rats

I got stuck coming out, which is why I’m now here

in tears only twenty years later, with neighbors banging

walls and telling me to shut up; “some people work” after all.

Manic depression is like the rat that ran across the room

pulling a trigger and launching its claim to what’s left of

good judgment. So I’ll remain awake and take what’s left

of the night and put it to good use, (I dare say, staring at corners)

waiting for mice. Friends are busy sorting their squalor

and don’t want to hear about vermin. “They will just eat the flies

anyway” they say, though humor is stiff when you’re awake in bed

flinching at each sway of the blinds and the hardened sap. I sometimes

prefer dramatic wars over still evenings like this, listening to car

crashes on the 55 and plotting with peanut butter and traps.

Here we go

I’m packed and ready to go, just waiting for some cds to burn since I don’t have an ipod or an ipod plug for my car, and while I like Scott’s taste in music to a degree, I’m going to need a little bit of Judy Garland and Radiohead to get me through a 10 hour drive.

Today I called Scott at night and asked him what he was bringing. “Chile” he said…  (I waited for more, but there wasn’t anything….) Consequently, I’m worried about the food supplies. Scott said that he could live off of carrots and chile all week, but I have a feeling by day three my $20 supply of beef jerkey is going to look pretty amazing and while I know Burning Man is all about “peace, love and sharing” I don’t mess around with my food, especially in the middle of the desert.

Anyhow, I’m looking forward to this trip, despite the raised-eyebrows and looks of skepticism that practically everyone I know has been giving me this past month.  We celebrated my mom’s birthday today and my highly Republican Christian cousins just stared at me with this “she’s going to hell” look as I tried explaining Burning Man in PG terms.

See you all in a week, hopefully not in hell.

Startling realizations and not-so-startling realizations

I had a startling realization this morning that I look like a sloth… not symbolically but literally. My neck is sort of fading into my face right now and the mouth and eyes are oddly similar, aside from color. I’ve put on 5 pounds in a week from eating out at every meal, including two late-night trips to Bob’s Big Boy and I’m feeling rather ill from it all. I know it isn’t classy to talk about weight and I do it WAY too much, but I personally love those stars that always obsess about it and go up and down, mainly because they make me feel better about my lot. Scott told me the other day though, “Just eat tofu and carrots or stop complaining to me about it.” I don’t blame him– it’ definitely obsessive and annoying to listen to.

I’m tired of doing photography… I have a shoot Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday and I’m a little worn out from the whole ordeal. I use and quit hobbies like underwear. The shoot with Belinda went well though! I’m doing a “feminine” shoot and a “1940s” shoot this week, so I’m happy that I’m at least getting some diversity in.

Anyhow, in other news, my Nana is giving me all my birthday presents early as predicted… I feel like my birthday is a little like Hanukkah; I always get a gift per day leading up to the event. I set off for Burning Man in exactly one week from today which is terrifying. My mom scared me yesterday with porta-potty horror stories so I’m kind of worried. I need to get stuff done today though– I have a huge list of things I need to buy and accomplish before Sunday.

Scott drunk called me about 10 times and left me 3 messages on Friday night when I was out with Steven and his boo. I sent him two pretty emo texts at the end of the night about how he has people that care about him only because he sounded REALLY depressed and mentioned that he was drunk driving. The next day he called me for a 1 min. conversation in which he told me that my texts were too over-the-top and emotional, and how he didn’t remember calling me at all. I love how I’m the one who always feels like an ass.

In funnier news, my brother is vacationing in Sodona with my Dad & Co. this week, which is apparently turning out to be a disaster. The creek that he has been swimming in for the past week was shut down yesterday because E. Coli was found in it, and on top of that a dam broke near the Grand Canyon so they can’t make their final stop there… the E. Coli thing cracks me up especially, even though it’s “not funny.”

Leah left to Italy to meet up with Sleezy on other news so I won’t see her for a year. I wonder if she’ll have Italian babies someday…

One caramel macchiato too many

I’m such a compulsive person. I can’t just drink one caramel macchiato, paint one abstract, write one poem– it’s always all or nothing with me. In fact, I realized that I absolutely detest the word, “moderation.” It’s so…. sane and it makes me feel like I’m a bad human being.

I remember one time Leah and I went down to San Clemente with her father and we both had a violent urge to make s’mores… not the classy kind over a campfire either, but the white-trash “stove-top” variety. After binging on about 6 s’mores each, her rational father said, “Everything in moderation girls.” What the hell? I blushed. I wilted. My screaming appetite was muffled.

I haven’t been able to look at him the same since that trip.

Anyhow, I’m about to run out and buy more canvases. I painted three paintings yesterday:

I’m on a roll and I can’t help myself. I actually painted these for Leah since she’s leaving to France on Saturday. They are 8×11 travel-sized.

Yesterday I went rollerskating with Leah and Scott and discovered a new passion. Rollerskating is my next new “thing.” I want to take lessons when I get back to Irvine and get ridiculously good at it. I even had visions of going on MTV’s MADE (never going to happen). You just always see that one “cool” person at the rink who you secretly want to be. Last night it was this 60 something year-old black guy, who was so smooth it hurt.

I will be him someday.

*UPDATE*

Just got offered and accepted an incredible opportunity working for Creative Connections at UCI, documenting, photographing, designing, & filming.  I’m off to buy canvases and a sketch book.

does anyone else think maggie needs some reconstructive surgery?

I hate to be mean because I love her acting; but after seeing her in “Dark Night” I couldn’t help wishing that Maggie’s face wasn’t so… saggy. She’s looking an awful lot like a St. Bernard these days.

Tomorrow I head out to the beach with my brother and his two friends. I don’t know how I got conned into being nanny Danielle, but it happened. Hopefully Leah comes so when I’m declared “uncool” by my brother and consequently ditched for the day, I won’t be sitting alone, frying on the beach for 8 hours.

I watched Bachelor and the Bobbysoxer yesterday with Nana and decided that it’s time to start watching more old movies. I’m never dissapointed with a classic film, and especially ones with Carrey Grant. That is this week’s new goal: to watch three old movies each week (along with losing 2 pounds.)

Speaking of blubber, weight loss is so laughably hard I could cry (or start a meth habit). I’ve been working out an hour a day and until today I had been eating well until I binged on three slices of bread with tuna and some chocolate chips. Story of my life. Tomorrow is NOT going to be a weigh-in day. The scale can screw itself.

Meanwhile, I’ve been working on my photography, trying to put together an ad campaign to gain more interest in headshots and the like. My goal is to set up an interesting looking Myspace (eventually a website), get thousands of friends, develop new flyers for the school-year and organize some more photoshoots. Here’s one ad I did… I’m still debating over the font.

Since Scott lost my iPod, my birtday present in September is bound to be a new one, though I’m thinking of manipulating my way into getting a new lens or some equipment. Sadly, photography is not a cheap hobby: the lens I want is $600, and so I’m thinking of having my family start a fund for holidays where all I receive is money for photography stuff….

Geez, I need to stop thinking about “stuff” so much. My life is becoming so shallow and Bravo-ized. I need direction, focus, a job, a respectable lover, cash flow, good grades, clear skin, better morale, motivation, self-pride, and of course, as my dad told me in a letter, “soul.”

I figure that will come with a new lens and flash gear.

Miles- for a friend

It’s warm, like the
Charlie Brown Christmas song–
shakers and snowflakes
resembling the sensation of
you and long hours of
front seat conversations,
trying to hide dog breath
and pimples while you lean in
close and tell me
about spirals and atoms.
And there’s so much there
to play with—tones and words
and tangible snowflakes, that
it’s overwhelming: the spiral
and your voice. I want to
hold it, traveling through
tunnels and the quantum abyss
together. (But it gets complex
when you’re channeling Miles Davis.)