been really busy this week, and getting busier by the moment. going back down to sf this weekend to visit an old friend. post more after my trip.

A Sordid Fairytale

I'm listening to Tori Amos and one of my favorite songs is " A Sorta Fairytale" from her most recent Album. Her songs are always so dark, strange, and enchanting. My relationship history is a sordid fairy tale as well. My story has been occupied by a colorful cast of characters: a gremlin from Armenia; wild beasts ; hermits, one from the red desert; a evil wizard from the Texas; a pretentious bear from the valley and a Canadian Gnome. I have never been one for Prince Charmings, something about pure perfection that seems unnatural. I much prefer a gnome or a hermit to a prince any day; they are more interesting and fun to date.

I don't identify to this fairy tale analogy because I am a woman who wants to be rescued or carried off in a white Audi 5000 by my Charming Prince but because the mythical landscape of dating and romantic relationships is a strangle realm. You can lose your head as easily as you can lose your heart. There is no telling, the terrains, canyons, forests, and deserts once transverse in the mythical land of fairy tales.There are no tangible lifelines except a good partner, blind faith, an abundance of trust, and an open heart.

Once upon a time a Canadian Gnome and a moon-faced Asian princess met in a dorm full of bad food, odd smells, merry men, damsels in distress, gossip queens, and grey walls. They were opposites and everyone saw this and they knew it too. But for some mystical reason or another they got along well and the apple -checked Gnome made the moon-faced Princess laugh. They were happy together for many moons and hundreds of fortnights.
One day during a walk together they came upon a huge fortress of stone. The monolithic stone walls were covered with green ivy and the Iron gate appeared to be locked. The princess wanted to turn back, but the gnome wanted to continue forward. She urged the gnome to go back before it got dark,
" I'm scared" she whispered.
"It's alright, princess, we'll take and look and see if the gate is surpassable".
The Gnome walked to the rustic iron gate and shaked the lock a couple of times till it shook loose. " Come on, let's go in" encouraged the Gnome.
"What if we are caught? What if there are snakes? What if -"
"It'll be okay, I'll protect you" reassured the gnome.
The princess hesitated for a moment and walk and few steps forward where the gnome reached out his hand for her to hold. The princess took his hand and they went beyond the walls and the gate. Once inside they couldn't believe their eyes, an unending field of gold sunshine, vibrant colored wild flowers, willow trees, and the air smelled of juniper. They ran into the field of gold, chasing each other until they fell under the arm of a huge willow tree and fell asleep with smiles on their faces and glee in their hearts.
The princess slowly open her eyes to the night and saw that the once-vibrant flowers were wilted and lifeless and fallen to the ground. The rich gold fields had disappeared leaving a barren and fruitless desert. The willow trees looked like huge monsters in the dark their arms swaying to the rough winds.
"Wake up Gnome!" urged the princess. " Look at what our golden paradise has turned into, I getting out of here".
The princess started running for the gate.
" Wait Princess, Wait for me".
The princess turned around at the gnome in flash of rage,
" Let me go, I told you this was a bad idea, why didn't you listen to me!" scowled the princess. " "We can fight get through this , if we stay together." urged the gnome.
" I want to go home!, I can't see anything, I am scared, I need light!"
"Be still" the Gnome said, " We can huddle next to each other to stay warm and wait for the light".
" I don't know if I have it in me to wait"
" I'll wait with you , and I will fight for you to gain the courage to get through this night. I promise we'll see light again."
The Canadian Gnome reached out his hand to the moon-faced princess. She was scared and her heart was beating out of her chest, but she met his reach. He lead her under the willow tree where they had slept, cradled her in his little gnome arms. They closed there eyes and went to sleep.
They woke up to the golden light.
The Gnome and princess decided to stay and live there for the remainder of their days. The princess knew that no matter how many nights there laid ahead , as long as she and the gnome were together, the light would always prevail.

We are

off to San Francisco for a . . . Damn BREAK!!! My ears are humming and my heart is singing the classic tune . . . San Francisco here I come, right back where I started from . . .

Confucius says . .

The Chinese monk who said " Cease to struggle, cease to live" never had to write research reports with extensive literature reviews, and footnotes. All he had was some existential questions on the existences and suffering of life. The advent of post- modern world know as the "Information Age" has presented it citizens' with some interesting and not interesting sufferings, such as term papers. I find it funny that I and many other modern people alike get extremely emotional and even angry when animate objects like the copy machine breaks down or jams the paper in the tray. People try to coax and fig git with the thing till it breaks down completely or it starts working again. I find it curious that people give more attention to a copy machine than to a begger on the street, the elderly, disabled people, or even their own spouse. What would St.Augutine or Confucius have to say about modern sufferings and struggles? What would Confucius do?

disguises and toupees

I'm reminded of happier days in my undergraduate career when i never use to stress (too much) about term papers, reading my books, or my confidence in making above a 3.5 average. I was clam, cool, and collected when it came to college because i knew how to "do" school. It took me 6 six years to finish my undergrad. So by the last two years I had College down pat, like a familiar football strategy or a good pasta recipe. I knew where to access it and that it would never let me down. I was flying in autopilot with my heel kick up on the dash.
I never considered myself a lazy student, a bit of procrastinator, but never lazy. Lately, I noticed that I have had to "try " at school work more. My grad classes are getting more complicated and more is beginning to be expected of us which is really a blessing in a shitty disguise with a protestant work ethic toupee.

" Weekend Time"

The end of another work/school/work/work week has arrived yet again. It's Saturday again for literally the millionth time. The day is just beginning to wake up, the sun is stretching its, taking a yawn and contemplating what to do for the day.

I spend most weekends catching on chores and things I didn't get to do over the week. I did to get better at consolidating my work and chores for the weekdays and leave the weekends for leisure. I feel like everything else, time on the weekends needs its own file folder where I can categorize everything that is "Weekend Time" or anything related to " Weekend time". It's exhausting finding file folders for everything. If anyone were to take a sledge hammer to my head right now, all they would crack open would be beige filing cabinets with multicolored file folders, alphabetized of course, paper clips, stapler, and other obscure office equipment no else has heard of.

Throws of Office-dom

My life has plunge into the depths of serious office work. I sit in front of a couple at least four days a week, filing, writing letters, fundraising, researching, and doing other not-so-fun office stuff. I know my days with office work are plenty, social work is a wonderful, humanistic,I want to save the world profession, but nobody ever tells you how much paper work and office work goes into this so-called "helping" profession. The tag line should read " The helping profession: where you get to learn how to use every piece of office equipment ever invented. If this sounds like your life calling please dial 1800-help-me-to-a-computer-now."

I feel like a big fat liar at job interviews.
I'm reminded of this idea as I will be going off to a plethora of job interviews about a year and a half from now, right after I graduate with a master's in social work ( hopefully).

Every job interview I have ever had in working adult life has consisted of a question in some form that asks where i see myself in the future, or in five years, or 2 weeks. When the question is ignited like a firecracker, all I want to do is put my hands over ears and run away from the red sharp crackling noise that makes my ears bleed. " I don't know really but I hope that perhaps I will be able to afford a new car by then. Hopefully I will have traveled a little and maybe learned how to make a decent lemon tart, my favorite dessert." If only I could say that without sounding like an unmotivated, ambition-less, indecisive drifter that lacks forethought and drive.

I am a liar, not because I don't know from one minute to the next what to do with myself, but because I pretend that I have answers for something I can't even see, touch,hear, smell or feel. I lie and tell the my potential employer that i see myself doing social work forever and that I never have selfish thoughts. I don't care about money or the power that money can wield in my life. I am a self-motivated individual that never accidentally deletes files, says anything politically incorrect or gets tired at the end of the work day. I have unlocked the answers to my life and that is why I make the perfect addition to your company. Am I hired?

I feel so rushed all the time, sometimes more than others. Rushed to finish school, get a job, be on time, know the definite answers to everything concerning my professional life. I know it's not that black and white, but sometimes I feel as though my "in the know" self is living 2 weeks ahead of schedule yelling back at my current self to catch up ,or else we will lose the race. still waiting for myself to catch up to myself.

I am a pretender, but I'll stand by you . . . and me.

pleasure at a measure

Today started busy but got progressively more relaxing, which is usually the progression of most days,but today it happen a lot sooner. By 1:30pm I was done and have had a pretty relaxing afternoon.

I wish I had more interesting and unique things planned for time, but most of my time off is spent folding the laundry I've left in the dryer the last three days or searching for ever more garlicky hummus recipes, paying bills or just lazing about with Nathan in front of the big TV, with ice cream and a movie. It never ceases to amaze me how these simple tasks could give me so much joy and tranquility.

In my earlier years, I would not have been satisfied with plain domestic tasks. I use to work very early mornings at a certain gourmet food store, so I would never have the opportunity to indulge in early morning nights. Every opportunity I got, Kirsten and I would venture out from suburbia and into Hollywood club scene. I remember us dressed in our most "indie" gear swimming in black and blue lighting, mod projections on the wall, and all " the New Order " music you could stomach. We would dance, jump, and sweat our way into the wee hours of Saturday morning with all the "indie" kids, feeling like superstars that were way to cool for jobs, bills,and early mornings. Afterwards we topped off the night with greasy food at our favorite Jewish pit stop, Canters. Then we would drive the 25 miles back into the San Gabriel Mountains on a quiet freeway, my heart soring and my feet hurting.

I recall those days with much fondness and am really happy that I am in a place where I can appreciate those past party moments and even better, find just as much glee in the more domestic and simple pleasures of life. I know some of you may be reading this and think that I am not domestic but rather domesticated, well for those late-nighters out there: " Still livin' the Dream, Baby, I am still livin' the Dream."

Computer jargon

Nathan and I are watching Mr and Mrs. Smith on FX network. I look over to my darling boyfriend and notice that he is speaking to the computer. Not actually speaking, but that he and the computer are conversing in Computer language, which equates to a bunch of symbols, asteriks, and brackets, all of which make no sense to me.

Languges Nathan speaks: 4, French, English, Canadian, and super- complex computer talk.

I love my little linguist :)

The art of good experience

Yesterday, I bought the funniest little book by Ashleigh Brilliant, " Now that I have Given Up Hope, I feel much Better". The book is a composite of funny, and profoundly insightful thoughts and sayings. All thoughts are original and come from the sensible inner workings of a "Brilliant" writer. I found myself not able to put the book down or finish reading it. It isn't very long at all or difficult and trying to read ( like Henry James), but I suspect it's because every time I pick the book up, the thoughts and sayings seem to read new again, like the first time. They are simple quotes and sayings that are so obvious yet so easy to forget. It tickles me submarine yellow to have discovered such a find, let me share some of my favorites:

"Let's make it definite, I'll see you when I see you."
I'm not getting Paid much for staying alive, but it's a good experience,"
" If enough heads hit a brick wall, the wall comes crashing down"
" Everyone is entitled to my opinion"

In other news,
I think Nathan and I have found a place to live next year. We are hoping to move into a little one-bedroom apartment behind the house he lives at currently. It gets good natural light and it's quite spacious for a one bedroom unit, it also has this awesome Octagon window situated in the kitchen. It makes me feel like I'm living in a submarine underwater. I can't wait to move in together. I currently live as a nomad, migrating from one end of town to the next in fashionable hemp boots and a GAP parka. I can't wait to finally have all my stuff in one place. I know it's a simple request but the hike to my house every time I need fresh socks is getting the better of me. In another way, I feel I am tapping into the 1/8 part of me that is of Mongolian Descent. Those Mongolian roots are working hard.

I have spent most of this sunny Arcata day facing my laptop, revising a paper for my research class. A sunny day in Humboldt should never be neglected for anything, especially homework. It's becoming more of common occurrence now in the budding stages of spring for Humboldt to have sunny days, but most of the year it is stoically steel grey and foggy. I wished I could have welcomed the sunny day in flipflops,tank top, lemonade, and a smile on the Northern California coastline. It ok, sunny days to come all month.

I find the art of revision is a more difficult task than the initial writing of a first draft. A second or third draft requires so much more patience and thoughtful analysis and participation. One can't be lazy in a revising, it's a painstaking task in careful observation of something I feel I know well.I feel so good when I finish because I have surprised myself by the better place I got my paper to venture then I had initially expected. This feeling speaks to me on many days and in many ways.

One thought my friend Kim said,
"Everything that takes love . . .takes work."

Mood: enlightened
Listening to: a still sunset