Amen and 'Amene

Something Beautiful. Rumi

2012-01-06T20:35:00.001-10:00

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

-Rumi

2011-12-18T17:28:00.002-10:00

i don't know if i can say it enough: if you're thinking of someone, contact them. I was hesitant, and still am at times, to just write to say hi. But, time and time again, I've found that there's a reason why that person has come to mind. And, writing to say hi has never hurt anyone, as far as I know.

And though I may tell my loved ones too often that I love them, I'd rather err of the side of too often than not enough.

2011-11-28T11:59:00.001-10:00

for those people who have lived abroad in a developing(ish) country for extended periods of time: What is the one thing you brought along that you couldn't have lasted without? If I were to stay in a country with pretty much no electricity for, say, 2 years, what could help keep me sane? ANY IDEAS would be a huge help!

how addiction pisses on love.

2011-11-14T00:51:00.001-10:00

i drove the three hours to anchoragethe day before my flight from alaska. I don't know why I drove—Mitchliked for me to drive at the least convenient moments. On the way, hepicked up my discarded Snapple can, poked various holes in it, puthis mouth over the opening and breathed deeply. “This,” hegrinned, “will work.” I immediately hated myself for getting thatdrink, as if my choice made any difference. He held the can like atrophy and I was so mad I was shaking.

I waited until the anger subsided and Icould speak without showing how angry I was. “Can you wait to smokeup?” I am sure my voice was still a little strained. “Just, canyou wait until I leave?”

He snapped, “Fine,” and threw thecan into the back seat like a child, crossed his arms, and said hedidn't know I had such a problem with it. As if all of our otherconversations never existed. As if he never noticed that I left theminute he and his friends talked about getting high. As if I hadn'ttold him, before I left my entire established life in Hawai'i, thatdrugs were the one thing I couldn't—absolutely could not—dealwith in a partner.

Perhaps, to him, those conversationsnever existed. We have a tremendous ability to ignore the things wedon't want to acknowledge.

To the best of my knowledge, the canstayed in the truck. But there are still giant empty holes where Iwas alone that night. The hour I spent by myself in the hot tub whilehe was “talking to someone.” I remember his fidgeting, hisimpatience at times. It was our last night together—a night I knewwould be our final night together ever—and sometimes it was like hecouldn't wait for me to go away or fall asleep.

The next day he drove to the airport,and parked in the furthest possible spot from the airport doors.Neither of us cried. He said he was sure he'd see me again, andsmiled when he kissed me goodbye. I lied and said I was sure we'd seeeach other again, too. Maybe we both were lying.

I walked alone across the parking lot,lugging my belongings with me. When I got to the door I turned aroundand the truck was still there, and I saw the spark of a lighterthrough the drivers' side window. My stomach... you know I can't saywhat it did. It turned to stone and dropped through my feet andthrough the concrete below and through that level and thatconcrete... It was one of the worst feelings I've ever had. I feltlike crying and screaming and like I was making the smartest decisionever by leaving him. Maybe the best word for how I felt wasdesperation. I thought that, after so much waiting and not findingthe right person and him not coming, that he was finally there, nextto me, breathing forever.* A part of me was severing ties, and a part of me was incredulous I was leaving the man I thought I'd love forever.

I loved him with everything I had. Ileft my home—the only place that really truly felt like home—tobe next to him. He was, and probably is, amazing. There were so manyreasons to love him. I know he loved me, too. We just fit. We had thesame passions and drives in life, we understood each other most ofthe time, and when we didn't get each other, we worked to understand. Everythinginside of me knew that he was It for me.

Throughout our relationship, I calledhim “Advenio,” meaning “to arrive” in Latin. I was certainthe Him had finally arrived. But over time, he was angry and mean andagitated—but only sometimes. There was a giant dark cloud over uswhen he would spit angry phrases at me as if I were nothing. I was nosaint, mind you. I would react to those angry times, and definitelynot with loving words. In the beginning, I was all open and lovingand trying to understand and eventually he would come back to me. ButI'm no stranger to drugs, unfortunately, and I always knew what wasgoing on. I grew tired of the whole situation and eventually I stopped being open and loving. His withdrawals were hate filled and painful.

Like most partners to the addicted, Iheld on to the good. If he was The One for me, I would slog throughthe bad times and stick beside him. But I'd also made a decision thatI wouldn't deal with addiction, so there were boundaries. Boundariesthat were crossed too many times. That day, the final day when I wasdragging my luggage across a parking lot because he couldn't evenwait 2 minutes to get high, the last little string of hope wasbroken. To see our bond thrown aside by him because his addiction wasmore important—I can't say what that did to me. There is no fairytale that tells you what to do in that situation.

Prince Charming didn't snort coke offhis mate's back before he stormed the castle to kiss Sleeping Beauty.Lancelot wasn't too drunk to drive his horse. Cinderella's princedidn't take breaks to get high on hisfriend's couch and stare at the glass slipper. Addiction isn't talked about in fairy tales, or inpolite conversation.

But it's there, peeing on the bushesoutside of too many people's lives.

*Integrations, by Pablo Neruda

2011-11-10T16:25:00.001-10:00

there is something inherently cruel about facebook robots. Not quite a week ago, my aunt passed away. She called me her "borrowed daughter", we share the same birthday, communicated (admittedly) sporadically, and over the last month she's popped up constantly on my Facebook sidebar, asking if I can suggest any friends for her. Especially, it seems, over the last week.

Better than Facebook friends, I can say, I have vibrant memories of her. When I was in high school she came to stay with us and cooked amazing Fijian/Indian dishes for us, imparted her family's secret recipe for DELICIOUS salsa to us, and shared her life. When I lived in India for a while, she told my mom she was looking for "Indian treasures" around her house to send to me.

When I visited her in Hawai'i, I told her I didn't have a bathtub in my house and that baths are one of my favorite things. That night, she drew me a bath in her giant pink tub, laid a variety of lovely bath salts out, and told me if the water ever got close to cold that I should run new, hot water. "Just enjoy yourself, don't worry," she said. I spent the night immersed in bubbles with a good book, and got my bath "fix" for the next several months. Life in Hawai'i isn't cheap, and she wasn't rich, but she wanted to give me something lovely. Something I still remember.

She also tipped over a bucket full of chicken in her Bronco while we were hurrying home to watch the playoffs, and she was agitated and forgot her turn and slammed on her brakes. I love that memory.

Like all of us, she had her own struggles. While she was not always an easy woman, she cared about our family so much. I will miss her, as I know many will. Her story will remain with us, and will be kept alive in us.

my roads in alaska

2011-10-20T20:47:00.001-10:00

not thinking about alaska has been my favorite pastime since leaving. But, since it's the one-year anniversary of my leaving that state and the rain here just won't stop, I've been thinking about it a lot lately.

I drove the three hours from Homer to Anchorage the day before my flight out, in Mitch's unregistered and bare-tired work truck. There is so much to say about that trip, and I'll get to it eventually when I can tell it honestly. But for now, I remember that truck and the route that we drove so many times over my stay there.

When I got off of the plane from Hawai'i, I was certain Mitch wasn't there. I don't really know why, maybe because I texted him when I landed and he didn't respond. Maybe it was just nerves after taking such a huge risk without being certain of the outcome. Either way, I waited until every passenger had left the plane before I grabbed my carry-ons from the overhead compartments and shuffled up the aisle and out of the gangway. I waited until I was second in the long Starbucks line before turning and going to the bathroom to check my makeup and brush my teeth before getting back in line. I made it to the front and turned away again. I sat down. I paced. Finally, I got on the escalator and went to baggage claim. I didn't see him, and self-consciously walked to the carousel. He came from behind me, put his hands over my eyes, and said "surprise" nervously. We filled the awkwardness with menial chit chat.

His truck has a button/pin over the driver's side visor that says "I ♥ mountains" and a 75-pound brindle pit bull named Tank in the back seat. It was a pre-dawn flight, and on the route home the sunrise was so intense it turned everything pink and orange--from the still-snowy mountains and the glassy ocean inlet at their base to the grass on the side of the road. Tank decided he was a lap dog and crawled onto my legs, settling in and resting his head on the window sill.

We took a detour to find his favorite waterfall, driving around and around because he couldn't find the right road. It was well worth the wait. We tromped through the snow and branches to see the water rushing beneath us. He raced across a fallen log above thewater to reach the other side, and I reluctantly followed, constantlynervous my feet would slip off of the slick bark. Tank ran, snout-deep in snow, back and forth between us. Our shoes weresoaked by the time we returned to the truck, breathless andred-cheeked.

Waterfall. Much, much prettier in person.

He couldn't wait to see my face, he said, when we crested the hill to Homer. You can see forever, he said. By then, the fog had rolled in and I couldn't see much but I smiled big and pretended. Three bald eagles were in the air above us--but, as I would come to find is common up there, they were haggard and losing feathers and slightly sad to me. We drove up a pocked dirt road to a yurt, abandoned pieces of wood and garbage scattered across the yard. I didn't care, I wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't pointed it out later. The inside of the yurt was still slightly warm from the fire dying in the wood-burning stove in the center of the house. We talked, got dinner, and watched V for Vendetta. I was filled-to-the-brim-and-overflowing happy. I felt like I'd found my home with him.

The view from the Yurt

Weeks later, we drove that route to pick up a part for the boat's engine. We stayed the night with his friends in the most awesome bus I've ever been in. We're talking velvet, fireplace, book shelves, stove... beautiful. The drive home took an extra 30 minutes because of all the moose on the road.

The voyage from Homer to Prince William Sound, I was supposed to drive the route again, to get supplies to Whittier for the boat when it arrived. The captain thought I was disappointed but secretly I was excited--it had been too much time with Mitch already, and I was looking forward to some alone time. But, as a service to me, it was arranged that I could be a part of the crew while we left. I sat on the deck and watched the Homer dock recede, and wished I was in a truck on that familiar route.

We had our favorite gas station stops, we got pulled over twice (while he was driving), we argued, we sang, we slept, and I grew to love that route. It's funny how roads can hold so many memories, and can play pivotal parts in our lives.

Anticlimactic as that is, now I have to go bed. So, that's the Alaska road on my mind.

Something Beautiful: K'naan

2011-09-21T21:00:00.001-10:00

the first time i heard this song was on alaskan back roads, everything dark but the moon and our headlights, in a taxi driven by my (former) roommate--a man everyone called jesus because of his long hair and beard and his kind eyes. It made me tear up. Now, listening to it after so long, makes my heart feel like it's bursting into fireworks.

K'naan grew up in Somalia before his mother moved him and his siblings to Canada by way of NYC when he was 13. Thing is, at the last minute something went wrong and she didn't have enough money to take her children and a cousin who was coming along. She had to choose, and in the end, his favorite was cousin was left behind to live in the midst of war. Beautiful, beautiful music. Check it out.

Lyrics:

And any man who knows a thing knows
He knows not a damn, damn thing at all
And every time I felt the hurt
And I felt the givin' gettin' me up off the wall

I'm just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I'm just gonna take a minute and let it breeze
I'm just gonna take a minute and let it ride
I'm just gonna take a minute and let it breeze

How did Mandela get the will to surpass the everyday
When injustice had him caged and trapped in every way?
How did Gandhi ever withstand the hunger strikes and all?
Didn't do it to gain power or money if I recall

It's to give, I guess, I'll pass it on
Mother thinks it'll lift the stress of Babylon
Mother knows, my mother she suffered blows
I don't know how we survived such violent episodes

I was so worried and hurt to see you bleed
But as soon as you came out the hospital you gave me sweets
Yeah, they try to take you from me
But you still only gave 'em some prayers and sympathy

Dear mama, you helped me write this
By showing me to give is priceless

[chorus]

All I can say is the worst is over now
We can serve the hard times, divorce, it's over now
They try to keep us out but they doors is open now
My n*, Akon is gettin' awards and covers now

This is K'naan and still reppin' the S
Comin' out of Mogadishu and still draped in the mess
And no matter how we strong, homie
It ain't easy comin' out of where we from, homie

And that's the reason why, I could never play for me
Tell 'em the truth is what my dead homies told me
Ooh yeah, I take inspiration from the most heinous of situations
Creating medication out my own tribulations

Dear Africa, you helped me write this
By showing me to give is priceless

[chorus]
Nothing is perfect man, that's what the world is
All I know is I'm enjoying today
You know 'cause it isn't every day that you get to give

Something Beautiful

2011-09-18T22:23:00.001-10:00

William Carlos Williams

Pastoral

The little sparrows 
hop ingenuously 
about the pavement 
quarreling 
with sharp voices 
over those things 
that interest them. 
But we who are wiser 
shut ourselves in 
on either hand 
and no one knows 
whether we think good 
or evil. 


              Meanwhile, 
the old man who goes about 
gathering dog-lime 
walks in the gutter 
without looking up 
and his tread 
is more majestic than 
that of the Episcopal minister 
approaching the pulpit 
of a Sunday. 
                     These things 
astonish me beyond words.

Heart's dream

2011-09-03T20:34:00.015-10:00

when i was 18, i remember standing on the steps in iowa city and thinking of the rain in africa. I nearly dropped out of university, my freshman year, because I couldn't stand being in a classroom discussing Keats' poetry while children in Uganda were stolen from their homes. I wanted to Do Something about it. My parents, of course, vehemently protested. They told me that I could do much more with an education.

Throughout my undergrad schooling, working with orphans in Africa remained my main passion. I graduated, I went on to an office job. I loved my coworkers and especially my manager. I didn't love the office job. Eventually, I decided to go back to school to be better equipped in what I really wanted to do. When my final review came, my manager wrote me a card that simply said: "I've been praying for God to release your heart's dream."

Fast forward 5 years. I have my MA now, finally, after a winding road of tribulations I never saw coming. Through everything, I kept my manager's card tucked into my "important" folder that I carry everywhere.

Now, I will have my degree (once I cough up hundreds of dollars just to get the piece of paper), and I've been praying for rest. For two years, to be exact. Just, rest. To be able to pay my bills, rent, etc. To have a quiet life. To gather myself together and remember who I am when I have the means to be who I am. To write, to paint badly, to walk everywhere, to spend time in nature and being aware of the patterns of my breath. To think. To be.

I've decided I don't care what job I have, as long as I'm not selling my soul and I'm making money. I've worked in nonprofit most of my life, struggled all of my adult life--there have been times I wasn't able to eat or didn't know if I would have a place to live the next month. I've had my share of difficulty. I just want a rest.

I was discouraged about jobs the other day, and was talking about it with my brother Garrett. I told him about the two years of rest. My brother is brilliant at asking questions. Ones you might not think to ask yourself. I'm not ashamed that I want money, but he helped me realize why. Aside from the basics, he helped me realize that I just want enough money to pay off my personal debts. My family has been incredibly gracious and lent me money, and Garrett and his wife have let me live here for 3 months without complaining. I want money to pay them all back, and then some.

"Community," he said, "means that you give when you have. You support those that don't have. And you all work towards a greater good." While I know he would appreciate my money, he doesn't need it, and would rather that I go to my heart's dream.

I'm a proud person. I admit it, I got it from my father. I would rather neglect my calling for a few years to be self-sufficient than allow myself to go where I want. To cut a(n even longer story) short, the crux of the matter is this: I was given permission to follow my heart without guilt. There are few people in this world with such an amazing and supportive family. I feel like the whole world is open suddenly. I've been waiting so long--for a multitude of reasons I won't go into now--and it's as if I can stop waiting. As if someday is Now.

It's the most amazing feeling. What happens next is in God's hands. I'm applying stateside, but I'm also researching what I have wanted to do since I was a child. With God's grace, it'll happen. Whatever God chooses will be right. It's just exciting to know that, possibly, my heart's dream might be released.

Something Beautiful

2011-08-22T11:15:00.001-10:00

These footprints were worn into the wood by a 70-year-old Buddhist monk, who stood in the same spot to pray for 20 years. Devotion.
Story here.

2011-08-21T18:11:00.003-10:00

i must say, i love that i am friends with such a diverse group of people. Along with being invited to a wedding in Saudi Arabia this month (which, sadly, I can't attend), a friend of mine has been posting all day about the Libyan struggle. The most recent, after swearing he wouldn't sleep until they were free, was declaring his first day in the free, newly reborn Libya. Then, of course, there are the Tea Partiers and the lawyers and the artists and the stay-at-home parents and the retired... I love that, when something major happens on the other side of the world, I know someone involved in it. Congratulations, Libya!

Domestic Goddess

2011-08-10T08:30:00.008-10:00

sometimes, i can be a good home maker. This morning I was up before 7, doing dishes and vacuuming the carpet with my first cup of coffee in hand and my music playing just a little too loud. Next the plants were watered, the porches and tea house swept, and then I picked this gorgeous haul of blueberries. The finger's in the picture so you can see just how many there are. Tons!!

The best way to pick blueberries is to shove yourself into the bush, start with the top branches, and then hold the branches up with your head as you work your way down. I probably looked like a crazy lady, barefoot and in my pajamas, shoved into a blueberry bush and singing to myself. Domestic goddess, gypsy style.

So, when I was done my hair was a mess, my fingers purple, and I was covered in spiderwebs (and a few spiders, probably). But had so many blueberries! And a clean house!

Seriously, Suzie Housemaker here. I even cooked some veggies with fresh rosemary for lunch.

Ok, enough domesticity, and time to do schoolwork. But while I do that, I'm going to fill up the kiddie pool and give Squirt the Turtle some playtime.

The life cycle of eucalyptus trees in Australia; or, How I committed my life to Christ for the 40th time.

2011-07-17T11:14:00.009-10:00

In my early 20's I was engaged with a group of hurting and fairly pessimistic Christians. At the time, I thought they were progressive and truthful, and didn't pick up on the underlying negativity. One of the girls noted that she was done “recommitting” her life to Christ. “I mean, how many times can you stand up and say 'I'm committing to follow Jesus?' I'm already committed, and it seems redundant.” It made sense to me at the time, and I decided that the whole recommitment thing was, well, silly.

I've been thinking a lot about arrested development over the last few days. While in certain areas of my life I'm growing, I feel like other areas have been in a holding pattern for years. I think a main reason why is because, in the back of my mind, recommitment was unnecessary.

“Look, I am making all things new,” God says. But they don't stay that way, do they? Newness is inherently temporary. This morning in community group we were talking about life cycles. It's everywhere—plants die in the winter and are reborn in the spring. Business leaders come into dying businesses and bring new lifeblood until they, too, need replacing. Friendships ebb and flow with life circumstances. Storms and floods wash away centuries of civilization that then need to start over. It's all around us, the cycle of renewal. And we don't just say “Well, I already planted that flower, and it grew, so it's silly for it to die and then regrow in spring.”

Spiritually, we go through times of distance from God. Even Mother Theresa had about 20 years where she said she didn't feel God. I can feel it when it's coming on, and I guess since my early 20's I've fought it. Maybe that's not the right word. I know it's coming, and I sigh, and I trudge through, and I don't celebrate reconnecting with God when it finally happens. I fight learning and settling into my new revelations—which are oftentimes just reminders of and expansions on basic principles I've known since I was young. My logic was something like: It's silly, to focus on a lesson you already knew and were reminded of, because that lesson was already learned. I couldn't see the new facets in what had already been a part of me. And that led to arrested development. Nothing was really worthwhile because it was all the same, and would always be the same, and when you've seen it all and done it all... as Solomon put it in Ecclesiastes:

Meaningless! Meaningless!
Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless.

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.

And, I can relate to Solomon when he came to the conclusion: “So I hated life...”

Now, after only about a decade, I'm finally arriving at his conclusion in that book: that with God the meaningless has meaning. The cycles are there for a reason. We may not know why, but that's the design. And new life is to be celebrated, in whatever form it takes. This makes me ok with all of the re-learning I have to do. Rather than fighting it, or feeling silly for the close-then-distant dance of my spirituality, I can embrace it as part and parcel of being a living being on this earth.

The eucalyptus trees in Australia grow in harsh conditions. In the outback, there's little rain and barely any nutrients in the soil. The trees cluster together in groups, their bark shiny and soft, and grow where they shouldn't be able to survive. Their bark sheds regularly, peeling off and landing at their base. Over time, that bark decays and turns into nutrients that then feed the tree, helping it grow stronger. Layer after layer, the outer skin of the tree dies and is reborn, so that the tree can grow stronger and taller and flourish. Through its own death, the tree generates more life within itself.

While I remain the same person, things grow and die and are re-born in a different way inside of me. Benjamin Franklin said, “When you're finished changing, you're finished.” Life is change. And for some reason I've embraced this in most realms of my life except for my spirituality. This changes today. I'm embracing the cycle.

Images from: top , middle (Copyright Wilbert Saint), and bottom

2011-07-07T05:38:00.001-10:00

sleep apnea. Justin died of sleep apnea.

Dad, use your CPAP machine!!!

Providence

2011-07-01T22:07:00.000-10:00

this is more for me than anyone else.

I was looking through my blog and realized I hadn't posted this, and that I need to be reminded of God's providence from time to time, so I want to document it:

I got off of the Max in Oregon City, determined to find my way home via bus but also had an urgent need to go to the mall I was dropped off at. I don't like malls, generally. Shopping is my least favorite activity (seriously. I'd rather milk a cow.), but for some reason I NEEDED to go to the mall. I went into the ladies room and heard someone crying outside the stall. I went to wash my hands, and I met Avery, a young girl, crying and washing her face in the sink. She asked if I was from Oregon and I said no.

Turns out, she'd been stranded in the mall by her boyfriend. They both lived about an hour away. Through talking to her, I found she'd been on meth for 6 years, had decided she was over it, and her and her boyfriend went to rehab in Portland. When they were done detoxing and released from the hospital, he went to find more meth. She told him that she was done with it, he said he wasn't, called her a b*tch, and drove away. Leaving her stranded, with no money, no way to get home, no clue of how to get home, and in a really vulnerable state.

I sat with her for about an hour, looked up bus/train routes to her home, called my brother to get a better handle on public transport, and just listened. She kept telling me she'd never had anyone be so nice to her--which was disheartening. To me, this is what people should just Do. So, we found her a bus and a train to her home town. I gave her my bus pass and $10 (it was a 6 hour trip, I figured she'd be hungry at some point). When I heard from her, she was home and happy. We've kept in touch, and she's ditched the crappy boyfriend and is in long-term rehab and seems happy.

Ten bucks was a lot for me, at the time. As was the bus pass. But what a great thing to contribute to! While I was waiting for my ride home, I wandered over to a local Mexican food joint. I was super hungry. I sat at the bar, not wanting to sit by myself in a restaurant about dinner time. Immediately, the guy next to me started chatting me up. Ended up that he shared his dinner with me, offered me a job that I didn't take, and generally we had a nice friendly time. And? I got steak. Yummy. I tried to refuse, but he insisted. Hard.

Then, I told him I'd just moved here and had no job, etc. He pulled out a huge wad of bills, took out $20, and set it in front of me. I thanked him but declined. He made such a scene that I realized it was better to just take the money. Humbling, for sure. I tried to hand it back to him several times but he got to the point that he was angry, so I took it. With much thanks. He made so money, he told me, that he would rather I have it.

So, God doubled my investment. I've given money before that never came back to me, which is fine. It's nice to have a reminder that God repays us for what we invest, though.

I wanted to remind myself of that.

2011-06-06T13:33:00.002-10:00

i've been reworking my resume in the hopes of, you know, getting a job. I spent all day yesterday going over interesting resumes online and considering making my own personal logo, etc, etc... just to decide to scrap the whole "interesting resume" thing and stay traditional. Sigh. Which is still taking a long time.
Sigh.

2011-05-29T19:42:00.004-10:00

about a month ago, i found out a friend of mine died. They don't know why. I wrote a big, long, rambling post about him at the time. I never actually posted it--because it was a big, long, rambling post. But I watched Deadliest Catch tonight, and saw him on there with his giant smile and his laugh, and I heard his voice, and I miss him. So here are some of the good parts from that past post:
---------------------

here's the thing: when someone you love dies, you're never ready for it. Even my grandpa, who was well into his 80's and had to go to dialysis--actually, especially my grandpa--I wasn't ready for.

When I was in Alaska, things were alright for a while. There were shenanigans, boats catching fire, boats almost sinking, me with the inability to use my hands--all of the things you think happen on a boat. But then we docked. And Mitch and I didn't really know what to do with each other. I mean, we were supposed to be in love, but really we just weren't getting along, and we had been hired to paint the boat over a one month period of time. So, we spent a month acutely aware of each other, working next to each other, while simultaneously wanting to claw each others eyes out.

Enter Justin. He was on the Time Bandit, tied up across from us. He was a giant, lovely man with a big laugh who was always down to hang out with... well, anyone, it seemed. When things were bad between Mitch and I, he would ease me. When I was left alone to do work on the boat, Justin would make jokes that kept me going all day.

Life on the docks is different. I never knew if I should talk to someone or if I would be better served to just punch them in the face. So, I was wary when we first spoke. I barely remembered the guys from the Time Bandit. And then, I was leaving to get supplies for our boat, and Justin was sitting at the dock, talking about how they were all having a family "reunion" but he was over it. "It's too much," he said, "even though they're all my family, too." So I sat with him for a minute, just shootin the sh*t, talking about how intimidating family gatherings can be. He was off to his Grandma's house. His Grandma, according to him, was the most wonderful woman the Lord had ever made. After I ran my errands, I was disappointed not to see him still waiting.

This giant, hard-lived man would spill his guts. I mean, he was friendly with everyone, and he was a talker. Within our first few conversations, I learned all about his family, his kids, his regrets and his current state of mind... and, mostly, how his grandma was "the sh*t." He was so proud of his kids. He was so excited to be on the Time Bandit and making something of himself. He was a really great man.

After a while, he was quieter and would ask me all about myself. He knew how to talk and he knew how to listen. He invited us over to his boat to "look at pictures of pretty sh*t." And he showed Mitch and me a bunch of pictures from a recent trip. He was amazed at how beautiful everything was.

And, he was my buddy!! He made me laugh and helped me feel sane when I was doubting myself and feeling alone. He was the first one who verbally told me that what Mitch was doing was bullshit. One night when I was alone on that creepy boat in that scary dock, and not for the first time, he came over to borrow some flour (not kidding!). He walked onto my boat, tucked my hair behind my ear, and told me that he would never leave me alone.

He made everything better. Justin had the incredible ability to make me feel like everything in the world was right. Even when nothing was. For a short period of time, he was what actually made my life alright. And I'm not just saying that because he passed on. He really was that person for me. Maybe he was that person for a lot of us at the Homer dock.

He passed away in February. I can't find a reason why. Literally. They don't know. Maybe it was the hard living when he was younger--I know he was mostly off drugs when he died. I don't know. It would be easier if I knew. I think I may have gone back to Alaska for the season if I knew he'd be there. We had a few loose ends, at least on my part.

I wasn't ready for him to go.

2011-04-10T20:26:00.001-10:00

what i want to do for my birthday:
1st choice: racing. Like, watching. At Speedway.
2nd choice: hockey. Game. Wherever

Unfortunately, my birthday falls in between these events.

BOO.

Something Beautiful

2011-04-06T13:42:00.003-10:00

jonas salk.

With all he did, he refused to patent his polio vaccine. Which, to me, is beautiful.

I was looking for a video of it, but all I could find was one from the Michael Moore film. I'm still going to put it up, but wish I had a different one.

So many of the great inventions we live with today were considered the people's property, rather than belonging to one person/corporation who then gets rich. I could say much more, but I've tucked my soap box away for the day so I'll let this stand alone.

I love that he says "Can you patent the sun?" Beautiful man.

2011-03-31T07:07:00.002-10:00

this morning i woke singing "how great is our god" and dreaming of a widowed pastor's wife. The point of the dream, I think, was to hold on to and praise God even when things seem terrible. Not a new point, but one I apparently needed to be reminded of.

How great is our God.

Something Beautiful

2011-03-17T06:02:00.004-10:00

MAYE TORRES

a few days ago my mom and i watched a documentary titled who does she think she is? Maye Torres was one of the artists chronicled in the doc. Listening to her speak and interact with her children was inspiring. And, her work is just ridiculous. This work is titled "Forming Wings." I like this one because of the progression in it--the bird turning into what I see as God's protective hands. Or maybe it's the transformation of the woman into her own protector/ascension.

Either way, beautiful. You can check out more from her at: http://www.mayetorresart.com/

Discord

2011-03-15T11:00:00.007-10:00

"We have an awesome responsibility to remember who we are."

-Rev. Calvin Culpepper

today i am fasting. Each time my stomach growls I thank God for all They have done for me.

I'm not sure what I'm in the process of learning, honestly. It seems discordant, and there is no neat little bow to wrap it all up with. It's like a pile of clothes on the floor, and you don't know what's dirty and what's clean and you have no hamper to just shove it all into--and would you really want to mix it all together, if you could? That's what my brain is like right now.

I guess it comes down to responsibility. The responsibility of who we are, and the responsibility of living. There will always be things about me that I don't like--and there will always be a part of me that wants to point out those shortcomings to myself. I know I'm hard on myself. I've always been, and that's not likely to go away. So there's this part of me that, honestly, wants to bring me down. At the same time I honestly love who I am and have worked hard to become a woman I can be proud of. I've come to accept my mistakes as positive things--a professor in my undergrad said that "It's a mistake not to make mistakes." And that opened up worlds to me. If I'm not making mistakes, I'm not growing and moving forward. But then I want to beat myself up over mistakes. And round and round we go.

Add to that the responsibility of walking this earth, especially as a person of passion and faith. Who we are is a great responsibility. We are given life and breath and brains and minds. The choices we make will create waves and change the world's course. If the wings of a butterfly can cause a hurricane, then surely our daily actions can have an impact. Living actively and with purpose is a powerful thing.

On Sunday the reverend spoke directly to the discord I was feeling. There is a place in life where perception is splintered: between who we are and who we want to be, between our current life and the life we hope for.

Oswald Chambers says that when we encounter dismay, we need to live in it for a season rather than holding on to a better past or a brighter future. Dismay, Chambers says, is a discipline. We learn during these times. But, it's uncomfortable. Sitting with dismay was not my favorite thing to do.

I'm back to joyous thanks and excitement about the future. Still, with no resolve. Practicing living amongst discord.

Chasm

2011-03-10T10:31:00.006-10:00

lent, day 2

There's a lovely Hasidic story of a rabbi who always told his people that if they studied the Torah, it would put Scripture on their hearts. One of them asked, "Why on our hearts, and not in them?" The rabbi answered, "Only God can put Scripture inside. But reading sacred text can put it on your heart, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.

-Anne Lamott

Today, I feel like the embodiment of this quote. My Utmost for His Highest talks about being living messengers of God, that we don't just tell about God's love but that God's love is, essentially, who we are. I don't know if this necessitates brokenness, but it feels like it.

Today I feel like I'm living in the chasm between who I am and who I want to be. It's not a comfortable place to live in. The process of Becoming isn't, really, a cake walk. (Remember those? I went to one at a fair when I was a child in North Dakota. I won a Black Forest with bright red cherries on top. It was delicious.) In a cake walk, you are certain to win. You know the outcome will be delicious cake. In actively living life, you don't know the outcome for the steps you take. And so many of my steps, in retrospect, appear seriously wrong. I am proud to have taken risks and made mistakes, but I can still feel the sting of the mistake. I think God wants me to live with this uncomfortableness for a while. And so I am. I'll be thankful to move forward from here, though.

(Photo by Emi Anrakuji)

Something Beautiful

2011-03-10T08:43:00.003-10:00

as a part of lent, i'm finding something i find beautiful/inspiring every week and meditating on it. This week it's this:

Resentment is like swallowing poison and waiting for it to kill your enemy.

-Nelson Mandela

In other words, forgiveness. Holding on to anger and bitterness only poison us, not those we're angry at. This idea of resentment/bitterness compared to poison has been around for centuries, I guess, but Mandela made it famous.

For the days before Ash Wednesday, forgiveness was the focus of my days. I think in order to do the 40 day personal Spring Cleaning of Lent, I'm going to have to go through layers of forgiveness. I'm trying.

Wednesday's Blog

2011-03-09T08:18:00.002-10:00

t-shirt from zazzle.com

i want my life to be beautiful.

My mantra for at least the past decade has been: I want to be the best possible version of myself. Not perfect, but messy and passionate and constantly learning. Growing.

Along those lines, I'm observing Lent for the first time. At first, my goal for Lent was "To get my sh*t together." But I think my focus was wrong. So, I'm going to seek God--because when I seek God, my sh*t seems to gather itself together.

Today, Ash Wednesday, is a day for recognizing your mortality. Rather than sadness, I feel immense joy. Because while I come from dust and I'll return to dust, the life I live in between is going to be pretty kick *ss. There's freedom in realizing you only have one life, and that it will end. The pain isn't permanent. The mistakes we make as temporary humans, though they seem insurmountable to us, are chances for God to grow something beautiful. And though the joy isn't permanent either, it's the joy that reverberates through time.

I like to picture our lives on a spiritual plane. There's a whole realm operating at all times that we don't understand. I like to picture that realm in terms of light--our actions and thoughts that glorify God and serve others shine throughout time and space. Like those images of Earth from space at night, all the cities lit up so that you can see them even from space. As if each of those lights were people loving each other in real, active ways. Living a life whose light can even be seen from space.

I want to walk with God in a way that can be seen from distant galaxies.

"Showing no concern for the uncertainties that lie ahead is the secret of walking with Jesus." -Oswald Chambers

Watching Julie and Julia

2011-01-08T18:59:00.002-10:00

there is so much to say

Right now, my thoughts:

1) I have a new MacBook. And my dear dad to thank. Thank you, Pop. This means more than you know.

2) Those things I experience I don't define as "adventures" enough. A woman on this movie got off the train and explained it as "an adventure." I doubt, honestly, if it compares to the *literal* riot before I got on the bus bound for Barcelona, of the 36 hours I spent on a train in India--but still I don't define them as adventures. I need to rethink this.

3) I'm super excited for my next adventure.

keep you updated?

2010-10-31T07:10:00.002-10:00

Aloha!

So, keeping you updated wasn't really an option. For over a month my hands were too tired and sore for me to do much of anything, and writing wasn't really an option. The summer was CRAZY. Difficult, tiring, challenging, exhilarating, and helped me learn about myself. Good. And bad. Thankfully, I wrote down the major events that happened so I can backtrack and tell you about all the crazy experiences: boats nearly sinking, people trying to throw people overboard, shooting fish with guns, fires, and more.

Currently, I am in Portland with my brother and his family. Getting rest. It's nice to be around people who have known me for more than a few months. It's nice to not be so exhausted and busy that I have time to be my overthinking self again. There was ZERO time for reflection on the boat. So now that I'm away from Alaska I get to choose what my life is going to look like next--a daunting privilege. I am thankful to have the time to figure it out.

new news

2010-04-29T07:36:00.001-10:00

we just got word that i'm on the boat for the summer. :) We always knew Mitch was on, it was just getting me on that was the snag. So we're both on one of the nicest boats in the harbor for the summer, doing tendering in Prince William Sound.

Happy happy joy joy

2010-04-12T10:53:00.005-10:00

So much has changed in the last month. I left my home in Hawai'i to seek out snowier pastures and love. In Alaska.

As much as I adored the art studio, things went very very bad. My business partner and I reached an impasse, and I just didn't have it in me to fight anymore. As much as I adored Hawai'i, I spent my 4 1/2 years there fighting. For myself, for social issues, to put food in the fridge. And I was just done. Tired. So when this fight arose, I didn't have anything left to put into it. And then Mitch came along.

We met at a friend's apartment for an impromptu dinner, and spent his last days in Hawai'i together before he had to move back to Alaska. After he left, I woke nearly every morning hating being away from him. So, when it all fell apart and I was going to move out of the studio and look for another job anyways, I figured I might as well do that in Alaska. Might as well follow my heart.

I'm currently living in a yurt on a snowy hill overlooking the mountains. It's taken some adjusting, but I've been trying to keep myself immersed in a freelancing project I have--both for money and to make the transition a little easier. We're hoping to get on a fishing boat for the summer (which would be AWESOME). Life is good. Cold, sniffly-nosed, moose- and bald eagle-watching, rain-on-the-tarp-while-working-on-a-rusty-boat, wood-furnace-heated-home, quiet, peaceful, lovely crisp air good.

And so I'm on to my next adventure. I'll keep you updated.

2010-03-27T04:33:00.002-10:00

it's 4:34. I'm awake because the place across the hall from my business needs to be shut down. It's a "safe haven" for runaways and drug addicts, mostly turning the former into the latter. Supposedly, there's going to be a police raid soon on the owner, who's known to be on ice. So I'm sitting by the window, in the dark of my lovely art studio, waiting for the sirens. Hoping for the sirens.

Good and evil have always and will always exist in this world. As long as there are humans in the current form, there will be good and evil. It's just surprising how much detriment one life can cause, and how little is done to stop it.

On another note, I love my life. Even this--waiting with bated breath in the darkness, watching the garbage trucks begin to make their rounds, hoping that finally the Bad Guy will get his due--even this I love. Every day is full of challenges and triumphs and moments of rest. Every day is new. And even though there are more challenges than anything else--every day is worth living. Always. It's just easier for me to feel it now. Each battle that I choose is worth fighting.

I'm starting to grow tired, and the buses are now on their rounds, delivering sleepy-eyed travelers to their destinations. Twenty more minutes and I'm supposed to call they cops myself, tell them what's going on, so that they'll raid the place. They've been here twice tonight already. Over 20 times this month alone. Why is it that nothing happens?

I just hope, I hope that his payment for his deprivation comes soon. Before someone gets seriously hurt.

2010-03-23T16:49:00.002-10:00

things are wonderful.

And, crazy busy. March's First Friday show was incredible. And, über tiring. It took me weeks to recover. Which means that now I'm scrambling a bit for this coming First Friday. And we just had our main band request more money than we can pay, so now I have to find someone else. Or take a cut if we think we can handle it and still make rent. I don't know. I'm super super super stressed but there seem to always be things popping up that need my immediate attention.

Like today, poor B woke up with a swollen eye. So we found an ophthalmologist and took him in and turns out it's a pretty serious infection--if we would've let it go, it could've gotten real bad and caused some serious damage to him.

Sigh. I have things to say but my brain is currently mush. Sorry for laaaaaaame posting. I'll write something better later. Just wanted to connect with y'all.

2010-02-22T02:53:00.002-10:00

sometimes i forget that people don't know me. I've lived in this body for so long, been inside of this mind, walked my own streets--that I forget to tell people who I am. No one here knows that I was composing music when I was 10, that I actually do know what I'm talking about. They don't know my history. Which is, in part, my fault for not telling them. But also should be something that doesn't necessitate history.

It's funny to me when people try to teach me about the things that I've studied, or lived, that are so second nature to me that I don't even speak them. That's probably part of my problem--I've gotten tired of so many topics that I don't even venture an opinion. I already know what I think, and so I don't even say anything. Which means people can translate my silence however they feel.

Perhaps silence is, in the end, my problem. I don't feel the need to tell anyone that I'm going to go clean the back porch, or that I'm updating the Facebook page, or that I'm filing the patient's charts, or that I'm whateverwhateverwhatever. I don't always know what to voice and what not to--why do you need to know that I'm going to wait until after I eat to do my dishes? Or that I'm setting up the stage lighting right now, with no one on stage, so that the levels will be right for when someone gets to the stage? These things all seem intuitive to me. Of course I'm turning the lights off--the lights don't stay on when no one is on stage. I'm learning, though, that these things are not intuitive to most people. And so they don't get what you're doing, and ask you overandoverandover what you're doing. Drives me effing nuts.

Anyways, bottom line, people don't really know me here. Rephrase: people don't know my history. There are people here who know me. Just, don't know a lot lot lot of stuff about me. Where I come from. But people view you how they want to in the end, don't they? So you don't need to know that I told off a mafia Don or used to draw all the effing time or write poetry about Plato because I think he's the greatest philosopher ever or that I know about cadence and rhythm because I studied it for years and years and years. You'll either think I'm a hack or not, based on your perception. And, for the most part, that's alright with me.

♥

2010-02-19T21:20:00.003-10:00

someone should have told my ridiculously-happy-with-life self to send messages to my future self, too. Sigh.

You know, it's funny to me how matters of the heart can affect you. Ani told me today that it's relationships that will make even the most put-together woman fall apart. Work, family, money... I guess it all affects you in different ways. But matters of the heart are in a whole different store, on a whole different level, in a different mall in a different city about 12 states over.

I've always thought it was silly, with so many huge things in the world that could consume you--injustice, genocide, prejudice, God, ruling structures, and on and on and on--that women become consumed by men. That we let ourselves fall into irrational fits of despair just because someone (who may love you) isn't in love with you. Or doesn't want to kiss you. Or wants to kiss you but not today. Or doesn't love you the way you need to be loved. It just seems so petty.

Over time, I've come to the conclusion that it is actually valid. That the reason why we get so broken is because we're offering a level of vulnerability to this person that we're not offering to anyone else. Maybe it's the little girl inside of us that was fed on Disney fairy tales and is just waiting for the moment when Happily Ever After begins. Probably it's just that we all long to really, truly be heard and understood.

I have an, erm, not so stellar history with men. By choice and by circumstance. So it's been a while since I've had to really deal with my heart. After Scott, there were different layers of heart-related issues, but mostly for 2 years my heart has been quietly gathering itself together in an attempt to rise from the ashes. But I've recently had a friendship that opened up my heart. Which was nice, to feel again, to feel in a stable and healthy way, even if he didn't feel the same.

As I've been dealing with it, I've been finding little hearts everywhere. Hearts made of plastic, little wooden hearts lying on the street corner, intricate glass hearts sent to me in cardboard boxes, hearts in the coral at the beach. I've never much liked hearts but I've begun collecting them. Maybe the sign is that I need to hold on to my own, and not keep it on the windowsill like I was doing. Maybe because this recent man made me feel my own heart beat again. But maybe all that it means is I'm supposed to feel my heart but hold it close to me, wear it like a necklace, keep it as mine.

I never know, but I try to learn from everything I go through. If I don't learn the right lesson, there'll be another situation to teach me what I was supposed to actually learn. I started writing this last night, pride-hurt and wallowing. But right now, I feel okay with everything--happy, even. My heart is mine to give and to keep. I guess my ridiculously-happy-with-life self is still here. Everything is too incredible to get stuck in the mire for long.

2010-02-03T02:10:00.004-10:00

there is so much to say. And, at 2 a.m., i feel like saying it all. Nina Simone is serenading me, after another ridiculously talented musician serenaded me 10 minutes ago (Brian Capobianchi. Check him out.), and life is amazing.

I keep on sending messages to my past self. My 12-year-old, angst-filled self, my twenty-something overwhelmed self, my not-even-2-years ago broken hearted, life-is-worthless, perpetually saddened self. I keep telling myself to hold on, that life will get better. That I have this to look forward to.

I have no misconceptions that life will be perfect, or that this feeling will continue. But I do know that I love who I have become--I have loved that for a while but now I feel like who I am and what I'm doing coincide. That I'm actually where I'm supposed to be for the first time in forever. That this is the life I'm supposed to be living. Roommates yawning in the room next door, dogs and cats abounding, people in and out of my apartment and my room, meeting new people every day, and most importantly

giving artists a place to create.

Gosh i have so much more to say. Ridiculous amounts of words. But I need to go to bed so that I can wake up tomorrow and go to my day job. Which is also great, in its own way.

Closing:
When I was 14 and on swim team, I had this one after school practice where all I thought was "How strange. How incredible and unique to be me--14 and in a pool, in suburban Illinois, watching the lines move on the pool floor beneath me, dealing with teenage situations. How strange to be who I am, in this particular situation, right at this moment." I captured that moment in my memory forever. I remember the taste of the water and feel of the suit on my shoulders and the way the water felt on my back. That the lighting was tinted green and my hair pulled at my scalp under the cap. I remember nearly everything about that moment. And also remember feeling outside of it.

And now, how strange to be me--nearly 30, living in Hawai'i, surrounded by art and unpacked clothes, musicians sleeping on the floor, hippies from Alaska playing chess in the early evening, newly painted kitchen(ish) area, cold night air after a rain. How unexpected to be living in Chinatown and smelling cardboard boxes filled with ripe fruit on my way to work, to have spent a night listening to amazing poets that know my name, to be ME, in this life. In this century, in this world. How amazing life is. How ridiculous time is.

I think I always knew life was worth living. I mean, self-evident in some ways unless you're in the thick of things. But to actually taste this beauty... it's amazing.

Mahalo ke Akua.

2010-01-27T23:53:00.002-10:00

and, (superpostingdana says), i miss my grandpa every day. Every single one. I know how life goes on, I know how things change and how you grow (hopefully for the better), but every single effing day I think of that man. And I miss him. And I can't believe I can't call him. Or that I won't see his ridiculous half-toothed smile (my favorite!), or that he won't ever meet my future mate, possible kids, all that. Every day I miss him. And, I'm taking his absence in my life as a good thing--I don't feel him, and I hope that means that he's not hanging around this planet, but has better places to be. I just wish

I wish he was still here for me.

2010-01-27T23:45:00.002-10:00

and, guys, check this out:

not the cutest picture (Shain looks cute, though), but we're makin news!

2010-01-27T23:32:00.001-10:00

and, as an aside, i'm writing this from my superawesome studio in chinatown, on the roof out my window, watching the cars pass. Enjoying the night breeze on my skin. In my bra. Happiness, dictionary definition-wise, is currently: me.

how dana does her laundry.

2010-01-27T23:24:00.002-10:00

call a friend.
Walk through chinatown with a suitcase full of dirty clothes. Try to look like you're either going on a trip or homeless. Be more sucessful with the former.
Bring a bottle of wine. This helps you feel less like a freeloader.
Do laundry, preferably while watching something great like the West Side Story. Hang out with friend. Get fed, if they have tacos. (Yay for Mattie!)
Walk home through back streets--still meet friends that ask where you're going. Admit that this is how you do your laundry.
Open your suitcase and enjoy that your room smells fresh-n-clean.

2010-01-22T02:01:00.002-10:00

i don't know what all i have to say.

I've taken on more than I can handle, in my style. I'm wearing Grandpa-n-Grandma's ring, mostly because I miss him so much. And, as I write this, the song I listened to on repeat the day I heard of his passing has come on (Samson by Regina Spektor). It's still hard to think of my life without him. I reach for my phone on my lunch breaks, to call him and tell him I'm thinking of him and to hear his stories. And I remember that maybe now someone else has his number. I hold his story inside me, and miss him.

There are ridiculous amounts of things to do. I'm trying to gather my life together, but tasks keep leaking out the sides. As is expected.

Still, I am happy. Joyous, one might say. I told an anti-Religion friend of mine yesterday that "The seat of my soul is in joy." I felt strangely church-ey when I said it, and he just nodded his head, and said "That's a good way to put it."

Everything falls apart and comes together. That's the way life goes. There are many things to say, but the bottom line is that, underneath the roiling of everyday life, I am steadily joyful.

2010-01-08T22:16:00.002-10:00

there are moments that make you ache. Sitting in nature, surrounded by beauty, and your soul just aches. Right now, I want to become a part of the art around me. I want to take the canvases off the frames and wrap myself in them. I want the music that Travis plays to solidify in the air and wrap itself around me. Art--life--is so beautiful and intense and intangible that my soul rises to meet it, only to fall short.

It has been a long time since I've heard my soul sing. I'm still familiar with the melody, though.

2010-01-06T18:46:00.002-10:00

it's hot here. In the new place. Stuffy. So, I'm in my underwear (sports bra and boy shorts) doing work on my bed, as you do when it's hot. And a supercute stranger shows up at my door to ask about the swing dancing class that'll be here tomorrow. And I had to talk to him about it. In my underwear. Sheesh.

2010-01-02T22:35:00.002-10:00

inhale, exhale.

It's getting colder. Scarves during the day and blankets at night. Still can wear a tank top and go to the beach if you want, so I'm not complaining. It's just nice to feel like the air is slightly newer than before.

Last night was a success--full (if not packed) house, and I swear that we have the best clientele on the whole island. I had a temporary breakdown (as predicted), but that's why there are two of us. I brought it together, and Shain held it together. Afterwards, I slept until 3 pm. Gladly.

I'm doing things, step by step. I can't let myself burn out completely, because that would take months to recover from. I just have to remember: left foot, right foot. Feed yourself. Drink water. Close your eyes. Breathe.

2009-12-31T12:05:00.002-10:00

i think i'm going crazy. With Shain gone, I was doing Ong King all by myself, most of the time while working. Now, even though she's back, there's so much to do. I'm running around all the time, picking up speakers, writing press releases, trying to hold things together... And trying to pack and move, to do a freelance project, to take care of my health, to at least say hi to people I love... So far I feel like it's being held together, at least a little bit. I took Christmas Day off, and most of the following day, which was really really nice. But now I'm thinking I should've been packing like I'd planned...

Today's blog is brought to you by the letter D, and the word Overwhelmed.

2009-12-28T01:58:00.002-10:00

rather than putting on a cd while i clean, i have super talented musicians who want to give me private concerts. Travis Levity (you can't really see him in this video, but it's the best I found as far as sound goes) stopped by the space today, and I'd planned to spend the day cleaning and sorting. I asked if he had any music, meaning a computer or something, but instead he just created music for me. All day. It was lovely.

2009-12-21T00:40:00.002-10:00

i am: bone tired, happy, conflicted, and nervous.

Bone tired because I have 4 jobs. And it's Christmas which means shopping in my spare time, and trying to figure out everything that needs to get done before 2009 comes to a close. Currently, there is no down time. My down time is when I have 5 minutes to sit down and either eat, call friends n family, or make business calls. I am burning the candle at 5 ends, and the candle only has 2.

Happy because I love where life is going. I love Sunday Open Stage. Tonight, Shain decorated the place to look Christmas-ey, and we had a potluck. We had a lot of spoken word. And, we had a lot of music, including several impromptu jam sessions that were Incredible. We have amazingly talented artists coming to this space. Tonight we had a woman who got up and did stand up. It was her first time in the space (we had several super talented newbies), she was really funny, and I'd never seen anyone do stand up at Open Stage before. And we were asked to be part of a fringe festival. Excited. Happy. Soul food.

Conflicted because, with all of these changes, I'm not sure who to trust. It seems like everyone's warning me about someone else. I meet new people every day now, and many more people know my name than I can reciprocate. Which makes me feel terrible. But anyways, I'm working with all of these new people, or getting to know old friends on new levels, and I just don't know which people to trust and which ones not to, yet. I'll figure it out over time, and for now I'm just keeping myself on an even keel, but it's a little disconcerting to have so many people tugging me in different directions.

And, in closing, I'm nervous that I will not wake up in 5 hours like I need to. I have 4 alarms set. I am so so so tired, though. Think good waking up thoughts for me.

2009-12-18T06:53:00.002-10:00

it's early. Dark-outside-already early. I flipped around in my bed, dreaming of a baby rhinoceros, before I stumbled into the shower. Now, it's an hour before I start work, and I feel pretty awake and ready to go at it. Maybe I'll do this every morning. Up early so I can function the rest of the day.

Let me just tell you, I'm going to be taking comfort in the thought that I can go to bed early tonight.

Wow. I'm laaaaaaammme.

2009-12-17T00:10:00.003-10:00

i'm not breaking out per se, but my pores are mad clogged. Stress. Or, living... I've slept without the fan on in my room for the past few nights b/c it's kinda chilly, and when I wake up my eyes hurt and I'm stuffed up and sneeze a lot. Mold and grossness abound in this room. It doesn't help that I've been superbusy and so my clothes, etc are piled everywhere.

I'm ending up doing most of the planning for First Friday. Which is fine because I know most of the people that are performing. It's just making freelancing difficult (nonexistent), and means that I spend a lot of time on the phone or meeting people or writing up stuff. Which is great, and is what managing an art space entails. Just, also means next-to-no sleep. And absolutely no time for me.

The day job is good--it keeps me going all day long. There's barely time to use the lua if I need to, let alone send off a txt to a performer/friend/newspaper (that's right, bitches, we're makin the news!). Lunches are short and filled with hospital food. But somehow when work is over I feel energized most days. It's almost like playing one of those time management games online.

bedtime now.

2009-12-16T01:36:00.002-10:00

always good to see carol. Always.

Money makes people ugly sometimes. I love that my parents made sure that I know that it's a means to an end, not an end. Those "If someone offered you a million dollars to..." questions were never, actually, a question. If anyone offered me X amount of dollars to do something, the answer is always No. As long as it's compromising my values. Money is just something we decided was valuable along the way. Those pieces of paper are convenient when you want to buy a car, or pay rent--and don't get me wrong, I appreciate the value of money. It took me years to understand that money isn't something to be shunned. But, in the end, your life is what you make of it. It's the friends, family, the Passion that makes your life. Not the checking account.

I thank God that I have a sense of business. I never took myself as a business woman, but I do have a knack for it. Because what we're going into needs a good business mind, which it didn't have before--as I'm learning. I'm thankful that I've had really excellent teachers along the way. It's funny how life prepares you for life. This art space, as I've heard from multiple people now, needs a good business mind.

On a different note, I had more, but I need to wind down and go to bed. Bed=calling me.

praise God from whom all blessings flow...

2009-12-15T12:00:00.002-10:00

including staying home from work, legitimately. The Doctor has the stomach flu today, so I get to stay home. And after the last two days I've had, this is much, much needed. Freelancing and laundry, here I come.

2009-12-14T01:15:00.004-10:00

thankfully i work well at mach speed. Because, right now, that's necessary.

Things at the art studio are going well. We really just need a working shower, and then we'll be good to rock. Tonight at open mic we had a lot of new people--which is great. We got a band to open for first Friday for us, and we're going to do the hip hop show later in the month. What I want is for graffiti artists to come in and just take over the walls. Because we need to strip them and sand them and repaint them anyways. So I just want them to tag the whole open space--the stairway, the lanai walls, the backyard walls. That would be Great. Capital G great.

Work is good--thankfully I have a lot of work. But, wow. I have a lot of work.

Sometimes I wonder how energy flows. (Complete change of topic, by the way.) There's this guy that comes by the art space and does a lot of extreme Energy/Buddhist/Neo-type presentations. I try not to get into the religio-philosophic realm with him, for several reasons that I don't feel like listing. But tonight as I was leaving open mic he called me back, and said he was full of energy and wanted to pass it on to me. He put his hands on my shoulders, and after a short while he withdrew them and told me that I was full of love. My heart chakra, he said, was basically overpowering. Thumping. I almost felt like he didn't want to continue touching me because it was overpowering. He never said that, though.

But he did say something about me being fierce. I told him that, in everything I choose to do, I'm always fierce. I love fiercely, I'm fiercely loyal... He said that he could tell, that I'm like a tiger. And I realized that he's the first person to use that word for me other than myself. That he felt that the seat of my soul is in my heart. That even though everyone calls me peaceful, there's fire in my veins. And he saw it.

I guess I just wonder how all of these human souls are connected. Why I feel my "radar" go off when far-away friends are in tough spots, why my mom and I call each other at the exact same moment, why people are drawn to each other... Just the general turning of the world, all the things we can't explain. That's what I'm thinking about tonight.

2009-12-09T23:05:00.003-10:00

beautiful beautiful beautiful day.

After work (where Dr. gave my eyes a clean bill of health), I rushed home, changed clothes, and rushed down the hill to pick up my friend B. For those of you who haven't heard, the waves yesterday were over 40 ft. Something I had to see, even if it was at night. B and I drove to the North Shore as it got dark. She'd brought a pizza and a bottle of wine and we drove in my new car with the sunroof open. We talked about life and God and humanity and family and we laughed. A lot. We got to the beach and sat and ate and drank.

The waves were so big, the spray was thick and at least 4-5 ft high. It looked like the water was reaching claw after claw into the beach, raking away the sand, trying to get at something. Or someone. So much force behind each wave, and each receding wave either clashed against or was enveloped by the next. And the sound! Oh, the sound. It was low and rumbling like thunder. You could even feel it in your stomach sometimes as the waves fought with each other. All this arcing, roiling madness was taking place under the clearest sky I've seen in ages. Not a single cloud for a good 3 hours. The stars were ridiculous. The ocean was ridiculous. The air was cold. And B and I just camped out on the sand for a while, soaking in the salt air.

We've both suffered recent losses, hers more recent than mine. Last week, she lost a baby she'd been carrying for nearly 2 months. I know the cavernous ache that losing Grandpa created inside of me--I can only imagine how it feels to lose something that was, actually, inside of you. She is strong in a way that recognizes how she feels. I admire that she's not really OK. Because, honestly, sometimes in life you're just not okay. I admire her for many reasons. This is just the one I saw today.

2009-12-08T22:00:00.002-10:00

Video of Lindsey Button (from undergrad), for those of you who know her.

http://newvalleychurch.org/media/video.html

2009-12-07T00:37:00.002-10:00

this whole thing is exciting and scary and frustrating. I mean, I like it. I like it better when See (the original owner/creator/everything of Ong King) is there to do the mic. Because he's super great in front of a crowd. Me? Not so much.

Tonight was fun, and before the open mic we had a meeting. And every time we have a meeting I get a little nervous and a little scared. Which is good, I guess. We have people that are really excited about what we're doing. And people who still don't know. And all things in between. And I start work again tomorrow... and I'm tired... and I just want to be living in Ong King already and doing the artist stuff and walking to my day job and not having to deal with other people's control issues. Especially when they want to control my life.

Sigh.

2009-12-02T01:27:00.001-10:00

I AM ON CRAIGLSIST MISSED CONNECTIONS!! In several cities. Someone I met at the airport really wants to get in touch with me...

::giddy::

2009-12-02T00:23:00.002-10:00

home.

It's great to be back on island, even though I miss my family terribly. Already. Such is life, I guess. I came home to masses of things to do. And, to sneezing. I need to get out of this house--as great as Uncle is, I just can't stop sneezing in this place. Too much mold and dust.

The visit was wonderful. Banana Schpeel was great, great great. The Palmer Hotel is incredibly beautiful. The city had the same energy and feel that I love in the holidays. My parents were good company, as always. It was good. Good times.

Now, over the next three days, I have two good friends that are leaving the island on Friday, so I need to see them; I have a stupid amount of phone calls to make; and Friday is First Friday so I have to host the event at the art space. Wish me luck!

2009-11-22T23:58:00.002-10:00

i'm feeling out of place. Pretty much everywhere.

What I really want to do, honestly, is get a nice studio apartment and settle down into work+life. I think I have the ability to cocoon myself, somewhat. Except that wouldn't be fulfilling and for some odd reason the whole concept of living a Comfortable life scares the crap out of me. I think I just don't want to live a life of quiet desperation. Or simply live passively. I want to keep myself moving and growing and changing so that I'm actually living.

So, I'm going into this art community thing. Where every Sunday we open up the floor so that anyone can express themselves in whatever way they feel. But I haven't been around a lot so, apparently, my nickname is "The Elusive One." And, I've always been a watcher at first--I absorb and am quiet in new situations around new people, which isn't necessarily conducive to what's going on here. Oh well, I am who I am just as much as these performers are who they are. I am okay with feeling out of place, just not greatly comfortable with all of the jostling I'm receiving.

Tired. Must wake up at 6. Blech.

in the new:

2009-11-22T02:17:00.003-10:00

1) i'm going to try, with another woman, to take over an art space out here. We want to make it more of a community center, create a 501(c)(3), and teach kids how to do art and introduce special needs into the mix. And do something with the older generation, too. And maybe the homeless. And sustainability. We got high hopes.

2) I have a full time job (HOORAY!!!) that I think I'll like. If nothing else, I like the people I work with, and I'm FINALLY getting paid!!!

3) I'm experiencing that, as people get older, they just get married for the sake of not being alone and thinking they can't do any better. Please don't ever let that be the reason I join myself to another human being.

4) I miss my grandpa every day.

5) There are some positive things that came out of his passing (though I'd rather have him here). Among which: I feel like myself again. After a few years of feeling like a stranger in my own skin, the real me has risen to the surface. I have my voice back. I know what I want, where I'm going. Thanks, Grandpa, for that final gift.

6) The next post will not start nearly every sentence with the word "I".

7) Everyone should read Extremely Close and Incredibly Loud. Now. So we can talk about it.

2009-10-28T19:02:00.002-10:00

currently watching: it's the great pumpkin, charlie brown.
previously watched: the waves at cockroach cove sweep the sand from the beach

which is why my hair is wet, at 7 pm, as I sit and do some freelancing work from bed. Before the ocean, I was catching my breath while hiking Mariner's Ridge and watching the wind sweep the hills of Hawai'i Kai. God's breath was moving with ease; my own was not. Someone is out of shape, and it's me.

this morning i was groggy and unused to waking up at 6. After falling in and out of sleep for an hour I pulled myself out of bed and put on my lucky dress and drove to the doctor's. Not for treatment, but for an interview. At a job I really, really want. It seemed to go swimmingly.

Which is why today was beautiful.

2009-10-16T17:58:00.002-10:00

for real i don't know if i've ever been this sick in my life. On the mend, though. But, yeah, sick also equals emotional. I just cry over the smallest things lately--I'm watching Discovery about little Hayley with progeria and I've cried 4 times in the last half hour. Sigh. Mess.

2009-10-13T00:09:00.002-10:00

a couple things.

I've been having unnerving dreams since I flew back in to Hon--the sort of dreams where you feel like a stranger who knows all about you is in your room while you're sleeping. So I blessed my room, and rearranged a little, and now there are creepy noises. I may sleep with my rusty machete next to me tonight.

I'm thinking, since I tend to search for "something beautiful" but not find it, of starting up a blog called the Daily Dose of Beauty. And just post pictures or drawings or poems or quotes that I find beautiful. What do you think?

great love

2009-10-11T22:09:00.005-10:00

i've been thinking a good deal about love lately. As in, the romantic kind. And I realized that I've been surrounded by great love. Maybe I just didn't recognize it because it didn't look how I thought it should.

My grandpa loved my grandma for 70 years. That's nearly a whole lifetime. Even after she passed, every day was spent looking at her picture, talking about her, missing her. When she was alive, he would've done anything for her. All of his stories were about her, even the ones where she wasn't mentioned.

My mother and father celebrated their 40th anniversary this year. Forty years of choosing to love the same person, when it's easy and when it's hard. I think that your parents' relationship is always an enigma--though you're around them for a significant portion of your life, so much of how parents relate is private. Which, I guess, goes for most relationships. Either way, however their public and private relationship plays out, I think that 40 years together counts as great love.

Love is a strange mix of instinct and choice. The television recently told me that "the heart goes where it wants," which echoes Woody Allen's "The heart wants what it wants. There's no logic to these things." Except, since it's from Ghost Whisperer and not a man who married his adopted daughter, it's significantly less creepy. But I digress. It's the heart that draws us to a certain person, but it's our will that makes us stay. Love isn't just butterflies and knee-weakening eye contact. After your heart has hitched your star to someone's wagon (or vice versa), you have to actively choose to stay hitched.

Sometimes leaving a relationship is the wisest choice, of course. And those are the decisions people need to make for themselves. I'm just proud right now to have two living (even if they're not all breathing...) examples of great love in my life, spanning at least two generations. I'm hoping someday to add my name to that list, too.

2009-10-11T11:28:00.002-10:00

i had my first dream about grandpa last night. Well, the first since he passed. It wasn't profound, but it was lovely to just have him next to me. He told me that a belt looked good on me, and then had me wear Grandma's wedding dress--a beautiful, champagne/gold colored lacy tight number. He told me to keep it for my upcoming wedding. Um, don't even have any suitors, so don't worry.

Come to think of it, though, I don't know what Grandma's wedding dress looks like. I haven't seen any pictures of their wedding day... nothing. I know that they had to marry quick--he was on a break from service in the Navy in WW2--so maybe it was a court house wedding? Dunno.

But yeah, it was good to have him next to me. I didn't want to wake up.

(cough cough)

clean slate

2009-10-07T12:06:00.004-10:00

my computer has nothing on it, anymore. I have a new hard drive, and with that comes a clean computer. Now, I get to choose what I put on it: the pictures, the songs, the old journals that I want to be taking up space, rather than just already being there.

I feel like my life is like that, now. After something as big as this, there is no way I will ever be the same person. I know it already. So, computer as metaphor for life: now I get to choose what I want to be taking up space in my days. The people, the places, the job, the physical objects... all of that. I like this idea, and though I've been slowly cleaning house for months now, I've decided to really change. To choose change rather than wait for change.

Now, if only I could get over this stupid head cold and start on life...

2009-09-24T10:40:00.002-10:00

From 2007 when I went to take care of him:

once we got him to dialysis and sat him in "his" chair, we realized we'd forgotten his teeth. He has half of them on the top, but the other half is fake and was at home, sitting on his tv tray. Along with his glasses. He still just laughs about it and hits on all the nurses. "Hello, gorgeous!" he says to all of them, regardless. "Here comes trouble!" they say when he comes in. As they hook him up, he tells me a story about 2 Patricias, one in Chicago and one in Brisbane, both of whom wanted to date him, but he was in love with my grandma and turned them down. He started dating my grandma when she was 13 and he was 17. "Good thing she didn't have a father, or else he would've kicked me clear out of there."

At home, during the day, he sits in his chair and looks at pictures of her, just like every other day since she passed. He has these great old photos: 1) Her, white dress, 1950's barrel-curled hair and deep red lipstick standing on a hill. 2) Him, jeans and a jacket over a button-down shirt, popped collar and hair like James Dean, squinting in the sun on the same hill. 3) Them, kissing in that old fashioned way, her body curving into his.

He hates wearing his flannel shirts without an undershirt; it shows the world his chest hair. "Ma loved that hair. Drove her crazy. But she was always telling me to put on a shirt if we were going out."

He's fiercely independent despite his body's failings. But he doesn't mind if I baby him.

Sometimes I think maybe I'm crazy because there's still joy in my bones, despite dire circumstances. But how else do you get through this? And what more is there but joy, quiet but firm, settled underneath the sadness.

2009-09-15T22:15:00.002-10:00

around sunset, when frank and i call each other after work, the first questions are always "how was your day?" We take turns, and actually tell each other what happened. I've said for a while that part of my understanding of love is in how you approach each other. Greetings, to me, are important and reveal a lot. I like the way he approaches me. It seems important to him, too.

Other than that, I've had a trip to the big island, a good friend come and visit, and was so exhausted recently that I slept for 17 hours straight. I don't have much to show for all that work, either. I need to get on it... in a more efficient way.

My life is fairly boring recently. Er, not true. Just, my life is too full to blog with regularity? Maybe that's it. Night, all.

2009-08-19T21:57:00.002-10:00

i've been compared to a horse twice that i remember. At 14, I was taller and broader than most of my classmates. I could bench 200 pounds, I was on swim team, I ran every morning... and still always always just felt fat, rather than big. I made some flippant comment about my fat to my dad, and he told me that no, I wasn't fat, I was strong. Built like a horse. Although I knew at the time that this was a compliment, it didn't do much to boost my teenage self-esteem.

The other day I showed up at Frank's place straight after work, slacks and all. Guess the pants fit me well because the Guy kept commenting on my legs. "You walked up here like a Shetland Pony," he said. I guess it's a compliment I have to get used to.

2009-08-17T23:19:00.003-10:00

i started with so many thoughts, and they all dissipated.

I don't really know what to do with my life, anymore. I've always known until the last couple of years, and it leaves me somewhat on edge. I feel like I'm regressing when I should be moving forward. I guess everyone goes through the "what should i be when i grow up" stage at some point, I'm just going through mine late in life. Hawai'i is the only Home I've ever known. But--

On a different note, one of the dogs got sick today and we had to take her to the emergency vet. Rather than cleaning/organizing/washing dogs/taking my compy to the Apple store/etc/etc, I sat in bed with a slightly smelly dog on my lap. Her tiny, skinny body awkwardly positioned--the only way she would have it--and her constant panting interrupted my movie. But when I put her to bed she seemed nearly normal again. Love heals.

I've also decided that I need to get a job. A real one. One that pays me a livable wage.

Last night, I dreamt about a tiny lil kitten that could fit in my pocket, named Nomi, which means beautiful in Hebrew.

2009-08-16T23:34:00.004-10:00

drinking beck's makes me feel like i'm in ewa again. Things seem much less desperate now. Life is a little more settled and worth living.

The boyfriend and I had our first argument today, if you can call it that. And not that I break things off at the first sign of trouble, but I wonder how much of him is for me. If we'd just be better off hanging out. Though, his cousin's daughter ran into his room yesterday and called him "Auntie Dana's man!" and ran out giggling. He's a part of my family--my hanai family--and I don't know where to go, if we should call it quits before it'd be painful to see each other down the line, or if we should stick it out to see if it'd go somewhere real. I'm too tired to think about it tonight.

I worked the Ziggy Marley concert. It was fun, though it felt like he was in a routine--the songs just didn't have much heart behind them. Afterwards (which, he didn't even do ONE hana hou, btw) I went into the back to clean, and there he was, five feet in front of me. He looked at me and smiled. Again, being the non-star-struck person I am, I just smiled, picked up the recycling and left the room. Wanted to be done. It was a looooong day.

I'm enjoying where things are. Now I just need to get paid.

Oh, and, I'm still longing for that bath. Just an hour undisturbed. Sounds like heaven to me.

2009-07-24T19:30:00.000-10:00

today,
i miss my family.
and i want nearly nothing more than
a bath.

2009-07-14T00:09:00.002-10:00

when i have my own home, i will plant a garden. And in that garden will be cactus. On that cactus, will be the night blooming cereus. And I will have a party the night that it blooms, so everyone can see the wonderful strange loveliness of such a flower.

2009-06-27T15:10:00.003-10:00

well i think i'm over my cold. Still have a cough, need to be aware and take vitamins and stuff--but taking care of myself for 3 days and the flu is pretty much gone!! Great how that works.

I've been having crazy, vivid dreams lately, though. They bleed into my life somewhat, and it's hard to separate the two. The Ex's song for me was Like Red on a Rose (he WAS a cowboy...) and I woke up singing it a few days ago. So, I removed it from my bookmarks and said goodbye to the song. Days later, I dreamt of him telling me not to forget Red on a Rose. Um, now that's it written out it's self explanatory. Guess letting go is a long process.

I also dreamt that the Sailor was on Maury Povich with his ex wife, Maria, crying about how he could never love again. I found out from my current roomie (Theo) who was surprised by his mom with a new father...

Anyways. The Terrible People have moved. The last one moves tomorrow. They're gone... I don't know how that makes me feel. Relieved, kind of. And now there's this new group I'm merging into--intelligent, driven, entrepreneurial, articulate, and still FUN, passionate--I like this. It feels like I'm, growing up? Maybe?

nyquil

2009-06-23T19:39:00.002-10:00

i dreamt i had swine flu, but even though they'd diagnose it for free, they wouldn't treat me until july 1 when i have medical insurance.

I also dreamt that I was suffocating. Over and over. Everything operated as normal, I just had to remind myself to open my mouth and put my head back. Everything will be ok.

the type of man uncle is

2009-06-22T20:25:00.003-10:00

today i left work early because i was sick. Got home, and uncle needed some help. Went with him to move some couches from apartment to apartment. Not excited. Tired. So he let me do lil things (like cushions). We showed an apartment. Feeling tired and sick, I laid down on the couch after the clients left.

"Want some malasadas as a treat?"

Yummy, doughy, sugar-n-haupia hot goodness. Limit: 1

He's supposed to go to dinner with his cousin. Instead, he pulls out our nearly-fully-eaten chicken, boils some potatoes, and spends nearly an hour making me yummy, yummy, yummy chicken soup. Moved his dinner back. So sweet.

---------
Oh, and? This morning he packed my lunch and helped make my breakfast. I love him.

2009-06-21T22:26:00.002-10:00

day was:
wake with stuffed, throbbing head.
go to dog show... interesting to say the least
show an AMAZING 2-bdrm penthouse in Waikiki... if only...
go to 9-course family dinner with uncle
bed by 9:30

Where I am

2009-06-04T20:02:00.002-10:00

at uncle's house the air smells green and damp, and the clouds roll in off the mountains and blanket the sky, soft and gray, before breaking apart above the valley. The lizards here somehow sing and chirp, like little hidden cricket-birds. The archways are tall and grand, the floors tiled and worn, the paint hangs in strips from the ceiling. Sometimes, you'll even find it in your food. Beautiful old antique vases and clocks, along with knockoffs, along with empty boxes and papers and containers and stacks of newspapers and old VHSs fill the rooms in piles on top of piles on top of piles. Uncle knows where everything is. Our washing machine starts (or stops) when you push the big, back lit, blue"Play/Pause" button. My clothes, for the first time in years, actually come out clean.

Every morning, I'm greeted by 17 excited little furry faces that just want love. And food. A Pomeranian's bark is soft, as if they all yelled too much last night and are hoarse today. When all 17 are barking it almost sounds like running water. They're small enough to pick up by the scruff, and when you do their legs go stick-straight, tails wagging, eyes half-closed, a look of bliss and contentment on their face. They love to be held, and immediately go limp in your arms. Or, they nuzzle in to your neck, or under your chin, as if they want to hide in you. They're lovely.

I wake up early, which is surprisingly easy for me lately. Without my alarm, I've been up by 6:50 most days. I stumble out to the lanai and feed the dogs and get love, and then make coffee. I'm actually eating breakfast, nowadays. By 8 the cool morning damp has evaporated, and that's when I'm thankful for Uncle's dark, cavernous house.

I don't have internet as much, but I do have a t.v., and I sit and crochet and watch Golden Girls and feel like I'm about 85 years old. I'm considering reading before bed again--I used to love that. I've lost that frantic feeling I've had for years now, and finally feel my days unfolding with me again. If that makes sense.

And, for as up in the air as I am, this is where I'm supposed to be. And I'm going to love it while I have it.

2009-06-01T22:36:00.003-10:00

moved in. Uncle is one of the sweetest, most generous people I know. Today, I asked to borrow the car to go shopping and he said we should go together and he bought everything. His house is open to everyone, his fridge is open to everyone, if he knows you like something he'll make sure to get it for you... he's just lovely. He cares about people, and honestly wants you to do well and succeed and be taken care of. I feel like I'm in A Home. This is good for me.

Moving was an exhausting pain in the @ss. My foot hurt so bad by the end that I thought I was going to throw up. House full of crap that people have left there over the last 10 years, all had to be boxed up and taken to the garage. Had to clean after roommate threw an eviction party--which was fun, but a little too much for my taste. Fun, though. So, yeah, possibly the worst moving experience ever. No one wanted to help or work. Three of us ended up doing nearly everything--and one of them didn't even live in the house.

The dogs! Oh, the dogs. They are the sweetest 7 pounds of fur you will ever lay eyes on. They're bushy and wiggly and loving and their barks sounds like they've perpetually lost their voices. Muted little puppy yipping. They love being held. They'll be all excited and twirling around, and the minute you pick them up they just go limp in your arms, so happy. Or, they try to climb up to your neck to nuzzle. I'm in love.

lately

2009-05-22T00:02:00.004-10:00

these are the things that have happened:

I'm moving in with Uncle. 18 little dogs to take care of every day--sweet lil 7 pounds of Pomeranian fluff. So, living is taken care of through August. Which is the 3 months I decided to give Hawai'i to see if I can make it here.

I have a prospective job with a sustainability nonprofit. I can make it into whatever I want, it seems. They're looking for me to be a consultant in 3 months. If I can get grants and build it up, I should be able to make this into a full time job, doing what I love. Fingers crossed, everyone!!

Thursday, a week from today, I move out of the house. Bittersweet, for sure. But I trust that things work out (which is, sometimes, a delicate place to live.) and it seems that things are working out.

Praise abounds. Even if I don't end up where I envision.

2009-05-17T03:25:00.000-10:00

meet with uncle again tomorrow, see the house. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

ladies and gentlemen

2009-05-12T12:15:00.001-10:00

we have a winner. Well, at least, we have one heck of a good guy. Great date. I'm a fan. :)

The poetry for tonight.

2009-05-10T23:28:00.001-10:00

Grace Cavalieri

WHY THEY STAYED TOGETHER

Take Snow In My Arms
--H.D.

First there was the
Powdered sugar
Covering all thoughts
Like a winter storm in the ghetto,

Then--the weight of the trees
Around the house,
Roots entangling
Growing through the chairs,
Wood conspiring to connect
To keep them there,

Finally it was the crooked
Hands that matched just right
The loose door knob and twisted key
Inside the burnished lock within the frame,

At last, it was their sleep intertwined
As if were planned that way
As if it had somewhere to go.

catching up

2009-05-10T23:05:00.004-10:00

i have a few choices of places to live:
1) with uncle, where I take care of his dogs (he breeds Pomeranians) for about 2 hrs/day to cover rent.
2) in a 3-bdrm house with current roomie and crazy talented poet woman.
3) in this studio that I LOVE, but it's a little expensive. But nice.
4) in a 2-bdrm with a girl I don't know.

Dunno. Pluses and minuses to each of them.

I have one job that's probably in the bag, part-time working with a sustainability organization. And I've found a few promising positions that I just need to hear back from.

I have a pseudo-date tomorrow with a sweet, sweet, handsome man. Will see how that goes.

My room is embarrassingly messy.

I have not been the most social person lately.

BUT I did have a superfantastic weekend--painted/read in the park, sunset at the beach, day at the beach playing Kubb (ridiculous amounts of fun), had great BBQ where I got to dress like a gypsy, good friend's b-day party, really great concert... actually, had a lot of things go on this weekend. Yay!

What should I wear to the pseudo date???

2009-05-04T14:12:00.002-10:00

oh my gosh i need a job. I just made a mangatar of myself, and I TOTALLY made myself a professional. Instead of something awesome like an elf. I'm even wearing a jacket and glasses.

Please, someone, hire me! I want to work!!!

2009-04-28T02:59:00.002-10:00

i've been considering moving for the last two days. The short of it is, I'm tired. But no place has ever felt like home like Hawai'i feels like home. Still, we'll see.

I wonder about love. There's someone that I've been wrapped around for months, with (what I perceive as) no real reciprocation. And so, now that's pau. Ish. Because you can remove your heart to a certain extent, but it's still going to do what it wants to in other respects. Tonight I talked to a man who is incredibly in love, and it made me happy. Just to know that, somewhere out there, there are people that find each other, that make it work, that want nothing more than to be with each other.... That gives me hope.

And, in the end, I love the life that I've been given...

2009-04-24T19:40:00.001-10:00

my birthday was perfect. God's present? A lightning storm.

2009-04-19T13:12:00.002-10:00

first: my foot hurts.

Second: Church is online today, and I love Tony Campolo and looked him up and Holy Crap The First Sermon On This Page Is Wonderful. Praise God for honest Christians.

poem my first boyfriend read to me.

2009-04-19T00:46:00.001-10:00

Your Catfish Friend
by Richard Brautigan

If I were to live my life in catfish forms in scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by one evening when the moon was shining down into my dark home and stand there at the edge of my affection and think, "It's beautiful here by this pond. I wish somebody loved me," I'd love you and be your catfish friend and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind and suddenly you would be at peace, and ask yourself, "I wonder if there are any catfish in this pond? It seems like a perfect place for them."

2009-04-19T00:39:00.002-10:00

i have not been doing the things that make me happy.

In Portland, I would drive an hour just to look at the ocean for a few minutes. Now, I live so close and I only really see it from my lanai. Writing has always been like breathing, and I can feel how stifled my soul is lately. Small, OCD-Dana things have fallen by the wayside, too.

I know why, in some senses. And I know that I need to remember how to sing to my soul again.

2009-04-16T18:24:00.001-10:00

new employer=hack.

now to find another job!

2009-04-14T02:14:00.001-10:00

p.s. i love the little surprises life throws your way, if you're paying attention.

2009-04-14T02:09:00.002-10:00

the greek place down the street might be my favorite place right now. Tonight, got called in as they were closing. They fed me some of their wonderful food, one of the men bought 2 6-packs just because I said I'd like a beer, and I spent over 2 hours with Francois, just talking about life. I think that place was put there by heaven, just for me.

easter

2009-04-13T01:04:00.002-10:00

got off to a shaky start. But, had delicious dinner at a friend's apartment with other friends, watched HBO special on slam poetry, and day ended wonderful. Brought new friend along. He's sweet. It's nice to meet good men.

2009-04-11T00:45:00.000-10:00

it smells like rain and tea tree. Like Australia.

I miss travel.

Dear Lord

2009-04-07T00:28:00.002-10:00

it has been far too long since i've taken time to sit with you. Maybe you have an opinion on all this.

2009-04-06T13:37:00.003-10:00

what's with all the crazy killings lately??

The NY deal, the Pittsburgh deal, the crazy dad deal... and then a shooting and a stabbing in Honolulu last week. All that in one week. Not to mention all the reports I'm hearing lately of people being stabbed and killed out here... normally it's pretty safe. It was rated the safest big city in the US this year.

But, everyone's going to crazy in a hand basket, so I guess it's all to be expected...

In a completely unrelated note, a power cord outside my window caught fire on Saturday. I got to call the fire department and everything. Don't worry, no one was hurt.

(btw: photo by my favorite photographer: arno rafael minkkinen. Amazing. Check him out.)

2009-04-03T13:34:00.002-10:00

first: i'm going to be an aunt! Garrett and Cami are getting their baby from Ethiopia, little Fikadu. They think he was born on March 13th, and he was abandoned on the street, but he's so big (over 8 lbs) and perfect.

second: we just went to the humane society and I am IN LOVE with the puppies. Especially the big beautiful husky/malimute who wouldn't stop howling, and the little tiny rotweiler puppy who wouldn't stop licking my hand.

third: i went to a poetry slam last night and it was wonderful.

fourth: i need to find a place to live. again.

2009-03-29T11:52:00.002-10:00

watched buena vista social club last night, and it was lovely. Today, I am stressed and overwhelmed. That is all.

2009-03-28T16:53:00.003-10:00

not knowing who i was made for an odd, misplaced day yesterday. Until Tamika, Char, Theo, and Travis all met up at 39 Hotel, and we just talked and laughed all night. I ran into my friend the Captain. It is always good to see him. I have more fun with him than... maybe than anyone else. We click. He's moving in with his girlfriend and a few other people, and seemed happy about it. He texted me as he was leaving, and later in the evening, saying it was great to see me and asking: "boyfriend?" I didn't respond.

I've decided to date again, after taking a break. I think I'm going to dinner with a friend/guy tomorrow, and then next weekend I have plans to meet up with a sweet, pierced, rocker guy that I haven't seen in ages. I love dates. Should be fun.

I'm at CoffeeTalk. The people in the room I'm in are speaking Hawaiian. I want to stay just to be surrounded by the language. It's beautiful.

2009-03-27T13:32:00.002-10:00

i dreamt that carol didn't know where she was. She woke up and was lost, and I could hear her wondering out loud where she was from my room. Then I woke up. For a good amount of time, I had no idea who I was. I didn't know where I was, what day it was, what I had to do... the only thing I knew was that the room I was in was mine. Everything else? No clue. I almost walked outside to ask my roommates. Eventually, though, I remembered. Never happened to me before.

complaining

2009-03-26T22:41:00.004-10:00

most of you can skip this bitch-fest.

I am a patient woman. Of all things that I'm bad at, patience isn't one of them. That said, I'm beginning to lose that. Being without electricity is a surprising hindrance. One that I thought wouldn't be a bad deal, but now it's been 9 days and it's a pain. I'm tired of hauling the extension cord in and out, of not being able to close my door most of the time, of not being able to run multiple things at once.

The bathroom has always been gross--mold on the ceiling and spiders in the shower--but it was doable before. In and out. But now it won't drain and cloudy water fills up beyond our ankles and sits there for hours on end. Snaking, bleach, plunging... nothing makes it better anymore.

We can't tell how hot the oven is, only 2 burners work on the stove, and ants thread their way through all parts of the house--up the bathroom walls, across counter tops, along my floor--without a necessary food source in sight.

We received a 45-day notice that we have to move out. All these things considered, odds are they've realized the house is illegal and need to make renovations sans occupants. The letter gave no explanation, legally they didn't have to. But I don't want to live here for 2 months with a backed up drain and outlets that spark, when they work at all. I love living here, honestly, despite the fact that the floors only stay clean for a day after you hands-and-knees scrub them and that someone put up cardboard to cover the termite-eaten walls. I love the view, the lanai, and that the wind is sweet. Mostly, I love the people. I don't want to move, even though I'm oddly excited about it. I'm just frustrated with the current conditions.

In the next 45 days I have to finish my thesis, get a job, and find a place to live. Completely doable. Someone needed to light a fire under my ass--a job I used to do myself, but haven't done lately.

I've been using the word "frustrated" a lot recently. But now, I'm not as much frustrated as I am pissed-and-therefore-taking-care-of-shit. Maybe slightly less patient because I don't have a lot of time for bullshit. Don't have time to spend wasting. Feels good.

End of complaining. We now return to your scheduled Daily Life.

2009-03-23T20:01:00.001-10:00

jesus could, really, be considered The Undead, couldn't he?? :) Zombie extraordinaire.