Wanderlust Homebodies

Puffiness.

2011-05-20T04:39:00.000-06:00

I have an interview at 10:30 tomorrow morning. I want this job so bad it hurts. It might make up for me failing my classes right now and that unwritten short story sitting open on my desktop that was due 17 hours ago... Or at least it will be something fun to do this summer.

Collecting writing samples and figuring out what to wear. I'm way too emotional to sleep.

All my plants are dead.

2011-05-12T06:01:00.000-06:00

So is my goldfish.

It's been a rough year.

Adventures in Gardening: Episode 1

2010-08-05T12:44:00.010-06:00

I’ve always wanted a garden. There are tons of baby and kiddo photos of me in the garden with my mom or grandma, pulling weeds or helping plant new annuals. My mother has always had beautifully landscaped flowerbeds as well as happy potted plants scattered around the house and porch. In college, I attempted to keep a sad little plant alive, but alas, houseplants apparently don’t enjoy living atop a radiator. Needless to say, I’m afraid a green thumb is not a hereditary genetic trait.

Living in the house in north Seattle last summer, there was plenty of sunlight and a backyard. I never really gardened outside there, but I had an aloe plant and a lava rock plant with beautiful crimson flowers. They looked so nice on the window seat next to my red beta fish, Henry, who was NOT happy on the bench. Henry used to be happy, but I think he became a sufferer of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after moving from Park City to Seattle in a plastic cup in the cup holder of a Jeep with me. The natural light and quiet, open surroundings probably just added to the shock; his previous home had been on a shelf in my subterranean basement room. The lights were always low and he loved to dance to either gangster rap or old punk albums that thudded from my sound system. We lived the hard, secret life of crazy recluses. Normalcy must have just sent him over edge. I always knew he had an eating disorder… but he just stopped eating altogether and ended up killing himself. We went through a lot together, Henry. I hope you’ve found a better place.

So I had these two plants, along with three little cacti that I couldn’t kill if I tried. Well, maybe. But anyways, I moved the gang to a studio apartment. I love it, especially because it’s cheap. Unfortunately, part of the reason it’s so cheap is because it gets almost no sunlight. My windows are on the south side of building, which looks out at the building next door. At least there’s ivy on the opposing wall. And on the ground below, there are some more ivy and a bunch of ferns. So it’s not as bad as it could be, I guess. The dumpsters could be there instead.

The indoor jungle arranged by the only source of natural light. You’d have no idea from looking out my window that it’s actually a bright and sunny afternoon today.

So with little to no sunlight, my lava plant, though still alive, has stopped blooming. It just looks like a bizarre space ship the floated down and landed on my table. You can see it in the photo above, the second plant from the left, along with the three tiny cacti on the windowsill above it.

The aloe… oh aloe. I have aloe because I have an extraordinary knack for burning myself (coming soon: Adventures in Baking!). Aloe comes in handy for that, so I had it on my kitchen counter. Well… it never got any sunlight and I watered it too much, so it just started getting really sad and limp. I moved it to the exterior windowsill and it just got burned by the morning sun.

Now inside and on a diet of no water. It actually looks a lot better here than it did before… hopefully the improvement continues.

So those are the veterans. Recently, craving more usefulness in my garden, I purchased a rosemary plant and a lavender plant from Whole Foods. They were both small herbs, so I put them in the same blue pot I had. Just like a couple of old ladies, Lavender’s overbearing character soon overtook Rosemary’s mild temperament. Rosemary died back while Lavender flourished. Today, I replanted Rosemary in her own can and rearranged Lavender in her blue pot.

Look at that… so smug that she got her way.

Hopefully Rosemary will take to her new solo arrangement. Also pictured: ficus clippings. Every tree starts small!

About a month ago I took clippings, with the help of my coworker, from a couple of houseplants at Cloud City Coffee, where I work. The two ficus clippings sat in a jelly jar of water since then and sprouted roots! Today I moved them each to their own can. It will be interesting to see how this goes, as I’ve no experience with clippings.

The other plant I took clippings from is still in its jelly jar. It’s sort of getting roots- or at least it has little nubbies forming at the joints of the stems. Bella (my coworker) told me it is called a pathos plant and is a great houseplant as it doesn’t need much light and is easy to take clippings of.

pathos: n. a quality that evokes pity or sadness. Yeah, that seems about right….

There’s one more little friend, by far the standout survivor of the bunch. After the accident, my friend, Amzeah, gave me an orange Gerbera daisy. It came in one of those little supermarket plastic pots with foil around it and looked like it was just ITCHING it get out, so I planted it in a much larger can and have been keeping it out in the sun. Look how happy it is. It also has plenty of new buds forming, so it should keep blooming, if only the weather would warm up a little bit.

I should note that I didn’t have more than the yellow and blue pots, and I don’t have a lot of money, so I just started collecting metal cans from my kitchen and at work. The big one the Gerbera daisy now lives in used to be filled with either corn or salsa. And the ficus cans were sweetened condensed milk. I just use a knife and a hammer (I didn’t have a nail big enough) to poke 5-10 holes in the bottom, depending on the size. Then I fill it with about an inch of washed gravel from Ace Hardware. This allows water to drain from the can without losing soil. The plants are much happier, and it’s a good way to recycle cans. I was thinking of decorating them, but I think I like the look as it is for now.

Whew! That was quite the post, but for the first post of what should be an ongoing project, I think it all came out very well. Thanks for sticking with me! I’ll continue to write about my little urban plant collection as it grows and develops.

Vacation?

2010-07-20T13:39:00.007-06:00

Somewhere under that fire is Joey's bike, and somewhere to the right of it is me and my beau.

In the early hours of July 3rd, my boyfriend, Joey, and I were riding home from my parents' apartment building to my apartment building. It's about a mile and a half through downtown Seattle, and not even the part of downtown that would be busy on a Friday night. We didn't make it home... about a block from the Police headquarters, right next to the court house, we were hit from the left by a giant, speeding white SUV. White SUVs will now forever haunt my nightmares, hiding in dark corners, waiting to pounce at any given moment.

So, we're hit by this crazy driver (and the four other people in their car). I blacked out from the impact, and due to Joey's concussion, he doesn't remember a thing. But honestly, by looking at the press photos (taken by a guy from his apartment above) and from waking up in planter near the sidewalk with FIRE immediately to my left, this crash was definitely directed by none other than action movie pseudo-legend Michael Bay. I guess I should be flattered that I was chosen for this part as a stuntwoman, but I really would have love to have been told beforehand, as the massive damage to my body, including a broken femur, would have been easier to take.

On a more serious note, Joey and I owe our lives to the men and women of the police station who responded and put their own lives in danger by pulling us out of the fire to safety. There were some at least one explosion-sound as Joey's motorcycle took immediate revenge on the car by igniting its gas tank and placing itself directly under the hood of the SUV. Rest in peace, little buddy; you were an amazing bike. The only other casualty was the fern that I ended up laying underneath... I drove by the site of the accident a few days ago and it looks like that plant didn't make it through the fire. Thank you again to the police that I DID make it out of the fire.

None of the 5 people in the SUV were hurt. Which I suppose is good? I have conflicting feelings, as OF COURSE I don't want to see another human being injured, but I'm also $#%*ing pissed about being hit by them. Joey and I have broken bones, and one of the police officers had to be taken into the hospital, but all three of us are okay.

WHEW. Since I got out of the hospital last week, I've literally just been sitting on my parents' couch. Luckily, I still have a job at Reckless Video. My boss and the owner love me enough to let me take a sweet four week long vacation. The worst vacation ever. In like, the best part of the summer. At least I don't have a cast like Joey does, but I'm also bitter about that. Worse is that our lack of transportation prevents us from seeing one another.

Enough bitching though. Some positive things about this vacation:

It's given me plenty of time to think. Most of the time I feel like I'm rushing around and not accomplishing much, so this has been a good chance for my brain to catch up with my life.

An inability to go out also means I'm not spending money! Which is especially good because I'm also not making an income at the moment. So it's kind of balancing out.

I'm getting a chance to catch up on my reading. I ready The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Steig Larsson. It was compulsively annoying and yet I could not put it down. I started to read the next book in the series, The Girl Who Played With Fire, but after nothing happened in the first 100 pages, I decided to put it down. (That's a total lie- a hurricane and a breast enhancement surgery happened in the first 100 pages. It just didn't seem like anything happened... which is worse.) Now I've moved on to a book I started last year, but had to return to the library, Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle by Chris Hedges. This book is utterly amazing. It is a bit slower of a read, as there is so much that makes me think (and a little that makes me angry), so I find myself having to take breaks to think on what he's said. These are the best kinds of books in my opinion. I would recommend this book to everyone.

The only bummer is I can't catch up on Nostalgia Chick video reviews, as there's something wrong with my flash player. But that doesn't mean you all can't enjoy one of my favourites:

Bye bye for now. If you have any awesome things I could be doing with all this free time, please let me know!

Here's to the past 3 months of my life being over...

2009-11-16T21:06:00.003-07:00

2009 must be the year of life lessons.

Of course, moving into a house that isn't my parents' is a big step. On top of learning how to live with four other people, I've learned a few other things:

1) Never sign a lease when you're the only one on it and you're relying on four other people to pay rent. And if you do, make sure to make them sign subleases. Never offer to pay rent for a "friend," even if it means that it's saving your own ass. They will take advantage of you, and they probably will not pay you back.

2) Don't assume that people have respect for you or your property. If your shit gets ruined, I find it best to leave notes. Be cautioned though; if the note is too bitchy, it will at best be ignored and at worst, great time and care will be taken to do the exact opposite. A sense of humor works best (as with my "Stop Metal-On-Metal Brutality" pamphlet after I found someone had ruined my nonstick fry pans by using a knife on them).

And lastly, thanks to two of the people I lived with (who also caused the above problems):

3) Don't live with a drunk. They pee on your couches, break dishes (sometimes by falling onto them), steal your cigarettes and food, victimize themselves and make you feel guilty in order to help themselves, and all around make it a living hell to generally be around them. Drunk people are fun at bars. They often appear silly and jovial, or if they are angry, you have the comfort of not having to deal with it. When you live with a drunk, you HAVE to deal with it. Even if you leave them at the bar so you don't have to carry them home after they've passed out all bloody from falling on their own drink (true story), they will eventually come home and they will eventually be drunk IN your home because it's their home, too. They lose their jobs because they are drunk/hungover, and they spend all of the little money they do have on booze. They come home from their jobs and complain how they don't make enough money, they are poor and hungry, and then knock down half a dozen beers in under 15 minutes.

I speak from experience as that exact thing JUST HAPPENED IN MY KITCHEN. Not only does this person have a higher paying job than I do and is able to work more hours, but he manages to bitches about it all the time, not have money for rent or bills, and use all my food with the excuse that he'd starve otherwise. I watched him piss away his money on booze (literally, as with the couch incidents), and then try to apply for food stamps. When he was turned down by the program, he started going to the food bank. As glad as I am that he doesn't eat my food anymore, and as much as I support food bank programs, it's still disheartening to see this guy come home with fresh fruit and vegetables and enough bread to last him a month- every week. Somehow, he can still manage to complain about it- there are too many carbs, not enough protein and produce. Bald lies- I threw away the oranges and spinach he had brought home after they molded from sitting around so long.

I guess the problem is not so much that he's a drunk, but that he sees himself as a victim and has no self-respect or confidence. He manipulates others and blames the world for his ills, when really he has so much control over every situation.

One good lesson comes from having had to live for 3 months with this person- I see him and am reaffirmed that I will never become like him. I will take the 12 years of life that separates us in age and grow to be a better person- not a deadbeat who saves other's cigarette butts instead of quitting when I can't afford to smoke.

Good Riddance.

Case of the blahhhhs.

2009-09-30T20:36:00.002-06:00

I have, well... had, every intention on writing about my trip to Truckee that ended up being a trip to the top of a mountain, the Castro, the beach, and some weird places within my head. If I'm honest with myself, I haven't taken the time to sit and think about it. And I'm really not sure if I want to afford that time that was so wonderfully an escape.

I finally found a job. At Reckless Video, up the street from my house. It's wonderful. It's small, the people who own and work in it are great. Watching movies for a living is the greatest thing, but I'm getting pretty glued to my couch. I realize now how many movies I HAVEN'T seen. I'm also realizing that the average person rents really terrible movies.

The pursuit for another job is still on, though I'm not as worried about it. I'm still holding out for a bartending job. My bitterness towards Seattle Bartending College is subsiding, though.

My latest goal is to stop waking up at 3pm. Everything good to do during the day is already over by then, unless there's some amazing project I'm trying to work on. I'm pretty sure that watching shitty t.v. shows on hulu.com doesn't qualify in that category...

Until next time...

On the road.

2009-07-30T03:27:00.002-06:00

Just got home from a night out, bar-hopping with friends and NOT DRINKING. So very proud of myself for sticking to tonic with lime. It also makes me a cheap date. Unfortunately, I also got to see how ridiculous my friends can look while drunk from the view of sobriety...

And now, to pack for the trip to Truckee. I have an entire bag of gummy worms and it's WAY too hot to sleep anyways, so this should be a snap. What I really haven't mentally prepared myself for is the 23-hour long bus ride ahead of me. At least I'll get some sleep, I suppose.

Feeling a little better...

2009-07-27T17:33:00.002-06:00

Just reread my older posts. I feel a little better about myself... I'm actually pretty damn funny.

Now that I'm not so depressed, I think I'll actually leave my house today. Wish me luck. Though I have to say that yesterday's packed schedule of masturbating and then watching cartoons in my underwear with 24 oz. of Pabst Blue Ribbon was pretty amazing.

Dear lord I am such a loser.

Well fuck.

2009-07-27T17:11:00.002-06:00

As it turns out, I have no real marketable skills. At least, if I DO have any skills, they are either unmarketable, or marketing is not one of my skills.

I've been in Seattle for over a month now, so I really can't use the excuse "I just got here, I'm still getting used to the area" as a reason for my unemployment. It's not that I haven't been trying to find a job... it just seems like I can never find a job I'll actually think I'll enjoy. Like anyone can, I suppose.

Because the retail and service industries are really all I've tried to look for work in so far, I thought I'd check out Craigslist and see if anything interesting is up. I don't really qualify for ANYTHING in the artistic or writing fields. I'm only 21 and I'm already failing to live out my dream of being a writer/artist. I realized that I have no experience or really any talent in either, so I guess until I get some of those things, I should check somewhere else.

It's really too bad that most of the teaching jobs require a B.A.... I think I'm probably more intelligent than a lot of people with B.A.'s. I'm not really ready to be stuck in a classroom again, Monday through Friday, 7 am to 4 pm.

I had a student last year who, upon finding out I never finished college, consoled me by telling me I didn't need a Bachelor of Arts because I already had a different B.A.: a BadAss degree.

Thanks, Jackson.

Nightmares

2009-04-24T01:47:00.002-06:00

I couldn't find "Terrible Doctor" but Jascha's other stuff is pretty fucked up too. And hilarious. But not quite as haunting as hearing 8 minutes of someone talking about skull fucking.

There are mice in my walls. They are driving me absolutely fucking crazy.

David won't pick up his phone. And never calls back.

I'm just having a bad week. I feel out of sync. It's not a good feeling at all.

Utah's (controlling) Liquor Laws

2009-01-10T17:01:00.004-07:00

Actual excerpt from the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control's (DABC) website:

On a chartered bus, you may consume alcoholic beverages on the way to your destination and on return, only if you are dropped off at your hotel, temporary domicile, or residence at the end of the trip. If you are dropped off at a location where you will likely have to drive to get back to your hotel or home, then alcohol may not be consumed in the chartered bus on the return trip.

Seriously?! Man the state of Utah LOVES to control the sinners. Because heaven forbid you might actually take a cab home...

Utah is a control state, and only the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control (DABC) may lawfully have liquor products imported and shipped into Utah. Private individuals may not lawfully import or transport them into the state.

A person coming from a foreign country who clears U.S. customs in Utah may possess, for personal consumption, two liter bottles of liquor purchased outside of Utah. Also, a person who moves his permanent residence to Utah or maintains separate residences both in and out of Utah, may possess for personal consumption, and not for sale or resale, liquor purchased outside of Utah. However, the person must first obtain DABC approval prior to moving to Utah; and upon the arrival of the product, the DABC will affix the Utah label to the liquor for an administrative handling fee. A person may not obtain approval from the DABC under this exception more than once.

So, in other words, no one in the state of Utah can belong to one of those mail-order "Wine of the Month Clubs". Tough break, man.

Another fun fact: there are no legal keggers in Utah. Unless you want to get a license and just have 3.2% beer:

Utah has a keg beer law, that prohibits anyone other than a licensed beer retailer from possessing beer (3.2%) in containers larger than two liters. Thus, if you want to serve beer on draft, you will have to obtain a temporary beer permit from the local government entity where you plan to sell and serve the beer. Once you obtain the permit, you may purchase beer in kegs from a local Utah beer wholesaler.

Utah law limits the sale of full strength (heavy) beer to bottles and cans not exceeding one (1) liter. Thus, the State does not stock or sell heavy beer in kegs, and full strength beer may not be dispensed on draft.

The only way around these laws are if you are a foreign diplomat, because then you have the Vienna Conventions on Diplomatic and Consular Relations behind you. (check it out here)

I can't decide what Utah's LDS-ridden legislature loves more: control or taxes.

If it's called tourist season, then why can't we shoot them?

2009-01-07T23:07:00.004-07:00

Just kidding.

Um, but seriously folks; when you go on a ski vacation, you should probably dress appropriately.

I really wish I had a photo of the other night when Julia, Alia and I got a little silly and went down to Main Street the Saturday night after Christmas. Prime tourist season, the busiest it will be in town until Sundance Film Festival starts in a few weeks.
So, we just had a big snowstorm. The end of December and January is the coldest time of the year.
Young, rich tourists at bars are hilarious. In the most pathetic sense of the word. We pass a guy I can only describe as a "bro" (okay maybe he could also be described as a "douche"...) on his cell outside a bar talking about how he got kicked out. He is like screaming and the sidewalk is pretty damn busy. Every guy we pass is wearing no coat and some form of baseball cap/sunglasses combo. And they all try to hit on us in the most masculine ways. But this is not the worst of it.
No joke, 99% of the females on Main Street are wearing SHORT skirts. Granted, I was also wearing a skirt (it was No Pants December, bitch), but at least I had the sense to put on a pair of tights under thigh-high wool stockings and boots. These chicks had no tights or stockings and were wearing Serious Heels. Many of them were even wearing high-heeled SANDALS.

Okay, seriously. WHO ARE YOU!? You came on vacation to a small ski resort town in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. The elevation is 7,000 feet at the BASE of the mountain. It snows a shit ton, especially this time of year. Also, as previously mentioned, it's a mountain town. Which means the streets will probably be hilly and steep. And icy, since in the mountains it gets cold when the sun goes down.

I'm all for sacrificing practicality for fabulosity. But not when drunkenly slipping on an icy hill, falling into a snow bank, and possibly getting hypothermia are more likely than getting laid by someone who's not a complete tool.

Even though we didn't go into any bars, it was a thoroughly entertaining night. It makes me fearful but also amusedly excited for people watching during Sundance.

The sights of that night also made me really happy that every dumbass thing I've done on Main Street in Park City (and oh there have been plenty) were not performed at times when they would be the nightly entertainment for a large crowd of people...

It's good to be a local.

Be considerate like Captain America.

2008-12-11T19:24:00.003-07:00

Amazing. Thank you for finding and posting this, Chunk.

Another Month Gone By

2008-11-30T17:20:00.002-07:00

It is the last day of November. Tomorrow begins December, a month filled with the holidays, too much food preparation, no pants, and snowboarding. I'm pretty excited.

Let me just say that I give some serious props to anyone who cooks a Thanksgiving/other holiday meal. John and I cooked on our own for the first time this year. It turned out pretty well, but DAMN IT WAS EXPENSIVE. We may have undercooked parts of the turkey (good thing no one really likes the dark meat) and the gravy was kinda lumpy... but we didn't complain and neither did our one guest, Grant. I do recommend NOT going to the grocery store the day before. I also recommend having a few drinks before doing anything related to preparing the meal.

No Pants December officially begins tomorrow. I'd be more excited if I didn't have to actually look nice for work (no shorts with tights... I'll never make it). Also, I think snow pants will disqualify my efforts.

The Canyons officially pushed back their opening date from November 27th to December 5th. I'm bummed, but seeing as there is really no snow yet... I'm not surprised. I hate global warming. All you people out there who don't care about changing climates, fuck you. Seriously. I've spent more energy and time than I can even quantify worrying over, fighting, and experiencing the consequences of your actions/lack of action. So thank you for being apathetic, because it taught me to have zero faith in humanity and to accept the world around me. I hate it.

Las Vegas was fun this past weekend, but I am seriously happy I live in the mountains where I can roll out of bed and throw on some jeans and flannel instead of having to look glamorous all the time. It's amusing for awhile, but I have some sick blisters from heels. Also, I love beer, cold weather, and not getting hit by cars. Though walking around the Strip with a Yard-Long was pretty damn liberating in a strange way.

Well, it's time to watch the first holiday movie of the season with the family (is it okay for me to play the "Elf" drinking game by myself?). Since I'm now down to one 32-hour a week job and still have very little inclination to exercise or quit smoking, I'm sure I will be writing sooner than expected.
Toodles.

November Fourth was a (blank) day.

2008-11-05T23:36:00.007-07:00

Insert your own opinion in the blank because, honestly, I can't decide. Let's go over the pros and cons.

- Politics -

Needless to say, I am psyched beyond belief that Barack Obama is our president-elect. OBVIOUS PRO.
It looks like both the House and Senate will be controlled by the Democrats. Not sure how effective having Dems in the legislative and executive branches... but hey I'm excited for some change 'round here! PRO.
I'll just go ahead and drop the big bomb... Arizona, Florida, and California all banned gay marriage. HUGE CON.

Various other ballot measures in various states that I don't live in passed some things. Some states didn't pass some things. Washington now allows doctor-assisted suicide (PRO), Arkansas prevents unmarried couples (read: gay couples) from adopting (CON), Michigan allows medicinal marijuana (PRO) and stem cell research (PRO). Some states turned down limits to abortions (PRO), and Colorado decided not to change human life to begin at fertilization (PRO). I mean please, a fertilized egg should not have the same constitutional rights as an adult.
In some stupid news, Florida voted to preserve an archaic law that barred Asian immigrants from owning land. It can't be enforced due to equal protection laws, but come on Florida! Why do you think you still need this law?? Did you even read the ballot? CON.

Oh one last thing in politics: Michelle Obama's dress was pretty heinous. Sorry Mrs. First Lady-to-be, but your wardrobe choice was a tragic mistake. CON.

- Weather -

Yeah, I know... a usually mundane topic but I promise this time it's not. It snowed. Quite a bit. PRO.
Which means the ski resorts are right on schedule to open in a few weeks. FUTURE PRO.

And... whenever a snowstorm is brewing, our local weatherman wears a white suit. I'm pretty sure he got it when he was commodore of the yacht club in 1983. PRO.

- Countdown -

Exactly three weeks (CON) from Tuesday, November 4, I will be on an airplane to Las Vegas to spend Thanksgiving with my brother (PRO).

- New Job -

I started teaching swim lessons at the pool. That means five more hours of paid work each week (PRO), but it also means dealing with crying 3-year-olds (CON).

Tuesday had its ups and downs... so much so that it took me more than a full day to recover and post this entry. I remember when I moved to Mercer Island, WA from Truckee, CA. It was my junior year of high school and it was a BIG DEAL to everyone on Fridays during English class to sit in a circle and have everyone name one up and one down of the week. It seemed so childish at first, but you know, I really miss it. It's nice to sound off on what was bad without a huge rant and just let go of it and then recover with a big plus to bring your spirits up. It seems like, all in all, Tuesday came out okay.
Especially since it's still snowing!

Fall Update

2008-11-03T16:15:00.002-07:00

Suddenly it's November... how did that happen?

Halloween came and went without anyone being able to see my amazing mime costume. Oh well. At least all seven trick-or-treaters we had got to see my dad and my professional quality jack-o-lanterns.

I keep getting depressed that I am under 21 and cannot go out to bars, but I've decided to reassess the situation from a different perspective. Instead of being sad I'm not seven months in the future, I should embrace this opportunity to enjoy being underage. I'm not sure what perks there really are to this... but maybe I can come up with a few:
-Staying up all night watching "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and eating candy.
-Doing a jigsaw puzzle on a Friday night - and still being in bed by 10p.m.
-Drinking your parents' alcohol (it's expensive!)
-Not having to worry about how you're going to get home after drinking too much (you're already there!)
-Feeling dangerous when you actually do sneak into a bar.
-No hangovers.

Also, being able to laugh at your immature coworker who is amazing already 21 when he asks on Monday if you went to any wild parties over the weekend. It's fun to giggle in my head and ask him what wild parties HE went to... oh dear.

Anyways, it tried to snow yesterday. The ski slopes have a nice dusting. It's so exciting to look up and see white. The forecast says MORE SNOW! so I'm pretty stoked for the season to start soon. Canyons opens Thanksgiving... so as soon as I get back from Las Vegas, it's back on my board :)

Things I Love #1

2008-10-15T00:33:00.003-06:00

There is a middle-aged woman who comes to the gym every day in one of many different colored velour sweatsuits and metallic accessories. She always goes to the same elliptical machine and the zippered sweatshirt always matches the bell-bottomed sweatpants. The first time I saw her, she was wearing a brown sweatsuit with GOLD Skullcandy headgear. Very classy. I saw her again today in a lovely pale green number with.... metallic green Skullcandys.
I want this woman's sense of style and never ending supply of sweet, sweet headphones.

Now I remember why I love the Rocky Mountains

2008-10-12T19:48:00.004-06:00

It snowed at least 6 inches at my house this weekend.

In case that didn't sink in: let me reiterate. The date is October the 12th and there is snow covering my yard, house, and car. Note the photo of me scraping the ice off my windshield tonight so that it won't be so bad in the morning (it's forecasted to get down to 18 degrees Fahrenheit tonight). The snow on the top of the car isn't even all that we got.

Down in Park City proper, there is not as much snow, as it has all melted. But up a couple hundred feet in the mountains (like where we live and also the ski hills), there is plenty still on the ground. I was so excited to wake up yesterday morning to see it snowing heavily. My dad came home around noon with a brand-spanking new snowblower. Not that we needed it this weekend, but the early precipitation is quite the wake-up call as to what we should expect this winter.

The snow will all probably melt by the end of the week, which I suppose is okay with me. I mean it's not even Halloween yet.
But it does certainly remind me of how much I love winter, how excited I am for snowboarding, and why I love living here in Utah... which is easy to forget sometimes.

Age is just a number... and a noticeable generational gap.

2008-10-08T22:12:00.004-06:00

My current place of employment is Ecker Hill International Middle School. I think it gets the "International" title because it's recognized as an International Baccalaureate school, even though that program doesn't really start until high school... I guess we just prepare them for the hard work that's to come. Or something. In any case, I love my job. I'm a teacher's aide for a group of seventh grade teachers and have about 160 students that I see every day. It's great; every day is different and full of ridiculousness (you wouldn't believe some of the things those little bastards say).

One thing I've never encountered before in a job: lunch in the teacher's lounge. Think a bunch of middle-aged adults eating Lean Cuisine. Think "People" magazines strew about the tables. Think talking about parenting classes and 401(k)s. I am definitely out of my element. And yet, I love love LOVE listening to their conversations. Here are all these people around my parents' ages, and they are my peers. It's so strange and so wonderful. Especially when they start telling stories about their kids and their roles as parents and the only way I can relate is by thinking about MY parents.

The other end of the spectrum is that the students I teach are a scant eight years younger than me. Though this doesn't seem like a big age gap (it's smaller than the one I share with my fellow faculty members), keep in mind that these kids have not finished going through puberty yet. They still make inappropriate jokes about farting (which still make me laugh) and are just now discovering how funny the idea of sex is. Since I am so young for a teacher, though, there are at least 4 of my students with crushes on me. One asked me today if I would marry him. Another told me that he saw his friend checking me out, which made his friend (who was standing next to him) blush. This amuses me until I remember that I've just recently been romantically involved with a guy eight years older than me...

So I'm kind of stuck in the middle. I'm in a position of authority and maturity over the students and we could not be described as "friends." I'm also about 20 years younger than most of my coworkers, almost all of whom have children of their own (some older than me). I guess someone needs to represent the 20-something range.

And who couldn't love a job where part of a normal day is helping a kid dig his retainer out of a trash can?

From the glossies to the wall.

2008-10-05T19:10:00.003-06:00

I recently visited Brittany Powell’s exhibit ‘West Elm’ at the Kimball Arts center. To creat the exhibit, Powell covered the white walls with a contact paper that looks like wood grain, then cut out images from the West Elm furniture catalogue. The artist literally reproduced the pages onto the walls of the main gallery, but with no attempt to make them realistic. The exhibit sparked my mind on some pretty deep issues that Powell may or may not have meant for her viewer to relate to her piece: Is this an attempt to show how shallow and two-dimensional our material lives are? That the satisfaction gained from material possessions is superficial? Perhaps her use of two-dimensional images is meant to show us that there is no depth, no sentimental value in our possessions. Factory produced, the veneer peels right off to reveal nothing of emotional or moral value - a blank, white wall. Indeed, some of the contact paper is beginning to come off the walls.

In her piece, Powell uses wavering lines, showing that her work is handmade, unlike the furniture in the catalogue. She has included images of the staples in the page, reminding us that we are looking at nothing but a piece of paper. Being an advertisement, however, the pages tell us that we can be happier, that we can “cuddle up with the ones we love” in a designer bed frame. The cartoon, graphic quality of the work gives the notion that we are in a made-up story of our lives centered in the home. There are no people, but there are suggestions of someone living here - a pearl necklace draped in a drawer, open books on a coffee table, a turned-down bed ready for someone to climb into. It could be our home, if we can afford the price tag that comes with it. By making it life-size, Powell’s images are almost more inviting than the catalogue, and yet neither are realistic.

The gallery provided an original copy of the West Elm furniture catalogue. I picked it up to flip through and compare with the walls in front of me (I was the only one in the gallery at 4:30 on a Monday afternoon and did not have to worry about someone else wanting to share, so why not?). As I approached the first piece, I opened the catalogue and happened upon the same page that was on the wall. My gut reaction was to immediately shut the catalogue. I opened it again and forced myself to study the likenesses and differences. If you can understand the nature of uncanniness, you will forgive me for my inability to articulate my reaction. The page, a colored but flat vision of a model living room seemed so much more real to my eyes than the two-toned, life-size cartoon on the wall in front of me. The miniature furniture in my hands looked like I could sit in it, walk around it, live with it in a very realistic sense - if only I could shrink myself to three inches tall. I was holding in my hands a version of my life filled with happiness and designer chairs. The catalogue held a place where my home was the best, the most expensive (or at least looked that way): a consumer’s paradise. The cut-outs in front of me belonged in a separate world completely. I was in a cartoon fantasy land, a two-dimensional house where I could walk left and right but not forward. Instead of being three inches tall, I was now a flat piece of contact paper living in my paper house. It was a bizarre feeling, not knowing which reproduction was more closely related (or unrelated) to reality.

The statement given in press announcements about Powell’s exhibit explains how her work removes the commercial quality from West Elm. In her exhibit, it says, she will “create a site specific installation ... depicting a succession of wall-size pages from the West Elm catalogue.” It describes her process, how she covers the wall with contact paper and “cuts detailed designs through with an exact-o knife.” Finally, the blurb tells us that “making the mass-produced into something unique and irreproducible, Powell removes the act of commerce from the images.” While there is truth in this statement, one cannot help but wonder more. Is the catalogue merely Powell’s starting inspiration, or is she making a comment on our generation’s mass-produced catalogue culture? Does the catalogue serve as an image to emulate, or an image to mock? Perhaps my studies of Marxist philosophy as it applies to production and the worker is influencing my judgement. I encourage all to visit this fascinating exhibit and see what you take away from it. Even if no one else has the same reaction as mine, that is the beauty of art: it allows us to interpret a visual experience into something completely our own.

The Hardest Part of Breaking Up is Getting Back Your Stuff

2008-10-04T23:58:00.003-06:00

Let's go back to the 1990s when boy bands were huge. Remember that terrible era? Yeah, unfortunately I can too. But in the shadow of Backstreet Boys and Nsync, there was 2Gether. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but they wrote a song I can totally relate to: "The Hardest Part of Breaking Up is Getting Back Your Stuff."

Back in August, I broke up with with SamJosh. It was a tough decision. I fell in love with him when I had no one else. He helped me in a lot of ways over the past year. He was a good guy, though at times a little shady and egotistic. But most 20 year old guys are full of themselves, so I didn't really hold that against him. All credits and faults aside, though, it just wasn't working out.

Yes, I could have chosen a better time than 3 days before his birthday to break up with him. Yes, I could have done it before he took me out to dinner and before we were back at his house. How was I supposed to know he wouldn't let me pay?

So I fucked up my original plan, but in the end, I broke it to him pretty gently. And inarticulately. It was a mess, actually. I think he cried. I didn't actually see the tears, but when I left, his cheeks were puffy and his eyes were red. There's no question that he took it pretty hard.

I felt bad. Before we ever dated, he told me how much I meant to him and that we would have a long and fruitful friendship. He was all mystical and said he could tell that our souls connected it a serious way. Um right. That explains why he's now being a royal asshole, I guess?

Back in June, before we went to the Rainbow Gathering together, I lent him my Canon AE-1 SLR camera. It is somewhat of a family heirloom, owned by my grandfather, my uncle, my mother and then me. My parents' wedding photo was taken with that camera. I used it in my high school photography class to shoot some pretty sick shots. And it's just a great camera in general.
Understandably I didn't want to push the matter when I left the day I broke up with him. But now he won't answer or return my calls. He had someone screen his call when I finally got through from a different number and had her tell me that I got the wrong number. Bullshit, dude.

Long story short, it was a bad breakup. But now, a month and a half later, he still has my shit.

So I'll leave you with these words of wisdom from the good men of 2Gether.

It's been so long since I've seen your face,
So long since I've been to first base.
I really miss the feel of your kiss.
But can I have back my things before I get really pissed?

You had my heart, my soul, my attention,
But you walked out my life with my CD collection.

We're breaking up!

Breaking up is hard enough
Say you had nothing but I called your bluff.
You got my sweaters, my hat... I can't find my cat!
The hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff.

So tell me girl, do I have to say please,
Or do I have to involve the police?
There was a time, when I'd trust you alone.
I'd call you up girl, but you took my phone.

You borrow stuff every time I turn my back.
I can't believe I went out with a KLEPTOMANIAC!

We're breaking up!

Breaking up is hard enough
Say you had nothing but I called your bluff.
You got my sweaters, my hat... I can't find my cat!
The hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff.

Little does he know that my dad has the influence to get him fired from his job. Oh snap, boy.

There's a new kid in town.

2008-10-04T23:04:00.000-06:00

I moved to a new city.

Well, it's not a city. And I should say that I moved here about five months ago. In any case, I'm having a hard time getting used to the new digs. It's the fourth time I've been "the new kid" (though my status as a "kid" may be debatable), and I guess I'll never ace being super comfortable right away... or even half a year later. There are a few things that are difficult for me here. Allow me to elaborate:

Number One: Move over, nerds; there's a new loser living in her parents' basement.
That's right; I am the newest member of the Free-Loading Offspring Society. I've officially run out of trust fund money from my rich step-grandfather. As such, I've lost my status as an intellectual, aspiring Philosophy and Studio Arts double major at the most prestigious liberal arts college in the nation and have become (gasp!) a drop out. I've done the math and faced the facts. I'm shit broke. My bank account was in the four-figure range for the first time in months a few days ago, and that lasted a total of 13 hours. And it only lasted that long because it took me 11 hours to figure out that my paycheck was direct deposit and would not be arriving in my mailbox (much to my excitement... I don't trust my neighbors... ask me about that later). So, now it's 9-5 and dinners with Mom and Dad every night for this working girl. Things could be worse. At least I'm not lurking around dumpsters for food anymore.

Number Two: It's hard to be a socialite when you're not allowed into bars.
Having lived on a private college campus for two years, I started to take for granted certain liberties. Like being able to drink a bottle of wine with my roommate even though we were underage. Or keeping beer in our dorm room mini-fridge. Or hosting a party in the basement of the school's music venue and doing shots of Jack Daniel's with Blizten Trapper after their amazing gig. Once I returned to the real world, I soon realized that alcohol is NOT so readily available to a 20 year old in Utah. Sure, my parents don't care if I have a drink or two with them- as long as I'm not planning on going anywhere for a good 10 hours afterwards. Beyond wanting a drink after a long day (or a long night...), there is no way I can get into any bar without a good fake ID. Now, I've never been one to blatantly break laws without facing the consequences and, in most cases, I'm pretty lazy. I have no fake ID. To make matters worse, my Washington driver's license is vertical, so I can't even pretend to be of age. I'll admit it, I went to the Star Bar on Main Street to play Rock Band with Davey Madness a few times, but Danny the bartender caught on pretty quick that I'm not as old as all my friends. It's hard to find a social scene outside of the nightlife, and all of my friends are between the ages of 25 and 32. They can't even remember what it's like to be carded at a bar. The age gap is also particularly embarrassing when I have to give them cash to buy the night's beers before going into the store and then wait for them outside in the car.

Number Three: The friends I do make are either insane or move away. Or both.
Evidence: the night my parents were out of town and I had a party (refer once again to the awkward age gap between me and my friends). After we are all sufficiently, no, excessively drunk off the alcohol that I had to have someone else buy with my money, most of us pass out for the night. Somehow, while I am asleep downstairs, Steve manages to get handcuffed, tasered, and arrested. In my driveway. Don't ask me, I was only passed out in my bed. So clearly, my best friend in the area (we met last summer working at Park City Mountain Resort together) is a little out of control. He and his girlfriend move to Colorado to be the next members of the Middle-Aged and Living With Mommy Club (a subgroup of the Free-Loading Offspring Society). The two guys who stuck it out with me to find the post-it telling of how Steve was arrested were soon to become close friends, if only for the good times drinking and smoking. Oh, we were inseparable as long as there was alcohol or drugs around. But alas, they have moved on as well, funnily enough to join me in the FLOS: Damon with his Dad in Tennessee, and Stevie J with his Mom and Pop down in Cedar City. I don't know if I'll ever see or talk to them again. I'm not kidding; they didn't even say goodbye after I cleaned their kitchen just hours before their landlord came to check the apartment. Do you even understand how nasty the kitchen of two males in their late twenties can be??

Number Four: I live in Utah. Period.
I love the mountains. I love how I can drive a few minutes (or even just walk) and be at a hiking trail or, in the winter, the slopes. But dear lord, why did the Mormons have to get here first? I try my hardest not to be religiously prejudiced, but let's face it, whenever one denomination gets together en masse in one area, it's just fanatical. The laws here are bizarre, mostly due to the fact that it's all a bunch of old, white Latter-Day Saints in the state congress. Everything is closed on Sundays. Liquor laws are the strictest of anywhere in the nation (not that I care since I'm underage and *such* a model citizen). The local NBC syndicate doesn't even air Saturday Night Live. Everyone is white. Having just moved here from Philadelphia, this last fact particularly scares me. There are plenty of latinos, sure, but they aren't really people here... they're just the help; a necessary evil to keep the economy and booming real estate market thriving. I live in probably the least Mormon area, though, which is good. I think...

Number Five: Forgive me, Park City elite. I am but riff-raff.
Honestly, how many overpriced art galleries does one town need? This once-small mining town is now one of the places for a multi-million dollar second home. Think Vale, Tahoe, and... Park City, Utah. Home of the Sundance Film Festival and some of the most Important People in the world. Everything must be upscale. We recycle. We hate Wal-Mart (even though we have one). We made sure the new bowling alley is not a bowling alley but a bowling club, complete with dance floor and banquet room. I'm not sure how many lanes it will have, but I bet no more than 10. Because really, who goes to a bowling alley to bowl? We don't let our children ride the school bus or, heaven forbid, the city bus (which is FREE). We pick our children up and cause traffic jams on the two roads that connect one end of town to the other. We are entitled. *sigh* There's really just no way I can ever be a real member of this mentality. Cue my struggle to carve out a place for myself as a part of this nutso community.

Moving to a new place is tough. I thought it was rough when I was in eighth grade... and I thought it was even tougher when I was a junior in high school. Turns out that even though kids can be pretty mean, life can throw shit at you at any age. Having a sense of humor is really starting to help.
Especially when I found myself doing a jigsaw puzzle by myself last Friday night.