At least you took the time

Happy Birthday to You,

reads the card in blue

beneath a framed Yosemite.

First time in 20 years

I felt the sting of just a card

with barbed names along a line.

At least you took the time, I thought,

To sign the card (it would’ve been blank)

as I hear the car drive off

and cry over candles and cake.

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.

“Run your bloomin’ arse!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Bumping into my stepmom, Dad and brothers at Disneyland tonight while standing in line waiting for the final tram, was probably the most awkward, heart-wrenching moment of my life thus far. I knew they were at the park the whole day; it was one of those weird coincidences: Cynthia and I planned this out about a week prior, and then my brother informed me the night before that they were also going the same day.

I initially thought and prepared to bump into them right away, but as the day went by and as I was keeping track of their location via text messages with David and his friend, Steven, it seemed like we were frequenting opposite ends of the park at the same times and all was safe. So at the end of the night, waiting in a hoard of people during a mass exodus from Disney, I wasn’t prepared to see my family walk up in the same line where the trams pick us up.

‘Awkward’ hardly describes it, though luckily I specialize in acting calm during those moments of extreme tension and terror. I saw my Dad and went in for a hug, said “hi” to Monica and hugged my brothers. After seven minutes of waiting for the tram along with EXTREMELY strained conversation between David, Christian (who now thinks I’m the devil) and Steven, I said goodbye, got on the tram and held back the flood until I got to the the parking lot. Cynthia said, “In my entire life, I have NEVER seen an adult act like your stepmom just did.” (Monica basically ignored both of us, turning her back and whispering with my Dad.

Everyone keeps asking me, “Why don’t you simply apologize to your stepmom so you can see your Dad and brother again?” and I explained to Cynthia that the situation is sort of like the War in Iraq: I can pull out the troops and apologize until I’m hoarse, but bottom line is that there is still a huge fucking mess to clean up which will take lots of time and emotional wear-and-tear. I have the cajones to apologize for nothing, but I don’t have the balls to deal with yet another season of passion aggression, criticisms and disapprovals. Plus, it’s not like my mother’s family, where emotional abuse is sort of like our “grace” before dinner. Once when I was in 3rd grade I came home to find my entire bedroom on the front lawn– signaling that my grandma was pissed at me. We were all fine by the next day. But this isn’t how the Palomares family operates. It’s built around a complex system of passive aggression, grudges, patriarical control, Conservatism, and subtlety. It’s all very classy and mind-fucking. And this is where most of the conflicts have stemmed from. I don’t think either side is particularly “correct,” (being raised by Nana caused its fair share of damage) but since I have adopted more of the bing-batta-boom Ordunio punch, I’m always getting in trouble at the Gavotte.

This whole stalemate between my Dad and me is taking its toll, though I’m realizing that the most painful situations often leave you numb rather than impassioned. It’s only during random moments– driving to Target or editing a headshot– that I start to break down in random bursts of tears and remember that my Dad won’t be calling me in a week for my birthday.

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.

Did we just pull a Tinkerbell?

To say that the Olympic Opening Ceremony 2008 was amazing would be an understatement, but have we really just pulled a Tinkerbell??

I’m not going to lie and say that I didn’t shed a few tears during the program, but when this happened, I couldn’t stop laughing. There’s something strange about a big, beefy Olympian flying around magically with fire. What’s next?? Maybe in 2010 Yao Ming will fly in on a jet pack.

By the way, did anyone else catch President Bush looking completely bored and checking his watch during the procession? That man can’t get in front of a camera without looking like a fool. Classy George. Real classy.

one more:

Oh, and I have two more criticisms, and only two: Sarah? Brightman???

I am on a creative roll

A couple of new creations, plus I wrote a song and painted three new paintings… WOOO. Social isolation does WONDERS. I’m getting happier and happier with my photography too, though mainly my Photoshoping skills. Hopefully in a few more months I will have a new: tripod, lens cap, lens and lighting kit.

FINALLY, a new poem

You will forget those ties un-hemmed:

You will forget those ties
un-hemmed, even through torn photos
and shards of glass from the smash
against the wall. “Time heals all” but
there’s still a mess to mind and
who has time nowadays to cast a thread
to fix the damage that’s been done?

I’m dreaming of cheesecake

This Cleanse is disgusting– I want to skewer my eyeballs out. I’m just going to compulsively weigh myself for motivation, even though what I really want to do is eat 2 dozen Italian cookies and all of my Nana’s lemon bar cheesecake stash.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

old haikus and a new book

I’m going to write a book… I don’t know specifics, but it’s going to be about life– my life specifically and my family tales of old. I figure, why not? It dawned on me that I have A LOT of old journal entries, saved conversations from AIM, tons of fucked up family dramas to exploit and sappy stuff that’s bound to amuse. If people don’t like it, screw them. I know it’ll be entertaining.

It’s all a matter of compiling it in an understandable way. I’m thinking it’ll be separated in themed sections, or it will go chronologically. Maybe I’ll just throw everything together for a big life collage. I want it to have photos, conversations, memoirs, poetry and stories. eew. It kind of sounds like a nasty soccer-mom scrapbook…

I need to think this through some more…

Anyhow, during the height of my hormonal teen years (wait–I’m still in them technically) custody battles and family warfare, I wrote these haikus. I think they are fucking brilliant for lost-and-found haikus. They sort of summarize my life experience from age 13-16.

DMV nightmare
waiting in bleak endless line
for “come back later”

Parents armed for war,
in child support battlefield-
with greasy lawyers…
Californian dreams!
Look! big time hollywood stars-
and overpriced rent.

Taco truck business
not producing needed cash.
Where are the tacos?

Permit sinks in sky
as mom says the dreaded “no…
“I can’t afford it”

Time, clicks by slowly
monotonous Mr. Guy
thinks his goatee’s cool

Mustang fantasies,
red and black within my dreams-
heat, in the back seat?