kitchen synch

black joo joo

2011-08-06T19:55:00.000-07:00

okay okay okay okay.

title inspired by one of my favorite alice cooper tunes.

oh hey guys

2011-07-29T15:55:00.001-07:00

i took an accidental blogging break. things have been busy.

i had a visitor for a week and then i just had a week of catching up on stuff in my life. i'm still working on that last part.

i started running again and this time it's for real.

i've been having lots of intense dreams. i'd say about 90% of them involve a funeral or death in some way. recent epic dreams include one about massive amounts of cocaine and shawn o'donnell and one about evil ex-boyfriend moving in on the same block as the cafe. also going to a carnival with oliver.

last night there was a big thunderstorm and it woke me up and confused me greatly. i jumped out of bed, thinking it was time to go to work, but it was only 1 am. i slept for 6 more hours after that. lap of luxury!

i've found inspiration again, somehow. i started writing a short story that i sort of like the other day. and i drew a picture over the last two days that i like and it makes me smile. also, i picked a name for that writing stuff blog i told you about. maybe i'll do an inaugural post tonight. first i have to cook and eat dinner. i bought a bunch of groceries last night and some weird-looking noodles today. i'll post a picture if it turns out pretty!

what are you having for dinner?

snooze

2011-07-16T17:00:00.000-07:00

walking home from staying out way too late last night, i encountered a dead raccoon on the sidewalk. naturally, i took a photo.

it was so peaceful and sweet, laying there.

recently, while i was walking to work between 5:45 am and 6 am, i encountered a sleeping heap of a man on the sidewalk. i paused next to him to look for some abdomen movement to indicate breathing. i saw it, and resumed breathing myself. i kept walking and turned the corner toward the cafe.

i felt only a little pity for him, mostly i was amused. i imagined him waking up as denizens of that block of Winthrop Avenue began making their way toward the train to go to work. he'd be confused, hot, probably with a sore neck (he was literally in a heap, back against a building, one shoulder on the sidewalk and the other about a foot higher than his head). i hoped no one would hassle him. hoped no one had gone through his belongings while he was passed out.

what's the weirdest place you've woken up?

writefail

2011-07-15T16:10:00.000-07:00

i told myself i'd blog something every day from here on out and i failed after day two.

the idea was that blogging would hold me accountable, even though i could easily cheat and change the post date so that it looked like i had blogged daily, even if i wrote three posts in one day. i'm not in the business of cheating myself or the two (i'm being hopeful) people who look at this thing without a prompt from facebook.

i did write on the third day, but it was nothing worth posting. and i didn't write on the fourth day. now i'm blogging on the fifth day and this, too, is barely worth posting.

my dinner party project was a similar endeavor. since it's hard for me to complete narrative projects, i thought that writing a story in serial posts might encourage me. and my adoring (and adored) family read the two segments i posted. but then i just stopped working on it. maybe i'll pick it back up. i don't know.

the idea is that if you write every day, even if it's garbage, it's better than not writing. and you can get the garbage out of the way for the brilliance to spill forth. this advice has been given to me by many awesome people: my former shrink, my current writing teacher, my current beau, probably a few other people. i think oliver and i have spoken about it. he's pretty awesome.

i wanted to start a blog dedicated to writing and writing exercises, but i couldn't think of a good name, so i still haven't set it up. one of these days. having a space dedicated to non-personal writing seems like a good way to get myself away from only writing semi- or fully-autobiographical pieces. right?

a bit of a test to see who does, in fact, look at this thing without being directed via facebook: what creative endeavor do you enjoy? do you practice daily, even if you feel devoid of inspiration? let's get to making things, people! it just feels good! even if it's sooooo bad!

where do you find inspiration? if you do practice your craft daily, despite lack of muse, what gets you going? tell me! i'm watching you!!

constant craving

2011-07-12T20:59:00.000-07:00

i cuffed the bottom of my jeans today, and flashed back to jen teaching jeff how to peg-roll his jeans on the first of school. maybe it was his first day of high school. maybe it was september of 1989, i can't be sure. maybe it was a few days before school started. i don't know. i do know that i watched carefully and silently. i didn't want anyone to have to teach me on my first day of high school. i wanted to be a natural peg-roller.

though, by the time i entered high school, i was ordering jeans from the Alloy catalog. i wanted the widest flares they had. they were kind of like bell bottoms, but tighter in the thighs than those from the sixties.

i also recall watching jen apply her eye makeup. she wore pink eye shadow on her brow bone and blue on the lids. i used to put the same makeup on the barbies in my coloring books with crayolas. again, practicing so i'd get it right when i was a teenager. regrettably, my teenage years saw more than enough blue eye shadow. i kept away from the pink, though, replacing it with glitter. so much glitter.

some things don't change.

this is what happened

2011-07-11T20:09:00.000-07:00

in city summertime, when your window is open and the ceiling fan is rattling at full hilt, sometimes it's hard to tell whether or not it's raining outside. i can hear some tinkling, but maybe it's just the neighbors' window air conditioning unit. or maybe it's rain. it was humid today. it's so hard to tell. it's always hot in this apartment. sometimes the wooden floors seem to sweat.

on a day like today it's hard to think of something to do. i'd like very much to just go to sleep until it's time to go to work tomorrow. i had my first day off in nearly two weeks today and couldn't think of a thing to do. slept 'til a bit past noon and got up to cook some eggs for my boyfriend and i. then we walked to the park to draw pictures and read a book and then we walked back to his home when that had run its course. we watched a japanese art film, all the while knowing he'd rather be downstairs at work on his computer. as soon as the movie was over, he was scooting my bottom out the door and onto the porch.

i was left to entertain myself. i was hungry, so i ate. then cleaned up my room. stepped out to pick up a pint of ice cream. i ran into an acquaintance at the market and struggled with ending the conversation. then i came home and did some reading, ate some raspberries.

i hear a cat in heat out there now, and it sounds like a siren. like a problem, an emergency. i guess, in a way, it is. momma kitty needs some lovin'. it sounds like a plea, begging. the longer i listen, i think maybe it's just the baby next door. it's so hard to tell.

picture book

2011-06-14T20:03:00.000-07:00

here are some photos i took on my phone in the last handful of months. maybe you'll like them!

awwww ...

this autographed photo of loretta lynn was found in the home of the old people with old objects in waldo, ar.

kitty!!!

wally and i went to a neat flower shop with a creepy doll corner one day. i bought some succulents there and dreamt of the day i own a ramshackle home where i can become a hoarder of plants and love and old things.

nathan's last neighborhood pecan waffle. he's gone now.

my handsome boyfriend!

i did that. kate sosin is street tough. sea tough?

i drew this worm guy. he looks different now. i put ink on him, as well.

even brian's nostrils get red-eye!

that bored girl was not part of our party. the skeptical hat-wearing guy was.
oliver is a man of 17 faces.

just a little portion of a huge, intricate piece of art hanging at the cafe.
it's an ode to percival lowell!

stu and i went to michigan last weekend and found a turtle in the road. he wanted to bring it home to his mom, but we lost the little cutie before that could happen. here he is. if you spot him, please call us.

dream people

2011-06-08T19:47:00.000-07:00

if you're having trouble sleeping, a fun thing to do is create people. just make them up in your head and look at them.

sometimes you can just make one person and really get it right: from cells to muscles to organs to skeleton to skin to hair to bad clothing. and sometimes you might create a mass of humans, anxiety-inducing and undulating enthusiastically to boring music. sometimes it's just a group of friends that look like they should be enemies but they have this secret bond holding them like tinker toys, and only you can see the rods between because you put them there.

put your people in situations and see what happens. make them ugly or cute or stupid or troubled or swimming through tranquil oceans. make them dance and jerk in the city street and imagine that one of those rascals opened the cap on the fire hydrant. imagine an infernal july sun and a heavy-set, pasty female with just a little tuft of foot-long blonde hair poking from atop a meticulously shaved cranium. imagine she is dancing alone, while her friends look away. she has sort of bulging fish eyes and her nose is so small and so round. her lips unbelievably pink, like two naked crayons. imagine she is wearing a tank top and you can see her armpit hairs and they are coarser and darker than that floppy tuft.

when you wake up and it's later in the day and you don't want to sleep, get a notebook. remember those people you made up and draw them. bring them closer to you. to us.

it's less lonely now, right?

e.l.g. = t.l.a.

2011-05-16T15:16:00.000-07:00

i've been having really vivid, mostly stressful dreams lately. but the one i think about almost everyday, despite it being months old, is this:

jeff and i are having some sort of text-based conversation (either e-mail or g-chatting) and he breaks it to me that everyone thinks i'm a nyrd (sic). he concedes that he is a nerd, but whatever. nerds aren't so bad. it's the nyrds that everyone hates.

this isn't a tough one to interpret: it is a blatant manifestation of my anxiety and self-doubt, even doubt of those i know i have solid relationships with.

mostly, i'm proud of inventing the word "nyrd". i pronounce it "nee-urd" in my brain.

the other night i had some solid SATC-esque time with eric, and discussed said self-doubt. then he told me to have faith, the opposite of doubt. at that moment, i did. it was easy. eric is awesome. ever since that conversation, my outlook on myself and my relationships with others has improved a billionfold.

i know it's kind of silly to deem that conversation an epiphany, but it was sort of a revolutionary moment for my psyche. when you're stuck in cycles of negative thoughts about yourself, hope is a distant object. having a trusted friend hand it to you in a crumpled paper napkin makes it comfortable and convenient. earlier that day, i had been lurking on a stranger's blog and relating to her posts about self-doubt; they reinforced my own. eric countered this at just the right moment and i haven't let go of his words yet.

so let this blogpost serve as inspiration and reassurance to all of you people out there: even if you are a nyrd, the people that love you will continue to love you unless you become a bad person (a nird?).

this is eric, ever the voice of reason and moderation:

dinner party, part II

2011-05-12T07:43:00.001-07:00

here is the second installment of a short story i'm working on! click here to read the first installment! check back soon for more!

I dressed and painted myself with hours to spare. Staring at my reflection, with middle-of-Saturday sunlight forcing its way through scratched 1910's glass, I saw myself as a child. Playing dress-up in Mom's castaways. Nose nearly pressed to the bathroom mirror as I pulled down on the skin covering my right orbital cavity, I traced my lower lashes in kohl. I pulled back and gazed into my eyes. Again, a child: shame-stained cheeks, hoping Mom wouldn't notice I was splashing around in her old make-up.

Nervous and already ready already, I stood on my toilet and hung my head and arms out the window, smoking a cigarette. The whole scene felt pretty tawdry: me in my black dress and imperfect panty hose, naked lips and nighttime eyes in the middle of the day, costume jewelry and a lazy updo. Standing shoeless on my toilet, puffing nervously out the window, I quickly became light-headed and remembered how I'd rarely ever made it to the filter. I stepped carefully from my perch, extinguished the cherry in the sink and blew out my candle.

Then, heart racing, I commenced pacing and debating and self-doubting.

Should I get there early? Empty-handed, I could give the gift of last-minute help. Of course, this could also be the ultimate faux-pas, the perfect way to ruin the night. Should I get there promptly, as indicated on the invitation? Would I seem too eager? Too desperate? Out of it? Or should I stumble in a bit late? Just late enough to have them on edge that I might not show, then really make an entrance. Apologize, blame it on a chuck-full social calendar. Take a few nips from my flask while approaching their home and tell my hosts I've just left a benefit?

Jesus. Who did I think I was? Would anyone notice my absence if I decided to catch Jay's friend's band's show at whatever dive they were playing that night?

In this solitary struggle, and with no haute friends to consult, I lost track of time and nearly forgot my shawl as I tumbled out the door and into that of a fateful cab stopped at a red light in front of my building.

I arrived eleven minutes late. This was not my intention, but I had spent an hour and forty-one minutes pacing my apartment, deliberating the perfect time to show myself. Which brings me here, throwing a twenty at the cab driver and flinging myself from his backseat to the sidewalk before my hosts' high-rise.

"Hey, it's you!" A voice directed at me. I pulled my eyes from my toes to the cracked sidewalk to brown leather toes and up grey flannel legs to a smiling, smoke-exhaling face. A familiar face. Erik! Oh me, was I happy to know another guest!

"Ugh, am I late?" I pushed some hair out of my face, pulled another section into my face. I didn't even know what I was trying to look like anymore. I was just trying to look in one piece, I suppose.

"Only as late as I am. Shall we?" Erik offered his arm and I gladly latched on. He looked good, in a snug-fitting navy vest with matching buttons and a white button-up shirt with almost invisible pinstripes. Judging by his attire, I was neither under- nor over-dressed. I exhaled, walked forward.

He buzzed up and we rode the elevator to the 20th floor. Erik knocked, the door opened, and we relinquished obligatory hugs to our hosts. Entering the condo, I spied a room full of men, each handling a short glass of brown liquid. I did nothing to discourage the grin I felt creeping up on me.

dinner party, part I

2011-05-03T21:54:00.000-07:00

here is the first installment of a short story i'm working on! check back soon for more!

There was a dinner party and I was invited.

I didn't have a date. I didn't have a gift. I didn't have a clue what goes on at a dinner party beyond, you know, dinner.

I had a little black dress and a strand of granny's pearls. They weren't real; that old hag was poor as they come, a waitress at Woolworth's. Her husband drank her paltry wages before a rainy day cent could sneak beneath the mattress. Most jewelry inherited from her came from a catalog or a door-to-door saleslady. But a few prized pieces, I liked to imagine, were pocketed on the sly at work.

I had pantyhose with a small -- hopefully imperceptible -- run, long ago patched with clear nail lacquer. Purchased a day before my last job interview, over two years ago, they were snagged about a minute after I rolled them up my legs.

I had a few pieces of makeup, and the application skill-set that blighted me in junior high. I had a homemade haircut and limp, tired tresses.

I had a three-month-old, mostly full pack of cigarettes in the freezer just waiting for a near-panic attack to flash its teeth in my direction.

I didn't know the hosts very well; considered them little more than acquaintances, friends of friends of friends. I always felt plain, uncultured and more or less schlubby around them. They seemed to stand so tall and sure, while I slouched, scratching my head.

They attached a personal note to the invitation (in perfect caligraphy, no less!):

We hope you'll grace us. There's someone who's dying to meet you.
Truly,
D & W

The whole thing was at once romantic and ridiculous. The invitation (sent United States Postal Service) was printed on the thickest cardstock I've ever held, with embossed crimson text. The watermark was eerie; a vuvlar lotus bloom before a crossed fork and steak knife, like some hungry-yet-pacific Jolly Roger.

road rash

2011-05-01T08:17:00.000-07:00

i just got back from a boot-kickin', storm chasin', cheeseburger-eatin' road trip to our nation's glorious south. check it out!!

(photos courtesy stu marsh)

my guy stu and i:

stimulated the oil trade;

pulled over to look at golf ball-sized hail;

didn't see the alamo;

stayed with jeremiah at his mattress-factory-loft,
which was around the corner from this gem;

visited the legendary robert lovelett,
who gave stu a lovely drawing before inserting contact lenses;

had the best day of our lives;

ate breakfast at Whataburger (with the blues brothers);

had to look at antiques in a house in waldo, arkansas;

got to check out a bunch of awesome old cars
and rusting tools and parts in the yard of the house;

searched for tornadoes!;

found lots of lightning!;

also found true love, the only love that matters;

and a bunch of bison;

and stopped by the post office in gary, indiana.

a lot of writing and drawing and reading and driving and other stuff happened, too. it was fun.

what now?

2011-04-04T21:41:00.000-07:00

one of the scarier moments of my urban existence is traversing a broken escalator. it's an irrational fear, i know, but i can't help fantasizing the mechanism waking up mid-stride. contrarily, i somehow can't resist taking a chance and choosing it over a safe, static staircase.

hiking has been on my mind lately. there is a healthy, inherent fear i hold while hiking. one misstep and i'm pinballing amongst trees and crags and snakes! but there is also a healthy, inherent confidence necessary for enjoying a good hike. knowing that each step made will be the right one; that thousands of sure feet have safely passed the path mine find.

i can recall being afraid of escalators as a kid. i was afraid of a lot of weird stuff then. i envisioned the escalator steps eating me. it's something about the grooves and how perfectly the steps fit together and flatten out and grow and move and then flatten out again. i feel a tinge of this fear whenever i climb a broken escalator. i try to keep my cool, but inside i'm reaching for mom's hand.

technology is scary sometimes.

perpetuity

2011-03-31T13:04:00.000-07:00

hey look.

this was drawn for me. just because!

attack of the empowered female

2011-03-02T17:42:00.000-08:00

there's been some chatter lately about this new breed of young-adult men (males in my age-bracket: mid-20s to early-30s) we've got on our hands, and it's driving me mad! the argument is something along the lines of: today's young adult male is stuck in a boob-obsessed, video game-playing adolescence while today's young adult female brings home apple-smoked bacon after smashing crazy-high glass ceilings.

give me a break, people. adolescence was a marketing creation. prolonged adolescence is the same. i don't believe it is a gendered phenomenon. why not?

BOYS AREN'T THAT DIFFERENT THAN GIRLS. we all want to live a prolonged adolescence. we all like sex and beer. we're all scarred by our childhoods. in the same vein, we're all unique. we're all individuals. some of us are more motivated than others. some of us are more creative than others. some of us soar and some of us flounder. some of us are the result of feminism (/misogyny/homophobia) and feel an intense need to show that we're just as good as (maybe even better than) our supposed superiors.

so why all this talk about the rise of young women and the stagnation of young men? are we worried that men might not be in control in 30 years? does it really matter what's between our legs? is there nothing else socially important going on in middle-class america right now?

women still earn less than men. these articles note that women in my age-bracket are out-earning and out-acheiving (academically) men in the same age-bracket. who cares? on the whole, females are still getting the shaft (see what i did there??).

the implied "problem" these articles hint at is: we're all waiting too long to get married. and once we do get married (because we're all heterosexual, of course), if the woman outearns the man, how will that affect the relationship?

as a chronically single person who loves first dates but has trouble with the idea of incorporating a new person with her beautiful and perfect (predominantly male) friends, this all annoys me. i'm not always so sure i want a boyfriend, but i feel a great amount of social pressure to find one, nonetheless. and if it happens, i don't care what his occupation is (or isn't, given the current job market).

as an over-ambitious young woman, i resent all of this bullshit. i wish i didn't downplay my strengths. i wish i didn't feel the need to tackle grad school and entrepreneurship simultaneously. i wish i didn't have a heavy grey cloud of guilt following me around in anticipation of my future break from grad school. i wish i was accepted as jeff's equal by our landlord and other people we encounter as a business. i wish the bulk of my therapy sessions didn't center on me working through my fear of eternal spinsterdom.

ultimately, i wish it didn't come down to boys versus girls.

i'm not immune from this line of thought. i totally favor men. just look at my friends -- pretty much all dudes. i think it's because women have so much baggage, and i can hardly carry my own. but it isn't our fault! it's society, dudes! let's all get over it and get along and stop breaking everything down as his and hers.

it's 2011. that is crazy. let's do something futuristic and drop our hang-ups. when you make a big deal about this stuff, it becomes a big deal. let's just be friends!!!

me 'n my domestic partners, just another night at home:

"kewpie dolls and urine stalls will be laughed at the way you're laughed at now." crossing my fingers:

je bande

2011-01-27T18:29:00.001-08:00

i had really awesome synchronicity today. synchronicity that made me feel powerful and slightly creepy.

remember a while ago i transcribed some journal scrawlings of a mostly truthful fantasy about a handsome stranger? i actually truncated the real story, but it was for the best. anyway, today i was returning to the cafe from depositing so much money at the bank and i was fantasizing an encounter with michael, the handsome stranger. i was preparing myself to ask him his name the next time i saw him. (pro tip: if you are a customer at my shop and you are hot and i ask you your name, that means i am hitting on you. i have no game.)

anyway, here's the little fantasy. i'm sure you see where this is going.

me: what's your name?
him: i'm michael.
me: get outta here! really?
him: yeah, why? (he's giggling with his perfectly soft voice)
me: well, i like looking at you. you have good style. one time, after you left, my friend and i made up a name for you and that name is michael.

ally and michael ride off into the sunset astride color-changing unicorns to paint each other's toenails on the dark side of the moon.

so, i'm walking down berwyn avenue and i see my buddy eric smoking a cigarette and i realize i'm smiling like a fool, lost in my fantasy. it's cold and i have a lot of money in my pocket so i scurry back indoors, rather than stand outside with him. as i am hanging my coat, the door opens. i turn to look and guess who it is?

yes. MICHAEL.

"okay," i told myself, "this is it. this is your time to shine." with two dear friends sitting front-row, i rang michael up and asked him his name. it was awkward and clumsy and his name is not michael. i won't tell you his actual name, but know that it is the name of an angel (i'm not sure if that's true, but it is biblical) and it is not a disappointing name.

anyway, brian and kate didn't realize i was hitting on michael. i'm sure michael didn't realize i was hitting on him. that's not important anyway. i wouldn't want to actualize my fantasy.

the point is, i summoned him and he heeded the call. modern lust.

ladies

2011-01-18T22:23:00.000-08:00

amiright?

look!

2011-01-05T21:13:00.001-08:00

this pretty much sums up my current frame of mind:

in a positive way! letting stuff go in the 2K11!

i'm free!

big thanks to a jezebel commenter for the julie andrews image!

new year, new blog

2011-01-02T05:53:00.000-08:00

happy new year, dudes. whatever that means.

i was totally scrooging this year and anti-holiday. mostly because i was in chicago for the entirety of the holiday season and knew i'd not get to see my family at all. but guess what? i had a really awesome holiday season! i have really awesome friends! i love them! livin' and lovin' in the 2K11!

i've given a lot of thought to holidays and consumerism and tradition and social pressure and authentic gestures in the last two months. i'm not sure if i've come to any solid conclusion about any of it, though. except one thing, maybe: f*ck gifts. i like getting 'em, sure. and it's fun to give them. but i hatehatehatehate the obligation. i hate receiving a gift that someone felt obligated to give and i hate giving a gift that i feel obligated to give. i don't think there's an easy answer to it because we're all bound up so tightly with our traditions and our nostalgia and our penchant for purchasing.

anyway, that's a tangent i'm not really prepared to continue down so publicly. buy me a beer and we'll talk, if you're interested in hearing more*. down to the nitty-gritty now: resolutions!

new year's resolutions are ultimately stupid, but there's no harm in making them, right? and trying to remember them in july. that's the most important part.

mine:

- don't fear happiness (or the reaper).

- complete projects, big and small.

- write everyday. this is my resolution every year, but this year it's gonna happen!

- listen to more prog rock. it makes me feel so good!

what are yours? tell me! tell the internet! commit, y'all!

*edit: gifts of beer are perfectly acceptable and should never be obligatory. amb

night cheese

2010-12-26T21:14:00.000-08:00

growing up is so weird. sometimes i just want to be done with it, you know? it's like, one day i'll think about the day before and realize how immature and short-sighted i had been. and i'll feel so grown up and like i really get it.

and then i wake up the next day and feel like i had been such a little kid the day before and now on this day i really do get it.

and so on, ad nauseam. when's it all gonna end? i'm enjoying my 20s, i think. but i know my 30s are going to be way better. so can i fast forward or something?

i certainly won't be writing blog posts like this when i'm in my 30s. though i do fear my 30s will continue to be like my 20s in certain aspects, like this:

swallow hard

2010-12-22T19:41:00.000-08:00

this just happened. the moon looks sorta full tonight, but i bet it isn't really full for another day or so. i wish i got my period the exact second that wine spilled and that the moon was full.

i guess there's always tomorrow!

ultimate workout song of the week:

the irony of working out to riot grl tunes is not beyond me, don't worry.

hot news

2010-10-11T18:53:00.000-07:00

i had an epiphany this evening. the avocado has edged out the apple as my favorite fruit.

who's with me?

this post was brought to you in the style of bob carlton.

wanna smooch agent dale cooper!

2010-10-04T23:29:00.000-07:00

we're re-watching twin peaks here at 911 west ainslie street.

i love me some log lady introductions. tonight's seemed apropos of all the crazy dreaming i've been doing.

like a picture of a sunny day

2010-10-01T21:21:00.001-07:00

what do you collect?

i collect rocks and sea shells from places i visit. check it out (not the entire collection):

i also collect found religious propaganda. look:

also, if you send me things in the mail, chances are the prettiest parts of them will end up on the same bulletin board as missives from the L*rd.

i collect hugs, too.

i want to know about your collections. send me photos! tell me stories!

completely unrelated, but listen to this song. brother paul and i will be recording a cover next week!

keep your germs, dude

2010-09-22T21:17:00.000-07:00

ok, this has been bugging me for a while, so i'm interested to get a real-deal internet conversation going about it.

sneezes. responses to sneezes. can we agree to just not respond when someone squirts their germs all over the place? please? or can we at least agree to leave "god" and "blessing" out of the equation? and german, for that matter?

earlier this week, a friend was sneezing in the midst of a conversation i had with him, and i didn't say anything in response to these sneezes, even though they awkwardly interrupted the stream of bullshit i was spewing into his poor lil' ear canals. so i asked him if he thinks it's rude that i don't conform to the social norm of blessing fellow man post-sneezage. he's on my side, as i'd figured he would be.

a few months back, after spending days with a sneezy person and never saying anything, i blurted out, "i don't say 'god bless you' after people sneeze. i hope it doesn't seem rude." he said it does but i still haven't figured out if he really thinks it seems rude or if he was yanking my chain.

either way, i have many reasons to not want to say stuff after someone else sneezes:

i ain't believe in your god that i'm asking to bless your little nose-tickle. sorry.
all of the weird speculated origins of the tradition of saying "god bless you" are so antiquated to be rendered irrelevant today.
you're the one sending germs and spit and snot and mucus hurtling through the air! shouldn't you say "excuse me" or "i'm sorry" or "gross!!!" or something???

well, that's about all i've got. i'm interested to hear what my readers think about this whole ordeal.

omnipresent

2010-09-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

giant leaps backward

2010-09-02T21:09:00.000-07:00

maybe i'm a bit more free-wheelin' than the average american young lady, but i am almost 100% sure that i haven't shaved my legs more than once in the same week at all in 2010. not a single man who has touched these luscious gams has complained (okay, so the sample size is small ...).

i'm not going to get too in-depth about my grooming habits, but that should give you an idea of where i'm coming from.

my friend recently posted a link on facebook to an article about "virgin bikini waxing". that is waxing pre-pubescent pubic hair from little girls.

i'll let you digest that for a moment.

do i really need to go on and on about how disgusting and, pardon my french, F*CKED that is? honestly, i think it's really weird that grown women get brazilian waxes or shave their pubes off completely. if i learned anything the first time i saw "The Vagina Monologues" (as a virgin), it is that pubic hair is there for a reason. and it really isn't so ugly, if you ask me. it is mature. and post-pubescent. that is sexy.

again, i'm a bit more free-wheelin' about these things. ladies, if you feel good looking like you've not gone through puberty from the waist down, that's your thing. i fear you might be doing it to please a man, which is troubling, but as an adult you can make that decision for yourself. dudes, if you think this is hot, i think you're a little weird and hope you never see my genitals (and vice versa). but really, bringing your daughter in to have three sprigs of pubic hair yanked from such a tender region? i don't even know where to begin with the bad messages being sent to these little girls. they are doomed to swim the choppy waters of body image issues and self-loathing for a good chunk of their lives.

THIS, people, is why we all just need to quit reproducing for a while.

post-script: can anyone enlighten me if lesbians (real lesbians, not porn lesbians) are into the "shaved" look? i'm curious. personally, i like a little human fur.

spending my savings

2010-08-28T23:07:00.001-07:00

"you're on your way," said jeff fox*.

*jeff fox's gazpacho was named a "must-try" by the chicago tribune, in case you haven't seen.

appreciation

2010-08-10T21:44:00.000-07:00

Inside the writer's studio:

Michael was a mod. If I was writing in the ‘60s, this would mean something different. That’s not to say he wasn’t that kind of mod. He was. He just stuck out a bit as such in 2010.

If you’re like me, the very mention that a man is a mod sends brief tingles to your nether regions. If you’re not like me, I’ll try to explain myself.

Lewis and I named him Michael; we don’t know his real name. We barely knew him at all, to be truthful. His musical preferences seemed to betray his appearance. Our first friendly interaction surrounded his complimenting my ‘90s-math-rock T-shirt. Behind those horn rimmed glasses, beneath the perfectly straight bangs, buried below the well-groomed moustache, his face smiled at me. His voice was soft and cherubic (well, the way I’d imagine a cherub might speak). His sexuality was ambiguous. So perfect.

Lewis met him a few weeks later and felt the electricity. I told Lewis of my fantasy. That’s when we named him Michael. He despised being called Mike.

My fantasy is him in his dark, labyrinthine apartment. Mahogany all over the place. Dim lights. Candles. Incense. Books. Records. He sips cognac from a snifter and has a respectable, though constrained, collection of single malts. He smokes (a pipe or a cigarette, I haven’t quite decided) and wears a short silk paisley-printed robe, chest hair the same strawberry blonde as his perfect bob haircut. If the wind catches him in a moment of urgency, you might get a peek at his you-know-what.

Lewis fantasized him painting my nails. I said toenails and jumped on board.

Do you get it? The man wore bangs and a smart corduroy jacket in Chicago’s August heat. He was kind to the pourer of his coffee and looked like he was better suited for 1964. Despite this, he dug Polvo. Dude was groovy as all get-out.

penpals for a greater america

2010-08-08T01:11:00.001-07:00

has anybody noticed i haven't blogged in over 2 weeks?

i have just returned from an adventure across america! behold, a brief overview:

cory came to chicago! we partied! yeah!

then we visited his folks in rockford, IL. sadly, i took no photos there, but had a lovely time. his mom has a perfect little dog named chloe.

we went to badlands national park (SD) first! it was majestic and breathtaking. there was pure silence and lots of grasshoppers.

we found fossils!! we freestyle hiked to this crazy little grassy cliff to watch the sun set and realized there was an entire fossilized skeleton in the rock we were perched upon. we filled out a form to report it to the park archaeologists and by the time we hit san francisco learned they couldn't find the fossils. i think they just weren't extreme enough to make it to where we were.

half of the badlands is on a reservation. we cruised through the bustling downtown Scenic, SD. we weren't in the mood for beers just yet, though.

we really wanted to see bison. no luck in the badlands. driving through custer state park (SD), however, we found 'em!

i turned a corner and stopped cory in his conversational tracks. for about 2 miles, we saw about 150 bison. babies, mommas, poppas -- the whole gang!

it was right about when i took this photo that a man in a bison farm truck drove past and reassured us we were not being too smart having gotten out of the truck.

so we kept on cruisin' to yellowstone national park (WY).

yellowstone is massive (2.2 million acres!) and gorgeous and teeming with wildlife!

wyoming is beautiful and perfect. somehow i hardly took any scenic photos on the drive through, probably because i was driving a lot. just take my word for it.

idaho ... funny little state. the stretches of nothingness were beautiful. the towns were depressing. though, i did meet a middle-aged juggalette and did an informal interview. so, my juggalo project has begun!

we powered through nevada (least favorite state), escaping death and bigots and terror, and made it to yosemite national park (CA) in less than 24 hours. we set up camp next to The Greatest Family in America and rocked to their tunes while setting up the tent and scribbling our thoughts. stay tuned for a cross-country collaboration on a cover of billy currington's "god is great, beer is good, people are crazy".

cory heard bears bangin' around neighboring campsites one night while we were there, but i managed to fool myself into thinking it was large men snoring. what a freak.

final meal of the adventure! salad and asparagus and crusty bread and steak and beer! we ate our dessert for breakfast the next day.

whee! i'm free!! fairies are my friends! i love america!

we were welcomed with open arms by a cozy little beach-side apartment in san francisco. homemade pizza, a great record collection, and super sweet roommates ensured a lovely time at cory's home. he even lives with a cat!

all in all, a great time. so nice to see hills and mountains and grass and trees and animals and people who talk differently than me and people who think differently than me and we did so much more than could fit into one little blog post.

more photos coming soon to a facebook near you.

hot legs

2010-07-12T21:44:00.000-07:00

if i can actually see my intentions through to the end, i have a new video project in the works!

here is installment numero uno:

a little backstory:

todd is a regular customer at the cafe. he has been for a long time. he comes in, orders "a small house coffee", sometimes makes small talk with the barista, then makes himself comfortable at a table. he listens to a portable CD player and reads something Bibley. he has a tattoo on his arm that says GOD and he goes outside often to smoke cigarettes. he has subtle-yet-flashy style -- he's big on accessories. this is all we knew about him for a long time.

then the art started appearing. todd would, without a word, hang a piece or two every couple days. sometimes on the bulletin board often used to promote plays, concerts and music lessons. then he started hanging his xeroxed collages in the bathroom. we all went wild over them!

i approached him and told him how much we were all enjoying his secret art and then it really started to pour in.

anyway, that's the background. enjoy. he's great. he's agreed to let me make a series of videos featuring him.

find a way

2010-07-07T23:21:00.000-07:00

i used to do this thing in high school. i had a notebook (in the end there were a few) with my favorite quotes encountered in books and song lyrics.

i remember the quote that started it all belonged to jack kerouac from "the dharma bums" and it was about not letting things that are out of your control get to you.

here are some from a book i just finished reading, "geek love" by katherine dunn:

I like Miss Lick. Arty always said that was important.
"Find a way to like them," he said. "Like them every minute that you're with them. If you can like them they'll be helpless against you."

*****

"I get glimpses of the horror of normalcy. Each of these innocents on the street is engulfed by a terror of their own ordinariness. They would do anything to be unique."

*****

What's the point of being loved in return, I'd ask myself. To warm my spine in the dark? To change the face in my mirror every morning? It was none of Arty's business that I loved him. It was my secret ace, like a bluebird tattooed under pubic hair or a ruby tucked up my ass.

lots of things are inspiring me lately, and dunn's way of weaving words is just a small part of it. anyone else love this book? have another favorite quote? does the mention of a bluebird also instantly cue this song in your brain?

so much for early sleep

2010-07-07T21:46:00.000-07:00

i think i'm fairly funny (for a girl). i also think i have a tendency to over-think certain things. i've thought long and hard, out loud and internally, about the funniness of female humans.

female author!

today i found a reference to this essay on women and humor (linked to by a totally crush-worthy blogger who uses the term "Vagina-American" in her blog post about the essay). so that got the ol' wheels spinning again.

my conclusion: you can't be funny if you aren't confident and women are less confident than men. it's a subconscious socially constructed evil, and there are exceptions, but by and large that is the reality i've seen. Ladd's article asserts that "funny" professional comediennes are often considered "bitchy" and/or "skanky". aren't these characteristics (add to the list "masculine") also bestowed upon confident women?

if you don't buy the message you're trying to deliver, your audience won't be convinced. this is true in comedy, dating, business deals, writing, court cases, everything. you gotta believe!

it makes me think of how i used to purposely get math problems wrong or pretend to not know how to spell certain words in elementary school. i didn't want my classmates to feel bad if i knew something they didn't. i was afraid of being smart. sounds silly now, but i remember this so clearly. whether it was a reaction to my gender or my birth order or my brother harassing me, i'm not sure. but i do know it was a direct effect of low confidence.

there are a few men i encounter on a regular basis who, for the most part, are not funny. but do i laugh when they spew their cocksure pop-culture referencing puns/one-liners/badges-of-being-music/film-nerds? yes. to be polite.

there are a few women i know who are funny. smart and funny. i think Ladd's essay misses the mark on that. he notes that women tend to pick up on nuanced, anecdotal humor. but he doesn't note that that takes smarts!

dumb men are "funny" (ie: larry the cable guy -- arch nemesis of my one-and-only david cross). dumb women are pathetic. smart men are funny. smart women are funny.

i think in that regard, we are one step ahead of the boys. no one should be rewarded for their ignorance.

i don't really care about the world cup either

2010-07-01T21:10:00.001-07:00

is anyone else out there uninterested in cheating celebrities?

the girls on slate's xx blog have been gabbing about gore's affair for as long as it has been public. i don't care about that. i didn't care about john edwards' affair. i don't care about how much money tiger woods' gold-diggin' wife is getting. is that wrong? and are we all really so shocked when we learn that a politician was less than honest? even someone as seemingly sexless as al gore?

(the spitzer scandal was pretty juicy. i was interested in that.)

monogamy is awesome; i can't imagine being in a non-monogamous relationship. i also think privacy is pretty rad. leave these people alone. yes, the men messed up. but guess what? women cheat too. just ask certain members of my family.

it seems we don't really hear much about famous men being cuckolded. do they just not cry to the media about it? are women better at sneaking around? are famous women more faithful than the average jill?

someone tell me! have i missed big tabloid-y stories about cheating ladies??

once is all the time

2010-06-29T22:08:00.000-07:00

the day of the found object. that's today.

i went to the MCA and the big exhibit on the main floor featured artists inspired by alexander calder (i feel just room-temperature about his work, which was half of the main floor exhibit) who use a lot of found objects to create their works.

in general, i turn to liquid love over found art. i collect found objects that fit into certain categories. today, i just smiled a lot. no liquid love, but certainly no feelings of h8.

after work i found this fortune (displayed in the spirit of duke and wally asian dinners):

yesterday, this was my fortune. times two.

i returned home to find that mom had sent me every single episode of doug on dvd. talk about a happy birthday!!!

and my precious little west coast pen pal sent me the most perfect mixtape anyone could have compiled for my ears inside this hunk-a-technojunk:

who's smilin'?

now that i think about it, all i wanted for my tenth birthday was a walkman. guess what i got? even better is the first cassette i got with it: belinda carlise - heaven is a place on earth.

that was fifteen years ago. ouroboros!!

most people are not okay

2010-06-24T21:04:00.000-07:00

yesterday i told the doctor, when asked if i am feeling "well," that i felt like i am finally getting my sh!t together. i wasn't lying. for the last week and a half, i've felt really good and not too scattered.

then i woke up embarrassingly late today.

when i was walking home tonight the moon looked like it was full and i thought i had FINALLY gotten my lady cycle to align with the lunar cycle (assuming i am as in touch with my ovaries as i like to think i am). then i squinted and realized it still has another handful of days before it's full.

i had to squint because i lost my glasses about a week-ish ago.

my sh!t is all over the place. i don't know who i'm kidding.

but i'm more or less happy and i am fortunate to have people around me that put up with my inability to ever really get it together.

and i get to see these guys in my neighborhood with my dudez tomorrow night:

i lost my glasses

2010-06-15T17:34:00.000-07:00

for the last, i dunno maybe 2 months, i've been corresponding with a friend almost solely by hand-written missives. there is a liberating commitment that comes with the absence of a backspace key.

after you've written three pages of thoughts and then you write a paragraph that you aren't so crazy about, you tend to just leave it there on the page. you don't draw a line through it, you don't scribble it out, you don't even own white-out anymore. you just leave it and carry on with a better idea on the next line. it's a little scary but it is also intimate and real.

this is made more immediate when that page is seen by eyes other than your own. when that page is not safely tucked in one of the countless notebooks on your shelf that may not be cracked open for another year. that page gets folded up and sent across the country and then you have no control over it anymore.

i just deleted the four paragraphs that led my mind to wander to the first in this post. they were irrelevant. would i have done that on wood-based paper? would i have torn it from the spiral binding, crumpled it and thrown it on the floor to later be transported to the recycling bin? maybe. would i have turned a page and started my story over fresh, from scratch? probably not. it would have been a different story completely.

we are so self-conscious, thus bent on self-editing, as our interactions move more and more into the digital sphere. we forget that we are the only ones paying such close attention to our selves. i see (and participate in) a lot of digital impulsivity, but that impulsivity is editable. physical impulsivity, in terms of communication, is a little tougher to edit.

i spent the winter corresponding with a different friend almost solely by e-mail. our conversations were mostly abstract and i find him to be much smarter than i and so my backspace key was a crucial player in the composition of my letters to him. indeed, i probably deleted more sentences than he ever read from me. i wonder if our conversation would have lasted if we had used pen and paper rather than keyboards and gmail. i probably would have given up early on.

i guess that's what makes digital communications great, right? we can better convey exactly the message we aim to express without 1.) wasting all that paper and 2.) revealing too much of ourselves through the thought-processes that lead us to our conclusions. but it seems something more than words/sentences/paragraphs is lost with the depression of the backspace key. we lose the traceable thought process. we lose the vulnerability of gestating ideas. we lose the communication of that which makes us unique.

i am constantly trying to find balance between the old and the new. i think we all are. we are in the midst of a communication revolution and it's hard to know if it's all for the better or if the marketers just want us to believe that.

i am far more excited and pleased when tearing open a pen-scrawled, adhesive-licked, transit-soiled envelope than when clicking on a bold, unread e-mail subject line. that's not to say i don't enjoy a good e-mail exchange or that i don't appreciate new media. i love new media, y'all. you know that.

but sometimes it's nice to revert to the simpler times and ponder whether we're really making the best use of these internets. what do you think?

alone in a crowd

2010-06-13T20:05:00.000-07:00

a weekend in images:

felt inspired by neighborhood vandals

died on a busted red eye box

voted class couple

met daniel clowes!

drifter in the dark

2010-06-07T20:51:00.000-07:00

i am so good at distracting myself. aren't we all? i've got about 800 words left to write for my final paper of the semester and all i can think to do is paint my nails red, drink a white russian, and read things i wrote months ago.

here's something (mostly fictional, but i'm sure it's based largely on whatever stupid crap was swimming 'round my brains at the time) i wrote a few months ago. i'm only sharing it because the last line made me chuckle.

clutching in the dark, i find the glass of water i knew i'd need at some point. raising vessel to lips and tilting head and arm backbackback, i find the glass is empty. i'm parched. can hardly breathe. i'm blinded by sleep and lack of light and i don't want to get out from under these warm covers.

so i cry. i drink my tears. the salt stings my cracked lips and i curse everyone that has ever inspired this in me.

still sitting up in bed, the dream from which i awoke returns to my mind and i am certain it was no dream, but a parallel reality. he drove me in his car and pushed me out of the door. we were on a highway and making good time. he commented on that. the good time. i couldn't hear him very clearly and i responded, "yes, i'm having a really good time." he said "that's not what i said" and no sooner was i tumbling from car seat to metal door frame to asphalt to gravel to dirty green grass and BAM into the guardrail. all went black. i was awake, thirsty, sweating. soul was bruised but body felt fine. who was he, anyway?

it's another day and i don't want to do a damn thing. night falls and i walk into a bar. alone, i set my body atop a stool and sip a gin on the rocks. my throat burns in the best way and i think about how tomorrow is a facsimile of today. i can't decide if that is a good thing or a bad thing. as i mull this over, a man sits next to me. he is dressed to my liking and smells. his smell is neither good nor bad, but it is intrusive. it distracts me from my debate and i have to look at him. i have to stare. i have to look at his earring. he does not seem the type to put a metal rod through the hard folded cartilige in his upper ear. i imagine him as a wayward teen, entering the tattoo parlor. he wants to get inked but instead chooses a piercing. his friend came with him and calls him a "pussy" for backing out of the tattoo. but he does not mind. this is how it happens. when it's time to get a tattoo, he will get a tattoo.

tonight he sits alone and drinks beer from a can. the bar is dark and the lighting is reddish. the music is loud and it is bad and he stares at the ring tab on the can. i pull my gaze from his left ear and attach it to the bottle of vodka directly in front of me. everyone else in the place has lips flapping, teeth shining, hair twirling. i have poor posture and a notebook in my bag. i look and he has no ring on his left finger. i think i want to ***k him, but i think i want to ***k most people until it really comes down to it.

when the rain comes we can be thankful

2010-06-01T16:45:00.000-07:00

just sitting in an airport, looking at people and thinking of people and being a people. that's me right now.

i am on the tail end of a nice little vacation. got to see the whole fam: there was drinking, music- and merry-making and mom and dad (divorced since i was a wee lass of but 3 years) hung out jovially. i made new friends and stole a bunch of brother jeff's music, much of which i used to have and listening to it is sending me back in time in a beautiful way.

aaaaaaanyway. enough about me.

whilst on vacation i finally finished reading a book i've been reading for weeks upon weeks. i didn't like this book -- it made me angry. guess what i did after finishing it? i cracked it back open to page 1 and started all over again.

the concept of the book is this: this bloated, drunken, stoned, free-loading punk pushing 30 years old writes a three-panel comic strip for every single day of his life. the book i read was an anthology of 3 years of his life. it pretty much goes like this: "today i woke up and went to my job at the video store and i got stoned. then i came home and drank beer. then i went to (either) a party (or) a punk show."

boring, right? 1,095 instances of this can be a bit redundant. and annoying that he doesn't do anything! so what keeps me coming back?

well, he also talks about how crazy he gets over girls and other silly emotional stresses we all deal with. and somehow, this person that i'm sure (because i looked him up on myspace and i judge photos) tries to act so "cool" has the same insecurities and weaknesses i have. i identify with him. you identify with him.

that's why he makes comics. i read an interview and he said so.

reading his mundanities makes me feel better about blogging my own. i'm positive there are faithful readers out there who have similar feelings toward me as i have toward the author of this book. i guess i try to bring up more provocative issues than he does, but by and large this blog is a broadcasted diary. i'm mostly okay with this. may i regret it in a few years? sure. i totally regret some things blogged a few years ago.

also, my brother graduated from f-ing harvard this weekend. i'm ivy league by association. BRING IT.

body shop

2010-05-25T20:59:00.000-07:00

my mind feels like my room right now: clumps of clutter and chaos among barren voids that indicate the potential for order and peace.

*** *** ***

there are a few great blog posts floating around about how american apparel is "sizist" and propagating the ideal the fashion world set long ago: thin is in.

my friend (who is average-sized like me) and i recently lamented shopping at retail stores. it's not fun. you leave hating your body and hating yourself and hating society and hating every "hot" person wearing a nice outfit you encounter on your sullen train ride home. i'll tell you a secret: my distaste for shopping is why i haven't bought pants in about a year. too depressing to try them on. also, today's jean styles for women are ugly.

there, i said it. i don't like your jeans. hell, i don't even like the jeans i own and used to wear.

i wear american apparel everyday. if it weren't for the interlock pencil skirt, i don't know what i would wear on my lower half. i own 5 of them and 2 interlock mini skirts. guess what size i wear? large. i'm not a big girl. i'm not super small, but i don't think i'm "large". no wonder someone who is actually large can't fit their clothes!

i have mixed feelings about the fat-positive movement -- some positive, some negative. i want to believe in it and stand behind it. but something is holding me back from totally buying it. i don't think this is a good place for me to get into these feelings because i'm bound to gloss over something and offend. i also can't completely understand it because i'm not in it.

ok, i can't help myself: it seems like posturing. how how how how how can someone truly be body positive in such a fat-negative society? how can you deprogram yourself from everything you've seen and heard and been called and been told and not fit into? how? how can you find the positive side of being marginalized? of being charged for two plane seats? of telling the hostess at the restaurant that you need to sit at a table because you can't fit in a booth? how can you move past this and be positive? that takes incredible strength. i'm glad the movement exists. i just don't know that i buy it. it is hard for me to imagine being able to move past all of this. again, i am outside of the movement, so i don't expect to be able to completely understand it.

either way, society sucks sometimes. i suck sometimes. we all do. ::shrug::

sometimes i just want to grow into a huge all-mother goddess creature and hug everyone in the world (even evil people!!!) and rock them and tell them that everything is going to be okay. even though it isn't.

everybody's laughing

2010-05-23T22:36:00.000-07:00

sorry i dissed you so badly the other day, midwest. it's been a rough couple weeks for me.

today was the first day of summer and the ceiling fan swirling steamy air above me reminds me that i have months of this to look forward to. restless, clammy nights fighting the dueling urges: a desire to snuggle under covers and wanting to take even my skin off.

a while ago, a friend noted that the onset of summer wasn't really a big deal to him when he lived in austin, tx. he said summer is far more important in chicago, because he has a sense of survival. he feels we deserve sunny days like we experienced today because we make it through so many miserable months around the turn of the year. i've yet to feel that way, though i've never known what it is to live somewhere that doesn't have distinct seasons. i've always taken for granted that i will experience winter and it will be less pleasant than summer. i don't know how well i'd actually hold up in a milder climate.

even though i missed the best part of the day weather-wise as i was trapped inside, pushing iced beverages of all sorts, i had a great first summer day. i had some pints in open air and debated The Point of Life, then ate overpriced mexican food, and ended the day on a see-saw beneath a super magical moon with one swell gal.

for me, the pleasure to be found in the early days of summer are not the relief from cold blustery chicago winters, but the idea that tomorrow could be a return to winter-jacket-days. it could be some lame metaphor for living your life to the fullest, but it's more about not bitching about the weather.

you were definitely born outside

2010-05-19T21:59:00.000-07:00

i'm fed up with the midwest.

it hit me like a busload of 5'10"-meat-and-potatoes-fed women today.

i'm not always going to be sick of it. it's usually bearable. i like it here, to be honest. but today, right now, and for about six or seven hours leading up to now, i am fed up with the midwest.

i looked around me on the train. looked at the faces and the bodies and the fashions. i looked at the streets and the parks and the cars. i walked past a few bars after class, hoping for an empty stool. i looked at the cups on the tables in front of my classmates tonight.

::cringe::

this morning i got a letter and mix tape in the mail from a friend on the west coast and this evening i spoke for about an hour on the phone with a friend back home in the springs. smack in the middle of that, i realized that i am totally sick of it. i need a change of scenery.

i don't know that i can put it into words. jeff has been trying to verbalize it for the entire time he's been here. maybe "fed up" is too strong. unamused? bored? i think "bored" is a closer fit.

i'm going to be here for at least a little while longer, and i'll be able to manage. last summer treated me pretty well, and i expect this will too (pavement, superchunk, ween -- in reverse order). i've got a good thing going with the cafe and i like my friends here. the question is, will i survive another winter?

on a radder note, check out what i snagged for less than 10 bones:

girltalk

2010-05-17T19:20:00.000-07:00

in the last two nights i've taken myself on as many dates.

last night i saw "Please Give" and it was really good. i cried. sure, i'm pretty emotionally volatile, but the film moved me nonetheless. have any of you seen it? let's talk about it! i rarely go see movies, so i feel really hip and with-it when i do.

tonight i'm at a (cheesy) bar drinking wine and trying to get myself to do work while avoiding the homestead. i also bought myself dinner.

but seriously, being a spinster isn't so bad. though i have some crazy knots in my back and wouldn't mind having a boyfriend make them go away. and tell me i'm pretty. that's all i really want from my next relationship: backrubs and compliments. and chocolate. and kisses.

i read a poem on a blog written by another single female barista living in chicago (no, she's not my friend; i found her blog through this site) and it was about eating toast in bed and watching 30 Rock on Hulu and the warmth of the laptop in her bed. brotherhood of (wo)man. personally, i only ever eat apples in bed. and the occasional handful of dry cereal. either way, it was comforting to see that another person has so many life situations that are similar to my own.

it doesn't mean we aren't lonely, it means we're okay being alone.

do i sound like carrie bradshaw? i don't want to.

off the wagon, y'all

2010-05-13T21:03:00.000-07:00

things i've been thinking about:

- there are so many things i want to know more about. i am overwhelmed and feel i'll never find the time to learn them all. is this the sad result of the 'information age'? hypertext is, at times, the bane of my intellectual existence. because how the hell am i supposed to keep up with current events and other stuff? and also have a life?!?

- i'm taking a course called 'fandom and active audiences' next semester and i think i'm going to do a project on juggalo culture. i keep having great fantasies of embedding myself in the juggalo community. please support me, friends. i have to get to the bottom of this (and magnets).

- I MISS BLOGGING. i hardly ever write for myself. at least blogging gives me a reason to write. otherwise my thoughts just fester and that's not productive.

- i bought even more comics two days ago so i'm going to sip on this white russian and get to work. they aren't going to read themselves!

i blogged again

2010-05-10T20:10:00.001-07:00

... but it was on this blog here.

click that link to read about comic books i bought today and to hear what i've been hearing lately.

in other news, i got stuck at the lake mid-run today. ya know how i get swept up in the beauty of the world sometimes? it happened today. it was really windy and kind of cold but i couldn't stop watching the little waves crash and reminding myself it's a lake i look at, not an ocean. when i got up to run i was so mad i sat for so long.

beautiful blood

2010-04-16T19:06:00.000-07:00

well, i almost made it a month without blogging.

i recently realized that if i am passionate about anything in this life, it is encouraging women to drop the fear and loathing act regarding their periods. i realized this whilst turning the comments section of my poor friend's blog into my own little uterocentric soap box. you're a good sport, marx.

there are probably a good deal of women out there who share my views on the beauty of menstruation. i have only met one or two. and that's not to say it's enjoyable to have blood and uterine tissue escaping from your vagina against your will for 12 weeks out of the year. but it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

anyway, where this is all really going is Kotex (a brand i have never supported, but in three weeks will get some of my hard-earned tip money) has launched a period-positive ad campaign.

all i have to say is, YES. thank you.

ladies, let go. don't be ashamed, don't be weird, don't view your period as a curse. embrace it, and it will get better. talk about it. we hear enough about boners in this modern life, i think the boys could stand to hear a little more about what we go through. and next month, try to find pleasure in the appearance of your period. i'm interested in opening a dialogue about this with anyone who'd like to.

i guess this is good-bye

2010-03-23T21:30:00.000-07:00

i'm done blogging.

maybe not forever, but for now.

i was going to walk away wordlessly, but i think a good-bye is called for.

it's been real, y'all.

partly i just don't have time to blog. partly i just don't care to blog. mostly i'm trying to limit my hypocritical actions. each day i grow more and more displeased with mundane self-broadcasting via digital media.

it's me, it's not you. i love you.

i've enjoyed our time together. i'll still be reading your blog (or self-absorbed facebook status updates).

hugs 'n kisses,
ally

i thought of you

2010-03-17T21:48:00.001-07:00

a blogger i enjoy posted this video and now i can't stop listening to this song:

sometimes finding out about new bands isn't disappointing.

you're not teaching me a new thing

2010-03-12T23:59:00.000-08:00

for days i've been trying to think of the perfect metaphor for this thing.

it has been the goal of the last few runs i've gone on. it has been the thing i know i'll wake up having dreamt of. it is what will temporarily satisfy me and if i could just think of it, i'd write it here and though you might not understand completely, you'd understand this hanging dissatisfaction.

it's kind of like this:

or maybe that's a better metaphor for trying to find the metaphor. the biggest problem is i get bored with the metaphor problem and start thinking about other things, like coffee or money or sleeping or something.

how do real writers do it?

life must be so wonderful

2010-03-02T23:04:00.000-08:00

today i had two moments of blissful wonderment at the beauty of nature and existence in general.

do you ever have moments like that? i get it almost every time i eat a banana, but to a lesser extent. think about bananas for a minute. i'm being completely sincere here. i'm not making fun of stoners. think about a banana and think about how someone figured out how delicious it is (don't get me started on banana bread) and if your mind isn't at least a little figuratively engorged, you should check your pulse. even before someone (likely someanimal rather than somehuman) figured out how to eat it, just think about its structure in general. amazing!!!

the first of my earth-mother moments took place on my first run along the lake of 2010. granted, i wasn't able to complete my favorite route because of ice, but the sky above the lake is so much heavier than the sky above the land. far out.

the second moment happened on my walk home. the moon was watching me and reassuring me that i'm not as alone as i feel and i even spotted a few stars. in the city, when i see stars, i feel grounded and like everything is going to be okay.

on days like today i wonder if i'm moving along the right path at all. maybe i should have gone to live and work at omega a few years ago when the opportunity presented itself (i kid, i kid).

i actually think these feelings are related to hormones and where my eggs are at this very moment. either way, i'm totally groovin' on earthly vibes.

bitter broad

2010-02-21T19:32:00.000-08:00

tonight i read a blog post about a writer who claims there is no room for feminism in love/marriage. oh no she didn't!!!

i immediately read the 2008 interview in The Atlantic with this woman, followed by a 2010 marie claire interview with her. Lori Gottlieb, a seemingly bitter never-married 40-year-old single mother, recently published a book encouraging women to lower their standards so they can find a husband: Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough.

in these interviews, gottlieb argues that a woman should have a checklist and find a man that meets most of her criteria rather than holding out for love. we shouldn't be so picky while we're young, lest we end up old maids like she has.

this is all quite relevant to me (though you know i don't hope to technically marry), as too much work mixed with winter blues has me feeling lonely and doomed to forever be a girl among (platonic) men. as much as i enjoy the freedom of being single, i would like to find myself in a stable romantic relationship. but i'm in no hurry to settle for the next person i go on a date with.

gottlieb knows i will disagree with her:

in your 20s, because of this whole idea of empowerment and we-don’t-have-to-compromise-on-anything and we’re so independent and self-sufficient, a lot of us think, “Well of course I wanna meet my soul mate and of course I wanna get married, but if it doesn’t happen — that’s okay, I will be okay.” Better to be alone for the right reasons...

anyway, she continues to insist that most women want to make a family and even claims that the domestic-goddess-housewife lifestyle is still an ideal for most women. while it's not the case for me, maybe it is true, but that's not really what inspired this post.

here it is: as i was reading this and getting all indignant and third-wave-feminist on gottlieb, i noticed a box of links in the right of the window:

remember i was trying to discern whence my distaste for my own kind? i'm thinking it has something to do with this.

i am lucky to have men in my life who like my mind and find my thoughts interesting. maybe they also think my boobs "look amazing" and wouldn't mind if i learned the "5 little things that make me more attractive". or maybe not. but when i pull on my standard outfit: leggings, skirt, stupid t-shirt and cardigan, the impression i hope to give is that i have a mind teeming with interesting thoughts. i'm not trying to trick anyone into the sack with me. my exact level of attractiveness is there for all to see.

women's fashion magazines put up a rather transparent facade of empowerment while keeping their readers trapped beneath layers of suffocating makeup and starving for attention and a juicy burger. the blatant superficiality of these articles turns my stomach. (ed. note: sorry for the cliche-overload!)

while i was impressed by the marie claire interviewer (a single-and-loving-it 35-year-old woman), i wonder how many lonely single ladies actually stuck it out til the end of the article instead of clicking on one of these links:

when i dance i raise the dead

2010-02-15T20:45:00.001-08:00

how does winter affect you? i am having a much different experience this year than ever before and though it is less depressive than the past 23 years, i'm still having trouble dealing.

i'm caught between the desire to reveal myself and the desire to hibernate, emotionally speaking. i posted a blog a few nights ago and then deleted it from the internet. what is that? here's an excerpt (i promise i'm leaving out the worst parts):

it was going to be about how winter makes me write differently; how winter makes me write cryptically. you see, last night i wrote these words (among others): "how many times can you bite your tongue before you're just gnawing air, gnashing teeth, grinding words?"

most things i write in the winter are buried beneath layers of meaning. it's like some stupid living metaphor. in the winter, i bundle up my message in layers of warm words. but in the summer i run free and naked, my armpits flying in your face and making you uncomfortable.

i do have flashes of frankness during winter, however. often these flashes end up in blazes, much to my chagrin. not beautiful, glorious blazes. not like the fireworks on my birthday. more like fires that take the lives of family cats in the middle of the night. these blazes are demoralizing and make me wish i'd just never opened my mouth at all.

this weird living metaphor of burying meaning is not confined to the written word. it happens when i speak and act. can anyone else relate? am i even making sense right now? maybe i should blame it on estrogen or something.

the act of posting this entry and then deleting it hours later is a perfect example of a flash of frankness gone wrong.

there is something lonely and sad about winter. everyone bundled up tight in their coats and scarves and hats and watching the sidewalk while they step to beware of ice. no eye contact. everyone cold and stir-crazy and sleepy. people anticipating the future (warm weather), so not present in the moment and so not able to really be with you even when you're together.

i feel all of this a bit too deeply. everything seems to crack at the seams in the winter. then with the spring thaw, i face the mess i left and everything is melty and fluid and i mold myself into a more acceptable form.

in the meantime, my writing will be cryptic, my frank words/actions will often be regrettable and prove fruitless, and i will try not to backtrack on my path to self-acceptance. so far, the answer has been running in the cold and the longest hottest showers my body has known.

how are you dealing?

future_regret.livejournal.com

2010-02-09T22:25:00.000-08:00

i write letters on foot. on feet. two feet, one touching at a time.

wondering why one would waste his time with intentions that don't match, i make fresh tracks in the snow. few are out tonight, it's a blizzard. planes haven't taken off in hours.

i can't go inside yet, things are sparkling.

i remember seeing two moons one night. realizing one was a beacon illuminating a prison, we went toes first into the water. no secrets those nights. to think of it now, i see how metaphoric the whole scene was. how prophetic the whole scene was. we always forgot our towels, didn't we?

but now i'm in the snow and i'm by myself and i'm eating my tail and feeling it all over again. it isn't bad. it isn't anything, really.

so long as i don't see my reflection, i feel good.

hygienic epiphany

2010-02-06T22:48:00.000-08:00

this occurred to me a few mornings ago while brushing my teeth:

i have always assumed the arm from the arm & hammer logo belongs to mr. clean.

anyone else?

the fact that i've drawn this conclusion since i was old enough to recognize each brand makes me sick over branding and brainwashing. also, my recently-contemplating-feminism-and-gender-roles-in-general mind finds it interesting that such masculine symbols (add to this list the Brawny man) represent cleanliness.

shouldn't it be a beautiful housewife in heels and pearls? maybe it was a way for advertisers to sell via sex to women: buff, tough dudes will help you make home sparkle for hubby.

but i digress. the real point of this post was to bring up the fact that for roughly 20 years i thought the body-less arm belonged to a hair-less man. i don't know what to think anymore.

steal your face

2010-02-02T22:12:00.000-08:00

for the last few weeks i've been debating deleting my internet presence. deleting facebook. ceasing to blog (though i probably wouldn't delete them, if only for selfish reasons). the major impetus for this debate is that i hurt my sister's feelings by not accepting her facebook friend request. when she let me know she was hurt, it threw me into a days-long funk. over facebook. stupid. not worth it.

now, before you jump to conclusions about why i won't add my own blood -- a woman who changed my diapers and saved me from getting grounded so many times during my teen years -- as a facebook friend, all i can say is if you knew jen, you'd understand. she and i do not have the same sense of humor nor the same set of values. this is a preemptive defense against future fights with her. little did i know it would land me in a fight.

as far as the end of blogging, i just fear i come off as more self-obsessed than i am. and i think blogging has deteriorated my writing skills a bit. and sometimes i just don't have anything to say but there is some weird nagging in my head that i should say something anyway.

since i am a new media studies student, deleting my facebook account would be sort of antithetical to my intellectual pursuits. or it would be an interesting experiment. though, i'd be out of touch with what i'm learning about, so how would that help me?

anyway, i was talking to a friend/classmate/pig-lover tonight about my recent urge to "kill my digital self" and he told me about the web 2.0 suicide machine! apparently facebook isn't allowing them to completely kill facebook users, which just makes me want to get rid of it even more. corporations with claws fused to my bones -- scary.

i tried to commit myspace suicide but it doesn't look like it worked. i guess they still have to work some bugs out.

i could go on for a really long time about the positives and negatives of social networking sites. i think that for the most part, it is a game of self-promotion and it is doing little for the generation that was born into it (younger than me). in fact, it has introduced a whole host of new problems for tweens/teens today: cyberbullying (which has led to IRL suicide), sexual predation is easier, kids are posting naughty photos, etc.

on the other hand, it facilitates communication with people we may not have otherwise communicated with. it's a place to share interesting links and news stories that your friends may not have otherwise found. it can be useful for businesses and consumers.

i don't know. everything in life is polar, that's what i always say. you have to take the good with the bad. stop drop and roll. what do you think about it? i wasted a good half-hour tonight looking at facebook profiles of people from high school i don't think i ever truly cared about and certainly never related to, just to see what they look like now that they're engaged or pregnant or drunk or whatever. that's absurd!! i don't care about these people, yet because of facebook i have a window into their world that i can't bring myself to draw the curtain on.

enjoy this tune by suicide and let's all mourn for the days of the no wave movement, when facebook wasn't even a word:

berry hatchet

2010-01-29T22:31:00.000-08:00

for the last month i've been in a delightful e-mail conversation with one of the brightest early-20-somethings i know. we've touched upon lots of things and recently we discussed (mostly i rambled and he probably yawned) free will/fate/simultaneity/other ideas about How Life Works.

i've been drawing the conclusion lately (buckle up...this goes against most things i've probably said to you) that maybe there isn't fate. maybe all these synchronicities and seeming connections between events and thoughts and actions and causes and effects are just a function of the human mind to make sense of it all. we can create our own little narrative arc by assigning significance to every thing that we do and every thing that happens to us and every thing that someone says to us and every thing we think about other people. but maybe it doesn't really matter.

this is what i've been considering of late. then something happened tonight that has me drawing connections between everything and totally ignoring that theory.

tonight i was floored to hear from an ex-boyfriend that i had been thinking of recently, asking that we call a truce and neutralize the bad blood that flows between. contact initiated yesterday with an even more significant someone from my past that an intriguing person from my present reminds me of makes this reconnection seem even more meaningful somehow.

but maybe it's all just coincidence and this is how my mind and shaky emotions and can handle this. i'm just glad it is all positive.

keepin' it irie in 2Kten.

dream accomplishments

2010-01-27T22:01:00.001-08:00

i made a film in a dream a few nights ago.

well, in the dream my friend had actually made it, but i watched it. in reality, it all came from me.

it was kind of sad, in the context of the dream (wah wah wah, unrequited love), but it is totally awesome and beautiful in the context of life. i have written songs and stories in dream before, and now i have created a movie!

i get frustrated, though, that i am in the midst of some serious writer's block while awake. when i have time to sit down and sift through my thoughts, i draw a blank. i can compose rambling emails and blog posts, but i can't craft the self-indulgent quasi-autobiographical vignettes that help keep me sane.

let me sleep, though, and i'll give you a masterpiece. always and forever dreams are my favorite part of being alive.

what's the coolest thing you have ever done in a dream?

when i went off to college at 18, i thought i'd be a psychology major. i was enrolled at a research university and i thought i could study sleep and dreams. then i transferred to a hippie school to study journalism under men inspired by woodward & bernstein. now look at me -- pushing caffeine and studying new media (whatever that is, right?).

unrelated, but noteworthy:

- happy birthday (a few hours late) to my favorite christian.

- r.i.p. howard z

- we got our first bad yelp review today

- watch, listen and melt away with me:

muy feo

2010-01-26T22:31:00.000-08:00

i know i'm always bloggin' about how i don't want to marry and certainly don't want to reproduce, but i must blog about it again.

first of all, digesting this book makes me realize what an empowered-and-unencumbered-by-the-feminine-mystique woman i am. i truly am a woman of the 90s.

secondly, please watch this video recently posted on the family blog, for an illustration of things i'd not like to propagate:

1. childhood obesity
2. prepubescent sexuality/loss of innocence/loss of self-respect
3. aping of vapid music videos and lousy mainstream musicians: he makes an aggressive, scowling angry face. kids are supposed to be happy!!

i'm not trying to be a total downer, but this is garbage. seeing that little fella stuffed into those outfits highlights how ridiculous that style is. i'm all about self-expression and i will be the first to admit i don't have great style (jeff will second this, as he calls my look "junkie librarian chic"). but look at the stuff they put on mini daddy! terrible! that is eye pollution! usually, unattractive things get worse as they get bigger, but seeing the mini version of those outfits (help me out with the name of that style?) is far worse than seeing full-grown autonomous men wearing that stuff. maybe it's the idea of some father dressing his 9 year old son -- much like a doll -- to match him that disturbs me.

what is mini daddy learning from his 15 minutes of fame? how to thrust his pelvis at 7-year-old girls shakin' it. how to be materialistic. how to throw his hands around at the camera.

this is why i say people should take a break from reproducing for a while! i feel sorry for mini daddy. it's not his fault. his parents (and agent) should know better.

(sorry, brother jeff. i'm not trying to dis your pick. paul's is a little more adult contemporary while simultaneously very kidz bop. materialistic and subtly sexy, as well.)

confessional

2010-01-23T21:22:00.000-08:00

i always find it amusing when people (the sexist in me wants to type "women" but the humanist in me knows it goes for any and all gender-identifications) order a mocha or a flavored latte with skim milk.

really? you're trying to save yourself 40 or 50 calories on a nearly 500-calorie drink? srsly? we all know that whole milk tastes best in a latte! c'monnnn!!! the syrup you're asking me to add contains almost 100 calories per pump! chemical calories, even!! oh, and you want a scone, too?

before i was a business owner, i would give whole milk to women (this time it is gender-specific and i was being sexist) i presumed were watching their calories. i know this was some sort of revolt against my own former habits of calorie restriction (and worse) in the name of weight loss and/or maintenance. in fact, i'm such a hypocrite that i often still fix myself lattes with skim milk, all the while thinking "silly girl!" about anyone (male or female or neutral) who orders a latte with the same milk choice. then i wash my latte down with a bagel and cream cheese. i am over most of my food hang-ups (i even eat bacon now!) and my body couldn't be happier.

now that it is my establishment, i give customers exactly what they order. but that doesn't mean i can quiet the judge in my brain. and i know the judge is mostly judging my own illogical drink choices. but i can sleep better at night thinking other people are treating their tongues wrong than recognizing my own faults.

crazy prophylactics

2010-01-20T22:28:00.000-08:00

a friend was lamenting her relatively new status as a stay-at-home mom yesterday. she said she took her daughters to a birthday party and was among the other mothers and it hit her that this was her lot.

a quick background on the friend: she and her wife have two daughters (one is 2.5 years old and one is 15 months). she has worked as a chef for years (a hectic profession, in case you didn't know) and opened her own cafe -- working seemingly around the clock -- about a year ago. her wife works downtown as a civil engineer. she recently closed her cafe and is taking a more pro-active role in raising their two beautiful girls.

back to the story: the friend said she was talking with the other mothers and there was a sadness about many of them. one spoke wistfully of what she used to do before motherhood. others seemed resigned to the fact that that's "all" they were - stay-at-home moms. i sensed that she and these other women felt they could be doing something more worthwhile with their time; felt they could be going after bigger dreams and goals. of course there were some who were perfectly happy in their domestic role, who had probably dreamt since girlhood of marrying a prince charming and poppin' out some mini-mes and running them around to play dates and soccer practices. no thanks.

i told friend that i admired that she gave up what she loves to take care of people she loves. i also admire that parenting is literally a full-time job. there is no downtime. you can never not be a parent so long as your kids are alive. on the other hand, it is not a lifestyle i'd like to have. i chalk that up to the fact that i am still young and have lots of living for myself to do before i start living for children. also, i don't want to birth anything or anyone.

today i finally began reading The Feminine Mystique.

the first chapter deals with exactly what my friend spoke of. friedan calls it "the problem that has no name." i think it's interesting that 46 years later, women still feel suffocated and smothered by stay-at-home-motherhood. the more things change, the more they stay the same, eh?

stepping outside the box

2010-01-18T22:21:00.000-08:00

there was a time, which lasted years, when i would make a conscious effort to ignore sidewalks and paved paths. i viewed them as The Man holding me down. i would mentally slap my knuckles when following the dog-leg sidewalk instead of cutting across the grass.

i thought i was beginning to de-program myself from the mainstream. paving my own path, blazing my own trail, yadda yadda yadda.

then i dated a landscape architect for a while. one day i told him about my plot to undo The Man's brainwashing. i knew this would be a touchy subject. he set me straight quickly, explaining something he read in landscape architect college: a group of landscape architects did a study on a college campus quad, allowing students to naturally erode paths in the grass. the result was a pattern which is seen on most campuses today -- spoke-like.

he told me that it's actually bad to ignore the sidewalks and paved paths because then you are crushing and eroding the grass. also, a landscape architect like him was paid a lot of money to decide where to put the sidewalk. and a landscaper was paid far less to do the more demanding job of realizing the landscape architect's plan. give them a break.

anyway, since he opened my eyes to the Goodness of sidewalks and paved paths (this was years ago), i have been a changed woman. i will stick it to The Man in other ways. like boycotting H&M (and trying harder than ever to only buy my clothes second-hand) from now on.

i walk through buttercup playlot every day. it is a small park with a paved path that proves a hypotenuse to the right angle that is the intersection of my street and another street. the paved path is arbitrarily curved, mostly for aesthetics, i believe. it has been covered in snow for a month or so, and other pedestrians have sort of formed their (our) own little curved path from gate to gate.

i found this interesting. there is no need to do this when unmarred white covers the ground. we could walk an almost perfectly straight line (save a slight bend to avoid running into a tree) when there is snow underfoot. but we don't. because The Man tells us not to.

now that there has been a bit of a premature thaw, the paved path is visible. it amuses me to see that our snow-curve was not far off from the actual paved path-curve.

i guess jack was right, after all.

sorry, y'all

2010-01-15T05:01:00.000-08:00

if you've caught the negative pole of my recent mood swings, you should try to catch up with me this weekend.

two of my favorite living human beings are entering chicago in exactly two hours and it will be a hectic, but much needed, weekend of frivolity and bacon. the only thing that could make it better is if brother paul had booked his rich @$$ a ticket to the windy city.

though i probably would have imploded from mirth-overload.

in any case, this is my blanket apology to anyone and everyone i've been a psychopathic clown to in the last week. i will either be completely exhausted and even crazier next week, or i will be riding out the afterglow of a weekend spent with my highly influential big brother and his (inner and outer) beauty queen of a wife.

bartlett's

2010-01-14T19:44:00.000-08:00

in a fit of winter-induced sadism, i decided to watch a favorite movie while i fell asleep last night (though i only managed to keep my eyes open for about 20 minutes). it reminds me of most of the men/boys i've had feelings for (minus my most recent relationship, which was more reminiscent of American Psycho), thus depressing me every time i view it without fail.

there are a few scenes and lines that cut right through me and leave me lying in my own lonely blood. for instance, when joel tells clementine that intimacy isn't constant talking. i cringe a thousand times over. and when david cross's character's wife disses him. she doesn't know what a gem she has! (i kid, i kid. kind of.)

help me feel better: what films bring out the worst in your self-esteem?

see you at tha crossroads

2010-01-12T22:38:00.000-08:00

i have been lucky, kind of, in that no person i have unconditional, familial love for has died yet. i sometimes think i am unlucky for this, because when it happens, i will be (am already) a grown adult and will probably lose my marbles for some time.

my mom called this weekend to let me know they had to put tobie, the cat i've had since i was just barely 6 years old, to sleep. i haven't really grieved yet and i don't think it will completely hit me until i return home in about a year and don't hear her sad, aging meow.

her late days were sad. hanging out at mom's house during my short stint back home was kind of depressing. blind, she slowly ricocheted off the living room furniture every time she got out of her favorite chair and did a lap around the room.

i took her into my teenage bedroom and laid on my bed with her the day i left. she used to love hanging out with me in my room, exploring caverns made by pillows and blankets. this time she was scared, confused and lost.

this photo has been the background on my phone since that day:

every time i open my phone now, i am reminded that the friend i've had the longest is gone. and then my mind immediately moves on to think about something else. i hope i don't play this unconscious game of distraction when humans in my life pass away.

well i wonder (by the smiths)

2010-01-08T22:11:00.001-08:00

a few questions that have been plaguing my mind of late. please answer as you see fit:

1. can you tell someone you find them fascinating without feeling like a creep? or rather, should i feel like a creep if i tell a fascinating person how fascinating i find him?

2. what's the deal with vices? why do we have to have them? why can't i have a stretch of time longer than a day or two without giving in to any vices? why does one vice replace another?

3. WHAT ARE DREAMS? mine have been really intense lately. y'all know dreams are practically my favorite part of being alive. but what are they?

4. why is rock 'n roll so satisfying?

waiting to exhale (by whitney h)

2010-01-04T21:07:00.000-08:00

a friend recently quoted a line from a fellini film in his blog which sums up how i feel about 90% of the time: "I have nothing to say, but I want to say it anyway." that's good, right?

today, however, i have lots to say and little energy to say it.

click here.

employee pwned and operated

2010-01-03T06:05:00.000-08:00

we are opening the coffee shop tomorrow.

i am all of these things: stressed, depressed, excited, nervous, miserable, happy, proud, anxious, fed-up, burnt out, procrastinating, doubtful, exhausted.

if you live in chicago, a visit to the cafe in the coming month would mean the world to me. if you don't live in chicago, a visit to the cafe in the coming month would be sort of creepy but kind of awesome.

beware, they say

2010-01-01T21:58:00.000-08:00

drunk and with bitter fingers, i composed an e-mail around 3:30 am this morning (last night?) that aimed to end an emotional tug-of-war we've been playing for about six months. hasty? that's debatable. sharp and to the point (in a roundabout way my insecurity refuses to abandon)? mhm.

the most amazing part of it is i used the word 'recalcitrant' and i used it correctly. it just popped out of my brain. it is a word i would never dare to use in a sentence while sober without first checking its definition to be sure i used it correctly. but i was drunk. i had just returned from drinking lots of champagne and shots of bourbon. happy new year.

oh, don't worry, the tug-of-war continues. the addressee came to visit me today before having read the e-mail and we talked the talk, calling truce over pizza and a movie tonight (did i totally ruin that metaphor?). but that's not really the point.

the point is, i shouldn't be allowed near the internet when i'm drunk. even if it does enhance my vocabulary. a while ago google unveiled a function in the labs called goggles. it had you complete a few math equations, i think, before you could send an e-mail. i don't regret last night's e-mail because it was honest and forced me to say things out loud today. but there are certainly past e-mails sent while half-lit that i wouldn't have minded being blocked from sending. i should look into email/blog goggles.

i am mostly impressed with my correct word use and with the fact that i didn't write anything regrettable. i usually second-guess and half-regret any form of communication made after 11 pm regardless of what i've ingested that day.

when exactly do you mean

2009-12-30T19:10:00.000-08:00

negative comments have led me to hold back from blogging. and that's stupid. i shouldn't have to justify why i write what i write, right?

i wrote a mission statement for my blog a few months back, but the mission has changed over the last few months. synchronicity has kind of lost its luster for me. most of the mystical garbage that once held my fascination is really falling to the wayside these days.

i share personal experiences on my blog, not necessarily in an attempt to get attention, rather to make connections with readers. and it works. it happens. i shouldn't be ashamed of that, but after some of the ridiculous things this nameless, faceless, sense-of-grammar-less person who is prone to misspelling words wrote, i felt ashamed.

i had written a post about what my brief stint in saratoga meant to me. deleted.

i had written a post reflecting on how i've grown and changed since the beginning of the year. deleted.

there were a few others that i forget now. that's stupid. i should have published them.

my new year's resolution? continue on my journey of self-acceptance and self-awareness and saying "f*ck yo*" to all who pass ill judgment on me. i have a great support network of people who think i'm alright. thanks, dudes! xoxo

to the h8ers, talk to the hand!

electricity and lust

2009-12-27T19:19:00.000-08:00

watching this flick on my train ride home yesterday (home meaning chicago in this sense, not my other home) had me feeling the pains of false nostalgia. i wanted to be there in my flannel shirt with a copy of my zine in my backpack, one-joint high, wearing lipstick and ready to rock with a long-haired boyfriend.

then today i was thinking how my generation* hasn't really gotten to experience a major musical revolution. we were kids during the 90s (which wasn't an era of amazing music, technically speaking. but i could listen to nothing but 90s rock and be perfectly content). no music scene in this first decade of the 2ks has been remarkable or revolutionary, right? there hasn't been a huge movement.

i could be totally wrong. please bring to light anything major i have blocked from my memory. i just can't think of any specific music that i will hear again in 20 years and think "ahh ... the beginning of the millenium. that was good stuff." i won't hear something from the aughts and be transported like i imagine my dad is everytime he listens to sgt. pepper's lonely hearts club band. and please, don't argue that animal collective is our musical revolution. please. don't.

now, the indie rock movement of the 90s wasn't huge and sweeping and not everyone was into it. but it was something: the whole DIY scene, which still exists today, but isn't as genuine and authentic as it was back then. i want something new and authentic like that!

sure, the whole digitalization of media in general is a pretty big thing and myspace as a means for band PR is big, but that's not what i'm talking about.

i'm talkin' about a whole scene wrapped up in some new sort of music that has heart and value and that lends itself to a subculture defined by it and vice versa. boys bands have come and gone and dj danger mouse made mash-ups huge and there's the whole emo/screamo scene, but those are nothing compared to our big brothers' and parents' teenage years.

is it radiohead? no, radiohead doesn't belong to us. radiohead belongs to our big brothers. we don't own anything. hand-me-downs are all we get.

*people born around 1983-1987

sexie

2009-12-20T15:29:00.000-08:00

a recent post on the XX blog has a number of women discussing catcalls -- complimentary or harassing?

i've had a few conversations with my lecherous womanizing (this is not slander, he will admit to it) roommate about this and he doesn't understand why i hate having a vagina after a complete stranger hits on me when i'm walking down the street. i shouldn't take offense, he says.

it does offend me though. and it's hard for me to pinpoint why. if i'm at a bar or another social setting and a dude starts flirting with me, i (usually) am flattered/amused. never disgusted.

maybe i don't think it's fair that men are allowed to be so damned blatant about their horniness. men are allowed to be hypersexual all the time, everywhere. i think they should have to keep their lust to themselves like women do.

maybe it offends me because i know these men are not catcalling because i'm a stone fox. they are catcalling because i have breasts and a vagina. it's totally impersonal and as soon as another woman passes they will say something equally lewd to her. it makes me feel like i don't want to be a woman.

here's a little vignette i wrote about 2 months ago, titled " 'all day i dream about sex' by KoRn":

I had it all planned out. He would say "What's wrong?" and I'd come back at him with "How's that saying go? Insanity is repeating an action and expecting a different outcome? Aw, nevermind, I'm okay." Then he would look through my eyes and into my soul and understand that I'd been wronged and he would decide then and there to never make me feel insane.

It didn't unfold that way at all. Does it ever?

A few days earlier, I'm standing on the train. Morning commute. Dead eyes scan free newspapers. Cold hands clutch germy poles. Bodies jostle and doors open and people move and no one wants to be where they are. I try to think about something, anything. My brain is blank. I am no better than these lifeless cattle.

Fast-forward nine hours and we're all doing the same thing in the reverse direction. Fingers manipulate touch screens and buttons and e-mails are sent and the office comes home with them and no one can force a smile and that lady in the fancy suit is drooling while she naps.

My days are spent in a cubicle. I'm a content manager. It's a mindless job and I think about sex most of the time. The actions I make on the computer screen are repetitive and after half a cup of the shit coffee we brew upstairs and 15 minutes of click-right-click-click-highlight-backspace-save, I am on auto-pilot. Mostly I wonder what it would be like to take different men in the office as lovers.

now that i've shared that, maybe i've offended a few men. "how does it feel?" -- bob dylan

dead an!mals

2009-12-18T22:31:00.000-08:00

last night we had what we like to call a "meth night." there is no meth involved, but on a few levels, we wish there was. basically it means we work at the cafe until way too late.

we did this last night because we were led to believe that the health inspector would come in today between 2pm and 430pm. we were led to believe this by the conversation she and i had when we scheduled this appointment.

so i got home around 330am and fell asleep shortly after sending a few sleepy-brained-thus-wordy emails and woke up a few minutes late and jeff scooped me up in his honda accord around 725am and we hit home depot for the billionth time in the last six weeks.

yaddayaddayadda the health inspector's boss called me at 215pm to tell me we wouldn't be inspected until monday. cue air leaving sails at record speed.

still, the space looks great and we celebrated tonight. we feasted upon duck and we drank beer and then we retired to said space and drank more beer and played 'never have i ever' with the owner of our coffee roastery. it has been a relatively pleasant 48 hours.

this is what happened to me at a recent meth night, via squeege:

bateman incarnate

2009-12-14T21:30:00.001-08:00

in light of recent flame comments on my blog, i've been thinking about self-expression and anonymity. why do people hide behind usernames/stage names/noms de plume? what's the point of expressing an opinion or a feeling or an emotion -- the building blocks of our identities -- if one won't state his true name?

i know there are times and places when this makes sense: political dissidents under rigid rule. people testifying about being raped. the son of a famous so-so who wants to publish a novel and see if he can make it to the NYT bestseller's list without having a blingin' last name.

i do not understand it on the internet. what, you're afraid your employer will find out about your affinity for BSG fanfiction? worried a google search for your name might turn up an embarrassing scuffle with the law from years past? brave enough to say big words but nervous to stand behind them?

i guess my biggest issue with anonymous commenters (not only on my blog ... on the internet in general) is the lack of accountability. it seems cowardly, right? to criticize someone/something while hiding behind your computer? we should all be granted the right to face our accusers. this facilitates learning and understanding and personal growth.

if something is worth saying, isn't it worth putting a name (and maybe a face) to the words?

to my personal flamer (it's a pun, get it? i'm playing on the latent homosexual tendencies you're repressing that give way to your homophobic comments): why did you delete your blog? i was going to subscribe to your RSS feed!! :(

practicing high wire moves

2009-12-12T19:28:00.000-08:00

so last night, like many eligible bachelorettes in my demographic, i made a vlog.

talkin' while tired from ally brisbin on Vimeo.

watching it today, i realize i left out a lot of positivity! it's all laying on the cutting room floor!

i guess i kept what i kept because it illustrates the spiritual fatigue i am feeling.

what was left out is this: i am feeling really positive about the whole experience and the future. i am feeling really lucky, as well. i get to spend all day being my own boss with one of my good friends. he doesn't ever bug me with stupid stories and we drink soda every day. we are receiving unending support from friends and family and neighbors and it feels fantastic. it is a lot of work and a lot of brainpower and i learn something new everyday (today i taught myself how to upholster!!).

also, i recanted a story about meeting the drummer of a band i really dig on the bus one night and showing him that i had the button of his band on my purse and he said i made him feel a little famous and that it was the first time he had been recognized. being recognized from my vlog seemed to make it all come full-circle.

oh, and does the man with the feline vagina remind you of a certain renaissance unicorn?

oh, you silly

2009-12-09T20:26:00.000-08:00

at the end of the semester, i declared i would read one book a week between then and the first week of january, when my second semester begins.

i am overly ambitious and have too much confidence in my future-self sometimes.

here we are, a few weeks later, and i am two chapters into book #1.

problem is, when i get home, the only things i want to read are on the internets. that makes me really angry with myself. i had a stretch of time when i couldn't stay focused on texts that weren't graphic novels/comics. i overcame that by rereading 'good omens' by my homeboy neil gaiman. i think tonight i will begin rereading 'american gods' by the same brilliant mind.

i'm typically very antsy and don't like to stay in one situation for too long, but for some reason when it comes to appreciating arts, i fear the unknown. i will read and reread and reread and reread the same book. when choosing a movie from the 'watch instantly' section of netflix, i almost always rewatch something i've seen. i've watched every episode of the first few seasons of the american office at least three times. i've blogged before about how i am stuck in 90s indie rock fandom.

blah blah blah i'm just procrastinating brain exercises.

also, does this photo/caption combo, spotted in yesterday's usa today by jeff, make anyone else LOL/cry inside?

never a dull moment 'round here

2009-12-07T20:21:00.000-08:00

'excuse me ma'am, i stay at a nursing home. can you spare a quarter?'

what's that? you have a roof over your head, three meals a day and you can play board games all day? sure, you deserve my quarter more than that homeless-looking dude in the purple sweatpants and the huge grey dreadlocks that spends all day everyday standing on the west side of the grocery store watching the cars.

the trib ran an article recently about my 'hood:

... the lakefront communities of Uptown and Edgewater, which contain the state's densest concentration of mentally ill and criminal nursing home residents, a Tribune analysis of recent data from the Illinois Department of Public Health found.

though it gets old having to deal with some of the nursing home residents when they come into the coffee shop and it is incredibly depressing to walk past somerset place and see the milieu puffing away on their cigarettes and swishers sweets, i can't imagine living in a less 'colorful' neighborhood.

there are a lot of normals up here, too. not everyone is begging quarters and preaching jesus love into a dead microphone on street corners. and the normals are totally normal. i've had brief flashes of desire of living further south and/or west to be nearer to live music. then i think about the types that live around there.

i am not a big fan of my demographic. i tend to lean toward older dudes for friends. i'll take david (somerset resident) asking me for a cookie over living among unshowered ironically-bad-fashioned 20-something children any day.

magnet in my head

2009-12-06T21:20:00.000-08:00

i was born ten years too late.

all evening i've been trying to write a blog post about all the cool handyman things i've been learning since we took over the coffee shop and i've been trying to write responses to the blogs of worthy humans, but i am way too scatterbrained and distracted.

i keep watching/listening to youtube music videos. i have little interest in keeping up with stupid flash-in-the-pan bands of today. so instead i watch live footage from the 90s of bands i was too young and naive to even know existed until i had internets and music chat rooms.

this song melts my soul:

this song makes my whole self want to melt (the visual comes in once the song kicks in):

well, i don't want to get bogged down in too many videos. no one ever watches them. what are your top three soul-melting tunes of the moment?

wtf?

2009-12-06T06:23:00.001-08:00

via

i can't sing it strong enough

2009-12-02T20:26:00.000-08:00

OMG I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU!

srsly. i already had one thing on the blog burner from lunch today, then i got home after a 13 hour day of TCOB (taking care of business) and found out that the ny senate said no to same-sex marraige. WTF?! in case you haven't been paying attention, here is what i think about homophobes and why i don't want to get married. oh, wait, i'm getting ahead of myself.

before i found out about jerks being jerks, i found this on my bed:

i thought brian, my thoughtful roommate, picked it up for me because it's about new media. nope. it was sent to me. i have never had a subscription to time out. i do not know how i have one now. if you are the kind soul who signed me up for this, lemme know. i'll repay you ;) the coolest part about this is the synchronicity that the first issue of time out ever sent to me is about new media!

ok. and here's what i really want to tell you about:

so, most of you that know me know that i do not eat fast food. there are a few reasons for this. one is the obvious: it is totes unhealthy. but that's not really the biggest reason, because jah knows i love me some sugary milk chocolate. that is totes unhealthy. one of the biggest reasons is that i don't want to give them my money. the reasons for that are for an entirely different blog post (that i will never write, but will gladly discuss with you IRL).

anyway, it's not a big deal. i try really hard to be choosy about which big corporations i give my money to. i'm not overbearing or preachy about it (i don't think, anyway. i don't really care what other people do, for the most part), it's just the way i do. i'd rather support independent companies, or at least corporations that kick ass. mcdonald's and burger king and taco bell do not kick ass.

today i asked jeff what we should do for lunch. "five-dollar footlong?" he said. i realized at that moment that i had never eaten a subway sub. in my 24 years of living in america, i hadn't done it. when i tell people i don't eat fast food they usually say, "well subway's not that bad!!" and then i have to explain that it's not only nutrition i'm concerned with. i kind of think subway is sort of evil. but staying on topic, i said "sure." a sandwich sounded great. i was hungry, it was almost 2 and i hadn't eaten since 7ish.

guess how much my five-dollar footlong cost?

JUST SHY OF TEN DOLLARS.

so bogus. ok, so i did the add a drink and chips for $2 thing, but still. i also added bacon for fifty-cent. whatever. jared, i'm over your stupid diet.

i can get a damn good banh mi sandwich at ba-le and a can of diet coke for under $6 and it is money much better spent than at subway. also, the food is waaayyy better. my sandwich wasn't even that good (partly because i didn't really know how to order and i was scared. raul, my 'sandwich artist,' also had a distracting half-moustache).

ahhh...i'm glad to have gotten that off my chest.

in other news, does anyone want to come over and clean my room and do my laundry and catch up on the internets for me? i'm too tiiiiiiired.

where did that come from

2009-11-27T20:52:00.000-08:00

something odd happened today. i was standing on a ladder, removing two years (at least, i'd imagine) worth of dust from the blades of a ceiling fan. and a feeling i've not known for some time washed over me. i was scared. scared of falling. scared to look up, scared to look down, terrified as i extended my left arm behind me to brace myself against the brick wall.

i used to be not too fond of heights when i was a little girl. my stepfather always liked to tease me that something was "higher than uncle ken's shoulders." this convinced me that i was afraid of heights. it goes back to a time that my uncle ken (the husband of my stepfather's sister ... a new relative to me at the time) picked my 6-year-old body up and put me on his shoulders at a family gathering. i started crying because i was scared. i guess it never occurred to my parents that it wasn't the height that frightened me, but the fact that a not-very-well-known-to-me man was lifting me up high and i didn't really trust him. also, when you're only 3.5 feet tall, 6.5 feet is a long way off the ground.

anyway, so i'm standing on this ladder today and i didn't know what to do. i was struck with fear and discomfort and i had no choice but to finish the job at hand and get the hell down from that ladder.

how and why do fears manifest out of nowhere? i'm not afraid of heights and i'm not afraid of ladders but now i am dreading the next time i will have to climb those metal rungs. is it because i was alone in the coffee shop? because i was distracted by some stupid thoughts? are fears like allergies, arising at anytime, provoked or no?

the "uncle ken" anecdote made me learn my fear of heights. i was told it was the fact that i was up high that i was scared, not that it was a natural feeling of distrust for my life to be in the hands of a strange man (uncle ken is a great guy, btw. but i didn't know that then). over time i realized that i'm not afraid of heights. i think this went hand-in-hand with being more confident in myself and feeling that i had control over myself.

am i losing self-control? am i losing confidence? quite the contrary, i'd say. so why did this terrible feeling sweep over me this afternoon?

come to think of it, maybe it was the remnants of a hangover: light-headed, slightly nauseous, just wanted to be anywhere-but-where-i-was. wanted to disintegrate, really. i guess i'll find out next time i make the big climb.

lookin' is free

2009-11-25T22:05:00.000-08:00

this year's thanksgiving day will be infinitely more happy than last year's (i'm speaking only for myself here). last year i worked at the coffee shop and then went home and sat by myself. the plan was to watch as much mr. show with bob and david as possible but i couldn't figure out how to get the dvd player to work (i had recently moved into the apartment and was just beginning to feel at home there).

instead i cried, i blogged, and i didn't talk to any family members.

enough sob stories. this year brian and i are having friends over (mostly his friends, but i have two of my favorites coming). i will be documenting the day, but there will be a lot of wine, so chances are i will not have enough good footage to make a video.

here's what i'm feeling thankful for tonight, after 1.5 glasses of wine (thanks, brian!):

thanksgiving vlog from ally brisbin on Vimeo.

in the cold november rain

2009-11-24T22:02:00.000-08:00

ok, this craziness about rupert murdoch removing articles from google is too much for me. he wants to make bing the only search engine in which the wall street journal, new york post and the london times show up.

supposedly it's about money and ad revenue, things i don't like thinking about. things that help the news industry keep chugging along, while eroding the quality of the content.

what it actually is, though, is detrimental to the democratic nature of the internet! google searches will turn up left-leaning results and bing searches will turn up right-leaning and left-leaning results. i know that newscorp publications aren't the only conservative-leaning publications out there and they certainly aren't the most right-leaning, but in terms of mainstream media, they are pretty huge. i like google. i like-like google. i am dependent on google. but now my results will be more biased. granted, they will be biased in the way that i am biased, but that will do nothing to open my mind to other perspectives.

"but ally, you can always use bing to perform your internet searches now"

shut up! i don't want to! i use google for everything! i'm not going to switch to bing! what the hell kind of name is "bing" anyway? google is smart because it is like googol, a huge number. bing is a character's last name on a 90s sitcom.

also, i don't like this politicization of search engines. argh. i fear what lies ahead.

it is important to have easy access to lots of different viewpoints. sure, we naturally gravitate toward those that match our own, but what is important is that there are options. c'mon rupes. what are you doing? you are breaking the internets!!

i believe i will never leave

2009-11-22T22:48:00.001-08:00

this is the face of a business owner:

after snapping this sex pot shot, i scrubbed our exposed brick. then i scrubbed it with a vinegar-soaked brush. yes, afterwards i smelled as good as i looked. tomorrow i will seal the brick walls with some kind of chemical glop. mortar will not crumble into coffee.

i've been wearing (the same) stupid pants everyday since that post:

this is the face of a nearly-completed-with-her-first-semester-of-grad-school woman:

this shirt was given to me by a friend who said "i want to see that on your blog." will z, i hope you're still tuned in.

in other news, anyone in the chicago area without a place to dine on Thanksgiving or seeking respite, wine and frivolity after family gatherings, please come over. we are hosting a feast and i want you here. all of you. even people not in chicago.

synchronicity-wise, here's something: i had a dream last night about collaborating on a project with alicia, brother paul's woman. in the dream, i wasn't crazy about the font she used but i realized that it actually kind of worked. it just wasn't something i would have chosen. today, i got an e-mail from jenna, brother jeff's woman, with the logo she has been working on for the cafe. is that synchronicity? mixing up my sisters in law?

i think i'm starting to slack in the synchronicity department. it doesn't bother me much, does it bother y'all?

just in general

2009-11-20T18:30:00.000-08:00

is there anyone in your life that seems to never be fully listening to what you're saying? okay, 'never' is an exaggeration. but often, they seem to only be half-listening. and then you find out in the future when you refer to something you've told them that they were listening. probably half-listening, but listening nonetheless. but you still wonder why you say anything to them at all?

and then you meet someone and you are talking to them and telling them things because you just met them and they are giving you full attention and you're like, 'huh? why is this person so attentive?'

and then you feel all conflicted about what an interpersonal interaction should be and so you go home and get on the internet where it is safe to wear no pants and speak your mind freely behind the guise of a username and resolve to never make a new IRL friend again.

then you wake up (hungover because you were boozing because the internet can get lonely on a friday night) and you're like 'omg who did i email last night? what did i write on the facebook? really!? i blogged seven times between my three active blogs? wanna die.' then you get over it and hang out with people that listen to you and people that half-listen to you and people that tell you to shut up because they don't want to hear you and you remember that real life is the original internet. retro.

rebuilding begins

2009-11-15T21:23:00.000-08:00

i fear i'm going to lose my audience with all these posts about real things and not about my emotions. you guys still reading?

anyway, hang on tight and watch my latest vlog. it's the first in a series of me exploring why i love men so much:

ovarian oration from ally brisbin on Vimeo.

this is what was going on 365 days ago. there's your frivolity for the day.

mom!!! i think i'm ...

2009-11-14T20:47:00.000-08:00

when i was rereading my previous post, i realized how this whole issue is a great advertisement for homosexual relations.

gay people having sex don't make babies. therefore they don't need birth control (that is not to say they don't need protection against icky infections) and they certainly have no need for abortion. luckies!!!

but many of these politicians who fear sex in the name of having some fun and expressing love physically and feeding an animalistic craving also fear gays. homophobia is something i'll never be able to understand. i can name it when i see it, no matter how veiled, but i will never be able to sympathize. sometimes i think it is repressed homosexual tendencies. sometimes i think it is pure jealousy: seeing people that are in love while being unhappy with one's own current romantic situation (or lackthereof).

every day i get closer and closer to deciding for sure that i will not ever get married. SOLIDARITY. i kind of consider myself gay even though i'm pretty hetero. maybe i'm "queer" (that's what my sister calls me)? i dunno -- i try not to get bogged down in labels (something the LGBTQ community loves).

i believe in love. and i believe it can last forever without the state recognizing it. the state has nothing to do with me and my soulmate (WHERE ARE YOU DUDE?!).

tlc edition

2009-11-13T17:27:00.000-08:00

i don't take birth control. never have, never will. i have no interest in putting extra hormones into my body. while i also have no interest in putting any babies into my body, i use other methods to not get pregnant. i don't push this decision on anyone else, even though i wish that no woman would take birth control pills.

at the end of the day, we are each in control of our own bodies and no one should tell you what to do with yours. likewise, no one should tell you what you shouldn't do with yours.

remember i blogged about actions speaking louder than confusing words? well our trusty government is doing what they shouldn't with their actions.

this article is awesome. you should read it. it's about how birth control is not to be covered under the current version of the health reform bill. while i don't want any freaky extra estrogen up in my blood, i believe that women who prefer to gain weight and take nature out of their periods should have the right to do so. and they have the right to get help doing so. i'd prefer that to extra unwanted screaming rugrats taking up my (and your) oxygen.

oh, and you know how they're trying to pass a version of the health reform bill that doesn't support abortion? guess what, dummies? if you encourage birth control, less people will get abortions because they'll be all clogged up with pills (that's how it works, right?)!

why is everyone still afraid of sex? everyone has their horror stories, sure, but on the whole it's a good thing. people have sex. sex makes babies. sometimes babies aren't what is needed. it is okay to have sex for pleasure. in fact, i think babies are never needed. we should all be sterilized for like 30 years. so many babies out there that are abused and neglected and hungry and sick. why make more? let's make something good happen for those ones first.

didn't wear a skirt!

2009-11-11T19:48:00.000-08:00

after jeff pointed out that maybe i shouldn't wear a skirt when we're doing dirty work, i gave jeans a whirl. i guess my legs were more protected, but i was less comfortable. i'll probably wear them again tomorrow, in order to better express on the outside the latent butch within.

"i can't stop" now a kitchen synch feature

2009-11-10T21:34:00.000-08:00

because i'm terrible at maintaining more than one blog, i decided to incorporate i can't stop into kitchen synch as a feature (ala favorite shirts and vlogging is blogging).

loving my life.

i'm serious.

all of a sudden everything is perfect. on my run tonight, i was thinking about it and realized that there is no bad aspect to my day-to-day. i spend daytime working on an awesome project with an awesome friend receiving lots of loving support from family and friends. i spend nighttime working on school work (and blogging) that interests me and makes me excited about the times we're livin' in.

sometimes i can fit an exhilarating nighttime run in there somewhere.

i am just happy right now and i don't think that's going to change anytime soon. and it's weird to think back to where i was emotionally at this time last year. it's also great because i have found a really nice home here in chicago and i have found a really nice Self here in chicago.

tonight i made mySelf (via dasein) a really nice white russian here in chicago.

shut up

2009-11-09T23:17:00.001-08:00

i think i'm a pretty good communicator. i was voted "most talkative" twice in the yearbook (told many times over it was a synonym for "most annoying," a title i hope i've outgrown).

yesterday, though, i had two instances of finding out that people did not understand my message at all. unpleasant synchronicity. i'm not sure if it's synchronicity, actually.

one instance wasn't really a big deal, more a blow to my joke-making-ego. sarcasm is hard to decipher when you hardly know someone and they are writing to you rather than speaking. the other instance was confusing, mostly because it was seemingly unprovoked by my words, but by my actions.

i have this whole thing about actions telling more than words (you've heard the aphorism, i'm sure). true, i am guilty of analyzing every word spoken/written/sang/telepathed to me until it has disintegrated and is no longer in the lexicon. but the actions surrounding the words are more telling than the words themselves. because even the transmission of the words from speaker to me is an action and sends a message of its own beyond the message of the words spoken. intentions are so important and often implicit.

all i'm saying is i have been illuminated to the fact that i am not nearly as expressive as i thought myself to be. either that or i'm trying to express myself to the wrong people. it's so tough to figure out what the universe is telling you.

i know that a huge part of my self-expression (via writing) is stifled by my tendency to get too used to my thoughts and to get kind of sick of thinking them. so when i go to write something i glaze over details because they seem redundant to me but they are actually really necessary for others to understand me. blah blah blah i'm already sick of this.

at least my brothers (familial and friendly) get me.

are you guys closed?

2009-11-08T18:16:00.000-08:00

life update:

jeff and i are in full swing getting things ready for the coffee shop. we're closed for about a month while we put all the pieces in place. then it's on, bitches!

meanwhile, my school semester is wrapping up and i have a few projects to complete. that means i will have less time to devote to unravelling life's mysteries and complaining about feelings and broadcasting my cycle and posting self-indulgent multimedia.

i'm sorry. i'm not neglecting you. i'm always a phone call away.

i hope to blog soon about how i just want everyone to keep their laws off my body.

tonight in grad school

2009-11-05T22:33:00.000-08:00

... i learned that i am a camwhore.

well, according to my prof's definition. which differs from wikipedia's. i like prof's def better.

either way, why do i post pics of myself all the time? i blame this webcam staring me in the face.

anyway ... 40Gs teaching me new things about myself every day!!! NO REGRETS.

heart is made of gravy

2009-11-02T20:16:00.000-08:00

i feel as though this huge tumor of stress and anxiety and looming depression has been removed from my brain and i don't know why. don't get me wrong, i'm feelin' good and have lots of good feelin's, but i am also on the brink of something major and i should be petrified. instead i'm totally pumped and positive that jeff and i are champions and will rule berwyn avenue in no time.

thursday was a day of self-loathing and depression unknown since like 10 months ago or something. don't know why but it was. then friday something major took place (don't want to jinx an already jinxy situation, but things is movin' along on the business front!) and my attitude changed somehow.

i have four days left at my internship. i think this is a big part of my sudden joy: knowing there is an end in sight to my cubicle-bound days.

tonight i left class giddy. i love when that happens. it validates my decision to do grad school. i was placed with fun peoples for a group project about VLOGGING!!! if i never use my degree in a professional manner, i will not care.

then i went to jewel because momma was hungry and i found a new food obsession: asiago garlic salad dressing. add this to a pile of spinach, a packet of tuna, some fresh ground black tellicherry and a dash or two of valentino, and have a tongue 0rg@$mmmm. i ate half my salad before i even sat down in this chair (now i reveal to my fans that i dine at my desk, and that all i know how to cook is cold food that doesn't require cooking. pathetic? probably.):

anyway, enough about me. how are you?

UPDATE: full moon last night and today. no wonder the good feelings and powerful circumstances!!! also, i don't know why i referred to myself as momma in that paragraph up there, but i did it and i have to face reality. no scrubbing in this post!!

!!!1!!a;ldjfie!!!!

2009-10-30T21:21:00.000-07:00

details to follow.

h8h8h8h8h8h8h8

2009-10-29T20:05:00.001-07:00

omg. whatever you do, don't listen to music you listened to when you were depressed in high school/freshman year of terrible college.

it will make you depressed. and hate yourself. and you won't be able to stop listening to it because it hurts so good.

i feel safe blaming modest mouse's "the lonesome crowded west" and "interstate 8" for my spontaneous combustions today. nothin' to do with hormones or true self-loathing or any other stupid white-plight problem other idiots my age have.

this week i've just been listening to these dudes and last night i was doing that while laying in bed, falling asleep, and some stupid song made me remember being heartbroken by some idiot who only liked me as a friend (story of my life, right ladies???). i got really sad and then someone came into my room and i had to play it cool and here i am feeling like sh!t again today.

what-ever, life. stop giving me emotions.

speak in translation so you can understand

2009-10-27T17:25:00.000-07:00

i'm a huge supporter of silence.

yes, i'm a loquacious lady, but i (usually) know when to keep my mouth shut. i think it's awesome when you can spend time with someone and not have a word spoken for a while and it isn't awkward and neither party feels compelled to force conversation. i think it's really beautiful to be alone with your thoughts in the presence of someone you dig -- the first time it happens is always a breakthrough for me. that's how i know there is a connection.

in a book i read recently about a relationship between a man and a woman, the man (narrator) was describing the early, lovesick days of their courtship and said, "comfortable silences, at worst." ahh ... that is perfect. that is exactly how i'd like to sum up what i think is beautiful in close interpersonal relationships: comfortable silences.

i was sitting here trying to write and couldn't think of anything (which is nuts because i feel that my mind has been on hyperdrive for the last couple days) and was worried that it might be bad that i have nothing to say to myself. it's one thing to have nothing to say to another human, but it seemed bad for a moment to not have anything to say to myself. it felt awkward and everything i wrote was forced conversation.

although i was on the phone a little while ago with someone who said they don't want to be around themself (gender neutrality!), and i'm thinking it's better that i'm in a state of mind where i just have nothing to say than not wanting to even be inside my skin. because those days suck.

HA! i totally one-upped you, dude! I WIN!!!1!

why so scrappy?

2009-10-23T23:47:00.000-07:00

if i want to be honest (i do), there are at least two moments a week when i look into the mirror and think "what?! really?!! that's me?!"

i imagine everyone has these moments. if i want to be brutally honest, i'll admit that there was a period of my life when i thought that every single time i gazed upon my reflection. sometimes because i looked stupid, and sometimes because i didn't feel real (too deep to get into now. that was some real angst $h!+).

after returning home from a night in wrigleyville (srsly. we went out in wrigleyville.), i went to wash up for bed and could not believe my raggedy appearance. i've already blogged about my holey-ness and my favorite t!tty-f@g has told me more than once how he likes the holes in my armpits, but i am still struggling with why i can't stop wearing rags.

is it a lack of self-respect? is it a nod to anti-consumerism? is it an attempt at irony when i'm droppin' madd dough at annoying bro-bars? is it because i'm lazy and pretend in my brain that there aren't holes in these things (i think so)?

contrary to what these photos might have you believe, i do look in the mirror before leaving the house. and i usually make an attempt, however weak, at looking as presentable as i'm feeling.

this milwaukee county zoo shirt is totes my favorite shirt these days.

on a related note, i'm accepting applications for sugar daddies (or mommies?) that would like to take me shopping. i'm a thrifty gal, don't worry.

vlogging about vlogging

2009-10-19T22:10:00.001-07:00

vlogging about vlogging from ally brisbin on Vimeo.

please ignore my pasty complexion and baggy eyes. please forgive me for being so caught up in blogging about process and creative constipation. things will get better soon, i just know it.

enjoy!

also, does anyone know what the word is for doing something to make a statement about doing that something? like writing about writing or singing about singing or painting about painting or vlogging about vlogging? isn't there a word for that?

winner gets one free hug.

ally.livejournal.com

2009-10-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

increased introspection leads to actions and inactions worth regret and praise and i'm always conflicted over which goes with which.

i had an epiphany recently that seemed so dumb because it was so obvious but it's always the obvious that eludes us, right? i realized that all i am ever seeking, all i am ever reaching for is a connection. that's why i dig synchronicity so much -- it's all about connections. sometimes i reach too far. i over-extend and the thing i'm reaching for is on a different plane completely and i'll never get it anyway. and then sometimes the connection gets interrupted and i lose faith and then it gets patched and then i have to reconnect with my faith and it gets too complicated and tangled and it is never the same, really.

sometimes i talk in circles because it's so much easier to not say what you mean than to just get to the meat of it and tell the world how much you love it.

and i do believe that action is where truth lies and that words are fallacies upon fallacies upon phalluses (say it like fallacies). but fallacies and phalluses (say it like fallacies) make the world go 'round and have you ever heard me complain about either?

'motion is medicine,' he said and i think about it and i think about it and i think about it and he's right.

and it always comes back to thinking about it but thinking about it doesn't do it and when there is no thinking there is Being and the Being overwhelms and i want to smack you for making it so; for distracting my thought. and the thirst for violence leads to introspection and that leads to action and inaction worth regret and praise and i'm always conflicted over which goes with which.