Jess in Berlin

the human condition

2011-11-21T13:46:00.000-08:00

The human condition is an enigma. Being human is certainly strange, but being a woman is surely just as strange. It's weird how female hormones can have such an effect on a woman's emotional state. I say this because I'm saddened, since last night and into the next afternoon (and it hasn't left me yet) and with that sadness comes a sense of feeling sorry for myself. There's a tiny voice that is trying to get through, "get over it" the voice says, "there is other sadness in the world that is far greater than yours." It's true; there's a lot of messed up shit in the world. Wars, uprisings, torture, peaceful protesters getting pepper spray to the face (and as horrendous as it seems, this is mild in comparison). So who am I to feel upset for myself?

Before I started in with my monologue (it's short, don't worry), I just wanted to first try to step outside of my situation and recognize something other than myself. A plea, a gesture, to the rest of the world, to those out there who are saddened by something too. My sadness might be small in the grand scale of sadness, and fleeting too, but it is just as valid. These things happening around the world, happening to people both similar and dissimilar to me, should be acknowledged first.

But now it's my turn. Call it crazy, and believe me I realize it pretty much is, I am sad for a future that hasn't been invented yet. I am sad for the possibility that my life will flash by in a blink of an eye and that I will look back with a furrowed brow and a clouded gaze. With regret over making the wrong choices -- choices that really matter, like choosing a partner or choosing the wrong one, like having (or not having) children. Will I choose to be brave? In the end will I be proud? I realize the only way to know is to stay in the game long enough to find out. Preferably with the minimal amount of sadness possible.

2011-07-01T11:53:00.001-07:00

Going to see them on August 5th!!! Yeahhhhhhh!

Tuesday June 28th

2011-06-28T15:02:00.000-07:00

It's June 28th and it's a tuesday. It's 3:04 pm in the afternoon and this is the way I will start my post, for lack of anything better to say. Not in a negative way. In a clear way. Like, a clear-minded, clear-headed, no crap to get in the way of really feeling something kind of way. I feel fresh and uncluttered. Unlike the sky.

In my kitchen the windows are wide open and outside there is a blanket of clouds draped over the sky; they are gray, and bright. The clouds are leaking copious amounts of water as I write, and every so often they open up with a streak of light stabbing through and then a booming roar. The sky is angry today. And sad.

But I have a smile on my face, a happy purple orchid to my left, low-fi minimal electro-ish stuff on the stereo, and a bowl of delicious strawberries my mother gave me in a bowl on the table.

This is my practice writing session. This is to force myself to write, write about nothing, write about a tiny block of time in my day where I'm all alone and it feels like freedom. This is when I know I should just write something, anything, for the sake of doing it. The day and the rain feel like magic. I smell verbena. The smile stays.

I love these huge old trees outside my window. This must be the best kitchen at town right now.

It's 3:12 and I work at six. It took me eight minutes to get here from when I started and I have almost three hours until I work. That's enough time to get into some trouble. Or take a nap. Options are a beautiful thing, aren't they?

Cover letter for Editor Position at Living Social

2011-06-23T22:56:00.001-07:00

Remember when I said I wanted to write again? Well I think it's starting to happen. I don't want to say it's pouring out of me... but there's a leak. There's definitely a leak. And it's getting bigger.

I wrote a cover letter today for a position in San Francisco with the Website Living Social. It's basically a website that offers a bunch of awesome deals on a bunch of awesome things, and I want to write for them. Over the next couple of days I plan on applying; you need a cover letter, a resume, and a couple writing "tests." Here is my cover letter, tell me what you think:

Dear folks at Living Social,

Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!

Whoa, sorry about that! There’s that darn enthusiasm again; it gets the best of me, every time. In all actuality, and to the surprise of those around me, I often have trouble containing it. I bet you might have had a similar thought. In fact, I bet you’re asking yourself right now, “was that really her lead sentence?? Did those words actually just tumble out of her head, bounce off of her keyboard and hop into this document? Is this cover letter for real???" It's for real, alright, you better believe it. And if you don’t mind, I think I’ll back up a second, take a deep breath, and start over.

Ahem.

To whom it may concern,

While perusing the Living Social website for daily deals on some delicious grub, bitchin’ summer swag and affordable salon services (my psuedo 80’s asymmetrical Flock of Seagulls haircut is quickly growing into an unsightly mess and desperately needs a mow), I noticed that there is currently an opening for an Assistant Editor in the San Francisco branch. Please don’t think of it as an overdramatic understatement when I whisper in your ear how much I want this opportunity to write for your website.

Much like a goldfish stuck in a tiny bowl, I can assure you that I have grown beyond the confines of this quaint little city I lovingly like to refer to as the ‘mento. I’m ready to break out and explore bigger ponds, swim with the big guys. I want to live in San Francisco and write for an awesome website that is chock full of amazing deals. Bargain hunting runs in my marrow; whether it’s sifting through old LPs in the Mission’s Thrift Town, scouring the Berkeley flea market for vintage Laurel Burch earrings for my mother, or rummaging through the dumpsters behind Sacramento’s Wonder Bread factory, I am a scavenger. Much like Living Social, I am always looking for the next deal, and much like Living Social, I am always telling all my friends about it.

I would be honored to be like you, living and loving and bargain hunting (and bargain catching) and writing about such sweet deals in San Francisco. I want to learn how to master the art of driving a stick shift on a 70 degree incline. I want to wear big baggy woolen sweaters all year long, have a picnic in Golden Gate park, watch the sun drop into the western sky, just below the golden gate bridge at China Beach. I want it all and I am ready.

I hope you are ready for me as well.

Thank you for humoring me and especially for your time.

Sincerely,

Jessica xxxxxx
Writer at heart, waitress by night, nomad by choice, human above everything else.

hit me and i'll hit you back

2011-06-23T19:07:00.000-07:00

"The thing that gets me about relationships is how far down they can go and with such a quickness."

Is what I just wrote for my Facebook status. Should I have gone there? Well, I did. I went there anyway.

I'm going to go outside and ride my bike now.

And I'll probably continue to listen yet another amazing album by Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest. My friend Trevor Caldwell from New York sorta knows some of these guys. Here's a little snippet for you (and it's not even the best track on there):

life plans

2011-06-23T01:26:00.000-07:00

Do you know what a cupie doll is? It's a tiny little plastic cherub doll with a little curly cue strand of hair plopped on the top of it's head; arms stretched out from it's sides as if it's about to give you a tiny plastic hug, fingers fanned, spine long and straight, eyes facing forward, placid.

My ex and I used to hide one, for the other to find, as a game. We would put it in strange places; the fridge, the microwave, on top of the shower doors, nestled amongst the green fronds of a fern. Today I walked outside and saw it on my porch.

I don't know how long it's been since I got of this relationship but I know it hasn't been too long.I know it hasn't been too long but I know it's been long enough to start taking steps forward. Hell, I'm running. I also know that this time I'm not going back. It's like a sad, bad 80s song - one that starts slowing down and getting quieter toward the end, but that ends up turning around when it's almost at a dead stop and bolting. I am looking forward, not looking back, scared to death of what might happen if I stop to turn around. Just imagine it like that nasty clown from Stephen King's It is back there and means business.

We were together in total almost 2 years. 2 more years, gone. That's the reality of the situation, isn't it? I won't say that I didn't learn anything from that time, of course I won't say that. If you were to ask me right now, what did you learn, what would I say? That's important to know. Let's see... I learned that love is not enough, and I learned the sadness of having to give up something you do love because it's failed. We tried really hard, both of us, but there were bigger issues that first needed to be dealt with. I'm ok with that. I just had to draw the line somewhere.

I'm trying to hold my head up high, as I write this. 2 years is a nice big chunk of time. I'm 31. It would be a lie if I said that I'm beginning to wonder, so I'll say I'll continue to wonder, because I have been, wondering, that is. What am I doing with my life?

I know I need to move into a direction, but which one? So, yes, of course I've traveled, I've even lived abroad for a year, ya know? I currently live in the same city I grew up in, albeit, I grew up in a 'burb and I'm now in the heart of midtown. I've lived down here for just about 2 years. I'm afraid the fun is starting to wear out. I work at a restaurant yet I have a Bachelor's Degree. I can tell myself that it doesn't matter what you do as long as you're happy until I'm blue in the face (and don't get me wrong, I still mean it) but maybe I'd be happier, feel more fulfilled, if I was somewhere else, doing something else. Luckily, I have some thoughts on the matter. My two ideas are this (I'm sorry Ines):

1. Teach English in Taiwan or
2. Get an interesting writing job in San Francisco.

Notice how Berlin didn't make the cut? I think I might like to check somewhere else out.

I saw that a website called Living Social is hiring writer's in the San Francisco area. Do you think I could use my blog to show off my writing skills? (cough! cough! hack!) Or maybe I should just get out that old portfolio of those clips and blow off the dust. Either rate, I'm practicing, and it feels good.

2011-06-09T23:50:00.000-07:00

I want to write again so I'm going to sit down and force myself to do it. I want to write again because I know how cathartic it can be for a person, for me. I want to write again because I get sick of the stagnance that has overtaken my life lately. I want to write again because I miss the feeling of a keyboard under my fingers and the solitude that is my quiet self-made sanctuary. I want to write again because I can feel the desperation swelling and building inside of me as my chest rises and falls and my breaths become deeper and panicked and I want to try and avoid this. I'll write about all the reasons why I want to write but I won't actually do it. Screw it, I suppose this is a start.

It's been a year. It's been over a year. It's been at least a good half a year that I even typed my blog address into the browser. It's been one year two months and 27 days since I last wrote something. Ok, so I wrote shopping lists and short emails and facebook status updates but it's been one year two months and 27 days since I last wrote something. How amazing is that? What the hell happened to me?

I'm warming up a little now. I'm talking now about my non-writing phase - shall we call it a dry spell? It was in ways; it was a creativity dry spell. I'm certain of it. I got good at ignoring the blog. Hell I even got good at blocking it out entirely. I was dealing with other stuff. Relationship stuff, if you must know. Relationship stuff that was assumedly blocking my creative juices. This is really the only conclusion that I can come to. The relationship was like fat and chemical residue buildup crap (or whatever the hell gets stuck in those little tubes) clogging your coronary artery. Pretty soon I needed a bypass. (and stop. pause for 6 minutes).

6 minutes later...

Too much personal stuff grinds my fingers to a halt. Maybe it makes me think too hard, so I sit here and stare at the screen and read and re-read the words and just stop. I just stop and sit here and I'm almost certain it's over. The juices are dry. The motor has stopped. It was very hard to restart. I was very close to saving the entry and turning off the laptop and resuming the movie that I had just started before I switched gears and turned on the computer. But then I think, "I am going to make myself write." And I remind myself that it doesn't have to be about personal stuff, it doesn't have to be about anything, it just needs to be. So I will steer this in a different direction for now and finally relay the thought that kick started this whole entry.

I saw today on Facebook that a friend of mine from high school is going to Seoul, Korea, to teach English. She leaves Sunday. There must come a point in my life where I do this. Not necessarily teach English in Seoul, South Korea, but teach English overseas somewhere. It's been something I've been wanting to do for quite a long time, and I'm sure I've mentioned it here a few times. I first started thinking seriously about going to Korea (that was with an ex), then it was Taiwan (that was with another ex), but the truth is, I don't really care where I go, I just want to go. And I want to go alone. I know I will dig it.

I better get on that though, I'm 31! Where does the time go?

Is there anything that you know you have to do in your life? You're just so certain that you must do it, and you're so sure that if you don't, you will regret it for the rest of your life? Maybe this sounds silly, but where some might say having children or getting married, I say teach English abroad. I think it's that thing that I have to do. Does that sound weird to you? I guess in all actuality, it doesn't really even matter how it sounds to you, does it? Nike was right. Just do it.

Sometimes when I'm bored...

2010-03-13T15:24:00.000-08:00

I visit my blog and read about the things I was thinking about in days past. Sometimes I hit the "next blog" button at the top of the screen; I usually don't find anything worth reading. Today, though, as I was revisiting my (admittedly neglected) blog, I hit that button and found this: http://pillowtalkisextra.blogspot.com/

It's pretty cool, written by a young 20-something gal in New York City. Hers is a much more personal blog, and many entries deal with men and the problems that come with them, but I like her writing. It's snappy. Kinda like how I think about my own. There's no photo associated with the blog, but given the subject matter, I can understand why she would value her anonymity.

So I read other people's blogs, but I don't keep up with my own. In past entries, I spoke so much of projects, this website that I was going to build, the idea that I could create an awesome space for people to communicate about conscious travel. Sadly, It's still not formed into anything. It makes me feel like I've failed myself. It reminds me of what I need to be doing right now, what I should have been doing for a while. I don't like this feeling of guilt, self guilt. I haven't really let anyone down except for myself. So I don't know if that's better or worse than letting down another person.

I should be devoting more time to building websites, finishing projects, and helping my family. My father has all this radio equipment gathering dust in the garage on the property they own. Some of it's pretty valuable too, or at least could get a pretty price in an online auction. These are the things I need to do.

Usually writing helps me. It helps my thought process gather in one place, from a jumbled together pile in my brain to a linear, succinct story on a page. In note form. Do this, remember that, be grateful for this, and so on. The problem is, unlike Cleopatra Jones, the author (pseudonym, I can only assume) of the aforementioned pillow talk blog, I can't share with you what's really on my mind. It's relationship stuff. I guess that's all I can say.

I have figured out one thing, though, and I would like to share it. If you love something, let it go. Be gentle and don't hold on too tightly.

Happy Valentine's Day

2010-03-04T13:48:00.001-08:00

Hope ya'll got some. Enjoy, from my friend Patryk in Berlin.

Jury Duty

2010-03-03T15:46:00.000-08:00

I got a letter in the mail from the city the other day calling me for jury duty. I'm supposed to report the the Sacramento Superior Court on Monday, March 15. Perhaps if I were older and retired with nothing better to do than reading crime mysteries, golfing on the weekend or knitting, I'd be into it. It might be interesting, a witness to our legal system at (dis)work.

Unfortunately, I need to keep working to pay the bills.

Crap. I need to get out of Jury Duty!

Dirty Thirty

2009-11-27T21:36:00.000-08:00

My 30th birthday is knocking at my door. It's right around the corner and about to bite me on my ass.

Monday I'll be 30, launching myself into my third decade as a human being on this planet. Perhaps for a lack of anything else to do and a little bit of time on my hands, I've decided I should dedicate a blog entry to the subject. It is, after all, a big deal, isn't it? Eh, I think not. It's just another day, the sun will rise and it will probably be chilly, a breeze might hang off the skeletal branches on the tree above our house, but it will set, and time will go on, and the day will pass and another will come. I'm not the only one with a birthday, and if anything, I should be celebrating my parents on that day.

I'm still here, which is nice. I think, all in all, I'm doing quite well. I feel I've been blessed so far, with family and friends and the things I love all gathered in heaps around me. I lucked out.

I'm back living in Sacramento, not downtown but in east Sac, where the trees are much prettier this time of year and you don't so often see derelicts rummaging through your garbage bins or hear the 2am bar crowd stumbling home drunk in the moonlight. Nothing against derelicts. I have a job and I'm making money. I'm keeping on top of my bills, not just barely but kinda almost.. My lifestyle is simple though, and I don't find myself wanting much, at least not in the material sense. I dream of travel but I'll always dream of that. Anyway, it's nice to dream of something.

Next year I'm planning on moving abroad again. I'll be honest and admit that I don't know where I'll end up or what I'll be doing, but I know one thing - I'll be gone. Chances are, I won't be going alone. I've found someone who also dreams, and, low and behold, dreams of very similar things. He's open to embracing mine and merging his to make an ours. Sweet! And just how long have I been looking for this??

Berlin is in the race, natürlich, but so is teaching English in Asia. Tawain sounds promising, as does Vietnam. For many of those jobs, only a Bachelor's degree is required, and often times, a salary accompanies room and board and sometimes a round trip flight.

Really, what else am I doing? Our economy is in the shitter; California's unemployment rate is nearing 20%, and I graduated college 6 years ago and work at a restaurant. It's not like I'm doing a whole hell of a lot here - really, the only thing keeping me in the area is my family. If I had a partner to run away to Europe or Asia for a couple of years, living the expat "poor but sexy" lifestyle, I'd be stoked as a mother trucker. Looks like this dream is on the verge of becoming a reality.

In 1544, a Portuguese ship sighted the main island of Taiwan and named it Ilha Formosa, or "Beautiful Island." Don't just take their word for it. See for yourself.

A change of scenery is always good, as is a new perspective. It scares me a little to think of going somewhere as far and as foreign as this little heavily colonized, tropical (yes, tropical!) economic superpower of an island off the southeast coast of China, but a little fear is good. Manageable, too, especially if I don't go alone.

So I'll be thirty on Monday and it should be good. Life, so far, has been good. The past is rosy and the future is bright. I've got my dreams, I've got my plans, I've really got nothing to complain about; only, perhaps, too few stamps on my passport.

spark

2009-10-28T23:33:00.000-07:00

It's funny, the connections we form with certain people, the lack of those that are never formed with others. How does one person, one day, strike you in the way a wooden match would when dragged across a brick fireplace, with such a spark and such an energy that they are forever imprinted in your mind? And depending on certain variables - the size of the spark, the voracity with which it was lit, and the length of time before the fire (when there was only darkness and it was cold) - the imprint grows. The connection strengthens. The purest, wildest of fires burn fast and with intensity. Chaotic.

I am drawn to the flames. I've stretched my arms out, palms facing away from me, and found the fire. It wasn't hard to find; I helped strike the match.

It's been warmer lately, and bright. Aren't these things supposed to start in the spring? Is it fitting that we found each other after the days have started shrinking and the sun's heat is at half mast and I need to put on my warmest socks and bundle my skinny body up into layers of thin clothing and burrow deep down into my double bed to escape the chill? You're there often, underneath the covers with me. That's when it gets hot enough for the clothes to come off.

And that will be my fall. The trees that line our streets will burn with orange and spark with gold and then fall will turn into winter. It will start getting wetter. The trees will shed their clothes too and the rain will come often. Piles of leaves will turn to mush and start to disintegrate, their energy seeping back into the vessel from which it came. It will get colder but I don't mind. I'll have you.

Eventually the sun will want come out and play, and so will the birds. The leaves will be picked up or become compost, now blackened with rot. Buds of green will burst open into reds and pinks and whites on the trees on our streets, and the water that runs off the mountains and down through our rivers will be warm enough to swim in. The same shades of green, and different ones too, will cover the landscape, from lawns to fields, and critters will stir in the ground and in the sky, their offspring falling out of nests or being eaten by predators or growing up to mate and have babies of their own.

Fires will ignite in the hills. We can find a cliff overlooking a valley, some electric orange ball of energy licking and engulfing and blazing below. We can stand there, bodies touching, and feel the heat.

Oh help me god I'm building a website!

2009-09-19T15:39:00.000-07:00

I'm about to wade through the choppy ocean waves of website development, chasing the idea that could quite lead to the manifestation of a tangible form of my dream, all the while gasping for breath and fighting off sharks, trying to stay afloat.

Welcome that to the world of creating a one-dimensional structure on the internet. Friends, I'm building a website. I've scoured the internet, or "the web," as the cool kids say, for a cozy little spot to burrow down inside of and nest for a while. Building. I thought of a name and bought it and am starting to construct.

The website I'm building is called The Conscious Nomad. It's true, there's nothing there yet but don't fear friends! Something will be there soon. In fact, I should tell you that I'm currently looking for writers, either travelers who write well, back-packers who blog, or writers who travel write. I'll take any submissions. Just think travel - but consciously. Look for the official invitation and more on the subject of conscious travel in the next blog, coming very soon.

But, in the beginning... There was the World-Wide-Web. That's a mouthful, for sure. So is WWW, really, and especially the way our ex-idiot-in-chief president used to pronounce the letter. Ah, the world-wide-web. Worldwide! Where would I be without you? You came into my life when I was just a young lass of 13. I would stay up way too late, using my father's computer to log in to CompuServe and chat with faceless humans all over the states. Mostly, we'd chat about music - Nirvana and Pearl Jam were the ones that I liked the most back then. Heck, Eddie Vedder circa 1993-1997 was a big topic for me. I had such a crush on him. Eddie, if you're out there, I'm available!! ;)

My relationship to the World Wide Web was indeed magical. World Wide Web, I fell in love with you then, a little bit. Ours was a co-dependent relationship - you liked the feel of human fingers on your buttons and I was absolutely enthralled by your endless possibilities. I'm still in love with you in, internet, and you're still as elusive and enigmatic as ever. A little bit like the Loch Ness monster. Just not as wet and chilly.

The internet is everywhere. It's vast, stunning. Stretching. Expanding to farther and farther slightly darkened corners of the earth. Hell, it's even finally working itself into Africa, broadband style, so that the dark continent will soon be lightened up a bit and can finally start inching it's way toward a level playing field to compete with the rest of the world upon.

It's everywhere. It's wireless signal is creeping slowly out of your home office and into the hallway, circling around your kitchen frigerator. It's crawling on the floor and into the dining room, slithering around your couch until up on the sofa and right in your face. The world-wide-web, much like Mr. Lovegrove, is ubiquitous, and it's getting bigger by the nano-second, fucking and multiplying like rabbits and their wretchedly cute offspring.

The Conscious Nomad is my new project and I'm finally dedicating time (not nearly enough, though) to it, like a poor little unattended baby. There, there, child, I'll come back to you soon. My problem is, I suppose, time management. I'm so fixated to living in the now that I let the now overtake me, leaving no breathing room for later. Maybe all this "be here now" mantra stuff I've adopted is reaching into my brain and taking hold of the frontal lobe or wherever it is that old Id of mine is located and sneaking up and shaking it's hand, helping the little Id on it's way. Perhaps this living in the now, care little about the future body of thought has gotten to be too easy to accept. I think that's why I'm trying to devote time to this project; this idea, this website, this realization that I can manifest something if I keep moving forward and try the best I can. I believe in this for everyone; being conscious that your situation is changeable, maliable, flexible. I don't want to hear excuses. Sometimes we can be in pretty deep; I realize that. But then we must make little changes here and there. They do make a difference.

I like the budhist way of living. I don't know a great deal about it but what I know I agree with and respect. I try to incorporate some of that tradition into my life; it just makes sense. The living in the now, the acceptance that perhaps this is all we have, this moment, and everything else doesn't exist. I don't mean to deduct importance from the past, or question the leviety of the future, but all I have for sure is right now.

I do have a tendency to ramble, don't I? What does that characteristic say about someone? (Rhetorical, of course). Back to the website. Having a project is important. Having goals are important. Having lists and being able to cross items off said list is important. That's what I'm trying to do; keep moving forward. Maybe I had felt a bit stagnant there for a while, and still feel a bit in limbo (do I stay in California? Do I go back to Berlin?) and, admittedly, always staying incredibly busy, but I'm discovering avenues to pursue that hopefully lead to forward motion and freedom. I just need to dedicate the appropriate amount of time to realizing these things.

Manifest. Don't forget it.

So I'm stoked. And I'm killing time, waiting for a conformation email to reach me from WordPress headquarters. And then I'll be off to start the process - which, at this point, will be downloading WordPress software on my computer and installing. Then I'll be off to build! So, if you'll excuse me, I must be running. It's time to kickstart the ignition and take off.

Google Fortune / Google Biz Kit is a SCAM

2009-09-13T15:21:00.000-07:00

And I just got taken.

For $1.97. But it could have easily been more. A link was sent to me via email from my father, who I trust. So I clicked and I read and I signed up. The website looked legit; a falsified site called The New York Gazette (which appears like a newspaper but in small print is written something like "not affiliated with any newspaper publication") and hypes up the product - a product that boasts that even children can work for home, do virtually nothing, pay virtually nothing, and make a shit load! What a deal! Well I totally fell for it. We must remember, kids, what dear old Grandmother used to say: If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.

End result: I've had to cancel my debit card. Shame, shame, shame on me for giving that site my number over the internet. Not a smart move. And of course that $1.97, which, for now, I'll deduct from my "that was a really stupid move" account.

Goodbye stranger

2009-09-03T20:19:00.000-07:00

Does everyone remember the drug dealer? I wrote a blog or two, two or three blogs back, about this gentleman. Well, sports fans, I've received news. He was allegedly recently arrested. On charges that I will refrain from mentioning at this point, not only because they make me feel very nauseas inside, but because the facts haven't been verified yet. Awesome. I sure know how to pick 'em, eh?

I did, however, call the Davis county jail yesterday and spoke with a very unfriendly, unhelpful woman who told me "well why don't you just ask him yourself" when I asked if she could look up if they his name on her inmate list. Thanks bitch. I was hoping that my questions would have been answered, will be answered. I would like to know if it is true. I would like to say it doesn't matter either way. But it does. Don't get me wrong, I'm still done with him, done with that situation, and hopefully done with dating crazy men in their mid-twenties, but I still want to know if it's true. It most likely is.

Gosh golly, I guess I'm a bit frustrated. Do I tell people, "Oh yeah, the last guy I dated is in jail on charges I would rather not discuss." Hmm? At least I was able to get out of that one before it went barreling off a cliff with me strapped inside, screaming and plummeting.

On a somewhat unrelated side note, I've decided to sign up for okcupid.com. (Remember I said I was frustrated?) Arghhh. Argh argh and double argh. Maybe signing up for - gulp - online dating will only further frustrate me. Yeah, online dating, friends. I'm going to try it out and see how it goes. Does it offer criminal background checks? It should! No, actually, to be honest, I had also just tried a 3 month trial membership on Match.com that ended as uneventfully as it started. I met - let's see - 1, 2, 3 guys from Match.com. Two were quite nice, just no sparks. One is now a peripheral friend. The third guy was not cool, definitely not cool, in a sorta pushy and almost grabby way. I got out of there as fast as I could muster.

Back to the facts. I'm single and I'm ready to mingle. Really! I'm not gonna lie about it. I'm a bad ass chick, too, let me tell you. And that's why I can post this sort of shit on my blog. I don't care what people think about me; I don't really care if ya like me or if you don't. I'm just me and I think that I'm a pretty chill chickadee. I'm trying to live my life in the most badass sort of way right now. Making every moment count, although still, in the back of my mind, dreaming about Europe, about Berlin. I can't wait to go back.

So I'm off to finish up my new okcupid.com profile - oh how I detest yet secretly kinda like those things - and start trolling for guys who are hopefully far from the troll type. Wish me luck.

Be here now.

2009-08-29T18:41:00.001-07:00

Well internet friends, I'm back! Back on the internet, back in a new place, back working for the man - possibly, about to lose my job - and back on the market again. Yes fellas, I'm single. Step right up.

Pretty cool, eh?

I wanted to send a near -end of summer shout out to all of you. August is almost done. The sun is slowly disappearing. Your trees will lose their foliage soon. It's sweater time, my friends.

Get ready. Hot cocoa and marshmellows by the fir- wait, what the heck, it's still summer! And I'm day-dreaming about winter! Remember kids, buddha says, "Be Here Now."

Now off with you.

Road Trip 09

2009-07-25T23:25:00.000-07:00

I'm going to San Diego tomorrow. Leaving right after work, driving down with Ashley and Katie in Ashley's black or so dark blue it looks black under moonlight early 2000 volvo. Tough as nails. Like a tank.

We're driving down straight after work, we're getting the fuck outta dodge. This is my summer trip, folks. This is it. Stuck in the system of the United States' rapidly drowning economy, I can't quite take trips with the frequency I would like. But I'm leaving for 5 days and 4 nights - that's solid! We'll be staying with Ashley's friend Benny. I'm determined to go rollerskating next to the ocean, to find some tacky Chinese lanterns to decorate my new backyard, to swim in warm, Southern California waters.

I'm getting out and the gettin's gonna be good.

Rock Stars have way more fun than normal people

2009-07-23T03:04:00.000-07:00

It's 3:04 in the morning and I've just returned from a rock-star themed party at the Flame Club -a somewhat scummy bar located across the street from the Memorial Auditorium in downtown Sacramento. The place was closed for the night, only friends were allowed in. Drink tickets were given at the door, as well as poker chips for several card tables that were set up, and there was food galore! I myself gorged mostly on the chocolate-dipped strawberries, but satisfied my craving for something savory with the shrimp cocktail. Mmmm..... chocolate strawberries and shrimp cocktail. Almost makes ya want to throw up a bit in your mouth, right? Well it was tasty. And I was drunk. Perhaps that's why the combo was so delicious!The dj was rocking it and I danced until the vintage shoes on my feet could move no more.

A couple friends came over earlier; we drank red wine and played dress up. Ashley went as Joan Jett, Lorea'l as Gwen Stefani (singing all the throughout the night, "the shit is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S), and me, you ask? What alter ego did I don for the night? None other than Madonna. Somehow, a black corset on top of a red fishnet long sleeved shirt, home-made lacy black pettifore-slash-tu-tu thing as a skirt, and purple, yellow, pink and blue heels from the 80s worked well. A couple guests at the party even knew who I was. Sweet.

After we took this photo, Ashley and I realized just how tall I really am compared to her. She looks a little pip-squeak compared to my giganticness! You know, though, if I had actually started preparing for the party before the day of, if I had had a bit more time to scour the thrift stores for a better costume, I woulda gone as Prince. No doubt about it. Purple velvety clothing, white ruffles, jerry curl in my white girl hair - err, ok, maybe not the jerry curls. But velvet and ruffles, for sure. Aww, cute little androgynous Prince. I just want to pinch his cute little butt cheeks!

Anyway, I get back home and start playing around in Google. Unfortunately, up until this time, my hours on the internet have not been spent wisely. Admittedly, my navigation rarely spawns beyond Facebook, Google, Craigslist, and the New York Times. Where, or where, are the bad ass websites? Where can I actually go to feel good about wasting time inside on the internet? Honestly, I try to keep my relationship with my computer short and sweet - I know there's a whole world out there, a world full of rivers and foreign countries and beautiful people - so I try to keep it brief. In and out.

However...

I've decided I'm going to make a living on the internet. Perhaps I've been inspired by a new friend, or perhaps it's been something creeping closer and closer into view. Ever since I returned from Berlin, the world of internet sales (vis a vis my father's Ebay business - brokering used radio station equipment) has been all up in my grill. It's time to become open to the possibilities of selling over the internet.

I'll embrace it. I'll welcome Ebay, I'll welcome Pay Pal. Internet commerce, welcome to my house! It's very, very good to have you. I want to build a website (hopefully using the sweet web design skills of my ex of four years, Jonathan, little boy wonder who now works for Apple), and sell stuff through it. I'd like to write articles about the products, do reviews, and have freelancers contribute as well. I'll pick products that I like, that I trust, that I recommend, and make them available to the world. All in one place. All awesome. All on a website that I will have created. Therefore, all revenue from the sales of the products I choose, as well as any ads placed on the website, will go to me... Muah ha ha haaaahhh!!

Ahem. I want to learn more. I heard today that DUI attorney ads, placed on the right websites, will earn the owner of that website up to $100 bucks. A hundred dollars! Can you believe it?? My good friend Megan has a younger brother, Byron. He's a reggae dj in Sacramento, and, although I love the kid to death, he's dealing with his second DUI. How could you be so stupid?? First of all, is fucking costly. Second of all, you could kill someone. Or yourself. Now how would that feel?

But, of course, as it's my style, I digress. I've decided to manifest making money on the internet. No more working for the man. No more working weekends. No more wasting hours and hours and days of my life doing something I could honestly care less about, all the while KNOWING that I could be doing so much more for myself and not working so hard. That's one of the problems with America. We accept that hard work is the only way to go. I know, I know. It's the "American Dream." It's the search for wealth, for power, for status. It's the willingness to step on your peers to get ahead; use other human beings for personal gains and then throw them away. All for what? A big house on the hill? A white picket fence? A big screen tv in the living room and a maid on the weekends and a family that doesn't know how to communicate with each other?

No thanks.

I'm not selling out, I'm just thinking smarter. I've always known there were other ways to find freedom.

Dear Adsense,

Please work for me! I want my weekends back and I want to travel the world and work from anywhere and someday soon return to Berlin so I can feel that energy again, like being re-born. Click away, folks, click away.

cycling trivialities

2009-07-11T16:18:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm officially single again. To be exact, it's been a good few weeks now, since things ended, but in all honesty, it wasn't the cleanest of breakups. It wasn't the cleanest of relationships, either, but that's sometimes how the cards are played. The cord has been cut but the thing that was used to cut it didn't do such a good job. Think of a butter knife through rope - not so tidy; not so easy. But cut nonetheless, with, admittedly, still the tiniest of threads left. Each day that passes prompts the thread to fray. It may soon tear.

It was a short run, only two months, but it took a toll on me. I feel like I can breathe again, like not only my head but my torso is above water as well. I'm writing more, going out less, really doing things I want to do. Because after all - and not to sound narcissistic - but I am the most important person in my life, right? And you are the most important person in yours. Remember that, givers of the world. You can place as many breadcrumbs as you like in your curled up fist. Stretch it out, extend it, open your hand. But don't give it all away. Don't forget, you need to eat too.

Life is good. It's summer in Sacramento, and yet the weather remains moderate. I'm riding my bike more (still need to get a proper headlight though for night riding), spending more time with my family, and just plain doin' shit. I'm starting to get involved in improv and finding that I'm not only funny around friends but in front of an audience (albeit small) as well. When I was in Berlin, I was hounded monthly by a friend to come to his improv performances - not to watch but to participate in. He was part of a troupe, English speakers of course, who would get together and have shows in town. I never ended up going. I wanted to go, really did mean to go before I left, I swear! But for one reason or another I just never made it.

So why not now?

There's tons of things on my list, tons of things I want to do. In addition to improv, I want to try acting! I also want to get a motorcycle license. And, maybe most importantly, I need to actually sit down and start writing that god damn book. My 28th year. My year away. My year in Europe. If not just to get it down for myself, then to get it down for good friends who keep reminding me to do it.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to sign up for a German class in the fall. In preparation of going back to Berlin in the spring.

three years

2009-07-10T22:57:00.001-07:00

The New York times says
we'll all be dead
in three years;
and the guns that could have procured power,
land, and excess
won't mean shit.

Ancient calendars aren't divided by lines
boxed up into little squares
stacked on top of each other
and on the sides
so that each day suffocates just a little more than the last.

Ancient calendars stood up and yawned
arms outstretched,
extending beyond themselves,
unfolding
deep breathing
like old wise men in the morning

sweat doesn't drip down my back
like it used to.
The seas rise and the ice melts and the
hole
gets
bigger

hyperbaric chambers are over-priced and
overrated
anyway.

heartbeats

2009-05-10T22:38:00.001-07:00

I've never dated a drug dealer before. I guess there's a first time for everything. In all fairness, really, he's not. He was just filling in for a week while his roommate was out of town. In Amsterdam, of all places. But it meant wearing the shoes of a weed salesman's, and let me tell you, those shoes were big and lofty and hard to walk in. Or maybe that was just my perception of it.

So I found myself in his room late Friday night, waiting for clients to show up. Two were coming, and it was almost midnight. At least he was honest about it. The view from his bed was a map of Northern California, somewhere in the wilderness, somewhere where fires rage out of control. It was more a topographical display of the land, really, but it was all greek to me. In any case, the squiggly thin lines that made up the borders or the elevations or whatever it was were moving, slowly, morphing into each other, swaying one way and then the other. The effects of the mushrooms I had eaten earlier that afternoon were wearing off, but still, obviously, startlingly, prevalent. We waited. I stared at the map. He opened a window. I tried to eat some of the calzone that he had ordered, attempted to ingest a piece of the cheese and artichoke filled doughy thing that lay in the box on the floor, half-eaten remenants from earlier. He eats like a wild animal. With his hands. Fast. Determined to scarf as much down before the others come, whether the others are dogs or wolves or lost children.

I couldn't eat much of it at all, really. All I could do was put the box on my lap and stare down at it, unsure. I took a piece of it in my hands and only dirtied my fingers. I eventually gave up and set the thing back down on the floor.

And still we waited.

Midnight. On a Friday. In Davis. With an early morning of work looming around the corner, I stayed with him, anxious for the moment where there wouldn't be anyone coming 'round anymore and we had the night to ourselves. I'm always anxious to have the night to ourselves. I waited for both customers to come and go, curious as to what would transpire. It's no wonder curiosity killed the cat.

A bit past midnight, the first guy finally arrived. He came inside, in the house, and into the bedroom, into our space, sexual energy so thick you could cut it with a butter knife, with the half-eaten calzone on the floor and the music from the computer playing and an unmade bed and me in a paisely, floor-length, cleavage-revealing, stolen dress, holding up the wall, between the doorway and the dealer, where he sat with scales and equipment and baggies. I was uncomfortable. I thought I could handle it; thought it would be beneficial somehow to be the female presence during the deal. I was so wrong. Maybe it was the psychadelics, maybe it was the night, maybe it was just me, but I just couldn't do it. I excused myself while they finished up and small talked and shot the shit and walked into the living room. Drugs and money exchanged, the guy he left. I cordially threw out a goodbye from the living room (where I was hanging out, nervously, with the dogs, the brown one looking up at me, worried) and walked back into his bedroom.

I told him something about space being sacred to me, personal space, private space. The space that permeates the bedroom, that fills up the air and drifts in and out of the window. It's a place where energy is localized. It's becoming familiar, his bedroom, his energy, the maps on the walls and the clutter on the floor. Aided by music and incense and unmade bed and even calzone - I needed it to be mine; I needed it to be ours, and only ours. I told him I needed it to be completely free of all strangers, especially strangers who come calling for drugs. Desperately.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Just let me know what you need and I'll do it," he said.

The next customer didn't come close to the bedroom. Richard went out to meet him instead, into the kitchen or the hallway or the living room or I don't really care and don't know, it wasn't the bedroom and that was fine by me. I felt safe. Somehow he has the ability to constantly reassure me, and it works, well. Perhaps I do the same for him, just in different ways. He also listens to me, hears me, and sometimes even modifies his behavior (if modifications are necessary). It's not that I want to change him; I don't, I wouldn't change a thing. It's just a "Hi, my name is ___, it's nice to meet you, this is what I like and this is what I don't like" sort of exchange. The kind of thing that takes place in the beginning of a mutually beneficial re... you get my drift.

In the way that someone getting to know another human being is scary, he scares me. I like what I'm discovering and I long for more. I guess it's a gamble, every time. Sometimes you put in nothing, sometimes you put in a little, sometimes you put in everything. You either win big or get taken for everything you've got. The rest, the in-between, doesn't even really count, really. I don't know what's ahead of me; I don't know where my path will take me or who I'll end up walking with, all I know is that it's time to step up to the table and place some bets.

You do it to yourself

2009-04-27T23:11:00.000-07:00

I went out. I partied too hard. I had to work the next morning, early. And I got sick. So here I am, with 2 days off ahead of me, knowing full well I won't be able to take advantage of the time because I feel like shit. I did it to myself.

For the past month or two I've been saying to people, "Ugh. i need to quit drinking." And yet I don't. Well, honey, this time I'm saying it and I'm meaning it and I'm going to do it. The fun times I have, while drunk, haven't been equaling the after-effects lately. Perhaps it's because I'm not a spring chicken anymore. Perhaps because I'm not listening to my body. Perhaps I just have a weak immune system. Whatever it is, I'm running myself down, hard. My body is over-heating. I'm getting sick too much. I'm tired. I'm forgetting things. Little, important things that I should remember. Friend's names. Plans I had made. The drinking, the going out, the not sleeping enough - it's effecting me and it's effecting my work. This is no bueno. This is my wake up call.

I'm gonna call the drinking and smoking quits for one week and see how I feel. That's right, no alcohol, no weed, for a weeka, starting today. Maybe, for those of you reading (if there's anyone out there), a week doesn't seem like much. But I'm going to make small goals so I can be sure to meet them. And that's how it's going to be.

I want to have more energy during the days. I want to wake up earlier (earlier than 10:30, anyway) and have a bit of time to go for a walk and get a coffee before work. I want to be alert and coherent on those hellish Sunday brunch shifts of mine. I want to be healthy. I want to feel good. My schedule at work has just changed - I only have one night shift now, Monday night. I'm hoping this move to working days will help me in my transition back into the world of the living. :)

pity party #1

2009-04-15T19:18:00.000-07:00

A tremendous weight has been lifted. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. The music in the background makes me want to fly, helps me to think that I could do so if I stood on the roof and caught the right breeze. Is this euphoria slapping me in the face? Is this some sort of late-onset bi-polarity creeping up and goosing me on the butt? Afraid not, sirs and maa'ms. This is me with an epiphany.

I think I've decided something, and this is it: I will step back from the ledge, climb down from the roof, pull my head out of the clouds for a while. I will change my priorities -- well, not change, per se - but alter, possibly minimally, probably drastically. I will stop going out so much, stop wearing these faces, these masks, that hide my soul. Stop wearing so much makeup. Stop trying too hard. Do more things in the daytime. Ride my bike more and focus on spring. I'd hope that other healthy habits would follow. Not drinking so much, not doing other not-so-legal things as much.

The fact that I am going to post this entry is strange to me, because this is me, this is real. Not to say everything else isn't. Perhaps just saying that this one could be a doozy. I can see is change on the horizon.

I think I can shift gears now. I think I want to. I think the timing and placement may be appropriate. I am, after all, not still in Berlin.

I am in Sacramento.

I was thinking differently, earlier today, wasn't I? After being in bed for almost literally 2 days, with nothing but pain on the forefront of my mind (and the backfront and the sidefront too), my mood shifted. Quickly. And downhill. Until I found myself the very own, one and only, special guest of the pity party located in the first bedroom to the left of the upstairs unit on 1322 D St.

I'm leaving my room now.

a blurred lens

2009-04-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

My world is out of focus. The sunlight streams down on me and I walk up the stairs to the porch connected to my house, stop, look around. Try to see the tree for what the tree really is - green leaves and brown trunk, folliage that sways in the wind and is separate from each other, but it's just one big dark mass. I take my glasses off. Perhaps I'll see better that way. I look at the cars parked on the street, in the sun, the warming sun. They are just clusters of color, like the tree. I feel cold. Even in the sun.

The past two days I've been dealing with a physical pain in my neck, a pain that makes me feel nauseas, like I'm drowning, a pain that overwhelms me to the point of tears, that tires me out and forces me to stay inside, in my room, in my bed. Forces me to sleep. It's dark in here now and it's quiet and peaceful and my blinds are shut. I try not to focus on them. I know there are cars parked on the street outside and a big tree growing on the other side of my window but I don't care. I just want the pain to go away. And it has - it's almost gone, now. Lucky us, how we forget about pain, about stress, about any of these little soldiers that attack us. We forget about the wars and battles after they are fought and won (or lost) and move on. We keep moving forward, keep marching, but without weapons drawn. We march onwards without looking back, without our guard up, oblivious to the possibility of the next battle. Hopefully they are few and far between.

Yesterday I went to see an accupuncurist in Davis. He slapped the skin on my ankles, right above the curving slope on the top of my feet and the sides too, and pricked my skin with tiny, thin metal pins. He forgot to remove one. I did it myself, on the sidewalk outside his office, after feeling a slight annoyance on my ankle, wondering if it was my body's memory of a needle being there. But it wasn't a memory; it was the needle itself. I bent over, pulled at my left pant leg, stared down at the thing. Wondered if I should leave it. I pulled it out and the feeling was instantly gone, almost like the pain in my neck when I was lying on his table in his office. I held the thing in the palm of my left hand as my mother, to the right of me, my chauffer for the day (as I couldn't drive - the pain was that debilitating) chatted on, both of us unaware that the pain would be back as soon as we got to the car, and wouldn't dissipate (but would in fact intensify) until my visit to a chiropractor this morning.

For a moment I went back and forth in my head - should I put the thing in my pocket? Should I drop it on the sidewalk? Should I go back inside the office and show it to the receptionist? Her husband had died last year, she told us. I told her I was sorry. She said she was too. She had bigger things to worry about besides little accupuncture pins that had been left in girls' ankles, things like keeping the doctor happy, billing insurance companies, watering plants, feeding her cat. Thinking about her husband. She still wore her ring. It was beautiful. Geometric and asymmetric at the same time, if that makes any sense. I wondered how long it would take, after the death of your spouse, to feel comfortable without your ring on. I wonder how long she'll wear hers. It's beautiful, after all, and I suppose it wards off any possible suitors, assuming she's not ready for any of that any time soon. I suppose it's subjective. I myself would probably wear it for a long, long time.

I ended up putting the pin in my pocket, but an instant later digging in my pocket deeper for something else (money? I can't remember now) and then there it was, lying on the sidewalk. I left it there and walked away.

I was at a chiropractor's office this morning. He made small talk, introduced me to his wife ("She is the pilates instructor here," he told me, an attempt to perhaps advertise his little wellness center to me. "Oh. That's nice," I returned, and gave him a look of pleading, a look that said "please fix me, I am in pain and don't care about pilates"), took an x-ray of me from the front and me from the side, sat me down in a massage chair with an icepack on my neck and handed me the remote control to the chair. He told me it would be fifteen minutes until the film developed, so I should just sit there and "relax;" enjoy the massage, oh and here's the stop button just in case it's too much or I became uncomfortable. I closed my eyes and squirmed in the chair while plastic hands beat their way into my back. I immediately pushed the off button.

Fifteen minutes passed. He took me into his office, showed me the x-rays; I'm not a doctor but I could see my neck was fucked. Where it was supposed to be straight, it was curved; where it was supposed to be curved, it was straight. He asked me if I'd been in any car accidents (yes, I was rear-ended once while sitting at a red light, waiting for it to change, with my friends Michelle and Margaret in the car. We were leaving Santa Cruz to drive over the hill into San Jose. Destination: the mall. Yes, I used to do that) or childhood accidents. I told him about the car incident but insisted it wasn't hard enough to cause any damage.

"Once, when I was eight, I was bucked off a horse," he said. "I was thrown off the thing and did a summersalt over it. I landed on my head." "Wow," I returned, not really knowing how else to respond or why exactly he was telling me this. "Then when I was twelve, I dove head first into 2 feet of water and hit the bottom." "Oh! I did that too," I told him. It's interesting how, like pain, we also forget traumas. I hadn't thought of that incident for years - my friends and I at WaterWorld at age 13. I dove into the lazy river and mis-calculated the depth. My chin hit, hard. The impact broke my left front teeth in half, cut my lip, scraped up my chin. I emerged in a panic, bloody, embarrassed, adrenalin pumping, remembering how when you cut a finger off you're supposed to find the missing piece so the hospital can re-attach it. I was confused, I was young, I thought I needed to find the other half of my tooth. I dove back under numerous times, searching for that little bit of chipped enamal, with no avail. My best friend stood there, outside the pool, and laughed at me. She told me she did that when people got hurt. She told me it was a nervous reaction. I told her that was bullshit, and cruel. We are not friends anymore.

I don't suppose I deal with pain well, or perhaps I deal with it the best I can. I've had two days off, I go back to work tomorrow. Yesterday was basically spent in bed, the exception being my visit to the accupuncurist and a late-night run to Jack's Urban Eats for a spicy buffalo chicken salad. The sun shines outside, like I said, but I'm cold, exhausted, lonely. Maybe pain is forgotten after it's gone, but when you have no one to take care of you while you are experiencing it, perhaps it is intensified.

I miss you

2009-03-23T16:05:00.000-07:00

I miss writing. I have no time, or I'm not making time, or I'm filling my time up with other bits and pieces and odds and ends, or making excuses as to why I have no time, or wasting time trying to convince myself that I have no time when indeed I really do and am just using it for other things.

Or perhaps the truth is that I do have time. Here it is 4:16 and I still have time to take a shower and get ready for work and leave for work at 4:45 to roll in at 4:59 for my 5pm shift. Perhaps, right now, getting out and enjoying life, spending time on things like mexican fiestas -- salsa and merangie and dancing and free beer and tequilla and new friends; or coffee and croissants and gossip with old friends, or meeting with one of the seemingly endless failures of gentleman callers for a quick or not so quick coffee or a drink or a smoke or a jazz show or dinner that may or may not lead us back to my place or theirs, gentleman callers who somewhat disturbingly enter and quickly exit my life through a metaphorical revolving door that's always spinning -- is working better for me, better than staying in and keeping calm and using my time more 'wisely' and... writing.

I wake up in the morning and want to leave my house, embark on my path of "doing" for the day. It's a hard feeling to fight; I'm a difficult one to restrain. I haven't had the urge lately to do it, to come here, to lay my fingers on the key board and open up the connection between my brain and my hands. But now that I'm here I realize how much I enjoy being here, how this feels like home to me. And now it's 4:19 and the clock keeps on ticking.

I talk about writing a book, I tell people about this plan but the more time that passes, the smaller and more hazy my idea becomes. I feel it slipping away. I have so many stories to tell from my time away. I need to tap into those memories before they fade and blur and get replaced or forgotten. I need to come back to this place more. For me, for you, for all of us.

And now it's 4:36 and I'm sitting here in my underwear on my bed with my wet hair wrapped up in a towel on my head and the music is playing and perhaps this whole time thing bemuses me. How far can I push it? How much can I suck out of it? It's mine, in the end, and I'll do what I want with it.

Plans

2009-03-09T00:41:00.000-07:00

As all of us know, even the best laid plans can go awry.

Last September when I bought my ticket home to the states from Berlin, I was certain I'd be coming back to live there this summer. I thought I'd just come back to Sacramento for 5 months, spend some time with my parents, hang out with friends, get out of the unforgiving cold of Northern Germany and into the California air, and then slip on back Europe in April, when the sun was finally about to come out in full force and t-shirts and sandals were yet again making their yearly debut. Easy as pie.

Oh, how plans change.

Apparently, I guess I didn't realize some things. For one, my family needed help. A lot of help. Two, I must have forgotten how amazing and kick-ass my friends here were. I had missed the old ones to bits and I am thankful and surprised by the kindness and awesomeness of the new ones I've made since being back. Three, I found a pretty sweet (and sorta coveted) job at a restaurant in Sacramento. Four, I haughtily through off the weighty chains of suburbia and escaped to downtown. Five, I conquered the culture shock of being home and realized that I am happy to be here, that I don't need to go galavanting around the world to find my happiness, to enjoy my existence as a human on this planet, to live my life to the fullest. I can do that right here, right now, gladly, and full of joy.

The days are getting warmer - it's early march but you know how California is, don't you? We also get to keep the sun for an extra hour every day now, and soon, little cocoon-y buds on tree branches will open, bloom, explode. And perhaps best of all - I'm only two deflated (but perfectly good and functional) tires away from being mobile on my bicycle.

Positive energy is surrounding me - call me a hippie but I'm feelin' the vibes, man. Life is good. No, life is great. It's pretty simple, my life. I've realized that when you surround yourself with wonderful people, wonderful things will happen - no matter where you are.

But, as of two days ago - I made the decision not to come back to Berlin to visit in April. A couple months ago, I promised my father I would help him start up a company that, if successful, would mean a comfortable retirement for him and my mom. He needed my help - desperately - and that was one of the reasons I initially decided not to move back to Berlin. Now he's asked me to come with him to Las Vegas for the NAB (National Association of Broadcasters) annual convention to network. Funny enough, the NAB happens to take place April 20-23rd. My plane ticket is for the 15th.

I asked him yesterday "how badly" he wants me to come, knowing full well the answer. Intuitively, I am aware how much it would mean to him if I came with him, personally and professionally. Accompanying my father to the convention that he's attended for the majority of his 40+ years in the Professional Radio industry -- the convention where he gets to see old friends, colleagues, and co-workers, the convention where he is allowed to let loose a bit, share proud stories of his family and specifically his daughter -- would be an emotional milestone in our already wonderful father/daughter relationship. He told me it would be good if I came.

In the very least I owe this to him.

So, again, plans. What can you do though, really? You just gotta go with it, roll with it, keep moving forward. It's not a big deal - it'd be wonderful to see Berlin in the spring again, meet up with my friends, enjoy being back for a fleeting moment, get on my bike and ride through the streets with my Ipod blaring like a bad ass, but it'll be even more wonderful being introduced to the peers of my father by my father. I'll no longer be the image of the girl in the photos in his wallet, the stories he tells over and over. I'll be live and in 3D -- very Vegas of me! Everyone will finally get to see what all the fuss has been about. And, hey, it's in Vegas, baby! Ahh, Vegas - with my 60-something, chain smoking, wine-loving, story-telling, a bit absent minded, heart-of-gold father. Alright! Maybe we'll go do some gambling...maybe get drunk together! Maybe we'll even do a few lines of coke and accidentally kill a hooker and then end up having to drive into the desert to bury the body! Whatever transpires, it'll be monumental.

Berlin, I would have liked to stay forever, you know that, don't you? Do you know that I fell in love with you the moment I saw you from the train? I knew ours would be a complicated and wonderfully sweet love affair, one which will hopefully last for years to come. Well my sweet sweet dear, I promise I'll be back. I don't exactly know when and I don't exactly know how, but I swear, this is one plan I won't let change.

1

2009-02-23T13:54:00.000-08:00

Passing cars outside my window mimic the sound of waves, of the ocean. One big, fast, swooping wave. It crashes right outside my door. Cars drive by my house, trudging along on the pavement in the rain, through the bit of water abandoned on the street. The car is gone. The wave is over in an instant and it makes me wish it really was the ocean.

It's almost quiet here, with the exception of the cars outside. There is a low murmur of a television set that seeps under my door from the living room, an occasional cough from the sick roommate stationed on the couch (he's been there for the last 2 days), and a mysterious tapping noise coming from the ceiling above to my right. It's cozy. So cozy that I don't want to leave my bed, my room, my house. I know that I should - it's my day off and I'd like to utilize it; but I'm torn. I'm still sick, and with the feeling of physical weakness comes a reduction of spirit, to the point where I'd be happy just staying in bed all day, reading, writing, surfing the net. To the point where being alone all day would be ok.

Here comes the introspection part. More and more I'm realizing that maybe I should be alone for a while. Which is funny, because for a few months now, I think I had been mistaking wanting someone for wanting something. The thing I want, I now know, is stability in my life. It's not about having a guy around, being in a relationship, finding a boyfriend, a partner, an anchor. It's about being alone and being ok with that; having the strength to know to say no - which is difficult, because, admittedly, there always seems to be someone in my periphery.

I can be my own anchor. I want stability and that's why I'm staying in Sacramento. There will be other adventures ahead, more globe-trotting and hopefully another life as an expat. I must keep that in mind, must remember that the adventure isn't over yet.

big cat little cat

2009-02-12T11:52:00.000-08:00

I had a very strange dream last night. I think it took place in a hotel or a large house with many rooms and staircases and corridors and worn-out, tired carpets, and thin walls and many spaces to disappear into.

I met the singer from Oingo Boingo and we started a romance. Just like that! He was an older, distinguished gentleman - well, older than me - maybe early forties. He had dark hair that was speckled with gray and a kind face that I just can't recall at this point - but he was handsome and nice and hey! He was the lead singer of Oingo Boingo.

The romance began at a bar and ended in a bedroom - if you get my drift. I remember being very intrigued by him - there was certainly substance between the bar and the bedroom - I can't recall the subject matter of the conversations but I know we had them and I know they were at least interesting.

But at some point, after the bar and after the bedroom, I suppose I got bored with Oingo Boingo and I went exploring. This venture landed me outside.

There was a noticeable perimeter in the shape of a fence that surrounded the area. It was low to the ground and wrought iron. All of a sudden, beyond the fence, a cat appeared - a skinny thing, black and dirty and mangy with matted fur and hungry darting eyes. It was yowling, moaning, starving. It arched it's back and slinked underneath the fence and as it did I saw that it's stomach was just a flat piece of skin and fur, giving the illusion that it had been run over by a car.

Instinctively, I knew I had to feed it. A garbage can appeared, suddenly, and I walked toward it, hoping to find some sort of scrap for the hungry cat. I must have manifested the idea of food because I found a skewer of chicken or some half-eaten meat thing inside. My dreams are funny this way - sometimes, if I can think it, it will appear. I'm working on getting better at this.

I picked up the skewer of food and walked toward the cat, setting it down on the ground in front of the fence. The animal pounced, wolfing it down, swallowing it whole. Instantly it began to change. It looked up at me and started growing, getting bigger, changing color - that's when the energy of the dream shifted. The tiny, underweight, starving black kitty was morphing into a cougar and becoming angry and dangerous. I remember becoming afraid and backing up, keeping my eyes on the animal the whole time, wondering why, after feeding it and bringing it back from starvation, would the thing come after me. I guess I looked like the biggest piece of meat around, and darn tasty too.

And then I woke up.

Underground Berlin

2009-02-04T11:43:00.000-08:00

I received a request to list some underground Berlin spots (clubs and bars) here. If anyone would like to add a suggestion or mention something I didn't, please feel free to comment. But first... I must reminisce a bit.

Yeah, so I did a lot of partying when I was in Berlin. It was not only my job (as a Pub Crawl guide), but a lifestyle I really enjoyed. - the music, the people, the dancing, and, yeah, admittedly, the drugs.

Somehow I came up with the energy to spend weekends on my feet. Many a night after work, my co-workers and friends and I would leave the Matrix (the worst club in Berlin - believe me - it's where the New Berlin Pub Crawl ended) around 1am, and we'd move on to the real party. We'd find a place to trash or stow our shit from the night (basically just the mixed bottles of orange juice and Rachmoninof Wodka we fed to the unsuspecting tourists), grab some beers, and run to catch last S-Bahn train somewhere into or out of the city, ears cocked slightly for sounds of thumping bass.

I worked 3-4x a week, and probably partied just as often. That's the beauty of having a job that starts at 7pm. Many of my co-workers, the infamous Timmy from Australia, for one, wouldn't usually wake up until 5pm. Was it a waste of the day? No - because we fucking exploited the night - we sucked it dry, wrung it out until every last sweet drop fell into our mouths. We bent the night over and took it from behind, hard. It was good.

The work week was a blur - days morphed into weeks, weeks turned into months - I did that job for a long time. 8 months, to be exact. But it was great - it gave me freedom and money and a visa for Germany and it took me out of the 5 day work week system. Thankfully, the dreaded Monday had no meaning for me. Ah, Monday. It signaled the start of the work week for so many folks, but not for me, not when you could find a party any night if you were looking for one. But weekends - Thursdays through Saturdays - were when the hardcore folks came out of the woodwork, dressed up with glitter on their faces, vintage garb on their bodies, sneaks on their feet, sunglasses for the next morning, and for the day after, and the morning after that...

But I utilized my days as well. I'd try to spend my days outside during the spring and summer, whether it was biking through the city, rummaging around flea markets, feeling the sun on my face, hanging out with friends at a park, drinking coffee at a cafe, or just exploring Berlin. There was SO much to explore. It was wonderful. So it was a good mix. I wasn't the one sleeping in til 5, but I wasn't up at the crack of dawn either. I had a balance. I enjoyed my days just as much as the nights. I enjoyed everything, immensely.

So, without further ado (finally), the list.

Clubs:

Golden Gate was by far my favorite club in Berlin. It was very underground but it's certainly becoming more well known every weekend that passes. It's a one room venue with a bar and a patio to chill, sometimes a difficult door to get into. Amazing music and lots of drugs. You can check out a review I did on the place here for Body Tonic Music. Golden Gate is in a two-story building located underneath the Jannowitzbruke S-bahn station. Just listen for the bass.

Ritter Butzke is a wherehouse-type venue where some amazing parties were thrown - parties that sometimes seriously last from Friday night til Sunday evenings. I believe these parties are done by a group called Bachstelzen. Let me just say that ANY Bachstelzen party is worth going to. Bachstelzen is somehow associated with Bar 25 - a pretty well-known, very hard to get into bar on the spree. Ritter Butzke has a couple indoor rooms, great spaces to dance, amazing djs, vintage/shabby/yard sale comfy furniture to chill on, and a back patio that's open (weather permitting) for live stage acts that are often very strange, yet entertaining. It's at Ritter Strasse 24.

I heard that Tape Club across from Hauptbanhof was pretty good and big names come through there often, but I never checked the place out. It's at Heidestrasse 14.

Cassieopia near Warschauer Strasse is a pretty cool place to check out - just because it has a very underground feel, although it's not hard to find and lots of people know about it. I think there's anywhere from 3 to 4 actual venues inside of the place. It's labyrinthine, and it's a part of a larger, rundown, wherehouse-y type complex with open spaces and graffiti and street art everywhere. There's even an indoor skate park or half pipe or something in the complex too, as well as a cafe and art spaces. These things aren't open when the clubs are open, though. The music here, unlike the other places I've listed, ranges beyond electro to hip hop or reggae or even punk I think. Find it at Revaler Strasse 99

Privat Club has an intimate and kinda classy feel, but it's not intimidating. It's small, and located in the basement of a restaurant in Kreuzberg. I've always had a good time there and the music they offer is really cool, even bordering obscure sometimes, which is nice and different in the electro-filled city of Berlin. You can find Russian Disko there or funk and soul or acid jazz or other cool genres. It's at Pücklerstraße 34.

As far as bars go - I would recommend just walking around Kreuzberg - around or between the Schlesishes Tor and Goerlitzer train stations, and especially near Goerlitzer Park in Kreuzberg. There's a ton of great little hole-in-the-wall places to check out.

And one more thing - the best, most "underground" parties in Berlin don't last too long. As soon as one emerges from the underground, gains popularity, and attracts the meat-heads and dumb silicone blondes, it's over. So act quick people. Get your party on!

Resolutions

2009-02-03T13:18:00.001-08:00

Obviously, if you've been keeping up with this blog, you'll have noticed that I've been posting a lot about being alone, feeling lonely, dating and relationships, past, present and future. All this talk is probably making you sick. Well, I hope not, but if it is, I understand. You may have moved onto a different blog by now, looking for tales of hot sex and orgies and drug-induced nights of partying and black-outs. Hey, black-outs can be fun, right? Just a barrel of laughs! Riiiight.

But if you're still here, still reading this, I thank you. You have been invited inside to witness my life as for the past few years, and what a life it's been. There's been a lot of travel, a lot of good friends, a lot of ups, a few downs, a good amount of change, a shit ton of thoughts, and even more emotions. And, hey, I understand if you may have a complaint - not enough blogging on the sex and drugs and partying - forgive me for that; there's a line that has to be drawn somewhere, right?

So I do feel like things have been changing lately. Visibly, obviously, my life is changing. That's the way it always is, isn't it? At least I'd hope so. I'm afraid of being stagnant, becoming stale, waxing static. I try to avoid this like the plague. It's not too difficult, fortunately, for me to do so - to keep moving, stay on my toes, continue dancing. Motion is key. As long as I'm moving, I'm ok. And I love to move, so it works.

So here's the thing: now, especially, after over a year of being gone, my distinctly uncertain future is possibly becoming a little more certain. After wading through two supremely shitty months of my life upon arriving back, I can feel that change is happening, change for the better. I do have the ticket back to Berlin in April. But (and here's the but - and it's shocking to say, but I have to say it) for the first time since coming back, I do not know if I will go back.

In my last post I mentioned the new job - and I know it came across as under-enthusiastic (which was because of the mood I was in at the time), but believe me, I'm STOKED about it. I'm working at my favorite restaurant in Sacramento, making good money, eating awesome food for free each shift, making new friends and networking. I have amazing co-workers who not only create an entertaining and titilating work environment but also enjoy grabbing life by the balls and doing shit outside of work, like movie nights, bar hopping, dancing, etc.

What's happening now is I'm stabilizing. For the first time in what feels like a long time, I'm in a place where I could see myself being for a while. Even though I'm working through the chaos that ensued once I came home, I can see progress. I feel happy here, it feels right. There's a foundation here - family, friends, a job, a place to live. I want to go back to Berlin, I want to have another summer filled with partying and friends, but in the end, I don't know how long I can scatter myself all over the world, hopping from here to there and back, leaving behind people I love and possibly missing out on opportunities for the future. I can't have it all and I think I'm realizing that. I had a year. It was the most amazing year of my life. I think I could be ok with this.

If I rewound my life 10 years, I wouldn't have imagined that I'd be here today - as this person who'd done these things, as this person who is seizing life and seizing opportunities and having a damn good time. If I'd have known what was in store for me, I think I would be glad.

For the last 2 and 1/2 years I haven't been able to call anyone my boyfriend. That doesn't mean that I didn't have relationships here and there, but I didn't want to embark on that journey. Obviously, some of them were more meaningful than others. None of them were meaningless. I learned from all of them. I was also single for a long time, and that was fun too. I got to the point where I was actually happy being single, being on my own, taking the opportunity to do whatever it was that I wanted to do, for myself and myself only. I was ok with being alone - that's something a lot of people can't say.

But, in all honesty, being alone was getting old, and I could feel that approaching feeling, like I didn't want to do it for that much longer. So I started looking. But all I found were the wrong people, guys who were too young, guys who weren't on the same level as me, guys who were just looking for fun, guys who didn't have their shit together. I knew I wouldn't really find anyone until I stopped looking. That's always the way it is, and you realize it, but it takes a while for that realization to really sink in.

Dating SUCKS, right? It's like starting an old motor that keeps dying, and you have to re-start it or jump it and sometimes it's cold and sometimes it chokes and sometimes it just craps out on you all together. Other times, that motor might run, might warm up, might last for a while, but in the end, it's still old and tired and ready to give up. What I'm trying to say is that my new year's resolution was to give up on using that old motor and switch to a new one. I decided I wouldn't just date anymore, that I wouldn't settle for guys who didn't have their shit together or who weren't my type or didn't really care about me or weren't serious with their heart or mine. I would be careful who I let in or gave any piece of my heart to, big or small.

So, long story short (too late, I know, I know), I finally stopped looking. It was my official New Year's resolution, even though it was like a week or so late. And it's funny. It's really fucking funny. Because, well, you know what they say about what happens when you stop looking...

untitled

2009-01-26T23:33:00.000-08:00

I feel like I should write but don't know what to say. I'll just start. I started a new job last week at a place I love, a restaurant in downtown Sacramento - my favorite place, actually. So now, it's me behind the counter, and I love it.

I'm steadily getting to know my co-workers, making friends with some of them. We went out as a group last friday night - it was pretty nuts on the party scale, but it was awesome. We moved as a group from the Golden Bear (a bar downtown) where I wasn't allowed inside because I only had my passport on me, to the Townhouse (another bar downtown - two stories, divey, cheap - it got shut down last year for running coke), to the Press Club, (one of my personal favorites) where we fucking danced our asses off. It felt so good, that release of energy with a group of people that are becoming my environment.

After the lights were spontaneously, brutally, and prematurely flipped on at 1:30 am, we migrated to a house party that took about 20 minutes to walk to. I think we were there for a good ten minutes before the cops came and shut the place down. Stuart, who works as a busser at the restaurant, dropped me off at my car around 4. I was in bed by 4:30 and up at 8 for a 9am shift (which, funny enough, I didn't even have to work - turns out I was scheduled at 5pm that day - a mistake my manager made when telling me my schedule a few days prior). I went home but wasn't able to sleep because I was so caffineated. It was a very long day.

Rewind a bit - to the part where "everyone" is going out after work, it's friday night, and I think I have to be at work at 9am - most people would have passed, right? Well, I guess I'm not most people. Listen. It's not about partying. It's about not saying no. I didn't want to pass on an experience with my co-workers. I don't want to pass on a chance in general, actually. I'm trying to say yes to things, all good things that come my way. It's my philosophy, my mantra. I figure that the more good things I say yes to, the more good things that will present themselves in front of me. Without running myself into the ground, of course.

It's all about manifesting.

So I can proudly say I am no longer unemployed. It's a new perspective, and I'm so glad to have it. After dealing with so many unknowns for the past two months, struggling with money, dealing with reverse culture shock, helping my parents out of the mess they created for themselves (bless their trusting hearts; there was no way they could have known), I'm finally stabilizing, finding some autonomy. The job, the place to live, the friends, the family. I have a lot going for myself right now, and I want to remember that and appreciate it.

I know I'm leaving in less than three months. I know I won't be here for that long. That's a very difficult thing for me. Very difficult. Especially as time is passing here and I'm meeting new people and connecting. To know that I'll leave again... well, to be honest, it's sort of breaking my heart a little bit. I'm going to need something soon, something longer lasting, something constant, an anchor. My future is open and my plans are uncertain - I'm moving forward - it's freeing yet terrifying.

But there's something missing. It's that coming home to an empty place thing. I've never lived alone before, and now, here I am, sitting in front of my dad's computer in my parent's house, procrastinating. They're in bed but they're here, and that gives me some comfort. Whereas my place - cold and quiet and dark - offers the escape of much-needed sleep. I'm feeling weary. Yet I'm avoiding it.

Big brother thinks it's time for me to hook up

2009-01-19T00:15:00.001-08:00

Can I just ask, how the f@*k do the advertisements on my Facebook homepage know that I'm single? Argh.

That was sort of rhetorical.

Big Brother is an unwelcomed voyeur in my life; at the very least, in my online life. He comes disguised as the bot or the cookie or the zombie or whatever the hell you call those things who scavenge and scour and search through your computer, digging for information. As we speak, he's going through my trash searching for evidence, riffling through the blogs that I write and the emails that I send and the oh-so-thorough and personal descriptions that I slaved away creating for a smattering of social networking sites that I belong to. Are you going to say that these things are able to penetrate the depths of my harddrive and extract information like leeches? Sucking information from my soul to the surface and then spitting it out for all to see?

Well, thank you Facebook, thank you cookies, thank you Big Brother, but I already know I'm single. Tell me something provocative next time!

Can I get a witness?

2009-01-18T00:54:00.001-08:00

Or can I at least get someone else to comment on this goddamn article I slaved over, sweated on, and pumped out during an all-night writing session in Berlin? Like, someone other than my dad, please? Dad, I know you wanted to support your daughter and I appreciate the comment but do you REALLY want to know what kind of debauchery ensues within the toilets of Golden Gate, Berlin?

I don't think so.

The rest of you can read and comment on it here: Not if you were the last club on earth: Golden Gate, Berlin.

Saturn Returning

2009-01-17T23:32:00.000-08:00

Unless you're color blind, you may have noticed that I've re-vamped the old blog. It's a new day, it's a new dawn, it's a new life... and I'm feeling good.

Actually, it's a new year, it's a new consciousness, it's a new self... and I'm feeling. Maybe it's the California air, but I've been thinking a hell of a lot lately, analyzing myself, being analyzed by good friends and acquaintances, struggling, adapting, enjoying - it's an emotional time. But it's not the hormonally-challenged, hot-headed, huge-hearted emotions of a 14-year-old. No, no. It's not like that at all. It's more like the hormonally-challenged, hot-headed, huge-hearted emotions of a 29-year-old.

But really, it's like this. Things feel more real, more raw, more crisp - my heart is getting a work out, as is my mind. Maybe, as my friend Michelle is suggesting, it's Saturn returning. Or maybe it's none of that hippy bullshit but that I'm thinking harder, finding solutions - fighting through the cluttered debris inside of my head and sorting through the files marked "history." Throwing out some of the old and creating new. Doing some early spring cleaning. Like, as in the spring of my life. Hmm. It's a verrry slowwww processsssss. I should find a "please excuse our mess as we are restructuring" sign to throw up in there as a warning.

You know what it feels like? It feels like I'm entering into a new life. Or into the old, somewhat updated life as a new person.

I enter this year alone and a little lonely, a little bit scattered and with chaos on my side, but I enter it bravely, with my held head up and my eyes staring ahead but getting cozy with their periphery; with an mind-blowingly awesome family, with amazingly kick-ass friends, with some effing exciting plans and possibilities. I enter this year with one hand a fist in my pocket and the other fist swinging at my side. I enter with one hand warding off the unwanted, the unworthy, and the other holding close the ones I love. I enter this year as a 29-year-old escape artist, a nomad, a visitor. I enter this year as a human.

I didn't make any resolutions this year. But I'd like to now, here, if it's not too late. Oh, you wanted to know what it was? Hmmm.... I think I need to keep this one inside for a while.

An explanation.

2009-01-08T12:32:00.000-08:00

I have to apologize in advance for yet another semi-downer post. Maybe it's been my mood lately, but the cold and gray and gloom doesn't help. Neither does that fact that whatever cold or flu that's been sluttin' around Sacramento has finally caught up with me. My throat is closed up; it hurts to swallow. My energy level is on the floor. I just ate a bowl of oatmeal and I think that's about the most productive thing I can manage at the moment.

But I'm also feeling lonely. And gosh darnit, I'll blog about it. It's my space, right? I can do whatever I want here. So here goes. It's been two and a half years since my last solid relationship ended. I'm not discrediting the few that happened afterward, it's just that, for one reason or another, the bar was set lower for them. Or the ceiling. Or something. What I'm trying to say is that there were limitations set, by me and by the other parties, that made it difficult to realize or actualize any potential that the relationship could have had. Read: I was leaving for Europe, so there was an end date. Then, I was leaving Europe, so there was an end date. And so on, and so forth.

And now I find myself in the same predicament. I'm leaving for Europe, again, in April. Or, at least scheduled to. Just because I have a plane ticket that allows me to board that flight on April 15th doesn't mean I'll be on it. No, it's not 100%. Especially with the family business that's been going on lately, with my parents possibly needing help. I won't leave if they need me. It's a scary thought, but obviously it's the right thought. Admittedly, I'm a bit torn about going back, wondering if I should just buck up and stay here and "get on with things." Obviously, it's not a black and white issue. There's a lot of gray area, certainly. But I do want to go back. For economic reasons alone, I want to go back. There's a job waiting for me, there's money to be made - that's a lot more than I can say about my present situation. The U.S. economy is in the toilet and it's clogging up the pipes!

But going back to Berlin means another limited shelf life for any glimmer of a relationship that may pop up, another approaching expiration date. I'm not a twinky! I won't last forever. And in 4 months, with any luck, I will leave. Again.

Speaking of shelf lives and of limited relationships - in my last post I mentioned something about "this one not wanting to follow me halfway across the world." I'd really like to clear that up, if I may. I realize that statement sounded ridiculously, absolutely and magnificently selfish. I didn't mean for it to sound that way. I didn't even mean to put it on that specific individual. Let me explain. For a while now, there's been this idea lurking like a troll under a bridge in the back of my mind - something along the lines that the "perfect" guy, for me, would be a guy who could just pick up and go. Meet me in Bangkok, meet me in Dubai, meet me in Berlin. I know it's a biased dream, I realize 99% of the population can't just up and leave, embark on a why-the-hell-not binge of travel and romance and excitement, but there's always that 1% that makes it a possibility, that keeps the troll at bay. A girl can dream, can't she? In all honesty, I'm a god-dammed hopeful romantic and it might just be the death of me. So that's what I was referring to. It was more the dream than anything, more the hope of the possibility than the acceptance of the reality. I'm sorry if it came across wrong. I try very hard to be an unselfish person - I really do.

I guess, in my dream of dreams, I just want to find a partner to explore the world with.

Blogging is hard - it gets you into trouble sometimes, especially when the person you are writing about reads your blog. And it's difficult, because although these really are my innermost thoughts, my private musings, they eventually end up in a public domain. It's tricky, right? Actually, it's not. So I'll tell myself again, "don't write it if you don't want them to read it!" But on the other hand, it's my legacy - silly as that may seem. If no one reads it, then know one knows, and I'm even more alone than I think I am.

Blogging is also difficult because it's so damn one-sided. It's like dumping all your shit on the table for someone to pick over, sort through, analyze. I'll say, "Here, let me bare my soul to you. Now it's your turn." But it's usually never their turn, at least not in the same regard. Perhaps I should put a "Please read but do not Judge" clause at the top. I wonder if that would help any, anyway.

catch

2008-12-20T18:40:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find someone who understands me. To be honest, sometimes I wonder if I'll ever find anyone, period. I know, I know. I'm still young. A lot can happen in a lifetime. But up until this point (and I guess all single people can say this), it's just been one string of failed "whatevers" after another. Maybe this one fell out of love with me, maybe the other one moved away, maybe the next one isn't willing to meet me half way across the world. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Part of my problem is, perhaps, that I've been moving a lot lately, and it's certainly hard to put down roots when you're always rolling. And I can totally understand how someone would be a bit skeptical when they see I'm not finished with this, whatever this is. You could call it a phase. You could call it a pit stop - some have. Or you could call it self- and world-exploration. I'd like to just think of it as my life.

I still haven't figured out what I want - and even though I do feel societal pressure to "get my shit together" and find that thing that I want to do with my life, I try my best to ignore it. The pressure, that is. I'm gonna say I'm ok with not knowing. I know I want to live, I know I want to see as much of the world as possible, I know I want an amazing quality of life that may or may not necessarily depend on what I do for a living. I know I want to use my car less and walk more, take public transportation, live a more conscious life, create things, enjoy sunsets, dance. It's simple. For me, it's more about where I am and who surrounds me then what I do - I've figured that out recently and I'm very happy with my findings.

I am a lot of things, but I do not define myself by a career. (Which is great because right now I'd be undefinable. Ha.) Writing makes me happy, and luckily, I get to do that often. Travel, as well, spending time with family and friends, a good book. Unfortunately, not everyone understands this. Even one of my closest friends is having problems - I'm trying to find the right word here - accepting my lifestyle philosophy. Even though we don't see eye to eye on certain thoughts or values, I love her and it's good to get that push back sometimes. Thankfully, my parents are trying to understand, and better yet, they support me in all of my strange choices.

I've learned a lot. Accessed this whole "life" situation; analyzed what works for me and what I can throw out with the trash. However, there's still much more to learn.

Back to the topic, though. Humans are pack animals, aren't we? We weren't designed to be alone. Surely not this human. I know I have much to figure out still, and it definitely scares me. I find comfort in knowing that to some extent, we all feel this way - no matter at what age. I'd just like to find someone to figure out some shit with.

I know I'm a catch. So why do I keep falling? Slipping through the net? Getting lost in the shuffle? Am I too much to handle? Do guys look at me and think, "I'd be with her but I don't want to be with her?" Do they not see my humor, my intelligence, my wit, my charm?

Patience, young grasshopper.

Maybe it's a combination of things. Maybe it's timing. Maybe it's my transient state. Maybe it's my skewed outlook on life - the fact that I don't fit into the system, the one that says I should be married with kids and a career by now. I don't buy it and I won't buy it. I'll find my happiness elsewhere, thank you very much. Maybe it's all that, or maybe I just haven't met the right one yet. Maybe it's just not time. Maybe there's still stuff I need to do for myself. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe.... I should just convert to girls?

ch-ch-ch-changes

2008-12-16T18:45:00.000-08:00

Lots of shit's changing. The things I thought would happen once I returned home aren't. To be honest, I had no idea what to expect when I got back. All I can say now is this - there was no way for me to know that my life would turn into the soap opera it is now. Officially, I am main character on the stage of my life - but it's not a stage, it's a badly done, tacky set, Days of Our Lives style. Sans the hot steamy sex. And it's for your viewing pleasure. Here's hoping that it's entertaining someone, 'cause it's sure as hell not entertaining me.

But it's funny, nonetheless. Or at least interesting. I'm trying to see the meaning behind all these changes, the message that something is trying to deliver to me, if any. Do you believe in that stuff? That certain "things" or signs or signals mean something? I go back and forth. I used to be such a non-believer in fate; I didn't buy any of that shit. It used to seem to me that everything was arbitrary, all 1's and 0's, science and math. But lately I've been noticing some things, strange things - things that are unequivocally pointing me in certain directions. It's like the Universe is handing out yes and no answers to my questions, sometimes even before I ask them. Sorta like my own personal magic 8 ball. Cool.

So, since I've been back, it seems that every few days there's a new predicament, a shift, an evolution - lucky me, I can handle it! I wrote once that I don't fear change - I kick change's ass. I stand by my words, but in all honestly, it's starting to get me down. It's hard to stand strong when the earth is shaking wildly beneath your feet.

The newest change in my life is the living situation. Originally, and we're talking when I was still in Berlin, the plan was for me to move into a little granny unit on a property my parents owned. Well, that fell through, thanks mostly to my father's partner paul and his inability to finish any project he starts. So I basically moved into my parent's house. Hey, it's not too bad - it's warm, there's food, cable and internet. It's comfortable. And, of course, it's my parent's house - meaning, I get to spend a lot of time with them. It's actually quite nice, after going from no parents for one year to all the parents you can handle and more. After all, my family was the primary reason why I moved home. They are older, my folks, and I've always worried (deep down inside, secretly) about how much time I'll have with them.

I digress. Sleeping on the floor of my old bedroom in their house, on a foam pad, surrounded by my dad's collection of old radios and electronic gear (he decided to turn my bedroom into a little play pad for himself after I moved out) wasn't the most comfortable situation in the world for me. Even more problematic was how it's been making me feel - the neither here nor there impermanence of it all has only added to my feeling of physical, mental and emotional disorganization. I've realized how important it is to have a space, you know, a room of one's own, so to speak. A place to gather your thoughts and your things and your self. I don't have this right now and I long for it.

So... You're asking: When is she getting to the ch-ch-ch-changes part? Well read on. I decided that it would be a great thing to move downtown with my friend Chris, who coincidentally had a free room opening up this Sunday. For only $375 bucks a month! Great deal, right? Even though I didn't have a whole lotta cash, I knew I had a job. Well that's ch-ch-change #1 - it's not that I don't have a job, it's just that I have a boss who deflects any attempt I make to work. For reasons unknown (but I have some good guesses), the guy flaked on 4 out of 4 scheduled meetings with me in the last week. I needed to meet with him in order to work. Without meeting, I didn't have the information I needed to do the job to make the money to pay the rent... etc.

Even with the job thing falling apart (and yes I have since started looking elsewhere), I was still going to try to move in with Chris. I knew it would be worth it, and it would be great - I could walk everywhere or ride my little bike, drive my car less, go out to the bars and not have to worry about getting home. Oh, and most importantly, I would be out of suburbia. In the back of my mind, however, a little voice of reason was saying - you're going back to Berlin in April - shouldn't you take advantage of the free rent at home and save up as much as possible? I didn't listen. My mind was made up.

But it wasn't to be. Chris called me yesterday to let me know that it seemed like too much trouble, after everything, to get me on the lease, have me move in, and still find someone for the third available room, all by the end of the month. He was going to move in with his girlfriend instead. All I can say about that is it would have been nice to know this a little earlier.

So what can you do when life throws this shit at you? You run with it, that's what you do. Things change and you adapt. What other option is there? So I'll stay in suburbia, move into the G unit, gather my thoughts and my things and my self, and make it as much a place to call home as possible. I desperately need to re-center, stabilize - as I fear I am beginning to fall apart, just a little bit. My friend Ekki arrives from Berlin on Sunday night at SFO - so not only do I have to have the place ready for myself, but for my guest. It shouldn't be too hard.

Pure unadulterated dribble

2008-12-13T12:35:00.000-08:00

I just realized that the background colors of my blog remind me of what ends up in a baby's diaper after they've eaten one too many jars of pureed figs. Mixed with pureed carrots. Mixed with some of mom's milk. On a very gassy day. Any color scheme suggestions?

run for the border

2008-12-12T01:34:00.000-08:00

It's been a year since I've had taco bell... mmmm.... fast food never tasted so good. The bean burrito was spicy, though! So was the cheese quesadilla. Usually I go for the basics, you know, like bean burritos and cheese quesadillas. I am a gringo, remember? A pinche cabron! Err... Anyway, I called my friend Peter up around 9, not wanting to go home just yet (although adult swim woulda been nice to watch - still, I'd rather be out). So we g0t together at this bar called Stockman's in old Fair Oaks village - it's a dive, but a great one. Two lop-sided pool tables, loud AC/DC and GNR - a game of pool is only 75 cents! Sweeeet! A few Newcastles and we were having fun... and then the place was invaded by tweakers. So we left, went to a pool hall called Players. Had a pitcher of Bass, turned out to be too much beer for little old me, but I drank it anyway, like a champ.

Then, I ran for the border. And it was good... I guess I missed Adult Swim after all, but who needs the tv when you can go to a bar and kick your friend's ass at pool? (official score: jessica 6, peter 1... what?!?)

Good times.

Ex - S'cruz me? weekend recap

2008-12-08T20:44:00.000-08:00

I'll just start this one off by saying how grateful I am that I can simply take off in my car for weekend adventures. Not everybody can do stuff like this - that's the beauty of the freedom I have now. There's no husband or kids in tow, no dogs or horses or other strange creatures to think about at home. Larry the cat can take care of himself. I also have a job in which leaving early on a Friday and missing Monday completely is no problem. I'm only in charge of me, and that's the way I like it.

Let me also praise the ether for sending my once-stolen car back to me, sans-radio, for trips like this. Even though my decade-old Civic just hit the 180,000 mile mark, it's still runnin' like a champ. I'm also grateful for my modern day ghetto blaster (or portable Ipod speaker system) that I get to rock out to while driving. Without you, I'd be lost. And bored. And singing to myself like a crazy lady. Oh and thanks to Michelle, Rhiannon and Chris for letting me sleep in their living room.

So, I rolled into town on Friday around 5pm. The sky was gorgeous, and I hadn't seen these signs for a while, so I took a photo out of my car window as I was plopped down into the city of Santa Cruz, right off of Hwy 17.

On Saturday afternoon I met a lady walking her pet duck on the beach. The duck was on a leash, and his name was Quackers. The lady was on drugs, and her name was Miss Love. She let me hold Quackers for a picture - at first I declined, but then realized it's not so often you get a photo opp like that. So I went for it! Quackers was a bit wet and dirty and I was afraid I he was going to jump out of my arms. But he didn't even wiggle - he was a very well-behaved duck. Apparently, Miss Love would take him out for walks everyday - but not always to the ocean. The ocean was one of his favorite places, she told me, but he also really liked going to festivals. Festivals! That's one lucky duck!

This is a photo I really liked. Notice the moon in the upper left hand corner - extra cool 'cause the sun was setting at the same time. Ahh, earth. You're beautiful.

So that was Saturday. On Sunday, Michelle, Rhiannon and I went to the Goodwill Bargain Barn, a magically mysterious wonderland of goodies (read: crap) where you can buy everything for $1 a pound! Yowsers!! People go ape shit for the place - and why wouldn't they?!? Every morning at ten A.M, the doors open, and the few dozen random people who have been waiting at the entrance rush in, all Supermarket Sweep and shit. From clothes to furniture to books to records to shoes to dishes, the Barn has it all. It even has used undies! Um, tip - wear gloves whilst digging. A face mask is sometimes smart as well. It's a dirty adventure.

This place used to be an old haunt of mine; I'd try to hit up the Barn as often as I could. I even became friends with one of the cashiers there, Dudu, from Senegal. Dudu was hecka cool - he gave me a good friend discount on top of their already dirt cheap prices. I hit up the barn twice last weekend and came away with some gems, for sure, including a sweet 80's cat sweatshirt that made Michelle super jealous, and a brand new percolator for making coffee on the stove. Here's Barn life at it's best:

Above: little Mexican kid chillin' out, doing some light reading (Sponge Bob, I think?) while mom and pop scavenge for crap to sell for profit at the flea market. I don't blame him. Waiting is boring! Below: Michelle in the midst of it all, trying not to burst with the excitement of digging through all that crap!

After the Barn, Michelle and I drove up to the UCSC campus. In addition to all the new construction that had been done over the past few years, and on top of all the other weird shit that goes on up there, UCSC is now home to numerous tree dwellers. The whole thing started over a year ago, when the University wanted to chop down some redwood trees to build new science buildings. Instead of chaining themselves to the trunks, these ambitious little hippies climbed up to the tops and somehow built "homes" for themselves. To live in. For an undetermined amount of time. Their "homes" seemed to basically be a jumble of boards to sit on, tarps to keep the rain and wind out, and glass jars to pee in. After they were all situated in their little abodes, apparently they started throwing things down at the people and cars below. You know, 'cause the people passing by and the cars parked in the lot were the ones responsible for the construction. Riiight.

Anyway, there are signs posted all over the area so you know just what you're getting into. Unfortunately, neither Michelle nor myself saw any movement inside these tree houses, and luckily didn't get hit by any debris, either. But, it still made for a great photo, and an even better weekend. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!

Jesus Loves Me

2008-12-07T23:48:00.000-08:00

Sorry, but this topic had to emerge from the grave. The Bad Blog of the Day had to come back to life. See, about a month or so ago, I decided to remove a blog of mine. I sorta got busted talking shit about another blog. Some random reader found my blog, tracked down the blog I was bad mouthing, and left a comment for them, letting them know that my blog had attacked their blog because they were Christians. Um, hello, wtf? First of all, you're a tattle tale. Secondly, I did not attack them because they were Christians. I attacked them because they were Mormons.

Both my friends Amy and Conor agreed the blog should stay up. I took it down anyway, and you know why? Not because I felt bad about what I had done, but because I got busted. Busted! Shit. Let me tell you something, and this is the truth: I'm really not an evil-hearted person. I'm not even mean! In my opinion, I think I'm actually quite nice. I stop at crosswalks and let people cross when I'm in my car, I turn in wallets when I find them, I even gladly offer my seat to old people when I'm riding public transport. But I also have another side, when it comes to my sense of humor. At times, it can definitely be biting and raw, and sometimes even crosses the line. Certain folks might find what I have to say offensive. Ahem. But then again it depends on what you take seriously and what you can dismiss as shit that's not worth getting uptight over. It's that whole philosophy some comics have, like "if I target everyone, all races, classes, sexes, etc., then no one can be offended. I've talked shit about all groups, equally." Or something like that.

Eh, maybe I'm just trying to justify my writing.

Anyway, the blog's back up. It's buried, though, so you'll have to search for it a bit, if you want to read it. And read the comment associated with it, too. That was the funniest part. It gave me a real chuckle, and for those of you who know me and know what I've been up to, you'll laugh too.

So, what prompted this re-publishing of a once-removed blog? I found another one. It comes from a Sarah Palin fan - yes, they still exist - and it's quite, quite scary. Like, dirty crazy ghost girl climbing out of the tv set in The Ring scary, or Blair Witch Project before we all knew it was fake scary. Oooh... I just got chills. I'm going to run the risk of telling you about it, seeing that it is the U.S. and there is such a thing as freedom of speech and freedom of the press (but there's also that whole concept of libel - or writing nasty shit about someone. How does that work?? What I mean is, freedom of speech vs. libel laws: who wins?)

The author's name is Laura, and "Laura" is in "quotes." So... her name isn't Laura? I'm already scared. She calls herself a "Theological Activist," and her blog isn't just about Sarah Palin. Oh no. Her blog has a purpose - to "effect a return to the foundation of the bible, Jesus Christ and our constitution." Great! Now they're not only letting the crazies out early, but they're giving them urls too!

Admittedly, I've never really been into Jesus. I just wasn't raised that way. And then when I got older, started learning, gleaning knowledge and using my brain, I discovered some things. Like the whole primordial soup thing, the big bang thing, the theory of evolution thing, the Charles Darwin thing, the humans-are-directly-linked-to-primates thing... you get the picture. I'd say by the age of 22 or so, the deal was pretty much sealed. The dishes are done, dude! I was sold on science.

Back to the Palin blogger. I can't even describe her blog to you, so I'm going to do some quoting. Here goes. In her most recent blog, one she's titled "Nice...and evil", she's written:

"People are evil...You focus on civility rather than the reality of spiritual good and evil. Satan has it all over you when you fail to live at a spiritual level in God in Christ... This is why Obama won this election... and you are bending over backwards to be "nice and polite" and "civil" to your enemies who most likely line you up and put you AND YOUR CHILDREN in a gas chamber...and not be nice or polite about it.

You're dealing with evil."

WOW. Wow wow wowowowie.

"This is why Obama won this election"?!? "You are bending over backwards...to your enemies who most likely line you up and put you AND YOUR CHILDREN in a gas chamber" ?!?!?!?

Let's take a pause here while we all try to struggle with the disbelief that people like this do exist and live in our country. A lot of them do. People who, it seems to me, put more faith in faith than in science, more emphasis on religion than on history.

What's worse, is that there's a whole network of conservative women bloggers (I'm not trying to be sexist, just pointing out the facts) called Read My Lips Network. At first, I thought, hey! Women bloggers! Cool! But then all I had to do was click, and I soon found out that I was sadly mistaken. The ladies associated with the Read My Lips Network might not be completely off their rockers, like our Jesus freak friend "Laura," but their network includes multiple, multiple pro-Sarah Palin articles. Additionally, there's some homeland security stuff, an Anti-Obama campaign advertisement, and an article offering advice about combating faith-based discrimination thrown in for good measure. How could you be anti-Obama when he's just so doggone cute??

For a second I thought I was going down a very dark, very dangerous path. If I kept on digging, kept on clicking, who knows what sort of blog, what sort of information I would have found. Right-wing Christians? Certainly. More Palin fans? Oh yeah. Would I have stumbled on worse? I'm afraid so.

On the other hand - and the other hand deserves at least a paragraph here - freedom of speech goes both ways, doesn't it? The Palin posse is probably thinking the exact same thoughts about people like me, asking "who the f**k does that bitch think she is, anyway?" I am hesitant to do so, but in a really weird way, I give them credit for writing the stuff and publishing it. I just so happen to disagree with it. With every fiber of my being.

20-20

2008-12-06T23:34:00.000-08:00

Coming back to Santa Cruz has been weird. Weird and wonderful. Being back here is such a dichotomy, a conundrum, a mind fuck. There's a fondness I feel for this place, but it's very bittersweet as well. So many places here are associated with a time of my life that feels like a lifetime ago. But feeling the warm sun on my face on an early December afternoon is amazing; so is watching it set into the Pacific ocean, sinking into the water like a drowning victim who knows there's no use to struggle. And nothing is more Northern California, more quintessentially Santa Cruz, than standing on the beach in flip-flops, latte in one hand and spliff in the other, watching the sun fall away.

Santa Cruz is strange, for sure. It's one of a kind, an anomaly. But its weirdness is what makes it beautiful. That, and the fact that it's the Northern California coast. Come on, you can imagine the beauty of the sunsets here, can't you? The death of a day has never been so beautiful. Colors are reflected off the water and into the sky, pink bleeds into lavender which quickly dissolves to orange. Scattered clouds are bits of sinewy cotton candy. The darkness and depth of the forest surrounding the water is as black as the oncoming night; the contrast between sky and trees is profound. As the sun drops, as the day slowly crawls toward twilight, the pigment thickens, darkens, intensifies. The moment was, like many others in my life recently, overwhelming.

Only adding to my rush of emotion was the fact that I was standing there, sharing that spliff and that latte, with my ex of 4 years. It's been a year since I've seen the guy, and 2 and a half years since that chapter of my life ended. When we broke up, it made sense to move back to Sacramento, a place that I hadn't called home for 5 years. Our relationship, stagnant and disconnected in the end, was over, leaving me with a whole lot of sorrow, a noticeable broken heart, and a constant deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. It also left me with new options. I was alone, without any commitments. What could I do now? What was I capable of? It took a bit of time to figure those questions out, but eventually I learned that I was capable of a lot of things.

Who was I back then? I thought I was happy - that's now debatable. I lived in a little cottage house next to the beach, I had a great job, I was in a relationship. But I quietly yearned to leave. I wanted a change of scenery. I knew there was more to life and I wanted to discover what it was. But I didn't think I could do it alone. Fast forward. Through the break up and the wondering what the hell to do and the decision to move back home and the short stint in the Corporate World. Fast forward a little more. The decision to leave for Europe and the hesitation in the very end and the finally getting on the plane. Throw in the year I spent away, the experiences I gathered, the people I met. Add the independence I found, the freedom I discovered, the power to design and manifest my life the way I wanted it. And now we find ourselves in the present. I think about the girl I was then and the girl I am now. It's still the same old me, the same basic hardware, but with an updated operating manual, a new tech support team, a fresh pot of coffee in the break room. It's the same old me, but really, it isn't.

And that's what I've been trying to explain to people. It's not like I left California or stayed away for so long because I wanted to run away from something. It wasn't about postponing the reality of being a "grown-up," stalling on making "career path" decisions, playing hooky from the Grand Scheme. I was just living my life, and my life felt real. I'd like to keep that attitude with me, that whole living attitude, you know? I want to do what feels right, I want to push myself, and I want to enjoy the time I have, immensely. Because it's fleeting. You realize that, don't you? Mortality: Hard to understand, easy to forget. We won't last forever. The sun dies a tiny death every day, but ours will be final. I'd rather not fill mine up with glaring overhead lights, asphyxiating cubicles, carpel tunnel syndrome and water cooler bullshit.

I almost didn't get on that plane, back in October last year. I almost didn't go through with it. And when I say almost, I mean all-fucking-most. Regret is a bitch, and I know the old bag would have popped up right quick if I hadn't have gone away. I made the right choice, I know that now. But I could have easily made the wrong one. You do what you think is right at the time, what you think is best. Sometimes what is right and what is best are very difficult to discern, and maybe, when it all boils down, there is no "right" decision. But you do what you can, and with all you've got. Like a leaf in a stream, hoping for a steady current, trying not to get caught in a whirlpool.

So it feels good to be here, to be re-visiting and re-evaluating the past but not stuck in it. To be looking forward, even though I have no idea what the future will bring, and that thought sorta scares the shit out of me. But it scares the shit out of most of us, doesn't it? Somehow that thought is comforting, that we're all just floating along, not knowing what's in front of that next bend. I'll keep looking ahead, although I'm sure that every now and then, something shiny in my peripheral will catch my eye, and I may turn away to take a peek.

Where you at?

2008-12-04T13:26:00.001-08:00

This just came back to me: I woke up this morning, disoriented in that not really asleep, not really awake sort of way. I woke up and thought I was in Berlin. I was so warm and cozy, and the thought of being back was so nice.

But then of course I realized there was no way I was in Berlin, 'cause 1) my bed totally sucked in Berlin and 2) it's kinda freezing-ass cold in Northern Germany. That reminds me... I wonder how Chico the cancer-ridden dog is doing. He was my roommate Annabelle's, and he was white and hairy and old and during my last weeks usually wore a big white plastic cone on his head. He was comic relief. Hopefully, if it was cancer, he's in that big doggie park in the sky, sniffing asses and peeing on trees, maybe even doing a little doggy style.

So, I guess I'm still in California, then, huh? Too bad it's grey here, and cold. However, this weekend should be better, 'cause I'll be in Santa Cruz. Ahh, the California coast. There's nowhere more beautiful in the whole, wide world. I'll even take pictures (on my newly found camera I thought I lost at my reunion - it was in a coat pocket, go figure) to prove it.

Lover, you should have come over

2008-12-02T22:49:00.000-08:00

Thank you to Alex from New York (upstate, mind you) who introduced me, finally, to the great, the beautiful, the deceased, Jeff Buckley.

Do yourself a favor. Listen to this song. Close your eyes, even, and listen:

And then look at this:

And now read this:

Jeffrey Scott Buckley (November 17, 1966 – May 29, 1997), raised as Scotty Moorhead,^[1] was an American singer-songwriter and guitarist. He was the son of Tim Buckley, also a musician. Buckley gained popularity in the early 1990s by playing cover songs at venues in Manhattan's East Village, such as Sin-é, and he gradually focused more on his own material. After much interest from record labels he signed with Columbia and, after recruiting a band, recorded what would be his first and only studio album, Grace.

Over the following two years, the band toured widely to promote the album, including concerts in the U.S., Europe, Japan and Australia. In 1997, he stopped touring and moved to Memphis, Tennessee, to experiment with new material for a second album. During his time there, he recorded many four-track demos and completed his third recording session for his new album with his band, with Tom Verlaine as producer. While awaiting the arrival of his band from New York, he drowned during an evening swim in the Wolf River. His body was found on June 4, 1997.^[2]

twenty nine

2008-11-30T02:34:00.000-08:00

Twenty nine twenty nine twenty niine 29 29. 9 and twenty. nine & 20. I'm 29. Whoa. It's my birthday.

After getting home, buzzed, from attending my 10th year high school reunion, I've realized something. Keep going forward. Don't look back unless you have to. And if you have to, make it quick.

tired

2008-11-27T18:06:00.000-08:00

I feel rundown. Over-stimulated, under-nourished. Sleep deprived. Too much alcohol, too much going out, too much California green. Not enough sleep. Too much family drama. When did my life become a soap opera? I want to come home and have someone there waiting for me. I want to crawl into bed with another warm body, wrap myself up in them and drift asleep. I want to say goodnight to someone other than my cat Larry. Someone a little bigger, less hairy, more human. Definitely someone with opposable thumbs. This would be ideal. Someone who shares my sense of humor. Someone who gets me. I'm just tired. These are my ramblings.

I think I'll run off now and join my parents at the table for Thanksgiving. Gorge myself on some ham and then sleep. Yes.

Slow it down, buddy. Slow it down.

2008-11-25T11:14:00.000-08:00

I had an airport dream last night. I was waiting for a ride from my parents to the airport. They were supposed to be at my house at 7am for a 10am flight. Somehow, in that famous non-sequitor dream-like fashion, I didn't notice they were late until 9. I grabbed my plethora of bags and along with a faceless friend, we caught a cab. I distinctly remember it was a van taxi. And there was a another dude waiting at the curb, first in line. I didn't care. We ran up to the cab in front of him and got in.

At the airport, we were hauling ass. The place looked like an old, skanky, run down love motel. Worn-out carpets with cigarette burns, yellowing wallpaper, tired staff. Either that, or a cruise ship. 10am rolled around and we were still at the wrong terminal. I vaguely remember something about needing terminal B, which of course we were far away from.

I missed my flight. I remember being really disappointed. It's funny, though - I just can't remember whether the flight was back to Berlin, or home to California.

Today is the one week mark. My friend Sean asked me last night, after we got back to his place from being downtown with friends, if I was adjusted to being back or if I was still in shock. I brought up the fact that just earlier that night, I nearly had a heart attack on the freeway, sitting in the passenger seat of his 2006 BMW M3, watching in terror as the freeway disappeared underneath us. As his beautiful beast of car picked up speed going into the curves, I realized it'd been a year since I was in that position. And tried not to freak out. I actually even had to ask him to take it easy.

"Sean," I said, "It's been a year. I need you to take it a little slower." There was a long pause, as he was presumably trying to find the appropriate words in response to such a sensitive question. He looked at me and replied, "Are you talking about driving?"

Ten years and counting...

2008-11-22T17:17:00.000-08:00

So this little piece I just whipped together for my 10 year high school reunion, which happens on the 29th. It's my "bio." Yeah I guess even I have one. Enjoy.

How to sum up ten years in a little box? I'll do my best. After graduation, I stuck around Sacramento for 3 years, attending American River College and working. In December of '99 I went back to Europe for the second time (the first was a trip with some DC classmates during the summer before senior year) on a backpacking trip with my then-boyfriend. I left American River in 2001 with an A.A. degree and transferred to UC Santa Cruz. Admittedly, it was the location of the place that sold me. Situated high up on a hill, UCSC is spread out in the middle of the redwoods, and overlooks the Pacific Ocean. These were just a few of the perks; the quality of life there was absolutely amazing.

Throughout college I always worked. Some jobs were boring, like working for Starbucks or telemarketing. Others were totally bitchin,' like driving the beer cart at an upscale golf course/country club that included two holes with ocean views, or freelancing for a local arts and entertainment magazine called The Good Times. Life in Santa Cruz spoiled me though; I now understood the magic of not relying on a car for all transportation needs, the beauty of farmer's markets and green living, and being a part of a very liberal, left of the center, creative community. I guess you can say I became a bit of a hippy - without the patchouli oil and dredlocks. I graduated with honors in 2003 with a B.A. in American Studies and a minor in Literature, and continued writing for The Good Times as well as another local mag. Soon after graduation I started doing sales for a Santa Cruz jewelry designer. That job sent me all around the country to art and music festivals and wholesale and retail shows, to cities like Seattle, Washington D.C., Atlanta, and all over California. All in all, it was a stellar time.

The travel bug never left, nor did the desire to write - which I have to credit Mr. Reilly, High School Newspaper teacher extraordinaire, for helping me realize. Over the next few years I took trips to Canada, Costa Rica, Thailand, and Cambodia with an ex-boyfriend of four years. Globe trotting certainly has it's benefits, like swimming in warm tropical oceans and lounging on beaches, riding motorbikes in Bangkok, and traipsing through the jungles of Cambodia, discovering ruins of ancient temples. Think Tomb Raider in Tevas.

Sometime around the end of 2006 I moved back to Sacramento, and before starting a job as a manager for a major retail corporation (a short-lived stint that I would learn to loathe; I quickly discovered the old adage of "money doesn't equal happiness if your job totally sucks"), I drove to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. By myself. For a month. Almost ended up not coming back. Awesomeness clearly ensued.

I quit the corporate world in August of '07 and on October 30th, my best friend from Santa Cruz and I got on a plane bound for London. Our return flight was for March - it was supposed to be a four month trip. She ended up coming back to the states in January, I stayed away for over a year. During my time on the continent, I travelled all over Western and Central Europe, dabbled a bit in some of the Eastern countries (Czech Republic, Hungary, and almost Serbia - long story), and for 11 glorious months, lived in Berlin, Germany. And it was AMAZING. Words can't really do justice, so I won't even try.

As far as my family goes, not so much has changed in the past ten years. My dad retired this year and then immediately started up a business with a friend; I don't know if he'll ever stop working. With the recent shitty economy, my folks don't drive all over the city on the weekends anymore looking for treasures at garage sales, but they seem happy.

You're probably thinking, after reading this bio, that I'm not your typical 28 year old American female. That's ok; you're right. I'm far from it. But even the atypical folks have to eat, so I recently decided to write a book about some of my experiences. Hopefully it'll be a big hit and I'll make millions! If not, it'll be a nice Christmas present for the fam. I'll be back in Berlin in April - already have the ticket - and this time I'm not quite sure how long I'll stay away. For now, though, travel and living outside of the box are my priorities, even though this will probably change later on. While many of my friends and peers are busy with starting careers, raising babies or paying mortgages - which I fully respect - I have chosen a life that's a little less than ordinary. And it works.

Lost in the suburbs, again

2008-11-21T11:02:00.000-08:00

Last night I drove to my friend Sean's house, who lives (not quite literally) around the corner from me. Most of my friends live downtown, but Sean shares my burden of also living in the suburbs. I left his place at around midnight, after hours of talking, listening to new music that both he and I had acquired in the last year, gift-exchanging (I brought him back a print of the Berlin wall with Alexanderplatz in the background; he gave me a pair of vintage 1970s white sunglasses from Portland), and smoking, finally, pure Cali weed - from a pipe. So, yes, I was admittedly a bit "out of it" on my trip home, but I'm sure it was that, coupled with the fact that I hadn't been at Sean's place or even in this city in over a year, which aided me in losing my way home.

Driving through the darkness, tying to ascertain where the hell I was and where the fuck I was going, I found myself winding down roads that curved and snaked on forever, with only the low golden glow of the street lights to guide my way. The confusion grew; I realized I was lost. And that's when I saw the street signs. Amsterdam passed slowly on my right, followed by Cologne.

I have to ask the question. What am I doing here? I have a knot in my stomach and it's tightening up as I write this and seems to now be turning into nausea. I don't think it was the oatmeal I had for breakfast.

I miss Berlin. I miss that life. But it's only been 3 days.

10 minutes, 7 snotty tissues, and 2 tear-stained cheeks later...

I just got off the phone with my father, after emotionally breaking down. It's the second time in my adult life that I can remember showing this kind of emotion in front of my parents. The first was in Europe, last year, over a situation far worse. I got through that. I know I'll get through this. It's just that right now, I don't feel so powerful, or independent, or positive. I feel like I've come back to a big mess and I'm stuck smack dab in the middle of it. I don't generally like admitting weakness. Does anyone? But sometimes it's necessary to break. It's the natural progression of energy; there's a build up followed by a dismantling, a breakdown. I feel like the knot has loosened a bit. A bit.

The phone conversation, though, wasn't about my transition back to the states, my feeling of being lost in suburbia, my trepidation over our failed economy. On top of those feelings of confusion tainted with excitement and regret, I am also feeling frustration, stress and anxiety, thanks to my family and the project that has been their worst nightmare for the past two years. I'll try to explain. I can't promise it will be brief.

Two years ago, my parents bought property in an older, wooded part of Citrus Heights (the suburb of Sacramento in which they live). It was my father's idea, his idea only. My mother, from the beginning, was adamantly opposed to the venture. But, in the typical way that is Mr. Dale Tucker, he didn't listen. They bought it anyway. She still regrets signing the papers. That was two years ago.

The idea was that they would sub-divide the one acre lot, splitting it down the middle, and separate the front half (with a two-story, uber-funky, super janky, decrepit and certainly haunted house from 1908 and an empty pool that neighborhood kids use as a skate ramp in the summertime) from the back half (with a white plastic-sided white-trash trailor and a garage with a Granny unit, or g-unit, above it). They would then sell the front half, demolish the white-trash trailer and build a modular home in it's place. Next, they would move the 30 years worth of collected shit from their current house (a half mile away from the property) and plunk it down in the modular home. Oh, and then live happily ever after. Riiiight.

Instead, this is what happened : seeing as they had basically been conned into purchasing Salem's lot (I'm surprised it didn't end up being an Indian burial ground) by a quick-talking real estate salesman during perhaps the most horrible time in U.S. real estate history, the lot is still in the family. It just sits there, begrudgingly. Unmoving, with the historic oak trees - crooked, silent, majestic - as the house's only friends. Waiting.

Everyone seems to hate the place. It has become the thorn in my parents' side, the cancerous tumor that grows bigger and won't detach. Detach!! I say. But it won't listen.

I have the pleasure of living on the lot, in the little freshly painted white-walled g-unit above the garage. I have a little alcove for my bed, a stove that doesn't work, floors that aren't finished, a toilet that is completely torn apart, and, apparently, people coming in and out unnannounced, as they please, attempting to "work" on the place. All I know is what I see, and what I've seen makes me irritated. On top of all these emotions of confusion, regret, displacement, I now deal with a feeling of being uncomfortable in my space. An unsafeness at home. Two nights ago (my second night back), I arrived at the g-unit to find my front door wide open and the lights on inside. Thinking surely there would be someone there working on the place, I was disappointed and disturbed to find no on inside when I entered. Let me stress that I am living alone here and that the property is old and dark and set in a bit from the street. I'm usually proud to say that I'm a bad ass motherfucker, but even the baddest get uneasy sometimes. Then last night I returned home to find the door locked, but the toilet leaking and dismantled.

If it's not one thing, it's another.

It's just things like these that add to the already difficult transition. And then, every time I see my mother, she starts in about the whole thing, how my dad doesn't listen, how nothing is getting done, how Paul (my father's partner and "project manager" of this lot fiasco), promises everything and delivers nothing. And when either she or I attempt to talk to my dad, to open lines of communication about the place, to express concern about the process, we are shut down. He is growing older, impatient, and grumpy. And apparently doesn't favor talking about important subjects like the aforementioned.

All in all, it's a beautiful lot. It even comes with Larry, the cat. It's a peaceful place, despite all the turmoil surrounding it. I think I could make it a nice space, in time, with help. It's still nothing compared to Berlin, but it'll do, for now.

Looks like the knot is loosening even more. Thanks for reading.

homecoming

2008-11-20T07:50:00.000-08:00

It's 7:51 in the AM, the morning sun is streaming through the window, I'm drinking the remnants of a now cold coffee, and NPR's on the radio in the background. I am home. Well, home, at my parents' house in Citrus Heights, California. Not much has changed here. They've accumulated more stuff, adding to the very embarrassing cluster fuck that is their house. I am NOT looking forward to going through this mess when they're gone. But after a year of being away, they're pretty much the same people I left last October. Still bicker like nothing else, still make me laugh, still annoy me like any family can. My dad seems older though, a bit, and more forgetful. He went out "for drinks" with his friend/business partner yesterday. This is new. He never did that before, this "going for drinks" thing. Shit, retirement must change you. I guess you are now allowed more time to get drunk at the Elephant Bar with your buddies and less time to worry about things like productivity and client relations. I mean, jeez, hopefully when I'm 68 and "retired" I'll be sipping G&Ts at my local Elephant Bar, too. Although my mother may not love her husband's new hobby, they seem pretty happy still.

Let me clarify a bit on the retirement thing. The man retired this year in May or something, then about 2 months later started up a company with this Paul guy, selling used radio station equipment on Ebay. I'm going to work for them and should be starting any day now. Which is great, because I have no dollars left. I have euros, but no dollars. And I'm having a hell of a time trying to figure out how to convert them and get the best exchange rate. It's ridiculous. Yesterday, XE.com said that 1 euro = 1.24 dollars. (Back around summertime it was 1 euro = 1.69 dollars). My bank offers to change my euros into dollars at a rate of 1.14 or some bullshit. So here I was, all excited to be bringing home euros, thinking I'd be making a killing when I exchanged them, only to come home while the dollar is doing better than it has in the last year and it seems impossible even to get the average market rate.

There's so much I have to do here. It's not that I'm feeling overwhelmed... I seldom feel overwhelmed, somehow, thankfully, but what I'm feeling right now is close to that. Let me just make a list (this will help me and may or may not be interesting to you).

To Do (in no particular order. They're just popping up into my brain.)

1) Get dollars. I'd like change as few Euros as possible so when I return to Berlin next year (oh yeah, by the way, I'm going back in April) I'll have some money. But I have bills here, like credit cards and other things (see numbers 2 and 3)

2) Pay off my warrant for arrest (!!!) for a speeding ticket I never took care of. This will cost me $569. Then, when a cop is behind me and wants to run my plate for some reason (perhaps because my registration expired in January? see number 4), he won't take me directly to jail.

3) Fix my stereo/entire dashboard of car. Back in the summer, my car was stolen. I know, I have all the luck, right? Instead of taking out the radio, these fuckers cut out the the WHOLE fucking thing, heating system/air conditioning and all. This will probably cost me almost as much as number 2.

4) Pay my registration. In order to do that I have to:

5) Get my car smogged

Ugghhh now I'm feeling overwhelmed. But wait, there's more!

6) Get through thanksgiving

7) Attend (but first sign up and pay for) my 10 year high school reunion

and finally,
8) Enjoy my 29th birthday.

I think I will be drinking a lot this holiday season. In all seriousness, it's good - I think - to be back. Haven't seen any friends yet, but I have plans to get together with a bunch of people on Friday for - you guessed it - drinks. Until then, I have my list to work on. And some gnarly jet lag to shake.

Noch Drei Tage

2008-11-14T10:21:00.000-08:00

I am freaking out. Freaking OUT: I leave Berlin on Monday. My friend Amit told me "you will always have a home here." And I believe him. In the 11 months I've lived in Berlin, I've had a lifetime's worth of adventures, met a lifetime's worth of wonderful friends, made a home for myself. It was really easy to do that here, because this city is amazing. I think I am in trouble though, coming back to Sacramento after being spoiled with such a beautiful life. This may just be the start of a new love-love bi-continent relationship. I may just have to start flying away for the spring and coming back home (which one is home now, anyway?) for the winter. What I mean though, what would be ideal, is winters in California and the rest of the year in Berlin. There's still so much more to see and do, so many more people to meet, so much more of this beautiful (ha) German language to learn.

An idyllic life? Almost. Now the thought creeps into my head: the only thing missing is a partner. I can't roam alone for ever.

8 days left

2008-11-09T13:06:00.000-08:00

One week from tomorrow and I'll be gone. It's been officially over a year, and it's officially time to go. I've made a home here, a life, friends. All these things I will have to leave.

I threw a little going away party last night for a number of reasons. For me, of course, to see everyone before I leave. For my (now) ex-boss Stefan, who left today for Southeast Asia, and in a way, for my friend Annika, who left me and this city for the second time this morning, on her way back to Finland. Of everyone who left, I think Patryk was the first. He headed out for Australia, to see who would win in a fist fight between himself and the continent. Natalie followed; left for love that seems to be currently unraveling at the seams. And then Annika went. This was a big blow. She was my best friend here, we connected on a level I don't usually get to with most people. And then Amy went. And over my 8 or so months of pub crawl, I am the last left of the original group.

People leave this city. It's a transient place. It doesn't help when all of your friends are travelers or couchsurfers or crazy nomadic folk who know there is more out there and who won't stop until they find it.

And in 8 days, that will be me. I am ready.

a prostitute and a 70's coke head prom queen walk into a bar...

2008-10-30T04:42:00.000-07:00

Holy Chicken Shit, Batman! I was going to write a post today about my costume for Halloween (which is tomorrow), but as Michelle and I landed in London last Halloween, of course the holiday sparks a much more important reference for me - One fucking year since I left California! Wow! JC! (JC = Jesus Christ. I just use his initials now). Exclamation exclamation exclamation!

I remember last year. I was not only debating whether or not to actually go on the trip (Michelle convinced me to get on the plane. She said, "Just get on the plane!" And then, she promised, I could turn around and come right back home if I wanted, for the small change fee of $150 bucks from Virgin airlines. See, there was a boy involved. That was the problem), I was debating whether or not to pack a costume for our four-month journey. Now, carrying a Halloween costume on your back for four months may not have been the smartest or most practical decision, but at the time, I was positive that our journey would NOT last longer than 2 months. Maybe even a month and a half. Well kids, I couldn't have been more wronger, 'cause momma, look at me now!

I never ended up celebrating Halloween last year the way it should be celebrated - in costume. However, I did see one of the coolest costumes I've ever encountered at that London hostel Michelle and I stayed at for two nights. Remember the SNL skit "Dick in a box"? The one Justin Timberlake and some other dude were in? Where they had a present for the ladies, and it was in a box, and the box just so happened to be at penis-height?

I'll just say I got to see that skit live that night.

So this year, it's down to the wire, and I have a really big, really awesome, really hilarious costume planned - but I am afraid, at this point, it won't be realized. I thought it would be really funny to dress up like one of those Ladies of the Night that walk (ok they don't do so much walking, more standing around and cornering men as they pass by) down Oranienburger Strasse on any given night. Anyone who's been in Berlin in that area in the evening knows the ones. And since I am going to somewhat of a work party, I thought my pub crawl mates could appreciate it too. Shit, the pub crawl speech even mentions them. So, funny, yes. But easy - no. Their "outfits" consist of those sorta knee-high, white shiny leathery something or other fuck me boots, a puffy pink or white or black jacket, a corset pulled in rib-breakingly tight (usually the color of the boots) worn over the jacket, a fanny pack to match the jacket, and tight jeans, usually of the 80's acid washed variety. Oh yes, I've done my research. I just haven't been able to find all the parts. So far, I have a fanny pack. (It's not mine, don't worry. I'm borrowing it from a German. They love that shit).

So, instead, I think I will end up throwing on a vintage late 70's dress (hopefully polyester, sequined, form-fitting and sparkly), buy a cheap plastic crown with rhinestones or fake diamonds, put that on top of my teased-up, messy, post-prom night hair, and of course I won't forget to add the fake blood dripping from one nostril and a bit of mysterious white powder on the other.

Getting back to the one year in Europe, which is probably more important (but less fun) than Halloween. I did buy a plane ticket home - something I've neglected to blog about. Most of my friends know I am leaving Berlin and going back to California, and now, anyone who reads this blog (is there anyone who reads this blog?) knows too. I leave Berlin on the 17th for Dublin, and then leave for SFO the next day. I would love to say I have mixed emotions about leaving, and I do, to a point, but as the days are getting colder and the skies grayer and the rain - wetter? - I am very happy to go back to Sacramento, even if the weather may be similar there. It's not about the weather, anyway. I will see my family again, my friends, be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, experience my (gulp!) 10 year high school reunion - I even have a job waiting for me. I will work for my father in a business he started this year (therefore helping out my family). All good things. Plus, I have a return ticket to Berlin for April 15th of next year. And so I am happy.

She can do it, I can do it too!

2008-10-25T01:25:00.001-07:00

I was jolted awake this morning, at the ungoldly hour of 9:45am, sadly during a really juicy part of an x-rated dream I was having. All of a sudden, I wasn't about to make it with some random hot guy in my dream, I was in my bed. Alone. And awake, on a Saturday morning, too early. Probably earlier than any other resident in this "party all night long" building. But, really awake. It's weird how our bodies and minds work, some days I feel like I never wake up, others, the instant I am coherent, I'm ready to jump up and take over the world.

But as coffee is more of a ritual than a necessity in the morning (although don't get me wrong, some mornings it's a fucking life-saver), I brewed a cup and retreated back into my small (think cozy), warm little nest of a room, to mull over my plans for the day.

It's really gray out. Gray and dreary and cold. So I think I will enjoy this warm delicious goodness inside while I look out onto the backhouse that is my world for now and think about the day. Plans. For the day. Yeah, don't really have any. Buy some new contact lenses, order a new pair of glasses... there was something else. Fun, I know! Oh yes, laundry.

My dream must have been brought on by the book I started reading last night. My friend Shanna gave it me, and I'm supposed to pass it on when I am done - which is totally appropriate, 'cause I don't want it to be one of those books that sits on my shelves that people look at and judge me by when they come over. I don't think I'll read it twice, either. It's called Breaking the Rules, and it's about this late-twenties journalist from the Georgia who goes sluttin' around Europe, and lives to tell about it. The book is totally readable (it's no Hemingway) but it's easy and quick and entertaining. It's actually the first of any sort of trashy autobiography that I've ever read more than 3 pages of. So, she gets married for a visa to stay in London as a writer, but hasn't told her boyfriend yet. He ends up dumping her after he finds out, but that doesn't stop her from having crazy sex with lots of folks, and sometimes crazy sex with lots of folks at one time.

Her story isn't important. It's the fact that she told it, and got published. And it's the fact that she's a good writer (but no Hemingway), and her tales, although risque, aren't jaw-dropping or life changing. They are funny and real and well-written, and I am enjoying reading them. So, what's my point? My point is that if she can do it, I can do it too. I think I'm going to write a fuckin' book. Between couchsurfing, traveling in Europe, and living in Berlin, I'm pretty certain I have enough amusing anecdotes that I can tell the world. Some are even laugh out loud funny. The only thing is - I need some sort of running theme to tie it all together. This girl used sex. What could I use?

I don't like cricket...

2008-10-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

I love it!

Bad Blog of the Day V 1.2

2008-09-25T15:34:00.000-07:00

Let's see... she's not just a mom, she's a "mom of twelve." She lives in Utah. Her spelling is atrocious. She writes of "missonarys," "happy feelings," and "re" -baptisms. Scared yet? She even adopted a couple of black kids, for good measure. Does your waiting time at the Pearly Gates decrease by ten minutes for every poor, non-anglo orphan you can convert?

Hey mom - are you sure your kids aren't old enough to vote? 'Cause they may have been the reason Bush landed his second term. Hope the black ones vote Obama.

Without further ado, straight outta the armpit of America:

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Here we are as a group in front on the MTC in Provo Utah. COrbin entered the MTC on July 23rd 2008. He will be their about 8 weeks then on to Panama City Panama. Spanish Speaking. We got our first letter from him on Friday. He mentions meeting a missionary going to Panama with Corbin. He talkes of being busy and liking it. He also speaks of meeting lots of spanish speaking missionarys.

He talks of being happy and the happy feelings from all missionarys there. we wish him well and pray for him always.

It was pretty tough sending him. The toughest part is being in the MTC with him and having almost everyone there sending the missionarys off crying. So we all had a great crying session. Shad got his BIG challenge from Corbin. Being rebaptized in two years. We are all cheering him on. GO Shad!!!!!!!!

it is going to be great.

Posted by xxxxxxxx

Big decisons are hard to make

2008-09-18T06:08:00.000-07:00

The seasons are changing, days are dramatically shorter, clouds cover the sky hiding the sun, and people on the streets are bundled up like eskimos in jackets, scarves and gloves - but it's only mid September. What the heck is going on?

My mom told me the other day, "it looks like we're finally going to be cooling off soon. The weather man says temperatures should be dipping down into the 70s!" Keep in mind, "the 70s" range from 21 to 26 degrees Celsius. Meanwhile, I'm freezing my little butt off in Berlin. It was 10 degrees yesterday. That worried me. I don't do cold well, never have. Being born and raised in California, I didn't even understand the meaning of cold until I arrived in Europe last November.

This is one of the reasons why I am homesick.

On October 31st, it'll be one year since I left home on my little "four month vacation." I can deal with the cold. But the homesickness? I think that's a little tougher. And although I made the decision to stay in Berlin until next summer (when my visa runs out), I am now beginning to wonder if I can make it that much longer. I honestly don't know if I can. I mean, of course I can, but do I want to?

My new friend and coworker, Lucia from Spain, is planning on driving to South America in January and then puttering around the continent for a year or two. Don't ask me how. Something involving Morroco, Africa, land bridges, underwater tunnels, ufos, blah blah. But she has 3 places in her van. Timmy wants one of them. I'm thinking about vying for the second - and that would mean being back in California in December or January, ready to meet up with Timmy mid February for the journey south. Which really wouldn't be so bad.

I could have a solid month or two to spend in California, hangin' with the fam, enjoying my mother's cooking, accompanying the 'rents on their weekend garage sales adventures, lazy Sunday brunches at yummy yummy Sacramento restaurants, road trips to Santa Cruz, Portland, and probably Arizona to visit old friends, and tearing up the dance floors at some of my favorite nighttime venues. And then taking off for warmer climates and new adventures.

Once you start going, it seems so much easier to keep going, and all the harder to stop. Say you've been away for a year. At that point, would another year really make much of a difference? I know it's crazy, ironic, perhaps hypocritical, but I'm thinking about doing it. I have this opportunity - an awesome opportunity - and South America is so inviting.

I just don't know if I'm ready to stop yet. And what would I be stopping for, anyway? Back to work at Starbucks? A food co-op in Santa Cruz, perhaps? Pushing papers around at some desk job? I still don't know what the hell I want to do with this life of mine. I don't want kids (please see "family ties" blog), not interested in a career, and don't even want to talk about settling down. So maybe I'll keep going. At least until a better idea pops into my head.

family ties

2008-09-16T04:48:00.000-07:00

It seems like all of my cousins are having babies. Here's the newest addition now, Rowan, with my Aunt and Uncle.

What a little cutie pie.

My extended family isn't good at keeping in touch with the Tuckers, or at least with this Tucker. But this Tucker isn't good at keeping in touch with them either, and for that, I am sad and regretful. I also know I could change it, if I wanted to. It's not too late to start up a relationship with family. Not yet, anyway.

I wonder what my parents think about my decisions. I wonder what they think or feel when they look at this photo. Do they see themselves? Do they want to? I don't know if I want kids. In fact, at this point, at age 28, I'm leaning toward checking the no box on that one.

I remember when I told my parents that I didn't think I wanted children. My father, as usual, strongly assured me that he supports me, no matter what. My mother, on the other hand, seemed to falter a bit when she answered that she, too, was proud of me despite my lack of baby desire. But I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

I miss them terribly. And right now, sitting here in a cold, empty Berlin flat, staring out the window onto a gray September day, far, far away from California, I feel it even more. And I wonder how on earth I'll make it through the quickly approaching German winter.

Timmy's last dance

2008-09-15T15:21:00.000-07:00

Friends and enemies...

As some of you may already know, an average workday for me is nothing but average. The following images may be somewhat disturbing - some of them may even involve nudity. They will certainly contain drunk people, because - that's right, folks - I am a Pub Crawl guide in Berlin.

So, I invite you all to take a gander at an night in the life. More specifically, Saturday, September 13, 2008. One night. My life. Strange, yes. But never boring.

(Disclaimer - the following tourists may or may not have known that photos were being taken of them throughout the night. And if they knew, perhaps they didn't fully understand the implications of these images because of their non-sober states. But what they never could have expected was for said images to end up on my blog. Too bad, suckers!!!)

Exhibit A - the night's thorn in my side. Every night has one. Usually they are from England, but they could be from Australia or Ireland. (Very sorry, England, Australia and Ireland). His name I have forgotten, or perhaps I never knew, but he and his strangely attractive yet quasi-disabled friend (the guy fell through a shop window in England while drunk and and badly messed up his arm) came out on the Crawl three nights in a row.

Guys - come on - you're in Berlin. Certainly you can find something better to do?!? Yeah, apparently not.

The first night they were obnoxious but slightly hilarious. The second night they were still obnoxious but actually a little bit charming, and still completely hilarious (both dressed up as women in miniskirts and little tshirts, even donned eyeliner and lipstick), but by the third night, charm quickly ground to a hault and nothing was left but a bad taste in my mouth. Literally.

Exhibit B - This was the moment which first alerted me to some sort of problem with these young men. It seemed to me that something was just not quite right with the two fellows from England. I couldn't exactly put my finger on it - not that I wanted to put my finger on it. (Will the day ever come when these two will ask themselves, "What the fuck were we thinking?" Something tells me no.)

Yeah, I apologize for that one.

Remember - I get to do this 3 or 4 times a week.
It will be over soon, I promise.

Exhibit C - Even MTV showed up! Of course, not for the pub crawl. We pretty much ran smack dab into them. And the douchebag VJ got to interview one of the Pub Crawlers! Wonderful! And of course the guy just had to take his shirt off! Look ma, I'm drunk! And shirtless!

Finally, the team. Timmy and me in RuderClub

And the rest of the team who worked that night.

Timmy is leaving Berlin and the company in two days. That night was a bit like his fairwell. Except while working. Surrounded by almost 200 drunk tourists. Goodbye Timmy, we'll miss you.

photo opp

2008-09-13T05:38:00.001-07:00

Money money money money MONEY

2008-09-12T18:56:00.000-07:00

I don't have enough of it. I am in debt. Bad. Big time bad. Big, bad, big bad time. Debt.

I am also in a foul mood. Foul, foul, foul foul foul. I just got home from working tonight, and although it was quite an entertaining evening (for one I got to see my favorite co-worker and soon-to-be ex-Berliner Timmy making out with a girl who works at Matrix on the dance floor of RuderClub, two I ate a scrumpious bacon cheese burger after work at BurgerMeister, three I ran into some of my favorite Aussies, Amy and Jimmy, at aforementioned BurgerMeister and had a quick "what's up, you're drunk" chat with them, four I went out after work and after burger with two very nice co-workers, Alon from Israel and Lu from Spain, and most importantly, five I lost and then found my 50 euro bill that I earned from babysitting today).

Which brings me back to money.

The reason why I couldn't fall asleep on Wednesday, other than the fact that I had to wake up "early" (ok, early for someone who works in the bar industry), at 9am for a 10am babysitting session, was because I was worrying about my debt. I guess that's what people do, right? At least, that's what us somewhat normal 28 year old Americans do. Worry. About debt. Beacause most of us are in it.

So how can I make money quickly? And in heaps? I am not willing to self myself, but I'll certainly sell part of it. Big secret revealed: a couple of years ago, I sold my eggs. More specifically, I sold perhaps 12 eggs for 5,000 U.S. dollars. And look where it got me - other than leading to the collapse of what might have been the best relationship I'll ever have, it probably bought a bit of this trip to Europe. In a way. Somehow.

But still, I am in debt, and it's bigger and badder than ever before. And I feel like I am drowning. And that's how I feel right now.

Here are some photos of my neighborhood, and other random Kreuzberg-y things. Enjoy!

2008-09-01T05:19:00.001-07:00

Chico the dog. In my room. Getting white doggy hairs all over everything. He came with the flat. He's sweet.

Both the photo above and the one below are views from my window (my room faces the back house)

Above: A door in the neighborhood - Graffiti-free walls don't exist here.

Above: A church around the corner from my flat

Above: One of the coolest art pieces in the city, in my opinion. No idea as to who did it or when it was done. Yet another cool thing in my neighborhood. Kreuzberg!

don't go to bed mad - just go to bed!

2008-09-01T04:49:00.000-07:00

Last night I returned home to my apartment building at 4am after having some beers at a friends place in Friedrichshain. Thinking I would find rows and columns of darkened windows, I was surprised to find many of them lit up - strange for a Sunday late night/Monday early morning. Then again, this is Berlin, and I do live in Kreuzberg. So I shouldn't have been surprised.

But one thing that did surprise me were the voices I heard coming from one of the bottom floor windows - it sounded like two old crotchety geezers yelling at each other. Peering into the lit window, I discovered that's exactly what it was. I didn't want to spy on the old dudes for too long (not a privacy issue, I just didn't want them to see me - god I'm nosy) but while I was straining to peer inside the window I saw two bodies wobbling back and forth, hands clasped together, arms raised to heart level - they were having an old dude brawl! Should I call the polizei? Or just blame it on the Sternberg and let it go?

In my tired and semi-drunken state, I decided not to call the police, but just stick around and listen for a few more moments. As long as they were using pure physical force (and not any sort of sharpened weapon or firearm), I doubted they could do real harm to one another with (old) fists alone. So I listened. One voice definitely more crotchety than the other, Opa #1 was doing the majority of the yelling, although Opa #2 did chime in occasionally, in defense or annoyance. The only thing I could pick up (as Opa #1 not only sounded like he had one foot in the grave, but also had just finished smoking his 10th pack of Marlboros, downing a fifth of whiskey in between each pack) was "meine geld!" and "fünfzig euros!"

The rest sounded like, "grumbly grumbly!! raaahhh rahhh rahhh!! hack! cough! rahh grumbly!"

They stayed up, going on like this for while. Last night, like most nights in my new building, was an ear-plug night. And now, at 2'o'clock, Monday afternoon, they are still going at it. I'm sure they slept a bit in between, and it's not a constant argument, but I hear them pick it back up about every 5 minutes. Maybe they fight for a bit, then drink and pass out. Repeat. And in between, I get to hear Turkish people yelling at each other as well! Ahh, Kreuzberg. I think I'm going to go crazy.

Travel advice, IM style

2008-08-25T04:56:00.000-07:00

The following excerpt was painstakingly cut and pasted out of a short chat session I had with a friend of mine in Berlin. It's smart travel advice for the ladies, so all you ladies out there - pay attention!

me: yup, spain, france, hungary, prague a few times, going to milan and barcelona beg. of october and then hopefully morroco soon and turkey

viet: well, maybe you will like Milan. I liked Rome. But Italy on the whole I am not so crazy about.

After visiting the other countries I appreciate the modernity of Germany and Austria much more now.

Have fun and stay safe. and remember....NOBODY has muscles in front of their eyes or throat. So just poke them there and you can run if you need to.

later.

me: thanks for the tip

Things come, things go, things come back

2008-08-24T10:27:00.000-07:00

It's been a good while since I've last written, and even though I am not totally sure what this post will be about, I feel like I need to write. Maybe it will just be a recap of the last month and a half, because that's just about how long it's been since I last checked in.

Let's see, what's happened since we last met? Well, for one, my car was stolen in California. It was sitting right outside of my parents house, and when they woke up one morning, my father told me on the phone, it was gone. This happened about a month ago, just a few days after Obama made his appearance in Berlin, in front of a 200,000 person audience.

It was a Friday early evening and I was just leaving the flat to meet a friend for a drink when my he called (my father, not Obama). Some of the first words out of his mouth were those most dreaded, "I have some bad news," which made me think, "oh shit, did the cat die? Is my mother ok? Is he just fucking with me?" And then he went on to tell me that my car had been stolen.

It was a shock- a big one. I riding my bike when he called. I had to stop and get off the bike and stand there. I even felt a little sick. And then I had to get off the phone. But not before he told me that although he had filed a police report, there was little to no chance of recovering the thing, and on top of that, no theft insurance. Wonderful.

And, running through my mind is this: My freedom and independence disappeared with the car. Pictures of Northen California suburban life started popping up. Like it or not, people need cars. Everyone has a car. Downtown Sacramento is a good 20 minutes away by speeding car. Downtown is where my friends were, where the action is, the nightlife, the restaurants, the jobs. Drive-through Starbucks and late-night semi-drunken bean burrito runs to Taco bell: cancelled. Road trips to Santa Cruz to visit Jonathan, Michelle and the ocean: never again. Like I said, freedom and independence.

Maybe I am over-exaggerating. Ok, yeah, I am. But seriously, think about it - that car was the one big material thing that I have. And it did mean being able to try to get back into my old American ways when I came back home. And I mean that in the most sarcastic, best possible way.

Fastforward one and a half weeks. I am now in Budapest, trying to deal with my vacation from hell (more on this in another blog later), when my dad calls again to tell me they found it. At some larger-than-life Indian Casino in the foothills. Sans stereo, but otherwise, complete and in perfect (as perfect as a dark green banged up 175,000 mile '98 Honda Civic can be) working order.

:)

Accountability

2008-06-16T14:05:00.000-07:00

You either have it or you don't. Some people make all kinds of excuses about why things have happened to them. No, not winning the lottery or banging a pretty broad; bad things, negative things, like a failed relationship, a lost job, running out of money. It's much easier to displace the blame than to hold up a mirror in front of yourself and pose the question, "what did I do wrong?" This failure to self-reflect only perpetuates the cycle, and so the spiral keeps spinning and usually spins downward. If we were able to evaluate ourselves and our actions more often, ask ourselves why, perhaps we wouldn't be making the same kind of mistakes over and over.

People who lack accountibilty make me mad. No, the make me really mad. And somehow, in my sordid past, I've entered into "relationships" with some of these people. I see it, but often times it's too late. I have admittedly ended relationships over this accountabilty issue. One guy had a reason for everything - why he couldn't go back to school, why he couldn't travel, why he had anxiety issues. The problem - and the solution - was right in front of his face, but he was too blind to see it.

So what can I do? I suppose I could point a finger and wag it back and forth and say,"it's your fault and your fault alone! Can't you see? Why don't you stop blaming others for your own actions? If you don't like your life, change it!" But I don't. It's not my job. If you can't realize it, I'm not going to help you. I might leave you, but I won't help you. Ok, maybe I will try to suggest in an ever-so-sensitive way that if your dream is to travel but you never have any money, then perhaps you should stop spending your paychecks on non-travel related crap.

Did I mention these people make me mad?

Hindsight is 20/20. 20 fucking 20. And then I read a blog tonight, written by an ex. A little blip on the radar screen of the ex-boyfriends that Jessica has had. Time wise, we spent little together, in comparison with my other relationships. But the effect... will be long lasting.

And I quote, "I still think of a certain someone who has slipped away but I put that on god..I'm sick of dealing with the pain..."

If it makes you feel better... Sigh.

And they weren't even tigers...

2008-06-02T15:10:00.000-07:00

they were wolves.

thank you

2008-06-02T15:03:00.000-07:00

My dad just sent me an email that had two tigers in it, cuddling with eachother. I read the title of the email, even recognized in my semi-drunken state, that it was a forward. No, not a forward, a fwd. This is much worse. And from my father, they're pretty bad. Yet, I opened it and inside, the tigers. Lovin' on themselves. Thanks dad.

Yesterday, I talked to my parents on the phone, and my dad told me, "you know, today I said to your mom in the car, 'I really love her.' " Thanks dad.

I've realized, and not so recently, that if my parents weren't the way they are- with their backgrounds, their ages, their baggage and habits (good and bad), I wouldn't be the way I am. I wouldn't even be here.

So thank you.

The day the dog peed on me - OR - A great way to kill a buzz

2008-05-02T03:17:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I was hanging out with some folks at Boxhagener Platz, chillaxing, smoking a joint, drinking some beer, minding my own motherfucking business, when low and behold, a big black hairy dog came up from behind me to the right and lifted its leg. Not on a tree or a firehydrant - not even on a sign post or a garden gnome. No. On my dress. And on the jacket I was sitting on, which wasn't even mine. Which reminds me... I still need to wash that dress.

Good times.

The best part about it was that we were out in the middle of the park, surrounded by people, in the sunlight (more like a spotlight, or so it felt) and even though I'm fairly certain (with the exception of my friends) that only one or two other people even saw what happened, I was fucking mortified. Have you ever had a dog pee on you? When does something like that ever happen? I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, I was in such utter shock, really. I told my friend later that day about it and his response was "one time I had a bird shit on me twice in a day" and my counter was "yeah but I just had a dog pee on me." Bam!

Afterward (perhaps because he heard me screaming??) the owner came over to us and asked what happened in German. My German friend tried to explain to him (in German) but I think I was laking patience at that moment and told him, "your dog just peed on me!" He didn't believe me. We had to tell him a couple of times, "no, your dog just peed on her" and I got the feeling he was very embarrassed. He apologized profusely (but not profusely enough) but came over soon after with a beer. Let me rephrase that. He came over later with a Sterni. Um, excuse me?!? Your dog gets to piss on me and I get a bathwater warm Sterni??? In exchange for me acting as your dog's toilet, it should have at least been a fucking top shelf Margarita on the rocks with some salt on the rim.

To recap, if some higher power had said to me, "Jessica, today you will have the option of a) having a dog pee on you or b) having the dog do it's business elsewhere," I would maybe actually pick option a. Maybe. Just to have a story to tell.

California smells like this in dreams...

2008-04-30T03:45:00.000-07:00

I could easily write all about my life right now; the interesting things that have happened to me lately. Days go by, and I don't write, but yet I am constantly thinking, "this one's going in the blog." And yet the days pass and no writing gets done. This place sucks you in. It's a chill trap for sure, my flat. Even beyond that, beyond the comfy couch in the living room and the music playing on the stereo and the people who are floating in and out, the chill deepens. There are certain specific rooms in this flat and certain people especially who are really good in the game of trapping. But I don't mind. Sometimes it's nice to get trapped, especially if you really like the person doing the trapping.

But stories still emerge. Like the time I almost broke my thumb killing a mosquito. I don't think my thumb will ever be the same. Or, less recently, the time when I hitchhiked to Prague from Berlin as a part of a race to see who could get there the fastest, and won. Less interesting but interesting all the same was impromptu photoshoot that happened the other day, when I threw on a dress and heels and pretended to be a model for a couple of hours.

I could also tell you about one of the most amazing things I've experienced in a while, and this took place a little outside of Berlin, in the southeast. Last week, some of the folks here (at Turmstrasse 11) grabbed the essentials (a shit ton of food and a lot of weed) and headed out into the "countryside" to the parents' house of one of the flatmates here. The day was chilly after the sun dropped out of the sky, but it was a beautiful day nonetheless. It culminated in the end, after most others had left, with only three of us (and the instruments) remaining. From my perspective on the couch, I had basically a front row seat for the show. Turst was on Piano, and Dirk was playing electric guitar - and, oh man, was I glad I stayed. Words can't do the moment justice, so I won't really attempt to describe it. But it was one of the coolest things I've experienced in a long, long time. Who would think such beautiful music could be made from such unusual combinations?

Just yesterday I met up with one of my closest friends in this city to do a little exploring. We met at the Sbahn station Jannowitzbruke and headed south from there, riding like the fucking hard core girls we are on our bikes through the streets of Kreuzberg. If there is a prettier area of Berlin than Kreuzberg, I don't know what it is. She had a work meeting that was supposed to last 1/2 hour (which ended up lasting 2 hours) so I got an iced coffee with ice cream and explored.

And the day before that, I ended up sunbathing in a new bikini up on the roof for 2 hours with a flatmate, my hair tangling in the wind that assulted our bodies up there, cooling us off from the sun's harsh rays. That was an amazing day as well.

More stories will come, and come quickly I'm sure. Every day brings a new, fabulous experience, and with it I am changed ever so slightly. I sometimes wonder when it will all end... my time here in Berlin, these awesome days filled with extraordinary adventures. I honestly don't know. It's scary to think and even scarier to write, but I think I may be missing California less and less.

Hey, all I know is that the plan was to have no plan... and I must say that I am really enjoying how the plan is working out. :)

A letter home

2008-04-21T13:20:00.001-07:00

Can I just start off by saying that your email almost brought tears to my eyes...wow. Shit man I miss that place, I am going to miss that place. My parents told me recently that it sold. I guess another period of time comes to a close and with it, change comes. We all must move on. So I dont even know what to say, other than I really miss you and I miss Sacramento. Berlin is still great, the weather is changing finally, rapidly, as the days grow longer, slowly. There is sun now until around 9pm or so, which is really wonderful. Soon it will probably be out until around 10pm, and apparently, Berlin is the only place to be in the summer. Well, no, there are other places that are probably great, but it is my place for the summer. And so another season will pass... In 10 days, I will have have been gone for 6 months.

So, what has happened in your life in 6 months? What has happened in mine? There is so much. I just heard from a friend today that he is moving back to the states. He is, for a lack of a better term, giving up. He is the first to leave this place, my home for now, and he won't be the last. That is one of the problems about living in a city like this and knowing the people that I do. Everyone, it seems, or many, are just passing through. I see this almost on a daily basis when I work. At least, every time I work,, I meet people who are passing through. And I don't invest any time or effort into them, with the exception of the small 4 or 5 hour period that I spend leading them on their path to a(nother) drunken night in Berlin. So it goes.

There are so many thoughts in my head right now and all I want to do is call you up on the phone, or better yet, meet you in the kitchen for a chat... But instead, my environment, my choices, leave me no other option than lie here (or slouch - I am on a bed for the time being) and type.

So I bet the pumpkins are long gone, eh? And what about the skaters? Do they still pay you weekly visits? I remember back in the fall, going outside to the pool, usually with Grayson, to sit on the edge and smoke a joint or stand in the middle and look up at the moon through the trees. Or the midnight walks to steal pumpkins with you and Rodney and Gray. And the room upstairs... the stories it tells. That room reminds me of Derek. But the house and the property... well that reminds me of a lot of good times. And so many include you. Yes I am being quite sentimental here but I guess that is the mood that I am in. I think overall, it was a really great time.

I would love to catch up on the phone soon. I keep thinking I need to call you and even go as far as to call sometimes but it seems that it always goes to voice mail. Oh, by the way! The other day I saw a street sign with your name in it! I would have taken a photo but I had no camera. It was spelled Rahel, but still.

Well I guess I will let you go, your email just provoked some thoughts and I wanted to share them. And thanks again for the email, it was quite good to read. By the way, the guy that I'm "seeing" (otherwise known as my new flatmate - yikes!!!) is studying, of all fucking things, astrophysics next to me on the bed. And of course, as I typed "astrophysics", I misspelled it. Shows how much I know. :)

Miss you!!

Jess

this is my life...

2008-04-17T15:52:00.000-07:00

...and I am losing my mind. Ok, maybe it's more like temporarily misplacing it. Because, when the music's turned up loud, the light is soft on my fingers, the tree on the desk to my left making a shadow over the keyboard, and my flatmates gathered haphazardly around me, my mind has a tendancy to slip away. For short breaks only. Mere minutes at a time, but of course it flies away like a bumblebee seeking flowers to pollinate.

And meanwhile, on google chat....

I kindly tell the boy who was a friend of mine until very recently (very recently we crossed that damn friend/more-than-friend line. And I immediately regretted it. Immediately. Except not before the next morning... ) that I missed our friendship. I told him --

In fact, just read the god damn thing:

me: hey David*, i was hoping you were on.... sorry about the conversation earlier and sorry i've been MIA

Sent at 12:42 AM on Friday

David: it's all good

figured I should probably say the same

eternal crazy state of affairs

me: I think to be honest (and i am a little high so that's helping) that I kinda couldn't handle the more than friends thing and instead of talking to you like a mature person would do i just disappeared

Sent at 12:44 AM on Friday

me: so i wanted to apologize....

Sent at 12:46 AM on Friday

David: don't sweat it...I've been trying to pinpoint how I feel about it, and I think that may have been easier a week or two ago...but latley, in the past week since I started working, everything has been rolling around in a crazy whirlwind and I have lost track of it

not to mention that sometimes it's a little easier to not talk about it right away, and let it slip momentarily to the side until the time's right

me: right, yeah but its been bothering me a little bit, because i fell i lost a friend and i didnt want that

I feel, i mean, obviously

and so tonight right now it all accumulated or whatever and it needed to come out and i just wanted to say that i think i just need friends now

David: lol, that's fine

me: and you need to check this song out. http://www.gigacrate.com/Music/MusicDetails.php?id=9979

but seriously, alles klaar?

Sent at 12:51 AM on Friday

David: yah, and I'd like to say let's get together, but I don't feel like I have any time!

Sent at 12:53 AM on Friday

me: well i mean yeah i am trying to say that maybe its not a time issue for me but i might be saying i miss our friendship, you know?

(although i am always fucking busy too)

Sent at 12:56 AM on Friday

David: yah, I miss having you to walk around town with

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent

SOoooooooooo.....

What am I supposed to do with THAT? "yah, I miss having you to walk around with"?!?!? WTF?!?! Seriously. Hmmm.... Ok maybe I didn't make it that clear. I'm regretting crossing the line with you because we were good friends and afterward I freaked out and couldn't handle actually telling you (why on earth would I actually want to communicate my feelings to you??) and so I ran. Or, rather, disappeared into this city, or (more precisely), disappeared into my new roomie-slash-crush-slash-cuddlebuddy-that-turned-into-something-more. To be more precise.

And then - more Google Chat:

David: how's work going?

Sent at 1:01 AM on Friday

me: yeah, work is going really well. i realy love my job... and my co-workers too. been sorta really getting into the whole party scene, i mean shit i work as a pub crawl guide right?

I think that, and living with my flatmates who are CONSTANTLY smoking pot... it might not be the best place for me but I'm sure as hell having fun!

And of course, what sparked this whole apology sorta thing.... shit one sec Sma has to turn off this computer to help fix it....

And that was the end of that.

root canals are not fun

2008-04-03T11:34:00.000-07:00

Yeah, so I got to experience a root canal today, German style. My tooth had been hurting for the last 2 days or so, and I usually *think* I have a high pain tolerance. But this pain... my god, it was kicking my ass! It would come in waves, sorta like a pain rollercoaster. Or high tide/low tide pain. Well, my friend, when the pain was at high tide, I could barely stand it. I was doing a bit of grocery shopping in Plus (a neighborhood Berlin market) when it hit me the other night - I just about passed the fuck out. But it looks like things are improving, after my short visit to the dentist.

A bit of drilling and poking and prodding and I feel - better. But I'm a couple of beers deep now and I've just eaten a fabulous meat 'n' potatoes dinner, cooked by a friend of Turm. 11 (my flat) and so now I think I'll take a little nap andthen see what the night has in store for me.

Different is GOOD

2008-04-02T04:31:00.001-07:00

I woke up this morning to a figure standing outside of my door, looming. As my bedroom door latched snapped shut, I was slapped out of dreamland and immediately looked in the direction of the noise; my sleep-stained eyes, sans eye glasses, squinting to try to make out any discerning characteristics. At that hour, I only saw a dark, muddy blob-shape.

Funny. I write "that hour" as if I was rudely awakened at some ungodly time even before the birds are up. Turns out, if you were any normal person leading a normal ordinary life, my day would be starting during your lunch break.

But I am not one of those people. I am waking up at noon and falling asleep at 4am. I am eating dinner at midnight and having breakfast at 2pm. I am living with 5 German physics majors (all complete stoners - go figure) in a flat high about the trees, where the newest addition to our humble abode has already busted out Poi with glow sticks on the rooftops for a private little midnight performance.

Following along these same "my life is so effing strange" lines, I somehow found one of the weirdest jobs I've ever had. My day starts well after the "normal" work day is over for the latte-drinking, high-heels-that-kill-your-feet-wearing, stressed-out-to-the-max business crowd. I leave my house and jump on my piece of shit cruiser bicycle (the gears are broken and the brakes barely work - but it was given to me so I'm very thankful) and ride the short distance to my neighborhood Sbahn station, where I proudly ride "black" (without a ticket... shhhh) to the heart of this beautiful, decrepit, war-torn city called Berlin. That's when the fun starts. There, in Mitte, I get the pleasure of meeting up with groups of English speaking tourists from all over the world, guiding them from one bad mainstream bar to the next. Although these groups (sometimes consisting of over 150 people) have little in common, they do share one very important goal - getting pissed beyond belief. Bonus points if they find someone to go home with, although by the end of the night I'm surprised if any of them are even coherent enough to take their pants off. That's right, folks - I am a pub crawl guide in Berlin. This is my strange life, and as the German Ronald McDonald might say, "Ich liebe es!"

I am currently sitting in the living room on the computer that my flatmates set up for me, watching 3 of them arching their backs, craning their necks, raising their heads, slowly, up and down in smooth fluid motions, whilst propping themselves up off of the floor on all fours. Yoga classes taught in my living room? Never before, but here, somehow, it just fits. Thievery Corporation accompanies their Chakra ebb and flow, but I need something a bit more electro, so I don my headphones and escape into my writing. And all the while I think of how happy I am here, how this place feels like home.

Two days ago marked the 5 month anniversary of my leaving California. 5 months and two days ago, I was in a car with my parents and then-boyfriend (a 21 year old guy from Pennsylvania who came out to Northern California to escape his shit-hole life and armpit-of-America town, only to transplant himself into one of the most beautiful areas in this world and fall in love with a girl who was 7 years his senior, and watch her leave for Europe 3 months later. Life's just a real bitch sometimes, ain't it?), driving west on Interstate 80 from Sacramento to San Francisco, or more specifically, to San Francisco International Airport (SFO).

To be honest, I was scared shitless. And it wasn't until I got on that plane that I knew I was really getting on the plane. In those very last moments, Europe wasn't that tantalizing for me. Staying in California, surrounded by friends and family and the comforts of all things familiar, was almost tempting enough to prevent me from leaving. Plus, I had found someone who loved me with such an intensity - someone who I thought I loved back in the same way (turns out it may have just been the great sex).

But I said my teary goodbyes, and along with my very best friend in the world who met me at the airport, I got on that god dammed plane. Together, we watched Northern Cali grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely and clouds became the landscape. 5 months and 2 days later, I'm still here, even though my friend is long gone and my original flight "home" left out of London a month ago. I'm still here, and although there isn't a day that goes by where I wonder what the hell I'm doing, I'm doing it, all the same.

Christ, look at this mess

2008-03-06T08:30:00.000-08:00

I'm reading a poem written by an ex-boyfriend (possibly about me) that's posted on his myspace page. As I get to the bottom of the poem, actually contemplating that for once, the guy is looking at our past in a positive light, I see a banner at the end of the page. It says: "Christ, Look at this Mess" in big bold blue letters, underlined to signify that you can click on it. Underneath, more writing: "Imagine my disappointment if I were here to make you happy" and then, under that, in small green letters: www.Christreturns.net

The budding atheist in me wants to laugh and then scowl and immediately navigate far, far away from this page, but my inquisitive inner self is tempted to click.

Unfortunately, I have to take a shower now because I need to be so fresh and so clean for work in less than 2 hours, and with the bvg (Berlin public transportation w/the exception of the S Bahn) striking, I'll need all the time I can get to get there on time.

Maybe I'll bookmark it for later. I suppose it would be good to know when Christ is returning, anyway.

Fate is a good friend of mine

2008-02-28T03:05:00.000-08:00

Why is it really difficult for me lately, to get motivated? Little things like leaving the house, getting a shower, getting OUT. I think partially it's this damn computer, sucking me in. As I have a bunch of friends that I chat with online, it seems a partial substitute for the "real" world, or the world outside of my doorstep, which I love so much. I just keep finding things to do... on this white boxy machine. Things to click on, things to type, images to upload, people to spy on. :)

It looks like a nice day outside, and I do have some things to do.

Ahh... looks like fate has just intervened. I just received a call that I'd been waiting for (but wasn't positive would come) from a British woman who needs someone to look after her child, in the mornings, on a somewhat permanent basis. We are meeting today at 2:15 to chat. I'm not sure how many Euros a babysitter can make in Berlin, but it's better than nothing.

Also, I was at a volkskuche last night (people's kitchen - volunteers cook vegetarian food on the cheap - think communist dinner) and I ran into Nick, this guy who I had previously interviewed with for a position with New Berlin Tours. They had needed tour guides, but now they need pub crawl guides. I would rather lead pub crawls (babysitting drunk tourists, dragging them from bar to bar to bar to bar...) than do city tours anyway. So, my friend Julie and I will go in today and see what we can accomplish.

We'll see what fate has in store for me today... I also am meeting with a couple of Turkish guys from the chicken shop nextdoor at 1am. (yeah, you're thinking, wtf?!?) Don't worry, I am going with my Finnish friend Annika, so I won't be alone. One of them has sort-of offered me a waitress job in his cafe in Wedding. At this point, I have no choice but to explore every single possible avenue that is open to me... including ones that seem to lead into dark alleys with non-English speaking Turkish men.... ;)

And just when you thought things were getting better...

2008-02-27T07:02:00.000-08:00

As I've been spouting off for the last few weeks about this miracle job in Berlin, as I've told everyone "I can't believe that I probably have a job in Berlin because it's so hard to find good work here," and you are all anxiously waiting to hear the verdict from my big day on Monday, I will enlighten you (before I am fully enlightened myself). Be forewarned. I hope you aren't too disappointed.

Ok. So.... (deep breath, count to three...) I don't think I'm getting the job. I just emailed the company to let them know that I wasn't able to enroll in a University (they told me, last minute, like last minute yesterday, that they wanted to see if I could enroll in a Uni and that their decision to hire me would be based on whether or not I could become a student). Basically, bullshit. I researched and found that the deadlines were on Jan. 15th for the summer session, and there's no way I can enroll now. I guess employing a student saves them tax money, but shit, they should have told me this like a month ago so that I would have understood what they wanted... I am pissed. But... it's ok. Keep on keepin' on. (I say with a forced smile on my face!)

No, but really, it'll be ok. Even though the money would have been "sehr gut," the job was, really, in the end, completely uninteresting to me. I don't doubt that I could have done well for them. But to be honest, what good is making a lot of money if you are too tired to enjoy your days? Especially when your days are spent in Berlin, and especially since it takes very little money to enjoy life here.

I fell into that trap once in California, when I was managing (briefly) for Target Corporation (think a higher class WalMart). The money was good, but I hated the work, and the only reason why I took the job was the money. I learned a lesson... and so I should remember that lesson, even now, even here. It's not all about money. I'd rather be happy with little money than unhappy with a lot.

So... I haven't actually heard a "no" back yet from them, but I am basically assuming they will respond today with a no. I actually felt a sense of relief, walking out the exit of Humboldt University in Mitte (located on the stunning Unter den Linden, in the heart of Berlin and next to the river Spree), after learning that I was too late to enroll in University. Too late to enroll in Uni = probably being turned down by this company. My only choice at this point is to move on and consider my other options.

And so, moving on, I will be moving out! I knew that staying in my current flat would depend entirely on getting this job. I admit, I took a big gamble, and it looks like I lost. But, fortunately, I already have another option as far as where to live. This is the part I find hard to believe. But, believe it, sister! My friend Trevor stayed for a few months with some of his friends in Berlin. They were kind enough to let him live in a little tiny room in their penthouse flat in Tiergarten (west Berlin) for free. I believe he was there, in total, about 2 months. I was lucky enough to meet them as well, and one of them, a physics major named Konrad, has been generous enough to offer me this room for as long as I need it. At this point, with these other things falling through, this is my safety net. This is why I am not balled up in the corner crying (ok, I wouldn't ever be doing that anyway) , or actually considering being on my original return flight home, which happens to leave out of London in one week exactly. Strange...

I'm going to stick it out. I told myself I would stay in Berlin for one year. I will do this. If I have to become a 28 year old babysitter, I will do this. It's just a bit of a bump in my plans. Just when I thought I was settled, just as things started leveling out, just as I was already hooked on and in love with this beautiful flat, my beautiful neighborhood, my wonderful flatmate... it looks like I'm in for another hill.

But what is life without hills? As my new Aussie friend Natalie told me in google chat, "welcome to the world of starting with nothing in a foreign city!!" Yeah, ain't that the truth. And so, I will continue to push forward, even if, at times, I am feeling equal resistance from this amazing city. At least I have some wonderful friends to stand behind me and hold me in place while I fight for that level ground I've been hearing so much about.

Kicking ass and taking names (or pigging out and laying low)

2008-02-25T13:44:00.001-08:00

So, can I just say that I am utterly satiated? What is satiated, you may ask? Put down the dictionary, it's cool, I'll explain.

sa·ti·ate ..>play_w("S0097400")..> (ssh-t)

tr.v. sa·ti·at·ed, sa·ti·at·ing, sa·ti·ates

1. To satisfy (an appetite or desire) fully.

2. To satisfy to excess.

adj. (-t)

Filled to satisfaction.

There you go. So, after 3/4 of a frozen pepperoni pizza, 1/3 of a bottle of red wine, an orange, and some chocolate, I am full and happy and tired. I'm sitting here in my room, listening to Steely Dan, and the bottle of wine is not far away. The only thing missing is the reefer. :)

Why am I so happy? Well, today I had my little "trial day" with my prospective employer. It looks pretty good, although the day was, I'll admit, difficult. I didn't really realize how intense this day was going to be. Had to research three companies they are targeting their software at (Garmin - GPS, PayPal, and HP) and figure out who the contact would be at each company, then draft an email that was completely customized to fit each companies' software needs, THEN have a mock cold call with the CEO of the company I'm interviewing with. All this took 8 hours.

So I'm home, and it's 10pm, ok 10:16, and I'm soooo tired but full and happy like I said, and I haven't written for a while so I thought I would. I really hope the job works out. I don't know if I would necessary love selling software (I mean, come on) but it's professional sales (current clients include Adobe and McAfee), a good company to work for, a bomb ass location (Mitte, downtown Berlin), good salary, and a work visa for me. All of it equals = staying in Berlin long term. Which is good. Which is what I want.

When I first got to Berlin, I had Michelle. When she left, I had the Couchsurfing community. You know how it is when you are alone in a new place and you sort of latch on to anyone around? Well, I think I did this a bit, at least I made friends very quickly, but now (almost after 3 months of being in Berlin!) I'm finally sorting out the aquaintences from the friends, learning who the people are that I click the best with and who those people are that are cool, but not great-friend material. I'm very happy to say that I've found a couple of genuine friends.

Other than the job thing, my German is coming along... sort of. "Ich sprechen kine Deutsch" was what I used to say to people, which translates to "I speak no German." Now, I say "Ich sprechen im bissian Deutsch," or, "I speak a little German." Note that the last German sentance I wrote is probably spelled wrong, but that's what you get when you learn a language on the street! :) Ok, not on the street, but through friends taking German courses, and German friends, and the guys at the Turkish chicken sandwhich shop down the street from me who are trying to "help" me with my German. ;) Thanks, guys.

What else... oh, holy shit, or "Heilige Scheiße!" I fucking played ultimate frisbee yesterday in this park called Treptower park! For the past 3 sundays, couchsurfers have been getting together to play, and I finally made it out yesterday. It was AMAZING. I think I'm hooked. If you don't know what ultimate frisbee is, picture american football... with a frisbee instead of a football! Also, when you catch the frisbee, you can't run. You have to throw it to someone, but they can run. I made either 2 or 3 goals, can't remember. Even though I kicked ass, and yes my team won, I was a little out of it... I'll explain....

On Saturday night, I went to a bar with some people for this guy's bday party (he was a couchsurfer of course). The party sucked, so we went to a club that sucked even more. I was soooo disappointed with the night, 'cause it was Saturday and I was ready to effing party. So, I left the club and went back to the bar, where I met up with my friend Hiram and some girl who was peaking on MDMA. We went back to his place (this was around 2am), ate some of his home made bomb ass carrot cake, dropped off his shit (he had a bunch of camera equipment with him because he was filming earlier) and headed out to Kopi. What is Kopi, you may ask? Only the oldest and fucking coolest squat in berlin. What is a squat, you may ask? I'm not going to help you with that one.

But check it: http://www.koepi137.net/

And this oldest and fucking coolest squat in berlin was having their 18th year celebration, from I believe thurs. night until sunday night, or probably Monday mid day, the way Berliners party. We got there around 3am - must have been about 300 or 400 people there - and I left sometime after 6am... got home just in time for the sunrise. Called a friend and talked for a bit, finally got to bed at 7:30am. I haven't had one of those nights for a while. It's weird, because I'm almost surpised I can still party like that. Not like I'm over the hill or anything, but I'm no spring chicken either. Anyhoo, it was one of the best nights I've had yet in Berlin. Picture a 5 story wherehouse type of building, bonfires in the front, bars outside and inside, in the basement you have another bar and two separate dj areas with electro, and about 6 different areas upstairs for dancing to music that ranged from Punk to electro to crazy German music to 60s surf rock. If you could only see what I saw... A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. Wish I brought my camera.

So, after a night of hard core partying, I go to bed at 7:30 and wake up at noon, and then leave to play fucking ultimate frisbee. How awesome is that. I think pretty awesome. :) Oh yeah, and I walked to the park, about a 30 minute beautiful walk.

What else, what else... I'll hear back from the job on Wednesday. If any of you are still reading this long blog, thanks, and I'll keep you updated. Show me some love people, I miss you!!!

Pics of Home

2008-02-16T03:35:00.001-08:00

I thought that I should post some photos of my neighborhood, my flat, my streets, my favorite U-bahn station, for all of you to enjoy and be jealous of. :) So... enjoy! (and be jealous!)

The above photo is looking to the right from my VERY OWN bedroom balcony. The below is the view across the street and a bit to the right.

The above photo as well as the one below are views to the left...

...and finally, another view to the right. I guess I just went a little camera crazy. :)

Last but not least...

2008-01-29T04:42:00.000-08:00

This entry, and the few that follow it, were written almost exactly one year ago, when I found myself back in Sacramento, living there again for the first time in 5 years, after a 4-year long failed relationship and a general question of "what the hell am I going to do now?!?" I had been blogging here, at blogger.com, for a while, but decided (after my father ended up sharing my blog address with an undisclosed amount of friends/collegues) that I wanted some privacy. Electronically, that is. So I decided to start blogging, privately, elsewhere.

However, it appears that the blog site I moved to (zaadz.com), has recently changed names and formats and reinvented itself, emerging with a new identity - jampacked with a bunch of mantra-y, we're all in this together, new-age, metaphysical bullshit.

So, fuck it, I'm back. Read away.

Starting over, electronically.
Posted on Feb 15th, 2007 by InvisibleLife
Alright. So this is what it's all about. Sometimes I just want to write, and I want to write whatever I want, about whomever I want, and I want to keep it all to myself. Yet I want to publish on the internet... go figure.

I abandoned my old blog today, made a conscious decision to do so, after being asked one too many times by my father if he could send the link to this friend or that friend. Apparently he thinks that he can share my personal life with his buddies. I know it's just because he's proud of me, and wants to share his daughter with people... thus, putting my life on display. I don't want my life on display. I guess I never should have given him the address in the first place.

So that's why I'm creating a new blog, here, and for now, it will remain private. However, there is a problem. With the creation of this blog, this profile, I'm investing time in yet another site that I have to maintain. More digital friends that I have to keep in touch with, more photos that I have to upload, more interests fields I have to fill out. I shouldn't complain, because it's a place to put my thoughts. Why am I so hesitant to let people read the things that I think? I don't fear letting people "in" or being completely open and honest with folks in "real life," whether we are best friends or complete strangers. But when it comes to writing... I don't know, I guess I have reservations.

Lately I've been wondering if I should be more reserved about about sharing myself with others. It's like I've tried and failed at sharing myself. Lately, it seems. I put myself out there and, well, for lack of a better term, I get shot down. Hmm...I think people are generally too afraid to show eachother what is inside of themselves.

So how can we ever really know one another if too much information is withheld, edited out? And then, the next question would naturally be, can we ever really know anyone at all? One last thought: To varying extents, we all have secrets or skeletons or even demons inside. We are all a little dysfunctional in some ways and functional in others. We are human. It's the nature of the game. I think it's important to remember these things, before we decide to shut ourselves off from others for fear of being judged, getting hurt, or even worse -- letting someone in.
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Tagged with: relationships, blogging, privacy, family, letting people in

Mardi Gras - archive from Feb 16, 2007

2008-01-29T04:38:00.001-08:00

Mardi Gras
Posted on Feb 16th, 2007 by InvisibleLife

It's finally here, the event I've been waiting for. It's Mardi Gras time and I saw my first big parades last night. They seemed to go on forever, and even though I was completely loaded down with cheap swag at the end, it didn't stop me from wanting more.

The rum and grapefruit we were drinking out of plasic cups helped keep us warm as we stood under the Highway 10 overpass on St. Charles in downtown New Orleans. Accordiing to my new couchsurfing.com friend Melody, the acoustics are better under the bridge. I totally was digging the marching bands, and only 2 dudes on the floats asked us to lift up our shirts. I guess that's pretty good? But, sadly, there was no flashing involved last night.

We had taken bikes to the parade from Melody's work (she works for some awesome non-profit that is literally helping to rebuild New Orleans). She usually cooks there, and when I showed up last night they were just eating some sort of fabulous enchilada dish that she insisted I join them for. It was great. And then, it got even better when one of the women told us about a "free pile" of clothes. So Melody's friend from Portland and I started digging through this heap of stuff; immediately I found a total jem, some startling red 80s number. I think I'll wear it to the next parade I go to.

From her work, we rode to Rite Aid where we stocked up on booz, and then it was off to our destination -- the overpass. After the parades were over, we attempted to ride back to Melody's work. But, since her 19 year old friend from Portland was so incredibly wasted at that point (she took a few tumbles off her bike, one looked like she was literally thrown off into a sommersalt on the pavement - ouch!) we had to walk them back. That obviously slowed us down. And on top of it, instead of going back to her work, we went to Melody's house (an old pantyhose manufacturing wherehouse) to drop off the poor girl.

And it didn't end there. Even though the night was packed full already, I managed to catch a live show at a venue called DBA -- Rotary Downs. Had to say, they were pretty good live but I think I was expecting more. All in all, it was an awesome night. And I'm not even too hungover today. But my question for you is this -- what the hell am I going to to with all of these beads?!?
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Tagged with: mardi gras, parades, DBA, couchsurfing

Plan Your Life - archive from Feb 18, 2007

2008-01-29T04:37:00.000-08:00

Plan your life.
Posted on Feb 18th, 2007 by InvisibleLife
God how bizarre. It hadn't hit me until now, sitting here in Cafe Rose Nicaud on Royal Street on the edge of the French Quarter on Sunday morning, looking around at groups of friends laughing, people studying, couples out for a late breakfast and coffee -- I think I'm a little homesick.

I've had this feeling lately, the kind of thing that just nags at you. It's been sorta pulling at my gut and making me re-evaluate my plans to stay through Fat Tuesday -- I guess I didn't know what it was until this very moment. This is a wonderful place, but it's not my home. I've never been away from everyone, alone, for so long. I guess it's just starting to get to me, just a little. I mean, it's been a great trip, I've had so much fun and done so much, but it's winding down and the little voice inside my head knows. And I guess that explains the nagging.

But I'm torn. When I return to Sacramento, I get to enter into the first "real" job I've had after college. Wecome to the corporate world, where personality doesn't count for much, where they want to churn out people quickly and efficiently and in little cookie cutter molds. Working for the man, dress codes and no piercings and strictly enforced breaks and.... management.

Sometimes I don't know what I'm doing. More and more, this has been my theme lately. It scares me that I don't know what I want to do with my life, that I feel like I'm just floating along without goals. I look around at others and their planned-out lives, college then grad school then getting that specific, perfect job, meeting that perfect mate, pushing out 2.5 perfect children. I'm not like them.

Sometimes I feel a little empty inside and wonder what it's going to take to fill it. Sometimes I wonder if I'll always feel this way. Maybe it's the feeling of just not accepting things on the surface, not being placated by the mundane, by the ordinary. Is it because my mind is not spotless? I don't want to live a plastic life. I guess what I want is just to be different from the rest. I don't want to get stuck in suburbia with the husband and children and the wal-mart and starbucks. (Ok so I'd take the starbucks). I want to travel, and write, and live abroad, and be spontaneous, and take advantage of every fucking opportunity possible. Are these selfish thoughts?
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Tagged with: plans, travel, emptiness, humanity

Crotch Surfing - archive from Feb. 27, 2007

2008-01-29T04:36:00.001-08:00

Crotch Surfing?
Posted on Feb 27th, 2007 by InvisibleLife

My experience with couchsurfing has indeed been an interesting one. For the most part, it's been awesome. I've met some wonderful people and made some great friends. I'm sure some of these friendships will last a long time, or at least I hope they will. Then, of course, there is the fact that when my trip comes to an end, I will be able to proudly say that during my month long road trip, I only had to pay for a hotel room once. That's impressive, if I do say so myself.

I'm digressing from the title of my post... but I feel it is necessary to interject some wisdom I have picked up along my way. If I take any knowledge away from this trip, it is that I can truly make things happen for myself, however big or small. My solo roadtrip has solidified the belief that if you really want something, you better fucking go after it. Don't wait for anyone else to want the same thing as you. I was already on my way to that sort of thinking, but I don't think I believed in it 100%. I knew that it was possible, and I knew I could probably do it, but I didn't completely believe it. Now I do. It's amazing. I have also decided that if my friend Michelle ends up not wanting to go with me at the end of the year to Prague (where we are planning on teaching English for about a year) then I will just do it alone. And that will be just fine with me.

Back to crotch surfing. With traveling alone, you are bound to meet people. Opportunities are bound to arise. And for a fleeting moment, I was under the impression that I had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime. But, as they say, if it's too good to be true... You know the rest.

So, the story. I met a pair of dudes from Arizona, who were traveling the whole world in two years, and they were doing it by way of couchsurfing.com. They were taping their travels as well, editing them down into tiny segments, and producing weekly videos while on the road. And, (surprise!), they needed a third. But it had to be a she. And she had to be willing to put out. And guess who they wanted as the third? Yeah, little old me.

At first, before I realized their true intentions (of traveling the world and having lots of sex with lots of people including Camera Woman extraordinaire Jessica), I was honored and excited at the possibility of such a dramatic life change. But I quickly realized (while in the car from New Orleans to Memphis, with one of them as my passenger), that this opportunity was not for me. I mean, shit, it's great in theory, I guess. You have 3 people travelling the world together, needs arise, and they can be taken care of quite easily. It's just not for me. My own adventure awaits. And it doesn't involve sex with two kinda creepy dudes.
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Tagged with: proactivity, sex, prague, couch surfing, decisions, opportunity, future

Down down down - May 27, 2007

2008-01-29T04:35:00.001-08:00

down down down
Posted on May 22nd, 2007 by InvisibleLife

I haven't written for a while... A lot has been going on in my life, a lot of changes and newness and sadness. For some reason, I haven't been able to shake this feeling of emptiness and sadness lately. It's been pretty strong for a couple of weeks now and it's certainly wearing me thin. It's strange, though, because my roommate/best friend has been feeling the same way too. She told me the other day that she just feels like crying. I told her I feel the same way.

I wish we could figure out an equation for happiness. I guess my struggles lately have had to do with a couple of things. My new job is definitely one, and the other thing was a sort-of "relationship" that ended recently. I know it sounds horribly depressing, but I just feel so god damn lonely sometimes, a lot of the time. There's a pressure that society puts on us to be happy, and if we're not happy, there's something wrong with us. But it is ok to not be happy, it is ok to feel sad, to feel things. It just sucks and doesn't feel good. But I have to remember it's normal. Like I said, I just wish there was an equation to it all...I feel like I'm looking for something that I'm not going to find, at least not now. I think I'm looking for intimacy, or a relationship, or some sort of something that will make me feel less lonesome, and I realize that those are not the right times to find someone. Especially lately, since I've been feeling down... I know I have to focus on myself first and the rest will follow. I just don't know how to do that or what to do, I guess.

I think a huge part to my unhappiness is that I totally do not like my job, so that's unfortunate and disappointing. Hmm... I know we can make changes in our lives and it's only up to us to do that, but sometimes it's so difficult. It's my day off today, and I had no idea as to what I should do. So I just started driving, east, ended up in Auburn, California. It's super windy. I should probably head back to Sacramento soon, but I don't know what I will do when I get there. I feel like sleeping. I actually just feel really clouded, like I'm at about 80% of my usual self. Last night was the first night in about a month that I actually fell asleep naturally without some sort of drug or alcohol. Man I sound like I'm in bad shape!!! I feel bad for who ever's reading this...I know I sound like a mess... I guess it's just a mood, and I know it will pass.
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Chiang Mai - A smaller, wetter Bangkok

2006-09-24T07:02:00.000-07:00

(Note -- this was actually written around the 30th but because I picked up a previously saved entry and wrote on top of that, it picked up the day I started that one instead of the day I finished this one. Confused? It doesn't matter anyway I guess.)

Hello everyone! We are in Chiang Mai now, which is up North. It's a lot cooler up here, but still pretty darn hot and humid. I do find myself sweating all the time and crave A/C. Right now we are in another internet cafe a bit away from the Old Town of Chiang Mai. It's raining. It's been raining for about maybe one hour now, but it doesn't really seem like it's letting up. Also, we rented a motor scooter, so I'm not exactly sure how we are going to get back. Our intention was to ride up to this big mountain, maybe 20k away, uphill (which the motor scooter renter lady said would be fine) but now we are reconsidering. Many Thais are driving around like mad in the rain. It doesn't stop them -- but they are crazy -- so it might stop us. It's a bummer though, rain. We just ate at Mike's Original Burgers, and boy were they tasty. We've been sticking to Thai and Indian food throughout the trip basically, so a nice burger and fries and a coke really hit the spot. Oh yes and still no food poisoning, if anyone's counting.

A few days ago, not sure how many, we left Sukothai. In Sukothai though, we also rented a scooter and drove around to the ruins, it was really fun. So we left and went kinda southwest to this dump called Mae Sot. The only thing good about Mae Sot was the Rottee (SP?) aka yummy chewy Indian bread stuffed with stuff, like potatoes and chicken for example. It was deeeelish! Mae Sot was about a 4 hour bus ride away from Sukothai and people usually went there for 2 reasons; 1) to cross the border into Burma to get a new 30 day visa so they wouldn't have to get deported of whatever; and 2) to go south to Um Pang to do some awesome trekking. I can't remember if I've told you guys about trekking, but it's a several day journey (sometimes up to 2 weeks) where you basically walk through the mountains and jungle, raft on rivers, ride elephants, swim in waterfalls, and go visit hill tribe people. We were planning on doing this but decided not to... Not sure why.

I really wanted to get out of Mae Sot... yuck. We took a bus the next day up to Chiang Mai, finally. I really wanted to check it out. I like Chiang Mai, it is definitely smaller than Bangkok but it seems that everywhere you look, you see tourists. I've seen a few Starbucks too. It's kinda crazy. In Mae Sot, it felt like the end of the world. I did see foreigners there, but definitely far fewer than anywhere else. Also, getting help from the locals was utterly impossible as almost no one spoke or understood English and it seemed as though no one knew about any of the Guest Houses that were recommended in the Lonely Planet. We got dropped off in the middle of this market and just started walking which was a mistake because we got nowhere, and not quickly. We finally found a place that had been written up in the guide book but was definitely no Hilton.

I did get some crazy photos of the market, and people around Mae Sot. I know that the squemish won't want to see them, but they sold pig's heads and other crazy stuff. I will put photos on this blog soon, hopefully tommorow. Well we did want to go to Burma, thought that would have been cool, but because of the coup, Thailand closed the border to Burma so no one could cross. We were told that about 100 tourists got stuck on the Burma side for about 4 days because of this. We were also advised not to travel into Burma as the border was just reopened that day. So we didn't go. But Mae Sot was interesting only becuase there were so many differnet groups of people all living together there. There were Thais of course, Burmese, Indians, Karens (hill tribe people), Chinese, Hmong people (hill tribe peple as well), and lots of Muslims!!

So that was cool. But anyway, I just wanted to leave Mae Sot. So. We ended up in Chiang Mai after approximately 6 hours in a bus from Mae Sot. We got into town around 6pm and got dropped off by songthaew (a converted truck type vehicle where you sit in the back on cushioned benches -- thai taxi) and walked to about 2 retched guest houses before finding Gap's House, which SEEMED like a nice choice. It was not. It seemed quaint, with teak rooms that were very spacious and filled with antiques. Sounds nice right? Well they were also filled with dirt and dust and BED BUGS!! So we spent one night in the first room which was underneath what seemed to be like the manager's house (very very loud starting at 6am) then moved to the bed bug room for the second night. Of course we didn't realize there were all these bed bugs until we were ready for bed. So we stripped off all the sheets, right down to the mattress, and I used my own sheet from home that I had brought in case of something like this. It was a full-size Incredible Hulk sheet that I sewed in half, turning it into a sort of "sleep-sack." The hulk has definitely saved me a couple times now!

And that brings me to this morning, when we checked out of Gap's and into "Nice Apartment" which is pretty nice, it has air con AND tv AND hot water for only 250 baht per night! That's $6.65 US. And that brings me to right now, where it is still raining and we are still unsure about getting back. But I must get back and I promise to upload photos asap (don't have my camera cable with me right now) so I hope you've enjoyed the blog and I will write again soon.

Ayutthaya to Sukothai

2006-09-23T06:38:00.000-07:00

Well hello there!

Today, we found ourselves on a bus to Sukothai. But let me first tell you about Ayutthaya. That's where we stayed at the P.U. Inn, and it was pretty nice. A room for 2 was 300 Baht, which is approximately 10 US dollars. We had a private bathroom with hot water and everything. Ayutthaya is a pretty famous place here in Thailand, as it was once the capital of the country. In fact, it was the capital from 1350 AD until it was ransacked in 1767 by the Burmese. They sure must have hated Thais and Buddah for that matter because they desecrated all statues of Buddha in Ayutthaya and probably anywhere else they could find one. So Ayutthaya is full of beautiful ruins of temples and shrines and buildings, all for the Buddha. Here's one of the ruins:

We rented bicycles for about .75 for the whole day and rode around all over the town, from ruin to ruin to ruin to ruin.... and then after that, we saw some more ruins and ate some dim sum! The bikes were super easy to ride, they only had one gear and thankfully Ayutthaya is a pretty flat place. We saw so many ruins, but I enjoyed every one of them.

We had started early before the heat kicked in, around 8am, and by noon (after the dim sum) we were ready for a little break. The plan was to rest then continue when the day cooled off a bit and see more ruins. However, a huge terrential downpour kinda changed our plans. It rained so hard for about 45 minutes then stopped completely. Oh yes but on our bike ride we saw some cows!

Later on that evening, at 6pm, we took a river cruise in a "long tail" boat which is basically a long thin passenger boat with some giant hot rod engine sticking out the back. The old city of Ayutthaya is surrounded by this river, or is it a moat? And this is where we were. It took about 2.5 hours because the tour also included stopping at 3 temples/ruins along the way, and then we ended up at the night market. Since we had eaten there the previous night, we opted to go with the German girls to a really good touristy restaurant where we ate curries and veggies and bananna shakes. Yum!

After a while it started pouring again, and it was time for bed.

Man I've written all this and havent even gotten to the Sukothai part yet! Jeez louise. Well anyway, today we woke up at 7:30 and got packed up and showered and had breakfast with the German girls again (that was our plan from the previous evening) and then hired a tuk-tuk to take the 4 of us to the bus station where we caught a 6 hour bus to Sukothai! It cost about 8 dollars, not too shabby. I ate some questionable meat on a stick at one of our road stops along the way. I regret that.

When we arrived in Sukothai around 4:15, there were many tuk-tuk drivers waiting for our fresh foreign faces to jump on us like vultures and try to over charge us for rides into town. We negotiated and went to the JJ Inn, which is a really beautiful place with private Teak bungalows and hot showers again. We checked in and set out as Jon and I were hungry and ready to try some local cuisine. So we ended up at another night market and had some sweet & sour veggie tofu dish and a yummy seafood noodle dish, a big beer, and really yummy iced coffee. That cost about 190 Baht which is I guess about 4 dollars.

Then we walked around and found this really SHITTY and slow internet cafe, where all these little Thai kids are playing all these first person simulated shooter games and hogging all the bandwith while us tourists are just trying to share some photos with you!!! Stupid kids. OK Just kidding!!! Ha ha. I really am not that mean, just a little frustrated.

I think I'll wrap it up and will be speakin' at ya soon!

More Bangkok & photos

2006-09-21T07:25:00.000-07:00

Hello all!

And a quick sorry to those that I didn't send my first email to, I forgot to add certain contacts to my email list when I sent that one out. There are photos interspersed within this blog, some correspond to what I'm talkin' bout and others are just kinda random. I hope you enjoy them nonetheless.

We've been in Thailand for about 4 days (?) now, and FINALLY got the f*** out of Bangkok this afternoon. Leaving the smog and crazy drivers behind, we took the train to Ayuthya (sp?), approximately 2 hours north of the big dirty city. The train ride was nice and scenic; we passed lots of rice fields and houses on stilts, plus a shitload of shantys (quite depressing). We met two nice German girls on the train who are pretty much backpacking the same route as us. We're staying across the hall from them at the P.U. Guesthouse. It's not stinky, it's actually quite nice and clean, so the P.U. part is a mystery to me.

Our time in Bangkok was mostly spent shopping. I hate to say that, but its the truth. Where else can you buy trendy shirts for 2 dollars or silk pants for 3? Perhaps Malaysia. But this is Thailand and sweatshops are surely just as plentiful. Here are some photos of the nice clothing we saw. Ok they are actually photos of cats and clothes but what can I say?
I like cats.

We rode around in a bunch of tuk-tuks (modern day gas powered rickshaws) to see a few temples, including the famous Wat Po or Reclining Buddha. That dude's feet were huge! Ok the whole thing was huge; it was like a big golden buddha laying on his side with his head cradled by one hand; I believe the whole thing was about 50 meters. Jonathan bought a silk/cotton suit from some middle eastern tailors at the Manhattan, and our tuk-tuk driver made a nice commission, I'm sure. What else, what else....

Haven't gotten sick yet, which is a plus. And we've certainly been eating basically anything from street food to restaurant food, but you never can tell which dish is going to put you over the edge. Basically our rule of thumb is that if the place is empty, we'll keep walking.

Yesterday we found this awesome market called Patanum (sp?) market that was a cavernous maze of street vendors and stalls, indoor and outdoor, selling anything from pirated DVDs to fake MAC cosmetics to silks to carved penises to showgirl costumes. I bought some MAC makeup and Jonathan bought sandals. For a mid-shopping snack, I had some yummy grilled banannas on a stick (everything here seems to be on a stick) that were dipped in this sugary butter sauce, plus a weird waffle concoction with corn and raisins inside! Dee-lish!!! Oh yes, and in order to get to that area of Bangkok, we took a river boat which is basically like a public transportation bus or something, cheap as hell, but on the river! It was awesome. REALLY stinky and dirty but awesome.

And the big finale, for those of you who haven't been watching your CNN or BBC, there's been a disturbance in the Force, as the Prime minister was overthrown on Tuesday by the military leader who was dissatisfied by his said leader's performance. Bangkok didn't seem like a so-called "state of emergency" except the armed soldiers everywhere and tanks surrounding the goverment buildings. But hey, I think I may have been on CNN yesterday during an interview with the new, "temporary," Prime Minister. Some famous anchor from CNN was interviewing him in front of the old Prime Minister's house, and of course a big crowd of people had gathered around that scene, and can you guess who was right smack dab behind the new guy??? Me! That's right, the only white chick in the whole bunch. I must have stood out a bit? This photo here is of the newscast, the asian guy with glasses on the right of the photo is the "new" primeminister.

In any case, I'm going to go now and have a beer!

First email from Bangkok

2006-09-18T13:48:00.000-07:00

Ok Guys!!!!
We are officially in BANGKOK after about 17 hours of travel! The flights were fine, the hotel is great, it's 3:30 AM and I'm sweating like a pig on a barbeque!!! It's effing hot here, holy mother of god it's hot.
Jonathan and I are in one of the many internet cafes in the Kho San Road section (backpacker's area) and although much is closed, there are still few cafes and such open. They are playing some horrible Arnold Swartzanager film and the A/C isn't quite blasting but that's ok. We're here.
Hopefully we can get up in about 5 hours and get into the sun, have some coffee, and start adjusting to the time zone difference.
Well I just wanted to send this quick note to reassure my worried parents that we didn't end up like the cast of Lost, on an island somewhere in the Pacific with monsters chasing us in the jungle. So mom and dad and everyone else, I'll write later with more bizarre Bangkok stories.
Keep your fingers crossed that my deoderant holds up.
Love ya!
Jessica

Leavin' on a jet plane... on Sunday

2006-09-13T22:33:00.000-07:00

It's my first official entry on this blogger thingamajig, and I'm pretty stoked to say that I'm leaving for Thailand on Sunday. I should be looking for hotels at the moment, but instead I'm fooling around with my Ipod, updating it with some songs a friend remixed.

I'll be out of the country for a whole month and I'm not sure if I should laugh or cry about it.
The good: I'll be visiting a place I've wanted to see for years, a beautiful country, I'll be meeting humble, friendly, giving people, eating amazing food, SHOPPING til my little heart's content, and being away from HERE for a whole month! It may end up changing my life. And...I'll be experiencing much of it alone.

The bad: I'll be experiencing much of it alone. No one to walk with at night, no one to share my warmth, my thoughts, my bed, my dinner, my looks, my laughs or tears. No one to take pictures of me, or to take pictures with. No familiar face to call home as I travel through a foreign world. It may end up changing my life.

In March of this year, I bought my plane ticket with a boyfriend of not quite four years. As of 3 months ago, said boyfriend abandoned me in the worst way, dumping me on my ass, kicking me out of my home, expelling me from his life, with little warning and less communication. Bitter? Me??? Nah.

Nevertheless, the trip was planned and paid for, and goddammit will happen I tell you! At first I thought, hell no I'm not going to Thailand with this guy! That would be like taking the knife that already penetrated my left ventricle and turning it sideways to slice the right. Plus, why should he have all the fun, all the happy endings? ;) No, I deserve a happy ending as much as he does, and although I plan on partaking in many a thai massage, and that will make me happy I'm sure, I don't think I'll go for the infamous happy ending massage. I digress.

Sunday at 6:15pm, SFO, Eva Airlines. His mom is driving us. Isn't that sweet. 13 hours in the air, an hour ten in Taipei (probably spent by running to the next gate) then another 4 or so hours in the air... and... Bangkok!!! Now if I could just get that song out of my head... "One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster." I'll let you know if the saying is true...