Wassup, homie g dawgs?

Here Ye, Here Ye!!

Thu, 12 Jul 2007 22:37:58 GMT

The Lady and I will be embarking upon a marvelous road trip in September or October!

The Route:

Day 1: Austin to Las Cruces
Night 1: Las Cruces with the beautiful Lucy and the moon.
Day 2: Up to Dulce, NM to see Kura's mom. Where's this? Good question. Go mapquest it. It's basically like 10 miles from CO, on the west side of 25. This means we can have a pit-stop in Abq if there is a certain Caleb there! (Or is he in Cruces..??)
Night 2: Sleeping on the Jicarilla Apache Indian Reservation at Kura's mom's.

Day 3: Ambiguous stuff. Maybe leave her and take the meandering and scenic route through Shiprock, NM...

And maybe Monument Valley....

En route to the Grand Canyon!! (of which I am a virgin! Never seen it! Big hole for the lesbian!)

Night 3: I dunno
Day 4+5-ish: Phoenix! Kura's old stomping grounds. Yay!!!
NIght 5: Las Cruces, via scenic something or the other?
Day 6: Back to Austin in time to miss the Deer of Death that stalk Hwy 290 at night.

Yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pedicabbing!

Thu, 14 Jun 2007 08:42:53 GMT

OH my god!! So, PEDICABBING is the coolest form of work in the world!! Tonight was my first night and it sooo rocked!

Breakdown!
From 9:30-11:00 I trained. By training, I mean I drove an empty pedicab around our downtown territory while receiving mildly useful tips here and there from Steve, the young 20-something owner of Heart of Texas Pedicabs. Basically, he owns 20 carts and gets money from people paying to use them to taxi. People like me! You pay $10-$15/night for the use of it, plus 10% of your tips. You work for tips only.

11-2:40 I pedicabbed! As simple as that. I rode around and around downtown trying to pick up strangers. ;) It was so entertaining that I almost didn’t want to stop. Granted, some fat people should be put down because they make little people like me sweat my cajones off, but it was still so worth ittttttt!

Snapshots!
My first ride ever tipped me $10 for taking them like 5 blocks. Yay! They were so sweet, too!

I saw three of my friends downtown! Yay!

Two very flirtatious ladies, Angela and Lindsey, rode in my cab and I overheard Angela say, “…so buff! Great ass, too.” They kept murmuring about some ass, so I turned around and asked if they were talking about me. YEP! They said, “I don’t mean this as an insult, but you have the best ass! We have SUCH a great view back here!” I was laughing so much and blushing, but they kept going. “You are the most fit pedicab driver we’ve ever had! Are you new here?” I sped through a yellow light for them and we proceeded to go downhill at a nice clip. They shouted in unison, “Go pedi! It’s your birthday! WOOOOO! You’re the BEST!!” lol! And when I dropped them off, they were all gushy (alcohol) and said they hope they get to ride with me again. It was insanely silly.

A homeless man came up to me while I was snagging a quick bite from my granola bar. He said, “I don’t want to disrespect you, but can you spare a few dollars?” At this point, I hadn’t made much and I wasn’t sure if I’d make over my minimum payment for the night. I gave him a sorry look and shook my head. He said, “That’s okay…I know you work very hard for your money…” and walked off. Wow, so nice….

And speaking of respect, I GET SOME R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Those drunk people RESPECT me! Ohhh my god, it’s so hilarious. I got SO many high-fives, woots, and cat-calls. This one deserted street held three girls on a patio. I passed by them twice, each time they yelled and yelled and yelled at me, cat-calling and saying, “Go pedi!! Uh uh!!” I have no idea what they were yelling, but their huge smiles were lovely. Heee!

Money!
So, I only worked 3.5 hours. In those hours, I made $61 in tips. $10 went towards the cab itself, and Steve didn’t collect the 10% rule because it was my first night. So I got $51 for this! That comes out to $14.51/hr!!!!!!!!!!!!! And this was a SLOW night by all the cabbers’ opinions. Whoa!

I’m totally working Thursday night. People usually make 2x as much.

Ah, and the cabbers are so cool….

I hurt! Goodnight!

Big hair

Wed, 13 Jun 2007 00:14:03 GMT

Funness....

The Imperia Vodka Big Hair Competition

Update!

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 22:48:33 GMT

Now, for my third post of the day...

1. I've applied for pedicabbing. By Wednesday I should have my pedicab license and by Thursday will be downtown peddling drunk people in my bike-cab. Isn't that COOL!?!?

2. I'm hoping to keep doing contract jobs to keep my financial boat afloat. I rather like this because I get to make my own schedule, which gives me time for my girl!

3. I'm moving into a new apartment in late-June/early-July on the East Side. I'm bringing my automatic and my elephant rifle, just in case.

3a. Know anyone who wants a place for the month of July? ;)

4. I'm going to meet Kura's mom and sister this weekend. Wooohooo! Wonderful.

5. Kura has met my parents (thank you graduation.) My mom is smitten by her. We are making a trip up to Ye Olde Ranch in two weekends to visit the homestead.

Okay!

Before I forget...

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 22:42:22 GMT

I want to feed people beautiful, natural food when I have a place of my own. I want them to bring over their friends and I want to share my bounty. I want to have herbs in and around my house. I want to name my tomato, bean, squash, and melon plants. I want squirrels, mosquito-eating fish, and rain barrels. I want overgrowth and undergrowth and established trees. I want dogs to act like they own the place and cats to *actually* own the place. I want windows regardless of solar orientation and trees/porches/trellises to shade them. I want an old wood table to sit at and huge, plush couches to sit on. I want a window over my sink and ceiling fans in every room. I want a big porch where I watch people walk their dogs. I want potted plants to greet me in every room. I want rugs and wood floors. Paintings and photographs given as gifts from friends. Relics from theirs and my travels. I want sun tea. I want my parents to be able to visit me whenever they want and for my (eventual) kids to visit them as well.

But mainly, I want to be able to afford (in many ways) the simple joy of sharing.

How Portland was...

Sun, 10 Jun 2007 22:29:44 GMT

Written on the plane ride home.

I flew in to Portland Sunday evening. Leaving Austin was a bit harder than predicted. This time I was leaving someone I love. That simple item changes one’s whole perspective on their activities. In fact, this whole trip has had the murmur of Kura. Each activity, each bus ride, each sight, and even each breath carried her with it. I was never without her. What a novel experience.

I learned through this trip. Granted, not as much as I normally learn on trips; yet, this learning was so much more qualitative. I learned some transmuting mechanisms and I learned what it means to act in accordance with someone and something greater than you.

On Wednesday (I think?) I took a bus out to Powell Butte Nature Park. It’s an extinct volcano that is now covered in meadows and patches of forest. I went up a trail marked Mountain View first. It was a handicap-accessible trail (a genre of people Portland is very responsive to) that gently sloped to a look-out point. From there, I saw Mt. Hood (a 12,000 ft high snow-covered peak), Mt. Jefferson (a slightly smaller version of Mt. Hood), and Mt. St. Helens. I was totally surprised to see Mt. St. Helens to the north. I had not known it was only 57 or so miles to the north of Portland. With its blunt, snow-covered top, it was not quite the beauty in the area. But it was amazing nonetheless.

Standing on top of the look-out area and seeing so much meadow, I was rather annoyed. Wasn’t this the great North West coast? Aren’t there supposed to be forests of gargantuan pine trees? So I wandered down a different trail. Much to my feet’s joy, the handicap pavement gave way to uneven dirt trail. A few meadows later, it led directly into a beautiful speckled pine forest. Dappled light fluttered over moss, leaves, needles, and soft earth. Woodpeckers darted around various tree types. Each step was a wonder to behold and I felt so blessed to be able to experience it with my breath, ears, and eyes. I stopped constantly, taking in and breathing out. Kura was everywhere. Each beautiful sunlit spider web that sparked in the light made me think of her eyes; each fallen log made me think of her company; and, each strong, stoic tree made me think of her presence. I was becoming sad with the urge to have her by my side. After a while of this feeling, I decided to send her the beauty I saw...to share it with her across the miles. I’ve never experimented in this. Now it seems like an obvious thing to do...It helped a lot.

Powell Butte was nice, but there had to be more out there. Aud took Lizzie and I to Vista View Thursday evening to watch the sunset. My mouth hung open as we drove 25 miles outside the city and to the east. We eventually turned off Hwy 84 and up into a mountain. The sun was setting fast and the deep shadows and golden light made Lizzie and I afraid that we would miss the sunset. We curved along streams, meadows, and cliffs with stubborn trees as we made our way to the top (sort of) of this area. The view was spectacular. Situated on a cliff-like perch that branched off the mountain was an old geometrically shaped building. Around it was a wall for viewing the Columbia River below and the sunset beyond. Deep green mountains folded over themselves behind us. More gentle foothills slept in front of us and across the river. The view down would have been incomprehensible had there not been a highway below to show us the true scale of our perch. 18-wheelers were tiny specs below.

From here we giggled and played and took millions of vanity and sunset photos. Much like a Japanese watercolor painting, the mountains to the east and along the river faded out in washed out shades. Nature’s perspective is so awesome.

Today I woke up early to go to Forest Park—the largest urban park in America. That label is quite misleading, as it implies something akin to Central Park in NYC. Quite the contrary—Forest Park is a veritable forest almost untouched by man. It has a very well defined trail that follows a babbling brook. It also has a house from 1857 that is in complete decay. Other than that, the land is left to slugs, birds, spiders, trees, moss, and water. It was beautiful. Like Powell Butte, I could not take but one step without being overwhelmed by the excitement and beauty of it all. There were the biggest slugs EVER there, too! I’ll have to look them up to see what the hell kind of crack they were on.

While traveling these trails, I learned the difference between coming and going. Taking the same trail back and forth afforded me so much opportunity for growth and introspection that I will seriously doubt the benefit of taking a different way home. Coming and going created a completed cycle for me. Coming….Newness, complete and utter newness. Eyes WIDE open in wonder, stimulation, over-awareness, excitement. Mouth hung open, feet unsure, eyes scanning hungrily. All is novel; all is unknown. It is like being a newborn, completely new to this amazing place and wanting to learn, observe, and interact. You don’t know where you are going and you certainly don’t know what it will look like or feel like. But you are content to find out.

Going….You return. Sure-footed, loving, aware, calm. The wide-eyed, slack-jawed face of youth is replaced with the knowing and understanding smile of quietude and calmness. You’ve been here before, but that does not diminish the wonder and awe of what you feel—for it is all new again. Yet, this time, you have registered most of the new stimuli and are prepared to accept and acknowledge its existence with reverence and joy. Deep respect. Humbled. Humility. Your breath is longer, deeper. You are satisfied and pleased, yet you understand the importance of not taking anything for granted.

You are changed. Something in you is deeper, stronger. Your roots are physically no longer, yet you know more about where you come from and where you are.

The mountains below look exactly like the ones I colored in color pencil on poster paper in Mr. Schafstall’s 5th grade geography class. There are even spots of snow.

You know, I’m not much for cities. They are all the same. Like that song “Rotterdam.” There are buildings and there are people that live in the buildings. Sometimes the atmosphere is markedly different. But for the most part, buildings exist and people move about in and around them. The same styles permeate each city—no matter its geographical and temporal location. Each city has revivals, modernists, post-moderns, and completely new faceless and shiny buildings. I’m not interested in that. In fact, it rather depresses me. Nothing new under the sun….Days spent in the city are felt as wasteful. My true joys come from staring at nature.

Cross-posting, from Steve Ross

Sat, 07 Apr 2007 05:55:13 GMT

A worthwhile read for everyone: an excerpt from our current discussion in my thinking class...(italics and bold=my emphasis)

“Believe nothing, no matter where you read it or who has said it, not even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and your own common sense.” - Buddha

Anonymous:

"I am always very aware at having learned something new. Suddenly, everywhere I turn people are talking about it or alluding to it in some way or another. Now I am not so naive as to think that this “new” idea has spontaneously sprung into everyone’s consciousness at the same time; I have simply been clued in. But would it really seem so odd that a similar idea sprouted up at the same time everywhere? Aren’t we all experiencing similar cultural circumstances on a daily basis?"

"It is our generation that has to make the changes and we are in the perfect position to do it. In a few years, we will be the media, the marketing, the money. We have to start feeding the right messages through the system. We have to start from the bottom up, from the youth to the elders (can you teach an old dog new tricks?). Since we cannot erase what we have already done, and we will not give up our luxuries, we must rethink community, production, and purpose. We need to use the delivery system of Mother Culture for a new agenda…one of unfiltered information; repackaging the ideas of Ishmael, Chaung Chou, Buddha, us."

"Neither my life of luxury in the palace nor my life as an ascetic in the forest is the way to freedom. Overdoing things can not lead to happiness." –Siddhartha

Anonymous: "The word nostalgia has been cropping up in my head lately. However, it never seems to be a yearning for the past. It just seems to be a wistful yearning for something more beautiful. Nostalgia, for me, is relating more with connection. I want to be more connected; with people, family, the energy of a thunderstorm. Coincidentally, although I don’t deny taking part, I will never be nostalgic for ipods, or internet petitions, easy squeeze upside down ketchup, or treadmills. We need more connection."

The Three Universal Truths
1. Nothing is lost in the universe
The first truth is that nothing is lost in the universe. Matter turns into energy, energy turns into matter. A dead leaf turns into soil. A seed sprouts and becomes a new plant. Old solar systems disintegrate and turn into cosmic rays. We are born of our parents, our children are born of us.
We are the same as plants, as trees, as other people, as the rain that falls. We consist of that which is around us, we are the same as everything. If we destroy something around us, we destroy ourselves. If we cheat another, we cheat ourselves. Understanding this truth, the Buddha and his disciples never killed any animal.
2. Everything Changes
The second universal truth of the Buddha is that everything is continuously changing. Life is like a river flowing on and on, ever-changing. Sometimes it flows slowly and sometimes swiftly. It is smooth and gentle in some places, but later on snags and rocks crop up out of nowhere. As soon as we think we are safe, something unexpected happens.
Once, dinosaurs, mammoths, and saber-toothed tigers roamed this earth. They all died out, yet this was not the end of life. Other life forms like smaller mammals appeared and eventually humans, too. Now we can even see the Earth from space and understand the changes that have taken place on this planet. Our ideas about life also change. People once believed that the world was flat, but now we know that it is round.
3. Law of Cause and Effect
The third universal truth explained by the Buddha is that there is continuous changes due to the law of cause and effect. This is the same law of cause and effect found in every modern science textbook. In this way, science and Buddhism are alike.
The law of cause and effect is known as karma. Nothing ever happens to us unless we deserve it. We receive exactly what we earn, whether it is good or bad. We are the way we are now due to the things we have done in the past. Our thoughts and actions determine the kind of life we can have. If we do good things, in the future good things will happen to us. If we do bad things, in the future bad things will happen to us. Every moment we create new karma by what we say, do, and think. If we understand this, we do not need to fear karma. It becomes our friend. It teaches us to create a bright future."

EEEEEE, extrapolated

Sat, 07 Apr 2007 05:49:33 GMT

Love is in the air! Spring (-ish) is in the air!

First: Love. I'm feeling more and more happy about Mary's friendship. We are so explicit and reflective with eachother that it borders on over-drive. But the main result is that we are very aware of how glad we are for eachother's offering of friendship. And we say so every day. That's awesome.

Second: More love! Love from my studio-mates, from my blossoming friendships (a bouquet of them!), and from my old friends. Winter break was one kind of revival in New Mexico. This semester is another. And May is yet another. I'll be flying out to Portland with my free airfare voucher to visit Aud! YAY!!!!!!! I'm so excited!

Third: Love from me! I've been radiating joy this week and have received lots of odd looks and "Are you on speed?" compliments. Reminds me of my days in high school when I would bounce off those ugly green CMU walls.

Fourth: Language! AH!!!!! Jesus, language is so amazing. I'm having the time of my life with ASL. Every day is so beautiful because the language seeps more and more into me and around me. For example: I spent an hour and a half chatting with Jilly on Wednesday. The exchange in ASL blew five million fuses in my brain, but it was soooooo joyful. I'm so glad for her continued patience with my learning curve.

And then I went out last night. Mary and I decided to go to girl's night at Rainbow Cattle Co. Before, though, we went to Halcyon for some tea. I spent an hour teaching her some ASL basics. It was sooo fun to watch her intense face freeze with concentration. Her eyes all but bulged out with concentration. We then went to RCC and got to business dancing like dirty ghetto ho bags raised wearing plaid. (Meaning, mock gangsta dancing....I guess..?) Anyways, we were having a grand time when I spied with mine eyes 5 or 6 girls chatting away in ASL. !!!!!!!!!! I bounced my way around in a few circles, grabbed at Mary, bounced more, and ran off the dance floor to ponder my next move. It's an awkward situation to try to introduce yourself to a group of deaf girls, if you weren't aware. I felt I had no smooth way of saying hi, so I tried my best to minimalize the painful embarrassment of singling out someone to talk to. I succeeded in the most minimal of senses and spent the next 10 minutes chatting with one of the girls. She was really nice and I just plain enjoyed the act of signing with a new person. I learned quite a few new signs and bounced away happily thereafter. Woohoooo!

I talked to my ASL teacher today for 20 minutes after class. She told me how to avoid the painful awkwardness of talking to new people...thank god. We then talked about architecture and deaf culture! I was beside myself in joy. The conversation resulted in me being invited to her house for a great tour and discussion of how she worked with a hearing architect to achieve a deaf-friendly house. YAY!!!!

Fifth: Bikes!!! A new classmate friend and I rode off to Yellow Bike Project land this evening to get our hands dirty. We sure as hell got them DIRTY! We spent THREE hours taking apart a craptastic "bike" and rebuilding it. We'd NEVER done this stuff before and were sooo utterly happy to learn by doing. It has been both our goals to be bike-independent and this place is perfect for such knowledge. We changed two tires (which were bitches, let me tell you...), stripped the back wheel down to the axle and ball bearings so as to clean it ALL out and regrease everything, added a new cassette, stripped it of its gear-shifting capabilities, made it a fixed gear bike, changed the chain length, added a new seat post and saddle, and began the process of removing the handlebars in order to replace it with a straight set and new brakes. WOW!!!!!! We kicked some ASS. And this cute guy who I play softball with showed up. He came over and helped us and we had ourselves a fun time! AHH! There was GREASE and OIL and TOOLS and METAL THINGS everywhere! And our hands were caked! And our mouths were SMILING! And we high-fived eachother after every accomplishment! Oh, what FUN!

Bikes aren't scary! They are AWESOME! And so damn sexy. Bikes are hot.

Sixth: Smartness! I've begun studying to become LEED certified. This is a national certification whereby those who complete the testing are very knowledgeable in sustainable design. It's basically gold for firms who don't know how to be 'green.' They hire people who are certified so that their firm can learn from them and incorporate ideas of stewardship in their design. Certification's a big deal and a very big investment. I'm so glad UT is using some funding to pay for my test and study material. It's such an amazing opportunity and most definitely one of my goals for my profession. To be certified so early on will be a big break for me. YAY!!!!

In the words of Steve, Wooohooo!!!!

!!!

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 22:45:55 GMT

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *big ginormous smile*

On Friendship

Mon, 02 Apr 2007 04:50:04 GMT

Perceptions are funny things. Interactions are funny things. Oftentimes, I find these two ideas at odds with each other. The former usually precedes the latter; however, the latter usually informs the former. The relationship is therefore symbiotic and understanding this flexibility is key to not losing site of important concepts.

There are many times when I perceive a person or experience has being just plain *amazing.* Immediately, I am infused with youthful energy as I react to the prospect of amazingness being within my grasp. It is, of course, this rush of newness that I adore in the larger scheme of things. But I’m also painfully aware of the fact that I feel this because I do not know. At that moment, I’m reacting to a perception, not a reality.

This is when interaction comes in. By interacting with the person or experience, a reality is created. Well over half of my perceptions are fizzled out in this stage. Two ‘perfect’ entities meet to find they are not ‘perfect’ together. One and one aren’t making one, they are making two—but with a fuzzy grey middle space full (or void) of electricity. The two entities are the person/experience and I.

Backtrack. Myself as ‘perfect?’ There are many times when I feel I am ready to be x, y, or z. I feel I’m ready to be a student of this, a friend of that, or a lover of this. At this point in time, I recognize that I’ve addressed issues I find to be important and relative to that position. My past experience, or lack thereof, tell me that I’ve prepared enough inside myself to interact with something/someone else. I feel confident with who I am, what I’m capable of, and where I’m coming from.

Fast-forward and we find two entities meeting. From my perspective, I’m as ready as I will ever be. And then there is this *amazing* experience or person. There. Right there. Again, the infused and reactionary stage begins, and then is tempered by the meat of the matter: interaction. Reality.

What’s great about this process is that it hardly ever predictable. Places, people, and experiences I had all the faith in the world in turn out to be not what I’d imagined and those I had no faith in turn out to be most important. It’s not the places, people, and experiences within themselves; rather, it is the interaction between them and me. It’s the combination of two unknown chemicals—What will be the result? It doesn’t matter how much A knows A and B knows B (my experience has told me), the two will meld, explode, or dissipate as they will when put together.

Even if a fizzle or explosion happens, one can always go back to perceiving that person, place, or event with the same respect and reverence they had before. Back when they saw that entity as an entity—void of their interaction.

This all seems so scientific. It’s making a lot of sense as a cross-over between right and left, though…

I’ve had multiple relationships where I became so excited about someone—yet the actual reality/interaction was less than desirable. Mayra was a glaring example of this. We got along great from a distance; however, her physical presence all but drove a screaming drill though my head. I could not understand this; she could not sense this, much less begin to understand it. We were both lost. Things got messy very fast and ended up with a big explosion full of painful words and brazen silences. I wanted to figure out what the culprit of this was. She wanted nothing more to do with my friendship. Her hatred of the situation stopped me from even considering any of the things I’d once held to be true about her—she was so transformed by our interaction. It was sad.

On the other extreme, there are friendships that begin as acquaintances where you believe nothing could ever come of this person. You perceive them as a wallflower in your room of Life. Yet somehow you both unfurl to find more than you ever thought you could. Those friendships are unique and rely heavily on the middle ground between the two entities—where the reality is made. But don’t all friendships? A friendship is not knowledge that you are a good person and they are a good person. A friendship is where those two people meet and how they meet.

Bouldering!

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 19:07:56 GMT

This past weekend I had the lovely joy of going pseudo-hiking with a friend, Mary. She’s a crazy girl who was/is in the Marines and is now working part-time on a degree while working full-time for UTPD. Her morals are….interesting. Flexible at times, yet hard-lined in so many ways. I can’t help but think of her as a country….standing around, very much independent of others. Like, oh, let’s say…the US! She strongly feels that people are islands and that no one makes anyone feel or do something and that our reactions are entirely our own. While I agree to an extent, I cannot agree with the way she presents this argument. It totally takes out of question the idea that we are all bound somehow and that our interactions do have impacts, even in the slightest ways, on everything around us. You can’t escape this.

Tangent!

So we left bright and early Saturday morning to tackle the green belt down by Mopac and Bee Cave(s). The weather was delightfully humid and grey, giving only the smallest whisper of a hope for sunshine later on. We walked forward like two dogs set loose in a field: eager to go forward, yet so damn distracted by everything around us!! Every five steps, one of us would bounce off to the right or left and examine something. Well, I take that back. She had a very militant “I’m going somewhere and god help those who get in my way!” sorta walk. I, on the other hand, examined most every rock, leaf, flower, and tree. (!!! The tiniest little green caterpillar that was about the size of uhhhh….well, he was as big around as a piece of pencil lead and only as long as the bronze part that holds the eraser on….well, he was dangling in the middle of the path! So cute!!) She remarked that without me, she would have missed the beautiful cliffs to our west and stream to our east.

We came upon a father and son doing some bouldering. Mary and I stood and chatted for a while, as both of us are trying to get into climbing. The father offered us a trip up, but upon watching the son fail miserably, we thought we’d pass until our trip back.

*le SIGH* Sweet mother of god…the trees there were AMAZING. We found countless trees growing horizontally, with trunks as big around as a draft horse’s girth. They were strong and pained. We had to, of course, climb everything (tree or not.) The horizontal ones were surreal to ‘climb’, as it entailed a balanced walk down and up a fat, mossy beam. The fun part was climbing from limb to limb without returning to the base.

We played Mountain Lion in these great mini-caves, tackled eachother at random times, and took pictures like 15 year olds at a mall. It was all very youthful and priceless.

The views changed every 100 yards, it seemed. From Wizard of Oz-like mesquite forest to millions of years old stream-cut cliffs….oye. So beautiful. After finding a perfect place for future hot-day-swimming, we turned back and happened upon the dad and son again. By this time, the dad had found a way up the face and secured a top anchor. The rope then attached itself to a tree…they were set. Mary volunteered to go first. She scrambled slowly up the face, making it about a ¼ the way up its 50 or so feet. She was wearing short shorts, so the amount of ass commentary was bordering on pornographic. Hilariously so. I made sure to take many pictures of her little cheekies hanging out so she could scowl at me later. The guys, however, were thankful to be alive during her climb.

I went next. Having watched where she went wrong, I easily made it up past her stopping point. Mary and the guys were a great support crew and I never once felt as though I was hanging off the face of a cliff, tied to a rope which was, in part, controlled by a man I’d never met before. I continued up to the half-way mark. It seemed I was getting scared of the height issue and that my limbs were shaking a bit too much to continue. But my cheerleaders coached me laterally across to a ledge to rest on for a few minutes. From there I pulled and pushed myself up to the TOP! It was AMAZING! The view overlooked the entire green belt’s tree canopy.

The descent was just as great. I had the leisurely opportunity to waddle/bounce my way down as the father gave me slack in the rope. Damn, that was great. I will definitely be going out and pestering more climbers in the future. In the mean time I am going to the rock wall at UT’s gym a few times a week to get my tendons and fingers in gear.

YAY!

Mary

Bah.

Sat, 31 Mar 2007 18:53:36 GMT

Know Pat Buchanan? Well, he's one of those political guys who advises presidents and runs for the position in his spare time. He's also a regular on the McLaughlin Group. Anyway, I was doing some research on him and others, and found his position on gay people and AIDS to be very inspiring. Read on....

"Buchanan has said that "homosexuality is not a civil right." He calls it unhealthy and described sex between two men as "not only immoral, but filthy." Further, Buchanan has said that public acceptance of homosexuality inevitably leads to societal decay and the collapse of the family.[30] In his autobiography, he wrote, "Someone's values are going to prevail. Why not ours? Whose country is it, anyway? Whose moral code says we may interfere with a man's right to be a practicing bigot, but must respect and protect his right to be a practicing sodomite?" In a 1990 interview, he said he was "the first national columnist to demand why the government wasn’t dealing with this national epidemic," and stood by his view that AIDS is a consequence of immoral sex. Referring to AIDS in 1993, he said that gays "declared war upon nature, and now nature is extracting an awful retribution" and urged New York City Mayor Ed Koch and New York State Gov. Mario Cuomo cancel the Gay Pride Parade or else "be held personally responsible for the spread of the AIDS plague." Despite these sentiments, Buchanan did not reject gays as political supporters. Notably, he developed professional ties with openly gay paleolibertarian Justin Raimondo, due to their common Old Right anti-war views."

[In a non-related paragraph from the same article] 'he wrote in 1992 that "no true Christian can carry within his heart hatred for any of God's children..."'
~Your Friend, Wikipedia

Rant

Fri, 30 Mar 2007 04:19:14 GMT

Rant.

But first, a rave. Today was beautiful. It was a perfect day for a funeral. Nice soft, gentle rain that thoroughly and subtly soaked. I rode my bike home in it, happy to have the rain drops touch my face instead of pelt it. It was all very soft. After a half hour's nap, I woke to find sunshine gently trying to squeeze through my shades. It was golden and tired in a very beautifully nostalgic way, as if to say goodbye to this gorgeous day and provide knowledge of a new day for the post-funeral procession. (This funeral was in my head, though, no doubtedly, a funeral must have occurred somewhere in Austin today.)

And now the rant. Before all this beauty was a morning spent finishing up my interim portfolio and resume. It was a mad dash to get *something* printed and presentable for an interview I had today. I set up the interview knowing full well that I did not expect to fit into the firm. My previous conversations with architects from the firm were grotesque, at best, from a person like me's standpoint. The firm does 2,600 sq. ft. houses, downtown bars, and anything else that throws gobs of money at them. This, obviously, did not interest me. The men I spoke with, however, had a very youthful, almost playful, personality, so I thought I might sacfrice my morals to work at such a place, if only for 8 months.

However, the interview was so forced from my end. I presented my case and listened to Mark, the architect's, shpeal. He's aware that I'm in the Interior Design program and is a self-proclaimed supporter of such people. His words from there on out were full of patronage. He put down the lack of practical education in architecture school, most notably interior design. He continually pre-categorized who I am, what I'm capable of, and (most frustratingly) what I'm interested in. All these presuppositions pissed me the fuck off. He also made it clear that I'd be welcome as an asset in and of my intern capabilities, such as model-making and CAD drawing, to name a few. OH JOY. Yes, I'd love to be a CAD monkey. In "attempting" to make my skills seem valuable, he totally and blatantly disregarded the whole background of my 4 years of education and work experience. All the while he proclaimed how Interior Designers are very valuable and are equal to architecture.

Well, I was pissed. But, I find, my attention span for interviews is wretched. I cannot stare at a person's face for more than 5 seconds without quasi-spacing out. (The whole experience is extremely fruitless, constructed, and forced, in my opinion; therefore, I cannot truly find a way to be Present.) So, the act of spacing out helped quell my pissedness. In defense of my education and my own analytical skill, I broke down the thorough practical and theoretical/spatial training we receive, which, I've found, is superior to the architecture students. I gave him a list of the national and international building codes I'm familiar with, the dimensions of a true 2x4 and 2x8 (after drying shrinkage and shaving), a listing of how well prepared we are for ADA (handicap-accessible design), and sustainable criteria as defined by LEED. He looked at me with raised eyebrows and said, in a huffed voice, "Well, it wasn't that way five years ago!" That's right, asswipe. Maybe you should do your research before you come into an interview and patronize a student.

I left feeling very confirmed about not wanting to work there. They have no regard what so ever for the environment. That type of irresponsibility and disrespect totally solidified my criteria for where I will work now and in the future. I thought I might be okay to work in a place with at least an idea of sustainability, but no. I cringed so much inwardly as he described how they don't actively pursue "green" design, yet it's a good trajectory and they should pursue it, blah blah blah. But there was no serious commitment...not even to the idea! AGH!!!!!!!!!!! *run away!!*

This is Austin? Come on, guys.

At least I have an interim portfolio. It really kicked my ass into gear. Now I *really* need to hunker down and make it purdy and spiffy and ooo-y and ahhh-y and irrrrrresistable. I found that while talking him through my work, I was quite unconfident about a number of projects. This process really helped me hone in on what projects to omit and which ones to find the essence of. I sorely lack the finesse of distilling a project down to a single idea. This brain don't do that. Nope.

And....I need to find a *place* to work. I want to spend my next 8 months doing hands-on, nitty, gritty work. Work for people who don't normally receive professional work because they can't afford it or they don't know how to work the system. Oh, I met a man who works at the firm who designed the Texas School for the Deaf. I had a GREAT conversation about all the various considerations and understandings one encounters while working with a Deaf client on a type of project that is *completely* different than everything else. Consider, if you will, designing a school for the Deaf AND Blind. This firm just got a commission for that. Why a state would combine the two is beyond me....unless it's for economic (ie, purse-pinching) reasons. Anyway, one needs to understand that the two communities require almost polar physical environments. The Deaf community thrives on broad, open spaces--lines of sight are imperative for communication and information-gathering. Acoustics, as well, are imperative because a lot of information is conveyed through floor vibrations. On the other hand, the Blind community prefers smaller, more intimate spaces that are more easily understood and navigated. Way-finding is key. Materiality is also important. Floor textures are like road maps. Finishes enhance or diminish a space's acoustics. Communication with these groups is also very amazing. I asked how they found the fine line between aid and patronage. The architect responded by saying, "Well, we asked them. We asked what would be condescending and what would be constructive." In creating Braille translations for one client, he learned one of the biggest peeves of the Blind is that people tend to condense information when put in Braille. That pisses people off! They, of course, want the full script. This is logical, but it was a revelation for the firm. In short, I was very pleased to hear the types of cross-cultural learning that was happening on a professional level from day to day.

Sleep.

Oh! Revelation. Braille is obviously a French word. Those damn French! They pioneered (well, 60% pioneered) ASL….I wonder if they had their dirty little croissant hands in Braille, as well…zzzzzzzzzzz.

Tuxy

Fri, 23 Mar 2007 04:18:10 GMT

When I went home two Fridays ago, I had the joy of sleeping with Tuxy in bed with me. My thoughts on her the day after:

“What was it I wanted to reflect on? Perhaps it is the emotional deluge. The week before spring break is notorious for school stress. Loss of sleep and a switch to almost pure digital production and rapid fire thinking/acting. No time for emotions. Friday night, as I lay with Tuxy on my chest, purring under my hand, I cried. Each time I see her I begin to think about how much I love her. It makes me cry. Deep, penetrating release. It means so such to love her. It means loyalty, unconditionality, forgiveness, and transcendence. Trust. It means giving and taking. It lacks reason and is composed entirely of What Is. Devotion. I realized, slowly over the past year, that the basis of our relationship is touch. Over the past few months, I’ve developed the way we interact to be less proprietary and more intuitive. Our labels and identities have dissolved into an ambiguous and beautiful state of Being together. This dissolution/transcendence touches me so deeply and is, I believe, something necessary for my well-being. It is a communion. On a less deep level, it is something that fulfills. To be able to touch her whenever and to feel her love and her purr is my gold. Touch is essential for me. I need it. So I cried. Tux is more than a cat…she’s my love.”

Re-reading that, I thought, “And this is about a cat? I’m sure that’s odd when read by others.” But I’m sure we’ve all had someone, a person, pet, or other, that has really touched us in this way. At least I hope so.

And speaking of communion, I used that word in an email I sent someone the other week. I liked the phrase and want to put it here for remembering. “Sketching is like meditation; horseback riding is like worshiping; and touch (massage, hugs, holding, etc) is like daily bread.” I realized these things are very important to me because they all stem from being connected. I cannot successfully do any of those activities without feeling more-than.

Blah blah blah.

I’m going to play JuJu now. I’ve not even laid eyes on her since last semester…Sad!

OH! One more thing. I'm now officially in line to do life drawing modeling! April 12th! Woooo! I can finally check it off my list. (And make a pretty penny ;) )

Spring Break, Part I

Wed, 21 Mar 2007 05:31:35 GMT

Ah jeez, I feel so disconnected from where I've been because I've not had the opportunity to sit down and reflect. In fact, I had to forcefully decline a very insistent Neko's insistence that I go to Trudy's with her for 30 minutes. No time!

Ah, and I've managed to injure myself again. I just received a call back from UT's emergency nurse line....I've a lovely friction burn that will not for the life of it stop freaking oozing! It's been oozing for a full day...rather gross.

I dreamt last night that Jan and I lived in a very spiffy version of our current apartment complex. One day, a boy came our way. His actions and mannerism were very peculiar and rather scared us. We realized he had just come from killing someone. Not only did he kill the person, but he also did some dismembering. All we could do was try to mask our fear. The boy seemed very unbalanced, however, because he was acting like a normal person, as if his actions had no merit. He left and we huddled together in an attempt to figure out what to do. We could call the police, but our only evidence was a clear premonition. Later that night, the boy returned while I was home alone. He asked to borrow my camera. I seized it and told him now was not a good time. He quietly walked off. His presence was such a weight on us...I woke up feeling very off kilter.

Hmm: "To see a killer in your dream, suggests that an essential aspect of your emotions have been cut off. You feel that you are losing your identity and your individuality. Alternatively, this dream may represent purification and the healing process. You are standing up for yourself and putting a dramatic end to something." Which, oh which. How fascinatingly polar those interpretations are.

The night before, I had a beautiful dream where a woman with long, dark hair strode down an elegant baroque hall. She was naked (no doubt precipitated by my gang shower experience) and her skin shown as pale porcelain in the twighlight beyond the large windows. As she strode past each window with a calm and defiantly beautiful expression on her face, she threw up her right arm towards the curtains, willing them to slash open to let the pale light in. Her beauty and power was so amazing.

Hmm: Opening curtains, revealing the hidden. I do love dreams.

I went to Maryland to visit my dad and grandmom. The day of departure came upon me as fast as a bat out of hell. I had absolutely no time to prepare for his presence. Considering the effects too much thinking/preparing has had on me before, this was a good thing. I arrived in Baltimore to the same old stuff. Without making a bit to-do about him, I must conclude that he has not changed since I last saw him, nor has he become more bearable. I feel the urge to list my observations so that I can compare later on.

1. Hypocrisy: "Lindsey, you can't let anyone take advantage of you and lead you around. You need to make things your own, be proactive." These summarizing sentences followed a rather lengthy speech about people taking advantage of him. Of course, he's a prime example of one who exploits others. He's very, very good at it, even to the point where those who know they are being exploited (eg, me) are also rendered helpless due to his skill. Awareness, in this case, only breeds contempt. Another great quote: "This government lets people who've done wrong go free." Yeah, and it also allows sons to stand beside their wrong-doing fathers as they go free, thus inheriting their masses of money. You are so entirely right, Dad. I love your insight.

2. Lying/Deceit. Again, he needs to cut down on the amount of girls he shags. It's flat out wrong. Also, he dips into my grandmother's account like a man siphoning gas out of a car in a parking lot. Thousands of dollars go towards his personal joys: taking women on cruises, pimping his rides (all four of them), and buying $400 birdhouses.

3. Fallen Son Complex: So there were two sons. One was great and obedient; the other was bad. Other son repents and we all love him more. My dad is that fallen son. He's constantly preaching his new path and pulling people into a pity fest. "I feel like the chosen people who were in the desert for 40 years." (This in reference to him waiting 2 years for a screwy car guy to pimp out his '64 Impala for $20,000 and counting.) "People always try to take advantage of me." "Trusting that man is an act of faith, mark my words." All hail the holy man.

Enough of him.

While in the east, I drove up to Pennsylvania. The ride was beautiful as it was a slightly cloudy and sunny winter day in the east. Memories flooded my mind and I was content to be alone. In fact, it was the first time I'd driven that road alone. I'd always been driven by family members or friends. It was great, yet somber, as it meant I was fully disengaged from that part of my life.

Hanover

I drove by my old house in Hanover, where I lived with Jackie for the last time. The weeping cherry tree we planted for her at her death has grown very large. I suppose 15 years will do that to a tree. In fact, I did not recognize the tree. The neighborhood is the same. I drove down the street where I ran into a parked car on my bike at age 8. At the time, I thought it'd be novel to close my eyes and see if I could ride my bike down the hill in a straight line. I laughed aloud as I revisited the site to find the street actually *curves* a great deal. No wonder I ran into the car and got stitches. Sillyness.

My old house in Hanover

40 minutes up the road was my next house. I couldn't believe it, but I actually drove past it while trying to find it. I remember the neighborhood having so much more individuality. Alas, I could not find my old house in the milieu of ordinary suburban construction. I found it, however, and was not moved. It wreaked of a crappy step-family. Nothing whole, nothing complete. I drove off.

My old house in Mecanicsburg

My trip up to PA had the purpose of seeing my old art teacher, Jeannie.

Jeannie's gallery

Jeannie is an elder in the Delaware tribe. Her age is unknown, and for that matter, irrelevant. She has always been a mentor for me. Her words have been years ahead of my life, yet I always understood there immanent importance. She is the type of person where when she looks at you, she looks in and through you. Her words are Truth, Honesty, and Light. Nothing about her is false and nothing is soft. Unfortunately her life is extremely busy and we did not have but 15 minutes to sit and chat. I was on the verge of unveiling my latest preoccupations with otherness when a customer came in the gallery and took up the remainder of our time. It was entirely worth it, though. To see her eyes--those galaxies of intense understanding and knowledge--was worth my whole trip to the east.

While with her, she told me she enjoyed my letters very much. They had an incredible impact on her and she asked if I had ever considered writing. I told her that I've tentatively committed myself to NanoWriMo (that's what it's called..?) and explained the concept. She was thrilled for me and told me, in her very matter-of-fact voice, that I need to write. She said she saw it in my eyes and face, not to mention through my letters, that it is something I must do for myself. Write a book. She charged me with the task of writing a book.

What about?

Parting remarks jotted down after our visit:
1."Walk in love and light." She always signs her letters with this. For the first time ever, she spoke this phrase to me. I was stood still by actually *hearing* these words.

2. "Your greatest good will come forward. I know it will. And it will be amazing." She looked me straight in the eye, holding my arms, and told me this. She's said it before, and the same impact was had. She cannot even get past the first two words before a huge, PURE smile of JOY and HAPPINESS explodes from my face. When she says this to me, I feel nothing but PURE good, PURE happiness, PURE oneness with all that is beautiful. Potentials and accomplishments burst forth and I feel as though I've been lit on fire. It's love, explosion, timelessness, and an eagerness that is comparable to none. This phrase, spoken by her....I just cannot describe enough what it does to me. It's full of power and conviction. Utter dynamite. The image of wind coming from the cardinal directions and smashing into each other in the center, thus lifting a bird into the sky ran through my mind. I felt like that bird...being lifted from every direction, catapulting towards the great airy expanse.

3. "I ask and it comes to me." Need to know something? Good, ask. The knowledge will arrive.

4. "Indians are the survivors. They think in circles. Others think in such straight lines--it's full of materialism! It is the Indians who will survive because they know how to live." Sweet Jesus, did we not just cover this in class for a month? And to have it spoken so succinctly by someone 1,000's of miles away....

5. "You are a part of my family. I mean it." To be a part of Jeannie's family is similar to being inducted into the amazing person hall of fame. I feel so honored that she loves and respects me enough to be considered family.

Ugh, need to sleep.

Fri, 02 Mar 2007 05:06:03 GMT

I love this lyric...just heard it for the first time today.

"You think she's an open book,
But you don't know which page to turn to, do you?"

Open Book, by Cake

Transcribed thoughts

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 06:26:58 GMT

I posted these items on my online discussion forum for a class. It's valid here, as well.

"The ego is embedded in a larger consciousness in which we participate, and acts as the organizer of life (ie, the "Mind", "God", "Universe"), and as in the cell, the proper relationship between the modalitities is osmotic." ~Morris Berman, The Reenchantment of the World.

The ‘osmosis’ Berman talks about is not foreign to us humans. It’s not far-fetched; it’s not futuristic; it’s not old-school. It’s something we have all experienced. For Anne, it comes in the form of surfing. For Steve, cutting down trees. For Janani, making spicy food her roommate cannot digest properly.

For me, it comes with horseback riding and art. But for now, I want to focus on

I just returned home from a life drawing session. A simple thing: man/woman gets naked, lies around for two hours, people draw said nekked person. But during this time, transformations of the most beautiful kind occur. The transition from left-brain-dominated machine to connected participating observation is as clear as daylight! The time it takes for my body and mind and soul to meld varies depending on the day. Today, it took an hour and a half. For that period, my brain chastised my arm, wrist, and fingers. Why can’t I freaking draw this girl!? But the smoothing of waters occurred, as always, and I was participating yet again. My eyes caressed, my breath subdued, my ears listened to the sound of the medium on paper, and my fingers melded into the charcoal and out onto the paper.

In drawing, there is a certain method promoted by some teachers called “blind contour drawing.” Many architecture students are familiar with it. You place your pencil on the paper and draw as your eyes travel over the object, never looking down. If practiced, this mind-body connection becomes intuitive until such a connection becomes a place you go to.

This is my osmosis.

This is beauty. This is connection.

My last drawing of the night struck me as particularly beautiful. I reflected on this. What is so beautiful about it? Then it hit me: art is so personal and beautiful because it is a person’s way of channeling the Mind. It is a funnel, a path, a connection. Pure. When we look upon art, listen to music, dance, surf a wave, cook up a storm…when we do these things, we are linking two sides, not only of ourselves, but of our worlds . Afterwards, we regard what we’ve done with longing and nostalgia. It’s not so much the activity or product, but the process . Our process was beauty. It was connection and union, osmosis.

(And it also struck me that dancing, art, surfing…all these things reflect on one person’s interpretation of the same thing. We all experience music, a wave, an object…but our individual spin on things is so precious.)

Now, if we applied this process directly to our every day lives, we’d overwhelm ourselves, right? Now to find the balance…

And, again from the Daily Om:

The Pursuit Of Conscious Wholeness
Earthbound

Striking the right balance between our physical and spiritual aspects is one of the most challenging aspects of existence. We are dual beings by nature, spiritual entities bound to earth by physical bodies . In our lifetimes, we are charged with the duty of nurturing and tending both with equal devotion and love. Yet while both aspects of the self are deserving of honor and respect, there is a tendency for people who are more spiritually focused to ignore, avoid, or dismiss their bodies. Similarly, many individuals are entirely ensconced in the carnal realm and pay no attention to the needs of the soul. In both cases, an adjustment is in order. We are whole only to the degree that we embrace both sides of our beings.

If the soul is the inward manifestation of our consciousness, the body is the living, breathing expression of that consciousness. The physical self provides the home in which the spiritual self takes root and flourishes. Just as we must tend to the seed of the soul to ensure that it grows strong, so, too, must we care for the protective shell that is the body to make certain it is capable of playing its role in our development. Though there will no doubt be times in our lives when we feel more comfortable focusing on the spiritual self or the physical self, denying the fundamental importance of one or the other can lead to ill health, emotional distress, and a sense of incompleteness. Both facets of the human experience play a vital role in our well-being.

The body and the soul are the yin and yang of our current reality. They are, at this point of human evolution, irreparably bound together, and many spiritual teachers agree that the body is one of the greatest vehicles through which to access the soul. In fact, many believe that our spirit has chosen to be embodied as an essential part of our spiritual development. Consequently, it is the responsibility of each person on the planet to forge a marriage between the two, so that these disparate aspects bring out the best in each other, creating a vibrant, dynamic, and workable whole.

From The Daily Om

Tue, 13 Feb 2007 15:25:13 GMT

Of Equal Worth

[Humility] is an utter lack of self-importance. The individuals who embody the concept of humility appreciate that each human being on the planet occupies a unique place on an infinite spectrum of development. Though they can take pride in their own accomplishments, they also understand that the people they interact with each day are as valuable and have as much to offer the world as they themselves do.

[W]hile you may have a greater understanding in some areas, others will always be able to teach you something. When you cultivate a genuine yearning to know what skills and talents those you encounter have been blessed with, you cannot help but learn humility. You instinctively understand that emotions like envy breed resistance that prevents you from growing, and that being flexible in your interactions with others will help you connect with unexpected mentors.

When you practice humility, you want to become as accomplished and evolved as you can possibly be, yet you are willing to submit to the expertise of others to do so. Humility, simply put, is a form of balance in which you can celebrate your own worth while sincerely believing that every other person on the planet is just as worthy as you.

For you guys

Mon, 12 Feb 2007 01:55:26 GMT

All My Friends, By Amos Lee

All my friends
They all live in pain
Longing for the warmth of childhood to bring them home again
All my friends
They got broken hearts
And if the world’s a stage we’re searching for our parts

We’ll face the winds that break the strongest of trees
Beckon for the sweet soft summer breeze

All my friends
They got broken wings
Never will you hear them asking why the caged bird sings
All my friends
They know how to live
Oh, so much sorrow and so much love to give

We’ll face the winds that break the strongest of trees
Beckon for the sweet soft summer breeze

Now we all know that the storm is coming
Every body wants to know which way to go
I see the crowds a running
The wind’s gonna blow

All my friends are dear to me
Oh when the storm comes they’re as close as family
All my friends are the ones I choose
Oh, if I hear them knockin’
You know I can’t refuse

We’ll face the winds that break the strongest of trees
Beckon for the sweet soft summer breeze

All my friends

Sun, 11 Feb 2007 09:29:57 GMT

Well, 3 a.m. is as good a time as any to chuck out a journal entry!

As the Jan already posted, we had a lovely and beautiful dinner with a certain Ms. Nina. I cooked away at some stir fry while Jan and Nina chatted it up in the living room. Listening to them became the theme of the evening and I was muchly contended. Our conversation drifted all over the map, but a memorable moment was the creation of Cunnilingus, a large mammal. Cunnilingus lurks through the world making slurping sounds, dealing with bouts of emorhea, and using its clit-eye-rus to scan the world. It’s an amazing animal, a cross between a life-size Georgia O’Keefe painting and a Cyclops.

Ah, but I curled up in Jan’s one-sitter couch and watched these two girls transverse a beautiful discourse-landscape. To be present among them was enough—no, it was more than enough. It was perfectly wonderful. I could not have asked for a better evening.

Thereafter, Jan and I basked in post-dinner warm fuzzies. We turned on Gotan Project, lit some candles, and lay around in an asinine stupor. “Pisspee” became the center of my universe while Jan searched for ways to express her wastedness. Of the two of us, I don’t know which appeared more drunk vs who really was drunk. Muah ha ha.

Speaking of which, I had my first glass of wine. I wanted to see once and for all if my claim to sulfate-induced headaches really was true.

Nope.

Not true. But what was true was my dislike of the alcohol flavor. I knew this before and will just have to stick with it. I felt bad trying to conceal my hugely puckered face after every sip.

Today at work a 50 yr old hit on me and disclosed information on the corrupt people who are our very own Austin Police Department. (aka, child-molesters and thieves. Yippee!)

I finally planted my aloe plant!!!!!!! I’m so happy! It’s purrrrdy.

Oh, and I planted a garlic clove that tried to get away by growing sprouts! We’ll see how it turns out.

I had the lovely opportunity to go out with the smoking hot Mikela/Neko and her amazingly awesome girl, Kacey. We went to Sin, which is a yearly lesbian dance party at Sky Lounge. I’ve waited THREE years to go because I was *always* under-age. But not this year! HUAH! Oh dear lord, I was sooooo happy! The line to get in was sooo freaking long! Lesbos from all over Tejas were there! I was just so happy to be a part of a huge lesbo gathering. I have no idea how many showed, but it seemed like millions. And what a cross-section! Hotties to studlies to straighties to gothies to ravers to flannel-ers to you-name-it.

I came across: annoying drama-queen I had successfully avoided for nigh on 5 months, a woman I did a freelance job for and never got paid by, a Dom who wished to spank my butt (noooo thanks…), and (of course) a girl I awkwardly went on two or three dates with. That was nice, actually. I couldn’t remember her name, much less where exactly I’d met her. But it came back to me after I said hi. She looked pretty good, so I was glad my standards hadn’t gone down in the years of being alone. ;) Just kidding. But I said hi and gave her a hug. The first words out of her mouth were, “You look HOT! What the hell!? Why do you look so hot? What have you done? You look hot!” I kid you not. Hehe, what an ego boost. Ahem. So, of course, the first words out of Lindsey Mouth are “I got laid! Yay!” Of course, that’s the hot-maker right there. She was very polite in assuming that meant I had a girl and asked where she was. She then had to get back to dancing with her own girl.

So, it was great to be amongst all these girls who love girls. Very open, very free. I spent the remainder of the evening letting myself loose to techno house trance house stuff..or..something. By 1:00 the dance floor was free enough for me to do my usual bouncing around. I closed my eyes, smiled, and danced as free as ever. It felt soooo wonderful. It made me think of the pedestrian bridge by the railroad tracks and the free-style drum and beat dance sessions at night. I thought of Chris and how free it feels to dance like so. Mental note to do that again.

Mikela raved herself tired. I bounced my knees to the bone. Kacey watched us to death. And we left.

It was grand, beautiful, and deserved.

Tomorrow…ah..tomorrow…my ears are dreading the sound of silence already. But the bass was SO worth it…mmm…basss…….

Fri, 09 Feb 2007 04:28:05 GMT

I’m at another place where I need to write in order to move forward. Two days ago, yesterday, even, I was so full of life and beauty. Everything was in its place once more, finally. I remember trotting down the stairs with a huge smile on my face—just because.

Amos Lee’s self-titled CD is amazing. I highly recommend it.

Today I went to the dentist. I went to Dr. Mcelveen on E. MLK. I *highly, highly, HIGHLY* recommend this office. Everyone was amazingly sweet and friendly. I spent the whole time smiling (well, almost). I was called “mama” twice and treated as if I was everyone’s daughter or sister—in true genuineness. Never have I experienced such a medical experience. Go there if your insurance covers them! If not, a cleaning is only $68.

But, I was told that I’ve a cavity so bad that it’s eaten away at my whole tooth, leaving an acropolis-style enamel figurine behind. I always thought it was a wisdom tooth pushing through because it hurt and it wasn’t a full tooth. Gross. So…At the best I’ll be receiving the drilling and filling of a life time, at the worst I’ll be getting a root canal. I’m scared shitless of those things. Even the drilling…I’ve had this done once before and the feeling of being conscious while they drill into my head drove me out of my MIND. I was literally clawing at everything, including my legs, leaving marks for days thereafter. So, a root canal would leave me needing a crown, as well. This is all quite expensive because our insurance does not cover dental work other than cleaning. So, $400-$1000, thankyouverymuch.

Normally, this would be fine. Except…JB fell of a horse and broke his humor into two. The humor is the bone from your elbow to shoulder. He’ll most likely need a rod placed in there. In the mean time, he’s in anguishing grossness induced by a swollen arm, two pieces of one bone that scrape against each other, and nausea induced by vicodin. I feel for him…It’s very hard to listen to him over the phone because his voice is so distorted in pain, grossed-outness, and drugs.

My poor mom is doing what she does best—care for us. She’s taken a half a week off work to care for JB. I’m so amazed at her devotion. Granted, that’s what you do for a spouse—but you don’t *have* to. She does. She spent two weeks with me after my nose surgery. (I think? Time was fuzzy..) And if I get a root canal, you can bet she’ll try to come down to take care of me.

Growing up, I don’t think I was aware of the security she provided. I need to thank her for the sacrifices she made so that I could play in our neighborhood and eat breakfast with a cereal box to read every morning. And she’s the reason I’m in school; she’s the reason for so much. Ugh, Jesus…too much to think about there.

I need to pay more attention to my dreams. I remember the period in high school when everyone I loved died. Recently, I read this may mean that if you dream such things, it means you are lacking the qualities those people represent. I never thought of it this way, obviously. But upon doing so, it makes a hell of a lot of sense. Mrs. Cardon represented self-knowledge and confidence. JB represented patient and quiet strength. Mom represented courage. All these people died in my dreams in the months leading up to my realization that I needed therapy. Mom was the last person to die in my dreams. I’ve not dreamt such a thing in 3 or 4 years….does that mean I’ve become fuller of a person? Maybe.

But my dreams are being explicit without me knowing right away. The mud and bridge dream…it makes so much sense.

And there is something that is so impatient, anxious, and unsettled today. Something is gnawing at me, pushing me to keep checking things. Check this, check that. Is it done? What is it? What are you checking, Lindsey? What are you waiting for? I’m waiting for a finish, some sort of termination. But I don’t know what for. I see a lot in front of me, a lot in the future. For some reason I’m feeling the need to cut myself from the present and past in order to go for that future.

In May, I will be traveling to Portland to visit the Aud. I’m excited to see the town, as I’ve heard nothing but good about it. I’ll also be flying to San Miguel, Mexico. UT is paying for 12 interior design student’s airfare, so I said Hell Yeah. I told my mom about this tonight, mistakingly. She responded with “No you are not! Do you know how I feel about Mexico?? *sigh* Of course I do. I told her that I am going to do what I am going to do, regardless of her consent. And sooner or later I’m getting my ass over to Asia. She told me to please not remind her of such things.

I met with my mentor today for the semi-first time. His name is Hugh and he owns/runs his own 3 person firm on 6th Street. A graduate of Tulane, then UT, he is a normal guy. He drives a Prius (which I had the pleasure of riding in), has two kids, and actively practices average architecture. As is puts it, he explores the line between horrible crap and rich/posh homes. He’s doing a very good job at achieving his objectives, in my opinion. I’ve never met someone who actively strives for mediocre. But it suits his fancy while not looking horrible.

Fortunately, the relationship between mentor and mentee does not base itself on quality of work. It’s based on experience, ability to communicate, and interest. We’ve all three established. I’m excited. He has already invited me to his house for dinner with his wife and kids. His wifey does interiors (of the decorating variety, I am afraid), but it’s still a design-oriented house. So yay.

Today we went on a driving tour of the homes he’s designed and built in the Terrytown/Windsor area. Our final destination was a house under construction. The smell of wood coupled with the sight of house framing, and mingled with the ability to crawl around and climb upon unfinished framing made me so happy. It reminded me of my summer in Santa Monica spent doing site visits to verify the house was being built according to plan. It reminded me of my years spent in Pennsylvania, trespassing every day in order to climb through houses under construction, creating mazes out of 2x’s and lying on the plywood just to smell it. And most importantly, it reminded me of my future, telling me that whatever I design, it must have an immediacy with it being built. I need to go out to the site to experience it under construction, to visualize, and to be a part of.

Perhaps this summer I will finally achieve one of my pseudo-goals of being a female carpenter. It’s always always always been attractive to me and I’ve the perfect female-run carpentry team right around the corner that I can approach. Maybe I can pursue this on my weekends over the summer…Kali Construction, that’s the name.

So many things I want to do. Construction, painting, modeling, guitaring, traveling, language-learning, loving, changing, photographing, writing, loving, visiting, meeting, influencing, learning, loving, planting, tree-growing, child-rearing, cleansing, honoring, bicycling, bike-maintaining, drawing, remembering, connecting, wind-surfing, water-skiing, concert-going, loving.

I hope my life lasts long enough to accomplish even a fourth of what I want to do. But above all, I want to love. Love large, long, and beautifully.

Nickels and dimes

Sun, 04 Feb 2007 02:33:53 GMT

Ahhh! AHHHFSDKFJHDSL!! I just talked to my DAD and he made me LAUGH. We talked about mutual funds, bonds, UGMA Funds, and credit cards! Lines of credit! Investments! Nickels and dimes!

And it was GREAT! I *learned* things from him! His voice was that of education, guidance, and interest! OH MY GOD! Can this be for real? YES!

AHHHHHHHHHH! *twirls!*

I had a great conversation with my dad.

Twinkles

Sun, 04 Feb 2007 01:00:00 GMT

Last evening, upon entering the apartment in a flurry of shittyness, I came upon a note left by the Left Hand of Jan. It invited me to falafel patties (Bonus point #1) and described a beautiful feeling she had in reference to us (Bonus points #2,3, and 4.) I was made happy,very happy. Not to mention it was in her great penmanship (Bonus point #5.)

Today at work, I was placed outside to direct patrons to various ticketing areas. One old man appeared to be looking for a pen in his jacket, so I offered mine. He kindly declined, saying he was looking for his phone. From here he talked to me for about 2 minutes, in which time I laughed twice. He finished by saying, "Thank you for talking to me. Thank you for laughing. Goodbye." With that, he walked off. I was so happy...

He had thanked me for laughing.

A quote

Tue, 16 Jan 2007 17:26:07 GMT

"The Americans are forcing even their friends into becoming their enemies. It is curious that the Americans, who calculate so carefully on the possibilities of military victory, do not realize that in the process they are incurring deep psychological and political defeat. The image of America will never again be the image of revolution, freedom, and democracy, but the image of violence and militarism."

-Buddhist leader in Vietnam, 1967

New Mexico, Part II

Tue, 16 Jan 2007 03:39:38 GMT

Rumblings of distant dessert called us out of our primitive shelter and down the ravine. Once on the path along the river, Lucy made an effort to learn more about my life. She asked where I’d want to travel and why. I could not answer her. For some reason, I become mute about my life around her. Her presence transcends facts and events, pulling forth something deeper, more somber, and silent within me. I answered her question as best I could, but ended with an unspoken lack of confidence. She is the only person I am this transparent with; I find no reason to mask any of me thoughts or feelings with her. This is because I feel the same unconditional love from her. She doesn’t care what I do or how. She just loves me…totally. I feel naked in front of her all the time and am comfortable with this transparency.

My answer, and its resounding lack of solidity, made her laugh that special, non-threatening laugh.

“Please tell me you’ve seen Motorcycle Diaries.”

I shook my head no and listened to her explanation of how the character in the movie sets out on a journey to achieve one goal, yet finds his whole life altered by one trek. I laughed in spite myself. She knows me to the T, without any verbal aid. I nodded, as well, telling her that that was my grand scheme…to change the world starting with myself.

“What’s holding you back? Why are you so uncertain?”

I’ve heard these questions countless times. Honestly, I don’t want to answer them. The answer is too stupid and trivial to be an impediment, but I cling to it anyway…out of sheer timidity. That’s it. I’m timid. I am scared I will not follow through; I am scared of being home sick, lost, without guidance. I’m scared I’ll fail before I even take off…

Again, she laughed. “You!?! But you’ve done so much already! Just look at where you’ve been and what you’ve accomplished.”

A part of me thought, “Well, of course…anyone who gets out of New Mexico is special.” I slapped that voice. New Mexico does not equal failure. It is just as rich as Los Angeles. I then began thinking about the subjective nature of one’s accomplishments. Living up to another’s expectations can be a brutal thing, especially if you do not realize that we must measure our success by our own gauge, not by an external one. Conversations with Brian flew through my brain.

It’s true. One’s concept of influence is “Name in lights! You’ll headline all the newspapers!” But that is the generic, larger than life scale. Pressure to succeed rarely considers our lives as the remarkable pieces of sand they are. We are all pieces of sand…equal in capacity to affect one another. I just want to impact the lives of people. Number does not count. Over time, influences will spread and a difference will be made.

I looked at Lucy in profile. Her eyes were on the ground and she was smiling as we walked. She is happy, if not restless. I respect and love her.

We crossed the river again. This time I kept my shoes off as we mushed through the mud. Beautiful patterns were revealed by the lack of water. The mud sunk underfoot like a piece of satin foam, oozing between my toes and creating a satisfying squishy sound.

The water was just as cold as when we left it. I splashed my neck as best I could and tried my best to make it across in one quick march. The foot headaches returned and I found myself stranded in a small mud bank, holding my feet into the mud for warmth. Lucy crossed in one try—show off. I followed and we leaned on eachother to put our shoes and socks back on.

The day was still young, yet the sun was nearing the horizon of mountains. We walked back to her house silently, each of us knowing this phase of my visit too well. After an awkward good-by, see you in a few days, I headed towards the highway for Albuquerque.

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Over the course of the drive up, I had the joy of experiencing the middle of the desert before and after sunset. Every minute brought with it a new landscape. Shadows and sunlight constantly shifted the scenery. The desert was turning over in its sheets, restless before sleep.

I was so filled with joy to have seen Lucy for so long. On top of that, memories of car rides to Elephant Butte and Albuquerque filled my mind, coloring the landscape and transforming my car into a Chevrolet Astro, then my old Z24. Voices from the past revisited me and the landscape stood as honest as ever.

I used this time to solidify memories Lucy told me about. As usual, we spent a lot of our conversation time remembering things. Her memory is an emotional one. Sentences usually start with “I remember you were feeling…” I love that about her. Facts are not recorded; rather, the essence is remembered. Fortunately for the both of us, we both remember things the other does not. Thanks to her, I now know I saw Frida for the first time with her. I remember crying in the movie theater, but I never thought to question who was beside me.

“Oh, you don’t remember that? I remember you weren’t feeling well that day…something had upset you. I asked if you wanted to go, if you were sure, and you said yes. Afterwards you said you felt so inspired to create…”

Really? I had no clue. I am so glad I saw that movie with her. It really affected me emotionally and I feel safe knowing I experienced that with Lucy.

I am trying to think of what other things she reminded me of…but it’s been a week and my memory has already faded. This is why I journal.

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I arrived in Albuquerque in time to take a much needed shower in Kris’s dorm apartment thing. There I saw Caleb, as well, and we shared a lovey-dovey hug. Caleb’s social life continues to expand exponentially, so he ran off to coordinate while I took a much needed mental siesta in Kris’s room. I think? I can’t remember what I did.

The evening took an even more exciting turn as we decided going to a porn/sex store would be more interesting than watching TV. It’s unfortunate that such stores aren’t more creative…But I did learn that porn on DVD is hella expensive. As Caleb pointed out, who would by porn for $70 when you can get it online for free..? You got me.

After a delightful night’s sleep on a very squishy couch, I took off for Santa Fe the next morning. The drive was wonderful, as snow showed up everywhere. It was hard to believe this was the same state that housed a non-snowy place like Las Cruces. I reveled in the scenery (and especially in the $1.99 gas) for the hour or so it took to get there. My first stop was the visitor’s center, where my car came face-to-face with snow for the first time since I’ve owned it. There was kitty litter in my trunk juuuust in case I needed to get out of a slippery situation. =)

I learned Santa Fe is a walkable city, especially after one has traversed Boston carrying carry-on luggage and after one has walked 15 miles in one NYC day. Santa Fe was a piece of cake. First I did the tourist-y things, which include San Miguel (self-proclaimed as the oldest church in continual use in the USA), Saint Francisco Cathedral, and the Santa Fe Plaza. I happened upon a “tour” in San Miguel. I say tour for lack of better word, as does that describe a man talking to 5 people in a one-room church? The priest’s voice lured me to stay, so I listened. While the history was not remarkable in a white person sense, I recalled my architectural history in order to read through the lies and propaganda the church still uses. This, quite frankly, disgusted me. The priest described the church as having been built by “Native Americans who accompanied the Spanish Conquistadors.” Let’s dissect. If by Native Americans you mean people from central Mexico and Central America…And if by “accompany” you mean forcibly removed from their homes, forced into slavehood, and marched hundreds and thousands of miles…and if by “built” you mean forced into involuntary work because of their skills at stone cutting…and if by “church” you mean the organization responsible for forcibly converting Native Americans into Christianity and their despicable Angle ways…then you are right. The priest smiled so sweetly, telling the two older couples a lie about two cultures meeting and uniting for the sake of God Almighty. What a beautiful story.

I ate a lunch of hummus and bread in the town plaza. While there, I sketched. Something did not feel correct. It was the fact that I was a tourist. On the northern side of the plaza, lined up against the southern-facing wall of the governor’s palace, sits a row of artisans who bring their crafts to the plaza daily in hopes of selling to tourists. They are Native American and Spanish in descent. Their families have lived in Santa Fe for generations. Their eyes speak more than their words. The space has a very distinct and somber feel to it. I walked down the line not to look at their wares, but to look within the people. My eyes faltered out of respect—I could not make eye contact with these individuals without feeling like an invader. I did not want to be another tourist. I wanted to learn through looking in someone’s eyes at the person therein. One woman truly caught my eye. I stopped in front of her and asked a very dumb question about necklace making. I knew the answer already, but I wanted to find some way to talk to her. I failed miserably and resigned to a park bench in the park square, then proceeded to draw her from a distance. Each time I tentatively looked up from my sketchbook I saw her gazing at me. I felt better.

Instead of finding more tourist sites, I meandered through the older homes in the area. Many alleys and narrow streets opened up for my curiosity. With camera in hand I explored the secrets of Santa Fe. The colors of the houses made me smile. Beautiful warm adobe punctuated by vibrant teal window sashes, red berries on trees, and white snow.

I returned to Albuquerque reluctantly. If time and weather had permitted, I would have loved to have taken a lazy drive up to Taos, through small downs with magic in them. Instead, I joined Caleb for some down-right good-n-hot Mexican food. I got a burrito worthy of salivation…it was decorated with sumptuously spicey greeeeen chile. We ate and talked, but mostly talked. It felt wonderfully comfortable to shed away years and changes in order to get back to the basics. As with Lucy, I mainly listened. But Caleb’s insistence on hearing my world is a bit more pushy than Lucy’s, so I had a chance to talk about my life. The familiar patterns of words, misunderstandings, and illogical moments resurfaced and I found myself perfectly content to sit with him.

I am so very happy and amazed at where he is and where he plans to be. He has taken his education by the wheel and is exploring everything of interest to him. It’s almost restless, the way he pursues college. I admire his curiosity and follow-through…I’m so proud of him.

Our dinner was followed by a night of karaoke. Karaoke place #1 would not allow minors in, so we were redirected to a placed named “Exhale.” Thinking this to be a fascinating name, we all went. It sounded like a strip club to me…We arrived and found the place to be mildly deserted. A bar greeted us with a dance floor adjacent to it. Stairs lead up from the floor to a second floor overlooking the scene. It was spacious and non-pretentious. I noticed a dyke-ish looking woman on the way in, but thought nothing of it. We all settled down and watched some women sing. Noticing some pictures on the wall downstairs, I went down to investigate. There sure were a lot of girls in the pics..but hey, it’s a bar. But wait! There’s a photo of a…lesbian wedding!? Oh my god! It IS one! Whoa!! How cool! I then re-scanned the pics and found many homos in them. OH! We’re in a lesbian bar!! I went upstairs and found that everyone else was keen on this info now, too. Heheheee! That made me quite happy. Karaoke in a lesbo bar in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Caleb’s friends sure can sing. We can’t, but we decided to put Seether and Amy Lee’s “Broken” to rest by singing it for karaoke. Oye, not doing *that* again. It was cute, though.

The night wore down and I said my farewells to Caleb for this visit. A pretty good night’s sleep put me in a good enough mood to drive back home. A few hours later I was at Lucy’s doorstep again in Cruces. We had another memory-laden 10 minute conversation, then I was back in my car again. Picked up Mark; noticed the hung-over appearance of his friends; and headed back east.

The ride home was too scary to describe on here. Once night fell, the deer and possibility of death for all was terrifying. My eyes were so strained and my mind so scared that the slightest movement on the side of the highway made me jump and swerve. I was on the verge of tears twice because of how close we were to deer standing on the side of the road. I called Kura from Sonora and asked her to send good, safe thoughts my way. I had already been chanting “Safety, love, safety” in my head and continued to do so until we were safe on the air bridges of south Austin. I’m NEVER driving at night in the hill country again.

And that, my friends, was New Mexico.

To see more pictures, visit flickr.com and look for Lindsbian's photos.