oh, the things i think about in the office bathroom...
Dear Corporate Sanitary Products Supplier,

Don't think I can't see through your evil schemes. Don't think I don't know about the planned obsolescence-type tricks you're pulling. And don't think I don't know that you actually market that stuff to your customers. Namely, my employer. You convince them that all your newfangled products will reduce employee usage and save them money.

And don't think I'll buy any greenwashed excuses you throw at me. Sure, you might care about conserving the environment, but my employer certainly doesn't. And it's their money you want.

I can just picture your marketing material - brochures that you hope never leave the desks of corporate purchasers...

"Our toilet paper rolls stop rolling after only 2 squares! It's our stingiest dispenser yet! Guaranteed to reduce employee usage! Guaranteed to save you money! Oh yeah, and guaranteed to save trees, too."

"Our seat covers are perforated across the grain of the paper, not along the grain. This means they'll be far too frustrating for your employees to use regularly! Guaranteed to reduce employee usage! Guaranteed to save you money!"

"Our air-blower hand dryers are so ineffective that your employees will either bring their own towels, or just dry their hands on their pants. Guaranteed to reduce employee usage! Guaranteed to save you money on your electricity bill!"

"Our overall Office Bathroom Package will eventually encourage employees to use your facilities less, which could save you money on cleaning. Your employees may even reduce water-intake throughout the day to avoid using our products - guaranteed to save you money on drinking water!"

I can see right through you, FYI. And I'm still using the seat covers, frustrating perforations and all.

Sincerely,
An OCD Office Restroom User

blue. no! yelloooooooooooooooooooow
so, erik got a notice yesterday informing him that he didn't get the yellowstone national park cartographer job, but that he was qualified enough. it was depressing for both of us as a couple, and also for both of us individually.

we weren't completely sold on moving, but bringing that letter from the Department of the Interior into the house, i totally got my hopes up. i figured that worst-case scenario, it would be a letter saying, "we got your application. thank you. stay tuned."

in the last few months, he's expanded his local job hunt not only nationally, but internationally - looking into embassies, consulates, and other such foreign assignments. just as recently, however, he also limited his job search. he realized that his last job, working for a private land-use planner, was a huge conflict of interest for him. there he was encouraging developers, not regulating them. he's pretty much sticking to government, regulatory organizations. so don't get too excited. the new expanded search across the country and globe doesn't really help us too much in the big picture.

enter julia, with her continuing search for the Perfect Non-Profit job. you know, the one that doesn't require previous non-profit employment but isn't making coffee and copies. in addition to our finances being slightly in turmoil right now, we now add the potential to move far away. basically, this really fucks with any chance of a fruitful job search for me. i have a somewhat comfortable income that mostly provides for the both of us, despite the fact that i paid TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY NINE CENTS PER GALLON for gas yesterday, and that the median price of a home is OVER FOUR HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS. until we know for sure that we're moving somewhere with a more reasonable cost of living, i'm stuck here. i'm tied to a job. fucking A. i was a literature major at one of the biggest science and research institutions in the region, for crying out loud. everyone around me studied biology or engineering or computer science (read: "people with job prospects"). being tied to a job wasn't even on the radar. (mostly due to the fact that actually having a job wasn't on the radar, but that's not my point.)

being tied to tech writing isn't going to stop me from enrolling in a non-profit management certificate program at a local university, but it's sure as hell going to make every class i sit through just that little bit more depressing.

i really feel like for the first time in my life, i'm not using the word "depressing" lightly. i actually mean it. i'm depressed about this. admitting being depressed during the first year of marriage is a HUGE blow to my ego. everything is just supposed to roll off me right now. why do something meaningful with your life when you're so in love?!

thus, last weekend, i broke down. it was a combination of my usual "my friends don't need me as much as i need them" whine with this newly surfaced resentment for the rut i'm in, and for the job-hunting husband contributing to that rut.

enter unruly packing peanuts, and you have yourself a very unhappy woman.

up, and down
i had a wrenching, bipolar weekend. it included things like a) discussing the fact that erik's unfruitful job search is pretty much keeping me chained to a job i hate that doesn't make a difference in the world, b) resenting my friends, c) fighting with my husband about PACKING PEANUTS, and d) taking a car load of middle school girls up to the museum of tolerance in los angeles to learn about the holocaust and listen to a "survivor" lecture.

they girls in our car kept bothering the very reserved erik to say something. they asked things like his birth weight and the most trouble he's been in. the most talkative of them, katie, used the phrase, "your silence is peculiar to me." and how. katie was the bane of our existence three years ago in our sunday school class with her constant "i have a question, well, it's more of a comment, really" interjections. she's now my new best friend.

also, we had our current sunday school class "wash away their sins" by writing things down that they're ashamed of on pieces of paper towels with washable markers and swishing them around in a bowl of water. i'm not sure if they really took away what i'd hoped from the activity. one kid showed me he wrote "Spelling" on this piece of paper. another kid wrote "Writing in cursive." one girl announced to everyone else that her paper was "the best," after it turned the water a lovely pale purple color.

the whole thing was just funny. the concept of sin and forgiveness are easy to talk to 8 year olds about, but they're not really ready to internalize it just yet. i suppose we're just laying groundwork with the imagery. but at least they're ready to admit that their spelling sucks.

to do:

make bluegrass versions of favorite songs.

clean the floors.

make espresso with my new filter, having lost the old one mere months after getting the machine.

update my resume for the first time in a year and a half.

feel underwhelmed about said resume.

clean sweet gurgling gracie's fingerprints off the bathroom windows (after my sweet husband kept pointing out the "baby in the mirror" to her).

top my coworker joel's continuation of my duck joke... "a duck walks into a bar. you'd think he would have peopled."

get rid of winter feet.

call my newly twenty one year old BABY brother.

accompany 10 or so middle schoolers to the Museum of Tolerance.

prepare for the inevitable springtime ant invasion - maybe i'll learn a few new cuss words.

bake bread.

not think about multi-axis alignment and planarity for at least 48 hours.

taxes. damn.

duck
a group of ducks were walking through the forest, in a single file line. the first duck noticed a low branch ahead, so he turned around to warn the rest, yelling "PEOPLE!"

disappointment
i've fallen into a renewed sense of disappointment in the last few weeks. for the country, for the world, for my god, for myself and my loved ones. it's not so much that i'm disappointed in them - i carefully use the word for. i'm disappointed for god. i'm disappointed for me.

i'm one of the biggest advocates i know for the separation of church and state. but at the same time, my political, social, global, whatever beliefs are inevitably infused with my faith. in fact, my faith defines these things. respect for god's creation drives me to fight for two main things: for environmental protection of this fragile earth, our island home*, and for human rights, equality, and happiness for every single person.

when i feel drowned trying to wrap my brain around why i even care - why i can't just drive a hummer and eat steak and want tax cuts - it helps to take shade under the umbrella of higher purpose.

but i worry about what happens now. i feel like we, america, have wounded our world beyond repair. we've not-so-gradually driven people to hate us. i'm so torn saying this. as much as i'm not entirely part of this "we," i'm definitely disappointed in america the way i'd be disappointed in somebody close to me. it doesn't matter that this country doesn't recognize me as one of it's own - america still owns me. i am an american, and i am responsible.

back in late 2000, i had vowed to myself to be naturalized and a shiny happy U.S. citizen by the 2004 elections. on a hot spring day in early 2003, i drove up to meet my parents to drop off my completed N-400 form. i glanced over to my right to sort of process the major change i was about to make. peeking out from beneath the paperwork on the passenger seat were the words, "the costs and consequences of american empire," from the cover of Chalmers Johnson's "Blowback." i didn't know if i should laugh or cry or say bad words. i think i did all three. i turned the car around and told my parents that we should just wait until i get married, until i change my name. the truth is that i wasn't ready to sign that oath - to check that little box that said i'd bear arms for america. that thought made me not so much angry or annoyed, but sad. you know, someday i might be okay with bearing arms, but i doubt it. someday there might be something so right and worthy to really kill people for, but i doubt it.

and that day was certainly not last march. nor is it here now.

now, when i think about whatever that higher purpose is that drives me to make a difference, i feel like a disappointment. specifically due to what has happened and what is happening in iraq, i'm worred, angered, and sad. in a word, disappointed.

* the Episcopalian Book of Common Prayer (1979) Eucharistic Prayer C (Rite II).

minor musings

dear person who found my blog after googling "Rob Gordon Organic Farm," i love you. i'm sure you'll find plenty of autobiographically organized music and vegetable tidbits here. sincerely, julia.

i can't remember how i unearthed these, but this and this are two of my favorite posts of last year. i think they latter is a nice snapshot into who i was the week before the wedding. namely, neurotic. the first one just cracked me up. as long as i make myself laugh, right?

we now only have 1 female engineer in our company. of like, 500 employees. the second to last one left to do something hip and cool. of course she did.

last night, i learned about a woman called "emma." she's basically the matriarch of the entire bluegrass community in san diego. she plays the gutbucket, and has several (large) groups that meet at her house two+ nights a week called "emma's gutbucket band." she also has a room full of homemade pies out every time. when describing the gutbucket to us, our sweet church musician friend hank, pronounced "washer" as "warsher."

i was up until 11:30 last night trying to pick out a dentist. i have panic attacks when they clean my teeth. i'd say moreso than when they're actually drilling. i think they're less likely to slip while drilling, because they're concentrating more. however, when they do the cleaning, they aren't concentrating as much. they don't care! they could easily slip and rip through my sensitive gums with that pokey thing, rendering my teeth loose and giving me dentures before i'm 30. so, i needed to find a dentist who won't get pissed off and mean (like my last dentist) if i start shaking and crying and sweating even if they're only holding the mirror in my mouth. the result of my search? fruitless. well, fruitless if you have a DMO like me. apparently, sedation dentistry is a luxury.

i say, if you're really overwhelmed/annoyed with certain parts of your life, just let them go. it's not just an issue of wasting your time, because that's pretty selfish. if something completely drains you, disgusts you, worries you, haunts you, etc., take a look at the source and take a look at any solutions in your breadth of foresight. if nothing can be done, just let things unravel on their own. old friendships, jobs, painting the guestroom, social committments. however, this only applies to a certain degree. for example, don't just let go of husbands, children, or dentist visits.

for the record, BLACK JELLY BEANS ARE HEAVEN-SENT.

not amused
spiced jelly beans have got to be some kind of sick joke.

torn
erik and i had dinner with the amazing scott and sarah last night. they have got to be my favorite friends out of all the friends i've ever had. as soon as we sat down at the table, we started talking about simplifying our lives (again). we talk about this all the time. but this time around, we were very proactive about making our lives better.

scott and i are both on our church's "vestry" together. i've mentioned vestry before; it's a council/leadership body/board of directors sort of dealy. we were the ones who debated and debated and debated that whole cell tower brouhaha last year. (and this year, too.) two weeks ago, we all went up to the glorious mountains of Julian, CA for our vestry retreat. one of the first things we did was to take a Personal Values Inventory test. it basically helped you define how you handle situations a) when things are going well for you, and b) when things are NOT going well for you. you'd tally your results and graph a bunch of lines on a little triangular grid thing. ultimately, you'd come up with your baseline point (how you react to things when you're happy), and you'd connect that dot to your "how you react to things when you're not happy" dot. the triangle grid had three points: red, green, and blue.

my baseline was at the blue end of the blue-green area. blueness indicates you frequently consider the impact of your actions on other people. this can mean one of two things: that you're always looking out for the other guy, or that you're constantly concerned with what people will think of you. greenness indicates that you have an analytical nature. you're always wanting to gather facts and information, and you question everything until you know for sure what's going on. a blue-green person combines these two traits, and ultimately ends up being very equality-driven. sounds pretty accurate to me.

my "when things aren't going well for me" point was VERY green. when i'm upset, angered, or frustrated, i tend to step back and make sure everyone's being respectful and i have all the information about the decision or action that needs to take place.

i had one of the longest lines (connecting the happy point to the unhappy point) of the group, which meant i drastically change the way i react, depending on if i'm having a good day or not.

scott, interestingly, had the EXACT SAME LINE as me. this surprised us all. he's totally a results-oriented go-getter. it's sort of why he is called to have a great, successful business career, and i'm totally excited about the prospect of hanging out with campground guests in wyoming. the third zone of the triangle is the red zone. danger, danger, will robinson! a red person is all about results, and somewhat all about getting their way.

last night was a very red night for us. we sat down and made the following lists:

1. what are the two things about our lives that make us the happiest?
2. what are the two activities that we do that we enjoy the most?
3. what things get in the way of those things - the things and activities that make us the happiest?
4. seriously, what the heck do you mean by "we need to get stuff done?" what is this elusive "stuff," and why is it more important than sitting on the porch with friends on a sunny saturday afternoon?
5. what is it going to take to see more of each other but not get burnt out? (our answers to #1 were unanimously spending time with our spouses/baby, and spending quality time with our friends.)

i'm telling you, it was the red-est i've ever been.

each of us are really involved with church crap, to the point of being over-committed. it's at the point now that church is slightly more spiritually draining than it is uplifting. it's time to stop being so blue-green about making our lives simpler and better, and be red.

however, now that between the two of us, erik and i have applied for about a dozen jobs in various national parks and forests, i'm totally torn. i am so smitten with this sort of joint effort of our favorite friends and us to be even better friends, to help each other make our lives happier. and what? we're just going to run away from that?

i'm only goin' over home
sometimes i wonder if i would fit better in another era or another heritage. what would my life be like being an irish catholic at the turn of the century? what would it be like being a folk singer in the seventies? what if i had been a bluegrass fiddler in the southern mountains in the nineteenth century? what if i had been raised amish or shaker or hindu or buddhist? what about being an avon lady housewife in the 50s? (kidding).

i think that wherever we're from will always seem boring and baseline. anything outside of my experience, of my heritage -- of what i know -- is exotic, exciting, and beautiful.

someday, someone will read about someone like me and say, "man, it would have been so cool to be a pacifist transplanted into america as a girl at the turn of the [twenty-first] century back when you had to define 'blog' everytime you talked about it." but little will they know that i had to force myself to value my culture and my life as exotic, and that i spent my time wishing i wore period costumes when they weren't considered period and thinking about the life i didn't have. i spent my time wishing i were someone else.

turn, turn, we almost become dizzy.

my life is pretty damn cool. and i need to start treating it that way.

over the hills and far away
i'm out for the weekend. i'll be up in julian, ca again for a conference.
i'm thankful for time off work, for my boss telling me i'm one of the best writers her group has seen [small voice]but not giving me a raise. ugh.[/small voice], and for spending time in higher altitudes surrounded by black night skies, trees, more trees, wild daffodils, and god.

in other news, remember this post? well, it turns out it's a somewhat high up search result for "Marc Garlasco," and the only search result for '"Marc Garlasco" Frontline.' yesterday i get a blushing email from marc garlasco (!!) with a human rights watch email address (!!) saying that a friend sent him my blog, he ought to catch That 70s Show, and thank you. he used a little faux HTML tag in the subject line. so not only is he a really smart and really important former defense analyst who devoted his life to human rights, he also tugs at the heart strings with some CODING HUMOR. now i need to cultivate a witty and brief (read: unrambly) email back to My First Famous Person Email. i've been giddy since yesterday afternoon.

i ended up telling my coworker about this, only half realizing that i was giving him more than enough ammo to find me online. sure enough, he writes back to let me know that he now knows all my secrets, and oh, remember when my paper brutally wrapped your rock?

so hi joel, if you're reading this. also, hi marc garlasco, if you're reading this too.

career
today i have a review at work. it's been almost two years since i've worked here, and this will be my first review of any kind. good times. i need to come up with some concrete goals for my future performance here.

all i can think about, however, is a job opening for a private resort vendor at yellowstone that caught my eye. "Bus Washer." this would definitely be the cerebral downgrade i'm looking for. i could blast the radio and wait for the holy grail of car wash employees to come on... "workin' at the car wash, yeah..." i could go home tired and happy from a day of working hard out in the sun in a beautiful place. i would go from worrying about eye strain and carpal tunnel syndrome to worrying about sunburn and getting biodegradable bus soap in my eyes.

the best part is that i have three years of experience.

braided hair and red lipsticks are fun and all, but being a woman sometimes TOTALLY BLOWS.

a brief description of my yesterday, starting at 4pm: i had been feeling really ill since 2pm or so. i had spent the entire afternoon alternating between shivering and sweating and calculating how long it would take me to run to the bathroom to throw up if it got any worse. i was finally too weak to work so i decided to leave (i wasn't really thinking about how pushing the clutch pedal takes up more energy than moving a 8 ounce plastic computer mouse). i ended up pulling over somewhere near the 67 and sleeping in my car for AN HOUR AND A HALF.

might i add that i don't have air conditioning in my car. it was around 78° yesterday where i pulled over to rest, but i was shivering so i kept the windows up. shivering and dripping with sweat, of course.

i think i may have pinpointed the source of my "funk" from yesterday afternoon. take 8 years of having your body's hormonal balance completely hosed via oral contraceptives, then abruptly take that away. two weeks later, it's 8 years worth of cramps in ONE FUCKING AFTERNOON.

and no, we're not trying to have a baby. nor are we "not-trying-not-to" have a baby. we're still very much trying not to have a baby. wait, i'm lost.

it's the beginning of Bikini Wax Season.

erik called me at work yesterday to tell me he mailed in his transcripts and references for the yellowstone job. i know this part has nothing to do with the parts of womanness that "totally blow," but DUDE! HOLY SHIT! we might be moving to yellowstone national park. fucking A!

everytime i say "fucking A," i think of Office Space.

funk
i'm not sure what's going on with me. i'm in a huge funk right now. i don't feel like talking, or even internetting. i don't really feel like being alone, though. i just want to sit back and observe. but it's not a peaceful, calm sense of wanting to spectate - it's more of a lethargic, lonely sort of thing.

cabin fever
i think i've hinted enough that i'm not completely happy living in san diego. i can't pinpoint why, exactly. i just need to try somewhere else.

last week, erik applied for a job at yellowstone national park. this was a really easy decision to make. over kung pao soy chicken (a.k.a. fauxchen) and soy beef chow mein (feef), we just sort of speculated about the life we'd have, the un-permanence of the situation, and how beautiful that part of the country is. at one point, erik asked me, "what would you do if i got that job?"

i think that question was a little dumb, frankly. i didn't tell my sweet husband that. perhaps it should have been a "what would we do if i got that job?" question - as if there weren't any doubt that the wife wouldn't follow the husband to yellowstone. to the mammoth hot springs area of yellowstone national park, at that. i could work at the cute little cafe in gardiner, montana (the town around the famous yellowstone arches). or, like, get some sort of real job somewhere.

however, it's more-than-likely that this job won't work out. i'm trying not to get my hopes up, and i'm trying not to tell too many people. instead, i've just decided to tell the internet.

so, in the likely event that we won't be moving to northern wyoming or southern montana, i've picked out a few houses and hippie jobs in portland.

confession
last night, i was suddenly struck with a realization. and then with guilt.
i'd neglected to include a significant period of my musical history.

so, in the name of honesty, here it is.

the "let's just forget this ever happened" years: pre-pubescence
i may have accidentally liked New Kids on the Block, Kylie Minogue, and M.C. Hammer. and for NKOTB, by "accidentally liked," i mean "totally loved." my little 6th grade friends and i knew all the words and all the dance moves. we each had our favorite New Kid. EVERYONE used to do a macarena-type dance to Kylie's cover of "Locomotion" at school dances. it was as widespread as the electric slide.

i fully blame my dad's Cher collection.

a genesis of musical taste
my friend ariel was asking for mix-CD suggestions for someone "with no taste in music." she wanted to show her that music doesn't have to suck.

this got me thinking. after i fired off a bunch of Julia's Mix Staples, i realized that i didn't just magically start liking Radiohead. i couldn't have listened to Air or Cat Power 10 years ago and fully appreciated it. in fact, 12 year old julia might have used the word "hellish" to describe some of the stuff i listen to these days. the kinds of music i like today has been carefully and uncontrollably cultivated as i've grown up. i.e.:

the formative years: early childhood through adolescence
as a young girl, my music was inarguably inflicted upon me/shaped by daddy. his favorite bands (in this order) were: Fleetwood Mac, Queen, The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, Meatloaf, the Moody Blues, U2, and fucking Cher. i never really appreciated any of this, until later in life when i realized how good it all mostly was. although having a strong Cher foundation really comes in handy. everyone loves a girl who knows all the words to "If I Could Turn Back Time." of all my dad's music, possibly the most lasting and critical formative album for me was "Rumours" by Fleetwood Mac.

the early nineties: ninth and tenth grade
when i was 13 and 14, i rediscovered The Beatles, Pink Floyd, and Led Zeppelin. i'd say "Abbey Road" was the first to change what i expected from an album, and what i expected from a band. i went through a long phase of hoarding beatles tapes and records. my friends and i made each other mix tapes and compilations of all beatles songs. sophomore year of high school, i was sitting in the back seat of a turquoise VW bug with 4 other girls, hollering the words to "We Can Work it Out," (rather, "WE! CAN! WOHK! IT! OUT!") when we got into a little bit of a head-on collision. oops.

enter R.E.M.. "Automatic for the People" was my first real exposure to the fabulously vague genre of "alternative" music. i gave a presentation in my 10th grade honors humanities class on "Nightswimming" as a poem. i just remember not really being able to find the lyrics anywhere (damn REM and their enigmas!), so i had a few blank spots. (what kind of naive 14 year old can hear the phrase "pah??-eh?? for the moon" and understand that michael stipe was actually saying "pining"?) i also got docked for continuously tucking my hair behind my ears. the teacher, mrs. kinkaid, told me it was distracting and made me look nervous.

i made the early-nineties natural progression to Pearl Jam's "Ten" from "Automatic for the People". and the not-so-natural progression to Depeche Mode's "Songs of Faith and Devotion." i used to make my mother play this tape in the car constantly on our rides to and from school. she'd always jump and check the rearview mirror at the screaching tire sound intro to one of the songs.

the mid-nineties: tenth grade through sophomore year of college
a.k.a.: Julia Discovers Female Singers.
my high school sweetheart bought me Jewel's "Pieces of You." on a CD! a new era. jewel was still pretty much a local girl at that time, and she totally inspired me. i've since forsaken her, but i can't deny the effect she had on what i expected from music. i then migrated to Fiona Apple, and gradually, freshman year of college, i somehow discovered Joni Mitchell's "Blue." if someone asks me what my all-time favorite albums are, or my most inspirational albums, this is the first one i'll list. i'd say this CD changed my life. for a year or so, i lapped up everything i could by joni and james taylor and carole king and joan baez and bob dylan -- i had regressed. although, sixties and seventies folk music sounds different after a few years of alternative and grunge.

one crisp fall day in 1996, somebody played a tape of "Closer to Fine" by the indigo girls. i was a changed woman. i bought a copy of "Indigo Girls," their (obviously) eponymous release and tried to figure everything out on guitar. my retrospective insight for all my indigo girls albums now: i absolutely love all the songs i used to skip (*cough* amy ray songs *cough*), and all the songs i used to repeat seem just sort of ho-hum to me. music appreciation is totally an evolution.

the late-nineties: the end of college
three words: dave, beth, and ben. dave matthews band, beth orton, and ben harper pretty much defined my last few years of college. i really don't have much to say about dave matthews and ben harper, except that i effectively trained myself to appreciate their musical complexity and beautiful instrumentals. i used to skip the instrumental songs to get straight to the pretty vocals. i'd say learning to deal with the jambandesque live intros to my favorite DMB songs totally led to liking bands like Air and Tortoise.

and then there's beth orton. my "Central Reservation" CD, were it a tape, would have been completely worn out by the end of 1999. i'd say this really started my "if nobody else knows about it yet, that makes it so much better" motif. see also: Kings of Convenience, Mojave 3, and David Gray (until about October 1999). some would call this "musical snobbery." i'm okay with that.

post college: erik's music
i never really liked radiohead much until i met erik. from what i'd heard on the radio, thom yorke was a whiny schmo. then i listened to "OK Computer" in all of it's entirety. holy shit. i was hooked on some elusive concept of chill-out music. of music that just makes you feel high without ever really knowing what high actually feels like. of music that makes you close your eyes for a second and feel it pulse through your veins. and then you realize you're driving. radiohead ultimately led to finally liking techno and DJ sampling, and stuff like Bjork and Sigur Ros.

so there you have it. the definitive history of which albums happened to cross my path at which times to eventually lead to my self-designated kick-ass taste in music.

so ariel, if you're reading this, you might want to start with the basics before expecting your friend to fully enjoy something like "Friends of P."

(a-whoo-hoo-hoo).

the ides of march
it seems we skipped spring and went straight from "winter" to summer. [winter is in quotation marks because it's mostly a fake winter in southern california. it's an extended fall.]

just two nights ago, i slept in several layers of silk thermal underwear, with two comforters, a blanket, and a beanie. and it was only a few weeks ago that i had to use a hot water bottle, too. [just because i put "winter" in quotation marks doesn't mean i'm not a wuss.]

however, last night, it was time to break out the skimpy little pajamas. we kicked off most of the blankets and had the window wide open all night long.

i suddenly became very aware of my negelected toenails and other such unkempt things that don't usually bother me until at least june.

to top it off, i broke a sweat on my way to work.
fucking A, march.

she's bold!
today, i bought red lipstick.

this afternoon, we went to an amazing exhibit at the San Diego Museum of Photographic Arts. i can't remember the last time i went to MoPA. whenever it was, it was too long ago. i will write more on this later, but apart from the paris section (which was totally not healthy for my freshly discovered francophilic tendencies), it focused on very antique photographic media and techniques. and by media, i mean egg whites and gelatin. i had no idea!

anyway, today was an emboldening day. specifically due to a mid-twentieth century picture of a ruby-lipped, super short-banged woman sitting at a paris train station...

kiss kiss.

storytime
i want to hear about "the one that got away." or ones, as the case may be.
maybe you didn't really let them in in the first place. maybe you didn't even really know the person. maybe that person got away and came back.

there's something about the ghost of a romance that is always breathtaking, that will always make your heart skip a few beats every now and then when you look back on it.

even if that romance may have sucked had it actually happened.

ready, go. anonymous tales are totally welcome.

update
allow me to add to my list of future professions:

exit poll abolitionist.

a call to mediocrity
i'm increasingly realizing that i have a lot of wonderful, inspired goals in life, and that many of them aren't really shooting for the stars. they don't require the advanced degrees i'd always thought i'd want, and they certainly don't make the big bucks or bring much societal prestige.

for example, some things i want to do with my life:

be a back up singer

work at an indie coffee shop

work at an indie book store

work at a giant conglomerate book store, for that matter

help with wardrobe, hair, and makeup for undercover CIA operatives

be a personal shopper

be a stay-at-home wife

be an extra in television shows

work at a library

be a roadie

but, if they're what i want to do with my life, then they're nothing short of perfect.
coffee shop wages: $7 per hour. not being a technical writer: priceless.

silence means "sure, that's fine." right?
walking out of last night's fabulous rufus wainwright concert, our fourth in as many years:

julia: "i think if rufus ever wanted to make out with me, you should let me."
erik: [silence].