Love Song Sunday: Only You

I have what I think is quite the treat for you this Sunday: Ayo. I discovered Ayo in a club in Paris in 2007 and fell instantly in love with her melodic voice. And this woman represents all that I love about the transient nature of the modern world. She was born in Germany to a Nigerian father and Gypsy mother and I think all those cultural influences are apparent in her ecclectic music. I highly suggest checking out everything she's recorded. She has many other enchanting songs, but none so joyously in love as this one.

hot pink nails

So I was sitting here, having a lovely Saturday all to my little lonesome, thinking to myself. Self, I thought, you should really write a new blog post. And so here we are.

I had a tough day at work yesterday so I went home last night and anesthetized with the one, the only, the original, the U.K., The Office. Which is now on Hulu. Thank you, Hulu gods! Seriously, peeps, if you don't find Ricky Gervais just completely brilliant, then you should get some professional help. And I don't mean therapy. I mean a lobotomy. Plus, I like to work the word "lobotomy" into a sentence whenever possible.

And I painted my nails hot pink. Because hot pink nails make everything better. Trust.

And today I was supposed to go whale watching with a bunch of other folks. It's a long story, which I'll probably tell, but this trip keeps getting canceled due to weather. And I was taking my dad who, for the last 22 years, has really wanted to see a whale. See, when I was in 2nd grade, my dad chaperoned a whale watching trip for my class. There were two buses (one with the kids and our teacher and one with the parents) and the parent bus broke down and my dad never got to see a whale. Sad right? But I couldn't make it up to him because the trip was again canceled. High winds, bad weather, and, OH YEAH, a tsunami advisory for Southern California.

Now, a tsunami never hit SoCal or Hawaii (thank pete), but the world is totally shaking apart! Haiti is still in shambles and Chile is rocked by an 8.8 earthquake. Eight point fucking eight. Do you know how big that is? The hardest I think I ever experienced was a 6.4 in Big Bear in 1992. And that bitch was scary as hell.

I'm sure that there will be ways for everyone to send aid to Chile soon. And if you donate to the ARC, don't earmark you donation. Let them decide how to use the funds.

And now I don't think I can leave you on such a low note. So, and not to undermine the gravity of the quake in Chile, here's something to laugh at. Because 30 Rock makes everything better. Even major disasters.

I think I can safely say that Kenneth is the best part of 30 Rock. And Dot Com. And Jackie Jormp-Jomp.

Speaking of ridiculous people, it's been raining and hailing like a mo fo all day (how a mo fo hails, I really can't say), which is kind of exciting. Especially since I don't have to be anywhere. So I've been enjoying my day in the company of myself. But I ran out of Cadbury Eggs (GASP!) so I, of course, had to go out and buy more at one of my favorite places: Target (cue: heavenly music). After I procured my chocolaty, creamy eggs of perfection, I tried to exit The Target (side note: isn't the English language sadly lacking in definite articles?), but my way was blocked by a horde of apparently terrified people, huddled together with their bags and carts and purchases just inside the door, frozen in fear of the rain. Of the rain. Of. the. rain.

They were scared of the rain! And it wasn't even hailing. Like, I could see avoiding hail, because that shit can hurt. But, it's just water. WA-TER. So of course I muscled my way through and was at my car in no time and on my way home. And I didn't even really get very wet. What is the big deal, Southern California? The clouds open up and you go into DEFCON 5? This is not on par with, say, nuclear holocaust or, oh I don't know, a major earthquake!

All I ask for is a little perspective. And hot pink nail polish.

Photo of the Day: Terra Cotta

I took this shot today whilst sitting on a gloriously sunny outdoor patio eating lunch with my friend Claudia. There was just the slightest of perfectly cool breezes and the sun felt sublime. I felt just like this terra cotta pot, absorbing the rays happily, warming on the surface, cool underneath. Perfection.

Speeding Life Train

Hello, Internet. How are you? I'm good. Can't complain. Or, I can, I guess. I can always find SOMEthing to complain about. Twist my arm to moan and whine. And I'll take some cheese with that.

Tonight I'm feeling...restless. I normally hole up in the evening with a book or my computer and cocoon while I try to relax so I can actually sleep. See, I have trouble sleeping because I can never get my brain to turn off. So I try to start the sedation process earlier in the evening than most. Once my brain is going, there is no turning it off.

And tonight? Ce soir? It's a goin'. Ca va! Ca to the mother fucking va. And it's only like 8:30, but the wheels are on overdrive, dude. I feel restless, but forced to sit still. I feel like I'm ready to take so much for my life, but it's all on hold. I'm feeling like time is tick tick ticking away at record speeds but I'm frozen in the midst of it all, watching it pass me by.

okay, so I realize this photo is of a young male of color and in no way resembles my pasty female ass. deal with it.

And I'm just standing here, living my life, doing everything right, being polite. While the good stuff, the scary stuff, the stuff that puts hair on your chest, the stuff that makes life worth it is zipping away and I can't quite grasp it. And jumping on that speeding life train is goddamn scary, yo. Making that leap is treacherous. A girl could get hurt.

But, dammit, I'm done being polite. I'm done being safe. I want to tell this polite girl to fuck off! I don't want to stand by quietly anymore. What the hell are we all waiting for anyway? I want to jump feet first on the speeding life train and take those things I want. What am I protecting anyhow?

You know what I think? I think that the only things worth living for are the riskiest. Risk is inherent to life and the bigger the risk (I am not going to say, the bigger the reward), the better you become. I am ready to jump. I am ready to risk. I am ready to be scared fucking out of my mind with life.

I think we only tread this planet for so long and the good things need to be pursued. I'm not going to sit on my ass any longer just hoping for the best, hoping a big wad of exciting life falls into my lap. I just don't think it works that way.

And I live a decent life. I do. I have a job I'm good at. I'm not a hooker. I don't have any major health issues. I've never had syphilis. I see my therapist and I pay my taxes. I've never committed larceny (not really sure what larceny is). I feed my cats (every day) and I tend my garden (mostly). I read dozens of books. I'm supportive of my friends. I've never been a cannibal. I've never cheated. I only hate a few people, and even then, it's just a really strong dislike. I always use my turn signal. I've never maimed or beheaded. I'd say I'm a good person.

But is that enough? Not right now, it's not. I want a rich life, not rich with money (though I wouldn't be turning that down), but rich with experience, with joy, with love, with learning and growth. I want that. I WANT THAT!

And even after all that ranting about jumping on a speeding life train, I can be patient. Yes, I can. Stop looking at me like that. I can, dammit!

But maybe it's really about making the first leap. Make the jump. Get on the train. Then I can find a nice seat near a window. And if the train takes a while to reach its destination, that's okay. At least I know I'm on the train. And the train is going the direction I want.

I haven't jumped yet. But I have my ticket and I'm standing on the platform. Who's coming with me?

Day Off

Do you know what today is, Internet? Do ya? Huh huh? Do ya? Huh?

It's my day off, that's what. I haven't had a day off in what? 8 days? 15? 237? 'Cuz that's what it feels like, yo. I was so freaking exhausted yesterday (Monday!), trudging through my super Friday. Or is it like Friday times 4? Whatever. Longest Friday ever if you ask me. But I made it through, by golly, by Jove. I did.

And do you know what I'm doing with my day today? That's right. A big, fat, fucking nothing. I slept in. I ate a little Joe's O's, drank some tea. Wait, I just made tea. I didn't drink it. Now my tea is cold. Dammit. I heated up my tea. I watched a little Hulu. I don't think I'll get dressed today and I think I'll try to be only a little productive. I need to do laundry if I don't want to wear bikini bottoms as underwear. And I want to apply for a few jobs online.

Ooh segue!

So on Friday last week, Boss asked me how the job hunt was going in Oregon. I said not great; not much out there. And he gave me some advice and sent me on my way. So yesterday, he walks into my office and hands me a stack of papers and says, "but I'm not trying to get rid of you." And what do you think he gave me? Job leads, that's what. He'd found jobs for me online. Whatnow? Seriously? Really? Who?

So I'm applying for those jobs today.

Also there's a story I really, really want to tell you, Internet, but I know there is film footage to enhance this story on a friend's camera and I kind of want to wait until I can share my fabulous humiliation in all its technicolor glory. Needless to say it involved Morgan's birthday party, dueling (and raunchy) piano players, Sir Mixalot, and My Ass.

Epic.

And just so you don't hate me for my day off (which I EARNED) while you are most likely slaving away at your job, here's a little Oren Lavie to enjoy. It's worth saying that there isn't a song by him that I don't like (Oren Lavie is my secret lover. don't tell him), but this song is pure fabulosity. And the video is pretty rockin' too.

Love Song Sunday: And Then You

This Sunday's song was hard to choose. I knew I wanted to share something from Greg Laswell, but he has so many fantastical songs to choose from. I discovered Greg Laswell maybe 3 years ago when I saw him play at Hotel Cafe in Hollywood and I was in love from then on. His music gets under my skin and stays for days. This song is especially beautiful but the video is especially cheesetastic. If you can't handle the cheese (and I really can't), close your eyes and listen to his haunting voice and the delicious words.

runnin' just as fast as we can

Sometimes I love running. Sometimes I hate it. Lately I've been hating it, mostly because I think I'm developing asthma or something like it. I don't know if I've just been sick for a month or if it's from the So Cal fires last year, but when I run lately, my lungs feel like they're wadding up into a tiny ball and I can't pull in enough air.

It's infuriating, especially for someone like me who has trouble slowing down. I just keep running through it. This is why I tore both my abductors dancing when I was 20. Because it was one, then the other, first just pulls, then full-on tears. Because I kept dancing.

So it should be no surprise that I went running tonight despite the lung pain. But I've been carrying around this wad of frustration and angst (angst is like baby anger) and I wanted to let it out in a healthy way (well, healthy emotionally). And I normally start at a fast walk to warm up. But tonight, no, tonight I ran straight off. And it felt damn good. And there was a good while where I didn't feel my lungs or my heart or my legs and I was just in the moment, running. And I forgot about the angst and the frustration and the stress.

But I eventually had to stop, mostly because I literally couldn't get a breath. And then it all came flooding back in. And I didn't feel better. Now I just felt kind of worse, more stressed, more angsty. Like that initial run was a glorious band aid that wouldn't re stick.

So I pushed through, walking, running, walking, running. But I still felt pretty emotional. And now I felt wheezy too. But I pushed through. I did. And I did the last block at a sprint in some effort to regain that feeling of abandon I'd had when I begun. But of course I didn't.

And now I could seriously pass out in all my gloriously funky sweat and tears.

I have a big weekend ahead of me, working for the next three days on three different events. I really need to find a way to get my head clear first. Maybe instead of exercise, I should turn to a hot bath, a bottle of wine (ok, maybe just a glass. I do have to work tomorrow), and angry chick music.