Shame Shame Shame.
This was going to be a Facebook status update but it got too grammatically vague with the third person (ARGH), and we all know I'm too wordy for Facebook status updates to truly satisfy me. I am at Filter coffee shop in North Park right now. I just had to stop searching for help with my Twilight Halloween costume, because I was too self-conscious of what all the other* emo-punk rock mac users were thinking of me as all the Twilight fansites loaded on my screen.
That all said, this is going to be my worst/best Halloween costume since the year I was Ann Coulter. The best part will be watching the recognition on all of the closeted Twilight-readers' faces at the party.
____
* = other as in, not including me. I am not remotely emo or punk rock, although I do love Neutral Milk Hotel. And I have a Mac. But really? I am only here without my toddler because he is at babysitting co-op at Nelwyn's house. I am *so* hard core. Oh, and see also: Twilight fansites loading on my mac.
10.30.2008
10.26.2008
Faith and Prop 8.
Faith and Prop 8.
Yesterday, I said, "There is nothing Christian about this ballot measure," and wanted to clarify. I mean, for those Californians (and, you know, all humans) who happen to believe in Jesus, this debate is most definitely a religious issue. But the actual proposition, promoting discrimination and intolerance? Not a chance.
In many churches around the country today, the gospel reading included (I believe) the section in the 22nd chapter of the book of Matthew that reads: When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
Jesus would not stand for such intolerance, inequality, and hate. He would not stand for creating new legislature that promoted discrimination. In fact, Jesus healed the centurion soldier's "pais," a boy slave used by the centurion soldier for sexual purposes (in both Matthew and Luke). He did so without warning, without condition, without pause, and even said that he was amazed by the devotion from the slave. And I say with great certainty that any occurrence of anti-homosexual text in the New Testament (and possibly even the Old Testament but I haven't really studied that one) is entirely due to the political bias of translators for centuries. (If you are curious about this translation issue, here is an excellent source from the World Policy Institute.)
But all that aside, and even Separation of Church and State aside, it comes down to the fact that Jesus is telling us to love our neighbors as ourselves, above and beyond any other law that tells us otherwise. No person should add discrimination to the state constitution, certainly not someone who follows Jesus. I guess when I say "there is nothing Christian about this ballot measure," what I really mean is that this proposition challenges our common life, our common toil, our shared existence in our communities. It threatens our equality and humanity. It attacks respect and tolerance. That right there is enough to oppose this measure. But it also happens to go against exactly what Jesus said. And not just some random, out of context parable or musing, but exactly what Jesus said was the most important thing he would ever say.
I'll be back with the rest of the local and state ballot measures soon.
Yesterday, I said, "There is nothing Christian about this ballot measure," and wanted to clarify. I mean, for those Californians (and, you know, all humans) who happen to believe in Jesus, this debate is most definitely a religious issue. But the actual proposition, promoting discrimination and intolerance? Not a chance.
In many churches around the country today, the gospel reading included (I believe) the section in the 22nd chapter of the book of Matthew that reads: When the Pharisees heard that he had silenced the Sadducees, they gathered together, and one of them, a lawyer, asked him a question to test him. “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” He said to him, “’You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
Jesus would not stand for such intolerance, inequality, and hate. He would not stand for creating new legislature that promoted discrimination. In fact, Jesus healed the centurion soldier's "pais," a boy slave used by the centurion soldier for sexual purposes (in both Matthew and Luke). He did so without warning, without condition, without pause, and even said that he was amazed by the devotion from the slave. And I say with great certainty that any occurrence of anti-homosexual text in the New Testament (and possibly even the Old Testament but I haven't really studied that one) is entirely due to the political bias of translators for centuries. (If you are curious about this translation issue, here is an excellent source from the World Policy Institute.)
But all that aside, and even Separation of Church and State aside, it comes down to the fact that Jesus is telling us to love our neighbors as ourselves, above and beyond any other law that tells us otherwise. No person should add discrimination to the state constitution, certainly not someone who follows Jesus. I guess when I say "there is nothing Christian about this ballot measure," what I really mean is that this proposition challenges our common life, our common toil, our shared existence in our communities. It threatens our equality and humanity. It attacks respect and tolerance. That right there is enough to oppose this measure. But it also happens to go against exactly what Jesus said. And not just some random, out of context parable or musing, but exactly what Jesus said was the most important thing he would ever say.
I'll be back with the rest of the local and state ballot measures soon.
10.25.2008
My Platform, part one
My Platform, Part One.
It's no secret that I can't vote. It's also no secret that voting is probably THE most important right and responsibility afforded to a citizen. And despite that, I'm increasingly realizing, voting is probably not enough. We need to talk about the issues, talk about how we will vote, talk about the things we're not sure of, and, in my case, just talk.
On November 4th, my husband will take my First Generation American son to the polling station, and instead I will probably go to Melanie's house and do shots to fend off the nervousness. Here's how I would vote, on the major things. I also have some thoughts on the less covered, less exciting stuff, and will post that soon enough, too:
President of the United States: Barack Obama
In my relatively short lifetime, I have never been so inspired by a political leader as I am by Obama. I have never felt such a drive to truly change my country rather than complain about it. The mere thought of the direction of our country under his leadership gives me hope, and makes me feel at peace. I could go on and on.
No on Proposition 8.
In my mind, there is nothing redeeming about this ballot measure. There is nothing Christian about this ballot measure, so don't go there. Jesus would turn water into wine at a homosexual wedding, FYI. Despite what some of the supporters of Prop 8 say, it will not require that our 4th graders will study homosexuality in school. That is such fearmongering. 4th graders don't even study heterosexual marriage. And, to tell you the truth, I kind of wish my kids would be exposed to this level of equality in school. It's important to me that Ollie grow up in a world where he and his neighbors are free to be with the people they love, to spend the rest of their lives together, fully recognized and supported by the state.
District 3 City Council: Stephen Whitburn
This is a hot race right now, between Stephen Whitburn and Todd Gloria. We get at least two mailings each day. District 3 covers Hillcrest, University Heights, North Park, South Park, Golden Hill, City Heights, Kensington, Talmadge, and Normal Heights. Basically, my favorite parts of San Diego, and Stephen Whitburn lives in North Park, my (obvious) favorite part of District 3. Stephen Whitburn has nabbed critical endorsements from the Democratic Party and the Sierra Club. Whitburn and Gloria are both plenty liberal (and also, both are openly gay), but I have to side with Whitburn's stronger stance against excessive development and in favor of smart growth and infrastructer, and a stronger campaign focus on education. The Sierra Club endorsement also sealed the deal for me. Actually, Erik voted for Whitburn in the primary, and that's probably what really did make up my mind.
City Attorney: Mike Aguirre (incumbent)
Mike Aguirre is (and feel free to kill me for using this word) a total maverick. Our City Attorney since 2004, he is a hardworking, courageous badass and will not back down, will not pander to the city council or mayor's office, and will not rest until the people of San Diego are well represented. The amount of material this guy publishes is ridiculous. He is constantly working. Also, he runs the Rock and Roll Marathon every year in San Diego, every single one since it was established in 1998. Only having done it once, I have no idea how he manages to train for marathons year-round (something like 23 total marathons) without fully sacrificing his professional and personal life, but NO, he continues to be one of the more prolific public figures San Diego has ever known. Like I said, badass. He probably has to force himself to go running at the end of the day lest he light stuff on fire or explode. Mike Aguirre will be one of the new characters in next season's Heroes.
Aguirre's opponent, Jan Goldsmith, is supported by developers, Republicans, and the Union Tribune. Oh, also, the Log Cabin Club? His entire campaign platform is to just kind of snark on Mike Aguirre, so that's annoying. Like, every line is "I will do such and such, UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE."
No on Proposition 4.
Prop 4 changes the CA constitution, mandating parental consent (and a 48 hour waiting period) for minors receiving abortions. The limited allowances and exceptions in the ballot measure are insignificant. Having once been a 14 year old girl (paraphrase credit to Jeffrey Eugenides), I will tell you that Proposition 4 will undeniably increase the risks associated with abortion in teenage girls. Alone, Prop 4 will NOT decrease the amount of teenage abortions. It will send them to Mexico. It will result in them trying dangerous methods to attempt to end the pregnancy, and I'm not just talking about the stereotypical coat hanger. I'm also not just talking about young women who fear physical abuse from their parents. I'm not just talking about young women who were raped. I would also like to add that opposition for Prop 4 is not just about fear and safety, protecting teenager girls - it's about trusting them. It's about treating them as human beings.
I also want to add that I fear this proposition is being opposed not because of the rights, health, and safety of teenage girls, but because of opposition to abortion in general. Believe what you may about abortion, but I can't imagine a more at-risk group of individuals than teenage women to deny unbridled access to all their options. It would be so devastating, so dangerous, and ultimately, so ineffective in reducing abortions.
Yes on Proposition 2
I know you're probably writing me off here, the crazy vegan. Hear me out. I understand that the critics assume that, in particular, poultry farming will be pushed out of state due to a financial ability to meet the new requirements. I do pity the farmers and their families that will be required to adjust to safer, more humane, and more environmentally friendly and sustainable practices. However, I do not support inhumane and non-sustainable farming to the point that I do not consume the products of these methods. If we have to have that kind of farming in order to keep farmers employed, then something is wrong. Hopefully Prop 2 will fix this.
Apparently, it will cost farmers 1 cent per egg to switch from confined cages. But, correct me if I'm wrong here because I'm no economics whiz, but wouldn't the price to consumers decrease as more cage-free, humane eggs were available and on our California grocery shelves? Increased supply. right?
Jobs will not be lost, quite the contrary. Mexico will not suddenly develop an egg export surplus and become a primary supplier for California. It will NOT make our food less safe.
The consequences of crated, caged farming are not worth it.
And that's all for now. I know, I know, so much for my self-instituted ban on political blogging. I just couldn't help myself.
It's no secret that I can't vote. It's also no secret that voting is probably THE most important right and responsibility afforded to a citizen. And despite that, I'm increasingly realizing, voting is probably not enough. We need to talk about the issues, talk about how we will vote, talk about the things we're not sure of, and, in my case, just talk.
On November 4th, my husband will take my First Generation American son to the polling station, and instead I will probably go to Melanie's house and do shots to fend off the nervousness. Here's how I would vote, on the major things. I also have some thoughts on the less covered, less exciting stuff, and will post that soon enough, too:
President of the United States: Barack Obama
In my relatively short lifetime, I have never been so inspired by a political leader as I am by Obama. I have never felt such a drive to truly change my country rather than complain about it. The mere thought of the direction of our country under his leadership gives me hope, and makes me feel at peace. I could go on and on.
No on Proposition 8.
In my mind, there is nothing redeeming about this ballot measure. There is nothing Christian about this ballot measure, so don't go there. Jesus would turn water into wine at a homosexual wedding, FYI. Despite what some of the supporters of Prop 8 say, it will not require that our 4th graders will study homosexuality in school. That is such fearmongering. 4th graders don't even study heterosexual marriage. And, to tell you the truth, I kind of wish my kids would be exposed to this level of equality in school. It's important to me that Ollie grow up in a world where he and his neighbors are free to be with the people they love, to spend the rest of their lives together, fully recognized and supported by the state.
District 3 City Council: Stephen Whitburn
This is a hot race right now, between Stephen Whitburn and Todd Gloria. We get at least two mailings each day. District 3 covers Hillcrest, University Heights, North Park, South Park, Golden Hill, City Heights, Kensington, Talmadge, and Normal Heights. Basically, my favorite parts of San Diego, and Stephen Whitburn lives in North Park, my (obvious) favorite part of District 3. Stephen Whitburn has nabbed critical endorsements from the Democratic Party and the Sierra Club. Whitburn and Gloria are both plenty liberal (and also, both are openly gay), but I have to side with Whitburn's stronger stance against excessive development and in favor of smart growth and infrastructer, and a stronger campaign focus on education. The Sierra Club endorsement also sealed the deal for me. Actually, Erik voted for Whitburn in the primary, and that's probably what really did make up my mind.
City Attorney: Mike Aguirre (incumbent)
Mike Aguirre is (and feel free to kill me for using this word) a total maverick. Our City Attorney since 2004, he is a hardworking, courageous badass and will not back down, will not pander to the city council or mayor's office, and will not rest until the people of San Diego are well represented. The amount of material this guy publishes is ridiculous. He is constantly working. Also, he runs the Rock and Roll Marathon every year in San Diego, every single one since it was established in 1998. Only having done it once, I have no idea how he manages to train for marathons year-round (something like 23 total marathons) without fully sacrificing his professional and personal life, but NO, he continues to be one of the more prolific public figures San Diego has ever known. Like I said, badass. He probably has to force himself to go running at the end of the day lest he light stuff on fire or explode. Mike Aguirre will be one of the new characters in next season's Heroes.
Aguirre's opponent, Jan Goldsmith, is supported by developers, Republicans, and the Union Tribune. Oh, also, the Log Cabin Club? His entire campaign platform is to just kind of snark on Mike Aguirre, so that's annoying. Like, every line is "I will do such and such, UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE."
No on Proposition 4.
Prop 4 changes the CA constitution, mandating parental consent (and a 48 hour waiting period) for minors receiving abortions. The limited allowances and exceptions in the ballot measure are insignificant. Having once been a 14 year old girl (paraphrase credit to Jeffrey Eugenides), I will tell you that Proposition 4 will undeniably increase the risks associated with abortion in teenage girls. Alone, Prop 4 will NOT decrease the amount of teenage abortions. It will send them to Mexico. It will result in them trying dangerous methods to attempt to end the pregnancy, and I'm not just talking about the stereotypical coat hanger. I'm also not just talking about young women who fear physical abuse from their parents. I'm not just talking about young women who were raped. I would also like to add that opposition for Prop 4 is not just about fear and safety, protecting teenager girls - it's about trusting them. It's about treating them as human beings.
I also want to add that I fear this proposition is being opposed not because of the rights, health, and safety of teenage girls, but because of opposition to abortion in general. Believe what you may about abortion, but I can't imagine a more at-risk group of individuals than teenage women to deny unbridled access to all their options. It would be so devastating, so dangerous, and ultimately, so ineffective in reducing abortions.
Yes on Proposition 2
I know you're probably writing me off here, the crazy vegan. Hear me out. I understand that the critics assume that, in particular, poultry farming will be pushed out of state due to a financial ability to meet the new requirements. I do pity the farmers and their families that will be required to adjust to safer, more humane, and more environmentally friendly and sustainable practices. However, I do not support inhumane and non-sustainable farming to the point that I do not consume the products of these methods. If we have to have that kind of farming in order to keep farmers employed, then something is wrong. Hopefully Prop 2 will fix this.
Apparently, it will cost farmers 1 cent per egg to switch from confined cages. But, correct me if I'm wrong here because I'm no economics whiz, but wouldn't the price to consumers decrease as more cage-free, humane eggs were available and on our California grocery shelves? Increased supply. right?
Jobs will not be lost, quite the contrary. Mexico will not suddenly develop an egg export surplus and become a primary supplier for California. It will NOT make our food less safe.
The consequences of crated, caged farming are not worth it.
And that's all for now. I know, I know, so much for my self-instituted ban on political blogging. I just couldn't help myself.
10.21.2008
Songs for a Blue Guitar.
Songs for a Blue Guitar.
Yeah, it looks like I'm going to talk about something I never talk about on here: music. Today, I dusted off Red House Painters' "Songs for a Blue Guitar," which I have to say, is probably one of the best albums ever made. As the first strums fired up in the first song, "Have you Forgotten," I felt this really amazing warmth and familiarity, a good and faithful old friend.
I also then remembered blogging about the song something like five years ago. A few days ago, in the Iron and Wine Trapeze Swinger post, I told you the only other time I posted lyrics in full on this blog was for another Iron and Wine song. Well, I was wrong, and I just wanted to own that.
I suppose if there's anything to rival Iron and Wine's imagined lyrical sovereignty on here, it might as well be something from Songs for a Blue Guitar.
Yeah, it looks like I'm going to talk about something I never talk about on here: music. Today, I dusted off Red House Painters' "Songs for a Blue Guitar," which I have to say, is probably one of the best albums ever made. As the first strums fired up in the first song, "Have you Forgotten," I felt this really amazing warmth and familiarity, a good and faithful old friend.
I also then remembered blogging about the song something like five years ago. A few days ago, in the Iron and Wine Trapeze Swinger post, I told you the only other time I posted lyrics in full on this blog was for another Iron and Wine song. Well, I was wrong, and I just wanted to own that.
I suppose if there's anything to rival Iron and Wine's imagined lyrical sovereignty on here, it might as well be something from Songs for a Blue Guitar.
10.20.2008
Yearbook Confessions, vol III
Yearbook Confessions, volume III: "and I'm signing your yearbook."
(volume I)
(volume II)
This absolute gem is from Ali, one of my dearest and oldest friends. He recently moved back to town and good times ensued. Although it's really messing with me to switch back and forth saying Ollie and Ali.
I'm not even going to introduce this message, because it is just *that* awesome.
So heartfelt, and I'm so glad he specified what he was doing.
(volume I)
(volume II)
This absolute gem is from Ali, one of my dearest and oldest friends. He recently moved back to town and good times ensued. Although it's really messing with me to switch back and forth saying Ollie and Ali.
I'm not even going to introduce this message, because it is just *that* awesome.
Julia,
It is 11:53 am June 11, 1996. We're sitting here at lunch. Ryan is eating nachos, Nick is sucking on bread sticks, and I'm signing your yearbook. I'm glad you chose UCSD because I prophesized [sic] it on the back of the picture I gave you. I'll see you over the summer and next year at school.
Later,
Ali
So heartfelt, and I'm so glad he specified what he was doing.
10.18.2008
Creative.
Creative.
I've been trying to do a little more creative writing lately. I am so far from the writer I would like to be, or, even more frustratingly, the writer that I sometimes think I am, while flickers of an image or a story quickly slip away from me as I sit paralyzed at the keyboard, unable to translate. A few months ago, I started writing (in fact, I even got halfway through) a story but have recently concluded it is a big suck. Sorry to everyone who read bits and pieces or even entire chapters (or the whole thing, Sarah). Maybe one day I'll wrap it all up and we can resolve some cliffhangers. Regardless, the time I spent on that story was an amazing experience, and it probably improved my writing. Mostly, it just felt good to create and besides a major screenwriting contract (wherein I have a clause to oversee the soundtrack too), that's really what I want out of writing.
Then I started wondering about what I could do in a blogging space. First there's the obvious problem I have that whenever I get remotely inspired and try to be fancy with words, I end up just talking about music. But we also have to contend with the boundaries of a blog: public, supposedly unfiltered, and supposedly real life, non-fiction. I have written some pretty obscure stuff on here, mostly because I was burying something significant at the time and needed an outlet, an anonymous outlet. For better or for worse, this blog is nowhere near as anonymous as I had originally intended, and only occasionally does that really bother me. Usually it's a blessing, in more ways than one, to the point that basically everyone I know [but am not related to] knows it exists. If you tell my parents I will cut you. But because this outlet is no longer anonymous I just had to make what I painted on the canvas unrecognizable.
[There was also the time a few days before I got married where I clearly didn't think to sugar coat with "creative" obscurity, writing, and I quote, "all my friends hate me and only talk about themselves."]
And on the other hand, sometimes I just want to pull something out of thin air.
Anyway, there's one thing I hate more than blogging, and it's blogging about blogging, so I won't speak of it again (tonight). So without further ado I think I might start peppering this "website" with random little dalliances in creative writing, tiny outbursts of fiction (however ambiguous), little practices (however excruciating).
***
This is a conversation she didn't have with me.
"I love it when the moon is like this," I said without pointing.
But she couldn't see anything, squinting through the windshield in search of some giant, pink, low version, the type of moon that usually makes her breath catch. Finally, she caught sight of it. A tiny slice of crescent, thinner even than the silver wedding ring draped around her finger, flashing in matching intervals with the overhead street lights.
"Oh, I almost didn't see it," she answered clumsily while her thoughts were flooded by the greatness of so delicate a moon and the greatness of me watching it too, next to her. She wanted to say more, to own the beauty in the sky, to share it with me somehow, but she held it captive.
Then, it was gone again, behind a building or even a leafless branch. It was, after all, easy to hide.
She drove away from that moment hoping I just assumed that my love for the moon was profound enough to silence her, not that she didn't care. About it, about me. Or, she tried to hope that I didn't think anything of it at all and that should probably be her best option.
Later she stood close to me outside the tall building that somehow still felt low-slung and wide, the night quiet and easy between us.
"I'm drawn to you," she wanted to say, and the air was no longer easy. The remaining few trickled out, sometimes greeting us but sometimes hurrying past, her thoughts excited and proud that someone might think there was something between us. We talked hushedly about meaningless things, things which could have been overheard but maybe both she and I craved the whisper.
She didn't want to talk about meaningless things.
And she didn't want to say goodnight first. She didn't want to leave. But perhaps even moreso she didn't want me to say goodnight first and have to respond quickly and awkwardly with something like, "oh yeah, sure, I should get going too," so she did say it first. But this is about what she didn't say. And what I then couldn't say back to her.
I've been trying to do a little more creative writing lately. I am so far from the writer I would like to be, or, even more frustratingly, the writer that I sometimes think I am, while flickers of an image or a story quickly slip away from me as I sit paralyzed at the keyboard, unable to translate. A few months ago, I started writing (in fact, I even got halfway through) a story but have recently concluded it is a big suck. Sorry to everyone who read bits and pieces or even entire chapters (or the whole thing, Sarah). Maybe one day I'll wrap it all up and we can resolve some cliffhangers. Regardless, the time I spent on that story was an amazing experience, and it probably improved my writing. Mostly, it just felt good to create and besides a major screenwriting contract (wherein I have a clause to oversee the soundtrack too), that's really what I want out of writing.
Then I started wondering about what I could do in a blogging space. First there's the obvious problem I have that whenever I get remotely inspired and try to be fancy with words, I end up just talking about music. But we also have to contend with the boundaries of a blog: public, supposedly unfiltered, and supposedly real life, non-fiction. I have written some pretty obscure stuff on here, mostly because I was burying something significant at the time and needed an outlet, an anonymous outlet. For better or for worse, this blog is nowhere near as anonymous as I had originally intended, and only occasionally does that really bother me. Usually it's a blessing, in more ways than one, to the point that basically everyone I know [but am not related to] knows it exists. If you tell my parents I will cut you. But because this outlet is no longer anonymous I just had to make what I painted on the canvas unrecognizable.
[There was also the time a few days before I got married where I clearly didn't think to sugar coat with "creative" obscurity, writing, and I quote, "all my friends hate me and only talk about themselves."]
And on the other hand, sometimes I just want to pull something out of thin air.
Anyway, there's one thing I hate more than blogging, and it's blogging about blogging, so I won't speak of it again (tonight). So without further ado I think I might start peppering this "website" with random little dalliances in creative writing, tiny outbursts of fiction (however ambiguous), little practices (however excruciating).
***
This is a conversation she didn't have with me.
"I love it when the moon is like this," I said without pointing.
But she couldn't see anything, squinting through the windshield in search of some giant, pink, low version, the type of moon that usually makes her breath catch. Finally, she caught sight of it. A tiny slice of crescent, thinner even than the silver wedding ring draped around her finger, flashing in matching intervals with the overhead street lights.
"Oh, I almost didn't see it," she answered clumsily while her thoughts were flooded by the greatness of so delicate a moon and the greatness of me watching it too, next to her. She wanted to say more, to own the beauty in the sky, to share it with me somehow, but she held it captive.
Then, it was gone again, behind a building or even a leafless branch. It was, after all, easy to hide.
She drove away from that moment hoping I just assumed that my love for the moon was profound enough to silence her, not that she didn't care. About it, about me. Or, she tried to hope that I didn't think anything of it at all and that should probably be her best option.
Later she stood close to me outside the tall building that somehow still felt low-slung and wide, the night quiet and easy between us.
"I'm drawn to you," she wanted to say, and the air was no longer easy. The remaining few trickled out, sometimes greeting us but sometimes hurrying past, her thoughts excited and proud that someone might think there was something between us. We talked hushedly about meaningless things, things which could have been overheard but maybe both she and I craved the whisper.
She didn't want to talk about meaningless things.
And she didn't want to say goodnight first. She didn't want to leave. But perhaps even moreso she didn't want me to say goodnight first and have to respond quickly and awkwardly with something like, "oh yeah, sure, I should get going too," so she did say it first. But this is about what she didn't say. And what I then couldn't say back to her.
10.14.2008
Yearbook Confessions, vol II
Yearbook Confessions, volume II.
(see volume I)
Just now, I realized that for this shameful blogging project, I should probably get the rest of my high school yearbooks and, HOLD ON FOR THIS, my middle school yearbooks from my parents' house. Unfortunately I was up there today and walked away empty handed.
Today I will have two relatively mild ones to hold you over until I finally get around to typing up the high school boyfriend's message, wherein he lists the contents of his bank account. One will actually be a non-cliche-ridden note. This is from Courtney, who was, if I recall, valedictorian. Or one of them. Whatever, she was brilliant beyond comprehension. And delightfully sarcastic. And a huge Tori Amos and No Doubt (in the early 90s!) fan. I would say this message doesn't really fall into any of the categories, but what can you expect from an indie rock valedictorian?
I have also noticed that we all address our yearbook message recipients by name. To distinguish it from other messages in their own yearbook intended for someone else?
The second is an all-encompassing, all-category affair from Kirk (barely, but category 4 was saved by inviting himself over to my pool). He was dating one of my best friends. Unfortunately this one isn't very anonymous because everyone knows exactly how many Kirks there were in our class.
Well, that is all. I'm going to have to post some other non-yearbook-related-stuff soon, but will eventually resume this series and get to some of the gems. And, I promise you, I will soon break out the 8th grade quality well-wishes. AND, since Elaine asked, I am definitely going to plan a Dramatic Public Reading night.
(see volume I)
Just now, I realized that for this shameful blogging project, I should probably get the rest of my high school yearbooks and, HOLD ON FOR THIS, my middle school yearbooks from my parents' house. Unfortunately I was up there today and walked away empty handed.
Today I will have two relatively mild ones to hold you over until I finally get around to typing up the high school boyfriend's message, wherein he lists the contents of his bank account. One will actually be a non-cliche-ridden note. This is from Courtney, who was, if I recall, valedictorian. Or one of them. Whatever, she was brilliant beyond comprehension. And delightfully sarcastic. And a huge Tori Amos and No Doubt (in the early 90s!) fan. I would say this message doesn't really fall into any of the categories, but what can you expect from an indie rock valedictorian?
I have also noticed that we all address our yearbook message recipients by name. To distinguish it from other messages in their own yearbook intended for someone else?
Julia,
I'm the priveleged [sic, yesssss, a flaw to her intellect!] first to sign your yearbook! I've always lusted after your shoes, y'know. It's too bad your evil Satanic imp of a boyfriend (just kidding) [I'm guessing she was at least partially not kidding] stole you away from us this year. Without you, cheese muffin loading before track meets wasn't the same. I hope you find happiness (and great shoes) wherever life takes you.
*heart* Courtney
The second is an all-encompassing, all-category affair from Kirk (barely, but category 4 was saved by inviting himself over to my pool). He was dating one of my best friends. Unfortunately this one isn't very anonymous because everyone knows exactly how many Kirks there were in our class.
Julia,
My friend, my Pal, My Love... Shhh! Don't tell Nika! (J.K.).
You are a really great person. You are always fun to be around and do stuff with. Nick is a good man and you should stay by his side. Over the summer you should invite me over and we'll go swimming in your pool. That would be fun! Don't hesitate to call or come visit me at UCLA. Good luck at UCSD and be sure to have lots of fun. See ya later! -Kirk
Well, that is all. I'm going to have to post some other non-yearbook-related-stuff soon, but will eventually resume this series and get to some of the gems. And, I promise you, I will soon break out the 8th grade quality well-wishes. AND, since Elaine asked, I am definitely going to plan a Dramatic Public Reading night.
10.13.2008
Notes from a High School Yearbook.
Notes from a High School Yearbook.
I'm starting a new series here. Behold. Last night, I had some old high school friends over, and, somehow, my senior yearbook (1996) made an appearance. Eventually, we started reading the messages that people had written me out loud. Let me tell you, those are some fine works of poetry. We started on my high school boyfriend's message to me, but that one is far too golden to start with. You'll have to wait until we adequately warm up.
There were several themes in my yearbook and most of the messages seem to fit into those. Four, that I can count.
1. Comments about me being sweet, the #1 all time high school yearbook adjective, primarily from girls. These ones usually don't reference Nick at all, probably because (in retrospect) those girls usually weren't fans. Or in a small handful of cases (two?), I'm pretty sure they were in love with him themselves.
2. Comments or snarks about Nick, or even just well wishes.
3. Fabricated references to lewd acts, primarily from boys. And then a comment about Nick.
4. References to band and cross country. And/or my parents' pool.
I'm going to withhold the last names to protect the innocent. Spelling and grammar errors, however, will be maintained in the true documentary spirit.
I'm going to start with a Category 1 post. This is from Jess, who was a junior when I was a senior, and in my math class. She was probably, randomly (i.e., not in band/track/nick's friends), one of my closest friends that year, and it all began with that famous crayon note, which I undoubtedly still have. She was completely rad (tm 1996).
AWESOME. My favorite part, and this seems to happen a lot in yearbooks, was when she started to try to list the inside jokes, but then the sentence kind of fell flat or the things really weren't that unique. I have no idea what "and then coco's" means. Maybe we had bagels and milkshakes at a Coco's restaurant?
Oh, damn it, I almost can't stop. I had to literally close the book lest I just type them all up right now.
p.s., Stay sweet.
I'm starting a new series here. Behold. Last night, I had some old high school friends over, and, somehow, my senior yearbook (1996) made an appearance. Eventually, we started reading the messages that people had written me out loud. Let me tell you, those are some fine works of poetry. We started on my high school boyfriend's message to me, but that one is far too golden to start with. You'll have to wait until we adequately warm up.
There were several themes in my yearbook and most of the messages seem to fit into those. Four, that I can count.
1. Comments about me being sweet, the #1 all time high school yearbook adjective, primarily from girls. These ones usually don't reference Nick at all, probably because (in retrospect) those girls usually weren't fans. Or in a small handful of cases (two?), I'm pretty sure they were in love with him themselves.
2. Comments or snarks about Nick, or even just well wishes.
3. Fabricated references to lewd acts, primarily from boys. And then a comment about Nick.
4. References to band and cross country. And/or my parents' pool.
I'm going to withhold the last names to protect the innocent. Spelling and grammar errors, however, will be maintained in the true documentary spirit.
I'm going to start with a Category 1 post. This is from Jess, who was a junior when I was a senior, and in my math class. She was probably, randomly (i.e., not in band/track/nick's friends), one of my closest friends that year, and it all began with that famous crayon note, which I undoubtedly still have. She was completely rad (tm 1996).
To my wonderful twin, Julia-
I think you're great! This is not some cheesy, insincere message, this is totally 100% I love you message. I think you are the coolest and I am so glad that you think that of me as well. I can remember that first time in math when you looked sad and I wrote you a pretty crayon note asking me [sic] not to think I was strange and that began the legacy - there was the CIF locker, the x-mas locker, miscellaneous math notes, tent party, and then coco's. Oh, and swimming in your pool and running into you at Top of the Cove oh and our homecoming picture. I really like spending time with you - you're so sweet and nice and complementary [sic, maybe, unless she was being profound] and understanding. And besides, you're blond - who can go wrong w/ that. I am so glad you aren't really leaving because I look forward to tons of stuff in the future with you like bagels & milkshakes. Just in case you lose it (which you won't) [which I did]: 675-####.
I LOVE YOU!
-Jess
AWESOME. My favorite part, and this seems to happen a lot in yearbooks, was when she started to try to list the inside jokes, but then the sentence kind of fell flat or the things really weren't that unique. I have no idea what "and then coco's" means. Maybe we had bagels and milkshakes at a Coco's restaurant?
Oh, damn it, I almost can't stop. I had to literally close the book lest I just type them all up right now.
p.s., Stay sweet.
10.11.2008
Six Years.
Six Years.
Six years ago this month (a few days ago to be precise), I started this little blog. I'm kind of amazed and proud that I have stuck with it so long.
Every year I remember to blog about the anniversary I probably warn everyone to PLEASE GOD DO NOT GO BACK AND READ THOSE EARLY POSTS because they are seriously, undeniably awful posts and I can hardly recognize the person writing that stuff. But I can tell you're going to do it anyway, especially now that I've forbidden it. I'm still mourning the loss of the first two years of comments, too.
I guess when I really think about it and deconstruct why I have kept this up, it's because I am happy and thankful to have this website in my life. It's seen me through a lot, and looking back, I'm pretty sure there have been a few times that this blog has written me.
Six years ago this month (a few days ago to be precise), I started this little blog. I'm kind of amazed and proud that I have stuck with it so long.
Every year I remember to blog about the anniversary I probably warn everyone to PLEASE GOD DO NOT GO BACK AND READ THOSE EARLY POSTS because they are seriously, undeniably awful posts and I can hardly recognize the person writing that stuff. But I can tell you're going to do it anyway, especially now that I've forbidden it. I'm still mourning the loss of the first two years of comments, too.
I guess when I really think about it and deconstruct why I have kept this up, it's because I am happy and thankful to have this website in my life. It's seen me through a lot, and looking back, I'm pretty sure there have been a few times that this blog has written me.
10.10.2008
Iron and Wine
Iron and Wine
Last week, Erik and I joined Tessa and Chris to go to a concert! Live music! We saw Iron & Wine, and The Swell Season (the Once movie peeps). It was incredible. Iron and Wine opened (!!), a mostly solo set, and he was, as usual, absolutely stunning. His music, his remarkably lyrical imagery, and his voice, literally filled the place and my entire self and soul, beginning with the first few words of his first song. (Which! I had never heard before. It turns out it is a somewhat hard-to-find B side and will post the lyrics for you in a minute.)
We all assumed that The Swell Season would pale in comparison, but they held their own, differently. But maybe it was just because time was passing since Iron and Wine's opening song. Tessa and Chris will tell you that Glen Hansard's seriously neurotic storytelling skills kind of ruined things a bit, but I still really liked their set. What I did not like was all those scantily dressed older women having the same taste as me. And also two particular scantily dressed older women stage dancing, but I am trying to repress that so it won't be discussed.
But back to Iron and Wine. You should know that I have only ever posted the lyrics to one full song in its entirety before, and it was another Iron and Wine song, the amazing Upward Over the Mountain. I tread very carefully with the lyric spewing on here, so trust me on this. It starts out so simply and universally but then weaves itself through this complex path of interconnected images and I think, most significantly, death. Sam Beam, I swear, he is my favorite poet. Also, as an aside, my next trick will be to count the appearance of dog-related imagery in his songs.
But, this song stole the entire night, and I was reminded of it in particular this afternoon amidst a particularly hefty dose of nostalgia. Nostalgia is so intense to me, reflecting on lives and loves lost or given away. It sometimes consumes me. Not the people, not the actual things that happened, but dealing with my memories, processing what the relationships, the friendships, the love, the hurt, the everything... what it all has changed in me, and who I am in its stead.
Read, listen, whatever:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raVzi_y6XWI
(I know, I know. TOPHER GRACE is smirking right at you the whole time. At least Dennis Quaid is mid-life-angsting at the ground.)
Last week, Erik and I joined Tessa and Chris to go to a concert! Live music! We saw Iron & Wine, and The Swell Season (the Once movie peeps). It was incredible. Iron and Wine opened (!!), a mostly solo set, and he was, as usual, absolutely stunning. His music, his remarkably lyrical imagery, and his voice, literally filled the place and my entire self and soul, beginning with the first few words of his first song. (Which! I had never heard before. It turns out it is a somewhat hard-to-find B side and will post the lyrics for you in a minute.)
We all assumed that The Swell Season would pale in comparison, but they held their own, differently. But maybe it was just because time was passing since Iron and Wine's opening song. Tessa and Chris will tell you that Glen Hansard's seriously neurotic storytelling skills kind of ruined things a bit, but I still really liked their set. What I did not like was all those scantily dressed older women having the same taste as me. And also two particular scantily dressed older women stage dancing, but I am trying to repress that so it won't be discussed.
But back to Iron and Wine. You should know that I have only ever posted the lyrics to one full song in its entirety before, and it was another Iron and Wine song, the amazing Upward Over the Mountain. I tread very carefully with the lyric spewing on here, so trust me on this. It starts out so simply and universally but then weaves itself through this complex path of interconnected images and I think, most significantly, death. Sam Beam, I swear, he is my favorite poet. Also, as an aside, my next trick will be to count the appearance of dog-related imagery in his songs.
But, this song stole the entire night, and I was reminded of it in particular this afternoon amidst a particularly hefty dose of nostalgia. Nostalgia is so intense to me, reflecting on lives and loves lost or given away. It sometimes consumes me. Not the people, not the actual things that happened, but dealing with my memories, processing what the relationships, the friendships, the love, the hurt, the everything... what it all has changed in me, and who I am in its stead.
Read, listen, whatever:
THE TRAPEZE SWINGER.
-Iron and Wine
Please remember me happily by the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin, the time when we counted every black car passing
Your house, beneath the hills, and up until someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range, a piggy bank, a vision too removed to mention...
Please remember me fondly, I heard from someone you're still pretty
And then they went on to say that the pearly gates had such eloquent grafitti
Like "we will meet again" and "fuck the man" and "tell my mother not to worry"
The angels with their gray handshakes, always done in such a hurry...
Please remember me, on Halloween, making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white, by midnight we'd forgotten one another
And when the morning came I felt ashamed, only now it seems so silly
That season left the world and then returned but now you're lit up by the city...
Please remember me mistakenly in the window of the tallest tower
Call and pass us by but much too high to see the empty road at happy hour
Gleam and resonate just like the gates around the holy kingdom
With words like "lost and found" and "don't look down" and "someone save temptation..."
Please remember me as in the dream we had as rug-burned babies
Among the fallen trees but fast asleep aside the lions and the ladies
Who call you what you like and even might give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see the trapeze swinger high as any savior...
Please remember me, my misery, and how it lost me all I wanted
The dogs that love the rain and chasing trains, the colored birds above their running
In circles 'round the well, near where it spells on the wall behind St. Peters
So bright on cinder gray with spraypaint "who the hell can see forever?"
Please remember me seldomly in the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees you turned from me and said the trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last, the clowns that passed saw me just come up with anger
And filled with circus dogs, the parking lot, had an element of danger...
Please remember me finally and all my uphill clawing
My dear, if I make the pearly gates I'll do my best to make a drawing
Of God and Lucifer, a boy and girl, an angel kissing on a sinner
A monkey and a man, a marching band, all around a frightened trapeze swinger
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raVzi_y6XWI
(I know, I know. TOPHER GRACE is smirking right at you the whole time. At least Dennis Quaid is mid-life-angsting at the ground.)
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