An American Rose Called by Any Other Name...

I'm about to ruffle some feathers and it's about time. An Anglo told me that they did not want to offend me but they were confused why some of us are Black and some of us are African-American.

BLACK PEOPLE and ALL People of Color born or naturalized in this country are AMERICANS. PERIOD.

I am an AMERICAN...just look at my passport. Everywhere in the world that I have traveled to, people said, "Oh, you are an American." That's right. No Hyphenated Bullshit.

I recognize that the whites are calling themselves American and NOT a Hyphen American label but ALL the People Of Color are put in a hyphenated category. This has nothing to do with being PC. The MAN has categorized you, AGAIN.

Marinate That Part.

Africa is a continent not a country.

Enslaved Africans were INTENTIONALLY mixed up so they could no longer communicate with their own countrymen in their native languages. So those DNA kits will typically list more than one African country of your ancestry. Ol' Massa raped our African mothers so you most likely have some of his this and that in the mix.

My grandparents (with the exception of my white grandfather) were called "Colored" and born in America.

My parents were called "Negro" (Spanish for Black, also used in slave records) and born in America.

My American birth certificate identifies me as "Negro".

They have labeled us since they brought us here.

I am an American.

I am of one race - Human - and of Mixed Ethnicities.

I identify with my Black Heritage, and acknowledge my European and Native American Heritages.

IMO that hyphen is just another way to separate us from them. It is the new slave label as far as I'm concerned. I have pissed off a lot of Black folks who wave their AA flag proudly, especially when I query where exactly did their people come from. The majority of us do not know and it's not our fault. They are appalled when I say that I am not African-American. They think it has to do with my complexion but it does not. They think I am not proud of my roots for saying such. That is not my narrative.

I grew up with older cousins, fists in the air, voicing, "Say it loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud. Baby, can you dig it?" I am in every sense of the word Black but my Nationality is American.

I know that there are SOME true African-Americans here like President Barack Obama... father from Africa and mother from America. But you don't know anyone's ethnicity just by looking at them. Go to any country, and no matter what people look like, they identify with their NATIONALITY. This New World country was built with the blood of slavery, and this racism will be not be fully dealt with until each and every one of us is finally acknowledged for who we truly are. AMERICANS.

Baby, can you dig it?

memoir: solo celebrating in paris

I went to Paris for my birthday with the intention of having my celebration at a particular restaurant. I tried using their online reservation while still in the US...no response. I tried using their online reservation when I got to Paris...no response. I walked to the restaurant to get a dinner reservation. It went like this with the maitre'd:

Bonjour! Je voudrais une réservation pour le dîner ce soir, s'il vous plaît. 
Oui madame. combien pour le dîner?
Une, Monsieur.
NON! ...shaking his head at me. 
I try again:
Je voudrais une réservation pour le dîner ce soir, s'il vous plaît. 
Oui madame. combien pour le dîner?
Une, Monsieur.
NON! ...again shaking his head at me.
Mais c'est mon anniversaire!
Oui madame. combien pour le dîner?
Une, Monsieur.
NON! ...shaking his head at me again.

So then I switched to English which I suspected he knew, and I had no intention of leaving until I got my reservation. 
Okay, it's MY birthday and I came to Paris to celebrate MY birthday HERE...and you know why I am HERE, so don't look at me like some crazy American woman because we all come HERE for the same reason. It's MY birthday!

He walks off and has a conversation with who must be the manager. They both are looking at me while speaking rapidly in French, and then finally he returns and says, Oui madame, par ici...as he starts to guide me to a table. 

I thank him then clarify that I want the table for later that evening. You should have seen his face! Mortified by my request! I explained that I have been on walkabout all day and needed to go back to my chamber de bonne to change. He points to his watch and says, Une heure! I graciously thank him again, promised I would be back in an hour...and told him it better not be a table by the kitchen. He knew what table I really wanted but it was already reserved which did not surprise me.

I returned exactly on time to the minute, and when I walked in the door, the maitre'd threw his hands out, then clasped them, and said, Mon Dieu! It was because he had not expected this crazy American to be properly dressed for dinner, including my pearls! I got the BEST table in the restaurant...better than the one I had initially wanted (where Keaton and Keanu sat)...and had the most impeccable service with each staff wishing me a happy birthday. The dinner was fabulous...the diners nearby joined in my celebration. And just as I was about to ask for l'addition, that challenging maitre'd brought me a glass of champagne for my birthday with a slight smile.

A lovely Parisian explained to me that one just doesn't dine alone in Paris because dining is SOCIAL. It's not their culture to eat out alone. So THAT was why people stopped talking and eating to stare at me when I sat at my table! At first, it was awkward but gradually I felt as if I were their queen at high court! So I learned a cultural difference (which is the sole point of traveling) but I also got my birthday wish and a celebration that I will never forget.

Flying Without a Parachute

When I returned from my escapade, I discovered a post-it note on my countdown message board from my housemate. In true educator form, the note read, "What did you learn?" Still processing through my re-entry, I was jet lagged, exhausted, and my brain was on stimulus overload, so I really had not thought much about it until prompted at the moment. The first thing that came to mind was that I was more of a Bad Ass than I had ever imagined I could be. I had finally pushed past all of my fears, doubts, and extreme shyness to find a strength in me that I did not know that I possessed. I allowed myself to release of all the things that held me back daily from fully living, and stepped out into the world. 

This was my dream trip and I had put it off for decades because I had never thought that I could do this on my own. I watched others take off in flight and my travels remained wishes in my head,  My shoes were cement blocks of fear because I could never find a travel companion to journey with. When talk of some far away place would come up in conversation, friends would always say, "Oh, we should do this...go here..." but then we never did. Life is too short. Too damn short not to live your dreams. My years seem fleeting and I knew I should not wait any longer. Time to just do it. 

I kept quiet about my plans because whenever I mentioned it, the naysayers lectured me on how dangerous the world is. I started thinking that it couldn't possibly be any more dangerous than my own homeland. You want me to live in fear? I survived and recovered from one near fatal accident all alone...but what if I had not recovered? What it I had left this place without fulfilling my desire to put stamps in my passport? What was my life about if not to live my dreams? The previous chapters of my life were all lived for someone else...family, friends, mates. It is definitely time that I live my remaining chapters for finding me and knowing who I am. 

We owe it to ourselves to travel the unbeaten path, explore the world, connect with people, immerse ourselves into the diversity of other cultures, and expand our minds. 

Do it. Be Bad Ass. Live Fearless. Just Live.

2014 - la nouvelle année

for a minute, i forgot that i had a blog. how does one do that? just shows you where my head has been. this past year i have not been myself. i felt as if i were living someone else's life. maybe that is why i haven't done any writing - creative or otherwise. but i did create an art journal. my art journal is experimental...i have been exploring with techniques and various forms of medium (acrylics, watercolors, gelatos, alcohol inks), and making note of the results and contrasts of different products and comparing brands. most of the pages that i have done are backgrounds that i will go back and write on later. some i really like more than others...these are some of the pages that i do like so far. but when you don't like a page, you can always go over it with paint or gesso and start again. it is a work in progress. just like my life.

wake up and put your big girl panties on

there is nothing like thinking that you are going to die that will wake you the hell up. happened to me over two years ago. when we are young, we really do live as if we are immortal. we think everything will be the same, and that life goes on. but then something happens like you are burying your parents in your 30s and you realize that it doesn't go on. sometimes it just comes to an abrupt dead stop. 

i then started to think that my life could end as well...at any time without warning, and i started to worry only because i had my brood to raise. i knew that if something happened to me that there would be no one to take care of them. they would become abandoned cubs in the forest. so i used to pray to my goddess to just let me live long enough that they would reach adulthood and take care of themselves...or at the very least take care of one another. and finally, when the day came that my youngest went off to university, i exhaled.

i did not have those empty nest issues you hear of from most parents. frankly, it was quite the opposite. i had prepared myself for this departure. i missed my offspring insanely, and partly didn't want them to leave but had i not raised them to be adults at some point? i had been on my own since nineteen and never looked back because i had no one to take care of me but me. so i pushed my younglings hard to become independent, maybe too hard at times...but that is how it is when you are the only parent. you are afraid to be too soft and ruin them. i was afraid of enabling them as i had seen other parents do. and after the apron strings were severed, i had to start thinking about what it was that i was going to do with my life since it had not evolved into the life i had once thought it would be.

the thing that gnawed at my soul was the fact that i did not complete university. i had a family to raise and kept telling myself "someday." it is impossible when you are juggling two to three jobs at a time, and responsible for the lives and well-being of three other humans, without any assistance of extended family or support system. you cannot even consider going to school in this situation. so the day had come to fill that desire that had been gnawing at my cerebral cortex for decades. i went back to university...and i went in fear.

i feared that my brain would not keep up. i felt stupid. i felt that i had not stimulated my brain enough because i spent the past twenty-five years in survival mode and not expanding it with enough academic information. the fears dissipated as soon as my brain woke up and recognized that this was the stuff that it really enjoyed doing. everything fascinated me and i wanted to take everything offered. three years later, i found myself in pure elation and bliss, sitting on a stage of an amphitheater in a beautiful grove of trees, decked in a black gown, mortar board, and pink flip-flops, filled with a satisfaction i had not known but heartbroken that my tribe were not there to share the moment with me. i did not just do this for me, i also did it for them.

now i was ready to take on the world. my future was filled with plans of working on my masters in education, and most definitely experiencing travel around the globe. i had discovered couchsurfing and was planning on giving myself a graduation present to italy...no point in letting all of those art history courses go to waste! but my plans unraveled with a delay of a knee surgery...followed by a near fatal auto accident that derailed my life. as i saw the speeding car heading directly for me, i remember my last thought..."oh my god, i am going to die."

i guess it just wasn't my time but there i lay strapped to a board with a c-collar around my neck being placed in a med-wagon. i had no sense of much of anything but this fact...i was alone. there was no one to come for me. in time, i was released and told that i had to be watched for the next three days. but there was no one to do that either. i lay in pain drifting in and out of drug-induced sedation unable to move. that was when i knew that i needed to wake up and drink the coffee because just smelling it is not enough.

my life spiraled downward and it was no longer the life that i knew. i discovered how easily it is to become homeless...to lose everything. i discovered that the people who flit around you when times are good are not there when times are bad. my life has been completely flipped upside down and i wondered if it would ever be right-side-up again. notice the two year gap on this blog...i could not even THINK let alone write during this period. i have been in "struggling to survive" mode with memory issues and just trying to heal for over two years. 

i am now in "put your big girl panties on and start your life anew" mode. i am going to make plans. i am going to get my life back. and i am going to make the best of it while i still have it...because life is too damn short not to LIVE.

facebooking with the homeless

being homeless is no joke. and it can happen to any of us. i know. about a month ago, it nearly happened to me. i had often wondered about the people i see begging on the streets of the bay area...wondering how did they get there in the first place. where were their families and friends? then i came close to discovering it firsthand; and that not knowing where you are going to live, well, it's a terrifying state of mind to be in. and when you reach that point, you realize you truly are alone in the world. all it takes is a bad break or two to send you there. 

like any metropolis, the homeless community is quite large in this area. upon observation, i have discovered some interesting things about the culture. i have seen men come to blows over what they claimed was their territory - the sidewalk in front of the post office for instance. i have seen one man offering to share his sandwich with another man passing by - he happily accepted it, took a bite, handed it back, and thanked him as he walked on. but the most fascinating thing to me is observing their time spent in the public library. the public library is a gathering place for the homeless public. i came upon this discovery when i moved and had to wait weeks for the quick response of the local phone company to re-connect me. well, we all have experienced the rapid actions of the phone monopoly when it comes to getting service and getting it right, so i don't think i need to elaborate here BUT...and it's a BIG BUT...after speaking to eight - yes, eight - phone employees in one single morning, and getting nowhere slow, i decided to hop on a PC at my local library (heavily armed with my alcohol wipes). 

it was on my first visit that i discovered that the homeless are on social media. yes, boys and girls, they are on facebook! one guy just looks over at the guy next to him and sees that he is also on facebook, so he says "want to be my facebook friend?" and that's how it's done. simple and to the point. i was totally amazed. as i continued with my fascination and eavesdropping, i realized that they had a serious social network going on...they were all making plans - sitting across from one another while on facebook - to get together for coffee or hanging out at the park later...truly amazing. even the mental guys talking to themselves or possibly the computer were making plans on facebook. wonder if any of them used the "events" option for this planning that was going on...hmm. i was just hoping that after a few daily trips to the library, they would not start to think of me as one of them, and start to include me in their social activities. but i started to think that the fact that i showered daily was a dead give away that i traveled in a different circle. the pungent odors that hovered around me burned my eyes as i once again cursed the damn phone monopoly.

american birthing culture

Each year, approximately four million babies are born in the United States. 92% are born in a hospital with an obstetrician in attendance; while only 8% are attended by a midwife either in a hospital, free-standing birth center, or at home vs. 70% midwife attended birth in Europe and Japan. 

America spends TWICE as much per birth than any other country in the world. The business of childbirth has become just that – a business. Three out of every four Americans becomes a parent, yet most of us know very little about the actual process of giving birth until we actually experience it. 

Media presents birth as a medical event only “safe” in the hands of doctors and the medical establishment. With all of our technological advances in science, the United States of America still ranks last among the industrialized nations in infant mortality and low birth weight – 24th in the world. Today’s educated women are concerned about childbirth with iatrogenic complications, and mortality due to over-medicalization and unwarranted procedures. 

Childbirth is not an illness but is managed as such. We must be informed of America’s current situation in order to acknowledge the social and psychological ramifications that it has on our culture. What is happening in American birth today needs to be re-evaluated before we can lower our horrific maternal and infant mortality rates, and make childbirth in this country free from unwarranted procedures and preventable casualties once again.

for love of daddy - j'adore mon pere

dad. papa. daddy. pop. dada. pere. father. whatever you called him, he is every little girl's first love...he is every little boy's first hero. in honor of all fathers we celebrate you today. i miss my daddy like crazy. he will always be the bar that all men must measure up to in my life. my dad loved my mom like she was the only woman on earth...that's the love i want. 

fathers are special beings. they leave a remarkable imprint on our lives. yes, mothers give us our lives and nurture as through it all - if we are lucky...but there is something unique about the relationship with our fathers. i wish mine was still here. he didn't say much but when he did, it came from a special place and there was a lot of thought behind it. i just wish he had told me more because now that he is gone, every word he spoke is sacred to me. i lost him way too soon. i felt exceptionally lucky because MY DAD CHOSE ME [and my mom]. she said he took one look at me - a fat and chunky baby - and it was love. he always wanted a daughter and i was the lucky girl. 

he was talented and skilled with woodworking so i had the most unique and incredible toys. when other kids got plastic rocking horses, my dad built me a wooden rocking elephant and painted her pink! he built me a play house for the backyard, and recycled a standing, wire greeting card fixture into a bird cage filled with colorful stuffed birds and a nest of easter eggs! he maintained my addiction to barbie and baseball cards, took me to disneyland whenever i wanted to go, and threw me the most amazing birthday parties. one year, he made a giant peace sign stencil and painted symbols all over the concrete of the backyard in keeping with the theme of my party. when he poured some cement in the yard, he had us put our hands and feet down so it would be like our version of grauman's chinese theater! at age 13, he made me a desk nameplate because he said i would be somebody important when i grew up. yes, i was a lucky girl. 

he passed on many years ago, but there are things about my dad i will remember like he blinked a lot, and his eyes twinkled when he laughed. when you asked how he was, his answer was always, "fair to middling." his favorite chair was the green one in the den. he would sit in it with a TV tray for his snacks and his screwdriver and watch the dodger games. and he always smelled of paint and old spice. he loved gauguin, and he painted in oil. he was a great cook. he did most of it because mama worked swing shift...so it was just the two of us for dinner on TV trays in the den. even when i was a grown woman, i would go over for dinner with dad - just the two of us - and always it was in the den on TV trays...watching the dodger games. it took me many years to realize why my dad wore old spice when there were so many other men's colognes on the market. it was because of me. it started when i was about 8 or 9. i would get my allowance money at every single holiday - his birthday, father's day, christmas - and go to thrifty drug store which was near my school, and buy a bottle of old spice for two whole dollars. i kept doing it year after year...and he would happily put it on as if it was what he really wanted. sometimes, if i had more money, i would even buy the old spice scented soap on a rope. and there i was one day, in my early 30s, standing in his green-tiled bathroom, opening the bottles of old spice and smelling them before placing them back on the counter. it was then that i had my revelation - you see, even at 30something, i was the one still buying my dad old spice on the holidays! sure, i bought him other things as well but the old spice was now coming from his grandsons.

first thanksgiving: the true story

i often wonder why we were taught things in school that just weren't true. like the first thanksgiving. we do not have thanksgiving day in honor of natives and pilgrims having a feast together as friends. that's a load of crap. it's true that native chief massassoit, squanto, and samoset, and their men brought food to the starving and desolate european colonists, but that is not what was behind the initial proclamation of thanksgiving day. 

it has been documented that thanksgiving day as proclaimed by general washington, was a day for fasting and praying. yes, i wrote "fasting" not gorging ourselves on an abundance of food. in fact, thanksgiving day occurred more than once a year...individual colonies had their own thanksgiving days set aside for prayer and fasting. they also claimed thanksgiving day when adopting state constitutions, and honoring military victories. yes...even military victories over the indigenous people they stole land from, as well as against the brits. for example, a thanksgiving celebration was held in december 1777 nationwide throughout the colonies to commemorate british general burgoyne's surrender. so let's call this for what it truly is, big family gathering over dinner day. happy family dinner day to you!

insomnia sux

i have serious sleeping issues. so normally i go to bed at this time but for some bizarre reason i was exhausted two hours ago. so i crashed and burned. next thing you know, i am wide awake like it's the middle of the next day. i really tried. i tossed and turned, and then my head started going all over the place and i was thinking way the hell too much about everything. i just couldn't turn my brain off. and the most bizarre thing is that i had no coffee today. the thing about coffee...i never drank a cup of joe my entire life, up until two years ago. i always loved the smell of the wicked brew, just never had a taste for it. see, it was J3's fault. he was a barista boy at starbux his last summer here, and got me to drinking this stuff. it is an acquired taste, and now that i've acquired it, i drink it quite often...with lots of sugary syrups and whip because I don't like it on it's own. supposedly, it's good for women...but who really knows? one of my little rewards for going to starbux is those free itune cards you get there. it's most definitely a v. cool way to expand your music exposure to people you might not have ever thought to bother to listen to. so i go into starbux yesterday, and they shout out my name as they start my double tall white chocolate mocha with whip before i even make it to the register...i feel like norm on cheers...and then after i pay, i go to the pickup side to get my itunes card and my beverage. i am like one of pavlov's dogs, i've been so conditioned. but then the last couple of times i went in...there was no itunes card! and i'm like, dude! what's up with this? you're holding out on me! and they're like, we'll put them back out next month. the manager thought he would soften the blow with a free slice of pumpkin loaf. but somehow that just didn't make up for it...as much as i enjoyed that tasty slice of autumn bread, i was unsatisfied and wanted my itunes. they just didn't get the signifigance of this interuption of my routine. not cool at all. they broke our bond. so now i have no other choice but to visit another location and get my music fix in the meantime. okay...now what...i am still wide awake, trying not to think of anything, and knowing that nothing is open this time of the morning...not starbux...not even a bar...so there is no point of leaving the flat. where do the night people go on a wednesday at 2:30am?

living in the hood

i moved here some years ago at the urging of a friend. i knew that i had to get the hell out of seattle as soon as i could sell my house, and was planning on returning to my native city of angels, but thought i would give the bay area a try first before heading south. this is an interesting little town that i live in. it has a nasty rep for crime but knock on wood, this neighborhood hasn't had any real issues. it also has an amazing history as a shipyard town during WWII, and home of rosie the riveter. i had moved in with my friend for about 3 weeks when a flat opened up two doors down. so i hurriedly moved into it mainly out of convenience...plus my friend was running short on hospitality. that whole "will and grace" thing just didn't work for us.

the place looked alright upon first inspection but after i moved in, i discovered what a hell hole it really was. i even shared a common wall with a witch. no, i am not being polite and meaning she is a bitch. she is both. i have nothing against what people practice but to make matters worse, she is psychotic and very nasty. six cats, mind you. she is by no means a delightful edie beale but it's freakin "gray gardens" over there. when she opens her door, you just want to pass out. she has on numerous occasions banged on my door with a variety of multiple personalities. one day she decided to drive into my parked car. let's just say, it's been pure entertainment at it's worse.

the landlord is a slumlord. there is no insulation so it is either freakin freezing or horribly hot. the windows need caulking because when they are closed, my draperies move with the drafts. the doors need weather stripping because you can see outside around the frames. one day, my son saw light coming up through the cracks of the floor. honestly, the place needs to be torn down. it's the eyesore of the block. i meant to move a couple of years ago but i was injured so that put my entire life on hold.

so anyway, you know how they say how things happen as they are suppose to happen? well, for some bizarre reason, without any plans to move, i moved. and i hate moving more than anything which probably explains the complacency of living in the pit for so long. following my intuition, i just happened to find a place - 12 blocks over - without looking, and two days later i was signing a lease. two days after that, i was moving! this place is the polar opposite of the hell hole that i had been living in.

ah, the creature comforts...dual paned windows, carpeting, central heat...what more could a girl ask for. as scarlett o'hara once said, "as god is my witness, i will never go to bed cold ever again." okay, so she didn't exactly say that, but i have never gone to bed hungry. you get what i mean.

medical madness

physicians can be patriarchal misogynists. alright. yes, i know there are exceptions...but very few. you can count them on one hand and still have fingers leftover. why is that? where does this arrogant attitude start...in medical school? or is it that they were born that way, and by coincidence, decided to go into the medical profession for the big bucks?

i am so overdone with the god complexes. i am so overdone with scaring women into unnecessary procedures because they will financially profit from it at her expense. i am so overdone with their lies.

i was violated by a doctor. that never goes away. and because he is a doctor, he got away with abusing his "power." something needs to be done about this patriarchal medical practice that we have here in the states. what happened to wellness, and wanting to heal and save lives?

it just angers me every time i hear a story of doctor abuse. so thus my rant here. my doctor-friend laughed when i said "doctors are assholes" to her...she knew exactly what i was talking about. they know what they are. educate yourself, and if it doesn't feel right, move on. there are many of them out there. it may take awhile but you can find one that does truly care about people, and will actually respect you. all i want is a doctor who SEES ME as a person, not as a case. it's medical madness.

trick or treat

so i came across this photo taken when i was like six years old on halloween. when i was a kid, they had those plastic masks with the elastic band that goes around the back of your head. most years i was some form of a white girl. it was either that, or an animal, like a cat or a rabbit, or a cartoon character, like casper the friendly ghost. in this photo, i am heidi, with long yellow yarn braids, and a swiss miss dress and cap. my sidekick is dennis the menance. 

i remember the first year that i didn't wear a mask. i wanted to be a wahine. i wore a little hawaiian print dress, with a plastic lei around my neck, and a plastic flower behind my ear. i even had these outrageous plastic eyelashes...which meant i could not see very well as they were cumbersome, and i stumbled about that night from house to house. the thing that really sucked was that it was cold that year and my mother made me wear a coat so you couldn't see my costume. 

when i got back home with my loot, my adult cousin (who was more of an older brother) would "inspect" my candy. of course, this meant him taking all the candy he liked for himself. he would say things like, "oh, this kind is NOT good," and then he would pocket it. there is something about spreading the contents of that bag of candy all over the living room carpet and going though it. kinda like grabbing the loot that fell from a broken piñata at a birthday party. this kind of acquisition of candy makes it much more valuable than buying it from the drug store. 

when i was in my 20s, i still liked dressing up. okay, call it what it was...cosplay! my favorite character was some form of royalty...anything to wear a tiara. then ballerina. one year i was a baby wearing a giant diaper and bib...even had a giant pacifier and giant diaper pins. as the years went on, it was easier to just put on a little black dress and a witch's hat. i was too busy to make costumes for me since i was busy making costumes for my kids. no plastic faces and crappy hot synthetic outfits for my kids...i was the overachiever mom. so we had peter pan, captain hook, the flinstones, luke skywalker, ghostbusters, ghosts, robin hood, cowboys, pee wee herman, superman, and pinocchio, to name a few...but my very best favorite...roger rabbit. 

i know that there are people who don't let their kids participate in halloween because they are against it for religious reasons. but personally, i think running up and down the street, giggling and laughing your head off while in dress up clothes, and getting all the free candy you can in a single night, is a pretty fun thing for kids to do. one of those things that they will remember when they are older and feeling nostalgic...or had just come across a random photo of a halloween past. to me, it's just like christmas...santa has nothing to do with bebe jesu...it's just about letting your imagination live freely.

2 busy 2 blog

okay. so i have been uber busy lately with midterms, projects, and throwing an event...also known as too busy to blog! happy that the event is over, i was exhausted but before i could catch my breath i then remembered that i was having a house guest! he isn't any trouble at all but still that means planning stuff to do...and then doing it! we did have a couple of lazy moments in between. we're not crazy. it was great having him here though...it is like that when you are with someone you have known since first grade...really great. 

but i had previous plans to go the cinema with like 20 women from a girlfriends meetup group, and i didn't want to leave him alone. contacted the organizer to bail but she said to have him come with. now at first i thought, poor guy...all of these women! clearly, that was my woman brain talking because his man brain responded with, "awesome!" LOL 

anyway, it was a good time, and he had quite the advantage. we went to see "couples retreat" at the alameda theater which i had never been to. one of those gorgeous old theaters that someone was smart enough to save and restore it's architectural integrity. and what was really cool was discovering the little wine shop right next door...you can drink wine and eat cheeses before or after the movie or both! v. cool. we had a pinot noir that melted in your mouth like chocolate...it was warm and yummy, and labeled hitching post. i highly recommend it, now seriously thinking i need to go back and pick up a bottle. or two. cin cin!

despite that wild and crazy rain storm we had on tuesday, there has been sun all week...and today was no exception...a picture perfect october summer day. we rolled over the bridge to marin county and hit the coast...most excellent day for being on the beach. the sand was warm on my feet. the sky clear. the waves stellar. i counted 25 surfers. it was excellent. would have liked to have stayed out there all day but we had another scheduled meet up over in emeryville. meeting up with friends is always a good thing. 

duties of a debutante

i have been pulling myself into multiple directions as of late. and was really looking forward to a bonfire on the beach tonight but the winds changed our plans for us. i am so tired - like dogass find me a spot in the sun to lie in tired - that i can't think, never know what i want to eat, and certainly can't sleep. it is midterms already and i am losing track of time. my plate is full and i just added on another two courses to the meal...yikes! what am i thinking when i continue to take on these projects?

so now i am planning an event...it is a black and white ball. still working on venues, menus, music, decorations, and all the details...but most definitely have this dress in mind. after all, is it not all about the dress? when it comes to formal events that provide me an opportunity to add to my collection of organza, silk, tulle, brocade, and lace floor length costumes, i am as excited as a regency character in a jane austen novel with a dance card. "why of course, mister bingley, you must throw a ball!" because janeites know that dancing is recommended to encourage affection.

g-friends, BFFs, and stalkers, oh my

when i was a young girl, my g-ma said that you should only be able to count your friends on one hand. she had three. the cute thing was they all had names that started with an M. my g-ma outlived two of them, but i remember when marge died. it was like my g-ma had lost her sister. she was devastated. 

i have had some interesting encounters with women over the years who claimed to be my friend, or insinuated themselves into my life because they wanted to be my friend. they did not have a clue to what the word friend means. the thing these women did have in common, was they drove the knife in deep when you least expected. they made it their business to be in my business so that they could talk about me. they were haters. they were stalkers. funny how they did not realize that i knew who and what they were. it's good to know who your enemies are. 

i love my girlfriends. you can't go through life without your girlfriends. when wonderful things happen to you, they are thrilled and excited and will celebrate with you. when you take on a new venture, they support you and pull out the safety net just in case. when you look like hell after three days of labor, they tell you that you are beautiful, bring you flowers, and change your baby's diaper. when you're trying on a dress and the salesgirl tells you it's great on you, they will tell you to put on a girdle cuz your ass is big as a bus in that dress. when that man breaks your heart, they are there for you with tissues, chocolate, wine, and a funny ass movie. and when you need an extra pair of eyes and ears, they will help you mother your children. girlfriends love and accept you just the way you are. 

i have an urban family...my village. these are the friends that are related to you even though not by blood. some knew you back in the day...and others meshed with you more recently.  some that are still there after decades have passed, and you've made a lifetime of memories together. those for real friends that you have reached this level of comfort and connection with that no one else gets. the ones who truly truly truly know and understand you. the ones that never leave no matter what because you are family. blood brothers and sisters without the need to pierce the skin. and yes, i do believe in multiple BFFs because i have them. they are each unique and beautiful and amazing. i love them better than siblings. and yes, i can count them on one hand.

sometimes a girl just wants to wear boardshorts

my search for boardshorts was getting me huhu. i stopped wearing bikinis about four years ago, but the one piece is not comfortable even when they are sized "tall". then finally, someone got smart and started making boardshorts for girls. but tiny girls. ugh. i had no luck finding normal or average sizes even when searching online. none at all.

on my first holiday to hawai'i, i was certain to find boardshorts in a local surf shop so no worries, right? that was what i thought. i was running into the same issue over there...like sizes 0 - 9! GMAFB [if you are a 0, your ass shouldn't be in boardshorts anyway. go get you something to eat and put some normal weight on.] so like don't they get it that the healthy girls don't always want their butts hanging out? well, after hitting up every surf shop on waikiki and over on the north shore, i was pretty frustrated. if roxy can make t-shirts and hoodies in my size...why not boardshorts?

so i started talking to the local girls working in the shops in hale'iva, because let's face it, hawai'ian sisters are healthy girls. i'm like, "sister, what is up with these tiny little sizes in the stores? hawai'ian women are healthy...where do you local girls get your boardshorts? i see the surfer girls have them, so i know someone is selling them."

this is what they all told me...the surf shops are primarily owned by chinese who don't even consider women bigger than them when ordering clothing for their stores. for them the shorts are fashion so they don't consider the sizes of the girls out there who are actually working the waves, right? that's just crazy. the exciting thing was that i did find out where healthy local girls get their board shorts...the aloha bowl swap meet! that place is not to be missed for one thing because everything you could possibly want is there!

so i was huhu no more when i found my shorts! i just love them and bought a few in different colors, too! boardshorts are the best alternative to bikini bottoms. trust me.

something i wrote...

i was contemplating on what i would write about today but i do not have much time. i have a huge assignment to work on, and then i have to get my yoga practice in. so i decided that i would post something that i wrote previously, as i have a lot of these tidbits stashed on my computer or scribbled in a journal. here it goes:

couples day

no, there is no special sales reward if you show up as a couple at our store...it's just that today, there seemed to be a great wave of couples, more so than usual. generally, they are young ones...just starting out, fresh looks on their faces, armed with their lists to select items for their wedding registry. or the ones that have been in it a few years, still trying to figure one another out and what is marriage really about, he's pushing a stroller, or she's ripe as a summer peach and round as a basketball. that's the general population i deal with in my position as a design studio specialist...the girl who gets to sit on sofas with you, gives you fabric samples, questions your lifestyle, and then tells you exactly what you need so you are no longer confused and terrified about buying your first piece of real adult furniture. that's me.

but today was different. today my couples were my age and older. they were seasoned veterans of love, with years of partnering shoulder to shoulder as they faced life's ups and downs. that's who was out shopping today. and they all wanted to talk to me. not the other younger associates. it was if i were a magnetic force they gravitated to. especially since i was not close to the entrance, they certainly had been asked if they needed help by at least 3 - 4 others before happening upon me.

each couple was unique but the same. i saw in each one of them what happens when you share your life with your best friend. and as we spoke, i was both engaged in conversation with them - graciously included in their humorous comments about each others shopping habits, and how they both don't always like the same thing - as well as a spectator to their intimate banter...their own personal language, their secret code. i often witness this and find it fascinating and delightful...yes, to be able to find that secure niche in your relationship with someone who loves you back just for who you are must be a wonderful thing.

the circumstances of this particular couples day all seemed too coincidental. unusually so. is the universe trying to tell me something? perhaps. undoubtedly, after the fifth couple, i began to believe someone had a message for me. is it because i generally question myself on the practically of believing in the idea of finding love and sharing a life with my best friend?

such foolishness; it's late. i should stop thinking and send my brain to slumber.

*12.17.2006*

beauty and the beach

so i actually should be writing an essay but my professors encourage free writes to stimulate your flow...so here i am blogging for inspiration, of all things.

i woke up cold this morning and can't seem to shake the chill. i had breakfast - shredded wheat and banana; and now waiting for the sun to burn off the morning fog so i can go outside and seek a bit of warmth del sol. i am sitting here wishing that i was on the north shore...i hear the honu [that's sea turtles for you mainlanders] calling my name. i belong on the beach. it is my true bliss.

it started when i was a child...those beach days when my parents would fill up the wicker picnic basket and throw it into the car trunk along with blankets, my pails, shovels, and assorted items. those were happy times. here is dad and mom looking ultimately cool on santa monica beach. i took this snap of them when i was about six years old.

as the years passed, i soon began to take the big blue bus out to the santa monica pier on my own. i was a wanderer then...always looking for a place of solitude. on the not so warm days i would seek solace in a dark theater, otherwise, weather permitting, i found my happiness sitting on the warm sand staring out into the sea. the sounds of the ocean lulled me into a peacefulness...my escape from the disturbances at home. i lived in a fantasy world those days on the beach...imagining myself in the middle of a beach party or gidget movie...where everyone sang, danced, and surfed their way to a happy ending.

when i got the keys to my first ride - a `69 mustang [i AM a california girl!] - there was not a beach that i had not combed between san pedro to ventura. i found hidden coves and nude beaches. i found the locations for those gidget and beach party movies that i grew up on. i even found my first love playing in the sand in playa del rey. yes, just like in the movies, this gidget found her moondoggie on the beach! i would spend entire days on the beach until the sun was lost beyond the sea's horizon. the beach was the backdrop to all of the adventures of my youth. this beach bunny eventually became part of a cluster of teens who thought life was about nothing but hanging out on the beach. no matter where our group started out that day, somehow all roads led us to the ocean.

the ocean is powerful...i both love and fear it's amazing strength. when my feet are immersed into the wet sand, and the water envelopes my legs, i feel like i am sinking, connecting to the earth. i am in a state of bliss.

in the more recent years, i have discovered other beaches beyond the familiarity of my southern california coast....more tropical...balmy breezes, warmer waters, different sand composition. it started when a friend had asked me to accompany her on a dive trip in the bahamas...my first experience with a turquoise sea and white sand. the water was crystal clear...it blew me away. i spent 7 out of 8 days just lying out, absorbing the beach, and one day with my friend on the dive boat. it was beach therapy, and my first actual holiday in adult life.

as beautiful as the caribbean is, it is hawai'i that i truly fell in love with. it is my true love...and it is not just the beauty of the islands...the lush greenness of the mountains, the red earth of the country, the bluest of skies, the clearest of water, the trade winds in my hair, the sun bronzing my skin, or the food that takes me to heaven...it is the people who inhabit it. it is their aloha spirit. the connection was so incredibly intense when i was at kukaniloko. i couldn't describe it but i knew i had been there on that very spot in another life while babies were being born. i felt a sense of ohana; i belonged there, so easily connected with the people of the islands. it was my home.

when i was a little girl, i used to dream that i was living on an island in the pacific, in a beach hut on stilts over a dolphin filled lagoon...and maybe i did in a previous life because it is here in the pacific that my spirit felt the sense of belonging. i can't explain it to you any other way than that. the first time that i was on o'ahu, i knew that i had been there before. when i returned, i realized that my spirit was connected to this place. i am a pacific island girl...i need to explore this further...perhaps tahiti...moorea...fiji...

so now you get why i am happiest when playing on the beach. i would be completely content if i spent the rest of my days wearing board shorts and slippahs. of course, i could wrap a pareo around me for those special occasions. aloha.

dude, i totally forgot

dude, i so totally forgot to say it was my uncle's birthday today...may he RIP and his music live on forever!

happy birthday, uncle jelly roll!