Lost Time

Holy shit.

I had a birthday. I kinda keep forgetting that, except not really because it was pretty awesome. Hmm, I'm 27 and still saying 'awesome' . . . is there anything wrong with that?

Absolutely fucking not.

What is wrong is my job, which I am working on changing as soon as humanly possible. In the meantime I am discovering the joys of medical terminology.

27 is already shaping up to be better than 26. I'm making books again (instead of just stuck on one for the cousin) and just finished a sketchbook for Igor.

The boards before being attached to the textblock.

I should've gotten a shot of the spine before I handed the thing over, it's an exposed and stripy thing that looks like it isn't attached to a thing. It's quite a becoming spine if I do say so.

I can't seem to sleep tonight

This is in my head

and I can't figure out how to finish it . . .

Geekiness and Death

A lot has happened since the last time I wrote - which is why i haven't posted anything. But now that I'm feeling a little sick I have some time on my hands to just sit and catch up on things. I hate disease, but everything has it's purpose, right?

Where to start? Oh, how bout with good news. I finally finished my cousin's cloth book and after all the months of almost being done with it, I am pretty proud of myself. All the stitching and half-failed galaxies that turned out to be successful after all in a jagged spiral sort of way.


just before assembly



two of my favorite pages

The Book


Now that I am done with the thing, I feverishly think of the books I will construct next.


Okay, the news I'd rather wasn't news: I am now, as of memorial day weekend, grandfatherless. Both my grandfathers died within 48 hours of each other, neither was in very good health, but it was still a weird shock. Bye grandpa and grandpop, i love you both.

On Memorial Monday, when i heard that my grandfather (mother's side) was dead i was at an awesome vintage/knick-knack/custom-pine-furniture store in the Hollywood, down in the old magazine sections. I was browsing the sci-fi/fantasy mags when my mom called. For all those who don't know, my grandfather was a *huge* science fiction geek who knew authors, went to conventions and was one of the people responsible for founding First Fandom on the west coast - oh, and early scientology leaflets were printed in the shed in his backyard, before L. Ron Hubbard when the whole thing was still only a bet between other sci-fi geeks to see if you could just start up a new religion. So for me to be standing in that section, clutching an issue of 'Beyond' when I found out about his death was somehow perfect. I bought the magazine I was holding at the time of mom's call.

Alright, back to good news: I had a kick-ass 4th of July. Why? Kids. At my friend Chris' bbq I helped supervise a gaggle of the most adorable, crazy kids while they waved, threw and danced delightedly around fireworks. And so I have discovered there is nothing so fun and so terrifying as watching children with fireworks.

Of Codeine Syrups and Clerks

It's been brought to my attention that I have yet to tell everyone about my new job. Since I've been off for the last two days because of strep throat and I have gained some perspective (I only started a month ago), I think I can truthfully talk about it.

I am a file clerk, which to me sounds almost as cool as saying I am a notary. So, do I have a short history of file clerks for you? No I don't, wikipedia doesn't have an entry for 'file clerk'. There is an entry on 'clerk' that starts "The word clerk, derived from the Latin clericus meaning 'cleric', i.e. clergyman ", then "In British English, although spelt clerk, the word is pronounced as if spelt with an 'a' (i.e. clark)." And for those who might be interested in being a clerk in Holland, "The cognate terms in some languages, e.g. Klerk in Dutch, became restricted to a specific, fairly low rank in the administrative hierarchy." Just so you know. (Oh, and in the U.K. there is a Clerk of the Closet. Yeah, that's right.)

Because I'm that way, I also did an image search for 'file clerk' and this is what was returned:


a)


b) c) d)

e) f)
g)


Image Key
a) clip art - okay, i get it (sort of)
b) i really hope i'm not a file clerk as long as the good Mr. Pekar and that i get famous younger
c) yeah, because that's just how i look when i'm sorting files (dirty, dirty files)
d) i have actually looked this happy when i found a file. why?
e) because this is a good approximation of the state of the offices files - just imagine about seven different offices, three hallways, a closed file room and two basement storage units worth of these files and you'll get an idea of how hard it is to find a file when it's not where it's supposed to be. which happens more than it should.
f) this is what i wished the files in the office looked like. ah, so orderly and categorized with that old-timey cabinetry goodness.
g) i have no idea. official file clerk swimming attire?

In conclusion, I am underpaid and overqualified and enjoying this job more than most others that I've had. What can i say? I like filing.

I do have plans to make the lawyers realize they need a full time records manager for the amount of files that they have and that it really is critical that they start to digitize records (a project I would be more than qualified to oversee) and include vital administrative information, like location of the file, in the existing database.


Okay, I'm off to take some more penicillin and codeine cough syrup (mmm, opiates).

Close Your Eyes and Pretend I Posted This a Week Ago

Ah, the sea. I haven't been saying that enough lately, and I certainly have not been out to the coast enough for any Goonie-esqu adventures or otherwise.

All that changed at the end of April when we took my friend Sara to the beach for her birthday. Caitlin (Sara's sister) and Ariel rented seaside rooms for the trip and we fell asleep each night and woke up each day with the sound of waves in our ears. Sigh.

The point on the coast we went to was Rockaway Beach, which sounds like a 1950's beach-blanket movie (you know the kind where wholesome, middle-class kids are just tryin' to have a rockin' time by the surf and then this obviously lower-class gang who wears leather jackets with their swimming trunks comes and tries to ruin the party - then, instead of coming to an understanding about the hardships of the class struggle and dispelling socio-economic stereotypes, the wholesome kids win the high stake dance-off and reclaim the beach for the fun-loving bourgeoisie everywhere).

That was not what our trip to the beach was like, it was much cooler. Here it is:

We arrived on Friday evening as it was growing dark. The sky was overcast, there was spray in the cold air and we had three bottles of wine to tide us over until Emily arrived with the other dozen bottles for the weekend.

We were staying in the Silver Sands. There were useful signs in the room such as this one that said something like, "Do Not Put Personal Items on Stove, Fire Will Result." We promptly decided to place many personal items on the stove before we left. We forgot to even place one before leaving.

In the cup is not tea or coffee or coco, but wine. Whenever you spot a white mug in a picture, it probably has wine in it. I'll give anyone a prize who can tell me how many mugs of wine I drank over the course of the weekend (no, seriously, I'd like to know).

The next day the sun was out, but it took us a while to get outside.

(Ariel did not leave the hotel room at all that day.)

When we did get outside, it was glorious.

Sounds weird, but I'd forgotten about the sea. No, not like I forgot that it was there, or that I stopped reading my geeky maritime books (for all of those interested in the depths of my geekiness, yes, I did just look up 'nautical' and 'maritime' to make sure I was using the correct term) (again, for those interested, nautical pertains more to ships, sailing or seamen - ha, seamen - while maritime is relating to or "of the sea"), I'd forgotten how it smells and sounds and how it makes people feel and how amazing it is. I love the sea.

There were many walks, a cheezy tourist shop called Flamingo Jim's, there was a jacuzzi and swimming pool (for all those not from a northern coastal region, yes it is necessary to have alternate swimming options because sometimes it's just too fucking cold to swim off the Oregon coast - that didn't matter to us when we were teenagers, but now none of us are so keen to get that awesome blue skin tone). And most of all, there was wine. Again, any time you see a white mug in a picture, it has wine in it.

wine

Wine

W-I-N-E


Here are some other things:

the dog I met on the beach who i wanted to kidnap because it was so adorable (and its owner was not paying attention to it)


the night the light in the room attracted Caitlin to it like a moth . . . a dancin' robot moth

The creepy coastal church that for some reason reminded me of the Omen.



Oh and the moment I obtained the power of flight and flew feet first out to the horizon



Then it was time to leave.
Sara wore the most amazing hippie dress and on the way home, when we stopped to view a historical train, we played a game. Sara called it "Hippies in Distress"
I called it good, clean fun (I was pretending I'd just detached a car full of hippies from the back of the train, sending them to their doom, I guess that's why Sara's so upset).

The train was in Garibaldi and it was awesome. According to the Garibaldi Oregon Resource Guide, what we were gawking at was the "Lion's Lumbermen's Park and antique train display" - which explains why we couldn't go into the train because it is actually the Lion's den or clubhouse or whatever they call it. It does not explain why there was a creepy, half-seen manikin in the caboose.


And I didn't even notice that weird little porcelain midget in the corner.
I think the "Lumberman's Park" part of the thing was supposed to be these arranged, hanging chainsaws.

Ah, unsettling, just the way I like my history.

I took a lot of pictures of the train because I go a little nuts over historical sites - okay, okay, I get really overexcited and have been known to squeal and clap my hands in a school girlish type way. So, moving on . . .

On the way home we also tried to find the watery ruins of Bay Ocean. Situated in a bay just west of Tillamook, Bay Ocean was once a quaint little coastal town that by the turn of the century had a bathhouse, main street and even (so the legend goes) a bowling alley. Then the evil Army Corp. of Engineers came to town and fucked up some damn project, which caused thr water in the bay to rise. Everything flooded, even the bowling alley, and the residents were forced to flee. Emily tells the story better (she has a special hatred for the Army Corp. of Engineers), but the point is the town was left to rot in its aquatic grave.


Yeah, we couldn't find any trace of the ruins either, and Emily was pretty sure we were at the right bay. Anyway, it was beautiful.

As Sara's hippie dress billowed in the wind, we said goodbye to our coastal adventure and to each other (I didn't ask anyone to pose for this picture, they just stood this way naturally - honest).
Then on the way home Sara, Caitlin and I stopped at the gas station of the Great Mullet (so called because the gas station attendant had the most epic mullet ever) and tried to get the Oriental Pleasure Ring out of the dispenser in the bathroom- which is surprisingly elusive, Sara and I tried multiple times and we didn't even get the full "Erotic Kit". So, I was only able to bring back the questionably flavored arousal lotion and something else equally unsexy as gifts.

Well, that was our trip - of course it wasn't all of the trip, I left out a lot or else this post would have been three or five times as long and very, very boring. And what did I learn from this whole experience? Three things: One, I need the sea in my life and will one day retire to a city on the coast; Two, I should go swimming more and; Three, I want a club house on a historical train because it looks rad.




P.S. By the way, best unintentional impersonation of the weekend goes to Emily for her unintentional impersonation of a beatnik (I think it was unintentional)

Strangers like to make random comments to me at awkward times.

The other day I was downtown eating a sandwich in a deli and making notes in my makeshift schedule book. These two guys in their 70s, who had been eating at the next table, got up and stopped as they walked by my table.

The first guy: Hey, you need help scribbling anything down? I can write something in that little black book of yours. I have a pen.
Me: Excuse me?
The Second Guy: He's just after your sandwich.
Me: Well he's not getting that either.
-Both men laugh and exit-

For years I have asked, 'Why me?' I don't look friendly, I do my best to scowl and ignore people when I'm alone. When someone says something to me on the street, I sometimes pretend I'm deaf or that I have no tongue and can't answer back. I find a good method of avoiding conversation is staring blankly at a person for a moment before answering. After that they think twice about asking another question.

Taxes and the Suburbs

This is a little poem I made up the other night while I was trying to do my taxes:
I'm doing taxes, I hate taxes
Used to love taxes
Cause I got all my money back
Now I have to pay instead
Stupid Independent Contractor status
I'm broke, oh so broke
I hate taxes

On Wednesday I went out to Lake Oswego for an interview. When we had lunch and I told Igor where I had gone he said, "Oh, you mean 'Lake No-Negro'?" I was wondering why I was getting stared at so much. I usually have a strong, physical dislike to places like Lake Oswego (for those not from these parts, Lake Oswego is one of the rich suburbs of Portland - people like to say places like Lake Oswego are 'in the Portland metro area', but that's just a pretty name for the 'burbs).

Despite the fact I hate Lake Oswego and am really glad I wasn't brought up to want to live in a place like it, I actually had a pretty interesting time going out there and coming back. There was a guy on the return bus that looked like a younger, tough Lyle Lovett and I couldn't help but stare at the natural pompadour his hair made. Fascinating. I wrote down more while I was on the bus, but I've misplaced the thing I wrote in.

*Temporal Note: I'm actually posting this on April 12th*

What has the IFL got that I haven't

On Monday night I was sitting at home , watching the IFL and feeling pretty useless. That’s the International Fight League for those who don’t know (it's only international because there's one team from Tokyo, even though most of that team is made up of Americans). There's even a team from Oregon, The Wolfpack - grrrrr! Watching Monday night Fox programing is kinda depressing and made me aware of every precious second of my life I was wasting. I was also playing a computer game - but saving the universe from the dark side of the Force is not the kind of productive that makes the world a better place. It was so bad that I was looking at the IFL fighters and feeling crappy that they've done more with their lives than I have. IFL fighters, the rejects of the Ultimate Fighting Championship, were making me feel like a loser. Some days are worse than others.

Yesterday I should have done more to get my little scooter insured , should have packed some - but I worked until 5:30 and then had to take a shower and go shopping. The little things always take up so much time, the minutiae of day to day life, and all my big plans tend to get pushed aside.

So, today I tried to break the cycle of inactivity and feeling useless. I went into the office for most of the day (even got all pur-teed up in a fancy skirt and my cowboy boots), came home and washed the dishes, packed some more while watching Tron, actually responded to some emails and sewed some more of the cloth book for my cousin (yes, I have been working on that since December). Oh and the best thing I did today . . . bought a rad helmet to wear when i ride my scooter.

I have to wait until it's mailed to me to try it on, but as long as it's big enough for all my hair, i will have one bitchin' helmet.

*And* I came to the decision that I need to clarify some of my personal feelings - figuring out how I'm going to do that will have to wait until tomorrow.

Now a quote from one of the IFL's champion fighters:
"I like to punch my opponents in the face because people in the audience like that, it really seems to get people excited."

yup

I wrote this on Friday:

The end of the week and I feel pretty damn weak. Taxes, job interviews, scooters with white reflective paint, killer nuns and museum antics. I am done with this week - I just really hope it's done with me.

Me and Annalisa found a house that's going to work for us. We move on the 24th and I cannot wait to get out of this old house. Aside from the fact that it is on the fringes of what can be considered the city of Portland, it's also at the ass end of nowhere. Although, I'm starting to see more and more hipsters shuffling around Foster, so give it a few years and the yuppies will move in to gentrify everything.

Movies for me this week included "Killer Nun", a disturbing Italian film Igor gave me to watch. It's the kind of movie that made me laugh and then cover my eyes. A critical look at the Catholic church and repression, while also being the cheesiest thing I've seen in a while. I know they're nuns, but do they have to be so dramatic?

In secular news, I am now the proud owner of a 1987 Honda Spree, or, the tiniest street-legal scooter ever.

It was cheap, but it still needs its rear tire replaced, a new battery and one side mirror before it's ready for the open road (not to mention tags and insurance). I haven't even paid for it yet and I'm already trying to think up names for it. I'm thinking along the lines of Number 5, Fizgig, or Muffit. I'm thinking cheezy 80's Sci-Fi movie characters . . . any suggestions?

[I've since picked it up and it's now sitting at my house waiting to be loved. I think I freaked out unnecessarily about picking it up. I wanted to get the whole thing over with and it was stressing me out so I was really weird about the whole thing. Sorry to anyone I freaked out by being freaked out.]

Today was a blur of crappiness (I forgot keys to the off-site museum storage on the day I was supposed to let three groups of people in to look at the collection), followed by a weird interview out at Mt. Hood Community College. Why was I not aware that Gresham is so friggin' far away? Or that it's a totally different culture? I wore what I felt were comfortable, acceptable interview clothes - until I got outside city limits. Alright, call me a snob or an elitist, but I'll freely admit when I'm outside my comfort zone. Still, the people in the HR office were nice so I don't think I'd mind working out there. I think the interview went okay, but I can never tell. I hate interviews, mainly because it's really tiring to try and care what people think about you for a twenty-minute interview. Anyway, I have to wait until next week to find out if I was picked for the job or not.

So, another riveting, intermittent instalment of my life has come to a close and what have I learned: I enjoy movies about psychotic nuns, there's a vehicle out there for everyone, and I hate trying to impress someone.

Today: Good fucking riddance to a crappy week. Everything was made better last night when I went to the Delta Cafe with Annalisa, her sister and Shauna. An Old Fashioned and some southern fried catfish makes the world alright.

next week

so, i'm not so good at this blog thing - most of the time i forget that i even have one and only manage a post once a month or so. but this will change! i'll start posting once a week. i'll have interesting stuff to write about. i'll have projects and insights and revelations!

but not this week.

january is dead, long live february

i've been buried in work and projects and sickness (specifically sinus crap and food poisoning) and have been shunning most human contact . . . but now i am clawing my way back on top of the things i want and need to do. before the end of this month i need to have made serious progress towards getting a new job, doing my taxes, finding the scooter of my dreams and sorting through all my crap so i can get rid of some of it before i move again.

first, a look at my last week in january:
i went to san francisco and saw friends i hadn't seen in way too long. we took pictures - and then took pictures of ourselves taking pictures. i like pictures.


i also took pictures of my friend Kaz's crotch apparently.

then i took pictures of other people taking pictures of various body parts.


i drank blue light for power

the next day i got food poisoning, but there are no pictures of after i got it because no one wants to see that.

i'm currently brushing up on my stuffed animal taxidermy and voodoo rituals.

Crafty giving (and bad puns - the result of hanging out with my family)

So, another year of celebrating the birth of our lord and savior with compulsory gift giving has come and gone. I was down at my grandma's house in California for the holiday and, as my grandma constantly reminded everyone, "We don't celebrate Christmas because we don't believe in all that Christian stuff. We celebrate a gift giving, family loving holiday." Then she promptly sacrificed two goats and a human baby. Sigh, if only.

There was a lot of talk of death as my grandpa is 96 and within the last year has really slipped away from us mentally. He's still stubborn and kinda snarky, but now he can't do anything for himself except mess with his electric recliner (which, if you don't watch him, he will tip himself out of). It's hard watching my grandpa, who was once one of the smartest people I knew, just sit in his chair all day and sleep for the most part (he can't even read anymore, which was pretty much his life). The trip wasn't really depressing though. I helped go through some of grandpa's old books and papers. Among other things I found some hilarious scientology literature (apparently scientology kinda started in my grandparents' back shed where a lot of the old school science fiction fans used to meet and put together fanzines).

I made gifts for everyone (using 'made' in the loosest sense of the word because some of the gifts are yet to be made). Making gifts isn't as cheap as it used to be when I was five and could glue a shitload of glitter to a piece of paper and call it good.

Below are a sample of the gifts that took some effort and most of a week to complete.

Mom's concertina




Aunt and Uncle's concertinas


I love the concertina binding because it only takes about a half hour (not counting drying time) to make each book. The two above took a little longer because I made my own book cloth for the covers.

Grandma's Pamphlet



And Zay's portfolio


Unfortunately I never took a picture of the finished portfolio, but it turned out as well as I expected (especially considering I did it guerrilla style - that's right, I didn't need no stinking pattern)(not that there is really any comparison between being a guerrilla and making irregularly formed gifts for people).

I made my grampa some small pillows that I have no pictures of as I finished them on Christmas Eve.

I still have two gifts to complete: a cloth book and a trinket/coin box. Yay! Fabric, baubles and Enviro Tech polymer!

Is it really almost New Year's again? Huh, I have no clue what I'm going to do for New Year's Eve - and thinking about New Year's resolutions makes my head hurt.