Don't talk to strangers and if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all

I am kind of aggressive sometimes. For all of my talk about love and compassion, I can sometimes be very rude to strangers. I imagine that I have been provoked; it usually occurs when I feel like they haven't learned how to be decent on their own and should have me point their lack of manners or thoughtfulness out to them. This bad habit of mine may be a result of having had to bite my tongue for years working customer service jobs.

I was just reading at the coffee shop when I overheard a fussy, shrill sounding middle aged woman complaining to a man and a woman playing chess that they had stolen her table. "That's why I put the newspaper down," she explained, sounding supremely annoyed and put out. The people apologized, but (I'm guessing due to the woman's overly suffering and not polite attitude) didn't move immediately, offering the woman a chair as they continued their game. The woman hovered for a moment, glaring at everyone, and then came over to my table, asking if it was okay if she sat down. "Sure," I replied, my lovely quiet moment destroyed by her stress and impatience that had nothing to do with me. "That is just so rude." she muttered. Clearly, this woman was going to continue to be an unpleasant visitor at my table, so I said, "you know what, I'm going to go. You can have my table." Then, as I was making a move to leave, I noticed that there was an empty table across the patio. I pointed it out to her. "Well, if you're going to leave..." she said messing with settling her things, not even looking at me, concerned with securing her table, the table that she was entitled to, no matter if she made other people uncomfortable in their own private moments in the process. And I'm sorry, she put a newspaper down? It's a totally understandable mistake those people made. People discard newspapers at coffee shops all the time. Buck up and get over it lady. "Actually," I said, "I don't want to move." "What?" she said, "I thought you just said you were going to leave." "I just didn't want to sit next to you. You don't seem like a very nice person." She was, understandably, taken aback. "What?" "I don't want to talk to you," I replied. "You're strange," she said. And that was pretty nice of her, because she could have said a lot worse.

Then after trying to read for a few minutes, I got up and left anyway, because my feathers were ruffled and I was unable to concentrate. So... I can be a very nice person. And then moments like this happen. I'm probably getting my period.

today is my brother's 29th birthday. happy birthday bro!

My senses were assaulted by two minorly horrifying incidents today. 1.)A lady came into my work wearing what were clearly underpants (not a swimsuit guys. I understand you don't want to seem pervy, but a sports bra and boy short undies with visible lower-butt round is more appropriate for a gym locker room). I relished in giggling at the absurdity of her choices. 2.) after my otherwise sleepy work shift and an attempt at standing awkwardly at a coworker's birthday party-- it's so nice to be invited even if I'm a socially retarded freak (is retarded super offensive in this context? If so, apologies. I have the best of intentions)-- I got on the train, thinking, this ginger sitting in from of me looks like there is something definitely wrong with him. And it vaguely smells like vomit in the vicinity. Sure enough, the lady who came around to punch my ticket sleuthed it out, the man had puked into something and then threw it on the seat behind him. The woman called for back-up and looked disgusted. I didn't move immediately because more than being grossed out by the smell, I kind of wanted to see what would happen next. When it was clear that nothing was going to happen, I moved downstairs. The truth is, as much as those things depressed me and made me want to have someone correct those people for acting so out of the bounds of what I find socially acceptable, I also kind of love moments like those. I feel like they are sort of necessary to life.

I'm not sure if it's hormones, or the chemicals in my brain, or the magic that is sunshine, but things have felt on the upswing lately. As my friend Maddy said, I should just enjoy the ride. I have dealt with depression all of my life-- this is where I should say that I need to maybe rethink being so candid on the internet because it has lead to some awkwardness in my real life, but I probably won't-- but these days, I've been feeling like everything is okay. Even the things that aren't.

I credit this to a few things. I wrote something longer and pretty boring (and oh so inspirational) that I erased, because no one cares. But, if I have to pinpoint the main source of calm in my oft troubled brain, I'd have to say: Love and acceptance. I feel like I find it everywhere.
Should be looking at those people mentioned above with love and acceptance, instead of glorying in a potential train wreck? Probably and yes. I always have to wonder if behavior like that comes from supreme confidence and being comfortable just living your life, or from being a mess and just not knowing what to do about it, and maybe in addition to not caring. And I wonder if that's me too. But this feels different than that, because I've been there. With them. The messy people.

Alls I know is, one of the things I would like most is to see and experience all of the different ways that people are capable of living their lives. That's one of the reasons that travel of any sort sounds so stinkin appealing to me. When I was younger I would try to shape the idea of who I would be in future around my idea of how I would decorate my imagined home. What would be the style of my life? I can't think of how to best explain it right now, except I would imagine that the decor of my future house would match the type of person I would have grown up to be: traditional, contemporary, cottage, country French. Now I live in what is practically a closet, and have a bicycle and nothing else worth any money (and the bike was a generous gift that I promised I would give back if I no longer needed it anyway). So, that's the type evidence I have on person I've grown to be thus far.

My fantastic dream is someday I'll collect all of these experiences and mold some sort of grand life philosophy and somehow regurgitate it into a mess of creative expression. But for now, my life itself is the only creative expression; I hope I don't die before I find the discipline to work at honing some talent. But, if I do, that's what happens. I am, however, becoming more disciplined all the time. Right now it's regarding my health. Maybe once I master that I can move onto acquiring some skills and achievements. That's my hope anyhow. Maybe that's also a part of why I've been feeling so good. Good night friends!

I had a pretty good day today. I rode my bike about 30 miles. Went to yoga. Hung out with some of my homies... Indeed, the love of my good friends was the best thing that I experienced today. I ate some yummy food, I feel pretty good about myself that I've been taking care of myself physically and trying to to be a healthy happy lady... I need mac and cheese before I can finish this. I'm starving. I was over at Steph and Brit's new place (the inspiration for this post) a moment ago and left thinking, pizza? mac'n'cheese? nothing? omygodimfamished. I didn't get that slice of pizza because the idea of going to another location and waiting even for a second to get food seemed unappealing, even as it was just around the corner and much faster than biking home and preparing this unhealthy late night meal.

Mac'n'cheese, mac'n'cheese... I so desire you my delightful mac'n'cheese. There is this delicious looking chard and gouda/emmental recipe for mac'n'cheese that I saw in Saveur that I want to try... is my water boiling yet?

My instant mac'n'cheese is done and I'm not sure that's so great for the purposes of finishing writing this, because I no longer have such a sense of urgency about anything. Mmmmm so tasty.

So, I was at Steph and Brit's new apartment (which is sweet! actually just part of a house that has been subdivided into four sections. it has high ceilings and a great front porch), and I was saying, "did you hear that Kelly just had her baby?" and I had one of those moments where I was like... holy moly. Here I am, in the second half of my twenties, on Britney's 28th birthday, standing in the living room of two ladies that I've known since elementary and middle school. Two women with whom I spent countless hours of my youth, doing those teenage girl best friend rituals that I feel silly mentioning, because I guess as young women we still talk about boys and I really wouldn't mind a good sleepover, but it seems unnecessary since we have no curfews and our own apartments that we pay rent and utilities on.

And we're talking about Kelly having her baby. Kelly, who lived down the street from me since we moved into the neighborhood when I was nine or ten, who married her best friend's older brother, Risa's brother Bryant, children in the family that happened to live next door to us.

And I'm going to my brother's childhood best friend's wedding this summer. And Eli got married last year...

When I went to college I kind of lost contact with my friends that I grew up with. Not totally, but a little. Well, it may have been sooner than that. Maybe when I started having boyfriends I was a little more m.i.a than I should have been. We were just doing different things, or I made myself unavailable, or I'm not sure exactly what was up. I often try to force change because I want life to be exciting and feel in control of my own destiny, blah blah blah... so, I wasn't hanging out. that's all I can say. maybe I was a flake. maybe they didn't notice.

Anyway...I started this blog when my friend Meg was moving to Germany. I have met many amazing people in the past five years and I am always, always whining that people are constantly moving away, that my friends just cycle and change and I'm tired of doing it. And here I am reminded that that may be true, but that's not the end of the story. People leave, but I don't have to stop loving them. AND! some people stay. and even if I don't see them often, I get to hear about the important moments, and sometimes I even get to be there.

And that's so great. Because that's what this life is all about. The end.

p.s. I need to be better at making sure that these people know how much I care about them.

Nauseous Autodidact Seeks Neurotic Cat for Cuddles (optional) and Fancy Free Adventures (also optional)

I have my days off dialed in. Dialed in! What does that mean exactly? Does that mean they're scheduled so that I can count on them? Because that's not what I mean. I mean that I have mastered the art of leisure, of maximizing one's enjoyment of little time and little to do. My plans for today? Well, I started off with a chocolate croissant from a french patisserie-- which to read the reviews on yelp, you would imagine that it would have a little more ambiance, but despite the fantastic tasting pain au chocolat and other such goodies, I would doubt that any of those reviewers have actually been to Paris, nor would they confuse the cold cafeteria style seating with a view of the motley crowd hanging out by the light rail on K Street with a quaint cafe overlooking the Seine. I've been eating quite a few chocolate croissants in the past month (lucky girl), and I have to say that I am comforted by the fact that I believe they bake all of their treats in house, as this croissant is a little more dense than others around town and otherwise I'd worry that they snuck something grosser than the copious amounts of butter and flour that I expected.

So, I've had my treat and my coffee and am looking forward to the three yoga classes I'm planning to attend today. 1.) I'm not in good shape. Yoga and bicycling are the only forms of exercise that don't feel like exercise to me, so of course I love them and try to do those activities as often as possible 2.)a lady (me) cannot enjoy food and be as neurotic and sad about my physical appearance as I am sometimes and not at least try to counterattack my constant indulgence in one of my great loves.

Additionally, I've decided to put myself on independent study. this happens every few months, as my bookshelf mocks my lack of discipline. Actually only recently has my bookshelf had anything to say about the matter, as I've finally, finally unpacked the cardboard boxes of my crap in my room. I was finding pay stubs from 2009, old drawings that one of my college roommates had put up on our refrigerator.. so, I got a bookcase (I really should have gotten two) and all of my books, most from college, are just staring me down, calling me out, what a fakery fake intellectual I am. And then my brain explodes.

We watched The Battle of Algiers last night. It was good. Well, I fell asleep during part of it, but it was a neat movie. The part where the Algerian ladies plant the bombs and kill French civilians was pretty interesting. At the same time that the viewer is feeling pretty sympathetic to the Algerians, to see a bunch of young French people killed while they're dancing is pretty jarring. Then again you did see some guys leaving a dinner party and casually planting a bomb in an Arab neighborhood in a previous scene.

Gah, my stomach! I've been nauseous and getting headaches the past couple of days. Not pregnant. Just sayin. I think I've been getting whatever's nasty that's been going around. Or it's the pot of coffee, expired food, and sugar I consume on an daily basis. example: yesterday in the break room at work (which accounts for the expired food, we get staffed product to snack on that is unsellable), "Agh, I've been so nauseous... should I have another piece of bread?" (slathered with past date cream cheese and eaten with old tomato soup). A coworker is eating a burrito and has a mini-handful of jalapenos that he's removed, as he is not a fan. "You don't like jalapenos? Sure, I'd love them!" and proceed to stuff all of the discarded peppers into my mouth at once. See the disconnect?

I woke up this morning dreaming of Paris, and Munich, and Seattle, and New York, which are my go-to fantasy places when I think about running away from home. In my dreams I'm like Ethelyne Tenenbaum of the Royal Tenenbaums, only rather than being celibate and scheduling my gifted children up for tennis and Italian, I'm the one getting culture in New York in the 1970's, sans babies. So, I' making assignments, I'm going to be disciplined... or I'm going to fart around on the computer for an hour... whatever. the day is young and so am I! (a variation on my favorite, less used expression, "the night is young and so are we!" since I actually like going to bed at a reasonable time and have stopped being a person who enjoys parties or fun:)

Time for toast! I love toast. Have a good day everyone <3

I used to

Gaugain is a lousy bum!

I've noticed (as you may have as well) that some of those celebrated people with creative temperaments are kind of selfish jerks. Yeah, you've gone down in history Gauguin, but what did your kids think of you? I can tell you exactly: they didn't give a hoot about your art. And what was more important? This is why I like movies like Its a Wonderful Life and the hokey ending of Mr. Holland's Opus. And why I appreciate all of the mamas and papas who decide to do the things that aren't always fun, because it stops being all about them (and a reason I'm terrified of having the babies before I'm okay with acting like a responsible adult full-time myself). That's what it takes to age gracefully I suspect, learning how to take care of yourself in all necessary ways without making it all about you. Here's something nice though, from a lady who knows next to nothing about art: Henri Matisse discovered his love for painting while he was convalescing from appendicitis... you know what this means? I'm maybe one terrible head cold away from discovering that I'm a secret genius.

Perhaps biology is working it's voodoo magic more than I realize, as lately I've been thinking way more about kids and families than ever... without planning to have those things soon, or ever if the right circumstances don't present themselves. Maybe it has something to do with my own mom having us when she was around my age, a fact which blows my mind whenever I contemplate my own youth and confusion and how inept I would be if I had three small children in my care-- not only in my care, but completely responsible for their well-being on all fronts. Geez.

Sometimes I feel really trapped by life, but maybe I'm just settling in. There is no secret door that will open to my future. I can leave at any time. However, I do worry that the weeks do turn into months and years and eventually you're here, and you thought you'd be there... but best laid plans go to pot sometimes anyway. You have kids, you buy a house, eventually you get divorced or someone dies. But! There is time between those things, and that's what I need to remember. Not to miss it by waiting for something significant to unfold or some big answer to present itself. Because I doubt that's going to happen. This is it. That's the answer.

People go in for these grand theories and then somehow try to find a way to explain the exceptions. How about this: life is the exceptions. I like romantic movies because they are all about the grand theory of life. One day fate just presents itself to the characters; it had been lurking nearby all along. It's nice. I sometimes feel like I'm waiting for my fate to jump out from behind the refrigerator and scare the crap out of me, before we both start laughing at that expression on my face the moment it happened. But anyway, in the meantime, I think I'm supposed to do something to jump start this destiny of mine. Here I am reminded of the proverb, "trust in God, but tie your camel."

Am I a broken record or what?

Also, the today I saw a magazine advertisement that contrasted a flip-flop and a car with the idea that these two items were "both invented with change in mind". man, were these guys just phoning it in, or what? maybe if I had read further it would have elaborated on how the two items, though different, were similar in their relaxed attitude and non-traditional functionality. Boo. Thumbs down. Uninspired. Okay, I'm done.

Clearing my mind before bed

Tonight is one of those nights where it's hard for me to lull myself to bed, even though I hate staying up so late, knowing that if I stay up until 2 am tonight, I'll be waking up for work in a day at 3 am.

I washed all of the dishes from the dinner that I made for my guests tonight. Most of the dishes I washed by hand; the dishwasher was full, and I think that dishwashers and garbage disposals are a scam anyhow (you have to wash your dishes before packing it, and apparently potato peels will clog the sink anyway) but the amount of dishes were overwhelming, so I did appreciate having a place to tuck them in for the night. I nuzzled my cat and wished for a moment that she was as docile as a teddy bear so I could take her up to bed, appreciating her tiny snores, aware that if I stirred her much more she'd transform into a haughty yet clumsy wannabe-vicious little lion. She'd get annoyed. We live in peace, so I try not to do that. I have hope that when I wake up she'll be napping in my doorway like she was this morning. She gives me clues that she likes having me around: sometimes waiting outside of the bathroom door as I shower, hanging out in the kitchen a while as I cook. She's great. Sometimes reminds me of a teenager, mortified that she has to interact with me, but it makes those sweet moments all the better. Plus if she always wanted to hang out I'd feel like a jerk for being gone so much.

She makes me happy when I'm bummed. Best decision ever bringing her home and one I almost didn't. I was supposed to be shopping with Nick for supplies for the kitten he was getting later that month, and I saw her waiting to be adopted and instantly named her. It was an impulse. I'm a bit of a commitment-phobe, so I probably wouldn't have planned for her otherwise.

Anyway, tonight I went upstairs and (as I often do) sat on the sink and worked my clogged pores, looking for the many imperfections in my skin and trying to temporarily fix problems, poking and squeezing, no doubt worsening the issues for tomorrow.

I thought about finishing the film noir that I started the other day (what is it about watching old movies that makes me feel like I'm up on something? it doesn't take any special skill, but listen to me mention the term "film noir" in casual conversation and feel free to-- mistakenly-- assume I have a deeper knowledge of film and art in general), but I'm too much of a scardey cat to deal with that level of intrigue before bed. Besides, I've been having some unpleasant dreams lately, so I'd better keep a lid on it.I'm not sure if the dreams are mostly unpleasant in retrospect, as I feel that my conscious mind has more opinions and prejudices than my dream-observer mind.

Well, I guess I'm finally tired and ready to go to bed. I wonder if when I'm an old woman if I'll care if anyone finds me pretty. Maybe it'll be really liberating. I hope so, rather than it feeling like a loss. Instead of being depressed about feeling like I'll never be the ideal of womanly physical beautiful (I'm not the most or the least anything, so who knows why not being the most beautiful is something I fixate on), it'll become a non-issue. at least I'm a pretty normal looking lady, so I don't think that aging will be such a terrible blow. I'm not used to getting by on my looks already is what I mean. I look alright. People in general don' find my personality objectionable either. These things are positive.

That's all she wrote: my cat and my vanity. Pretty stoked about hitting the hay. Goodnight.

If the world is an overwhelming place in which I inhabit a little calm boring corner of, I can be grateful of that.

thoughts of the morning:1.) this girl who used to have regular dreams involving apocalypse, rejection, and violence, woke up from a lovely time of visiting with friends and family (my cousin Jenn even asked if anyone wanted to play parcheesi. I thought, "how does one play parcheesi?") 2.)Television dreams my dreams for me and I'm not sure that's a good thing 3.) I went to bed with intention about what I still want to do in life (not what I want out of life, cause that's easy= happiness) and a clear idea of what, if not a concrete plan of how to make those things happen, a clear idea of what I want to avoid doing n order to make those things more likely happen 4.) Change (capital C) is happening in ways we can and cannot control. We need to/should (normative versus positive lecture in college political science class. was positive the other word?) work to change the things that we can. history tells me that scary things happen in times of change 5.) I'm glad that some of the things I like are not prohibited in a jail cell: reading and yoga, although I'd miss sunlight. however, if I ended up in a jail cell I'm not sure that times would be such that that would be enough or that they would allow me to do those things 6.) I am soft. Yesterday I bought yet another jar of $6 hazelnut spread and multiple cups of coffee. My guilt sends me to the $6 jar, but my reason should tell me otherwise 7.) It's all over. It's too late. But I'm still here. My cat is grooming herself in my doorway, I'm lying in bed, coffee will be ready soon. Shoot, I still have to pour the water into the french press. 8.) log out of facebook. pick up that real book. even if you are accomplishing nothing, maybe you will at least stave off alzheimers in your old age. 9.) who was alzheimer? wikipedia is down today 10.) I should call my grandmother. and I should write my congressperson. how is it that I am so ignorant and inarticulate? it's my own fault. If I had a month to shut myself in my room and study... 11.) I want to move 700 miles away, away from all distractions and obligations 12.) still haven't made that coffee yet

That is my proof positive that thinking constantly does not indicate intelligence. The other day at work I realized I thought of the character Miranda from the television show "sex and the city" four separate times. I don't have any affinity towards her or Cynthia Nixon. But she kept popping into my consciousness. What are the things I still want to do in life? Two of the three things I articulated to myself last night I can accomplish right here, even right here in my bed if I had the tools. If I focused those racing thoughts and stopped idly thinking about "sex and the city" so much. I'm banking on the fact that the women in my family typically live long lives and that I'm a late bloomer. However, I have also observed that those same women who are blessed with health have also had their dreams curtailed or shifted by life, so I guess it's especially nice that they were granted the time to wrap their heads around those facts and make peace with them (my nana says, "isn't it a shame we had to be poor, but so good looking").

My family is very interesting to me. It'd make a good story that I will never write. I'm sure most peoples families are interesting. It's the story of people after all. Alls I'm saying is, we got plot. Which is good, because from my perspective as a child, I'm missing some of the dialog. The tip of the iceberg, which author said that? Anyway, i forget most everything that happened, and most of the things I'm told, my brain as most people's just clings onto the sensational bits.

I'm going to make that coffee now. I hope the water's still hot enough.

Meet Virginia or I'll Never Get it Right

This will end with an explanation of how I nearly caught caused (well, started) a kitchen fire with the microwave and ruined a perfectly good pair of underwear and our trash basket. You can guess. It's going to be pretty anticlimactic, as I already giggled about it all day the day it happened and have pretty much lost the steam to tell it. But here goes:

I met my friend for coffee yesterday and he looked down at my feet and remarked that the combination of my flip flops and bike clips reminded him "of that Train song." Kind of an embarrassing reference for him to make, but I did get it, howling, "she only drinks coffee at midnight... but I drink coffee ALL DAY!" Nerds. Anyway, I don't get it. I never have. It's not a chosen aloofness, a rejection of the norms of style and behavior, I just genuinely can't function in that way. Those girls that you see shivering outside of the bar in December in their tiny clothes-- I would totally be them. I didn't have a moment ever where I looked at hot chicks and said, "well, that looks stupid," it's just so unnatural and foreign to me that I can't even conceive of operating my life like that.

When I was younger, my mom bought us (my siblings and me) a giant trampoline for Christmas one year. My parent's were not wealthy, but Christmas was always a big holiday for us.

So, before I tell you about the beautiful porcelain doll that my grandmother gave me one year (she lost her eyelash, and I was just so upset), let me just wrap up my pleasant trip down memory lane and say that I rarely jumped on that giant trampoline. I was too self conscious to jump on the trampoline. The neighbors could see me, people walking down the street could see me. I didn't want anyone to see me jumping and think I looked stupid.

I'm not sure why that happened. I remember changing schools in 5th grade and going from being a happy little weirdo to being very shy and self conscious. I remember having a clear thought that I needed to change who I had been. I was 10 years old! Anyway, I don't know anything about child psychology, but I'm sure that kind of thing happens. Well, I hope it does. So I spent about a decade being painfully embarrassed at just existing (my description of adolescence) and afraid to do fun, harmless things like jumping on trampolines in my own back yard.

Well now, I often feel like I could very easily be the butt of a joke, but rather than it causing me to shut down I try to embrace it. Or I'm an attention whore. I do like it when people like me, so of course if this story caused people to actively dislike me rather than find me slightly ridiculous I might not share it:

I was getting ready for work. I had not had the time to do laundry for about a week. Even though I suspect there was clean underwear somewhere in the giant heap of clean laundry that permanently rests at the foot of my mattress, I couldn't find any. So I decided to hand wash some and microwave it dry. I totally have microwaved my clothes before (totally. this is totally normal), when I worked at a coffee shop and I didn't realize my work shirt wasn't clean before my shift. So I took the damp underwear, wrapped it in a paper towel (to be considerate of my housemates) and microwaved it for about a minute. They were still damp, so I put the underwear back in the microwave and unthinkingly went upstairs. When I came back downstairs, it was clear that my underwear were ruined. The paper towels looked singed and brown. So I tossed the underwear in the (empty)trash basket and went to brush my teeth. I came back into the kitchen to find smoke coming up from under the sink. The downstairs smelled like burning plastic. My housemates were still asleep, so I had to alert them of the fact that I nearly started a kitchen fire them via text message as I rode the train to work.

I texted my mom what happened and she replied, "you're just like your grandmother!" alluding to the time that my maternal grandmother almost burned down their apartment by putting her girdle in the oven. I told Ish and he called it "some crackhead-ass shit" and I reminded him that my nana had made a similar mistake some thirty years ago, and he maintained that "some crackhead-ass shit" runs in my family.

And that's the story. I really do fear the day when I am no longer young. I suspect that this sort of behavior doesn't age well.

I'm all grown up

I never want to be a teenager again. Never ever ever. So that's one of the things that I guess I can be grateful about getting older for, unless reincarnation does in fact exist and I am just marching unknowingly to an an unlimited future of teen lives. I'm not sure if that's how reincarnation works, and I realize that the likelihood of my continually experiencing the same bored, privileged, suburban teenage life over and over again is very small... I'm just saying that now that I have lived to be 26, I feel confident that I will make it into old age, unless illness or other malicious forces (not my hand) intervene.

One of the major downers that I recall about being a teenager is the feeling that nobody liked me, except maybe my grandmother (and what was her problem) and a few friends. Accompanying this was loneliness and lack of self worth. I dealt with these feelings in different ways as life progressed: as a kid I read books constantly, when I was a little older it was hours of television, and when I was still a little older I discovered the joys of alcohol. Luckily I didn't become a real drinker until I turned 21, but I got into enough trouble with my parents as a teenager involving alcohol that the level at which I consumed it then was about as damaging to my life as it was when I lived away from home and was legally able to buy it.

When I was a kid I had a huge appetite and a fast metabolism. Puberty was a crushing blow. I gained 20 pounds in less than a year. However, I could not conceive of changing my diet and was accustomed to eating every meal until I felt physically sick or uncomfortable. I remember one day in high school someone brought in donuts for the class. Someone else brought in apples. The really pretty blond girls (who looked like they were 30 rather than 16), ate the apples while I miserably enjoyed the immediate gratification of my donut (I probably ate two).

At some point when I was a teenager, I got the idea that a good way to lose some weight would be continue eating all of the huge servings of food that I was accustomed to for every meal and not exercising, and to somehow force all of those excess calories out of my body. I'm sure had I been another type of person I would have tried starving myself, but that was not the type of quick fix solution I was into. I once wrapped packing tape around my belly as a type of a corset to sleep with, which goes to show you the level of planning and common sense I was employing in my quest. Not only was the packing tape (obviously) ineffective, it was pretty painful to take off.

So for some years I was bulimic. I have to say that it's pretty convenient that this nice medical term exists that veils the inherently disgusting nature of making yourself vomit and abusing laxatives. Add to this that being an incredibly insecure, unhappy person didn't make me super nice to others. My first few boyfriends experienced pretty insane levels of jealousy and anger from me. I once threw an entire smoothie into my ex boyfriend's car.

So, one of the best things that ever happened to me was transferring to college, moving into an apartment with people who became really good friends, and getting a job at a co-op. At school intelligence was really valued, which was not something I recognized much as a teenager. And at work all sorts of people were liked and accepted, and no one was rewarded for being a jerk. I made friends and stopped watching so much t.v. I stopped worrying as much about what I looked like. I gained weight, cut off my hair and was really, really happy. For a few years I did have crazy anxiety about my teeth, sure I was going to lose all of them after mistreating my mouth so much, but eventually I went to a dentist and as far as I know dentures are not in the cards-- yet.

Fast forward a few years later and I'm still ironing out some kinks. I take from those experiences some valuable lessons, and a plan for what I will try to impart to my daughter, if I ever have one. Life is good, I'm okay, and I'm ready for what's coming. Life can be hard enough without being on your own side. Teedle-y-dee, off to work I go!

Napping through the Revolution

I have a cold. This is not at all surprising to me, although I was trying to wish it away and kill it with spicy food (sometimes effective methods) yesterday; the mere four hours of sleep I got last night certainly did not help.

Since my last post, I was rehired at the grocery store that I worked at before the job that I will be losing (sooner rather than later now, though they still haven't given us a date). I've been going to both most days, working 5 am to 5 pm, leaving home by 4 a.m. to catch the train. While I actually prefer the early shift, I had a feeling that not having the ability to nap would catch up with me, as going to sleep before 10:00 p.m. is impossible (and before 11 is a challenge), even if I intend to be up by 3:20 at the latest. Waking up this early I set the maximum five alarms on my cell phone-- as a coworker once said, my body tricks me into getting more than I am alloted of that sweet, sweet sleep.

So here I am on a Saturday night, wearing an XXL "Stick it to the Man!" co-op shirt that I got for free from my work one of the two other times they hired me (continuous employment! gratitude!) borrowed pajama pants, and my old friend blue bathrobe, who hasn't made an appearance since last March. I am missing a potluck and music at my favorite coffee shop/food hang out place. I don't even care. I feel so tired and run down, I'm excited to maybe watch a movie (something of the sweet and sappy variety, perhaps starring Meg Ryan) and make some citrus ginger juice with my new juicer before going to sleep at a reasonable hour and waking up feeling refreshed and 100% better tomorrow morning (it's called the power of positive thinking;)

The best part of my work day today was feeling like a know-it-all when I was alone in the walk-in, putting away pallets. Yes, I enjoyed standing in a refrigerator as I was getting sick, stacking boxes that weigh 20-50 lbs on average. 1.)It makes me feel cool and macho and 2.)Even though I am a gross, disgusting, embarrassing secret slob (to borrow a phrase from Catcher in the Rye. How hip! I barely remember that book. I liked Nine Stories, but gave my copy away and never finished Franny and Zooey although of that I have two copies), even though I am a gross, disgusting, embarrassing secret slob, I do enjoy the feeling at work that everything is in its right place, and also rearranging the boxes to fit something where there was previously no space for it. Look at the apple section! What was previously a haphazard mess is now neat stacks of Spitzenbergs, Galas, Fujis, Honeycrisps, etc, etc, sorted by dated oldest received on top, partial boxes put out or on the cart.

The last time I worked at this store unloading pallets drove me crazy. Ice cold water drips from boxes down onto your hair and into your shirt, boxes are heavy and cumbersome and hard to maneuver in the little space available after the walk-in is crammed with multiple pallets and carts of product. Coworkers forget to move a poorly placed box, or just do something of questionable judgment, like sticking a heavy citrus box on top of delicate grapes. I hated setting up the olive bar as well; the smell of that much brine at 5 am made me swear I never wanted to look at anything from the olive bar again, let alone eat it.

However, months have passed and I am over it. I actually asked my coworker if he wanted me to do the olive bar this morning. Feeling competent is nice, although I'm self concious that I might not be moving fast enough.

As for my other job, I go in, shuffle papers, make copies, respond to emails, and feel not very useful to my boss. I'm just not there for enough time in the afternoons, but I can't commit any more time than I already am. Luckily, some of the people in my office have found jobs/have finally gotten interviews, so there is less of a doomsday feel around the water cooler (actually, the water cooler is in an empty cubicle that no one hangs out in, last occupied by the student intern that had the unfortunate learning experience of watching the agency implode this summer).

So, this is life right now. Work. Juicers. A slight cold. I'd better not get cold sore, or to use a less disgusting phrase, though not as accurate, sun blister (less disgusting to me. Don't even use the "h" word). Those are the worst. I already feel pretty haggard, these past two and a half weeks. I think I may have gotten less than a handful of solid nights of sleep in that time. However, as the protests around the country will tell you, I am one of the lucky ones I guess. No unemployment. I'm eligible for awesome benefits after a few months. I'm really enjoying working a physical job and working with my friends again. It's an alright place to land. I just gotta get over this dang cold!

The Titanic

There is only so much television that I can watch before I feel depressed. Granted, I love t.v. but spending a perfectly good evening watching more than two hours watching television makes me feel pretty crazy. that isn't to say it isn't done, but I'd prefer otherwise.

I've been lacking in imagination, and have had been lazy with my brain. I'm housesitting for my boss- who I like very much, however I worry a lot about her continuing to or consistently liking me. She seems to. This is nice. of me. right? She's a cool lady.

My job (secret), I'm not crazy about. The people are wonderful and I'm getting laid off soon anyhow. But it's been stifling, man. Going to that office everyday, everyone knowing that they're losing their jobs (the agency is closing). However, everyone else is in an employee union and know they know when they're losing their jobs. Not me. I'm an independent contractor. And my program isn't defunded. It's just moving somewhere at sometime. Has anyone told us when? No. Is there an answer to when I will lose my job? Probably in a month or two. Am I still moving ahead like I'm not on a sinking ship? Yes, indeedily do.
*To be fair, everyone else is also fully invested, have careers and morgatages and kids and car payments. Not me.

And, despite not liking my job too too much, the uncertainty is getting to me. And I might not qualify for unemployment if I can't find a job, which never occured to me, because I've never been unemployed before without it being my choice and in such a crappy economy. And I think I accidentally downloaded a virus onto my personal computer the other day. From Netflix. Not porn. Which is irrelevant, but I'm on a roll here.

I don't love my job (something I hope no one at my work realizes), but I worry about everything, all the time, so this is stressful. I should focus on the definites. So I don't know when, but I know I will. The bigger picture, so to speak. Like a break up, or a good friend moving away. Loss is inevitable. Like death. I am calm, I am accepting. I'm still getting a paycheck. You see, these things called dollar bills don't come easily. They're important. If I can just secure them and somehow keep them... not worry about such frivolities as healthy expensive food and shelter. And fun. I like to have fun.

The best things in life are free, like love, or a good attitude. However, call me bourgeousie, I think that money definitely helps. And my employer is the only entity that gives it to me. So. There's that.

You can stay, but the world will change around you

Hi again. I've been having a great summer. Summer really loses some of its luster when you leave school completely; you have to go to work everyday, it just gets hotter outside. However, it has been my experience these past few years that summer still has some of that same old magic, even as life slips into a new routine (one that doesn't involve playing soccer and sardines in the street. "Car!... game on."). Summer nights, sweaty bike rides, getting a little smelly, feeling strangely natural with your skin constantly moist from lack of air conditioning. I love it. I generally say that autumn and early winter are my favorite seasons, but that may be something I just tell myself before seasonal affective disorder sets in and my body starts screaming for some sushine.

Anywho, I've had a good run of weekends. The past couple months, every weekend has been so fun. I'm not sure when it will end. It doesn't have to end, but the likelihood that things will continue uninterrupted as they are is definitely zero. This realization is nothing new on my part. It's the same old worry; worring about nothing, about things that haven't yet happened that I have no control over. However, what is new, is the idea that I don't want to be in flux today. This is probably a good sign, I must be somewhat content. I was just sitting in my backyard, with my cat, and I thought, "what if I just stayed here for a while?" Well, I'll tell you what: I'm losing my job. (It'll be okay.) Our beloved family dog was recently put down. Two of my housemates are getting married (to each other!!! exciting!). Friends are moving to other cities (but they're here now...!). And so on. It's life.

I don't think that I do actually just want to sit here. However, life has a way of setting a pace that I cannot readily adjust to. And that's fine. I am beginning (on a teensy small scale)accept the impermanence of everything and that it's all okay. Even if it makes me unhappy sometimes. It also makes me happy sometimes. That job that I had that I hated when I was twenty years old, sure glad that was not permanent. Or heartbreak, or disappointment, or yada yada.

These weekends can't last forever, my housemates will eventually move away, people that I'm accostomed to enjoying on a semi-regular basis will get jobs in other cities, sometimes far away, people will get married, have babies, people will die. People will die? Is that what I just said? Again? Hey, I'm not the decider here.

I always remind people (and myself) of that. Not intentionally. What a bummer. I had coffee with my mom earlier today and she mentioned that it was going to be my nana's 70th class reunion. My reaction was that I dread the day when I have to get used to most of my friends and family beginning to pass away. At that age they begin to consolidate the graduating classes because they keep shrinking.

Anyway, I'm very lucky. You have to have something to be afraid of losing it. And I'd been kicking rocks for awhile. So in the words of al green,

"Don't look so sad I know its over
But life goes on and this world keeps on turning
Let's just be glad we have this time to spend together
There is no need to watch the bridges that were burning"

I'm so emo. That's still a thing, right? Another thing, I don't know how to work apps, I don't know Justin Bieber, google+ frightens and confuses me. I'm just a 20th century girl, trapped in a 21st century world. grow. change. vinyasa. hot tub time machine.

That's what friends are for!

Today I want to talk about the terrible spectre of loneliness. Jokes! I'll get there.

Last night I got to visit with one of my dearest friends, Meg, who moved to Germany this past year. Meg is teaching english and living with her very nice german boyfriend, Matthias. I met Meg in college; through a mutual friend we became housemates when we transfered to university from community college. We eventually worked together, and also had many classes together, as we had the same major (except she was a double major and also studied German). Needless to say we became pretty close and sometimes really, really annoyed each other.

Meg is hilarious, loyal, yada yada yada, super cool and I love her. However, in talking about how awesome she is, I'm going to move on to a more depressing subject, because that's how I roll.

I feel like people often live smaller lives as they get older, sometimes become increasingly isolated... if you are a part of an intentional community like a housing co-op or a church (alas, I'm not religious) this may be less of the case, but as I get older things seem to be super in flux, and while the relationships remain, the physical presence of certain loved ones in my life is less so. Life! Ah well.

I'm very lucky and surrounded by great people most of the time. However, things have changed. I have two friends who live with each other and are besties, and I think longingly of college when I hear that they have matching hats that they wear when they decided to smoke weed and get silly. Now, I would prefer not to smoke, but I would like someone to wear a matching hat with.

Meg and I, as lady best friends sometimes do (maybe fellas as well, but it doesn't seem so to me), had a best friend's inside joke book that we called, "the bible". In it was shared experiences, memories, general silliness. Last night she picked me up at my house, and I was laughing almost immediately. We hung out at her sister's house, and then I decided I was hungry at 10:30 at night, and we went to the store and joked that we were acting like we were high (so much talk about weed. we weren't)because we were giggling and getting too excited about seeing "perfect food bars" on the shelf, and filled our arms with snacky, munchy foods.

You know, I'll say it again, I'm lucky. Throughout my life, I've gotten close to many people over the years, and have had these moments in time where I got to be especially close to a friend. Then things shift, you're still close, but you don't spend all of your time together. I have in the past tried to make boyfriends that person, but in that case there's the special danger of co-dependence and losing yourself in a romantic relationship (and driving the other person crazy/away. overshare?). Probably not always, but I think it takes more practice for some (me). I think that my sister would be down to hang out all the time, and cook and laugh and etc, but we keep living in other states. Bummer.

At this point, I worry that this sounds like a sad, lonely blah blah that is a time and enjoyment suck. I woke up at this morning and walk/ran to the train station (further from Meg's sister's house than I was thinking. sleepiness!) and then walked from the train station to my house. So I had some thinking time. Meg's sister is an attorney in my office and could have given me a ride to work, but I accidentally washed a contact lens down the drain last night/wanted to take a morning constitutional/see my cat. That's right, my cat. I embrace it. I am not, nor will I ever be a sad cat lady. You have to be sad to be a sad cat lady. I may be unmarried forever, but I think that having an animal to care for is good for most people. Levon is a great comfort and joy to me. And when I get the blues... she's great. Anyhow, I have to change for work, but I let me say that I am pretty happy about opportunitities to see my loved ones.

Gah!

I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee

I just went to the most fun yoga class. Let me preface all of this by saying that I am new to yoga. My funny teacher said that I was "like a gps" and "the leaning tower of Pisa". I'm not very good. Two other things that I liked that he said were, "the best reason to smile is no reason at all" and "the simpliest act of love is paying attention". He advised me to tryto become a masseuse, to have maybe may jobs instead of one, and to not get married until I'm at least 30 (he's seen it many times he said, men want to "capture" a woman, and he sees women giving all of themselves over.) He also invited me to his bikram yoga class and offered me thirty free days at the studio.

I am sometimes very lucky. sometimes I am incredibly unlucky. But, as far as random acts of kindness go, I feel like I've been, I don't know, pretty blessed (I don't know how to describe it). I have a nice bicycle because my mom's best friend's husband is an exceptionally nice guy and gave it to me.

Have I told you the story of the man who once gave me a hundred dollars for no reason at all? Maybe. Maybe I've written it before too, but here it comes: I was working at a grocery store as a cashier (this happened a few years ago) and this man that I recognized, but didn't really know came through my line. He gave me a card. at that time, being a young lady college student I sometimes got attention from the male customers. Not wanting to be rude, I accepted the card to look open later. I didn't want him to ask me out. He seemed nice enough, but it was pretty awkward.

So later, I opened the card and was freaked out as I pulled out $20 bills. I called my manager immediately (I wasn't sure I would be allowed to keep it/nor did I want to keep it) I read the note, my manager read the note, and my friend Elliot who had come to run with me after work read the note. "It's a nice note," Elliot said.

Basically, the man had said that he had come through my checkout line at some point and saw that I was really happy. (And I was really happy that point in my life. I would sing at work. It's a place I'm trying to get back to.)

He was not happy. He knew no one in town, he might have been drinking too much, he was unfulfilled. He said that he looked at me and figured that he wanted to be in that place that I was in. So he wrote a list, and gave himself a deadline. He worked hard, ended up divorcing, really struggled, and now he was happy.

I saw him later in the store and we talked about his gift to me. He said that he felt like he had to do it, like he was on a crashing plane making promises about what he would do if his life was spared. When he wrote the list, I guess he thought if it worked he would give me $100. I tried to give it back to him multiple times (a nice gesture, but the letter I prized) but I ended up just giving him a mango. then I moved away and moved back and I haven't seen him again.

Anyhow, I don't believe that these things really speak to what kind of a person I am (except sometimes very lucky and sometimes unlucky), but they do speak volumes about the kindness of others and the impact we can have on other people, even strangers. I am not always a kind person, but that is my worthiest aspiration. All things will come from it. Health, from kindness to myself. Wealth, for the riches of integrity and good relationships. Strength, for doing what is not always easy.

Okay, clearly I was just in a yoga class. I'm done. Love, Rachel

how did you not see that baby lurking in the bathwater?

I broke the babka. I just made my first chocolate babka (anyone else remember that Seinfeld episode? apparently cinnamon babka is a lesser babka. I like saying babka.) Earlier, as I was preparing the layers, I initiated a conversation with my housemate about the babka, where I had the delight of using the word in almost every sentence. Babka.

Well, I broke the babka, because I was impatient to move it out of the pan and onto a plate. typical. It'll still be tasty, but slightly less impressive. I probably won't eat it, but will watch the rate of consumption of it by my housemates to determine if it's work baking again.

Speaking of broken things, I've noticed that I seem to be surrounded by a lot of quirky appliances, for lack of a better term. Most of my electrical appliances come to me or are soon on the fritz. my record/cd cassette player/radio does not have full funtionality,my cell phone deletes telephone numbers at whim (I should do something about that, but I keep forgetting). Our house is an old unit, something is always breaking, the clothes dryer is turned on with a fork and has no working timer. The stereo doesn't really work... all of this, let's call it charm.

For the most part it doesn't bother me, and it can be kind of funny at times (my cousin and I commiserating on the terrible cars we once had), but... it's a nice thought. If something is broken, but still adequate (like my old laptop that I had to hook up to a monitor because the screen was broken), why not make do? maybe that's being cheap or lazy, but I think there's some wisdom in it too.

Juicy, Biggie Smalls. Gangsta

hello friends. I have had the luck of chatting via the internet with one of my best friends (so great! so smart and hilarious and cool!) meg, who is currently living in Germany. To anyone who is anti-facebook or internet communication, I have to say that I feel like at least 90% of the people I love are on the move, or will be, and I thank god for anything that allows semi-easy communication.

Moving on, it's a good morning. I woke up at 6:30 or something, not realizing that I didn't have to work, but that's being a grown up, I guess. When I was younger I bet my mom's friend that I'd still be sleeping until noon when I was thirty, but that's clearly not happening. 6:00 or 7:00 more like it, with 9:00 sleeping in, and 10:00 really late, unless there's another person to influence me. Hey-o! Ignore that last one. I am a sexless character, absent those characteristics.

Anyway, meg and I were chatting (as it is described), and I thought, I love a man who likes to see me eat. I feel like that is a sign that someone truly cares about you. I have had some a*hole boyfriends (no offense to any of you who might be nice people but were terrible as my boyfirend) and have been a jerk on countless occassions myself (romantic relationships are the weirdest kind of relationships), but anyone who encouraged me to eat/made me food/ate mexican food with me, I think, it couldn't have been all bad.

I (overshare) have a not great relationship with food. I used to, and still do in some ways, think that if I could just lose some weight, all of my "problems" would somehow magically disappear and I'd be a better person. One of the better things that happened to me was when I went to college, gained weight, frumped out, and still had friends and went on dates. I had value beyond achieving whatever idea I had that I was not measuring up to.

I still worry about getting older and becoming a sexless (earmuffs, apologies) creature, wearing mom jeans and getting jowly, but what are you gonna do? And I have a twin sister (not identical) who is in excellent shape who I can see as an example of our genes treated right. whatever. she's a mutant. a perfect mutant, who is my best friend, but where did she come from? She's unlike the rest of our family.

Anyway, as a person who, in effort not to be unhealthy about things (I wish I weren't this way, but that's okay) refuses to eat: bread, sweets, dairy most of the time, and sometimes grains and floury deals(which sound unhealthy, but if you saw me eating a burrito or naked, you'd know I'm okay). I love a man who likes to see me eat taco bell, but doesn't make me feel like a freak for the agreement I've come to with food. That is all.Now everyone, go and listen to randy travis "They say time takes it's toll on the body, makes a young girls brown hair turn grey, but honey I don't care, I aint in love with your hair, and if it all fell out, I'd love you anyway." I's a sap.

We are family... I don't know what to call this.

I am spending this weekend in the suburbs of Sacramento, the place that I grew up, although probably not the place I would describe as where I feel the most comfortable. My sister and brother are in town this weekend for a friend's wedding(more details to come), and I've been hanging out with them and my old friends, tomorrow some extended family as well. I borrowed my mom's bike to shake off the mid afternoon coma that I felt coming on. The bike is slower and heavier than my bike, with its fat tires, generous frame and ample seat. And the shocks... are those what they are called? I felt like I was riding a cadillac.

My sister just moved to a new town and has yet to find a job, and so she decided to come down on Tuesday. I felt so guilty throughout the week, because I felt unable/unwilling to sleep at my parent's house on the evenings where I had to go to work. She came to visit at my house on Tuesday, we visited my aunt and grandfather on Wednesday, on Thursday I made my mom, sister, nana, and boyfriend dinner at my house(they said it was delicious, thank you very much)...

oh no, my brother and friends just got home. This may have to be abbreviated. I whispered to them that I was writing on my blog and felt like a huge nerd.

By Friday I was exhausted and had to take a night off. I felt like a jerk, but if I don't get a little me time I get whiny and fussy like a little girl who needs a nap. However, the main event was on Saturday, so I feel like this may have been a wise move.

On Saturday we trekked to Ione, where I went to the most beautiful wedding ever, despite the buckets of dumping rain and it being held outdoors. Eli and Carina (Eli being my good friend as a result of his being one of my brother's best friends growing up) were getting married.

I can't really describe at the moment how beautiful this farm wedding was. The ceremony was short and sweet (I did not cry, though it was close), and afterwards we all went to this lovely outdoor area for hors d'oeurves and cocktails. Right before dinner it started drizzling. Soon it was pouring. Everyone was huddled under the tented areas, the women long ditching their party dresses for warm pants and sweaters. The bride's brother was amazing-- soaked to the bone, grilling beef parties and portabella mushrooms in the rain until the hundred or so (more? less? I don't know.) guests were all fed the main course. It was truly heroic.

The guests had been invited to camp on the property, but at this point, many people took down their tents. However, while it was cold and pouring, most people stayed, wet and uncomfortable under the tented area for hours.

The rain cleared out just as the party was relocated to the barn, which was filled with stacks of hay and they hung twinkle lights... we left and then came back this morning after the brunch for a gorgeous farm walk. I hope it's not rude to detail the events of someone else's wedding. It was just so neat. Because it was Eli and Carina and the so graciously invited up, my parents and siblings were all there, as well as the family members of some of our other friends.

Most of the people who were always at my parents house when I was a teenager were also at the wedding. It's so neat that everyone is still friends. I told my sister that no matter what else changes in my life and how much I can be resistant to leaving my own life to go to the burbs, seeing all of those old friends feels like coming home. She said that she was happy that I said that because she feels the same way.

So. Now that I am ensconsed in my parents house, my resistance of earlier this week has melted away. Work just exhausts me/I get easily overwhelmed when I have the perception that none of my time is my own.And I miss my cat. So, my brother is having a barbeque now. Whoo hoo! Thanks for listening.

One of these days (Emmylou)

I swear to goodness, one of the hardest things for me to deal with is the coming and going of people I care about. Selfishly, I want to keep them nearby. however, that is life, right? I went to two going away parties last night, and by doing so missed another one that was in another town. Gaaaaah! This modern life. It's okay. If we never talk again (which I hope won't be the case) please know that I love you and that it's the relationships that I have that make my life worth living. The end.

San Francisco here I come

scott, "are you bringing the jar wine?"
me (idiot, completely serious) "should I? Is that tacky?"

I once excitedly asked my friend Hannah, when she had mentioned Boston, "you've been to Boston?!?" She laughed at me and said,"Rachel, I'm from new england. That would be like me asking you, 'you've been to San Francisco?!?" Well played.Indeed, that beautiful,prohibitively expensive city is just a stones throw from my hometown. It's where I am waking up today, in my friend's fancy company paid for temporary apartment as he works on an assignment. It's the day of bay to breakers, and moments earlier I was watching spectators stream outside of scott's second story window in where's waldo costumes.

Last night we went to the Castro, where we learned that a woman can be harassed and nothing done to the offender because, "it's a man's bar" (in retrospect it was interesting to complain discrimination to a gay man), and then I think we were in the mission (so hip! I don't know), where we had the luck/opportunity to meet up with Duncan, one of my favorite people who has moved to the bay. I would have liked to harass more friends come migrants to the city,but there was just no time and traveling as a group for britney's birthday made it impossible.

I love this fair city, although I can claim no special knowledge or familiarity with it. Fun fact for all of you identity stealers out there: I was born in the bay area. In penninsula hospital. My mama moved all of us elsewhere when I was still an infant because the bay area was too expensive. I have always wanted to live here now that I get to decide where I go/don't have three small children to pay for feeding and sheltering like she did.

My nana lived in south city for over twenty years and when I was a kid we would come out and visit her a couple of times a month. I remember thinking the car ride was so long and tedious (it was usually less than two hours). I love/d her apartment, which now only is a memory. Nana is still with us, but she has since moved about a a mile away from my parents house. Her apartment had shag carpeting and a long mirror that was cracked as a result of the quake of '89. She kept sodas in the spare bedroom for when we visited and had legos and barbies for us to play with, my brother getting priority for the legos (he had the power to tell me that he was playing with them and I couldn't). My nana kept a few special barbies that she said I could have one day if I ever started keeping my room clean. I never got those barbies.

Memories associated with south city include weighing myself on the bathroom scale (because it was fun) before I was even conscious of my weight as an indicator of other things (we didn't have a scale at home). I remember waking up to smells of bacon and eggs and drinking orange juice on the small round table in the space between the small kitchen and living room.

our sleeping arrangements were that I would usually sleep in the bunk bed in the spare room, while my sister would either join me or would sleep with nana(who snores) and my brother would sleep on the fold out couch in the living room. Sometimes, I would stay up late with him, watching tv until he kicked me out to go to sleep.

Nana lived by sign hill, which we once climbed. We would go to church with her (we only ever went to church with nana... a few times uncle john too) and sometimes get rolling pin donuts afterwards.

There was a jade plant in the lobby, and a little further back a washing machine and dryer that nana said she could have paid for over the years with quarters. It was a small unit. I like the memory of the big picture window in the living room and the ocean breeze that we would gulp in after emerging from the car upon arrival.

In the single hallway nana hung painted portraits of all of her five children that must have been drawn in the sixites or seventies. my mom's was done the latest, and was the only one done out of chronological order. My uncle john was a baby, and my mom, younger than him, was drawn as a child. A little further back, next to the spare bedroom, was a glass case filled with a menagerie or glass figurines. further back was my nana's room. I hardly ever went into that part of the apartment and would sometimes get scared by the portraits on the walls, and especially if the light was turned off.

In the spare room there was a detailed map of sixties era disneyland, and stuffed animals for us to play with.

People are waking up now and I need to end this walk down memory lane. love, rachel

p.s. the mexican restaurant in south city, la tapiata (I think it's called) has the BEST salsa for sale. I'm in the mission and the sheer volume of mexican restaurants makes me want to weep with happiness.

mama's day post

Hello everyone. Happy Saturday. I am so excited that it's the weekend and I hope you are too. Tonight I get to go to a minor league baseball game with my family... and what a great family it is. Not an aunt, uncle, cousin or otherwise that I am not ever stoked to see. Particularly, I'm excited about seeing my cousin Jenn. She and I have been friends/known each other since my mom and my (now) aunt (named) cheryle (I never call her aunt cheryle. rarely) have been friends, since I was a toddler. Cheryle married Uncle John, and hank goodness, both are now officially family (although, I wish there was a recognition of honorary members. James Barnes for one. Anyway...).

This is a mother's day post and I will be talking about my amazing mama. First, let me say that my papa, Carl, deserves some kudos too. He came in a little late in the game, about 1/5 the way into my current year count (although according to stephen hawking and common sense longer given the proportion to life lived then versus now.) Carl was always willing to be a loving father, even as I was unwilling to be his daughter. He's a good man. Moving on...

My mama is a badass. She is a creative genius. So, before I met her, before I was born, she used to fight forest fires. I like this detail. I know that she had a life before us, and I especially like thinking that she was so brave and tough and hung out with cool fellas in the forest fighting crime... okay so I added that last part. I didn't like the way that her "hanging out with cool fellas in the forest" sounded. However, I like the concept. I love the idea of her being a lady equal to all of those dudes, just a badass chick, hanging out, doing exactly what they did. anyway,

My mama became a mother before my age, and had my sister and I at my age. it was rough I'm sure. Add too that, she ended up being a single mother (because she is our biggest advocate, takin' no bullshit), and she made it work. My brother and my sister and I are all relatively normal and well adjusted. My brother and my sister are cooler than I am, but what are you gonna do?

My mom and I did not have the best relationship as I was growing up. They said I was the "challenge". I don't always agree with the history, but I understand it. I was difficult, we fought, we've moved on aka my parents have forgiven me for being shitty and I have attempted to reconcile that they are human beings.

My mom has transformed their house. it's incredible. We moved multiple times as I was growing up (it's called upward mobility bitches!), and my parents eventually bought a track house. Well, let me tell you, A. Lago doesn't sew, she doesn't sit and rest on her laurels, she transforms. what was a normal, blah house is now a work of art. it's taken about 15 years, but my mom feels she has gotten it just the way she wants it. I'm trying to figure out how to tell this. So, she is the type of lady who just can't sit through a movie. She will be ironing, or fall asleep, or what have you. She likes to stay busy (hence, the sleeping on down time). She sews beautiful things in the back patio, I have a blanket and a quilt that she has made for me that I will treasure forever. The house!

My mom, like most of the people in my family, is a civil servant. Teachers, public employees, that's the family. Having three kids young and going back to school as a single mom does not translate into $$$ for quite some time. Luckily, my mom is an incredibly hard worker (she deserves everything she gets!). Anyway, the house. I love my parents house, as it is an absolute labor of love. The front yard, can I even describe this? it used to be a lawn and some trees. I miss the trees now that they're gone, but they were dead and I'm not a homeowner, so let it go lady. The front yard is an amazing, amazing garden, with flowers and produce. The back yard is the same. My mom tried to have chickens (named after characters from "I Love Lucy') but the stupid county declined, even with her huge backyard and fancy coop... I've lived in a neighboring county where people house chickens in much less posh digs.

I would come home from school when my mom had the day off and she would have painted the living room. A cheap way to change things she says. She has personally (enlisting family help) pulled up the carpet and put in faux wooden floors all over the house. She has transformed every room. She has laid brick in the back yard and etc. This is all while working full time and the majority while having 3 to 4 to 5 unruly children (a most 1 or 2 were actually unruly).

My mom is a good daughter. Unlike my mama and I, who had to come to an understanding, my mom has always (from what nana says) been a great daughter. Now nana lives about a mile away and my mom does so much for her. nana still does so much for the family (saying that I feel like I'm in the mafia. with reverse sexism) too. Speaking of, I really do feel like my mom holds things together. I have a big family (thank goodness and hallelujah!) and they are all great people. I feel like my mom is the main communicator/joiner of people.

What else? My mom always listens. And we talk. I tell her things that she doesn't want to hear (but I don't swear or talk about intimate relations. that would be weird).

Basically, my mom is wonderful. She has been a friend to all of our friends, especially those who were having trouble at home. She loves to feed people, she's funny, she has great taste in music. There is the unfortunate tendency to no recognize how cool your own parents are. I still act like a glum teenager sometimes when I go home. It's partially because I feel like I can be a big turd; one of my few safe spots. Unconditional love; don't f*ck it up! (oxymoron.)

That's all.