Six Days

Six days. It took six days for the tears to come; To feel anything for certain.  I was starting to wonder if I’d ever cry over my grandmother’s death. 

A single sympathy card arrived today; I don’t expect any others.  It was from the woman who had petitioned to take over legal guardianship over her decision making.  A woman named Christy who I owe an enormous debt of gratitude, even though it may have mostly been “part of the job” for her.  I still don’t think I could handle dealing with any of it right now. 

She was my father’s mother, but I never really knew my father. That made things awkward sometimes.  Her name was Judy and her first husband’s last name was Judy and that is probably the only funny thing about this story.  Her married name was Judy Judy or Judy (squared) as I joked with her many years ago after she told me this tale.  How horribly comedic and yet, somehow tragic, because she married an alcoholic and her only son became a drug addict. 

Years later, the year 2004 in fact, she was so bitter about her earlier life decisions that she made no secret of her regret for marrying this man and having this child.  I had just graduated college at the time, and even my optimism waned at this profession of honesty.  I heard my grandmother say she wished she never had my father…

Of course, to understand how conflicted I may have felt at the time, I need to back up to my mother.  She did the best she could with what options she had, of that I’m certain, and I want to be clear that I don't want to cast blame on anyone.  But when I was young, she wasn't honest about who my dad was.  Then, when I was about ten, this woman showed up in my life who claimed to be my dad’s mother, and I guess it was true because from that point on, this women who I have always called Judy, and not grandma, was to be a part of my life. 

Judy wanted to be involved but her son never did.  Later on, I learned that my mom didn’t want him around and I respected that.  Even later, I learned that he had other kids with other women.  I have a brother and a sister whom I’ve never met. Weird.

Fast forward to High School Graduation.  I took my first major trip alone by train up to Oregon to visit Judy.  It was a lot of fun. She was still very active and in reasonably good spirits and she had this great apartment overlooking a river.  I will never forget how awesome that trip was.  If you’ve ever been to Oregon, you will understand how lush and amazing it can be in the right season. 

After that, I went to college and took way too long to get a bachelor’s degree (even though nobody seemed to care how long it took).  I took another trip up to visit her after I graduated and had landed my first real job.  This time, her son had been living with her for a while and was trying to get sober and sorted out. He had lost custody of both of his other children because of drug abuse.  When I made my plans to visit, Judy made him find somewhere else to go for the week.  This is the trip where she expressed negative views on marriage and having kids and to be honest, the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth.  I left there feeling like I didn’t know if I wanted to keep in touch with her or not.

My dad died in July of 2011. I remember it well because it was my last week at a particularly important job.  I had met him for the first time since I was a small child in the beginning of that year.  We only spent a short time together and it was mostly conversation deflected at the guy I brought along with me, but still… I’m glad I got to.

Without him as her caretaker, Judy’s health and well being deteriorated.  She lost almost everything and ended up being moved all over the place to the point that I lost track of her for a few months.  When I found her again, she insisted on going back to Salem, Oregon.

I agreed to drive her and her cat up there and help her find a place to live.  This turned out to be one of the single hardest journeys of my life.  I have never had to take care of another person for any length of time and all of a sudden I was renting a car, driving, making hotel arrangements, getting the wheelchair in and out of the car every time she got out, loading and unloading ALL the bags (plus the cat, catbox, food, etc.), helping her get in and out of the car, helping her go to the bathroom, dealing with adult diapers and all that entails, dealing with bathing, helping her get dressed, researching what living arrangement options she had, trying to figure out what to do. Meanwhile the whole trip up the cat was unhappy and shitting in his carrier, so ya - I had to clean cat shit up before we even got to the first hotel… HARDEST FUCKING JOURNEY TO DATE.

I finally found a place that would take her and that she agreed with, and we parted ways.  I went back a couple days later to check in and things were ok.  I headed back to California and spoke with her once or twice after that.  It became clear to me that it wouldn’t be easy to contact her and I admit that I lost the motivation after a while… then someone else stepped in, in a legal capacity. 

That pretty much brings us up to date.  She was in hospice care last week.  She died on Monday, February 11, 2012.  She was married twice, had one son with her first husband and has 3 grandchildren.  Her name was Judy Hauser.

You Win Some. You Lose Some. (& also Religion)

It seems my role in life is usually relegated to that of translator, diplomat, & guide.  I don’t mind it, but I also wish people could see where I come from as easily as I see it myself.  I find the best advice is that which is random and taken out of context.  In fact, one of the best pieces of advice I've ever received professionally is, “you win some, you lose some”.  Try applying that when you have a tendency toward insanely detailed perfectionism.

Today I had a conversation with someone who I am just getting to know.  I really like our interaction so far. I feel like this is a person who I “get” in many ways because he reminds me of myself.  He recently shared an experience of “feeling something inside him break” and he came into work announcing that he wasn't going to let anything get to him.  I’m not sure that he realized how big of a deal that was.  I got a chance to tell him so today.  We vaguely talked about our issues and I tried to explain how my understanding of Buddhism has really helped me understand my own social anxiety issues and helped me cope and how the experience he had was one that many people are willing to pay for; the experience of letting go of what we can’t control and accepting that the only thing that’s real is the here and now. 

He wants to get a tattoo that reminds me of some Buddhist philosophy, but was, in fact, Greek origin and I said something to the effect of “Truth is truth no matter what the origin”.  This, of course, reminds me of how I came into Buddhism. 

I grew up in a “liberal” Catholic family with some treks to the Lutheran church my great grandmother attended.  We were a family that accepted the Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Mary, Saints, evolution, ESP, auras, horoscopes, and reincarnation.  Yeah, we were not your typical Catholics.  So I felt free to explore and I remember becoming very disgruntled at an early age. In fact, I was so distraught by my philosophical musings that by the age of 9 I had decided I was an atheist.  In high school I grasped for meaning and belonging and tried to find my place anywhere that was what I considered “anti-christian”: Satanism and paganism.  My resources were limited. I fell in with people and ideas that were part of an agenda more so than anything real on my end.  But it was never serious.  I think in high school, religion was not that big of a concern so I wanted to be evil because it was the anti to what I was angry at as a younger person, but I didn't really understand enough about it.

In college, I finally had some real experience with some of those groups. I got involved online with a group of Satanists (Church of Satan, not “devil worshipers") and I learned rather quickly that I did not fit in with them either. I explored aspects of paganism at this time as well. While I agreed with the basic principles and desired the aspect of ritual and community, I couldn't find a place there either.

It wasn't until I took a class called Philosophy and Religion of India that everything came together and became clear to me.  Now, I admit I had somewhat of preference for non-American culture at the time.  I had traveled to England, Scotland and France and loved it immensely.  But, I never sought out Eastern Philosophy during my soul searching days of yore. 

Have you ever had the experience of knowing that you have learned something new and it was amazing?  Like a light went on in your mind where there was just darkness?  That’s one kind of learning experience - and I've had a few of those as well.  But in this class, I had an experience altogether different.

When I began reading what the basic tenants of Buddhism were, in the context of it’s Hindu origins, I had the experience of: “Ahah!  This is how to articulate what I already know to be true about life”. Not: “this is new information”.  It was odd to find a language to express these deep sentiments and feelings about life after searching and giving up and just feeling so lost.  This also gave me a language to understand and discuss Western religion for the first time.  For the first time ever I understood that the religion I had grown up with had a historical context and that I could understand that context and appreciate the message instead of feeling constricted by dogma.

If anything, this experience reinforced one of the Buddha’s teachings that I came to hear much later. “If you see the Buddha in the road, kill him”.  What this means to me is that you shouldn't take a person’s claims to be enlightened at face value, but also that our expectations of “the Buddha” will cloud our judgment and it’s possible that we've already come face to face with that “being” a million times without realizing it.  “kill him” is not to be taken literally.  It means, destroy the concept in your mind of this perfect “enlightened” being you call the Buddha, because he only exists in your mind.  It also refers to who we accept as our teachers.  If we take on a teacher, they are not Gods.  They make mistakes and that doesn't change the teachings.  If a teacher or teaching goes against what you KNOW in your heart to be true, maybe the teacher or teaching is wrong. 

What I just realized as I type this is that Buddhism, for me, has been a way for me to learn to trust myself. To trust my instincts about life.  And you know what?  I am rarely wrong in that.

Korean Tofu Soft Tacos

Inspired by another recipe for Korean Tofu Tacos, I whipped this up for brunch this morning and it was quite delicious!  I didn't measure ingredients because although much of the time cooking is a science, it is also an art!  

I started with approx. 8 oz. of firm tofu (half a standard sized package) and the basting liquid came out to about 1/4 C.

Blend the following in order, to taste (should be balanced between sweet, salty, tangy, and spicy):

-Brown sugar (start with 1 Tbsp and add other stuff to taste)

-Rice vinegar

-Bragg’s Liquid Aminos (or Soy Sauce)

-Garlic chili sauce (Vietnamese)

You should make just enough to baste the tofu.

Cut Firm tofu into ½” thick slabs, pat them dry in a paper towel or clean cloth towel and then brown in a skillet, with or without olive oil or non-stick spray.  Spoon the sauce over the tofu and spread it evenly on the top side.  When tofu has started to brown, flip it over and repeat, generously covering the top of the tofu. Cook until liquid is absorbed.

Heat a flour tortilla, spread a scant amount of Veganaise on it, layer some lettuce leaves, sweet onion slices and Mexican pickled carrots with a few tofu slabs, fold it, eat it, yum!

Breakfast Frittata Quesadilla

Breakfast Frittata Quesadilla
(makes one large quesadilla for 1-2 people)

Step 1:
1/2 C chopped onion (I use Maui sweet)
1 C (approx.) chopped cauliflower
handful of chopped mushrooms (optional)

Sautee these in a skillet on medium heat until cauliflower is tender. Reduce heat to medium-low.

Step 2:
2 eggs
1 tsp Smoked Paprika (or to taste after you've made the recipe once)
dashes each of garlic powder, salt, and pepper

Blend together well, then add to the skillet, covering all the veggies. Cook on medium-low heat until set or you can flip sections over to cook the underside.

Step 3:
when the eggs are almost done heat up two flour tortillas (I use the "soft taco" size). I use a griddle pan which makes this easy: Start with one Tortilla, melt a layer of cheese, add the egg and veggie mix, another layer of cheese, the other tortilla. Press with Spatula until melty, flip and toast the other side for a minute...Voila!

Top it with avocado or salsa. Best eaten with a knife and fork, in my opinion.

Changing careers is imminent.

Then I watch DR. WHO and feel good about being alive....  and I watch Warehouse 13 and wondering about changing careers...

F U BOOK!

Facebook is a “social network” but I don’t think people think much about what that means.  The first mistake is calling everyone you add to you social network your “friend”. This causes a lot of awkward situations when people invariably opt to “unfriend” people for various reasons, most of them not reflecting any real relationship status.  For example, suppose I added someone that I barely knew to begin with or someone that I hadn’t spoken to or seen in 20 years AND after receiving their “news feed” consisting of daily updates on what they’ve had for breakfast, lunch, or dinner – I might decide that I don’t really care about keeping in touch after all.

Facebook is basically 1 part novelty, 1 part nostalgia, 1 part networking, 1 part keeping in touch with people you give two craps about but don’t have time to talk to on a regular basis, and 1 part communicating with your actual friends and family.  Once the novelty of seeing how your best friend or arch nemesis from high school has been doing all these years wears off, you are left with a hollow feeling because as an older, wiser person you probably care more about real relationships than you did back then.  And it takes a while to sink in, so for a while you keep repeating the process because each new “old acquaintance” you rekindle fills the void left by the last one who left you high and dry mid-comment thread.

The other major mistake that Facebook users make is thinking that interacting on Facebook REPLACES maintaining real friendships in the real world.  Some people (myself included) need body language and voice inflection or a whole damn lot of chat time with someone to UNDERSTAND what they are communicating.  If we don’t have these things, conversations can turn nasty in an instant when people misunderstand one another, ESPECIALLY with people you feel particularly close to.  This leads to people being offended by off-hand remarks and differences of opinion, because in the real world, timing is everything, and you’d know when to keep your mouth shut by the look on someone’s face.

Katrianne (my blood-elf rogue), wearing beer goggles at Brewfest...

At a certain point, I decided to stop taking Facebook so seriously.  I mean, I have tried to “use it” for my own purposes and discovered that it is alive and has its own agenda.  So every time I see someone’s status that says “If you don’t want me to delete you from my friends…do this…” or “I know nobody will repost this because you don’t care about children dying of AIDS..” or whatever, I IGNORE IT COMPLETELY.  Because, that’s NOT why I am on Facebook… I don’t need to advertize myself because people aren’t going to understand who I really am anyways.  I’m not selling myself because nobody is there to buy my product anyways.  I’ve already caught up with the 20 people that don’t hate me from high school and I’ve managed to find peace with the fact that one of my ex-best friends in real life “unfriended” me on Facebook and real life because of a comment thread… on, you guessed it, Facebook! 

I’m tired of taking it personally when that cute guy that you have a great rapport with in person doesn’t even respond to your personal messages anymore.  I’m tired of seeing my friend with a small child post shit on Facebook every day and then turn around and NEVER respond to any messages I send her.  I’m tired of family getting offended if I say Fuck on my page. I’m tired of feeling like I have to hide my true personality for fear of offending someone who hardly ever gives me two seconds of their time in real life.  And I’m tired of hearing other people complain about Facebook drama. 

As someone who has at one time or another felt betrayed, abandoned, ridiculed, misunderstood, and yes… even offended, by people’s public displays of idiocy and carelessness with words on Facebook, I just don’t care anymore.  I think I’ll go outside and feel the wind in my hair or maybe even read a book.

Who am I?

I have a confession of sorts. A few months ago, I started paying attention to this guy (let's call him JH) I barely know but who is my Facebook "friend". I didn't have the guts to talk to him until recently.  And even so, it wasn't until I was drinking one night that I managed to write and say “Hey, we have stuff in common. We should hang out.”  He responded enthusiastically, which is awesome.  There are a lot of things I have learned over the past few years. One of them is that I do better with organic relationships (meaning the kind that just happen because of circumstance as opposed to the kind you go looking for on purpose like dating sites).  He reminds me of that.  Because we know each other from a real world situation and have many friends in common, i think we would have hung out at some point, even if I hadn't sent that email.

I have been thinking about how much my last real boyfriend affected me.  Sure, I have dated people in the last 3 years, but really, I haven’t had a committed relationship since then.  When I left my ex, I realized I didn’t know who I was anymore.  I didn’t know what kind of music I liked, movies I liked, decorative style I had, among other things.  And when I left that relationship I was definitely scarred on the inside. All the things that he was into became a symbol of things I didn't want to do anymore because I needed to find myself.  In many ways, I went the complete opposite just to get away from the memories.  But now as I enter into a friendship with someone who doesn't remind me of my ex at all but is into ALL the same stuff, I feel it may be time to let go of that boundary I set for myself.  It is time I healed that wound.

After a time I accepted the reality that I may not get married.  I am not against it, but I’ve never been one of those girls who sought it out either.  I also don’t seek out having kids.  That’s not to say I don’t see the value in the experience of raising children or deny that I would consider having kids with the right man.  I just don’t want to be a single mother.  Sue me.

A guy once commented on how much I liked to cook. I feel pretty domestic at times.  He felt that my attitude of liking to cook, especially liking to cook for a guy, was a reflection of oppressiveness.  I tried to explain that when I cook I feel in tune with women in my family (and women from the beginning of time) because my family is matriarchal.  We’re a very creative bunch and I feel I’m communicating creatively and artistically by cooking and crafting and anything else I do at home. 

How Awesome are We?

At the risk of sounding self-absorbed or conceited, sometimes I get sad when I realize that people don’t know how awesome I am.  If we wore our experiences in life on our sleeves like the merit badges they should be, then people could tell just by looking at me that I have been a world traveler, a performer, an archaeologist – among many other things.  But sadly, we carry these extremely important parts of ourselves inside, where only we can see them most of the time. 

Let me be clear; I am not just talking about myself here.  I don’t know how awesome YOU are either and that is heartbreaking.  So next time you find yourself not knowing how awesome the person next you is, you should try and find out. 

Crepes with Seitan, Mushrooms and Spinach in a Cream Sauce

This was my first attempt at making crepes. I had the help of the Maxim Crepe Maker - a very nifty gadget!  The manual for the crepe maker includes this basic batter recipe, which i used:

Basic Batter

They keep for weeks in the freezer, days in the refrigerator.
Batter can be used immediately. However, an hour or two standing
time will produce slightly more tender crepes. Or, refrigerate batter
up to three days for use as needed.
 

1 cup all-purpose flour
2 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons butter or margarine, melted

 Place ingredients in blender container in the order given. Blend 30 seconds, stop and stir down sides. Blend 30-60 seconds until smooth. Or, mix in bowl with wire whisk or mixer, first combining flour and eggs, adding liquid gradually. Beat until smooth; add other ingredients. Makes about 16 crepes.

                                      

The first few crepes!  The gadget works by heating a nonstick round surface which is dipped into the batter for a few seconds to evenly coat and then it is flipped over and set flat.  A light indicator lets you know when its done (along with browning and curling edges) and then you hold it upside down and the crepe falls right off onto the plate.  I only had 2 stick to the surface and I just used a spatula to help it along.

 The Filling! 

Seitan, Mushrooms and Spinach in a Cream Sauce

Everything is approximate.  I created this on the fly using what I had on hand.

1/4 of a sweet yellow onion, chopped

8oz. Seitan (wheat gluten "fake meat"), chopped

8oz. Mushrooms, coarsely chopped

a couple handfuls of spinach, coarsely chopped

1T olive oil

2T butter

1 garlic clove, minced

1-2 T Dry Vermouth

1-2T flour

1/4 C Half and Half

Worcestershire Sauce, or to taste

Salt and Pepper to taste

Coat a frying pan over medium heat with olive oil and half the butter.  Sautee the onion for a few minutes then add Seitan, stirring often. Cook until Seitan starts to brown.  Add mushrooms, the rest of the butter, garlic, and dry vermouth.  Cook until the mushrooms shrink and release their juices.  Push the food to one side so the liquid collects on the other side and mix the flour into this well, creating a roux.  Next, add the half and half and mix it well, then mix it back with the food until everything is coated.  Add the spinach and stir often until it is just softened (you don't want to overcook spinach).  Adjust flavor with Worcestershire, salt and pepper.

 

I smeared a little bit of Chinese-style chili sauce on top, but any chili one likes will probably taste good.
 (yes, I'm talking about Tapatio..)

Ahh, the sweet taste of success!!

Decoupage - The Flower Box

 I started with an old box and an image from an old book on Bulbs.

 

 The box top had been painted white long ago.  I added a new coat.

 I am going to use the box for storing my silverware (the good stuff).

 I decided to give the whole box a white wash with paint.

 Then, I used about 10 coats of Mod Podge over several days to adhere and coat the image to the box.

 

The Finished Product!

Crafting: My first knot necklace!

I started this two years ago after I bought a book on Celtic knotwork.  Life got in the way of finishing it, but I finally did it tonight!

Jane of all Trades: Paleontologist

One of the things that I do is paleontology.  It is what I'm currently getting paid to do.  These are photos from an excavation that took place in 2007 where we found a Giant Ground Sloth in Irvine approximately 20' below the modern surface.

That's me in the middle.  We are mapping the exposed bones in the ground using a 1 x 1 meter square grid and sketching it onto a large piece of paper also on a grid.  (The sloth is obviously supervising).  This became the company Christmas card for that year.

 This is a picture from the OC Weekly about the story.  There I am on the left, mapping.

 This Ground Sloth had a lot of ribs!

We found a good chunk of the skull here, with a few teeth.

 This is what happens when a piece of large equipment scrapes over a fossil.  This used to be a leg or arm bone, i believe.  It is quite common for one or two bones to be hit by machinery... unfortunate, but it is part of the reason we found the animal at all!

  These are some backbones (vertebrae).

Up close view of a tooth.

Jane Says:

Sometimes I feel real bad about life, sometimes I suffer inside to the point where I can understand how people want to die.  But sometimes, I feel like I haven't suffered enough.  I haven't hit bottom yet.

So I drink too much and I engage in reckless behavior...I challenge danger and spit in his face - taunting, hoping he'll hit me back, hard, knocking me to the ground all bloody and broken.  I make bad choices and I let in the wrong people.  I keep myself hidden away so no one can find me. 

I've made all the wrong decisions and yet, here I am.  And I'm still alive.

Poems from Jane's Diary:

12/2/09
A heart of glass within a wall of stone;
I offer the sledge hammer freely.
Deconstruction.
Each stone is regrown from my tears.






2/14/11
So many thoughts, so little time.
But are they worth writing down?
By the time I pick up a pen, they are barely a memory.
Feelings are fleeting, changing like ocean waves.
To write them is futile.
Ideas are nice, but are any of mine original?
I don't believe in beliefs today.

2/5/11
A hopeless romantic,
I fall in love each day.
Alas, I am left heartsick...
and drink the pain away.

Happy F-ing New Year.

I am not making "resolutions".  I am going to keep it real.  This is how it feels on the cusp of 2011:

I feel like a giant black hole opened up and swallowed my apartment, I have an internet cable to connect with the world at large, a cell phone for emergencies, but...THAT'S IT.

I am wondering how to respond to people who keep saying, "You don't have a TV?" and looking at me like I'm from the moon. Worse yet is the ones who don't understand my lack of microwave oven.  I interpret many of their looks as pity; if they had a spare they would totally give me one.  But for the most part (and I'm going to say 95 % of the time) I don't need such things. I have pans that I heat up leftovers in.  I have a toaster oven and a proper oven to melt things if I need to.  I have a sketchy coffee maker that works whenever the Hell it feels like it.

When everyone looks at me like I'm crazy for NOT having the microwave and the TV... I think about the following:
-I'd still have to wash microwaveable dishes
-a lot of things taste like dog poo after microwaving (at least texture wise)
-TV rots your brain.  The adverts alone are reason to avoid it.
-not only that, but most of what i see on TV is unintelligible crap.

Now, there are some good reasons for having these appliances.  I do not think people should go out and set fire to their units.

But TV noise shouldn't replace thoughts and dialog in a household.  And Microwaves shouldn't replace the home cooked meal.

They make things more convenient, yes.  They can help. But, in my opinion, should not replace the standards of life: Sunday dinner cooked from scratch by Grandma or Mother's baked goods. Experiencing life for one's self or reading the words of someone whom you admire.

Obviously, not everyone is an adventurer. Not everyone is a great cook.  But I would bet money that everyone has some memory of a person connected with a food or experience that changed their life.

Food is life, people.  Live it well.  And TV....is not life.  It just reflects a picture back of what someone else wants you to see about life.  Ignore that.  Be true.  Be real.

Interconnectivity

If I visualize my reality as an infinite sphere made up of points representing individual people at specific times and specific places… so that I have a million tiny dots along the web representing my path, you have a million tiny dots along with everyone else that has ever existed in space and time.

When these dotted lines come together, relationships are formed and meaning is created. I enjoy looking back on these lines and trying to understand how people got to where they are now and how certain relationships were formed and sometimes later, broken.

What is most interesting though, is when I find two seemingly unrelated lines come together with mine at a point in time. I don’t necessarily believe in Fate, but I see that there are multiple avenues in which we may end up at the same point of experience at a particular time. It is easy to assign meaning to this because it does seem significant. I wouldn’t have been able to understand one experience nearly as deeply if I hadn’t already experienced another related one first.

I’ve noticed this happen in particular with music and art. I will be introduced to a band or artist and less than a week later I find myself coming into contact with that same band or artist in a different context. I find the timing of these connections inspiring and therefore, meaningful to my life.

Punches Thrown while Police Look On, An Insect Receives Last Rites

9/5/07

Punches Thrown while Police Look On, An Insect Receives Next-to-Last Rites

I raised my glass of Merlot and sipped to the beginning of my second movie for the night: A Streetcar Named Desire. There was a flowery smudge on the wine glass just next to the first capital letter of the winery where I bought it. I never noticed that before. Was there a previously unnoticed flower appliqué on the glass? No, my finger found the mangled body of a small insect. It was probably a moth that I had been swatting unsuccessfully all evening.

I moved the tiny pathetic body (and a leg found separately) to a napkin and was trying to answer philosophical questions about the life and death of bugs when I heard loud male voices and car door slamming outside.

The street I live on, Alvarado, is a dangerous street after dark. I shut off the living room lights and peered outside from behind the curtain. Two young men were shouting near a car pulled into the right lane. One man emerged from the sidewalk and punched the driver of the car twice before the driver noticed two police officers on motorcycles crossing the street at Montana, heading west. The driver raised his hand, possibly to let the officers know he was alright, but then again, he may have been hoping they would turn left onto Alvarado and intervene.

The officers went straight and when I looked back to the car in question, it was leaving the scene. The identity and whereabouts of the assailant are unknown.

I was overwhelmed by the timing of these events. After the first punch, I wondered if I would have to call 9-1-1. In the end, everyone seemed to have survived with little more than bruises, except for the moth who I’m hoping is on its way to a partial recovery sans one leg.

What to Do (Old essay from 2005)

8/30/05

I can’t seem to figure out what I want or what I want to do. I want to do everything, but it doesn’t seem like I’m qualified to do anything.

I feel as if I don’t do anything important. My field is interesting, my job is boring most of the time, but neither of them is really significant in the world. If archaeologists disappeared forever, I think people would be fine. I want to do something that has more depth to it, something more real and tangible that archaeology.

Sometimes I freak myself out because I think of all the things in the world that I’d like to do, but feel as if I won’t be able to; I’ll never be that world famous archaeologist. Then I realize that it’s ok not to be the world famous archaeologist. It’s ok to be a cashier at the local grocery store. But you see, I have a college degree and it doesn’t feel ok to be just a cashier in the same town I grew up in. I’m suppose to have some edge over the competition now so I can get that wonderful job in a far away land where I’ll learn all about the long lost culture of the whoserwhatsit and publish several books on the subject.

I want to be a writer, a gardener, a good cook, and a spiritual and well-balanced individual. But how in the Hell can a person be who she wants to if she has to spend all her spare time looking for a better job when there simply aren’t any available? What standards should I set for myself? I wonder if I should give up on these dreams and come to terms with the reality that I’m going to have to work at a shitty job for a long time and not get to do most of the things I want. What goals do I need to set in motion in order to be this person I can see in my mind’s eye?

I have been searching for guidance for many years and have only found it in small pockets: a teacher here, a friend there – and then it goes away and I begin the search again. Always searching and always waiting, that is the story of my life.

An Obsession Confession (older post)

I finished reading Twilight in about five days. I had trouble putting it down, but I had to work at least three of those days, I took a short overnight camping trip, and had a birthday dinner with my family in that time as well. I was engrossed the way a person might normally be in a new fun story, but it wasn’t until I finished the book and read the teaser chapter into the sequel that I started to obsess.

I had planned on alternating between fiction and non-fiction as I worked my way through my home library. That evening as I got ready for bed, I perused my bookshelves in search of my next fix – I wanted to stick to my plan and start “Why Darwin Matters” or maybe “The Pilgrim and the Great Bird Continent” because my last science book was really enjoyable – but my fingers led me to more fiction: “The Vampire Lestat” (I’d never read that book in The Vampire Chronicles) or maybe “The Mists of Avalon” (I loved the King Arthur legends). But, I couldn’t quite shake this feeling that I was heading downhill and fiction was my navigator. Better play it safe: I chose an entertaining non-fiction book about extremist conspiracy theorists.

The next day, I was looking forward to having the house to myself for several hours after work. I formulated a plan to go to the library and check out the second book in the Twilight saga AND the Twilight movie; I was going to pursue my obsession properly. The library was an utter disappointment: five copies of the book and one copy of the DVD – all checked out. I walked the two blocks to the video rental place with my fingers crossed.

All was not lost! On the way home from the video store I came up with the following: “I just want the freedom to engage safely and responsibly in my obsessions”.

Another story is that I’m addicted to fiction and that’s why it was so hard for me to leave Twilight. I love delving so deep into a fictional world that the boundaries between real and fantasy starts to blur. When this happened in the past, I was able to go with it and let it take me away to wherever it wanted, eventually returning home safely. Now, my “responsible” adult life doesn’t seem to allow me full indulgence of my obsessions and that makes me obsess even more. It’s dangerous.

If this story is the more accurate one, it may be a sign of lunacy and the question facing me then is: Do I want to be cured? I don’t think so. I have figured out a possible way to “treat” this affliction however. The answer is so obvious that I barely figured it out. I must write fiction myself in order to live safely in both worlds. It’s the only way.

4/26/09

GO LAKERS!

This week the Lakers are playing the Celtics for the NBA Playoffs.  I'm not really a basketball fan, so that last sentence may be all wrong, but you understand what I'm meaning...  I guess if I have to pick a team, I'm Lakers all the way... I really enjoy watching basketball, compared to other sports (although I did catch some of the World Cup on Saturday afternoon and I could probably follow that if I were inclined).

It didn't hit me until today that it has been almost a year since I moved out of Echo Park and ended my last long term relationship... The last good memory I have of that time is catching the Playoffs last year on a TV at a Pub.  The energy of the crowd was infectious and I ended up following the rest of the games until the Laker's won and I watched my fellow Los Angelenos riot (why the hell did you do that?) all over downtown.

So much time has passed, yet I don't feel like I have moved forward very far in my life.  I guess I'm still healing, still getting a handle on reality as a single person.  Exploring the ideas I used to think were "me" before I was subsumed by an "us".  I am afraid that I have lost my edge.

Witnessing the hoopla over the Lakers (at work, in  my neighborhood and even in my own household) makes me wonder why people get so riled up over a sports team.  I think people have a deep need for tribal affiliations and sports satisfies that.  It allows us to be a part of the competitive "us vs. them" dynamic in a relatively safe way.  If we were still living in caves, we would be hunting animals and defending ourselves from other caves with much the same psychological effect.