Holiday: Family

Mama and Dadda are sick with the flu.
Miss you this Thanksgiving.

fun song, light-hearted, ok?
(Mama--you have to click on the title, it's a surprise link!)


;)

monday: do your exercises

Point Blank
et cetera. My mother promised
us a quilt and I bought flannel
sheets, down
comforter.
But that's beside the

Bathtime, bedtime. Brushed teeth.
I just wanted a lullabye
softly singed.
sung,
whatever.

living within means (even scanty ones) responsibly

And onto other obsessions (the concept of which has recently been begging for a closer look, possibly to come in a later entry): living small. One thing I have always taken issue with about Park City is the luxury, extravagance, and waste. Jeremy Ranch, the neighborhood across from Pinebrook, where I spent my summer living in a shared space of 440 sq. feet, and one door (to the bathroom), is exemplary (others include the Deer Valley area, homes on PC or Canyons Resorts, for the strongest cases, although pretty much any neighborhood in Park City is subject to the quite wasteful trend) of enormous (5k and 6k+) square feet of space for two people, orrr two people half the year. It blows my mind.

I prefer the alternative: tiny-ness. Living in less than 1,000 sq. feet. As a home.












Ok ok, so living in a quasi-studio-more-like-half-assed-mother-in-law-suite/postage-stamp space this summer was tough, but it wasn't a space designed for tiny living, and I'm quite proud of the way Sarah and I handled it (with minimal panic). However, these spaces are.
I'm just showing pictures here, follow the links (1, 2, 3, and 4) for elaboration.
Oh sure, it's an adjustment of lifestyle, and not for everyone (specifically more difficult for families with children!), but what genius! what simplicity that still meets all needs!

I think the tiny-house concept is really all about 1) living responsibly. Carbon footprints notwithstanding, America's standard of living is not just "comfortable", it is, comparatively (when looking at the earth's resources, not to mention how little one is capable of living with and on) hogging. Yeah, I used hogging as a descriptor, get over it. But also, the tiny-house concept is about 2) paring down to sustainable simplicity, which I've become on quite familiar terms with of late. And really enjoy. So, no pontification here, no lectures or condescension: I just love this concept of tiny-houses, and love sharing ideas.

(links and photos courtesy of our lovely google search engine)

in love

So igoogle has this really nice customizable homepage, which I'm sure is familiar, and I've got a gadget on mine that's an "artist of the day." For me, it's hit or miss, but I think that I may have to start saving up for serious art investments after yesterday's Yvette Molina. I seriously want to live within her paintings. Fuh-Evah.

protection obsession

So it's not *really* cold yet here in Utah. Lows are in the 20s, highs between the 30s and 50s. Some snow, little wind, pretty much bliss actually. Sweater-weather without the bite that January and February (at least of last year) have (had) in the mountains.

I was speaking with a grocer at the local natural foods store (Fairweather Natural Foods...They don't have their own website) the other day, and she was telling me about how, last year during Sundance when she was waiting for the bus, her eyelashes broke off, and she watched them fall onto her jacket. Whoa. Then, when I was retelling that story to a couple who recently moved to Park City from Chicago, one of them replied, "Oh yeah, that's what all of winter is like in Chicago."
(Needless to say, I shat my pants. Figuratively. Mostly).
And since, I have been obsessively looking at coats that I can't afford. Such as these.

JLo's Double-breasted hooded wool coat. Delicious.




A Steve-madden wool-blend.




Mmm and my favorite: Ellen Tracy Wool-Cashmere blend with that little stand-up collar.

Sighhhh.

Oh, well. My mama's knitting me socks. That's something at least (I'll post pictures of those when she finishes with them).

All lusting after winterwear done via www.overstock.com.

sweet freedom

I may have a penchant for skinny dipping, but that's neither here nor there. Unless you invite me to a warm ocean for the weekend...

I have, in the last three weeks, sold or given away my car, my bike, my snowboard (and gear), all my furniture and household items (leaving me with clothes, and books only). And it has actually been freeing.

I'm looking forward to paring down my life even more when I leave the country, whenever that may be. Now, at least, it's unexpectedly pleasant to feel like a nomad.

(The photo-post-card courtesy of Lina Valenzuela, who designed it herself, and then sent it out as a college graduation announcement this past August. Beautiful!)

twelve years ago

"Damaged Goods"

My eleventh birthday,
from San
Luis Obispo he brought it me.
It stuck
above my sink, those
two mirror-words in
pink and orange script.
My mother would
squint her nose, "I don't
like it," and brush
out, shaking her head.
"We're none of us perfect" was
the surf-shop story he told, I
remember:
weekend travels and his eyes
that sadness haunts heavy these years.

Here at the Right Time

turned off

It would seem that after approximately twenty minutes re-researching graduate schools and programs, I am fed up.

This does not bode well for my future career in academia. You know, the one that I so violently shook off 1.4 years ago when I ditched all thoughts of graduate school in exchange for snowshoeing and (ahhh) hiking.

Trouble is, I keep coming back to it. March of 2008 I was set on applying for Fall 2009 admission. Only three months later, I said "screw that sh*t" (ahem, in a most composed and academic fashion) for the idea of expatriating and getting my hands dirty (probably very literally) serving underprivileged communities in third world countries (this the idea most currently in the works). Still, oh classrooms and research and theses!--I can't get you off my mind! I get lured back into the tantalizing prospect of incorporating words like "heteronormativization" into my everyday vocabulary, and using "culturally sanctioned" as an adverbial modifying phrase to describe concepts like "binary systems" or "phobias constructed on a false matrix of exclusivity". Ha. But seriously.

So I start researching again: graduate certificates, M.S.W.s, M.A.s, M.Ed.s, M.S.es, whatevers.
To be completely truthful: it is the suggestion of snobbery that turns me away, each time. The obsessions with prestige, the competitions for "best-ranking program," the requirements of already having an M.A. (for some graduate certificates), etc. And it's never more than a suggestion, to be sure. Subtlety is a well-learned skill of the prestigious...and pretentious.

To be short, there is something so repulsive about the entitlement that (traditionally) accompanies successive degrees that I continue to turn away. I wanna be able to use those big words, and I'm almost very nearly seduced by the prospect that I have, on multiple occasions, began the application process. And although I recognize that I eventually would need another degree to have the career I'd love to pursue, I (at this point) cannot bring myself to ...what I feel, if I examine it honestly: sell out.

So I'm back to here, and here, and here.

Suggestions on how to slake my grad-school-lust, or how, if I ever get admitted and enrolled to a program, to hold in humility my understanding and efforts at changing the world, remembering that I don't know everything (or much) are welcome. (Read: "halp!")

At this point, however, I feel pretty screwed.

Bedroom Scenes

Ok, so I know this scene is set in a kitchen, but these moments of mis-communication and missed trains and all the things that fall through the cracks is the kind of thing I used to want to write about. I don't know now, what I want to write about. But these conversations still tug.

INT. KITCHEN - WITHERS HOME - NIGHT
Gill and Clare are eating dinner. Actually eating together.
Trout, peas, potatoes.

CLARE
This is me trying.
GILL
And it’s nice, right?
CLARE
Nice? Do you know that I think about killing myself on a regular basis, now?
GILL
I hear you and I’m validating you by saying that I think about it constantly, but the truth is this too shall pass.
CLARE
That I would too.
GILL
And then so would I, in an alcohol induced coma.

He grabs her hand.

GILL (CONT’D)
But we’re two rational, intelligent people that can overcome anything as long as we do it together. She takes her hand back to eat and takes a bite of food.
CLARE
You know, people who believe in God say things like God let our baby die to save her from something more horrible in the future.
GILL
I think we’ve reached our quota for horrible this year.
CLARE
We did. But maybe she was saved. From us raising her. We were going to raise her. We were her future.
So maybe there’s something wrong with us.
GILL
Why go there? Why not maybe there’s a meteor headed for earth? Or global warming? That’s pretty
horrible.
CLARE
Or, nuclear holocaust, I guess too?
GILL
Exactly.
CLARE
Tsunami?
GILL
We’re a little far from the beach, but good. Come on, one more.
CLARE
Divorce.

Gill, hurt.

GILL
Yeah. That too.
CLARE
I’m sorry.

Gill stands.

GILL
You coulda said red dwarf.
CLARE
You mean the sun burning out --
GILL
That’s pretty horrible too.

Gill walks out with his food. Clare drops her head.

(Thanks to JVH for sharing his screenplay Close to Me with me)

Mountains

I'm leavin' them soon, so thought I'd post pics of my drive to work today:

foggy

foggy

suddenly clear.