away we go

More Love Hours Script

2011-12-23T20:10:00.000-08:00

In the chaos of the public service desk at the downtown library, he turned to me and said, "You and I are dinghies in a stormed tossed sea, surrounded by ships that are going down. I hate that kind of responsibility."

I got it, cause we were in it.
But then I realized...that's exactly the kind of responsibility I need.

I want to write from a root.
I want to know what is stable and go from there.
I want to find what is stable, or else I will invent it.

I tried that before. It only lasts so long.
Ideas eventually get stripped down and freed from their examples.
Sometimes I can meet them there, and let them go.
Sometimes I can't get rid of them no matter what I do.

You and I are dinghies in a storm tossed sea, surrounded by ships that are going down. I love that kind of responsibility.

Of course...everything that happened in my life, affects everything that's happening in my life, and your life too. Including this.

I remember the shift.
I remember realizing that I wasn't just living the history of time, but also the history of thought.
The history of energy.
The history of pain and release.

You and I were a ship on some kind of sparkling sea, surrounded by dinghies, glinting. You no longer accept that kind of responsibility.
But after you go, you are still here.
In my memory.
In my body.
In my songs.
In my stories.
Do you think abandoning us makes the world well?
Or are you just quietly trying to get out of bed in the morning?

I'm trying to get out of bed too.
Some people call it a miracle.
Let's meet them...

The sister: "I know you only moved in here to use this new sink faucet, and I'm okay with that."

The brother: "Oo wow oo wow oo wow oo wow. oo wow oo wow oo wow oo wow."

The mother: "I know you said this relationship was bad for me, but I think I had to figure it out for myself. I think it had to come from me. I guess I'm stronger than I thought."

The daughter: "I just wasn't expecting to need this kind of patience. Ten years. Sometimes that's the speed. Ten years."

The friend: "There's something wrong with my body, and I don't know what it is. I went to the doctors before, but they couldn't really get it. It happened to me last year, and I'm having similar symptoms. I lost a lot of weight, and felt tired all of the time."

The friend: "Oh. That's scary."

Are you trying to get out of bed in the morning? We could start from there every time.
Shit. Some of my friends will be in prison for the rest of their lives.
We can start from there every time.

But you showed up! I showed up!
I think we are being courageous.

I really like showing up.
I also really like driving the bus.
I like having that kind of control.

Unless it's a standard.
Then I realize that I still have a lot of growing to do.
Like I still need to learn how to tell stories with emotion.
And I still need to learn how to tell you that, "I was a bully once," without you thinking I am a bully. I trust we'll figure it out.

Because you and I are dinghies in a storm tossed sea and here we are.
And you always want to discuss serious things. And I do too.

And I think we are also the ships.
And I think we are also the sea.

And we love.
We can still love.

Fall Back

2011-10-31T12:02:00.001-07:00

Something I've been saying and asking a lot lately is, "I didn't see this for my life." Or, "Did you imagine this for your life?" I think it came from B on the phone, being like, "I don't know how I got to this point. Well, I know how I got to it but sometimes it seems a little funny. Like if a person gets abused at a prison, why should I be the person to get a phone call? What?"

This weekend was great. I drove a twelve person van through a snowstorm to Harrisburg for the PA Conference Against Torture, and spent all the time around that planning and executing a brunch for 20 people. It was an effort in endurance. I got a lot of love and support the whole way. That old thing about feeling cared for because we exist and we are together.

I'm having a really nice time. I'm having a great time even. I just didn't see this for my life.

One thing I was thinking about after driving the van, and pulling a marathon day, and making jokes about Trucksville, was the things that I can do. Sometimes I can't get everything done. Sometimes I can't do anything. Sometimes I can't respond to a pen pal for weeks, or make a single phone call, even though I think about it every day. Sometimes I think about the skills I have and the skills I don't have and wonder about the things I can do and if I need to be knowing something I don't know.

One thing I CAN do is be on time. One thing I CAN do is show up. I can always show up. I can always show up, and I can always drive the bus.

Tools for Brains and Hearts

2011-10-19T10:50:00.000-07:00

I've got a new tool for keeping sanity during obsessive times. When I am obsessing over something or someone, usually a person or crush, I find myself having endless conversations with them in my head. It's really draining and troublesome because it takes me out of my body, and is opposite to my valuing mutuality as a process and conclusion. It makes me feel like I'm doing this one sided thing, like I know things, like I am figuring things out without the other person. No thanks. My new tool for when this is happening is saying outloud to stop the internal rummaging, "I'm not having this dialogue." Sometimes I say, "I'm not having this dialogue right now." It's really on point. It interrupts the silent flow of thoughts with a verbal thing I can hear and get, and also draws attention to the fact that I do not want to be having a "dialogue" by myself. It's good.

My best tool for aligning brains and hearts lately (probably up there in the top ten) is: "that's happening." I have been saying this more, and more and people have been recognizing and responding. The basic gist is to verbalize things that are happening in my brain, to bring out and acknowledge what I'm feeling, share it, and move on. It frees up room for being present without taking over, because its just a shoutout, not a topic of conversation. Hooray for tools. Hooray for this. Hooray for you and me.

When Things Return

2011-10-13T09:35:00.000-07:00

Today I went to work and found a sweatshirt I had categorized as "lost for good" hanging on a hook in the coat room. I have been to the coat room two times a week, every week, for the past long time. I went into Fall thinking I had a shortage of hooded sweatshirts, that my two favorite patched-up-grays were gone, and I hated it. I hate losing things because I try not to have anything I don't love. Also I feel disoriented when I lose things because I don't understand where they could have gotten to.

I think the sweatshirt was there all along. Tom said maybe it was one of those things where when you need it most, you find it or can see it. I wanted to pretend that someone had taken it home and used it and then returned it, but I don't know who has the slyness to do something like that here.

While I was working, something else returned to me. There's a children's book that caught my eye, called Unite or Die. It's about the thirteen colonies coming together to bring about the American Revolutionary War. "Unite or Die", "Unite or Die", why did that sound familiar? Oh yes, I remember.

I went to hear Angela Davis speak in New York this summer, in a room of 2,000 prison abolitionists. There were two other speakers, including Vijay Prashad, talking about why we need change now. Prashad's work focuses on the effects of a global economy on people around the world. I am currently reading his book The Darker Nations: a People's History of the Third World. It's really hard to parse out. It's really dense and hard to hold. But the easiest thing to grab on to, that Prashad emphasized again and again during his 15 minutes was, "We need to love one another or die." We need to love one another or die. It's that simple. I'm glad I came back to that.

Too Much Doubt

2011-09-26T08:15:00.000-07:00

When they killed Troy Davis, I didn’t recover. I read the news for one thing. I saw the pictures of people weeping on the ground outside of the prison. I wept in my lover’s bed because too much is happening.

The radio said that Martine Correia fought for ten years, working through breast cancer, to get her brother free. I heard the woman whose husband died expected peace to come from the execution. Expected to find closure and give condolences to the Davis family because now they would know her loss. They would finally know her pain. I wondered how that distance is created and maintained. Why the sister can’t go to the wife and say “I see you and our pain has always been the same. We are in this together, you know? The enemies we have chosen are not even the enemies. The enemies are bigger than you or I or him or us. The enemy is the distance between.”

All year, some friends worked on building a garden across the street. They named it Crashed Cart community garden because these shopping carts kept ending up there. It’s really big and beautiful, and wedged between two houses with enough space for the sun to shine down. There is a pile of squash sitting on the cupboard, waiting for Tuesday’s feast. All the neighbors were invited to share in the harvest of the first year. Beans, corn, carrots, onions, green on top of green on top of green. Some things are below the ground, and some things stand tall in the open. There are beds laid out with bricks, and trees being tended, and sunflowers, and vines crawling up sticks and walls. Can you picture it?

The day that Troy Davis was killed, a surveyor came by the garden lot. He told Crystal that the lot had been bought and they were going to start building a house there in October, which is ten days from now.

I always thought that if we planted seeds, people could respond. Like if some kind of beautiful or real or true thing was laid out, people could respond. But it’s the distance thing. Someone came by while the veggies were ripening and thought, “I will build a house here. The land is cheap. This place is for me to have.” Like I always thought if a million people said there is too much doubt, they could respond. They could pause and question about taking a man’s life. About the bigger meaning. But it’s the distance thing. Someone believed that technicalities and legalities or making some kind of political statement was important.

That’s why I can’t recover. There's not enough of this distance work happening that I know about. I imagined painting boards that say “This lot was bought without care or notice for living things.” But it’s not really enough.

I realized what a high maintenance lifestyle I'm involved in. Always needing to tend and regroup, at any moment having to adjust, quit, start over. No matter how much energy was put in or how we thought our seeds were growing or how we thought maybe, just maybe our voices were loud enough. I reached a point a while ago, though some people (cough cough Stephanie) would say it was happening all along. At some point, I knew too many stories and I had too much information to not understand what was really happening. The total destruction and where it is all coming from. The distance.

I guess it’s funny how in times of overwhelm, my emotional response always comes back to, “well, these people are insane right? To kill these living things? To not be able to see them. They have to be insane right? They are like insane Right?

The Spectrum

2011-09-05T15:29:00.000-07:00

Dear Queens,

Now don't get me wrong, pain is relative. The amount of pain we're holding, sure it's on a spectrum. But you can't minimize it to me, and you know I won't let you. You can never minimize yourself to me, because you are all I know and we are everything.

What I am trying to say here, is that each time we find ourselves in crisis, I notice how we get out of it. We are always getting better at getting out of it. Each time we are falling, there's this little window, this little ledge that we can grab and then we are back. But we are not just back. We are better. We have all of our experiences added up and we are growing.

Today I got my first suicide note in the mail. From a stranger. He asked me to do some things for him, and told me not to worry about him, because by the time I got his letter, he would be gone. What could I do? I called Bret. He checked the website. Told me he didn't make it out. Told me the guy had been relocated to Graterford, probably some special needs mental health unit. I tried to take some comfort in that, but the problem is I know that it means nothing. I know that Secure Special Needs Unit means nothing and sometimes it means worse than nothing.

I wrote a letter to his brother cause he asked me to, then I wrote the guy back. And then I went downstairs to the photocopy machine and made a copy of my response. I wrote on the top of my letter "Sample Response to Suicide Note" so the next time someone says the words, "I just got a suicide note, like, I'm not sure how to respond", I will walk over to the file cabinet, and I will pull out my letter, and I will say, "here is what I did. Here is all I could think to do at the time but try to bring yourself to it, okay? Are you going to sign your name? If you don't think you can follow up with this person, try giving the letter to someone else or put it back in the mailbox. What do you think you should do? Do you have any ideas?"

It's hard to know. It's hard to know what to do when a stranger writes you a suicide note, and it feels insane to put my response in a file cabinet. Absolutely insane. As if we have a text book here. As if we have a process for this. But maybe the practice, the practice is what makes it all possible. For us to fall and then come back. We're getting so good at practicing falling and then coming back that it's impossible for me not to believe.

Love,
A

Career Dreams

2011-06-11T11:28:00.001-07:00

I just posted a post-it note on my wall that looks as follows:

career dreams
coro fellow app
sept
this american life
internship

Where we stand with the Bang Saga:

2011-04-12T16:43:00.001-07:00

I just got new bangs. Ocean said, "Amanda do you know your bangs are crooked? You could use a comb to straighten them out." And I said, "I don't think I have a comb." And Ocean said, "We have three combs and Ray is always wanting to get rid of one." And Jude said, "Why don't you two fight? I want to be entertained." And Ray said, "Look at that little bird." And Oshy said, "Nice subject change Ray." And O'Ryan said, "I want there to be a post-rock band that plays all of my favorite rock duet ballads." And I said, "Just you wait. Maybe it will happen." And O'Ryan said, "Maybe I could be the front man for that band." And I said, "Maybe I could be the back man. Whatever that means." And O'Ryan said, "Amanda. With bangs like that, you could do anything."

The laughing shoulders

2011-03-28T16:16:00.000-07:00

On my way to math tutoring, I was resting at a stop light next to a small bus. A group of youngish, male ish people were crowding and laughing towards the back of the bus. One boy said something to me out the window that sounded like, "You dropped your *******?" I looked down and around at the word "dropped" before realizing that the boy had told me I had dropped my "pocket." When I looked back up, the talker was not meeting my face, but the other boys were. I started to smile and laugh, and then I began laughing real dramatically with my shoulders so they would know that we were sharing it and that we were on the same side.

I'm remembering my other out the bus window experiences. One time I was walking Klemmons the Dog and a kid yelled out, "What kind of dog is that!?" And I said, "Hmmmdaknow?" And he said, "Whose dog is that?!" And I said, "Bret's!"

I think the people on the inside know that they are mostly untouchable because the light is gonna turn green and they will never see me again. Same for people in cars. There was one bad day in Lawrenceville where I got two negative hits right after the other, one being a smallish angryish 8 year old giving me the finger with a very straight face.

I smiled and waved.

The worst bus story I know is when my mom was puke sick on the delivery route and she had to puke out the van door, and the bus kids were all pointing and laughing at her. It didn't seem fair. She had no strength to retaliate. She was sick like 1 time every 5 years, and it just had to be a day she was next to the bus.

Where I'm At

2011-01-25T13:17:00.001-08:00

Recovering from a doubters fall into "this can never be possible." I always believed we were going to win. And then this happened, and this happened, and I am clawing myself back up conversation by conversation.

O'Fries is in the kitchen talking about wheatpasting, and I'm telling him the story of Ben going to the DMV where the kid found out who his Dad was from his birth certificate reprint. Yeah. He was in the office, and he called his mom and said, "Mom. This is (insert his full name). Who the hell is (insert newly discovered dad's name here)?" And it was funny because some guy in the line overheard him and said, "Oh yeah. I know that guy. He's my neighbor." And, "you look just like him."

Excuse me for a moment Bret is calling. He's choking out words cause Saundra's nephew just got shot and that makes two loves within the past few months. He asks, "How does she keep going?"

I have a suspicion and I write it to Emily in a letter. No one laughs at god in a war.

O'Fries is out, and I'm looking for an excuse to smoke a cigarette, which I fear is suicidal because they are fixing the gas line up the street. I start thinking about Sherman Alexie and The Absolutely True Diary of a part time Indian and how the 14 year old character who lives on the Spokane Indian Reservation has attended 42 funerals. Can you feel the difference?

I can only win when everyone is valuable and right now the numbers are not adding up. Queens please rise. I need to hear you laugh and say you are well.

The Singing Bridge

2010-12-17T06:54:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I was walking to work with a bag containing 1 small cake and one 50' roll of 5/8" backer rod and I thought, "ah yes, this is my life."

How do you Like me NOW?

2010-11-19T18:13:00.000-08:00

Today I was thinking of many things. One thing, was the relationship between drivers and cyclists. Things like, how that relationship is informed and how it grows or deteriorates.

Today I took this little one way street and came out on this bigger street, and when I came out on that street, there was a line of cars waiting for the red light. So I kind of maneuvered around the butt of this car and pulled up behind it, and I noticed that the person's sunglasses were sitting on the roof of his car. So I sidled his window and made a knocking motion, trying not to startle or threaten, and I said, "Are these your glassses sir?" And he responded, "Oh Thank You."

I think he knew I had found them on the roof. But I am wondering if his relationship as a driver to a cyclist has now changed.

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

2010-09-14T14:30:00.001-07:00

Today I worked at the library as a substitute, meaning I only go there for one day. I was shelving some books on CD and was having a hard time moving things around because there were these little metal shelves sticking up every 1 foot. What it looks like, is, instead of one long shelf it was a long shelf divided into 8 or so little cubby shelves. It was not good for moving things or sorting things easily.

I asked Anna how she felt about it and she said,"awful." Tony chimed in with, "Me and Chris took them off as soon as we opened up, and then we were told we had to put them back up."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Someone got paid to put them into the shelves so we have to leave them up."

And I said, "But that doesn't make any sense."

And he said, "I talked to Mary and she said we can't move them."

And I said, "So you can't move them because someone was paid money to put them in?."

And he said, "Yep. I hate them. And you have to go through four people in order to make a decision."

"BUT THAT DOESN"T MAKE ANY SENSE!" I said.

So what this translates to me is: There are people working at a place. And when they are working there, they interact with the things. They start to come to realizations about functioning ways to interact with the things. They find that when they interact with the things, some things are easy to do, and align with body and environmental needs, and some things are just confusing. And then there is this outside thing, usually a group of people who ally themselves with the identity of DoGooder that is saying, "well we made this decision, so we will go with it. Despite all the real life evidence that it is no good, and that it does not serve a purpose that is a real purpose, we will stick with it." And then the people working at the place exist in crises mode for days and weeks and even years, because they aren't meant to function in the environments they are forced to function, in but they can find no alternative that meets their needs.

Once again, the day was ruined by beauracracy, capitalism, and its fantastically heavy hand.

It's the end of the world as we know it.

Confronting Apathy

2010-07-12T14:18:00.000-07:00

Toay I went to a city council meeting about drilling of Marcellus Shale to extract Natural Gas. Flying in the face of all kinds of violence against people and the earth, all these "experts" and "representatives" of one kind or another talked about the economic benefits and job creation, without ever entertaining the idea that we didn't have to do it. That it is possible that the corporations who own these contracts to peoples land are not more powerful than us people. The experts talked about adding more safety staff members and tightening regulations. And all the environmental groups have signed on as this being the solution. And Tim who works for Penn Environment is a robot lecturing me about grassroots organizing and how this is the best solution, and I'm like, "Tim, this isn't good enough for me."

And when I went to watch movies in the park (and the movie preview showing at all the city parks), I was shown a preview of keeping Pennsylvania Rivers beautiful, coupled with believing in Marcellus Shale drilling in this weird Utopia water flowing video. At the Movie! In the Park!

Straight Bullshit. The people in North Central Pennslvania no longer have access to drinking water because their wells have been contaminated. And Mr. Trimmer says while being talked around like he was a piece of furniture by energy planning people, he heard them say, "we will tell them that our waste water deposited goes below the water table. Uh HUH. Hello!!!!!!

But what I really wanted to say at that meeting was, "IT IS OBVIOUS THAT ALL OF YOUR STAFF AND REGULATIONS ARE NOT GOING TO STOP CORPORATIONS FROM KILLING EVERYTHING." I am reassessing my place in the cold cruel world, but still not entertaining the idea of giving birth. Fumin'

Mail From the White House!

2010-06-10T10:13:00.000-07:00

Today I got mail from the white house. I was not expecting! In April I participated in the mail art for Mumia campaign. I sent Pres Obama an open faced diorama that looks like this:
In return I got a very charming form letter adressed, "Dear Students;". Oh noooooooo! Obama thinks I'm ten!

The form letter included a great speech about participation and becoming leaders. I also got an illustrated map of the white house, with a reverse side interview of the president himself. It featured all kinds of regular kid questions like: "Do you play sports?, Do you get a day off?, and Who is your best friend?" (the first lady of course!) The kid pack also includes a photograph of Obama and a family photograph with signatures printed on. So regal like! I might hang it on my wall!

At first I was amused that my project was perceived as kid stuff. And then I was thinking how, if I was ten, this white house kid pack response would be awesome! If I was ten, I might think of the president as this distant television character, and getting mail from him with all this cool info and photos, wow! But then I remembered reality through my own lens, and how as much promise as it seems, it's really a propaganda punch. Cause I don't see how United States leaders can continue to go on and on about how great America is when there is so much trauma and people hurting everyday. I believe that the suffering has come to outweigh any sense of greatness, because people, including me, are beginning to understand the consequences(e.g. oil spill, war on Irag, war on drugs, mass incarceration, JLWOP, destruction, destruction, violence, disconnected, mental health crisis) of what America stands for. And that that idea of greatness is at so much expense. And that only some people get to play anyway, cause the deck is stacked sooooooo high. So yeah. Thanks for nothing Obama, except this nudge towards blog posting.

Mom's day 2010

2010-06-08T07:36:00.000-07:00

I just had a mom's day. It involved talking with many moms on the phone. I talked with an old old wiry mom who connected with a young young scared person. I talked with a strong mom who walked the dog with me and lulled me into her house and bedroom, descibing her husband turning over and waving to her in bed. I got a text message from my own mom, in what seemed like a small reaching out. A small asking for support. A small progression. I read about Rhonshawn's mom and how his relationship with her is the foundation of our differences. I talked with O'Ryan and T about moms who are controlling in the kitchen. Don't do this, don't touch that, shut up, shut up, shut up. About the kids in the food stamp office and the library who are yelled at for everything that isn't anything. The victims and the kids of the victims. So yeah. Hooray for moms.

While cleaning out my folders at work I found this writing

2010-04-07T11:40:00.000-07:00

Instructions for the unpractical acquisition of toilet paper

Go to a Pittsburgh Pirates Game. At the end of the game, go to the bathroom and steal a roll. If you are a woman, put it under your shirt and hope that the surrounding people and potential security guards think you are pregnant. Remove the roll at the bus stop to the polite jeers of passing men saying, “ha, you stole that.” Reply accordingly. When they say “you don’t have to be ashamed,” say “I’m not ashamed.” Feel uncomfortable as they proceed to try and hit on you, using the TP theft as an opening. Get on the bus and go home. Tell your roommate about your acquiring. Listen to him say, “oh, I have been meaning to get some from my work.” Reply in a fake mean tone, “Oh. You mean that place you go everyday that doesn’t cost 16 dollars?” Walk away abruptly. But then. Feel pure delight that the roll is still around three weeks!/ four weeks! later. Fantasize about going to another game.

My last day of work was last Saturday and I felt sad cleaning out my folders and drawer. But get this! Somehow, in some way, Regina Spektor was playing outloud on the first floor for like 10 songs! Regina Spektor is my favorite singer of all now! How could this be? It was magic! I am considering it a celebration.

Priorities

2010-01-30T11:54:00.000-08:00

Today at lunch I was writing a very serious email to a state police officer. Then from the vague distance I heard a slight buzzing sound. It's January 30th! I completely forgot! Kazoo Fest 2010!

Terry gave me a kazoo at the FedUp! benefit and I really enjoy playing it. I then saw a flyer that said kazoo fest was happening in the children's library during my lunch break. But I had forgotten about it until I heard the buzz. When I heard the buzzing, I jumped up, ran past Cynthia to the puffy vest, got my kazoo out, and speed walked over to the children's room. I then did the hokey pokey, kazooed Happy Birthday to beethoven, and did an Ode to Joy. My kazoo stopped buzzing well after that. I think it needs some new wax paper.

Extraverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging

2009-12-08T13:23:00.000-08:00

Virginia asked me my Meyers Briggs personality and then Katey asked me, so I decided to take the test today. I found out I am an ENFJ which links me to being a teacher and an idealist. The best excerpt thing I read about ENFJs was, "They have tremendous charisma by which many are drawn into their nurturant tutelage and/ or grand schemes. HA! Life size chess! Every fundraiser ever!

http://typelogic.com/enfj.html

Featuring Dave's Misshaped Collection

2009-10-15T16:36:00.000-07:00

Pretty soon I will not be a monster. Pretty soon I will have short hair.

2 kinds

2009-08-13T16:30:00.001-07:00

I heard somewhere that there are two kinds of families. Those who can make it through dinner without the dictionary, and those who can't. I heard somewhere that there are two kinds of people. Those who do one something very well, and those who do a lot of things mediocre-ly. I understand that there are so many other kinds and kinds. But of these choices I am leaning towards looking up romantic while eating kale and then writing a song, zine, and four letters about the definition.

Dakota Fanning

2009-08-05T13:39:00.001-07:00

Is the most articulate celebrity in the entire world.

Break Up Letter

2009-07-25T11:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Muffins,

We have been having a few hard weeks, have you noticed? I don't know if I can do this anymore. This. You know, seeing you everyday. I am tired of my expectations not being met. When I saw you today, you looked ok, but deep down, you just aren't doing it for me. I think our relationship is over. I can't handle this kind of dissappointment. The truth is I don't need you anymore. I have found someone else. His name is water and he never lets me down. I'm sorry I had to tell you on the interwebs, I just didn't know how else to say it.

Best,
Amanda

Art All Night!

2009-06-16T15:50:00.000-07:00

We built this, but we really want to tear it all down.

Postage Stamp Potluck

2009-05-23T09:30:00.000-07:00

Etta made a rubbing of Mike's belt. She said "now I will remember this day forever." I'm wondering if this post will help me remember more vividly. I want to remember the way that Carry Carrie Kerry and Johann came in with the cake and the chi chis that I admired but did not eat. I want to remember the way Ray talked about the farm, and told his farm love letter story with a real sense of completeness that I could taste in the peaches. The way Brooke remembered an old love note and reproduced it on the spot. It had the words "I will miss touching your bum" and "I will not miss touching your bum" with illustrations. Corey and Katie thought I didn't wear skirts and I proved it to them by providing witnesses. Dave sealed the deal. Thanks Dave.

New nicknames were born and spirit animals were revealed. Bennyluv mistook Saturday for Sunday and then said, "What, you never played the old Saturday-Sunday Game?" with a mock sheesh kind of tone. Wesley was a river otter. He sat next to Heather, the wolf, who feeds me leftovers. Wesley told a story about a roommate's old girlfriend who came to the house and wrote in lipstick on the mirror, "Dear Ezra. You are an asshole, Fuck you. XOXO, name" He erased it before Ezra woke up, because he really liked Ezra. Later the roommates said, you shouldn't have erased it!

OK, the best thing about the potluck was people kept showing up, which means that new food kept showing up in half hour intervals. And there was secret garlic toast in the oven. I played waitress with the mini baclava. The other best thing was the realization that the people I surround myself with are also sweet note assassins.

Ben helped me make a dream real. There was bonus whispering! We laid in the grass with our heads really close together but our feet really far away. He said that he was still growing into his arms and legs and that they were sore and that he may never get there. I like the idea of growing forever. I don't like the idea of other forevers. After awhile I asked him if his eyes were opened or closed. "Closed." "Me too." We asked about different body parts being open or closed. It seemed like the more important ones were open. I realized that one of my hands was opened, and the other was closed, because if they were both closed I would be lying on a fist. Today I'm tired and grumpy and worrying I am not as open as I thought. Or I'm not as open as I would like to be. I want to be able to "just be" more of the time, without thinking about what may happen, What is happening, what is going to happen next, what does this mean, what does it all mean? Lying in the grass, we were just being, and just being is the most open thing. I like meeting people who can calm me to a state of just being, because those moments are gold and because it has lasting effects. Today I was late for work and I didn't even care.

All Posi, All the Time

2009-05-21T07:54:00.000-07:00

We spent the morning trying to figure out what constitutes credit card fraud. Joel was worrying that he may have been a conspirator. He was left with a bad taste in his mouth over a transaction. Things could eat Joel up, really get his mind going.

Yesterday I figured out all of the types I gave to Joel were off, and all of the types he gave to me were off. Like "you seem like the kind of person that does this", to which he responds, "no, that is not me at all."

Kate and I split a buttered bagel and it reminded me of school bagels and how they were fried in butter and tasted like no other bagel. Alden came through my line. She reminds me of Tom Dewing in her subtle gestures. Yesterday I told Ben he also reminded me of Tom Dewing. Heather and I spotted it in his smile, though Heather had only met Tom once. I asked Ben how he spent his last Wednesday but it came out "what was your tradeoff?" with scale weighing hands. He said he was mourning for his grandmother, another speckle towards the Tom Dewing comparison. I often feel turned away by similarities. Stuart reminds me of Greg. TD2 reminds me of TD1. But not this time. Ben is rad.

Kate and I decided to be all posi all the time. When I first met Kate I discovered she was also a storyteller. Something her mom said that she is applying.....What's the good worrying? Does the bee worry about where it will get its honey? Does the bird worry about where it will find its seed?

I think I was already practicing though. I am in loving again. I am capable of crushing again. I did jumping jacks in the break room and asked, "Does this count? Does this count?"

Parental Probs

2008-06-09T12:23:00.000-07:00

My mom has had me gripped in a small financial scandal for the last few years. As a result taxes are insanely difficult, correspondence of billing statements and presigned checks riddle my mailbox and I become very stressed out. This week, after not calling me for a few weeks my mom called on strict business at early hours with greeting like, "Amanda: Mom" Its very difficult to talk business with people you aren't supposed to have business with, especially if you do not want to have business with them. In short, I have asked my mom to clear my name, to get me out of New York and stop this child dependent scheme. The problem is, this will result in her having a major income cut, which may or may not force her towards grim financial circumstances. Its really difficult choosing between my own self interest and my mom's financial well being. Mostly because if I go against my mom, she will feel underappreciated, like all of the things she has done for me in the past meant nothing. But that is not the case. It is possible to appreciate the past, but to have a limit of extension. This appreciation can come in all kinds of forms and not have to be linked to favors in kind. Like having to tell a story about an admirable person in sign language class, and walking out crying, realizing at that point of awkward language, that trying to explain my mom and her momness was just too much.

True words were spoken by Paulo Coelho

2008-05-13T09:34:00.000-07:00

An old man and a boy are sitting on a bench. The boy is reading a book that the old man wants to see. The boy is fluttering between feelings of annoyance and hesitation. He is afraid the man is either going to bother him or be illiterate and embarrassed. The boy is not prepared for either situation. He reluctantly shows the man the book and is quite surprised at the old man's response.

"Hmm.." said the old man, looking at all sides of the book, as if it were some strange object. "This is an important book, but it's really irritating."

The boy was shocked. The old man knew how to read, and had already read the book. And if the book was irritating, as the old man had said, the boy still had time to change it for another.

"It's a book that says the same thing almost all other books in the world say," continued the old man. "It describes people's inability to choose their own destinies. And it ends up saying that everyone believes the world's greatest lie."

"What's the world's greatest lie?" the boy asked, completely surprised.

"It's this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what's happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That's the world's greatest lie."

Circles

2008-05-10T10:29:00.000-07:00

I have been using the phrase "my life moves in circles" lately. When I say that I mean there are links linking to other links in my everyday life. Usually these circles are coincidences; I talk about something one day with someone and then in a very short time after that, that seemingly random conversation topic will resurface before my eyes in a very tangible way. Does this happen to everyone? Here is an example. My cooworker Schyler and I uphold a continuous dialogue about our existing creative projects. I am currently feeling underinspired and have nothing to share. He currently has an idea that he wants to go to a junkyard and gather up lots of broken umbrellas and construct huge wings out of them. He thinks it would be wise for me to go to the dump to find things to play with. We don't have a truck though, so I wrote off our conversation as a garbage sifting pipe dream. And then this morning on my way to work, I walk one block up the street to the main drag, and there in the middle of the intersection, needing desperatly to be moved, is a decrepit umbrella. Is it blue and missing a handle and perfect for gigantosaur wing construction. How does this happen? I don't know. Did Schyler think of this idea because it had been raining for two days and the chances of me stumbling upon a dead umbrella were therefore greater? What would happen if I did not have the umbrella conversation? Would the umbrella still have been in the street for me to notice? Would it have been there but without meaning? I don't know. The circle is endless.

Culture Jamming

2007-01-30T12:42:00.000-08:00

This stuff is great to find out about, but will I ever participate in some form of culture jamming? Time will tell...

Barbie Liberation Organization: Either in 1989 or 1993 (the legend loses the year) talking Barbies' voice boxes were switched with talking G.I. Joes' voice boxes so that Barbie said "Dead men tell no lies" and G.I. Joe said "Math is hard."Article on BLO
Guerilla Girls: Group that speaks out against the white/male dominant art world. This is the official website of the group. This is my favorite poster from 1988:

Christmas Antics

2007-01-28T21:48:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I get really overwhelmed and pissed off about Christmas. These are my reasons:

On Christmas I receive a lot of presents and the true comfortableness of my financial status comes to light and it makes me really nervous. I don't like to think of myself as well-off, but on Christmas I am really well-off. I choose to think of myself as existing in moderation. I want to work moderately, spend moderately, drink moderately, etc. On Christmas nothing seems moderate.

Last Minute shopping is the worst! It is pointless to give a gift that you have no desire to give but do it because you are supposed to. Why does everyone have to be so polite? It just makes a lot of people pissed off in the end because things didn't go how they were "supposed to." It is like having to invite certain people to YOUR wedding because other people are going and you have to invite them if you invite someone related to them. These are supposed to be free and personal decisions. You should be able to invite people to your wedding if you want to and give a gift if you want to or NOT.

Exterior decorations. I can understand festiveness, a couple of strands of lights here and there. I can understand decorating as a hobby too, relating to art or as a kind of obsession. But having 15 or more giant inflatable Christmas decorations on your lawn is not a hobby. It is just plain wrong. At a minimum of 50 dollars a piece, that is 500+ dollars that could have been spent on something useful. Why blow it all on looks? Give a cold kid a coat for cripes sake.

The must have hot item of the gift giving season. The first time I learned about Christmas season shopping was when Tickle Me Elmo was big in 1996. Wikipedia of Tickle Me Elmo I couldn't turn on the radio without hearing about a Tickle Me Elmo contest. This article describes the toy's success as kind of fluke and I bet some people got very rich and love Tickle Me Elmo for that. Economic Investigation on Tickle Me Elmo phenom But Tickle Me Elmo was only cute for a week at home, and then he got annoying. He is probably sitting lonely on the tops of kids bunk beds with the My Buddys and Kid Sisters. My mom said that's how it was with cabbage patch dolls... CRAZE-y. But this year was much worse than a Walmart worker suffering a broken rib and a consussion. A woman is dead after all...

This story is about a mother who died after she tried to win a Nintendo Wii for the 2006 Christmas season. Associated Press article about mother who dies in radio contest for Nintendo Wii It says she had 3 kids who I bet would rather have a mother than a Nintendo Wii. Isn't it easy to understand that the Elmos will be sold after Christmas and that enough Nintendo Wiis will be kicked out to meet buyer demands? Why is everyone in such a hurry? Article Comparing Contest to College Hazing Death

New Year's Resolutions

2007-01-21T22:30:00.000-08:00

My New Year's Resolutions were to stop biting, stop picking, and eat more vegetables. I have a good chance of succeeding at all of these things.