Last night I had a dream that I was a contestant on a reality TV show called Lifestyle Losers. I had made it through the screen process so their were 12 of us total. 6 women and six men. I terrified one of the men at one point, he had done something for me and seemed the nicest of the lot. I threw my arms him in a hug and you’re the best, I just love you. He was terrified.
Before the contest I had been staying at my brother's in San Diego and I marveled at how I had been chosen. But I didn't really know the back-story, I just thought it was amazing.
The people in the competition were all sorts of people with problems, shyness, stupidity, nerdy, jocks, and at least two artist who couldn't make a go of their art. I assumed I was one of those. The people were pretty, or ugly in terns, and the goal, so far as I could tell was to prove that with a little help you could be great. My strategy was to be nice, outgoing, and show my talent but always play nice.
I didn't get off to a good start, I immediately stepped on a few toes.
We all ended up having to take a train somewhere. And on my way to the train, on of the guys working on the show gave me a friendly warning. He was the butler. He had yellow eyes like an animal. I found them terrifying, hypnotic, attractive and revolting in turns. He told me I wasn't well liked among the contestants, and he was impartial to my plight, but since I was oblivious to what was going on around me he figured he'd warn me, be careful. I think he liked me. He said he would be there for support for all of us, but he thought I needed a little looking out for...
Then we talked about his job. Being a butler. I had thought he was a strong arm, maybe security, not a butler. I mention I'd only known one other butler, my friend Jeff dated him. His name was Kevin, but I was blanking the name I kept coming up with Nat or Nate. He though he knew Kevin but he wasn't sure. He didn't think his Kevin would date a boy.
I told him I thought I could win. He agreed but said I'd have to shape up and be careful. I couldn't afford to alienate these people. We had been sitting in a car he reached across me to open my door. He was a big guy, there was an implied threat in the gesture.
I woke up.
And that was it.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Wedding bells are ringing...
Where am I going to be on September 12th at 4pm? At my cousin Chris’s wedding in Maine of course. That’s a little drilled into my mind because I’ve been working on his wedding invitations. Which has been in turns, stressful, fun, exciting, draining, creative, numbing and ultimately fruitful.
I finally finished the sample invitations.
I finally finished the sample invitations.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Welcome to the jungle
So I have this idea in my head. I’m doing a series of… um.. uh… well… It’s a series. It’s actually the same image done over and over again. With very few changes really. Sounds exciting huh? Right.
Well it’s the way my mind works I get an idea and it sits there and sits there and waits patiently as I ignore it and then it grows. And it grows. And it grows. And finally it pushes my other thoughts away until I start working on it.
This one is a little long term.
So I committed to it. And you would think I’d have picked some fantastic image if I were going to be stuck with it and committing all of this time and energy to it. But I didn’t. I drew something quick and stuck myself with it.
And what is the point of this one?
I got nothing. I don’t know what it’s for.
The images are different sized and media and probably will never fit together but… I’ve never done a series before. Not the same image anyway.
In the jungle….
More on the way...
Well it’s the way my mind works I get an idea and it sits there and sits there and waits patiently as I ignore it and then it grows. And it grows. And it grows. And finally it pushes my other thoughts away until I start working on it.
This one is a little long term.
So I committed to it. And you would think I’d have picked some fantastic image if I were going to be stuck with it and committing all of this time and energy to it. But I didn’t. I drew something quick and stuck myself with it.
And what is the point of this one?
I got nothing. I don’t know what it’s for.
The images are different sized and media and probably will never fit together but… I’ve never done a series before. Not the same image anyway.
In the jungle….
More on the way...
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
I’m a feminist.
And I mean that. I mean it in the “I won’t apologize” kind of way. I mean it in the “I’ll stand up for myself and anyone else I need to” kind of way. And I mean that in the “I’ll support Hillary” kind of way.
If you don’t support Hillary are you not a feminist?
No, of course not. You might be a republican. Or an independent. Or an Obama supporter.
You can be an Obama supporter and a feminist of course.
I’ll try to refrain from adding a judgmental comment about Obama’s voting record, his inexperience, and the slightly misogynistic language he occasionally uses. Oh snap! I commented on that. Well it’s all in good fun.
This bit is from a Lynn Harris piece on Salon.com
But. If Hillary supporters are pissed off, and maybe even taking it out inappropriately on their Obama friends, I'd say we have reason to be. And this is what Darnton's essay fails to capture. We are frustrated. Not necessarily because we expect or demand that all women (!) must vote a certain way. Not necessarily by the possibility of an Obama win, but by that of a Clinton loss. And not just by that potential loss -- which, I should underscore, is not a done deal, even as the orchestra tunes for the ritual dance-on-grave -- but by (some of) the reasons that may be behind it.
We are frustrated by Clinton's dumb luck: Obama's advent, in this race of all races, is her "Snakes. It had to be snakes."
We are frustrated by the much-documented and -discussed perception that the media is harder on Hillary, or, as the case may be, sillier. (Witness the "Miss Frigidaire" question from Katie Couric, a woman who should know a little something about having one's "personality" appear to trump one's accomplishments.)
We are frustrated by the feeling that we skipped a step somewhere: How did a progressive female candidate come -- at least by comparison -- to represent The Man?
We are frustrated by the way it became "cool" to vote Obama and uncool to vote otherwise; this is an orthodoxy unto itself.
We are frustrated that diversity of opinion among women -- as if we're all on one big giant Listserv ("Who are you voting for? And what are you wearing? OK me too bye!") -- is so often reported as "division." (Even in articles about why Clinton supporters are frustrated!)
We are frustrated because it really would be pretty great to have a progressive woman president. Sue us.
And we are, yes, frustrated by people -- enlightened people! -- who say things like, "I agree with all her policies, I just don't ... like her." Or that she’s "cold." Or "calculating." (We all know about "shrill.") (Which to me, for the record, describes John McCain.)
That, my friends, is sexism the way racism is crossing the street at night when someone black approaches; it's ingrained at this point, reflexive. And that, my friends, is (in part) drinking the misogynist anti-Clinton Kool-Aid the GOP's been stirring up since 1993. I won't call them "terrorists," but it's letting them win.
So anyway I’m a feminist, and I like Hillary and I’m tired of apologizing for it. And if you really want to hate Hill go for it. Just understand what your reasons are, and what part the media played in them.
I’m sick of people telling me I’m a raging feminist, I’d like them to say I’m a supportive feminist. I’m tired of people teasing me, or belittling my points even as a joke. I have a sense of humor but that’s just not funny. But I put up with more than I’d care to.
Worse than that are the people who think we’ve achieved the proper balance and there’s no fight left. It’s this men and women are different and we should just accept this attitude that really does me in. Women who seemingly inherently trust men more than women hurt my head. They’re out there though.
Sigh.
So I’m a feminist, frustrated, but trained to be patient. I can wait with the best of them.
And as I waited for the writer’s strike to end… I never really gave it any thought of how it was affecting campaigns. I didn’t think about late night, or SNL or really anything, certain not the political part they play in primaries. Maybe Arron Sorkin was right… he did follow up the West Wing with Studio 60. And one of the complaints was that the comedy was taken just as seriously as the politics were.
And then I saw this in the Boston Globe today.
If you don’t support Hillary are you not a feminist?
No, of course not. You might be a republican. Or an independent. Or an Obama supporter.
You can be an Obama supporter and a feminist of course.
I’ll try to refrain from adding a judgmental comment about Obama’s voting record, his inexperience, and the slightly misogynistic language he occasionally uses. Oh snap! I commented on that. Well it’s all in good fun.
This bit is from a Lynn Harris piece on Salon.com
But. If Hillary supporters are pissed off, and maybe even taking it out inappropriately on their Obama friends, I'd say we have reason to be. And this is what Darnton's essay fails to capture. We are frustrated. Not necessarily because we expect or demand that all women (!) must vote a certain way. Not necessarily by the possibility of an Obama win, but by that of a Clinton loss. And not just by that potential loss -- which, I should underscore, is not a done deal, even as the orchestra tunes for the ritual dance-on-grave -- but by (some of) the reasons that may be behind it.
We are frustrated by Clinton's dumb luck: Obama's advent, in this race of all races, is her "Snakes. It had to be snakes."
We are frustrated by the much-documented and -discussed perception that the media is harder on Hillary, or, as the case may be, sillier. (Witness the "Miss Frigidaire" question from Katie Couric, a woman who should know a little something about having one's "personality" appear to trump one's accomplishments.)
We are frustrated by the feeling that we skipped a step somewhere: How did a progressive female candidate come -- at least by comparison -- to represent The Man?
We are frustrated by the way it became "cool" to vote Obama and uncool to vote otherwise; this is an orthodoxy unto itself.
We are frustrated that diversity of opinion among women -- as if we're all on one big giant Listserv ("Who are you voting for? And what are you wearing? OK me too bye!") -- is so often reported as "division." (Even in articles about why Clinton supporters are frustrated!)
We are frustrated because it really would be pretty great to have a progressive woman president. Sue us.
And we are, yes, frustrated by people -- enlightened people! -- who say things like, "I agree with all her policies, I just don't ... like her." Or that she’s "cold." Or "calculating." (We all know about "shrill.") (Which to me, for the record, describes John McCain.)
That, my friends, is sexism the way racism is crossing the street at night when someone black approaches; it's ingrained at this point, reflexive. And that, my friends, is (in part) drinking the misogynist anti-Clinton Kool-Aid the GOP's been stirring up since 1993. I won't call them "terrorists," but it's letting them win.
So anyway I’m a feminist, and I like Hillary and I’m tired of apologizing for it. And if you really want to hate Hill go for it. Just understand what your reasons are, and what part the media played in them.
I’m sick of people telling me I’m a raging feminist, I’d like them to say I’m a supportive feminist. I’m tired of people teasing me, or belittling my points even as a joke. I have a sense of humor but that’s just not funny. But I put up with more than I’d care to.
Worse than that are the people who think we’ve achieved the proper balance and there’s no fight left. It’s this men and women are different and we should just accept this attitude that really does me in. Women who seemingly inherently trust men more than women hurt my head. They’re out there though.
Sigh.
So I’m a feminist, frustrated, but trained to be patient. I can wait with the best of them.
And as I waited for the writer’s strike to end… I never really gave it any thought of how it was affecting campaigns. I didn’t think about late night, or SNL or really anything, certain not the political part they play in primaries. Maybe Arron Sorkin was right… he did follow up the West Wing with Studio 60. And one of the complaints was that the comedy was taken just as seriously as the politics were.
And then I saw this in the Boston Globe today.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Pneumonic...
I used to use the planets as a pneumonic device to remember the mnemonic device for the planets.
The planets themselves were easy for some reason I could see them lined up in row, remembering which ones were bigger or smaller, hotter and colder helped.
Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto were easier for me to remember than “My very excited mother just served us nine pizzas.” My mother personally wouldn’t be too excited to serve us at all.
Had the pneumonic device been more exciting… I might have remembered that.
I did use that pneumonic device to remember the classifications:
King Philip came over for great sex.
I had imagined Prince Philip from sleeping beauty grew up to be king, and still a hottie at that, I'm sure the sex was great!
Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.
I knew the order of the spectrum before my dad taught me Roy G. Biv. But I wish the president had known about Roy G. Biv before he came out with his color codes for terror. The spectrum is red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. His color code went (form highest to lowest levels) red, orange, yellow, blue, and green. It irked me to say the least. It also irked me that nobody noticed or reported on the breach in the spectrum. But that’s another story.
So now there are new planets (Ceres and Eris) and a new pneumonic device to remember. Maybe this one will stick with me.
My Very Exciting Magic Carpet Just Sailed Under Nine Palace Elephants.
I’ve got to say… I like this one.
The planets themselves were easy for some reason I could see them lined up in row, remembering which ones were bigger or smaller, hotter and colder helped.
Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto were easier for me to remember than “My very excited mother just served us nine pizzas.” My mother personally wouldn’t be too excited to serve us at all.
Had the pneumonic device been more exciting… I might have remembered that.
I did use that pneumonic device to remember the classifications:
King Philip came over for great sex.
I had imagined Prince Philip from sleeping beauty grew up to be king, and still a hottie at that, I'm sure the sex was great!
Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.
I knew the order of the spectrum before my dad taught me Roy G. Biv. But I wish the president had known about Roy G. Biv before he came out with his color codes for terror. The spectrum is red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. His color code went (form highest to lowest levels) red, orange, yellow, blue, and green. It irked me to say the least. It also irked me that nobody noticed or reported on the breach in the spectrum. But that’s another story.
So now there are new planets (Ceres and Eris) and a new pneumonic device to remember. Maybe this one will stick with me.
My Very Exciting Magic Carpet Just Sailed Under Nine Palace Elephants.
I’ve got to say… I like this one.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Movie Quote Quiz...
Right, Hadley did this. It's a list of movie quotes, some easy some maybe not form some of my favorite movies. Without looking them up... see how many you can guess.
1. That's the best introduction I've ever heard. "How do you do. Come and have a bathe." Hadley - A Room With a View
2. So, eleven hundred men went in the water; 316 men come out and the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.
3. That outfit’s wearing you, Felix.
4. I've always been considered an asshole for about as long as I can remember. That's just my style. But I'd really feel blue if I didn't think you were going to forgive me.
5. You bet. I finish work, I go home, read a book, have a couple of beers, take myself for a walk and go to bed. Hadley - The Muppet Movie
6. Those were the best years of his life, 'cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? You know, total waste. Didn't learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you're 18... Ah, think of the suffering you're gonna miss. I mean high school? High school-those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.
7. They say bread is life. And I bake bread, bread, *bread*. And I sweat and shovel this stinkin' dough in and out of this hot hole in the wall, and I should be *so* happy! Huh, sweetie?
8. That was the end of Grogan... the man who killed my father, raped and murdered my sister, burned my ranch, shot my dog, and stole my Bible!
9. I know I promised, Lord, never again. But I also know that YOU know what a weak-willed person I am.
10. Nothing? Nothing? NOTHING? Nothing, tra la la?
11. You total slut, you have a crush on him. You're defending him, you love him, you wanna have, like, ten thousand of his babies.
12. You see, that's one of the great things about getting involved with someone from another country. You can't take it personally. What's really terrific is that when we act in ways which might objectively seem asshole-ish or, or, incredibly annoying, they don't get upset at all. They don't take it personally. They just assume it's some national characteristic.
13. Sometimes the spaghetti likes to be alone.
14. In a sense, yes. My art has been commended as being strongly vaginal which bothers some men. The word itself makes some men uncomfortable. Vagina. Hadley - The Big Lebowski
15. Oh. It's not easy getting rides. Do you know what I mean? I mean most people are real afraid to pick up hitchhikers. I mean you never know who you might pick up. I mean I could be some crazed slime ball. I mean a real deranged, violent psycho. You know what I mean? I mean a guy who would rip out your heart and eat it just for pleasure
1. That's the best introduction I've ever heard. "How do you do. Come and have a bathe." Hadley - A Room With a View
2. So, eleven hundred men went in the water; 316 men come out and the sharks took the rest, June the 29th, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.
3. That outfit’s wearing you, Felix.
4. I've always been considered an asshole for about as long as I can remember. That's just my style. But I'd really feel blue if I didn't think you were going to forgive me.
5. You bet. I finish work, I go home, read a book, have a couple of beers, take myself for a walk and go to bed. Hadley - The Muppet Movie
6. Those were the best years of his life, 'cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? You know, total waste. Didn't learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you're 18... Ah, think of the suffering you're gonna miss. I mean high school? High school-those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that.
7. They say bread is life. And I bake bread, bread, *bread*. And I sweat and shovel this stinkin' dough in and out of this hot hole in the wall, and I should be *so* happy! Huh, sweetie?
8. That was the end of Grogan... the man who killed my father, raped and murdered my sister, burned my ranch, shot my dog, and stole my Bible!
9. I know I promised, Lord, never again. But I also know that YOU know what a weak-willed person I am.
10. Nothing? Nothing? NOTHING? Nothing, tra la la?
11. You total slut, you have a crush on him. You're defending him, you love him, you wanna have, like, ten thousand of his babies.
12. You see, that's one of the great things about getting involved with someone from another country. You can't take it personally. What's really terrific is that when we act in ways which might objectively seem asshole-ish or, or, incredibly annoying, they don't get upset at all. They don't take it personally. They just assume it's some national characteristic.
13. Sometimes the spaghetti likes to be alone.
14. In a sense, yes. My art has been commended as being strongly vaginal which bothers some men. The word itself makes some men uncomfortable. Vagina. Hadley - The Big Lebowski
15. Oh. It's not easy getting rides. Do you know what I mean? I mean most people are real afraid to pick up hitchhikers. I mean you never know who you might pick up. I mean I could be some crazed slime ball. I mean a real deranged, violent psycho. You know what I mean? I mean a guy who would rip out your heart and eat it just for pleasure
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
dOg...
For those of you reading this that’s not Dog (dawg) that’s dOg (doag). It’s a hard O. Why? I’m not sure but I’ve been calling it the dOg for some time. Time to work on the dOg…
The dOg is a gift for my cousin Steve and his lovely bride Lindsay. The dOg is actually a painting of their dog Hailey. It’s going to be used for the table numbers at their wedding. Their favors for their wedding are actually donations to the shelter where they got Hailey. Which sure beats Jordan Almonds as far as favors go. I loathe Jordan Almonds. It’s very cute and I had some fun painting it.
My next picture should be boat. Which will be a gift for my brother.
The dOg is a gift for my cousin Steve and his lovely bride Lindsay. The dOg is actually a painting of their dog Hailey. It’s going to be used for the table numbers at their wedding. Their favors for their wedding are actually donations to the shelter where they got Hailey. Which sure beats Jordan Almonds as far as favors go. I loathe Jordan Almonds. It’s very cute and I had some fun painting it.
My next picture should be boat. Which will be a gift for my brother.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Valentine's Day
Happy Valentines Day folks. Here are the valentines I made for today. Go ahead and print them up, cut them up and hand them out. Think of them like those valentines that you used to get in school. Give your favorites to your friends, give you least favorite to you enemies. Have fun!
Happy Valentines Day!
Happy Valentines Day!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
After the snow...
Some of you might know this image from facebook or other places I posted it. Having developed a fondness for the image I decided to try it out in watercolor and I'm somewhat pleased with the results. It's still not right... but it good enough for now. I'm trying to keep this up for a while. We should turn inspiration away if we can help it right?
Monday, February 11, 2008
An artist in name...
The other day I mentioned to a co-worker that sometimes I didn’t think of myself as an artist anymore. He asked me way.
I launched into and explanation of how I don’t make any money off of it, I don’t have time to do what I want, I lack confidence and motivation. I amended, sometimes I still do think of myself as an artist… but I’m failing. I joked that I couldn’t conceive of being defined by my job so there was no choice but to be an artist. But my confidence is shaky about this. I remember art, and I don’t know that what I do is anything like that.
My mom’s birthday was coming up. It was actually last week. And I wanted to give here some framed art. But my art… is what it is and often it is not hung on peoples walls. It’s described as children’s book illustrations. I suppose its true but… why does that seam so insulting sometimes? And why do I draw so many strange little children’s scenes, with fish and animals and mermaids and whatnot?
So I had an idea. A terrible idea… a tacky idea. I would take a photo that I liked from my cell phone, which was little blurry and off and paint it for mum. You have to understand that this idea intimidated me. I haven’t done anything like that since college, since high school. I picked a fun image, my sister and I in red in blue wigs, on the way to the Patriots game. I wanted to like the image. I didn’t want to get sick of it half way through.
My first attempt was laughable. I abandoned it soon in... feeling nonplussed about the whole affair. But something inside of me was ticking, and I thought to myself surely you can do better than that. And I did.
So it’s not perfect. I’m seeing more faults by the minute… but I didn’t think I could do this any more. It’s kind of like doing the handstand.
Hadley gave me the best compliment I could possibly get. She told me I had another donut moment. I couldn't have been more pleased.
I launched into and explanation of how I don’t make any money off of it, I don’t have time to do what I want, I lack confidence and motivation. I amended, sometimes I still do think of myself as an artist… but I’m failing. I joked that I couldn’t conceive of being defined by my job so there was no choice but to be an artist. But my confidence is shaky about this. I remember art, and I don’t know that what I do is anything like that.
My mom’s birthday was coming up. It was actually last week. And I wanted to give here some framed art. But my art… is what it is and often it is not hung on peoples walls. It’s described as children’s book illustrations. I suppose its true but… why does that seam so insulting sometimes? And why do I draw so many strange little children’s scenes, with fish and animals and mermaids and whatnot?
So I had an idea. A terrible idea… a tacky idea. I would take a photo that I liked from my cell phone, which was little blurry and off and paint it for mum. You have to understand that this idea intimidated me. I haven’t done anything like that since college, since high school. I picked a fun image, my sister and I in red in blue wigs, on the way to the Patriots game. I wanted to like the image. I didn’t want to get sick of it half way through.
My first attempt was laughable. I abandoned it soon in... feeling nonplussed about the whole affair. But something inside of me was ticking, and I thought to myself surely you can do better than that. And I did.
So it’s not perfect. I’m seeing more faults by the minute… but I didn’t think I could do this any more. It’s kind of like doing the handstand.
Hadley gave me the best compliment I could possibly get. She told me I had another donut moment. I couldn't have been more pleased.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Christmas time is here...
So this is a little drawing that I waited to post until after Christmas.
I'm at work right now and I'm in the throws of the Christmas Blues. I want to be home right now, I want to be with my family. I want to be sitting around eating leftovers and watching Christmas movies. I want to still be wrapped up in the holiday spirit.
But I'm not... I'm sad and lonely at work. I'm tired and blue.
But I thought maybe if I posted this I'd feel better. It's an image I did for my Mom's present although I ended up using it for my sister's present as well. I actually did the snowman as a complete painting on it's own before I decided to add the kids. And the kids represent my brother, sister and me. I only wish I'd ben a stylish kid like that.
Anyway... Merry Christmas everyone. I hope you had a good one.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Presents under the tree...
Every year I set out to write something meaningful about Christmas, my favorite time of year. And with the exception of an observation about glorious failure last year… everything I write turns to sugar, sweet but ultimately unsatisfying.
Beth and I had a Christmas Party last weekend. It was small but fun. The guests seamed to enjoy themselves, and because it was small, each person was presented with a small but thought out gift. There were snowflake swizzle sticks for mom, and a special loose tea mug for Eva, Sarah got a jar of Sarah Beth jam, and Dana got a twirling ribbon (which we must have discussed 14 years ago). People were surprised by the little gifts and pleased.
Beth had her presents for the family and friends nestled sweetly under the tree. And there were several comments about the quantity of gifts. Were all of them real? Who could they possibly be for?
Beth and I marveled at this… there were a lot presents under the tree, and none were in fact fake. The presents, were for our cousins, and Aunt and Uncle, Mom, Will, me, our brother Brian… they were for Beth’s friends.
We, my sister and I give each other a fairly large amount of presents each year and we each give our mother multiple presents and our brother. We don’t usually exchange just one gift. So this must have baffled the guests at the party.
The thing about that is… when my dad died, my aunts, with only the best intentions really, had tried their best to look after and protect my mom that year. Sometimes that meant trying to protect her from us. They presumed they new what she needed. They did so only from kindness… but sometimes she needed us. Sometimes she needed the truth, and sometimes she needed to understand that we needed her too. When my dad died for at least six months, we lost both parents. My mother was not there anymore… which is understandable, she lost the love of her life. And it literally took an afternoon of screaming at her, to finally make her understand that she needed to come back. This was the type of thing her sisters would protect her from.
Resentment grew between my aunts, and my sister and I. Christmas was coming… Everyone was worried abut Christmas that year, it was the first Christmas without my father. Christmas was going to be hard. We asked for a list from my mother, a list of gifts she’d like for Christmas, determined to get her whatever she wanted that year. The list was made, a black velvet jacket, a pair of boots, a black skirt…
I don’t remember everything on the list, but my sister and I got everything on the list. We knew we had to take dad’s place this year. He was the one who bought her the most gifts. Now it was up to us. I had been putting my mother’s stocking together for years. Since I was 16 and my father passed that honor on to me. We were poor and in school and struggling but we were going to prove that we could take care of this. Even though my father had died, we were still a family, a complete family unit. We didn’t need the aunts to take care of my mother, we could do this.
We went into Christmas with something to prove, something to prove to my aunts, to my mom, and to ourselves. We were proving (as we had repeated so many times since my father’s death) that things were going to be okay.
It was a very merry Christmas that morning… my mother was overwhelmed by her gifts, by our efforts. There were many tears, of joy, and sorrow, and overwhelming sense of gratitude shared between all of us. Grateful that we had each other.
When we went to our aunt’s house, my mom’s sister had also fulfilled my mother’s wish list. They were again filled with the best intentions. It was a sweet gesture by the sisters who adore her. And with a very un-Christmas like glee my sister and I watched as each gift was opened. You see the gifts we had already given her were enough. Each present was opened sweetly and my mother would thank them and mention that we too had given her boots, or a velvet jacket, or a skirt… and whatnot. We were vindicated. We needed this.
We get along well with my aunts these days. Although, I’ve noticed of all of the cousins, we are the only ones who address them without their titles.
As for all of those Christmas presents under the tree that seem excessive… we take the role my father had, providing my mother with the majority of her Christmas presents for the last 11 years… I think we got used to playing Santa for her and for each other.
I used to believe in Santa, and stopped over time… only to believe again. Because of course we are all Santa Claus… if only we believe.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
Beth and I had a Christmas Party last weekend. It was small but fun. The guests seamed to enjoy themselves, and because it was small, each person was presented with a small but thought out gift. There were snowflake swizzle sticks for mom, and a special loose tea mug for Eva, Sarah got a jar of Sarah Beth jam, and Dana got a twirling ribbon (which we must have discussed 14 years ago). People were surprised by the little gifts and pleased.
Beth had her presents for the family and friends nestled sweetly under the tree. And there were several comments about the quantity of gifts. Were all of them real? Who could they possibly be for?
Beth and I marveled at this… there were a lot presents under the tree, and none were in fact fake. The presents, were for our cousins, and Aunt and Uncle, Mom, Will, me, our brother Brian… they were for Beth’s friends.
We, my sister and I give each other a fairly large amount of presents each year and we each give our mother multiple presents and our brother. We don’t usually exchange just one gift. So this must have baffled the guests at the party.
The thing about that is… when my dad died, my aunts, with only the best intentions really, had tried their best to look after and protect my mom that year. Sometimes that meant trying to protect her from us. They presumed they new what she needed. They did so only from kindness… but sometimes she needed us. Sometimes she needed the truth, and sometimes she needed to understand that we needed her too. When my dad died for at least six months, we lost both parents. My mother was not there anymore… which is understandable, she lost the love of her life. And it literally took an afternoon of screaming at her, to finally make her understand that she needed to come back. This was the type of thing her sisters would protect her from.
Resentment grew between my aunts, and my sister and I. Christmas was coming… Everyone was worried abut Christmas that year, it was the first Christmas without my father. Christmas was going to be hard. We asked for a list from my mother, a list of gifts she’d like for Christmas, determined to get her whatever she wanted that year. The list was made, a black velvet jacket, a pair of boots, a black skirt…
I don’t remember everything on the list, but my sister and I got everything on the list. We knew we had to take dad’s place this year. He was the one who bought her the most gifts. Now it was up to us. I had been putting my mother’s stocking together for years. Since I was 16 and my father passed that honor on to me. We were poor and in school and struggling but we were going to prove that we could take care of this. Even though my father had died, we were still a family, a complete family unit. We didn’t need the aunts to take care of my mother, we could do this.
We went into Christmas with something to prove, something to prove to my aunts, to my mom, and to ourselves. We were proving (as we had repeated so many times since my father’s death) that things were going to be okay.
It was a very merry Christmas that morning… my mother was overwhelmed by her gifts, by our efforts. There were many tears, of joy, and sorrow, and overwhelming sense of gratitude shared between all of us. Grateful that we had each other.
When we went to our aunt’s house, my mom’s sister had also fulfilled my mother’s wish list. They were again filled with the best intentions. It was a sweet gesture by the sisters who adore her. And with a very un-Christmas like glee my sister and I watched as each gift was opened. You see the gifts we had already given her were enough. Each present was opened sweetly and my mother would thank them and mention that we too had given her boots, or a velvet jacket, or a skirt… and whatnot. We were vindicated. We needed this.
We get along well with my aunts these days. Although, I’ve noticed of all of the cousins, we are the only ones who address them without their titles.
As for all of those Christmas presents under the tree that seem excessive… we take the role my father had, providing my mother with the majority of her Christmas presents for the last 11 years… I think we got used to playing Santa for her and for each other.
I used to believe in Santa, and stopped over time… only to believe again. Because of course we are all Santa Claus… if only we believe.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
We don’t have places like this in Boston.
This is what I remember form my dream the other night. I was standing on a bridge with a few people fishing on either side pulling up colorful fish after fish. The sky was grey and purple… the trees were that bright green of early summer. And the buildings around us, we were in a city where white and grey… old and stained. But the colors of the fish, and turquoise water and the trees were so saturated. I thought we don’t have anything like this in Boston. And that’s all that I remember!...
But I was painting this at the time I had the dream and I think it influenced my landscape.
The words were peacock, tent, stormy, drinking, and glamour.
Things I like about this piece:
That middle tree, the expression on the peacock with its head down, the color of the sky.
Things I don’t like about this piece:
Her mouth, the rainbow quality to the color, I should have made the tent darker or lighter.
Now I have start my Christmas card. Which is scaring my right now. I have some ideas but nothing solid yet. In a fit of despair I looked for inspiration in the one place I knew would enchant me. My big book of Jim Henson. Somewhere in the middle there are pictures of the Jim Henson Christmas cards through the years. Many simple, others elegant, others warm. 20 years from now I want to have a collection of card half so impressive. Which means I have to get started on this. Sigh… why is it so hard to get started?
Oh blank page I’m coming for you.
But I was painting this at the time I had the dream and I think it influenced my landscape.
The words were peacock, tent, stormy, drinking, and glamour.
Things I like about this piece:
That middle tree, the expression on the peacock with its head down, the color of the sky.
Things I don’t like about this piece:
Her mouth, the rainbow quality to the color, I should have made the tent darker or lighter.
Now I have start my Christmas card. Which is scaring my right now. I have some ideas but nothing solid yet. In a fit of despair I looked for inspiration in the one place I knew would enchant me. My big book of Jim Henson. Somewhere in the middle there are pictures of the Jim Henson Christmas cards through the years. Many simple, others elegant, others warm. 20 years from now I want to have a collection of card half so impressive. Which means I have to get started on this. Sigh… why is it so hard to get started?
Oh blank page I’m coming for you.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Taken away....
The other day I was in a used book store. One of those stores that specializes in old books, you know the type of store, they all have that smell… the smell of the past. It’s dust, and damp, age and secrets… the smell of tombs and treasure. These are dreams hidden away in labyrinth of shelves.
And on the counter, a book, an afterthought, waiting to be put away… was book that caught my eye. “Cape Cod Folk – A Novel” It was a book about a trial, set down the cape, written in the late 1800’s. It held no desire for me… this was not a book I’d read.
But for a moment it took me away. And I thought of my dad. I would have bought this for him for Christmas. I could see it all… the stocking with the book nestled snugly inside the title peeking out, with a pair of warm black gloves beside it.
Suddenly it was Christmas, at the old house, the house I grew up in. There was never such a house as this for Christmas. The house was built for Christmas. The fireplace with the window above the mantle. So you can watch the snow and the fire at the same time. There was an alcove to the side of the fireplace, where we’d put the tree. We used to cut our own trees and they were widely regarded as sparse, “Charlie Brown” Trees. They were big wide natural trees deep with hollows for hiding away ornaments, toys and candy.
And suddenly I was happy to be thinking about my dad, and Christmas. I felt so warm and happy, and lucky. Lucky to have such memories, lucky to have seen something that reminded me of my father… just lucky.
And on the counter, a book, an afterthought, waiting to be put away… was book that caught my eye. “Cape Cod Folk – A Novel” It was a book about a trial, set down the cape, written in the late 1800’s. It held no desire for me… this was not a book I’d read.
But for a moment it took me away. And I thought of my dad. I would have bought this for him for Christmas. I could see it all… the stocking with the book nestled snugly inside the title peeking out, with a pair of warm black gloves beside it.
Suddenly it was Christmas, at the old house, the house I grew up in. There was never such a house as this for Christmas. The house was built for Christmas. The fireplace with the window above the mantle. So you can watch the snow and the fire at the same time. There was an alcove to the side of the fireplace, where we’d put the tree. We used to cut our own trees and they were widely regarded as sparse, “Charlie Brown” Trees. They were big wide natural trees deep with hollows for hiding away ornaments, toys and candy.
And suddenly I was happy to be thinking about my dad, and Christmas. I felt so warm and happy, and lucky. Lucky to have such memories, lucky to have seen something that reminded me of my father… just lucky.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
This feels interesting...
Do you want to know why yoga is such a humbling experience?
Because it’s widely acknowledged that two of the toughest poses are Savasana and Tadasana. For those of you not familiar with yoga speak that’s laying on your back and standing up strait. Getting the full benefits of these poses is tough. Mmm hmm. This is humbling stuff.
Right… I had yoga yesterday. It was the usual. I worked really hard, had a few moments when I started to beg to come out of position and laughed when someone said they couldn’t feel something in their hamstrings.
I can always feel something in my hamstrings. My hamstrings are so tight, I chronically worry about them during class. Not so much “Will I be able to stretch them enough…” I won’t but more like “Is that sharp shooting pain actually something tearing? Is that normal? Should I be on the verge of tears? Collapse?” And it’s always the hamstrings, or my hips, or sometimes my back. But the most excruciating pain is in the hamstrings. And we use them for almost every pose.
We did have one pose that we held for a little over five minutes. Sphinx pose. It doesn’t involve your hamstrings. It’s a small back bend. But after about 2 minutes I started to burn a little… after 3 I hurt… after 4 I began talking myself into coming out of the pose. And somewhere around five I began begging and bargaining in my mind to for the love of god let us out of the pose. When we finally came down I almost cried with joy. My arms and shoulders were aching. Our teacher tells us to think about the sensations we feel and notice if any are interesting. That’s her word for painful.
As in “Ah this root canal feels interesting.”
Mmm hmm. Sadist.
Because it’s widely acknowledged that two of the toughest poses are Savasana and Tadasana. For those of you not familiar with yoga speak that’s laying on your back and standing up strait. Getting the full benefits of these poses is tough. Mmm hmm. This is humbling stuff.
Right… I had yoga yesterday. It was the usual. I worked really hard, had a few moments when I started to beg to come out of position and laughed when someone said they couldn’t feel something in their hamstrings.
I can always feel something in my hamstrings. My hamstrings are so tight, I chronically worry about them during class. Not so much “Will I be able to stretch them enough…” I won’t but more like “Is that sharp shooting pain actually something tearing? Is that normal? Should I be on the verge of tears? Collapse?” And it’s always the hamstrings, or my hips, or sometimes my back. But the most excruciating pain is in the hamstrings. And we use them for almost every pose.
We did have one pose that we held for a little over five minutes. Sphinx pose. It doesn’t involve your hamstrings. It’s a small back bend. But after about 2 minutes I started to burn a little… after 3 I hurt… after 4 I began talking myself into coming out of the pose. And somewhere around five I began begging and bargaining in my mind to for the love of god let us out of the pose. When we finally came down I almost cried with joy. My arms and shoulders were aching. Our teacher tells us to think about the sensations we feel and notice if any are interesting. That’s her word for painful.
As in “Ah this root canal feels interesting.”
Mmm hmm. Sadist.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Fear and yoga in Jamaica Plain...
So yoga… one of the healthiest things that has ever happened to me. Yoga has given me strength, balance, confidence, calm, acceptance… forgiveness and most importantly humility.
Before practicing yoga, I was terrified of yoga. I’m not a fit person, I’m not a flexible person. I’m not a person comfortable in tight pants and tank tops. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I would advance, I wouldn’t balance. Each pose would be to difficult. Each position would roll my flab into new exotic shapes. This was my fear.
I have a co-worker… Soap Opera Shane. (SOS) who lives in JP and practices yoga. Just like me. It was my cronic fear that I would see SOS in my yoga class. That one day he would show up. He’d been doing yoga for years. This would be the worst case scenario.
The first day went to yoga and was asked to go into downward dog… something kinking terribly in my shoulder. It was freakish. It was my body’s way of freaking out. And my mind followed. I sat down and tried not to cry. When the teacher came over to ask what was wrong all of the self doubt bubbled out of me and I left the class… It was just that scary. The next week I decided to face my fears, decided my shoulder spasm was just freakish, and I would try again. This time in the most beginner class of all. I loved it.
I’ve come a long way since those first classes. I’m actually starting appreciate my body’s abilities instead of focusing on it’s flaws. Although I still focus on the flaws too much. I’ve come to love difficult poses that I have yet to master. I’ve come to enjoy breathing.
Last week I came into yoga and was talking about our office Diwali Party. All of a sudden I hear “Kate”. I turned with a complete lake of focus. I never thought about the voice or who it might be… I turned and smiled and saw Soap Opera Shane. We’ll blow me over with a feather. Just when I thought I’d lost my fear of yoga. I smiled and commented that he missed our Diwali and went to set up my mat with that shocked smile frozen on my face.
Panic intensified as I realized the only open space was somewhat across the room from him. We’d have to see each other twisting, contorting, practicing yoga… I steeled myself and said… it’s okay. You’re doing fine. You are doing the best you can do, and your improving. This is going to be fun. Think of the stories you’ll have to tell in work. You’ll do fine. And then he moved his mat to be on the same side as me two people down. Suddenly I was disappointed. I wouldn’t have moved. I would have gotten over it. It’s yoga, its about focus. But this way I watched him without him noticing me. I watched the teacher correct him. Watched his handstand, his downward dog, his lunges, Warrior one, Upward Dog… And he was very good. He’d been doing it for years.
After class he asked me how I liked it. I stared blankly at him wondering what he could possibly mean by that. How did I like practicing yoga with a coworker? How did I like yoga?
The class? He clarified.
Oh right, the class, it’s been great I said, really great, I’ve been coming here Tuesdays and Thursdays for 4 months.
He looked surprised. Really?
Sure.
You must have been surprised to see me! He joked.
I smiled. Right. I was surprised to see him and I was glad that it happened. I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. And I had a great story to tell my co-workes.
Before practicing yoga, I was terrified of yoga. I’m not a fit person, I’m not a flexible person. I’m not a person comfortable in tight pants and tank tops. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to keep up. I would advance, I wouldn’t balance. Each pose would be to difficult. Each position would roll my flab into new exotic shapes. This was my fear.
I have a co-worker… Soap Opera Shane. (SOS) who lives in JP and practices yoga. Just like me. It was my cronic fear that I would see SOS in my yoga class. That one day he would show up. He’d been doing yoga for years. This would be the worst case scenario.
The first day went to yoga and was asked to go into downward dog… something kinking terribly in my shoulder. It was freakish. It was my body’s way of freaking out. And my mind followed. I sat down and tried not to cry. When the teacher came over to ask what was wrong all of the self doubt bubbled out of me and I left the class… It was just that scary. The next week I decided to face my fears, decided my shoulder spasm was just freakish, and I would try again. This time in the most beginner class of all. I loved it.
I’ve come a long way since those first classes. I’m actually starting appreciate my body’s abilities instead of focusing on it’s flaws. Although I still focus on the flaws too much. I’ve come to love difficult poses that I have yet to master. I’ve come to enjoy breathing.
Last week I came into yoga and was talking about our office Diwali Party. All of a sudden I hear “Kate”. I turned with a complete lake of focus. I never thought about the voice or who it might be… I turned and smiled and saw Soap Opera Shane. We’ll blow me over with a feather. Just when I thought I’d lost my fear of yoga. I smiled and commented that he missed our Diwali and went to set up my mat with that shocked smile frozen on my face.
Panic intensified as I realized the only open space was somewhat across the room from him. We’d have to see each other twisting, contorting, practicing yoga… I steeled myself and said… it’s okay. You’re doing fine. You are doing the best you can do, and your improving. This is going to be fun. Think of the stories you’ll have to tell in work. You’ll do fine. And then he moved his mat to be on the same side as me two people down. Suddenly I was disappointed. I wouldn’t have moved. I would have gotten over it. It’s yoga, its about focus. But this way I watched him without him noticing me. I watched the teacher correct him. Watched his handstand, his downward dog, his lunges, Warrior one, Upward Dog… And he was very good. He’d been doing it for years.
After class he asked me how I liked it. I stared blankly at him wondering what he could possibly mean by that. How did I like practicing yoga with a coworker? How did I like yoga?
The class? He clarified.
Oh right, the class, it’s been great I said, really great, I’ve been coming here Tuesdays and Thursdays for 4 months.
He looked surprised. Really?
Sure.
You must have been surprised to see me! He joked.
I smiled. Right. I was surprised to see him and I was glad that it happened. I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. And I had a great story to tell my co-workes.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions
Last night I dreamt that all Long Warf had been converted into a submarine dock. And the military was sending subs in and out of the Harbor… The ferries were gone and the subs were moving so fast, too fast. I was afraid they’d crash into the docks. Sometimes they would slow down or go under and you got the feeling that they were diving under the city.
Then there was a talking cat. The cat was really a teenage boy that went missing 14 years before. He was under some sort of spell, and he needed to get back to his old apartment to find something to break the spell. So we decided to help him. There was a moment when we needed to find the key to his apartment and I knew to look in this metal mail slot for a magnetic panel that revealed a key. We walked up two tall flights for stairs, sneaking quietly into his apartment.
It was this amazing loft apartment build into a church. How I didn’t realize it was church before was beyond me. It was beautiful. His parents had died when he was 15 some sort of accident. And that’s when I did the math, this cat disappeared about 15 years ago when he was about 16 he’d be about my age. Hmmm… this could be interesting.
And then I woke up.
I did this drawing a few weeks ago. The words were genie, tropical, restaurant, dreaming, and believe it or not lamp. This is what I came up with. I wanted there to be a difference in color between dream in reality… of course the dream is in a little more in the real colors, and the reality is very dreamlike in color.
Then there was a talking cat. The cat was really a teenage boy that went missing 14 years before. He was under some sort of spell, and he needed to get back to his old apartment to find something to break the spell. So we decided to help him. There was a moment when we needed to find the key to his apartment and I knew to look in this metal mail slot for a magnetic panel that revealed a key. We walked up two tall flights for stairs, sneaking quietly into his apartment.
It was this amazing loft apartment build into a church. How I didn’t realize it was church before was beyond me. It was beautiful. His parents had died when he was 15 some sort of accident. And that’s when I did the math, this cat disappeared about 15 years ago when he was about 16 he’d be about my age. Hmmm… this could be interesting.
And then I woke up.
I did this drawing a few weeks ago. The words were genie, tropical, restaurant, dreaming, and believe it or not lamp. This is what I came up with. I wanted there to be a difference in color between dream in reality… of course the dream is in a little more in the real colors, and the reality is very dreamlike in color.
Friday, November 09, 2007
I miss my readers...
What do I expect after not blogging for years. I pick it up again and I don't have any readers. I never had many readers. But I always had a few. It gave me someone to write to. Right now this feels so lonely.
But maybe thats good.
Maybe I should always have kept this blog just for me.
Or maybe I should write as if I had thousands of readers hanging on very word I post. Well, they'd be sadly dissapointed.
Maybe I shouldn't think of it at all.
I should post about my ideas for Zelda Zap galactic space girl. Or the book Fran and I never wrote, about the Rabbit whose heart flies away...
I'm going to try to finish a picture every week. And I'll try to post that. Sometimes I won't post it. It might be a Halloween card for next year or something of that nature. But I'll try to make that a goal.
But maybe thats good.
Maybe I should always have kept this blog just for me.
Or maybe I should write as if I had thousands of readers hanging on very word I post. Well, they'd be sadly dissapointed.
Maybe I shouldn't think of it at all.
I should post about my ideas for Zelda Zap galactic space girl. Or the book Fran and I never wrote, about the Rabbit whose heart flies away...
I'm going to try to finish a picture every week. And I'll try to post that. Sometimes I won't post it. It might be a Halloween card for next year or something of that nature. But I'll try to make that a goal.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Happy Diwali
If you are a fan of the TV show The Office, you might remember the “Diwali Song”
This is sung to the tune of Adam Sandler’s Chanukah Song
The Diwali Song
It's time to celebrate Diwali
Everybody looks so jolly
But it's not Christmas, it's Diwali
The goddess of destruction, Kali
Stopped by to celebrate Diwali
Don't invite any zombies
To our celebration of Diwali
Along came Polly
To have some fun on Diwali
If you're Indian and you love to party
Have a happy happy happy happy Diwali
Happy Diwali!
That’s right everyone, it’s Diwali! The Hindu Festival of lights! The New Year!
I have two Indian co-workers who celebrate Diwali. Last year one of them was upset that no one acknowledged their favorite holiday. She was upset that she never got home for her favorite festival and wanted to share it with the office. Thus our office Diwali celebration was initiated. Last year we ordered in, and had snacks and a few decoration. It was very pleasant. Everyone had fun… it was great. And for a moment I felt like we had helped my coworker feel like her culture and customs were appreciated and important, and relevant even here in the US.
So this year I wanted to step it up a bit. We went out for lunch and I decorated the kitchen. With great hangings swaths of fabric. And I built a (I hesitate to say shrine) but I covered the hideous desk and bulletin board. There was food, snacks, sweets, piles of food. Delicious food, food I remembered from the last year. These spicy fried wheat crackers that I love. And mini samosas filled with cashews and raisins. Syrupy sweets drenched in coconut and rose flavors. And everything looked good, and tasted good.
My coworker was shocked. And while perhaps my decorations weren’t quite proper. Maybe they didn’t fit the Indian ideal. In my defense I did the best I could with my limited knowledge of Diwali. I think I accomplished my goal. Which was to try to give her a real sense of celebration… at least in its office form.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Creepy Tree...
I think the words for this picture were: Mountain, Fairy, Tree, Holding and Love/Hate Relationship.
I drew this a while back and on Hadley’s suggestion I decided to go color. It’s the sketch book she gave me about a year and a half ago, and I decided to go with watercolor on it’s drawing paper. So the paper doesn’t exactly hold up to watercolor. But I like the effect. In fact I’m working on a series of images in this sketchbook. I just need to make time to do that.
Is there a story? I don’t know. I guess the tree loves the fairy, she wants to get the hell away from the tree and it all happened in the fall. Because I like red and yellow and orange. I do find the tree incredibly creepy.
I notice I keep to this same weird pastel color scheme. I have to work on breaking out of that. And not relying on yellow to balance things or to make me happy.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
The phoenix...
So the phoenix rose up from the ashes on All Hallows Eve and flew throught the night.
I mean, this was my Halloween costume, the pictures don't do it justice. It looked great. The mailman told me so this morning.
I mean, this was my Halloween costume, the pictures don't do it justice. It looked great. The mailman told me so this morning.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
This is Halloween!
Happy Halloween Everybody!
This is an drawing I did using my words. I liked the way it turned out though and decided to use it as my Halloween E-card this year too. The words were Vampire, Pop Art, Castle, and Pouring.
I'm at work dressed as a phoenix, but not Jean Grey. And I managed to convince two other women to dress up too. One is a Lady Bug and the other is a Geisha. It's actually pretty cool, they both look adorable. Maybe next year we can have a costume party.
Anyway... Happy Halloween Everyone!
This is an drawing I did using my words. I liked the way it turned out though and decided to use it as my Halloween E-card this year too. The words were Vampire, Pop Art, Castle, and Pouring.
I'm at work dressed as a phoenix, but not Jean Grey. And I managed to convince two other women to dress up too. One is a Lady Bug and the other is a Geisha. It's actually pretty cool, they both look adorable. Maybe next year we can have a costume party.
Anyway... Happy Halloween Everyone!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
It’s not a field… it’s purgatory.
Last night I was told I need to get out of my field, meaning my line of work. I told them it’s not a field… it’s purgatory.
Oh sure I put on a brave face, I opening joke and smile about my troubles. I pretend to have some sort of meaning, and convictions. These are my daily delusions. They get me through my more pathetic moments... the moments that I look at my life and start to think about how badly I am failing this test. I need these justifications and delusions. I need them to keep going. I need them to stave off the depression that would engulf me if I actually looked at life in the buff and saw it for what it is. If I saw all of my shortcomings at once, I’d never get out of bed again.
So please forgive me for not knowing what I want to do with my life. That decision doesn’t come easy for all of us.
And forgive me if I try to figure it out by making clothes, and drawing and painting, and dressing up for Halloween and indulging my creative side. The epiphany? It’s still there. I won’t be happy until I’m doing something with my hands. I need to make a physical product. That’s the rule. That’s all I’ve got, handed down from the heavenly ether to me.
Perhaps you know what that means, and how to implement it. Perhaps you know how to make a golf skort design marketable to the world, and who can manufacture it, and how to promote it. Because I have a great little design for cute skort, but I don’t know what to do with it except to wear it golfing.
Maybe you’ve never been stared down by a blank piece of paper. You might not know what that’s like, to be defeated by a blank piece of paper. To look at it, command yourself to make something of it and break. Such a simple unimportant task and you fail at it. Maybe this has never happened to you, buts it’s happened to me. And it doesn’t feel good. If I tell you about my words, (yes I’ve taken up drawing form my words again) please don’t dismiss it, it’s a big step for me towards getting over my fear of the blank page.
Yes, I know I’m failing. I’m more disappointed in me than you are. Trust me.
I just think at this point I need to hang on for dear life. I’m just trying to get through this. I know it’s not working, but I’m still trying, I’m still going. Despite failures and set backs, I dust of my sketchbooks after years of neglect and I put pencil to paper and try again. So please understand how scary that blank page can be when you’ve avoided it for months. And please give me a little credit for putting something down on it. When that blank page glares at you and you’re able to put anything down on it… good for you. That’s one monster down a sketchbook more to go.
Oh sure I put on a brave face, I opening joke and smile about my troubles. I pretend to have some sort of meaning, and convictions. These are my daily delusions. They get me through my more pathetic moments... the moments that I look at my life and start to think about how badly I am failing this test. I need these justifications and delusions. I need them to keep going. I need them to stave off the depression that would engulf me if I actually looked at life in the buff and saw it for what it is. If I saw all of my shortcomings at once, I’d never get out of bed again.
So please forgive me for not knowing what I want to do with my life. That decision doesn’t come easy for all of us.
And forgive me if I try to figure it out by making clothes, and drawing and painting, and dressing up for Halloween and indulging my creative side. The epiphany? It’s still there. I won’t be happy until I’m doing something with my hands. I need to make a physical product. That’s the rule. That’s all I’ve got, handed down from the heavenly ether to me.
Perhaps you know what that means, and how to implement it. Perhaps you know how to make a golf skort design marketable to the world, and who can manufacture it, and how to promote it. Because I have a great little design for cute skort, but I don’t know what to do with it except to wear it golfing.
Maybe you’ve never been stared down by a blank piece of paper. You might not know what that’s like, to be defeated by a blank piece of paper. To look at it, command yourself to make something of it and break. Such a simple unimportant task and you fail at it. Maybe this has never happened to you, buts it’s happened to me. And it doesn’t feel good. If I tell you about my words, (yes I’ve taken up drawing form my words again) please don’t dismiss it, it’s a big step for me towards getting over my fear of the blank page.
Yes, I know I’m failing. I’m more disappointed in me than you are. Trust me.
I just think at this point I need to hang on for dear life. I’m just trying to get through this. I know it’s not working, but I’m still trying, I’m still going. Despite failures and set backs, I dust of my sketchbooks after years of neglect and I put pencil to paper and try again. So please understand how scary that blank page can be when you’ve avoided it for months. And please give me a little credit for putting something down on it. When that blank page glares at you and you’re able to put anything down on it… good for you. That’s one monster down a sketchbook more to go.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Hiredish...
I may or may not have been hired today. That is I’m 70% sure that after count them 22 months (give or take a day or two) I may be hired. You see I don’t have a timeframe on my alleged hiring. I didn’t ask. After 374 days of actual temping (574 days if you include weekends and holidays – holidays unpaid) you learn not to ask questions. Its depressing to ask questions.
I was told over lunch, that my boss would speak to his boss, and recommend hiring me full time. So I think that means I’m hired. However, I was told that I need to work harder, and focus more energy into working. Which is why I’m blogging this right now. Hmmm…
So I’m not sure whether I should celebrate just yet. I don’t know when any of this happens. I was pleasantly surprised by this turn of event. But I’m afraid too.
It’s like they say, the closer you come to being rescued the more frightened you are that something will go wrong and they’ll fail. I feel that way.
I was told over lunch, that my boss would speak to his boss, and recommend hiring me full time. So I think that means I’m hired. However, I was told that I need to work harder, and focus more energy into working. Which is why I’m blogging this right now. Hmmm…
So I’m not sure whether I should celebrate just yet. I don’t know when any of this happens. I was pleasantly surprised by this turn of event. But I’m afraid too.
It’s like they say, the closer you come to being rescued the more frightened you are that something will go wrong and they’ll fail. I feel that way.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Somethings stay the same...
I don't know somewhere along the 22 years from then till now, and I mean from 10 to 32 I thought I'd changed. Maybe grew up a bit. Maybe changed. But what have I been doing lately, what have I been obsessing over lately... doing handstands. What have I been talking about lately? Original My Little Ponies.
And when I tried on this wig and snapped a picture with my cell phone. It snapped me right back to my youth. To being ten. Have I even changed at all?
For example me.
And when I tried on this wig and snapped a picture with my cell phone. It snapped me right back to my youth. To being ten. Have I even changed at all?
For example me.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Hope for the future!
Seriously folks, I have hope for the future.
Hope came to me yesterday in the form of a handstand. That’s right kids, a handstand, a genuine handstand against a wall. I kicked up and I stayed. And I stayed. And when I was done I gently came down.
Now I’ve been working on handstands for weeks, for months really if you count class. I wouldn’t because my efforts have been so half hearted there. It just seamed so unobtainable. Honestly I was having a hard time believing I could do it. In fact I still have a hard time believing. And fear is definitely a factor. Still. I’m terrified. But it’s so damn cool! And so unexpected. And so unlike my body to be able to do something like that. It’s kind of crazy sexy cool!
And it gives me hope.
In yoga, at the end of practice they always tell you to thank your body, for its hard work, for committing to this practice. I don’t say it enough. I don’t appreciate it enough. I don’t marvel at it enough. I’m a lousy friend to my body sometimes, I’m the friend who criticizes, and complains about you, who abuses you and expects too much from you.
So I just want to say thank you to my body, for doing something so amazing.
Thank you for letting me see that there is still hope. That a body like mine is still amazing, still wonderful, still unexpectedly capable. Thank you for fighting the good fight, for helping me balance, for kicking up there. And a special shout out to my arms and hands for supporting the entire weight of my body, without letting me crash onto my head, breaking my neck etc. I really appreciate it.
Hope came to me yesterday in the form of a handstand. That’s right kids, a handstand, a genuine handstand against a wall. I kicked up and I stayed. And I stayed. And when I was done I gently came down.
Now I’ve been working on handstands for weeks, for months really if you count class. I wouldn’t because my efforts have been so half hearted there. It just seamed so unobtainable. Honestly I was having a hard time believing I could do it. In fact I still have a hard time believing. And fear is definitely a factor. Still. I’m terrified. But it’s so damn cool! And so unexpected. And so unlike my body to be able to do something like that. It’s kind of crazy sexy cool!
And it gives me hope.
In yoga, at the end of practice they always tell you to thank your body, for its hard work, for committing to this practice. I don’t say it enough. I don’t appreciate it enough. I don’t marvel at it enough. I’m a lousy friend to my body sometimes, I’m the friend who criticizes, and complains about you, who abuses you and expects too much from you.
So I just want to say thank you to my body, for doing something so amazing.
Thank you for letting me see that there is still hope. That a body like mine is still amazing, still wonderful, still unexpectedly capable. Thank you for fighting the good fight, for helping me balance, for kicking up there. And a special shout out to my arms and hands for supporting the entire weight of my body, without letting me crash onto my head, breaking my neck etc. I really appreciate it.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Dear Dad
Dear Dad,
Another year another day. Not much changed. Same old job, same old song and dance, and I get by on a wing a prayer. Not to say things are all bad or that no good has come this year. I haven’t been very productive lately. I fee worn out. I know I know these things happen, I do the best I can. That should be enough. I’m supposed to start yoga tomorrow. Maybe that will help.
I thought of you the other day, these thoughts seem to grow more distant, more personal, sweeter or sometimes funnier when they happen. My world is a little colder without your unconditional love. I warm myself on these memories.
Someone mentioned their father would pick them up at the airport, and would probably park and come in. And I thought you’d do that. You’d come and pick me up from the airport. You’d park and maybe buy a coffee or something. You’d do it because you were relaxed and laid back and would think why not enjoy a trip to the airport. And you’d do it because you loved me. I miss that. Although mom has become sentimental and now parks to pick people up from the airport.
I miss you, and wonder what you would think of all the political hoopla. Who would win your vote, are you a Hilary fan or Obama? What would you think of global warming, Al Gore and the state of the union? Would you be as liberal as I hope? Perhaps not. But we would talk about all of it.
And Chardy. You’d be so proud of him. Chardy, embodies so much of your spirit, of the Shea spirit, of our spirit. I live vicariously through their family. He loves his kid as you did. He’s a big marshmallow for them. Caryn is so wonderful, so fierce and loving, and smart and competitive.
I’ve discovered a new love. Del Toro. Pan’s Labyrinth and The Devil’s Backbone hit me in the way that only a good catholic director could. I wonder if you’d like them. So beautiful and violent, terrifying, poignant, and rare, would you like them? Would they go too far you? I don’t know. I think you’d enjoy them. Especially Pan’s Labyrinth
Brian is Brian, we communicate through a series of notes about movies and Sox conversations. It’s a subtle form of communication but it will suffice until we find more common ground. It bridges the love that is there.
You’d be so proud of Beth. Back to school she goes, fighting the workforce. It’s hard for us. But we do our best. She is so incredibly compassionate, and so strikingly intelligent. We spend hours complimenting each other on our common sense and the disbelief that the people around us aren’t more alarmed by the goings on of the world. History has become our greatest ally, much to my own chagrin. I can see you smile at that.
Mom has retired and is as busy as ever. I think she misses you more now. This was supposed to be your time together. You’d be down the Cape by now reading on the beach. Maybe the two of you would travel, see the world. Italy perhaps? France? I can see it in my mind. Mom’s a little upset that I’ll be taking the road trip with Beth this summer. But I needed it more than she did. And Beth is and forever will be my best friend. Mom will get her chance too.
So my dear father, I leave things much the same. A spark of hope, a twinkle of luck and a heavy dash of cynicism. I love you. I miss you. And I try to appreciate this big shiny world on your behalf. I’m sure life is wasted on the living and I’ll try to sit back and enjoy the view now and again.
Happy Birthday Dad!
Your loving daughter,
Kate
Another year another day. Not much changed. Same old job, same old song and dance, and I get by on a wing a prayer. Not to say things are all bad or that no good has come this year. I haven’t been very productive lately. I fee worn out. I know I know these things happen, I do the best I can. That should be enough. I’m supposed to start yoga tomorrow. Maybe that will help.
I thought of you the other day, these thoughts seem to grow more distant, more personal, sweeter or sometimes funnier when they happen. My world is a little colder without your unconditional love. I warm myself on these memories.
Someone mentioned their father would pick them up at the airport, and would probably park and come in. And I thought you’d do that. You’d come and pick me up from the airport. You’d park and maybe buy a coffee or something. You’d do it because you were relaxed and laid back and would think why not enjoy a trip to the airport. And you’d do it because you loved me. I miss that. Although mom has become sentimental and now parks to pick people up from the airport.
I miss you, and wonder what you would think of all the political hoopla. Who would win your vote, are you a Hilary fan or Obama? What would you think of global warming, Al Gore and the state of the union? Would you be as liberal as I hope? Perhaps not. But we would talk about all of it.
And Chardy. You’d be so proud of him. Chardy, embodies so much of your spirit, of the Shea spirit, of our spirit. I live vicariously through their family. He loves his kid as you did. He’s a big marshmallow for them. Caryn is so wonderful, so fierce and loving, and smart and competitive.
I’ve discovered a new love. Del Toro. Pan’s Labyrinth and The Devil’s Backbone hit me in the way that only a good catholic director could. I wonder if you’d like them. So beautiful and violent, terrifying, poignant, and rare, would you like them? Would they go too far you? I don’t know. I think you’d enjoy them. Especially Pan’s Labyrinth
Brian is Brian, we communicate through a series of notes about movies and Sox conversations. It’s a subtle form of communication but it will suffice until we find more common ground. It bridges the love that is there.
You’d be so proud of Beth. Back to school she goes, fighting the workforce. It’s hard for us. But we do our best. She is so incredibly compassionate, and so strikingly intelligent. We spend hours complimenting each other on our common sense and the disbelief that the people around us aren’t more alarmed by the goings on of the world. History has become our greatest ally, much to my own chagrin. I can see you smile at that.
Mom has retired and is as busy as ever. I think she misses you more now. This was supposed to be your time together. You’d be down the Cape by now reading on the beach. Maybe the two of you would travel, see the world. Italy perhaps? France? I can see it in my mind. Mom’s a little upset that I’ll be taking the road trip with Beth this summer. But I needed it more than she did. And Beth is and forever will be my best friend. Mom will get her chance too.
So my dear father, I leave things much the same. A spark of hope, a twinkle of luck and a heavy dash of cynicism. I love you. I miss you. And I try to appreciate this big shiny world on your behalf. I’m sure life is wasted on the living and I’ll try to sit back and enjoy the view now and again.
Happy Birthday Dad!
Your loving daughter,
Kate
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Best Sandwich I'd Never Heard of...
Sometimes I like to be adventurous with food because, I'm bored or curious. Well I had a pressed sandwich today that was bresaola and fontina.
BRESAOLA AND FONTINA
smoked bresaola and fontina with basil and a touch of
truffle oil on country white.
And I ordered it because I'd never heard of bresaola or fontina. I figured one was meat and one was cheese but I really wanted that truffle oil on my sandwich. Most of the other sandwiches had vinager or goat cheese or something I didn't like.
Bresaola it turns out tastes like a mix of prosciutto and roast beef. It's dry and salty but tender and quite tasty. Fontina is a slightly sweet nutty hard cheese that melts well. And truffle oil, which I don't know that I've ever had is just heavenly. I wanted just bread and truffle oil after that... toast with truffle oil spread across it like butter. I wanted it in my hand lotion. I wanted to bathe in it.
I kept smelling my napkin that had some oil on it just savoring the scent. It was like... nothing I had ever smelled. It defied description. It didn't smell musty or mushroomy. It smelled... elusive. They say it's aphrodiasiac. I can understand why.
BRESAOLA AND FONTINA
smoked bresaola and fontina with basil and a touch of
truffle oil on country white.
And I ordered it because I'd never heard of bresaola or fontina. I figured one was meat and one was cheese but I really wanted that truffle oil on my sandwich. Most of the other sandwiches had vinager or goat cheese or something I didn't like.
Bresaola it turns out tastes like a mix of prosciutto and roast beef. It's dry and salty but tender and quite tasty. Fontina is a slightly sweet nutty hard cheese that melts well. And truffle oil, which I don't know that I've ever had is just heavenly. I wanted just bread and truffle oil after that... toast with truffle oil spread across it like butter. I wanted it in my hand lotion. I wanted to bathe in it.
I kept smelling my napkin that had some oil on it just savoring the scent. It was like... nothing I had ever smelled. It defied description. It didn't smell musty or mushroomy. It smelled... elusive. They say it's aphrodiasiac. I can understand why.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Waiting for that moment
Over the years I’ve learned a few things about myself, and although I do learn… there are lessons I feel doomed to repeat each year, especially around Christmas.
I know myself. I know my overly ambitious plans, I know how I work. I come up with ideas about hand crafting mountains of presents, and clever ways to wrap them, and run out of time every year. My plans are always big, pie in sky dreams, beautiful dreams. Generous in nature, ambitious in scale… these dreams warm me though the lengthening nights.
And every year somewhere along the way it happens. Maybe it’s the 20th, the 22nd, or even the 24th …. Somewhere along the way you can find me sitting on the floor at 3am the remnants of my broken dreams strewn about me. That’s when I say “No more.” What ever is done is done. Whatever isn’t won’t be. I can do no more.
What should be a sad moment, a moment of defeat really, a moment of failure sometimes on a spectacular scale… might be one of my favorite moments. It’s the moment I let go.
In that moment I realize somehow everything will be okay. I’ve done enough. This wasn’t my fault. I did my best and really, I did more than I thought I could. My eyes were bigger than my stomach. I can relax. It’s enough.
In the wee hours of the night, so peaceful… so lovely finally I’ll sleep a fitful sleep. The next morning I’ll still try to get more done. But it won’t be as urgent, as frantic. My plans will be more flexible, my schedule less daunting.
So right now, as look at my plate piled a mile high, I think to myself don’t worry, that moment will come. Reality will force itself into my plans but it will be pleasant. .. because it’s the season to be joyful.
I know myself. I know my overly ambitious plans, I know how I work. I come up with ideas about hand crafting mountains of presents, and clever ways to wrap them, and run out of time every year. My plans are always big, pie in sky dreams, beautiful dreams. Generous in nature, ambitious in scale… these dreams warm me though the lengthening nights.
And every year somewhere along the way it happens. Maybe it’s the 20th, the 22nd, or even the 24th …. Somewhere along the way you can find me sitting on the floor at 3am the remnants of my broken dreams strewn about me. That’s when I say “No more.” What ever is done is done. Whatever isn’t won’t be. I can do no more.
What should be a sad moment, a moment of defeat really, a moment of failure sometimes on a spectacular scale… might be one of my favorite moments. It’s the moment I let go.
In that moment I realize somehow everything will be okay. I’ve done enough. This wasn’t my fault. I did my best and really, I did more than I thought I could. My eyes were bigger than my stomach. I can relax. It’s enough.
In the wee hours of the night, so peaceful… so lovely finally I’ll sleep a fitful sleep. The next morning I’ll still try to get more done. But it won’t be as urgent, as frantic. My plans will be more flexible, my schedule less daunting.
So right now, as look at my plate piled a mile high, I think to myself don’t worry, that moment will come. Reality will force itself into my plans but it will be pleasant. .. because it’s the season to be joyful.
Friday, October 06, 2006
70 things I chose to resopnd to...
Got this from Hadley...
[1] What is your middle name?
Elizabeth
[2]What color is your mailbox?
Brass, it’s a mail slot
[3] What color shirt are you wearing?
Off white with orange and purple flowers
[4] Have you ever hit a deer?
Not yet
[5] Do you have to drive over a bridge to get home?
No
[6]Do you get the paper delivered to your house in the morning?
No. I the metro on the train
[7] Who checks the mail in your house?
Me I live alone
[8] Do you have a small driveway?
No my house shares two driveways, both are pretty big.
[9] Do you know anyone with the same ringtone as you?
No… on this phone I programmed my own. So I took some strange snippets of musid.
[10] What do you do first in the morning?
Open my eyes.
[11] What brand is your printer?
Canon. Bad luck with Epsons.
[12] Do you enjoy fighting with people?
Sometimes. I mean, generally no. But I’ve been known to argue with people I have crushes on.
[13]Is your hair naturally straight or curly?
Wavy and frizzy. Not straight, not curly.
[14] Who was your kindergarten teacher(s)?
Eileen Riopell
[16] Are you taller than your mother?
I wish. But she’ll shrink.
[17] Do you have a favorite word?
Summer
[18] Are you God?
Nope
[19] What do you do to get over a broken heart?
Deny that I’m hurt
[20] Do you have a deep, dark secret?
Several.
[22] Do you enjoy writing in colored pens?
Yes they are pretty
[23] Does anything hurt on your body right now?
My eyes…
[24] Do you often cry during a movie?
Yup… I used to not cry but now I’m a mess. Watch the end of It’s a wonderful life with me. Or oddly Cool Running. But that has to do with Stone Fox.
[25] Do you hate your life?
Often
[26] Do you get mad easily?
I can go from 0-60 in a half a second, but then I can have the patience of a saint. It depends.
[27] Do you drink?
Often… heavily.
[28] What is your biggest pet peeve?
People who call you, when you answer “Hello?” you get nothing “Hello???” nothing and then suddenly they say “Hello!” and they sound all annoyed as if you called them.
[29] What is your away message?
Away away away away….
[30] Do any of your friends have kids?
Yes. But not many.
[32] Who should pay on the first date?
Whoever asked the other out. If it was a joint decision, then things should be split.
[33] How many years older than you are you willing to date?
Um 12 years older 5 years younger so I’m 31 that’s 25-43. And I wouldn’t date most 43 year olds but… I keep my options open.
[34] Do you have any friends?
Sure
[35] Do you have any mean friends?
Hell yes. We call her Evil.
[36] What is the ugliest color in your opinion?
Purple
[37] Have you ever liked someone who all your friends couldn't stand?
Yes, and they were right.
[38] Have you ever felt like driving off a cliff?
I’m afraid of heights.
[39] Have you ever been fired from a job?
Have I ever not been fired.
[40] In what year was your first love?
It was 7th grade. He didn’t know I was alive….
[41] Do you have a cell?
My only phone2] What brand are the pant/jeans you're wearing right now?
No Idea
[42] How tall are you?
5’9”
[44] What is the closest green object?
The gum I’m chewing
[45] What is on your feet?
Flip Flops, yes I know it’s October
[46] Do you like watermelon?
Not my favorite, but home grown is quite good..
[48] Do you want to have kids?
Maybe
[49] What is the brightest color you're wearing right now?
Orange
[50] Who is the friend you have that you would never expect?
Um… Linda I guess. I couldn’t anticipate her.
[53] Stupidest movie you ever saw?
Dick Tracy
[54] Do you collect comic books?
Nope
[55] Do you like your dad?
Very much.
[56] Do you have any TV shows on DVD?
Freaks and Geeks, Buffy Season Two, Cowboy Bebop, LOST.
[57] Are you wearing makeup?
Nope
[58] Do you have a tattoo?
Nope.
[59] Have you ever been happily in love?
Nope, unless you count my love of Johnny Depp. I mean it’s alittle one sided but very happy.
[60] If you won the lottery you would _______?
be rich.
[61.] Do you know how to draw?
Yup.
[63] Who is your hero?
Jim Henson, was a big hero of mine, Roald Dahl, Elizabeth Dowd (8th grade English teacher), my folks… Barbara Boxer, Santa Claus, the Country Bunny and Little Golden, Shoes, Dr. Suess, that woman who wrote “Everybody’s free to wear sunscreen”
[64] Who did you last IM?
Beth
[65.] Do you work a lot of hours?
8-5 every day. Then what ever else I do.
[66] What do you do when you are stressed out?
Sleep, snap at people, get sick.
[67] Who was the last person that called you?
My Mom. Her cable box is broken and I walked her through hooking the cable up to the VCR.
[68.] Is there anything you regret?
Mostly being afraid of things.
[69] Do you know where your family name originated from?
It’s Irish “Shea” from O’Shea meaning “from the fairy fort”
My whole name Katherine Elizabeth Shea means “Pure, oath of god, form the fairy fort”
[70] Is there an animal that creeps you out?
Birds. All of them except for penguins, ducks, geese, and other swimming birds.
[1] What is your middle name?
Elizabeth
[2]What color is your mailbox?
Brass, it’s a mail slot
[3] What color shirt are you wearing?
Off white with orange and purple flowers
[4] Have you ever hit a deer?
Not yet
[5] Do you have to drive over a bridge to get home?
No
[6]Do you get the paper delivered to your house in the morning?
No. I the metro on the train
[7] Who checks the mail in your house?
Me I live alone
[8] Do you have a small driveway?
No my house shares two driveways, both are pretty big.
[9] Do you know anyone with the same ringtone as you?
No… on this phone I programmed my own. So I took some strange snippets of musid.
[10] What do you do first in the morning?
Open my eyes.
[11] What brand is your printer?
Canon. Bad luck with Epsons.
[12] Do you enjoy fighting with people?
Sometimes. I mean, generally no. But I’ve been known to argue with people I have crushes on.
[13]Is your hair naturally straight or curly?
Wavy and frizzy. Not straight, not curly.
[14] Who was your kindergarten teacher(s)?
Eileen Riopell
[16] Are you taller than your mother?
I wish. But she’ll shrink.
[17] Do you have a favorite word?
Summer
[18] Are you God?
Nope
[19] What do you do to get over a broken heart?
Deny that I’m hurt
[20] Do you have a deep, dark secret?
Several.
[22] Do you enjoy writing in colored pens?
Yes they are pretty
[23] Does anything hurt on your body right now?
My eyes…
[24] Do you often cry during a movie?
Yup… I used to not cry but now I’m a mess. Watch the end of It’s a wonderful life with me. Or oddly Cool Running. But that has to do with Stone Fox.
[25] Do you hate your life?
Often
[26] Do you get mad easily?
I can go from 0-60 in a half a second, but then I can have the patience of a saint. It depends.
[27] Do you drink?
Often… heavily.
[28] What is your biggest pet peeve?
People who call you, when you answer “Hello?” you get nothing “Hello???” nothing and then suddenly they say “Hello!” and they sound all annoyed as if you called them.
[29] What is your away message?
Away away away away….
[30] Do any of your friends have kids?
Yes. But not many.
[32] Who should pay on the first date?
Whoever asked the other out. If it was a joint decision, then things should be split.
[33] How many years older than you are you willing to date?
Um 12 years older 5 years younger so I’m 31 that’s 25-43. And I wouldn’t date most 43 year olds but… I keep my options open.
[34] Do you have any friends?
Sure
[35] Do you have any mean friends?
Hell yes. We call her Evil.
[36] What is the ugliest color in your opinion?
Purple
[37] Have you ever liked someone who all your friends couldn't stand?
Yes, and they were right.
[38] Have you ever felt like driving off a cliff?
I’m afraid of heights.
[39] Have you ever been fired from a job?
Have I ever not been fired.
[40] In what year was your first love?
It was 7th grade. He didn’t know I was alive….
[41] Do you have a cell?
My only phone2] What brand are the pant/jeans you're wearing right now?
No Idea
[42] How tall are you?
5’9”
[44] What is the closest green object?
The gum I’m chewing
[45] What is on your feet?
Flip Flops, yes I know it’s October
[46] Do you like watermelon?
Not my favorite, but home grown is quite good..
[48] Do you want to have kids?
Maybe
[49] What is the brightest color you're wearing right now?
Orange
[50] Who is the friend you have that you would never expect?
Um… Linda I guess. I couldn’t anticipate her.
[53] Stupidest movie you ever saw?
Dick Tracy
[54] Do you collect comic books?
Nope
[55] Do you like your dad?
Very much.
[56] Do you have any TV shows on DVD?
Freaks and Geeks, Buffy Season Two, Cowboy Bebop, LOST.
[57] Are you wearing makeup?
Nope
[58] Do you have a tattoo?
Nope.
[59] Have you ever been happily in love?
Nope, unless you count my love of Johnny Depp. I mean it’s alittle one sided but very happy.
[60] If you won the lottery you would _______?
be rich.
[61.] Do you know how to draw?
Yup.
[63] Who is your hero?
Jim Henson, was a big hero of mine, Roald Dahl, Elizabeth Dowd (8th grade English teacher), my folks… Barbara Boxer, Santa Claus, the Country Bunny and Little Golden, Shoes, Dr. Suess, that woman who wrote “Everybody’s free to wear sunscreen”
[64] Who did you last IM?
Beth
[65.] Do you work a lot of hours?
8-5 every day. Then what ever else I do.
[66] What do you do when you are stressed out?
Sleep, snap at people, get sick.
[67] Who was the last person that called you?
My Mom. Her cable box is broken and I walked her through hooking the cable up to the VCR.
[68.] Is there anything you regret?
Mostly being afraid of things.
[69] Do you know where your family name originated from?
It’s Irish “Shea” from O’Shea meaning “from the fairy fort”
My whole name Katherine Elizabeth Shea means “Pure, oath of god, form the fairy fort”
[70] Is there an animal that creeps you out?
Birds. All of them except for penguins, ducks, geese, and other swimming birds.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Five years ago, another staff meeting....
I have a staff meeting today.
Five years ago, in another building only a few blocks from here, I had a staff meeting on this day. Funny thing, it was on the 8th floor too. I had ordered food from Viga. But I won’t order food from Viga today.
Five years ago, a staff meeting got cancelled.
Five years ago Downtown Boston shut down. We weren’t evacuated we just left in a haze of confusion. I remember the gridlock traffic downtown. Nothing moving. Bumper to bumper. I remember the people standing on the street corners looking up at the sky. It felt apocalyptic. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone all day. Phone calls were made, friends were visited and a media blitz of images first seared into my mind then overwhelmed all senses.
Five years ago today, my cousin had a baby, his name is Ryan.
Five years ago today the weather was perfect. The sky was clear and blue the temperature… about 80.
Today is cold. I’m not dressed for the weather.
Five years ago today… September 11th.
Today I thought I’d have Falafel King instead of Viga. This was viewed as insensitive. I just wanted falafel.
Five years ago, in another building only a few blocks from here, I had a staff meeting on this day. Funny thing, it was on the 8th floor too. I had ordered food from Viga. But I won’t order food from Viga today.
Five years ago, a staff meeting got cancelled.
Five years ago Downtown Boston shut down. We weren’t evacuated we just left in a haze of confusion. I remember the gridlock traffic downtown. Nothing moving. Bumper to bumper. I remember the people standing on the street corners looking up at the sky. It felt apocalyptic. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t alone all day. Phone calls were made, friends were visited and a media blitz of images first seared into my mind then overwhelmed all senses.
Five years ago today, my cousin had a baby, his name is Ryan.
Five years ago today the weather was perfect. The sky was clear and blue the temperature… about 80.
Today is cold. I’m not dressed for the weather.
Five years ago today… September 11th.
Today I thought I’d have Falafel King instead of Viga. This was viewed as insensitive. I just wanted falafel.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Johnny, oh Johnny!
Right Fran… Pirates of the Caribbean II .
You all know I love Johnny, wait scratch that… You all know I adore, love, worship and lust after Johnny Depp. You all know that Captain Jack Sparrow is the stuff my dreams are made of… savvy?
But Part II of this trilogy left me begging the question “But why is the rum gone?”
Sequel syndrome my friends, it suffered from sequel syndrome. It left what wit, charm and plot it had behind and became obsessed with the action. Everything had to be bigger. It left the spectacular for the spectacle. Plot, character development, story, charisma and charm was thrown overboard. Effects, dizzying fight scenes, ridiculously complicated set up lead no where. With all of this it somehow left its swatches unbuckled. Oh and there wasn’t nearly enough rum.
Maybe I hadn’t had nearly enough rum…
It took the romance out of the seas. And it forced a romantic plotline where one needed to be lead, seductively down the path.
And the worst thing is I knew it form the preview alone.
I read a review somewhere that said they’ve taken what might be a decent 3 hour plot and bloated it to be a 5 hour movie split in two. And depending on how the 3rd film goes that might be true. But this was a long 2 ½ hours… and we haven’t seen where the arc ends.
And Johnny is lovely.
Captain Jack Sparrow is lovely.
He has much less to work with but is charming.
You all know I love Johnny, wait scratch that… You all know I adore, love, worship and lust after Johnny Depp. You all know that Captain Jack Sparrow is the stuff my dreams are made of… savvy?
But Part II of this trilogy left me begging the question “But why is the rum gone?”
Sequel syndrome my friends, it suffered from sequel syndrome. It left what wit, charm and plot it had behind and became obsessed with the action. Everything had to be bigger. It left the spectacular for the spectacle. Plot, character development, story, charisma and charm was thrown overboard. Effects, dizzying fight scenes, ridiculously complicated set up lead no where. With all of this it somehow left its swatches unbuckled. Oh and there wasn’t nearly enough rum.
Maybe I hadn’t had nearly enough rum…
It took the romance out of the seas. And it forced a romantic plotline where one needed to be lead, seductively down the path.
And the worst thing is I knew it form the preview alone.
I read a review somewhere that said they’ve taken what might be a decent 3 hour plot and bloated it to be a 5 hour movie split in two. And depending on how the 3rd film goes that might be true. But this was a long 2 ½ hours… and we haven’t seen where the arc ends.
And Johnny is lovely.
Captain Jack Sparrow is lovely.
He has much less to work with but is charming.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Geechie Wiley
Geechie Wiley was a fictional character to me.
Or at least I didn’t know she was real.
I had heard her mentioned in a story. It was about finding a rare Geechie Wiley album. I’m never sure about the line between fact and fiction... and in this case I thought maybe she wasn’t real.
That is until I bought an album from a subway musician named “Erin Harpe” who sang a song based off of Geechie Wiley. A name I couldn’t help but remember. And suddenly fiction came to life and I had the inside track on a story. I could hear a Geechie Wiley song. “Pick Poor Robin Clean”
Wait, let me explain something about that street musician. As far as subway musicians go she is my favorite, she’s the best I’ve ever heard. She sings the blues, but not just the blues, I’m talking old time depression era blues.
Every time I saw her I would search my pockets for cash and try to buy an album and every time I’d come up short. Until finally one day I had $10 and I bought an album. But I bought the wrong one. This one is great, it’s her band and they do a great job. But I wanted that soulful depression era blues that I heard on the subway.
So weeks later I scrounged up my crumpled ones, and $4 in quarters to by her original album. And there it was. “Pick Poor Robin Clean” - Geechie Wiley.
I felt my heart skip.
She’s real.
In that second I fell in love.
I fell in love with the idea of her. And then I heard Erin Harpe sing Pick Poor Robin Clean, and I knew what I had to do. The internet is a wonderful thing. I tracked down the faded, crackling Geechie Wiley and had a listen.
They are both brilliant.
I’m still in love with Erin Harpe, the greatest street musician I’ve had the privilege to listen to. And I’m still in love with Geechie Wiley who remains a mystery; she leaves a spotty trail of recording, but is real. Now I have the privilege of beginning to understand just how rare that album in the story was.
Or at least I didn’t know she was real.
I had heard her mentioned in a story. It was about finding a rare Geechie Wiley album. I’m never sure about the line between fact and fiction... and in this case I thought maybe she wasn’t real.
That is until I bought an album from a subway musician named “Erin Harpe” who sang a song based off of Geechie Wiley. A name I couldn’t help but remember. And suddenly fiction came to life and I had the inside track on a story. I could hear a Geechie Wiley song. “Pick Poor Robin Clean”
Wait, let me explain something about that street musician. As far as subway musicians go she is my favorite, she’s the best I’ve ever heard. She sings the blues, but not just the blues, I’m talking old time depression era blues.
Every time I saw her I would search my pockets for cash and try to buy an album and every time I’d come up short. Until finally one day I had $10 and I bought an album. But I bought the wrong one. This one is great, it’s her band and they do a great job. But I wanted that soulful depression era blues that I heard on the subway.
So weeks later I scrounged up my crumpled ones, and $4 in quarters to by her original album. And there it was. “Pick Poor Robin Clean” - Geechie Wiley.
I felt my heart skip.
She’s real.
In that second I fell in love.
I fell in love with the idea of her. And then I heard Erin Harpe sing Pick Poor Robin Clean, and I knew what I had to do. The internet is a wonderful thing. I tracked down the faded, crackling Geechie Wiley and had a listen.
They are both brilliant.
I’m still in love with Erin Harpe, the greatest street musician I’ve had the privilege to listen to. And I’m still in love with Geechie Wiley who remains a mystery; she leaves a spotty trail of recording, but is real. Now I have the privilege of beginning to understand just how rare that album in the story was.
Monday, June 12, 2006
An Inconvenient Truth
So I have a favor to ask everyone I know. And it may sound left wing liberal crazy. And to some of you that was a ringing endorsement of my favor. And to others it was quite the opposite. But I promise either way this is worth your while.
Go see Al Gore’s new documentary An Inconvenient Truth.
It’s science, and though I’d heard it all before… it was devastating. And hopeful. Seeing it all together the graphs, the charts, the photos, the brilliant Matt Groening animation... I felt a bit like Pandora when she opened that damn box. All hell and destruction burst loose. But remember small and shining at the bottom of the box was hope. We need that when we take on these insurmountable odds.
And Al Gore.
I’m as shocked as the next person. I didn’t like his political platform that he for president with. I didn’t like his choice of running mates. I didn’t like his views of school vouchers and censorship. I did like his views on the environment but I’m not sure he would have been a good president. Better than the one we have, absolutely. I don’t know about you but sometimes I feel that isn’t enough.
But Al Gore environmental crusader… well I’ve finally seen what he cares about. I’ve finally seen where his passion is. I’ve finally seen him reach people. And friends, I like what I see. I see a man raising alarms, not color levels. I see someone with a plan, who is ringing alarm bells not pushing panic buttons. I see a person who’s trying to make a difference against the odds. And he’s not asking for much. He’s out there trying to make things better.
I’d heard the facts before; I knew about the weather phenomenons, the ice caps melting the carbon dioxide levels rising, I’ve heard more than this movie covers. This is just a surprisingly powerful, funny, telling of it. It’s not perfect, it has flaws. I read a review that this is a 3 star movie about a 5 star PowerPoint presentation. That’s not far off. But it’s worth seeing.
So go see his movie and tell your friends about it. Talk about it. Do something about it.
Go see Al Gore’s new documentary An Inconvenient Truth.
It’s science, and though I’d heard it all before… it was devastating. And hopeful. Seeing it all together the graphs, the charts, the photos, the brilliant Matt Groening animation... I felt a bit like Pandora when she opened that damn box. All hell and destruction burst loose. But remember small and shining at the bottom of the box was hope. We need that when we take on these insurmountable odds.
And Al Gore.
I’m as shocked as the next person. I didn’t like his political platform that he for president with. I didn’t like his choice of running mates. I didn’t like his views of school vouchers and censorship. I did like his views on the environment but I’m not sure he would have been a good president. Better than the one we have, absolutely. I don’t know about you but sometimes I feel that isn’t enough.
But Al Gore environmental crusader… well I’ve finally seen what he cares about. I’ve finally seen where his passion is. I’ve finally seen him reach people. And friends, I like what I see. I see a man raising alarms, not color levels. I see someone with a plan, who is ringing alarm bells not pushing panic buttons. I see a person who’s trying to make a difference against the odds. And he’s not asking for much. He’s out there trying to make things better.
I’d heard the facts before; I knew about the weather phenomenons, the ice caps melting the carbon dioxide levels rising, I’ve heard more than this movie covers. This is just a surprisingly powerful, funny, telling of it. It’s not perfect, it has flaws. I read a review that this is a 3 star movie about a 5 star PowerPoint presentation. That’s not far off. But it’s worth seeing.
So go see his movie and tell your friends about it. Talk about it. Do something about it.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Happy Birthday Dad
It’s dad’s birthday today. I wrote my annual letter to my dad.
Dear Dad,
Well I tried to give your birthday away this year. I thought you’d like that. I thought you would appreciate the gesture. It keeps it close to us, the day, you, everything. Tried... I didn’t quite succeed but then again, switching Connor’s Birthday to June 6th on 6/6/06 might nor have been the best idea. Maybe next year. I’ll still take him to NYC as a birthday present in June.
Another reason to call it D-Day… Devil’s Day, Dad’s Day.
It was tougher than I thought this year as the anniversary rolled around. It’s been ten years. And I still miss things about you. And I’ve forgotten so much about you. I feel like now I remember the way you look more from photographs instead of memories. Chardy helps. He’s our last link to you. I guess we’re his last link you too. But enough of that. We both know that I love and miss you.
I hope you’re not too mad at us for the Day of the Dad. I know you would rather we were more supportive of mom about this but… I vowed that I would never let your death ruin my birthday again. I know she wants me to be there for her but… I’m not the one to do it. She should find someone else. One of her sisters because I’m not going to do it. I can’t. It’s been ten years, she should find someone else to hold her hand that day. I fought too hard to keep that mine, to keep it happy.
Plus that zombie movie kind of got to me. I wonder what you’d think of it. Forgive me not wanting you to come back that day. It’s just those zombies, they acted like you do in my dreams. It must be a common dream… shared by many who grieve. But it was scary to see it fleshed out in film. Disturbing and fascinating. Like all the best things right?
So what have I been up too? Oh the usual dead end career, art on the side although I’ve started calling myself an artist again. I’m an artist I’m just doing a little freelance reception on the side. Yeah I thought that was pretty funny.
I know, I’ll figure it out. It’s just a struggle. In the mean time I fight with myself about art and what I should be doing right now. I should be working on the book. I should be planning the trip to New York, I should be working on a large watercolor or finishing the pictures for Mom’s Mother’s Day present. I should be making a new picture for Louis’s birthday and Laura’s Birthday. I should be making a plan for me life.
Yet I’m happy. I’ve been pleased with my last projects, gifts for weddings and birthdays. Shadow boxes, with cut paper. The space one really made me pretty happy Zelda Zap Galactic Space Girl. Emily Hogan now owns that one. Sarah’s was a little more personal. Matt’s was a work of art. But I’m a little nervous about that one.
I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It will either amuse or appall you. Matt’s shadowbox, it’s a Hawaiian theme, things they will do on their honeymoon in Hawaii. It’s broken into 4 boxes, one of them hiking, one in a beach bar, one snorkeling (Did you ever snorkel? That’s good fun) and the last is a Luau with two hula girls dancing. So… when I drew the hula girls I was having trouble with their proportions so I drew them naked first, and anatomically correct and all and pasted on the hula skirts and tops and all of that but the glue I used wasn’t so great. So I’m convinced in time it will get brittle and break and all of their clothes with fall off leaving the naked girls! You know I only gave it to them because I didn’t think they’d like it in the first place. But I worked very hard to make it wonderful enough that they might fall in love with it. I could have used better glue but I didn’t… I know it’s wrong but I just think that’s funny.
I was at the Greek Festival this weekend. It was the same as it ever was. It was exactly the same. I smiled and ate and watched the dancing with a mix of nostalgia and resentment. I scanned the crowd for people I knew and hid my eyes when I thought I’d recognize them. I hid in plane sight and soaked in the ambience. I thought I should get a drink to really enjoy this. I thought of you.
Sarah has her masters now, Library Science; Emily’s a doctor like Pam. Jimmy is the same, good natured, yuppie, liberal. He’s still smart and sharp, loves kids and seems genuinely happy to see us. Pam has two boys, they are cute and she’s happy, her husband is sweet. Kathy is the same, exactly the same.
As for Beth, she has plans, is going to Chile, is finishing school, applying to graduate school. She’ll be an English Professor someday or she’ll be something else. You’ll be proud of her though.
Brian’s still searching for someone to complete him. He should try looking inside himself. I love my brother but he’s still just soul sick. I guess we all are. He just has it worse than the rest of us.
We saw Alison. Or rather Beth and Mom did. She’s doing well two kids and all that. She misses us as much as we miss her.
The Shea kids are huge. Connor is a reader, smart, goofy, sweet, wonderful. Erin is athletic, kind, saucy and fresh. Ryan is little miss sassafras. She is all attitude and charm. You’d love them. And Chardy sails on the same sea of confusion as Beth and me. Ships in search of something else. We’ve vowed to take care of each other when any of us make it big. And I don’t doubt it.
And I’m starting to think you are lucky you missed the series. It really isn’t same now that they won. The Yankee rivalry doesn’t even feel the same to me. I wouldn’t trade those seven games for the world… that’s how you should fight against the Yankees. That will be the pinnacle of that rivalry for me. But I now recognize that it was the end of an era and nothing will be the same after that. And that’s good and bad. Long suffering led to poetry in our writing, sorrow let to dark humor, my favorite kind.
I love you.
I never believed it would be ten years since I’ve seen your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch. I know it would come I knew things would be okay. I knew I would be okay but I never believed 10 years would pass so quickly. You are so much a part of me. You’ll always be such a part of me. Thank goodness for that.
I’ll make you proud. I promise.
Love,
Kate
Dear Dad,
Well I tried to give your birthday away this year. I thought you’d like that. I thought you would appreciate the gesture. It keeps it close to us, the day, you, everything. Tried... I didn’t quite succeed but then again, switching Connor’s Birthday to June 6th on 6/6/06 might nor have been the best idea. Maybe next year. I’ll still take him to NYC as a birthday present in June.
Another reason to call it D-Day… Devil’s Day, Dad’s Day.
It was tougher than I thought this year as the anniversary rolled around. It’s been ten years. And I still miss things about you. And I’ve forgotten so much about you. I feel like now I remember the way you look more from photographs instead of memories. Chardy helps. He’s our last link to you. I guess we’re his last link you too. But enough of that. We both know that I love and miss you.
I hope you’re not too mad at us for the Day of the Dad. I know you would rather we were more supportive of mom about this but… I vowed that I would never let your death ruin my birthday again. I know she wants me to be there for her but… I’m not the one to do it. She should find someone else. One of her sisters because I’m not going to do it. I can’t. It’s been ten years, she should find someone else to hold her hand that day. I fought too hard to keep that mine, to keep it happy.
Plus that zombie movie kind of got to me. I wonder what you’d think of it. Forgive me not wanting you to come back that day. It’s just those zombies, they acted like you do in my dreams. It must be a common dream… shared by many who grieve. But it was scary to see it fleshed out in film. Disturbing and fascinating. Like all the best things right?
So what have I been up too? Oh the usual dead end career, art on the side although I’ve started calling myself an artist again. I’m an artist I’m just doing a little freelance reception on the side. Yeah I thought that was pretty funny.
I know, I’ll figure it out. It’s just a struggle. In the mean time I fight with myself about art and what I should be doing right now. I should be working on the book. I should be planning the trip to New York, I should be working on a large watercolor or finishing the pictures for Mom’s Mother’s Day present. I should be making a new picture for Louis’s birthday and Laura’s Birthday. I should be making a plan for me life.
Yet I’m happy. I’ve been pleased with my last projects, gifts for weddings and birthdays. Shadow boxes, with cut paper. The space one really made me pretty happy Zelda Zap Galactic Space Girl. Emily Hogan now owns that one. Sarah’s was a little more personal. Matt’s was a work of art. But I’m a little nervous about that one.
I don’t know why I’m telling you this. It will either amuse or appall you. Matt’s shadowbox, it’s a Hawaiian theme, things they will do on their honeymoon in Hawaii. It’s broken into 4 boxes, one of them hiking, one in a beach bar, one snorkeling (Did you ever snorkel? That’s good fun) and the last is a Luau with two hula girls dancing. So… when I drew the hula girls I was having trouble with their proportions so I drew them naked first, and anatomically correct and all and pasted on the hula skirts and tops and all of that but the glue I used wasn’t so great. So I’m convinced in time it will get brittle and break and all of their clothes with fall off leaving the naked girls! You know I only gave it to them because I didn’t think they’d like it in the first place. But I worked very hard to make it wonderful enough that they might fall in love with it. I could have used better glue but I didn’t… I know it’s wrong but I just think that’s funny.
I was at the Greek Festival this weekend. It was the same as it ever was. It was exactly the same. I smiled and ate and watched the dancing with a mix of nostalgia and resentment. I scanned the crowd for people I knew and hid my eyes when I thought I’d recognize them. I hid in plane sight and soaked in the ambience. I thought I should get a drink to really enjoy this. I thought of you.
Sarah has her masters now, Library Science; Emily’s a doctor like Pam. Jimmy is the same, good natured, yuppie, liberal. He’s still smart and sharp, loves kids and seems genuinely happy to see us. Pam has two boys, they are cute and she’s happy, her husband is sweet. Kathy is the same, exactly the same.
As for Beth, she has plans, is going to Chile, is finishing school, applying to graduate school. She’ll be an English Professor someday or she’ll be something else. You’ll be proud of her though.
Brian’s still searching for someone to complete him. He should try looking inside himself. I love my brother but he’s still just soul sick. I guess we all are. He just has it worse than the rest of us.
We saw Alison. Or rather Beth and Mom did. She’s doing well two kids and all that. She misses us as much as we miss her.
The Shea kids are huge. Connor is a reader, smart, goofy, sweet, wonderful. Erin is athletic, kind, saucy and fresh. Ryan is little miss sassafras. She is all attitude and charm. You’d love them. And Chardy sails on the same sea of confusion as Beth and me. Ships in search of something else. We’ve vowed to take care of each other when any of us make it big. And I don’t doubt it.
And I’m starting to think you are lucky you missed the series. It really isn’t same now that they won. The Yankee rivalry doesn’t even feel the same to me. I wouldn’t trade those seven games for the world… that’s how you should fight against the Yankees. That will be the pinnacle of that rivalry for me. But I now recognize that it was the end of an era and nothing will be the same after that. And that’s good and bad. Long suffering led to poetry in our writing, sorrow let to dark humor, my favorite kind.
I love you.
I never believed it would be ten years since I’ve seen your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch. I know it would come I knew things would be okay. I knew I would be okay but I never believed 10 years would pass so quickly. You are so much a part of me. You’ll always be such a part of me. Thank goodness for that.
I’ll make you proud. I promise.
Love,
Kate
Saturday, May 06, 2006
They Came Back
Well dad didn’t come back. And I’m a little relieved.
Zombie films are one of my favorite genres of films because they scare me. Zombies scare me. Zombies and the church. But “They Came Back” a film that was eerie, without gore... that got me. And I was only half kidding when I talked about being on Zombie watch. Part of me expected him to come back and in a way someone did come back.
It was Allison. Brian’s ex-girlfriend, the one he should have married, the one he was going to marry, the one who slipped away. I haven’t seen her in maybe 8 or 9 or years. But I didn’t see her; I didn’t hear about her voice, I didn’t hear about her new life, her kids. Mom and Beth did. And I am a little sad that I didn’t see her. They tell me she was the same. When she and Brian broke up, that was it. I never saw her again. I never spoke to her again. She was just gone. Beth was the one who got in contact with her. And Brian got upset. But he doesn’t get as great as his hurt is, it was his choice, he said goodbye and we never did. She was just gone. And though he loves her more, we love her too. So on the day of Zombie watch, someone did come back... it just wasn’t who we were expecting.
Memories flooded me and I remembered Allison.
Allison who taught me so much, the older sister I always wanted. She taught me the tone of voice to use with when arguing for what you want with a smile. It’s especially useful when arguing with customer service. She was so different than us and so wonderful. I remember the summer of Jane. I remember going to get treats. When I would visit Brian in San Diego he would work and be tired, and Allison would hang out and do things with me. She showed me that you didn’t have to play by the rules. Rules are meant to be stretched, pushed and broken. She taught me that feminism is feminine, that girl power comes in many forms and that as different as people are admiration can be mutual. She brought an element into our lives that we never had. And I hope we did the same. She was special and from what I hear she still is.
Enough love letters to my former sister. It’s bringing me down.
Today is the day of my former youngest cousin’s college graduation. He used to me my youngest cousin. For years he was my youngest cousin. Until about 11 years ago. Since my 30th birthday Beth and I have reconnected with Steve. We went out on Christmas together, we plan on hanging out at our cousin Matt’s wedding. It’s nice. Steve and his brother Chris were like little brothers to me growing up. And of all of my cousins who I’ve lost touch with, they are the ones that I felt the loss strongest. But the reconnection has been great. And Steve is such a nice person, he’s a good egg.
So I’m looking forward to seeing him.
Zombie films are one of my favorite genres of films because they scare me. Zombies scare me. Zombies and the church. But “They Came Back” a film that was eerie, without gore... that got me. And I was only half kidding when I talked about being on Zombie watch. Part of me expected him to come back and in a way someone did come back.
It was Allison. Brian’s ex-girlfriend, the one he should have married, the one he was going to marry, the one who slipped away. I haven’t seen her in maybe 8 or 9 or years. But I didn’t see her; I didn’t hear about her voice, I didn’t hear about her new life, her kids. Mom and Beth did. And I am a little sad that I didn’t see her. They tell me she was the same. When she and Brian broke up, that was it. I never saw her again. I never spoke to her again. She was just gone. Beth was the one who got in contact with her. And Brian got upset. But he doesn’t get as great as his hurt is, it was his choice, he said goodbye and we never did. She was just gone. And though he loves her more, we love her too. So on the day of Zombie watch, someone did come back... it just wasn’t who we were expecting.
Memories flooded me and I remembered Allison.
Allison who taught me so much, the older sister I always wanted. She taught me the tone of voice to use with when arguing for what you want with a smile. It’s especially useful when arguing with customer service. She was so different than us and so wonderful. I remember the summer of Jane. I remember going to get treats. When I would visit Brian in San Diego he would work and be tired, and Allison would hang out and do things with me. She showed me that you didn’t have to play by the rules. Rules are meant to be stretched, pushed and broken. She taught me that feminism is feminine, that girl power comes in many forms and that as different as people are admiration can be mutual. She brought an element into our lives that we never had. And I hope we did the same. She was special and from what I hear she still is.
Enough love letters to my former sister. It’s bringing me down.
Today is the day of my former youngest cousin’s college graduation. He used to me my youngest cousin. For years he was my youngest cousin. Until about 11 years ago. Since my 30th birthday Beth and I have reconnected with Steve. We went out on Christmas together, we plan on hanging out at our cousin Matt’s wedding. It’s nice. Steve and his brother Chris were like little brothers to me growing up. And of all of my cousins who I’ve lost touch with, they are the ones that I felt the loss strongest. But the reconnection has been great. And Steve is such a nice person, he’s a good egg.
So I’m looking forward to seeing him.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
DAY OF THE DAD!
I found my new favorite genre of Zombie Movies. For a while it was fast moving light fearing Zombies ala Rage Monkeys of 28 Days Later. But now its non flesh eating French eerie zombies of doom!
Okay on a whim Beth and I rented “They Came Back”. A 2004 French movie about the undead. And it crept us out big time. We both liked the some what silly English title of the film and the premise that one day for about 2 hours the recent dead (within 10 years) came back to life clean and in good health. The people tried to reintegrate them into society but something was wrong.
The thing was, and this was the big creep factor for me. I’ve had a lot of dreams about my dad since he died (ten years ago this Friday) and he’s always been Dad in my dreams but a little off. I always know he’s dead, and he’s always strangely still, quiet and just off. And by off I mean in the exact way the people in this film are off. The dead, the undead. Beth also plagued by these dreams of my father made the same remark. In our dreams he acts like they did. And it scared us, it felt too true. We loved it.
So put it on your list if you haven’t seen it. It’s a slow pace and in French but worth it.
Now all I can do is sit here thinking about how my dad died ten years ago tomorrow morning. I just have to make it through tomorrow morning and I’ll be safe. I don’t want to here about my dad coming back from the dead tomorrow. I’ve had too many of those dreams. Beth and I dub tomorrow:
DAY OF THE DAD!!!
Or D- Day
D-Day, June 6th, the Allied invasion of Normandy
D-Day, June 6th my dad’s birthday
D-Day, Dad’s Day, Father’s Day, second Sunday in June
D-Day, Death Day, April 28, the day my dad died
Day of the Dead, November 1st. Celebration of those who have died.
Day of the Dad = Any and all of these days.
If I can make it through tomorrow I’ll be safe. If not, well have you met my dad? He’s a zombie but… I still love him, even if he creeps me out a little. Don’t worry he won't eat your flesh… we think.
Okay on a whim Beth and I rented “They Came Back”. A 2004 French movie about the undead. And it crept us out big time. We both liked the some what silly English title of the film and the premise that one day for about 2 hours the recent dead (within 10 years) came back to life clean and in good health. The people tried to reintegrate them into society but something was wrong.
The thing was, and this was the big creep factor for me. I’ve had a lot of dreams about my dad since he died (ten years ago this Friday) and he’s always been Dad in my dreams but a little off. I always know he’s dead, and he’s always strangely still, quiet and just off. And by off I mean in the exact way the people in this film are off. The dead, the undead. Beth also plagued by these dreams of my father made the same remark. In our dreams he acts like they did. And it scared us, it felt too true. We loved it.
So put it on your list if you haven’t seen it. It’s a slow pace and in French but worth it.
Now all I can do is sit here thinking about how my dad died ten years ago tomorrow morning. I just have to make it through tomorrow morning and I’ll be safe. I don’t want to here about my dad coming back from the dead tomorrow. I’ve had too many of those dreams. Beth and I dub tomorrow:
DAY OF THE DAD!!!
Or D- Day
D-Day, June 6th, the Allied invasion of Normandy
D-Day, June 6th my dad’s birthday
D-Day, Dad’s Day, Father’s Day, second Sunday in June
D-Day, Death Day, April 28, the day my dad died
Day of the Dead, November 1st. Celebration of those who have died.
Day of the Dad = Any and all of these days.
If I can make it through tomorrow I’ll be safe. If not, well have you met my dad? He’s a zombie but… I still love him, even if he creeps me out a little. Don’t worry he won't eat your flesh… we think.
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Fran made me do it.
Fran tagged me for this meme:
4 Jobs in my Life
1. Popcorn Monkey
2. Bead clerk/artist/instructor
3. Field Manager for a global marketing research company.
3. Admin.
4 Films I could see a million times
1. Jaws
2. A Room with a View
3. Joe Versus the Volcano
4. Any Wes Anderson or Whit Stilman film
4 Places I lived at
1. Massachuesetts
2. No where else
3. Still no where else
4. My imagination?
4 TV Series I really like to watch
1. The Simpsons
2. LOST
3. Grey's Anatomy
4. The Office
Those are my current favorites, but past series off the air include
1. Northern Exposure
2. Freaks and Geeks
3. My So Called Life
4. Spaced
4 Places I've spent my Holidays
1. Mexico
2. Nevada
3. California
4. Hawaii
4 Favourite Foods
1. Cheese
2. Apple pie
3. Fried clams
4. Hawaii Burgers from Islands
4 Websites I visit every day
1. http://www.google.com
2. http://www.yahoo.com
3. http://www.bostonworks.com
4. http:www.craigslist.com
4 Places I’d love to be right now (instead of *here*)
1. Anywhere (I'm at work)
2. Hawaii
3. Thailand
4. Rio
People who should do this
1. Whoever would like to
4 Jobs in my Life
1. Popcorn Monkey
2. Bead clerk/artist/instructor
3. Field Manager for a global marketing research company.
3. Admin.
4 Films I could see a million times
1. Jaws
2. A Room with a View
3. Joe Versus the Volcano
4. Any Wes Anderson or Whit Stilman film
4 Places I lived at
1. Massachuesetts
2. No where else
3. Still no where else
4. My imagination?
4 TV Series I really like to watch
1. The Simpsons
2. LOST
3. Grey's Anatomy
4. The Office
Those are my current favorites, but past series off the air include
1. Northern Exposure
2. Freaks and Geeks
3. My So Called Life
4. Spaced
4 Places I've spent my Holidays
1. Mexico
2. Nevada
3. California
4. Hawaii
4 Favourite Foods
1. Cheese
2. Apple pie
3. Fried clams
4. Hawaii Burgers from Islands
4 Websites I visit every day
1. http://www.google.com
2. http://www.yahoo.com
3. http://www.bostonworks.com
4. http:www.craigslist.com
4 Places I’d love to be right now (instead of *here*)
1. Anywhere (I'm at work)
2. Hawaii
3. Thailand
4. Rio
People who should do this
1. Whoever would like to
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Merry Christmas to you...
It's my favorite moment of the year. A moment so sweet, so simple so filled with potential. About to be interrupted. But the moment is even better when shared.
I love to wake up early Christmas morning, when all the word is asleep, turn on the lights of the tree and sit contemplating Christmas thoughts like peace on earth and good will towards man. I like to think about the people I know and love all snug in their beds, dreaming of sugarplums. I like to thing of people whose dreams my come true today when gifts of unbridled generosity may thrill them.
I like to think about Christmas morning and look at the piles of presents and wonder if any of my carefully wrapped presents will thrill my family. I think about my brother in California and hope he has merry Christmas. And I like to think about you too.
There is such sweet serenity at this moment.
Somewhere children are prowling in the dark, waiting for moment when Christmas begins. Somewhere weary parents rest, exhausted but happy with their haul of gifts. Somewhere someone sits thinking about Christmas watching the light of tree in the darkness.
One upon a time my sister and I both did this. We would sit and quietly contemplate how very lucky we were. Thinking to ourselves indeed it is a wonderful life. But sleep and good sense gradually pulled her away form this early morning ritual. And every year that same good sense tightens the covers around me on Christmas morning. But somehow I drag myself up and soon am basking in glorious tranquility of the morning while the rest of the world slumbers. But the world is my oyster right now, and it's easy for me to believe in the spirit of Christmas.
Wishing you all the best this Christmas.
I love to wake up early Christmas morning, when all the word is asleep, turn on the lights of the tree and sit contemplating Christmas thoughts like peace on earth and good will towards man. I like to think about the people I know and love all snug in their beds, dreaming of sugarplums. I like to thing of people whose dreams my come true today when gifts of unbridled generosity may thrill them.
I like to think about Christmas morning and look at the piles of presents and wonder if any of my carefully wrapped presents will thrill my family. I think about my brother in California and hope he has merry Christmas. And I like to think about you too.
There is such sweet serenity at this moment.
Somewhere children are prowling in the dark, waiting for moment when Christmas begins. Somewhere weary parents rest, exhausted but happy with their haul of gifts. Somewhere someone sits thinking about Christmas watching the light of tree in the darkness.
One upon a time my sister and I both did this. We would sit and quietly contemplate how very lucky we were. Thinking to ourselves indeed it is a wonderful life. But sleep and good sense gradually pulled her away form this early morning ritual. And every year that same good sense tightens the covers around me on Christmas morning. But somehow I drag myself up and soon am basking in glorious tranquility of the morning while the rest of the world slumbers. But the world is my oyster right now, and it's easy for me to believe in the spirit of Christmas.
Wishing you all the best this Christmas.
Monday, November 28, 2005
I'm thankful it's over...
I might have lost my temper over Thanksgiving. I shouldn’t say “might have” as if there is a possibility that I didn’t lose my temper. I did lose my temper over Thanksgiving. I lost it in that screaming and swearing at my grandfather kind of way. Politics at the dinner table… never a good idea yet a family tradition.
And that’s fine. Everybody speaks and it’s a political round table. Except this table wasn’t round. And some how out numbered 3 to 2 the men at the table decided their opinions were more valuable than ours. To the point that anytime we would start to speak they would talk over us. Will would talk Grandpa would talk, and we would listen and when they stopped talking I would start to speak and one of them would start talking right over me, as if I wasn’t speaking, as if I wasn’t there.
And it started the moment I came into the room to greet Grandpa. I started to say how he would be proud I was a good daughter today, I shoveled out Mom’s driveway, making it the first driveway to be cleared on her block. I started to tell him this, I was a sentence and a half in when he turned and started talking to Will as if I wasn’t there.
It had actually been a cute anecdote about while I was shoveling a neighbor came out and wished me a happy Thanksgiving. He told me it was nice weather for shoveling. To which I responded “It’s perfect weather for shoveling, I tried it in the summer but it didn’t work nearly as well”.
But my grandfather wasn’t interested in hearing from me, he wanted to talk to will. I took his coat and walked away a little irritated.
Dinner was good. I was helping in the kitchen leading up to dinner and that suited me fine. But afterward is when the political talks began. Will and Grandpa formed their own little “boys club” and would not let anyone get a word in edgewise. Mom and Beth would yell breaking into the fray but I would wait for the pauses to ad my two cents. And every time Grandpa or Will would talk right over me. I was getting frustrated and punctuate my anger by getting up and stomping off to get something or to say “Forget it I’m done”. It went on for about 40 minutes or so like this.
By now the topic was protecting the environment. Beth was saying that the government needs to be ones leading the incentives for going green. But they argued it had to be an individual effort. When Beth was through speaking I offered the example of the Worcester Trash Recycling Program. While most people in Worcester wouldn’t recycle on their own, once they had no choice but to try it, they fell into the habit of separating cans, bottles, and paper form their trash. While the individual efforts hadn’t produced great results, when given a program, they became one of the leaders of recycling in the state.
However I couldn’t that out. At least not in a civil tone. Because once I started speaking they started talking over me. And I blew up. I pushed away form the table and said I was done that it was fucking rude to talk over me and I wasn’t going to take it any more. I screamed it, I swore at my 90 year old grandfather, who I love. I yelled that “maybe if I yell loud enough you can hear me”. I howled my anger.
Bad enough that they were being rude, but that is was so damn sexist. The two of them wouldn’t listen to a damn word any of us females had to say. We females, the founders of the feast, the ones who make this event happen every year. Intelligent women, who have real, valid points being ignored, talked over and talked down to. Why because we don’t have that small faulty Y chromosome. Well thank you very much but no.
I stormed into the kitchen and started violently cleaning up the leftovers. I was angry with myself for losing my temper like that but never in my life has anyone treated my opinions so poorly, so rudely. And I’m not in the habit of lying down and taking that from anyone. let alone my family. That’s not how I was raised. It took me about a half hour to calm down to join the table again. For about 15 minutes they would pause when I spoke. I threw in a few jabs “apologizing” for speaking, interrupting their “boys club”. But eventually they ignored all three of us women, even if we yelled. It was very frustrating.
I thought Mum would be mad, after all I did swear at her father but she and Beth both expressed sympathy. Although neither one of them felt that they could get into the fight, I thrown myself into, they both felt I was in my rights to do what I did. Mum said they were acting like assholes. Beth said they were sexist jerks who hate women.
The rest of thanksgiving was uneventful. Thank goodness.
And that’s fine. Everybody speaks and it’s a political round table. Except this table wasn’t round. And some how out numbered 3 to 2 the men at the table decided their opinions were more valuable than ours. To the point that anytime we would start to speak they would talk over us. Will would talk Grandpa would talk, and we would listen and when they stopped talking I would start to speak and one of them would start talking right over me, as if I wasn’t speaking, as if I wasn’t there.
And it started the moment I came into the room to greet Grandpa. I started to say how he would be proud I was a good daughter today, I shoveled out Mom’s driveway, making it the first driveway to be cleared on her block. I started to tell him this, I was a sentence and a half in when he turned and started talking to Will as if I wasn’t there.
It had actually been a cute anecdote about while I was shoveling a neighbor came out and wished me a happy Thanksgiving. He told me it was nice weather for shoveling. To which I responded “It’s perfect weather for shoveling, I tried it in the summer but it didn’t work nearly as well”.
But my grandfather wasn’t interested in hearing from me, he wanted to talk to will. I took his coat and walked away a little irritated.
Dinner was good. I was helping in the kitchen leading up to dinner and that suited me fine. But afterward is when the political talks began. Will and Grandpa formed their own little “boys club” and would not let anyone get a word in edgewise. Mom and Beth would yell breaking into the fray but I would wait for the pauses to ad my two cents. And every time Grandpa or Will would talk right over me. I was getting frustrated and punctuate my anger by getting up and stomping off to get something or to say “Forget it I’m done”. It went on for about 40 minutes or so like this.
By now the topic was protecting the environment. Beth was saying that the government needs to be ones leading the incentives for going green. But they argued it had to be an individual effort. When Beth was through speaking I offered the example of the Worcester Trash Recycling Program. While most people in Worcester wouldn’t recycle on their own, once they had no choice but to try it, they fell into the habit of separating cans, bottles, and paper form their trash. While the individual efforts hadn’t produced great results, when given a program, they became one of the leaders of recycling in the state.
However I couldn’t that out. At least not in a civil tone. Because once I started speaking they started talking over me. And I blew up. I pushed away form the table and said I was done that it was fucking rude to talk over me and I wasn’t going to take it any more. I screamed it, I swore at my 90 year old grandfather, who I love. I yelled that “maybe if I yell loud enough you can hear me”. I howled my anger.
Bad enough that they were being rude, but that is was so damn sexist. The two of them wouldn’t listen to a damn word any of us females had to say. We females, the founders of the feast, the ones who make this event happen every year. Intelligent women, who have real, valid points being ignored, talked over and talked down to. Why because we don’t have that small faulty Y chromosome. Well thank you very much but no.
I stormed into the kitchen and started violently cleaning up the leftovers. I was angry with myself for losing my temper like that but never in my life has anyone treated my opinions so poorly, so rudely. And I’m not in the habit of lying down and taking that from anyone. let alone my family. That’s not how I was raised. It took me about a half hour to calm down to join the table again. For about 15 minutes they would pause when I spoke. I threw in a few jabs “apologizing” for speaking, interrupting their “boys club”. But eventually they ignored all three of us women, even if we yelled. It was very frustrating.
I thought Mum would be mad, after all I did swear at her father but she and Beth both expressed sympathy. Although neither one of them felt that they could get into the fight, I thrown myself into, they both felt I was in my rights to do what I did. Mum said they were acting like assholes. Beth said they were sexist jerks who hate women.
The rest of thanksgiving was uneventful. Thank goodness.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Hadley made me do it...
Hadley, being the sweet wonderful, fabulous person she is asked me to write a little something to let you know I'm alive.
I'm alive and kicking just not kicking to hard for fear of breaking something.
Brian, Beth and I are dressing as members of Team Zissou for Halloween. We have these great warm up suits, Beth made us fabulous hats. I've made patches, buiness cards and all sorts of stuff. I'm working on some critters, a blowpop fish, a sunset sea pony... It's all exciting,
I have a party to go to and all sorts of things planned.
I randomly called my old pal Lee last night which was odd of me to do. And I relay the nuances of that exchange another time.
Still no modem.
Still miss you all.
Still looking for excuses to buuy wigs.
I love HALLOWEEN!!!
I'm alive and kicking just not kicking to hard for fear of breaking something.
Brian, Beth and I are dressing as members of Team Zissou for Halloween. We have these great warm up suits, Beth made us fabulous hats. I've made patches, buiness cards and all sorts of stuff. I'm working on some critters, a blowpop fish, a sunset sea pony... It's all exciting,
I have a party to go to and all sorts of things planned.
I randomly called my old pal Lee last night which was odd of me to do. And I relay the nuances of that exchange another time.
Still no modem.
Still miss you all.
Still looking for excuses to buuy wigs.
I love HALLOWEEN!!!
Friday, August 19, 2005
Oh hell!
So I finally get a chance to blog and the sever goes down.
Que sera, sera!
I think my modem or phone line is having issues at home. I can’t connect.
I can’t connect. Yup I think that just about sums it up for me lately I can’t connect. Not at work or anywhere else... I won’t bore you with the details about work. Suffice to say, I’m not happy there. Every minute of every day is spent counting down when I can leave. Seconds become an eternity, and thoughts of purgatory fill me. Have I died? Is this the blank unholy torture of the limbo between heaven and hell?
The up side is when I leave work I don’t really think about it. I block it out most of the time.
I miss blogging. I miss reading about you.
I want to know how Marcie’s party went. I went to a party that night too but it wasn’t much fun. I was thinking about her party and how I’d rather be there.
I miss Fran and Hillary with their insightful humor and charm.
And Hadley I should just call because I care and I want to wish well. We both live in Boston!
I’ll start calling people to check on them. It’s old fashioned. But so am I. Purgatory went the way of the dinosaur after Vatican II. And you can thank Vatican II for the Catholic ideas of birthcontrol, sex, and bunch of other things that I think they screwed up on. Why can’t I just drop it?
Que sera, sera!
I think my modem or phone line is having issues at home. I can’t connect.
I can’t connect. Yup I think that just about sums it up for me lately I can’t connect. Not at work or anywhere else... I won’t bore you with the details about work. Suffice to say, I’m not happy there. Every minute of every day is spent counting down when I can leave. Seconds become an eternity, and thoughts of purgatory fill me. Have I died? Is this the blank unholy torture of the limbo between heaven and hell?
The up side is when I leave work I don’t really think about it. I block it out most of the time.
I miss blogging. I miss reading about you.
I want to know how Marcie’s party went. I went to a party that night too but it wasn’t much fun. I was thinking about her party and how I’d rather be there.
I miss Fran and Hillary with their insightful humor and charm.
And Hadley I should just call because I care and I want to wish well. We both live in Boston!
I’ll start calling people to check on them. It’s old fashioned. But so am I. Purgatory went the way of the dinosaur after Vatican II. And you can thank Vatican II for the Catholic ideas of birthcontrol, sex, and bunch of other things that I think they screwed up on. Why can’t I just drop it?
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