for white people can occur, because I’ve seen how racist white people can get. I can completely understand how you might just write them all off. But it’s only been in recent years that I’ve come to this understanding. Before that, it deeply hurt me to have the bulk of someone’s family dislike me for something I can’t help. Or co-workers, or classmates. I’m white, I act white, and I sound white. I’m also skinny, so pile that on, and glare. Europeans have been here for centuries now, and their racist and oppressive actions have only begun to mellow out in the past generation or two. I can’t even begin to list the ways that current generations of Caucasians continue to inherit these benefits. I understand socioeconomics at least to that extent. Sure, we seem to all have the same life available to us and a person can work hard and study and rise up. It’s no coincidence, however, that people often stay in the economic class that they are born into. I am not saying all do; I’m not going anywhere near that. Oh wait, I am. There’s just no accounting for the guidance and opportunities given to people born into privilege, even if they pay for college themselves, and most often, they don’t. College isn’t the only thing that gets a person places. They still have to build a career, and its so much harder to build a career when you don’t have any connections. You can still claw your way in, but there’s no accounting for the power of discouragement. So yeah, white people are SOOO still benefiting from the years before the civil rights movement. There are still families in the south that have been wealthy since the days of tobacco plantations, and that money isn’t theirs. Not to mention the money, encouragement and leg-ups that trickled out to carefully chosen and often very pale recipients. Racism in this country is a tangled mess that will take years to sort out, if ever, and hopefully in a couple of centuries we will all have a nice honey-colored complexion, and, maybe as a bonus, there will be a lot less skin cancer.

In the meantime, I appreciate the deeper understanding I gain from being able to read blogs from people who are living in a reality so much different than mine. It makes me quit feeling sorry for myself and maybe get a glimmer of understanding that we’re all having our own unique experience here.

Things I’d rather do than be sick.

My internet is down at my house, so I’m not able to post much.
Also I have a cold. It’s so fun to be me right now. It’s better than being homeless, but only a little. I’d rather be getting shipped off to Normandy tomorrow, than be sick. I’d rather drive a Pinto. I’d rather be super hairy. I’d rather be a cabby in India.

I’d rather be getting chased around by an axe murderer.

On a computer with icons the size of your hand

Check out the world’s oldest blogger, 108 year old Olive Riley. Equally adorable is the world’s second oldest blogger, María Amelia López, but she blogs in Spanish, so unless she spends a lot of time talking about red dogs, I wouldn’t understand what she’s saying. Here’s an article about her in English. She’s actually tied with Don at Don To Earth, in Canada.

I’m sure I’ll be blogging too when I’m 100, even if I stop sometimes. I’ll always come back to it. I’ve journaled regularly since I was 12 years old.

Link Soup

I am always looking for good blogs to read, besides the ones of people I know (I love those and wish there were more. MORE!). I read all of Dooce’s blogs, from 2001 to current, and I enjoyed it so much that I was wishing it was a paperback. The first blog I fell in love with was written by Bobby Burgess, called ‘Perceptions’. He still blogs, but the older ones are my favorites. Man, I loved his blog. So I thought with all the hundreds of thousands of blogs out there, I’d find more that I love, but it’s actually pretty hard. This is more due to my short attention span than anything else. Like a difficult newborn baby, I have trouble latching on.

Recently I discovered Blogher, and via that, somehow, oh wait my sister-in-law found it, I got to Indie Bloggers, with Jurgen Nation and Mamalikey, a.k.a. I’m not a girl, not yet a wino. Sooo refreshing, and it only took several months of searching. They have their own blogs, plus run Indie Bloggers. I joined right away. I also like Purple Women, a blog about women choosing to go childless (HI!). But, um, how the Fuck does one put together a comprehensive, non-biased, non-topic oriented, other than funny, list of good blogs? I guess it’s completely subjective, and therefore impossible to run a search on. You just have to search, search and search forever.

And I don’t mind mommyblogs at all, it’s just delicate territory. I don’t want to hear how cute someone’s toddler is, unless they are telling me a story that is in and of itself actually entertaining. Otherwise, I just immediately picture a house full of chaos and toys, and where is the novelty there? Because I can tell you how cute my cat is. He’s so cute, he has to defend himself from me. I can go on and on about him and you will want to kill me.

The reason I blog, as I’ve previously stated, is to reach out to other women, and to the people that are already in my life but are far away. So this thing I spend so much time on, this writing thing that I love so dearly, it becomes so validated when I find other bloggers to read and who interact (thank you, Jergen Nation!). It makes it all start to sink in, and it feels wonderful.

We are at the very beginning of a whole new era for women and communication, all different ages and from all walks of life. We are all sitting outside watching the sunrise, with messed up hair and coffees in our hand.