Ho Ho Ho

Back at work today. Are there 4 words more depressing? I don't think so. If there are, I defy you to find them.

Nonetheless, I felt ready to be back at work today. It had been a long and relaxing weekend and I was ready to go back to the norm. Well, kind of ready. I had gotten so used to life without an alarm clock that when my alarm went off this morning, I literally had no idea what was going on. I had one of those disoriented moments like you have in a hotel. For a good 2 minutes, I was running through questions. Who am I? Where am I? What time is it? Why do I have to be up at this time? Oh wait, if I snooze, what time do I actually have to be up? All those very important existential questions. Ah. Life is complicated.

And today was somewhat of a blur anyway. Catching up on a thousand emails and phone calls and meetings and to-dos. This week should be pretty crazy too, on into the holiday season. Ugg. I've said this before and I truly apologize to those who love Christmas, but I just hate the holidays. I envy you people. Maybe it's a religious holiday for you with tons of significance. Or maybe you get to spend time with your loving family. Or maybe you enjoy buying gifts for everyone in your life. Well, for me, I don't really get any of that. I'll explain.

Warning: Debbie Downer! Those who want to maintain a childlike innocence please redirect your browser here.

Okay, can I continue? Only cynical grownups in the room? Awesome.

I am not religious. I was raised in a Christian religion, but (and without delineating my entire theory on ideologies) I've made my own way. And I must also assert that Yule was a pagan holiday hijacked by the Christians to convert them. Even if you're Christian, you have to know that Jesus couldn't have been born in December. There. So, I do love the winter season. I love snow and snowmen and snowflakes and the cold sparkliness of December (or what should be December. I wouldn't know in Southern fucking California). But I don't go to a church. I don't put up nativities. That's not me.

And my family circle is small. I'm close with my dad but we've agreed not to spend Christmas together. Have I mentioned I'm estranged from my mother? I am. And I won't make my dad pick between us, so he spends a good chunk of time supporting me and my mom gets him for the holidays. And I'm okay with that. My childhood Christmases were never memorable in a good way anyhow. It's always been stressful for me, as long as I can remember. So a family-free Christmas is A-okay.

In fact, I'll probably just go see a movie with Morgan this year. Just how I like it. Last year, I treated myself to a Harry Potter marathon. It was fantastic. In fact, the best Christmas I ever had was in London. I had been backpacking with my cousin and my bestest friend in the world Lynnette through the UK and we ended up in London for Christmas day. The three of us exchanged cheesy souvenirs and Lynnette and I (Linds was sicky, poor thing) tromped around the city in the freezing cold. And the tube was shut down so we literally walked all over London. It was a blast! And we saw things we never would have seen on a bustly day taking the tourist routes. And we discovered the best Turkish food you will ever have in your whole damn life. Oh my god it was AH MAY ZING! Best Christmas ever.

So that brings me to...what...oh yeah. Shopping. First off, have I mentioned I used to work retail? For years I worked retail. And let me tell you, Christmas time in the malls is like guerrilla warfare. Perfectly sane people lose their minds. All of a sudden, all that stands between them and their perfect Christmas is a book or a bra or a sweater. And they just don't understand that you don't have a printing press in the back of the store. Or a sewing machine. Or a magic fucking wand. Or maybe the nice lady in front of them took the last one of whatever it is...they will turn into goddamn Galahad and fight to the death for the damn item. Or maybe they're just cranky from all the shopping, all the spending. That credit card starts to get heavy after a while so no matter how fast the lines go, how many registers are open, how nice you are, you (innocent, underpaid retail worker) are the devil incarnate and must be put in your place. You wouldn't believe the hideously mean things I've heard people say to employees during this festive holiday season. Spirit of the season my ass.

So you can see why I'm a little wound up about Christmas shopping. If I don't absolutely have to, I do not enter the stores, malls, or the like from Black Friday until New Years. I shop online, I make shit, whatever I have to do to survive by not going near the mania that is shopping around the holidays.

Plus I'm buhroke. Broke. Po. So fucking poor. And I want to be generous. I do. But oh my god do the charities come out of the closet (he he) in December! I am a good person. I build houses in New Orleans. I give to HRC and Courage Campaign. I've worked at emergency shelters and tutored kids. But that kind of giving should be spread out, all year. When it all piles on at once, it really pushes my finances out the window. And at my work (love you coworkers!) we have a million events in which we're expected to bring toys and canned goods, etc. And it's a very good thing. But I really can't afford it all. This year, I have to choose which things I can go to depending on what I can afford to give. I even made artsy Christmas gifts this year (mentioned that already) so it's not as if I'm spending on me and can afford it. Nope, I'm on a budget all the way around.

Side story: I used to work in a book store and we used to ask people to donate cheap books (like maybe $3 or $4 books) to charity. If someone really seemed like they couldn't afford it, or afford it right then, I got that. But people would spend 500 plus dollars and throw it all on an AMEX and they can't afford three more dollars for a needy kid? That I don't get. Same with me. I give where I can. And I when I can give more, I will. But I just can't right now.

Okay Debbie Downer is finished. But you can see why this season is so stressful right, Internet? I'd really like to keep an open mind, though. If one of those categories changed its mind and jumped in my lap, I'd really try to learn to love the Christmas season, I really would. Ho ho ho and all that. I can't even seem to get the ho part down. Looks like I have a long way to go.

Photo of the Day: Building Hope

I took this last spring while building this very house in New Orleans with Habitat for Humanity in the Upper Ninth Ward. It was an incredibly life-changing experience and I urge everyone to take a week of their lives and go and build. There is so much left to be done there and the only way it will happen is through volunteers. So, go. Listen to the local's stories. And see if you can't live with their burden of gratitude. I dare ya.

Also, it's tons of fun! I'll be going back next spring and I totally can't wait, not just to use power tools, climb rafters, and nail in boards, but to eat Po Boys and Beignets and Muffalettas and crawfish pie and King Cake. Good god it's good you work so much because otherwise I'd come home HUGE!

Crazy Lady Mastheads

I've had some responses about several of my mastheads and I have to say, I can't take credit for the artwork or photography most of the time.

Often I find free graphics online and use those or, in the case of my latest masthead, I get the photo or graphic from a designer. I find a lot of work I'm in love with on Supermarket and the photo of the nekked girl is by Matt Schwartz. And I've found a lot of designs that I just love and have done nothing with yet.

Then I just write on them. It's all very diabolical.

it's called "Black Friday" for a reason

Ah the day after Thanksgiving. I am so stoked to have 3 more days off, I...I...well, I don't know what I could do, but you can bet it's exciting! Damn skippy.

Yesterday was nice. It was great to see my cousin and hey boyfriend John and my aunts.And my sweet potatoes turned out great. My pumpkin mousse pie was pretty delish, but I think I can improve on it. I'm thinking it would be better not frozen, with more of a puddingy texture. And less crust. I may just do a super thin graham cracker crust on the bottom and a dusting of crumbs on the top. YUM! Ooooh, maybe I'll make it for New Years (More on my New Years plans as we get closer to)! I also took some more Holgas which I'm taking in to develop sometime this weekend. We'll see how they turn out. Here's a digital of my fam:

Poor John, though. I always feel a little bad for him, being the only guy with all these women around. He holds his own though, maybe even likes the attention a little. He was in classic Thanksgiving eating form, even changed his shirt and pants in order to go in for lots of dessert. But the poor guy had to leave in the evening for work, which meant that he had to put on work clothes. The following is the ensuing challenge for a very full boy:

I had a rough night last night, though, Who knows why, but I had the most bizarre dreams. So today I'm a little crankers, a little tired. Even so, I have forced myself to do a little winter decorating. I wasn't going to. I've been so apathetic about the season. It doesn't even feel like winter. But I made myself do it. And I'm glad I did. My place looks pretty damn cute.

And for all your crazy Black Friday shoppers, what is wrong with you? I worked retail for like 7 years. 7 years I can never get back. That is 7 years of my adult life that I spent battling with crazy people who have such shopping fever they resemble footage of meth attics being electrocuted. I assume. I've never seen footage like that. Now that I don't have to, I wouldn't leave the house on Black Friday if you paid me. You'd have to hold one of my family member's hostage, threaten to shoot him or her to get me to go near a store today. And even then, it would depend on which family member. This is what you're supposed to do the day after Thanksgiving: sleep your fat ass in! Wear pajamas until you decide to venture outside and you don't want to frighten the neighbors. Eat reheated leftovers, and bee tee doubleyou, pie is a perfectly acceptable breakfast. Now THAT is a proper Black Friday.

Anyway, because I'm so po (that's so poor, I can't afford the extra "o" or "r"), I'm giving artsy fartsy presents this year. Maybe a tad narcissistic, but hell, if those people I love the most don't love my art, maybe they shouldn't get presents. Hah!

the dreaded obligatory Thanksgiving post

Here I am, the night before Thanksgiving, making sweet mashed potatoes and getting my ass ready for the holiday I have always pretty much hated more than any others. And I will say that it's not my most detested any more. In adulthood, I hate Christmas more than any other holiday (but that's a story for the Christmas post). So Thanksgiving has moved up a notch.

Why do I hate Thanksgiving? In the first place, it's just not my holiday. I don't love Thanksgiving food, the turkey, the yams, the cranberry sauce, the stuffing. Ew. Ew. Ew. I like mashed potatoes though and somehow over the years macaroni and cheese has entered our Thanksgiving menu (probably because I love it), so I usually eat those two things. If there happens to be a ham, I'll eat a piece of that too.

But in general, the whole FEAST thing, not my style.

And then there's the idea of family, everyone piled into one house for an entire day or gathered around a table. For most families, I'm finding, that's a nice image. For my family, well, that's just not realistic. Any situation in which my entire family (or even just me, my mom, and my dad) are stuck in one place with no way out equals utter disaster. Most of my childhood memories of Thanksgiving end in tears, usually because my mother ended up screaming at my dad or me or both.

So the past couple years, my cousin Lindsey and I have constructed a nice, mellow, intimate Thanksgiving. It's just she and I, her boyfriend John, her mom, and this year another aunt is coming, an aunt who is techinally not "family" since our uncle cheated on her and divorced her for a golddigger, but we love this aunt more. It's nice. It's just those we love and can stand. It's a safe space. Plus we kind of do our own menu. Lindsey makes a Tofurkey which I avoid like the plague because I'm allergic. John makes a heavenly macaroni and cheese. Last year, I made Tirimisu and this year I made a pumpkin mousse pie. Yum! And I already mentioned the sweet mashed potatoes. We do our own thing and it works and it's very low-stress. Just the way we like it.

And despite that, I'm still anxious. Not for any good reason, but I know it's residual energy of horrible Thanksgivings past. This holiday just doesn't agree with me.

And that brings me to the symbology, the history of this holiday which I just don't agree with celebrating.

This pretty much sums up how I feel about Thanksgiving:

Yes, why don't we celebrate a holiday that commemorates the conquering of a foreign land, the decimation and rape of its native peoples, their way of life, and the gift of small pox. Yes. Let's gather around, stuff ourselves until we're huge and recall what we're grateful for instead of mourning the atrocities we enacted in order to celebrate this momentous occasion. That's really something to celebrate.

Okay, I'm done pissing and moaning. I hope you all have fantastic Thanksgivings. May your families all be wonderful. May you all get tremendously fat. And when you're recounting what you're thankful for, try to remember an entire culture of people still struggling to realign itself in the world because of the actions of our "forefathers."

Photo of the Day: Aesthetics

Okay, so I was at LACMA again this weekend. And I took some shots on my brand 'pankin' new Holga which I'll post at a later date when I use up my film and get it developed. Wow. Forgot what it was like to use real film! How exciting!! Anyhow, these are some of my favorite digitals from the day:

I took a lot of photos of art this weekend, of installations and architecture and sculptures, but this shot, which was almost an accident, is one of my faves. I set my digital camera down to get my Holga out and looking up saw this shot, all golden from the late afternoon sun. I love how this shot is so imperfect, the background out of focus and the sun flare on the concrete. It's captivating what you see when you're not really looking.

This one is another fave. It's not art, just railing. But I love the twistiness of the bars, the different textures, some dull, some shiny and reflective.

And lastly for today is this guy. I took several angles of this sculpture, a copy of Rodin (side note: did you know that no original Rodin works exist? it's true.). I love this one because of the silhouette against the blue sky. The sun is directly behind him so he appears totally black. I also like the palm trees in the scene. It's like he's shooting something in that tree. It's probably a homeless person.

Look for more shots later on flickr.

in hot water

When did I post last? No clue. But I believe I was still sicky sick sick. I battled this Evil Cold for about a week, tried to work on Tuesday until I threw in the towel and succumbed to my illness. But Tuesday is about when my water heater decided to go on strike.

Let's see. I think it was Tuesday night. After the shortest shower ever (not counting my 60 second power showers at Camp Hope in New Orleans), I checked my water heater to see why I ran out of hot water. And just to get the full effect, picture me: hacking up a lung and kind of dizzy. Pissed and breathless from the shortest shower ever. And wearing a mish mash of post-shower clothing: flip flops, sweat pants, a towel around top and a robe that I couldn't find the tie to (which is why I still had the towel.) Oh, and wet hair.

So the pilot was out. I had lit the pilot on a water heater before, but that was like 8 years ago maybe and I didn't totally remember. So after squeezing myself into the inexplicably small space they wedge water heaters into, I managed to read the directions and get it re-lit. But then I didn't think anything of it.

Wednesday I stayed home from work and when I went to take a nice bath for my poor sicky sick sick self, guess what? No hot water. Yup. As you can imagine, I was overjoyed by this point. Over the goddamn moon with happiness. Checked the water heater. Pilot out. Again. I try lighting it again but it won't stay lit. So, I call my pops for advice and he says try some different things. Long story short, I get it lit, but it only stays on for an hour or so before going out again. I call my land lord, but they can't send someone out until Thursday evening or Friday and I'm like, I just want some hot water!

But I had gotten it on long enough to heat water for a short shower, so I showered it up and went to work on Thursday. Side note: by this point, I had cabin fever so freakin' bad that I was deadset on being sick no longer. I just refused. No more sicky sick sick. Nuh uh. Nope. Done. Plus, there is only so much Internet TV you can watch before you run out. The last straw was watching an exorcism on some ghost watchers show. I just couldn't handle the idiocy any longer! So off to work I went.

By Thursday after work, I couldn't even get it to light any more so my dad came over and banged around at it and replaced the thermal cupola something somethingorother. Whatever. It worked! It was on and the water was making heating sounds. Happy days are here again. I may have even sung.

But oh wait, a couple of hours later and it was out again. Mother fucker. I did have enough hot water for a short shower on Friday morning and I went to work. I called the landlord again at 9 am (pee ess, who opens at 9? What year is this?) and they promised to send someone out to fix it. They must have sensed I was at the end of my hot water rope, because when I got home on Friday...drum roll please....I had a brand new water heater!

Now, the dude left a huge mess in my house and my cats were seriously traumatized by the STRANGER, STRANGER IN OUR HOUSE! The world is ending and children are dying in the Sudan, but there was a STRANGER. IN. OUR. HOUSE! (poor Hobbes was hiding under the covers until this morning. poor fat cat doesn't realize people can still tell he's there.). And this morning I have no water pressure in my kitchen sink. But who cares? I have hot water! I can wash dishes in the bathtub if I have to. It's all gravy, baby, because I have hot water. Hot water! Hot. Water. Aren't we all excited?

I really wanted to write a blog today about the new breast cancer screening recommendations. And I know I still owe you the geisha story. But this was much too good of a tale to pass up. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to take a very long, very hot shower.