Roxy's World

Revamping

2010-06-11T16:21:00.003-04:00

About to revamp, repost and rewrite some of the entries on this site. Missing the writing life a bit and am considering relaunch.

Because seriously, I love talking about me.

Spinning

2010-02-28T10:13:00.003-05:00

In my dream last night, I was a ballet dancer.

I entered the room - feet taped for spinning - and pirouetted to a slow, sweet song that I know now I invented. We had floor to ceiling windows and a different life in my dream. It was warm with no chance of snow.

Sometimes, when I'm in the phase where I'm sleeping more than spending the nights ticking off time in my head and hallucinating about work, I am treated to these visions that give me a different perspective of who I am and who I want to be. This has been happening a lot lately. I'm not sure if it is because my day life is so stressful, and so not where I thought I would be or if I'm about to undergo a renaissance of sorts and rebirth myself into a new life.

To say that I am changing again would be trite because I have never stopped changing, just had pockets of time that stalled. What is difficult to know is that during these phases where I thought I still had time to reinvent myself I lost minutes that seeped into hours that changed into days that melted into years.

And we all know how time passes - slowly in a blink of an eye. As days shift, I don't think about how I haven't been to Europe in 3 years or how the homeless man I saw on the beach in Ft. Lauderdale last week has a beautiful, sad perspective on the world. I think about meetings and deadlines and my next big mistake. I think about my vanity and how my house is a beautiful cold reflection of a life I'm trying to make perfect. In doing so, I have failed miserably.

At the end of the day, I want to be consumed with the thought that I'm on my way to somewhere divine - maybe to Greece or to make the perfect egg sandwich for my lover or to my alternate life where I take the time to spin like a ballet dancer.

More things to add to the 100...

2008-07-03T00:55:00.004-04:00

What it would take to build a printer for the images in my head.
If it is truly gone this time, or if the worry will return.
Creativity.

How the future looks.

When the answer comes.
Why Justin Timberlake thinks he's the only one bringing sexy back (yeah).

How many turning points are left.

When I'll get to Germany, NC, and Arizona to meet all the new little stars who have been born to my friends.
How never to have blisters again (aka, "Why high heels are so popular")

Where my favorite pajama pants ended up.

If those little things are really big things.

What the Meerkats are up to right now.

How to get rid of the memories of that damn book that plagues my soul.

If you are still here with me.
If I'll even know when you're gone.

My direction.
If there is ever going to be something new under the sun, or if we've already invented it all.

The true effect of all those germ killing soaps, sprays, and wipes.
Self appreciation.

If I'll ever get pregnant.

How to celebrate more, and worry less.
If you were banging your head against the seat because of me, or because of you.
When you'll see that the drugs don't work.
How fast I could be at the beach if I left right now.
If Pat O'Brien will ever go back into Rehab.
Why it isn't easy to give up those material things.
If Elvis needs a friend.
Forgiveness.

How to feel satisfied, but not complacent.

What Harry Potter and Tony Soprano are doing.
If there comes a time in life when things just don't seem like a big deal anymore.

What sunset looks like in the Maldives in person.
How to work my camera.

When we'll laugh together again.
If it will make a damn bit of difference if I throw out every last piece of paper in my office without looking at it.
The way to motivate myself to get up in time for that middle of the night meteor shower.
How to cultivate a cohesive style.
If I'll ever have willpower.

Why you even emailed me.
Where the rewind button is.
If it was hard for you to become that cold and detached.
How to be a better manager - of people, of myself.
The way to cultivate a quiet mind.

How the Akumal turtles are faring.

Si voy a tener la convicción suficiente para dominar español.
What's out there.

How to celebrate me.
Why the phone didn't ring.
If I should stay or if I should go.

What my dog is trying to say.

In that time, when the bomb drops, if I'll walk toward the explosion like I planned or away from it.
When I got so serious.

Buddhism.

Adaptability.

How to compost.

Convincing German.
How Mamma and Gram enjoyed Rob's wedding.
When my brother and sister in law will spawn a niece or nephew for me to adore.
Who let the dogs out.
If I'll cave to pressure for plastic surgery when I'm older.
How the patterns are woven into sea coral.
What the psychic will say.
When I'll make the time.
If I should redecorate in a goth theme. (not)
Simple beauty.
If I can make it for 3 days like Remi is doing.
If my neighbors can see me when I'm dancing around my house.
Why the hell you just stopped talking to me.
How many Mardi Gras beads I have in my bag.
The Northern Lights - and if they'll wave to me when I visit.
Why we can't figure out universal healthcare.
If I should patent bubble wrap as a therapeutic technique.
How to throw pottery.
If I'll ever get pictures from my wedding printed.
Who will wise up and stop killing the desert?
If we'll wise up and stop polluting our world.
What a balanced budget (my own) feels like.
Why winter feels so long, and summer so short.
How to pick the perfect cantaloupe.
Why time marches on.
Where my sense of adventure ventured to.
A brand new song.

Turtling

2008-04-20T16:29:00.003-04:00

It was gorgeous there.

I thought I would be knee deep in crystalline waters, but didn't realize how much it would feel like home.

That forever sky - azure, for sure - can't remember the last time I saw so much horizon.

Virginia is beautiful. Trees and hues of greens from olive to near sunlight. But those trees and the thick overgrowth of spring block the view of the long thin line of the horizon.

On the beaches of Akumal, we watched the sea turtles as they came in to make the next generation. The clouds moved rapidly across the ocean, forming and disappearing within minutes. I brought books, magazines, journals, but spent most of the time just staring. The intricate moves of waves, swirling water, jumbled coral nesting in the sand, the backs of fishing boats.

I swear the horizon was silver - then blue - then gold...

I just needed to see past myself again to realize that I am not the big picture.

Chain of Love

2008-02-29T18:52:00.005-05:00

I am obsessive.

This is something I have always known about myself but probably wouldn't change even if I could.

Right now, I am totally obsessing and head over heels for - horror of horrors - a chain restaurant.

YIKES.

I frequent mom-and-pops and local joints all the time and can't stand "THE MAN" and the culture of suburban hell with a Best Buy-Olive Garden-Wal-Mart-McDonald's-Home Depot-Chili's-Kohl's-Applebee's-Lowe's-Costco-Starbucks-Border's-Mega Mall on every single crowded corner.

But there is an exception to my rule right now (aside from Target - I just can't help myself, I will always write love letters with hearts and stars and offers of my body to the Tar-jay).

My new obsession? Noodles & Company.

Maybe it's because I'm doing Weight Watchers and most of the N&C menu is WW friendly.

Maybe it's their cute website filled with broccoli trees in Penne Park .

Maybe I just heart the fact that today I had a tomato that was actually red, tender, juicy and didn't taste like pesticide on my crisp cucumber and romaine salad as part of my Bangkok Curry Trio. My lunch - for less than $8- was fantastic and made me moan in my seat with the way that the cool coconut flavor lightly accented the flash-seared crisp carrots and garlicky chicken. All for less calories and fat than a small box of beak nuggets and a coke from the hellish McGross.

Whatever it is that is so enchanting about Noodles, I may never know.

But I do know, Noodles & Company, that I am completely smitten with you and don't want to hide my affections any longer.

And the only chain I think of when I think of you is the invisible chain that you have firmly clasped around my heart.

Assistance, please?

2008-02-12T14:00:00.000-05:00

I need an assistant.

There are way too many things going on right now and I think that the only way to help myself is to get an assistant to organize everything.

I'm going to start by giving two of my students some things to do to help me out.

Perhaps by the end of the week, I'll have minions.

Stumble you might fall

2008-02-08T10:57:00.000-05:00

I hung up on myself.

Really, that is what it boils down to.

I stopped listening - slammed down the phone. And when I tried to dial back in, there wasn't a dial tone.

I just didn't want to hear the things that needed to be heard. I've been disconnected - out of my own loop of who I really think I am and who I want to be. So I gave up.

And I didn't think that was right for being in my 30's. Because you know, when you're 32 you should have every single thing figured out and know how to deal.

So I talked to Jodisattva. And she's been feeling the same way.

And I don't want to speak for her, but I feel a little more connected now that I know I'm not the only one out here on the other end of the telephone line. In fact, I'm willing to wager that there's a group of us standing in the middle of a forest on an alternate plane and we're all gripping the black handset of an old-style telephone, staring at a snaking cable that's sheared off not 5 feet from us. We're all yelling about not being tied to something. And in that space of panic, we're not willing to look around and realize that there are others stranded with us. That maybe we should shut up and collectively think about why we're in this space - and explore a little.

That being said, I'm ready to look around. Maybe take a little hike with my friend Jodisattva and figure out what this terrain is - and what we are going to do while we're here. Disconnected from where we think we should be. Unplugged from who we know we are.

Mistake

2008-01-31T21:25:00.000-05:00

I had insatiable passion.

I was writer, dancer, creator, singer, performer - a drama maker - the spotlight queen! That was me.

For some time now, I've felt dead. Just detached and sad and depressed. I don't keep in touch with friends - I've let things fall behind. I've fallen.

And I haven't cared at all.

Lately though, I've felt a spark.

At times it scares the crap out of me because I'm not sure what to do with it. I don't even feel like I'm good enough to have it, but it is hot and fast and moves from the recesses of my brain into my gut. Trying to supress it makes me want to vomit. I don't sleep, my mind is going going going turning like a turbine ready to spark some fantastic machine that will launch me to something great and fulfilling and worth my time. And I know if I let this spark flicker too long without lighting something bigger than me it will fade and sputter out.

I remember this feeling. Like I'm going to explode, like I'm running so fast my heart breaks through my skin, like someone turned on the light and illuminated every mystery of the world. I used to have it all the time. Back then I couldn't control it - and didn't want to. I didn't know how to harness my power and self-destructed over and over again. And loved and loathed every single minute of it.

At some point - and I can pinpoint the time nearly to the second but am not going to tell you - I guess I just succumbed to the "supposed to" world. And the second I did I lost everything that was magical and wonderful about me.

There was a time that I was a firework - sparkly, bright and inspiring. Nothing and everything mattered at the same time. I was fiercely fantastic and dangerously loyal and just so into living life instead of being complacent and settled.

God I hope I'm here again. I want to be that me again.

The giblets came flying out on the approach!

2007-11-19T17:30:00.000-05:00

There is just something about chucking a 15 pound frozen turkey down a 25' linoleum hallway to knock over a bunch of pins.

It is especially satisfying when it smacks against the overturned table against the wall and juices spurt out of the end.

what i did last weekend

2007-09-16T11:59:00.000-04:00

i'd never seen a lavender moon
except for in my dreams.

but there it was,
escaping sunset and changing
its face
through pink and purple hues
in rapid, short, gasps -
hanging low over the outer banks
basking in the north carolina wind
caught between blades
of swaying beach grass
above the cool, shell shocked sand.

it climbed high into the
peach fuzz clouds
battling with the ever darkening blues of dusk
to be the most arresting view in the sky.

and as night fell dark and warm -
wrapped in stars and satellites -
the moon completed its cycle of color
and changed back to its flat face
of bone and teeth.

at peace.

2007-09-11T22:40:00.000-04:00

In the cool humid morning, traffic backed up as usual. The same commuters who drive I-95 each day still left way too many car lengths between bumpers and slammed on brakes to switch lanes. NPR blabbed Petraeus. We talked about it being a harsh winter.

I thought of the things I had to do today and played with ideas for my novel. And as I crested over the hill on 395 on my way to work, the Pentagon in front of me put things into perspective.

Six years ago today, in the same hour as I was arriving to work this morning, freedom in America adopted an eerie new feeling.

There are points in our lives that we all remember. In the days, hours, and months after the attacks when the phrase "nine-eleven" became a rallying cry and we briefly united as a people, one of the most significant things I remember is that the feeling of safety I once enjoyed was never going to be present again.

And the worse realization for me was that many people in the world had never felt safe at all.

And I was ashamed to be so lucky.

Maybe Rove will go that way too...

2007-08-22T21:08:00.000-04:00

Roxy has been out and about in the sweet backroads of Virginny and feels compelled to post a bit of news that she learned about one Mr. Jerry Falwell, the leader of the Morally Bankrupt.

It seems to be a confirmed fact* that Mr. Falwell's death wasn't reported 100% accurately.

While I must say it pains me to tell y'all that NPR was wrong, I am abso-posi-fucking-lutely happy as a redneck watching Nascar to inform you that Jerry Falwell did not die in his office at Liberty University as reported.

Your pal Roxy, while doing field research in Lynchburg, Virginia this past weekend, discovered that the Fartwell went out just like the King.

That's right folks, Jerry died on the shitter.

Which is so apropos since it really doesn't matter where he was - in the office or on the john - he was definitely full of shit.

And that is reason enough to resume posting on my blog.
*Fact confirmed in a bar by a reliable source who confirmed with EMT's on the scene.

Hiatus

2007-08-12T10:56:00.000-04:00

Roxy is taking a hiatus from her blog because she is worn out, spent, has no creativity and in general is pretty much bored with life.

And so I sign off, in typical yearbook fashion,

Enjoy your summer! Stay sweet! Don't ever change! K.I.T!

I do declare!

2007-08-06T00:23:00.000-04:00

Why Chapel Hill, you're as refreshing as a cool glass of tea on a hot August night. In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd have thought you were trying to woo me away from your sultry cousin Virginia.

Despite my hatred of North Carolina (on par with my feelings about New Jersey), I must say I'm simply delighted to be staying at the Carolina Inn at UNC Chapel Hill with its richly appointed entrance, lovely grounds, elegant sunroom, and delectable four-star fare. What a charming seductress of a town, all cafes and college cottages tucked between flowering butterfly trees and long slips of brick pathways. I'm simply mesmerized at the enchanting atmosphere of the places I've seen so far: UNC (I linked their awesome "Virtual Musuem of Univeristy History" - check it out), Vespa Cibobuono, and Franklin Street.

I'm half tempted to take back what I said about this state earlier this year.

Then again, even though you did launch such fine acts as The Squirrel Nut Zippers, Ben Folds Five, James Taylor, and those fine hunks of redneck rockabilly Southern Culture on the Skids, (and soccer great Mia Hamm), I don't think I'm prepared to love you as a whole entity just yet.

We'll see what happens next month when I come here again.

Forget the taming mousse, I'm shaving my head

2007-08-01T00:35:00.000-04:00

It is so humid here.

I was deceptively lulled into believing that our East Coast summer was going to be all breezes and butterflies.

Apparently not.

When I left the house this morning, I caught my reflection in a window. With my unruly, curly hair running wild on top and the kitten heeled peep-toes adorning my feet, I could have been mistaken for a Jersey whore.

Thankfully I don't have 2 inch bloodred fingernails with little rhinestone designs. I'm sure that's the only thing that kept the guy outside the Metro from offering me $50 and a good time.

A fairytale for people with trees in their belly at 3:00AM

2007-07-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, there lived a girl who had a tree living inside her belly.

It wasn't an ordinary tree grown from a wayward pit or carefully sewn seed; in fact, the girl didn't knowingly plant the tree at all. She didn't remember how it got there - just realized it was there one day even though no one else could see it. And while the girl never asked for a tree to grow inside of her, she knew that it was very important that she care for it for all of her days.

Even though she didn't have an instruction manual for her tree, the girl could sense it was flourishing inside. Her healthy tree was any number of rainbow bright colors - sometimes a daring pink or converging shades of orange and yellow. When the girl was content, new green leaves festooned twisting silver and gold branches and a royal purple trunk. And when she was excited, the leaves changed colors and sparkled as if lit from within. Even better, when she felt really happy, the tree sometimes curled up its roots inside itself and flew through her, a cool soulful wind blowing through its long-leaf hair.

But the girl knew that her tree wasn't always healthy. She felt it one Saturday afternoon when nothing seemed right with the world and she didn't know what to do. She began to sense the change in her leaves almost immediately - the tendrils curled and turned a muddy green and the branches cracked, slightly brittle. Her mouth had the distinct taste of Brussels sprouts mixed with tar. In that moment, the girl learned that no amount of water or food could feed the roots or nurture flowering bulbs on the delicate branches. Her thoughts and moods alone were responsible for growing a proper and brilliant tree.

Most days, the girl only thought of the tree in her belly once or twice. She listened to the leaves rustle in the wind of her soul and learned from them - heeding their warnings and celebrating the little things that made life so wonderful. The tree rooted itself deeper and deeper and got bigger and bigger with time. She never worried about it getting too big because it became part of her core and backbone. And it was beautiful. The strong clear trunk supported long limber twists of branch covered with thousands of different colored leaves in hundreds of textures. Before long, the girl didn't know where the tree ended and she began. She wondered if other people had trees in their bellies too.

So she went on her merry way in life, dancing around the world and thinking of trees and dreams. Occasionally though, she forgot peek inside to check and feed her tree.

And then one day the girl woke with a start. The clock on her bedside table read 3AM and she tasted tar and Brussels sprouts and fear in the back of her throat. She knew her tree was dying. The branches were black and brittle, turning to ash, and the crisp brown leaves scattered the floor of her stomach. She couldn't feel her roots in that moment, but sensed that they were somewhere uncovered and exposed to harsh thoughts and wilting dreams.

And the wind was so quiet it scared her.

She sat straight up in the darkest part of the darkest night and cried. She howled for the impending loss of her tree. She screamed on the inside. Why hadn't she paid more attention to those strong roots, the delicate branches? Anger, frustration, uncertainty, and fear poured out of her through Brussles sprout tasting tears. Her stomach churned. She was hopelessly lost.

When she finally stopped crying, her body felt bruised and broken. She felt as if she'd never feel safe and whole again. She laid back down as the clock silently turned to 4AM.

As she lay there in the dark willing sleep to come and deliver her from sadness, she felt an odd stirring in her belly. She inhaled sharply. Was that the end? Was it gone?

The stirring continued.

A single, yellow-green leaf sprouted from a tiny branch toward the bottom of the tree in her belly. And in that instant, she felt thick roots grasp her tight as the wind of her soul began to whisper to her softly.

All in all, it's really cool to be me right now...(aka I think I've had too much wine)

2007-07-11T03:45:00.000-04:00

It is the end of Day Two.

I have vascillated on what to do with my entire career - am I excited? Should I quit because I'm overwhelmed? Should I dive in even though I don't know what the hell I'm doing? I'm riding the roller coaster -wanting to quit my job seconds after thinking I have the best opportunity in the world.

I've met 20 new people, helped finish 6 bottles of wine, and obtained 3 new hefty promotion prospects.

I love conferences.

The only thing that would be cooler is if this meeting was in San Diego or Vegas instead of Chicago.

Fireworks, anyone?

2007-07-06T04:04:00.000-04:00

The evening started - and ended - with a bang.

We show up with sparklers and fireworks, ready to catch up with old friends over charred meat and drunken strawberry Jello.

Ginger needs help, so we arrive early to hoist bags of melting ice; toss the cold, crisp broccoli salad; artfully carve a watermelon; and manifest an outdoor, mosquito-netted harem room which serves more as a love nest for mosquitoes than it does for party goers.

Bill arrives early, inquires whether or not we had brought the pictures of his naked ass from New Years Eve, and then leaves again to retrieve Kelly Commander - our resident party girl and flasher-of-the-boobies. Later, it doesn't take long for the entire party to weigh in on an over/under bet on when she would peek first. (Before midnight, after 10; SCORE!)

Ginger and I suck down a Jello shot, then two more. As I'm slurping the third, there's a knock at the door. I throw it open. The Three Wiseasses appear bearing gifts of beer, sarcasm, and stories of years I've long forgotten.

"Hey, Roxy! Last time I saw you, you were drunk on a bar at Awful Arthurs downtown!" McLeary bellows. "That was the first time I sang karaoke too - I sucked."

I laugh. "Didn't you also flash us your penis?"

"Yep! If you're lucky, you'll see it again tonight." McLeary takes the cooler to the kitchen, making way for the Second Coming.

"Oh, shit folks, she's back. Long time no see."

"Hey Scotty-karate. Been in Arizona for three years - that's why."

"Been that long? Damn."

I move away from the door, not recognizing the guy bringing up the rear.

"Hey!"

I turn around. Oh shit.

"I haven't seen you in forever, Roxy! I never thought... well, you know... um, I'd see you again. You back? For good now?" His face lights up like an exploding firework. I know what he's thinking.

"Hey, T. Yeah."

I see my husband come in from the porch as T moves in. "T, this is my husband. Husband, this is T."

T eyes me, eyes my husband. After a quick hesitation, T pulls it together and shakes Kevin's outstretched hand.

I think about the last time I saw T - two nights before I moved to Arizona, illegally skinny dipping in the pool after hours. I blush with what I remember.

Ginger laughs, hands me another Jello shot. The awkwardness is over.

We spend the rest of the evening languishing in the retreat of the usually humid East Coast July - wholly succumbed to the cool summer night. The hours pass- wrapping us in the rich smells of citronella, barbeque sauce, and roasting marshmallows.

I see people I haven't seen in months, years. My brother and future sister-in-law are there too - and they know most everyone from their bar. We laugh and talk, mingle from group to group, everyone switching locations and people as if performing an elaborate ballroom dance. My husband hears stories that I had forgotten. He laughs at the end of one and says he knew what he was getting into when he married me, and that life will never be boring.

We eat ice cream cake and light homegrown fireworks in the backyard. Flashes of green and silver ignite the evening. Sparklers pop and sizzle in our outstretched hands. I pause to look around at the illuminated faces.

It is so damn good to feel like I'm home.

I'm doing just fine...Haiku?

2007-07-02T06:37:00.000-04:00

Such an open joy!
A full, orange moon in July
Makes me possible.

Candlebox and Contact Highs...

2007-06-25T07:35:00.000-04:00

I wasn't even out of grade school the first time someone accused me of living in the past.

It was the last day of sixth grade and I was going to be leaving the private school I had attended my entire life to go to a public junior high school so I could "make friends closer to home" before high school. I was weepy and melodramtic at the end of the warm May day (I know, me melodramatic? Never...), and many of my friends spent their time telling me it would all be ok.

And then this boy - this boy I thought I hated - told me that I should let go of the past, not try to hold onto it. I emphatically denied his allegation and I told him that I wouldn't miss him, even though I knew I would.

I had just turned 11 years old and this little punk made an observation about me that is true to this day - and I was in my late 20's before I realized it for myself.

I'm obsessed with the concept of time - planning for the future, revisiting the past, trying to eek out the seconds as they tick away on the clock. And I still miss moments that I wouldn't bring back if I could.

Maybe it's because I'm getting older and I want to relive certain moments. I know, that's why we have reunions and hang on to people and places...

Maybe it's a coping mechanism - nothing's happening right now (or something crappy is happening), so I'll think about something that was thrilling or someplace else I'd rather be.

Maybe I should stop spouting the psychoanalyst bullshit and focus on the topic at hand:

Mandatory Wild Turkey Shots.

Yes, required snuffs of sweet rich liquor on a hot Arizona summer evening in 1994. Well, either 94 or 95, since neither Remi nor I were old enough to buy liquor on our own.

We had decided to go see Eddie Money & Candlebox in concert at Westworld of Scotsdale when we were both home from college. It was hot - probably June since we hadn't yet had enough of the summer sizzling to keep us from being outdoors.

The group of concert goers consisted of me, Remi, Remi's brother and all his soccer friends (one of which both Remi and I had a crush on in high school). We met at the house the guys shared before the concert to caravan because it was the safe thing to do.

Well, ok, we met there to drink first.

The guys had a rule, every time someone entered the house that person was required to take a shot of Wild Turkey. Keeping with this line of thought, the rule soon evolved to include people leaving or entering the house from any one of the numerous doors around the spacious living room.

We managed to keep it together enough to drive to the concert venue - at least a 90 minute trip without traffic.

Upon arrival at Westworld, Remi's brother issued a blanket statement to the guys that they would NOT be getting us drunk. Naturally, no one listened and before the first band left the stage we were obnoxiously drunk, drinking out of any and all of the strewn beer and liquor cups throughout the group, shooting Wild Turkey from hidden flasks and leaning into the circles of people passing joints so we could get a contact high.

I distinctly remember Remi looking at me at one point and telling me she had to pee after Candlebox had finished their set and we were hoarse from scream-singing and jumping around. The problem? We were sitting at the top of the hill overlooking the pavilion and the port-o-jons were at the bottom of said hill. Guzzling down the last of the cups, we forged ahead (sending EC, the one we crushed on in HS for more beer for us) and rolled down the hill. I don't remember climbing back up, but we must have because I remember Eddie Money taking the stage as the evening turned cool and Remi's brother yelled to everyone that we were "CUT OFF!" (while we laughed).

I only remember snippets of the evening from that point on. Eddie Money did an entire set in what seemed like 2.5 minutes and then we were hurdling down the hill toward the parking lot. Somehow, we convinced them that Remi was sober enough to drive home. We made it out of the lot and to the nearest gas station to pee and surprisingly didn't get arrested in the convenience store for drunk and disorderly conduct.

And do you know why this story is relevant to the beginning of the post?

Just like Eddie Money sang that night, "I wanna go back, and do it all over but I can't go back, I know."

And while I still wonder how we got home that night (since both of us blacked out after the gas station and woke up the next morning at our respective houses), that isn't the main reason I want to go back.

There are just moments in life when the bigger picture doesn't matter - when there is nothing outside that moment, when all that matters is what is happening in that second - not what has passed, nor what is to come. And there is peace in not giving a damn about anything else for that brief time except the feeling of being there, caught up in something that will never happen again.

And then we spend our lives trying to cultivate that feeling because really, isn't that the point of life?

NC-30

2007-06-23T15:58:00.000-04:00

Actually, this blog is rated:

Site for - Rating

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* sex (5x)
* ass (4x)
* fucking (3x)
* shit (2x)
* piss (1x)

I'm fucking pissed that fucking was only referenced 3 times.

And I definitely need more sex...

TGIF

2007-06-21T20:16:00.000-04:00

No, not Friday.

Finals.

Tonight is the final for the English class I'm teaching.

Which means I'm class-free* for TWO WHOLE WEEKS.

Not that I didn't love my class - my students were great and it was probably the best college course I've ever taught.

But I'm tired and glad it's over.

*Class-free doesn't mean classless, which is usually the case.

And the President too...

2007-06-20T22:48:00.000-04:00

If you were me, you wouldn't like...

Presidential motorcades that stop rush hour commute.

Living in Northern VA.

Pretty much everything in the news.

Being so far away - from friends, from Paris, from where I want to be.

The terrible things we do to eachother.

No Child Left Behind, and how we educate our children.

Spam - email and original.

Reality TV - except for Dog the Bounty Hunter. (yes, you may mock me)

Me.

Fou-fou drinks, unless it is a godiva martini.

Bad customer service.

That we live to work, work to live.

That the desert is disappearing.

Nasty lyrics on ringback tones when I'm calling you about a job offer.

Finetune

2007-06-16T00:31:00.000-04:00

Jeremy turned me on to this awesome site where you can build a playlist and then listen to the music you just picked.

You can visit my page here.

or use the control below to listen to my picks:

Go make your own playlist too - and add me as a friend dammit - so I can listen to yours!

And I thought he was allergic to kitties...

2007-06-14T08:38:00.000-04:00

Roxy: Mr. Wizard died today.
Husband: Who the hell is Mr. Wizard?
R: You don't know who Mr. Wizard is? The guy had his own show from the 60's through the 80's - maybe even later - to make science interesting for kids...
H: Oh, like Bill Nye?
R: Before Bill Nye.
H: I wasn't around then.
R: You act like I'm so old. You should remember the 80's - you were born then.
H: The only thing I remember about the 80's was the movie Willow. I couldn't understand why everyone hated it. But I guess Val Kilmer should never be an elf. And the evil queen was ugly. Evil queens and witches should be tempting sex kittens - not ugly.
R: Oh dear god...
H: I have my evil sex kitten right here.
R: The girl in the car that just passed?
H: No - you. I love evil sex kittens. I say hello to them. If they say "Meow", I say "Hello". (Starts humming The Beatles "Hello Goodbye" song)
R: Meow?
H: Hello, Helllooooo!
R: Your nuts.

Good to know...

2007-06-14T01:19:00.000-04:00

Husband: Come with me. (Dragging me by arm)
Roxy: Will you stop dragging me around like I'm some sort of whore?
Husband: If I was dragging you like a whore, I'd be dragging you by the hair, not by your arm.

100 Things I Want to Know

2007-06-08T05:04:00.000-04:00

In no particular order...

What the world looks like from a hot air balloon.
Your thoughts.
How my former students are.
The way the Northern Lights look in person.
Magic.
Where Myles Montgomery, Jason Witty, & Shawn C. are now and if they are happy.
The hue of an African sunset.
What it is like to have a child.
If he thinks of me as much as I think of him.
The feeling of home.
My parents' and grandparents' memories.
How to make the best bread pudding ever.
If this is all that there is.
How to dissipate my anger.
The rules of, and how to play, craps at a Vegas table.
What my dog is thinking.
The adrenaline rush of sky-diving.
How to focus.
If peace will ever be rampant.
How to sew, can, grow a garden, and be domestic.
Another culture.
How the world will end.
The place to obtain funding for Java-n-Jammies.
How to make a difference.
If there is anything new under the sun.
Where to find the ultimate eggs benedict.
The answers, 90% of the time.
Fluent Spanish.
What to do when my writing sounds trite.
If Nessie really exists.
The most important thing.
Where my friends from Rancho are now and how they are doing.
How to stop being so fucking annoying and self-absorbed.
If I'd feel alone if I got rid of my cell phone.
The spray of salt water on the open sea.
How to simplify.
If my dark secrets are really that different from your dark secrets.
A ghost or two.
How to ski.
What would happen if all of the world's technology suddenly crashed.
Why I wasted so much time with sociopaths and bad boys.
If the Queen has dustbunnies in her house too.
The best lines from my favorite poems.
The way to sing - and sound like - Melissa Etheridge, Tori Amos, or Liz Phair.
10 great novels, from cover to cover.
If I have the stamina to get my PhD.
What the inside of a tornado looks like.
How to rise above ordinary.
The right thing to say at a funeral.
The dance of the morning light here.
The view of earth, from outer space.
How to be a better sister.
What happens when we die.
The definition of a new word each month.
How to play the guitar.
If I'll ever finish Middlemarch like I promised myself.
A better way.
What kind of life forms exist in outer space.
How to not procrastinate.
Intimate details of my favorite cities.
The way to hold it all together - and look great while doing it.
If it is possible to move things with my mind.
The feel of making art with my hands (pottery, glass, wood, etc.)
How we have become so corrupt.
What it's like to be effortless.
A clean, funny joke.
If anyone, anywhere will ever be safe.
The quickest way to make a million dollars.
If the mailman reads my postcards.
When I'll see Tokyo - or Greece.
Where I'll be when you're gone.
If you are happy.
What it looks like when a star explodes, frame by frame.
How to surf.
If I'll see your face or hear your laugh again.
The end of my first novel.
Unexpected happy news.
All those grammar rules I have forgotten.
How to disappear.
What it's like in the underwater restaurant.
Grace.
If time travel will ever be possible.
The light in your eyes at sunrise on the national mall, after staying out all night.
How to transfer the images and memories in my mind to something permanent and tangible.
More about art.
Another 100 things.
The lyrics to all my favorite songs.
How to forget.
If I'll remember all those stories from childhood when I'm older.
If you'll even read this whole list.
Why I'm always so anxious and restless.
What would happen if I just left.
How not to care what others think.
The best garden plants to attract butterflies, lazy afternoons, and luck.
When to tie up loose ends.
How to play, and remember rules, for card games.
A way to reconcile the argument of innocence vs. experience.
When to let go.
If there is enough time.
What is enough.

Deep thoughts from the fortune cookie

2007-06-06T20:22:00.001-04:00

Society prepares the crime; the criminal commits it.

Roxy say: ominous, spooky, true.

I'm feeling a little bit cheated...

2007-06-03T22:49:00.001-04:00

by tonight's Sopranos.

Anyone else feel this way?

Apparently it only takes 50 minutes to down two men and a Ukranian. WTF?

As for Anthony Jr., get a grip you fuckin' pussy.

And was that the last hurrah for Dr. Melfi? Kind of anticlimatic, don't you think? Though I did love the part where she was reading about sociopathic behaviour... it reminded me again that Tony is NOT a guy I want to know - even though the entire show makes him seem like someone I do want to know...

After the past few incredible episodes, this is what they leave us with on the second to last one?

Thoughts?

Update 1: I have no life. And neither do these folks.

Update 2: Lys, if you are reading this and watch the Sopranos, I'd like to know if Tony reminds you of anyone we mutually knew (think sociopath, evil, charming...)

And now back to our regularly scheduled reality...

2007-05-30T21:50:00.000-04:00

Does anyone ever go on vacation and want to come back and go to work? If so, good for you. I don't feel that way.

I'm sunburned, exhausted, content, contemplative, and really missing some friends and family after my vacation this past week. And I'm dreading the return to reality. I've already gone through all my email and erased all the webinar invitations, emails from organizations to which I belong, mass emails, traffic alerts, job announcements, and things I don't need to handle so that I can now delegate my weekend to the approx. 250 messages that need my attention.

Is it really worth it to even go on vacation? Is this all there is?

Reality bites - and I didn't even get to make out with Ethan Hawke.

eve of the storm

2007-05-16T23:53:00.000-04:00

i'm open -
palms up,
extended to the point of heartbreak
and ecstasy.

you are nowhere
to be found.

Wish I could be at this judgment

2007-05-15T15:07:00.000-04:00

“Judge not, less ye be judged and found unworthy.”

A poem on aging

2007-05-14T17:16:00.000-04:00

A new age
Is now upon --
I say goodbye
I'm moving on.

My twenties great
My teens some fun
Not much to say
'bout thirty-one.

A new day dawns
Through clear blue,
What the fuck,
I'm thirty-two.

At sweet sixteen
yes, half of now,
I glimpsed my core,
my path, my tao.

Now I'm lost
Can't see through trees
The road not taken
Beckons me.

I thought by now
It would be clear,
What the hell
I’m doing here.

Every night,
I toss and turn.
I’m not settled--
Still I burn.

I question what
I thought I knew.
Where's your wisdom,
Thirty-two?

I feel as if
I've regressed.
To simpledom
I've acquiesed.

The clock keeps ticking
Chimes time away.
Still frozen on
This spot I stay.

At thirty-two
Who wants to be
An empty drone
For all to see?

Barely living,
All washed up --
The same stale drink,
The same chipped cup.

I used to think
So differently
No commonplace
life for me.

What have I done
To make this so?
I talk to much,
No act, no show.

Still I laugh
And dream to be
The me I always
Thought I'd be.

Perhaps I'll find her by thirty-three.

Mom

2007-05-13T09:44:00.000-04:00

It is a perfect day in Virginia today. I think it dawned especially to celebrate mothers.

Yesterday was full of oppressive, humid heat. It was sticky. I could chew the air.

Late last night a violent thunder and lightening storm rolled through, the air pushed those humid clouds to the ground in the form of rain. The earth was drenched; the storm passed.

And on this glorious day, the calm and beauty after the storm emerges. Just to celebrate moms - I'm convinced.

My mom is an amazing woman and most days I try to show her how much I appreciate her though am not always successful. She did the typical mom things as I grew - she healed my cuts (and talked me through the broken hearts). She ruled our house with a gentle command, but she too could be the violent storm when we needed it. Now that I'm an adult, I see so much more - her dedication and commitment to her family, her grace and style, her intelligence.

I am blessed that my mom and I have attained that level that many moms and daughters don't reach. She is my mom - I look to her for guidance still. But more importantly, she is my friend and confidant and the first person I want to call when things go awry.

My grandmothers - Mom's Once Removed - were also there to help raise me. Nam is always soft spoken to me and always was, unless I was driving my mother crazy (and then she dropped her voice and said in dead calm tones that what I was doing was wrong and I needed to rearrange my priorities immediately). Mamma brought me the love of all things Italian - her heritage. Gram was my confidant and partner in crime though we were separated by two generations.

Growing up, I had many mother figures in my life.

Remi's mom, Sally, was always a second mom to me. I was a part of their household as Remi was part of ours from the age of four until college. And then she stepped in and reaffirmed her second mom status again before my wedding, helping me get through a very difficult time. I think of her today too - and miss her - because I'm selfish and want my best friend to have her mom today too.

Through high school, I had Rosemary as another mom to me. And then when I started college and my first job - Eileen and Mickey were my moms at work. When I left home for the first time and went to Tacoma, Kris took me under her wing as her own daughter was at school in Chicago. When I had to be rushed to the emergency room in college for passing out, Kris stayed with me and updated my mom who was 1000 miles away.

And now my friends are moms and I watch them grow stronger because of (and in spite of) their children. They are amazing to behold.

And I hope to have qualities from each of them when I become a mom someday too.

North Carolina is the armpit of America

2007-05-09T21:49:00.000-04:00

Well, aside from New Jersey that is.

I really don't mean to diss you North Carolina, but damn honey - you do not look good. Let's talk candidly about your haphazard urban planning, streets with holes the size of craters, bumpkin housing, overgrown and nasty weeds of varied and unusual size, and run down art deco shopping malls with less than three vendors. Did you know every lake and river I crossed looked like a bastardized version of Willy Wonka's chocolate river? I know you aren't churning Hershey's so what the hell is up?

Everything about you is falling apart. I just want to know how you could be so unsightly - your two jeweled sisters, South Carolina and Virginia, shine on either side of you! How is it that you are just one long consistent strip of ugly?

The time has come, North Carolina. Take a week off, get a pedi and a wax! Gussy yourself up pretty - you have the right idea with the NC Wildflower project, take it to the next level.

I expect to see you shining on my next trip down this fall.

Love,
Roxy

Saturday

2007-05-04T07:31:00.000-04:00

Dawn rose in hazy pink hues this morning, breaking sunlight just east of the white domed Capital building. The golden rays turned the silver spikes of the Missing Man Memorial into a golden crown.

Thin clouds veiled the horizon, a humid cool skyline punctuated with spires and obelisks.

Days like today make me love the nation's capital.

My Daemon

2007-05-03T08:26:00.000-04:00

Working on a few big posts right now - about hope in our time, musical interludes and other such stuff. In the meantime, I leave you with my Daemon.

;

I have a meeting with the Bobs in a few minutes...

2007-05-02T10:32:00.000-04:00

Well, not really.

But I am having an "Office Space" kind of week.

"Freedom of" includes all...

2007-04-24T09:31:00.000-04:00

It's about time!

A is for Asshole

2007-04-21T11:12:00.000-04:00

Last night, we were in a very cute little restaurant in Shirlington drinking margaritas and laughing at life. I was about halfway through my on-the-rocks big gulp when a couple with a small child (2, maybe 2 1/2) sat down next to us. I may sound critical, but these were some annoying yuppy parents. Perfectly coiffed and dressed, trendy bags and accessories, with a kid who looked like she stepped out of a catalog. And each time the girl made a noise - not a yell or a scream or even a sound of displeasure - the parents would try to distract her using too-loud voices and high pitched sing-songs. At one point, the mother whipped out her copy of "A is for Apple, B is for Banana" and began to read at the top of her lungs. The child looked disinterested and played with the food in front of her and the father gulped his margarita like he was dying in a desert.

To amuse ourselves, we came up with our own A, B, C, for any yuppy parent (or alcoholic).

A is for Amaretto Sour (or Apple Martini if you are a 20-something mom)
B is for Bacardi
C is for Carbomb
D is for Dirty Martini
E is for Extra Dirty Martini (mmm)
F is for Frangelico
G is for Goldschlager (or Glenfiddich for dads that knocked up their third wives)
H is for Hypnotic
I is for Island Punch
J is for Jaegermeister
K is for Ketel One (my fave)
L is for Limoncello (for the well traveled yuppy) or Long Island Ice Tea
M is for Margarita (make me another)
N is for Nipple Shots (for the nights when you leave the kids at home)
O is for Oatmeal Cookie shots
P is for Pina Colada (and getting caught in the rain)
Q is for Quaalude (the shot, not the pill...)
R is for Rum
S is for Sex on the Beach
T is for To Go, Please
U is for U come here often? (for divorced yuppy parents)
V is for Virgin
W is for Why is Mommy passed out on the couch?
X is for Xerox your ass on the copier - you know you've done it before...
Y is for You drunk ass
and Z is for zzzzzzzzz

we are heartbroken in the wake of tragedy

2007-04-19T10:31:00.000-04:00

Hey Roxanne,

Thank you for the e-mail. It has been difficult. Luckily, Jon is okay and all of our friends and my students (I teach ESL at Tech's Open University for the YMCA in a building behind Norris Hall) are okay. It is pretty scary to teach kids who can have severe reactions and who want to copy criminals at this time... but we are slowily moving forward. We went to the candleight vigil last night, and I think that really helped Jon. His classes are cancelled.

What the media isn't reporting is that this was right before finals, and there are a lot of students (Med and Veterinarian students especially) who are really under a heap of pressure with so much chaos, because a failing grade means you're out. It took them two days to get the reorganization of the school schedule explained to everyone, but they have been very caring and have been incredibly fair in dealing with this.

I wish the media would also note that there has never been a case where someone did a small scale shooting like that and then went on such a rampage... there was no way for the Administrators to adjust in a more timely fashion. It is just so devastating.

The media presence has been incredible... I just hope they can remember to be kind in the end. The President lost his co-workers, too... and he doesn't get to take time off to deal with his grief with all of this intense scrutiny... Anyway... it is just so overwhelming... we'll just have to find a way to try to be kind and understanding during this time, and to understand that anger of the families is natural and not an indicator that something actually was done wrong.

I was really mad in the beginning, because we were home... Jon was home and safe when it began, but he had gone to school by the time the second shooting was started. I was really upset, but when I look at the timeline that was provided and think about the logistics... they had less than 30 mintues for a meeting of 10 people to come to a concensus about what should be done... they thought they had the guy.... I can't imagine how they would have done differently given the way the campus is set up. There just wasn't any way they could have guessed.

I hope you and your husband are doing well, and are safe.
Beth

and now we wait for the oops

2007-04-15T10:05:00.000-04:00

3 months ago
roxy: let's have a baby. you know, a little of you and a little of me all mushed together?
roxy's husband: no baby. well, maybe in 2020.
roxy: my eggs are shriveling.
husband: then we'll build it in a test tube in 2020.

a week ago
husband: let's have a baby.
roxy: no.
husband: i'm ready now.
roxy: you do realize it's first word will either be "fuck" or "martini," right?
husband: no, it'll be "playstation."
roxy: this is exactly why we shouldn't have children.

last night
husband: i want a little person.
roxy: a little person?
husband: a baby.
roxy: crap.
husband: no a baby.
roxy: you do realize that while I may talk tough, i really will be the most conservative and overbearing mother alive, right?
husband: yes.
roxy: ok.

a girl in a hotel bar

2007-04-11T02:34:00.000-04:00

ignoring the slip of doubt in my throat i order the dirty martini to chase down two extra strength advil. my head throbs a staccato melody - a fireworks explosion after shotgun bursts in my tender brain.

i suck on an olive, tease the pimento out with my tongue.

the bartender asks me if i'm here on vacation. i shake my head. the smooth surface of the pimento glides a salty trail along the roof of my mouth. sharp liquid swells over my lips. i play with it before swallowing. my entire drink becomes an event - tip, swirl, coax, twirl, slide sweetly down. i'm having sex with icy vodka.

fox news is reporting the father of anna nicole's baby. i'm sickened by the media attention, the display, but i continue to stare at the tv. i'm not the person i used to be.

if i was another me, i'd talk to the bartender, the person deliberately sitting too close to me making loud comments and staring at me out of the corner of his eye. tonight, i ignore both.

the bartender refills my water. everything ok there, honey? i nod. how's your headache? fine, thank you.

i scribble words on a cocktail napkin.

animosity
thirsty
ostentatious
purpose
self
synthesis

the guy next to me laughs, tries to draw me into conversation.

it occurs to me that i never was an extrovert - my outgoing nature a grand performance with props and costumes. more often than not now i'm introverted - more true to myself, sometimes akward to others. i simply don't need approval, and don't desire small talk.

time is too important and i just want another fucking martini.

The next time I feel dumb,

2007-04-03T10:14:00.000-04:00

I will think of this clip below and realize that - even if i never learn another thing for the next 50 years - I will never be as dumb as this guy or the people who believe this:

Freak clip

What a load of shit. Peanut butter as a baseline for the theory that evolution doesn't exist? Maybe he is using it as an example of what is in his head. At least if it was crunchy I'd hope there were some chunks of knowledge.

Peanut butter is manufactured! It doesn't sit around for billions of years waiting to morph into something else! It is MAN-MADE you idiot! Oh crap. I think I've got it. People are man-made too! Well, there's an obvious connection. And when we arrive in our freshly sealed packages with preservative chemicals it is proof that we couldn't have evolved from anything!

I guess proof that evolution doesn't exist can be found in this clip. It is proof that this man's brain hasn't evolved past three year old logic. I'm sure that's god's fault too.

epiphany

2007-04-02T01:01:00.000-04:00

I'm finding it increasingly alarming that I do not want to have a place in today's mainstream workforce. I'm an intelligent individual with a varied background, a Masters degree and creative tendencies. I like to play with the team, plan and execute projects, teach classes and help those around me. I just don't want to spend the majority of my time on office politics, sweating the small stuff and doing work that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. I don't feel like I'm a valid member of society anymore.

A few years ago, I quit the corporate world to teach high school in an "at-risk" area. At times, I felt like I was wasting time there too. That I can't do enough to help. That there are so many people who need things and I could do more. We all could do more.

Why can't I spend 12 hours a day (which is what I currently spend, including my commute - 15 hours on the days I teach class) working on something that may help someone in the long run? And I mean the full 12 hours - not 30 minutes here or an hour or so there.

In a country where church, state, media, and neighbors judge morals and perceived personal values, why doesn't our society embrace cooperation, assistance and helping eachother?

And since I'm not stupid, I do know why - money and control.

And while none of this is an epiphany, the title of this post is an invitation for what I most need. I need an epiphany, a cosmic slap to the face so I can begin to carve the path for something different, something risky.

"It seems to me that people have vast potential.
Most people can do extraordinary things
if they have the confidence or take the risks.
Yet most people don't.
They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever."

- Phillip Adams

And I guess a little confidence wouldn't hurt either...

Not like Monica...

2007-03-29T00:44:00.000-04:00

I'm kicked back reading the latest issue of my Cigar Aficionado magazine puffing on a mellow Romeo Y Julieta Reserva Real and drinking an olive-sullied Ketel One up when it occurs to me that Easter Sunday is only 11 full days away.

The day of His triumphant return, the day His Resurrection will occur. And then, in a few short months, Tony will be out of my life.

You didn't seriously think I was talking about Jesus, did you? Vaffanculo, I don't think so.

And, ok, I don't smoke cigars. But I did buy this months Aficionado - have you seen the cover? Madon'! Delicious.

There are way too many endings this year. Tony. Harry. Johnny. I may have to kill myself.

Then again, I'd miss the only ending I'm looking forward to - the one that occurs in 2009.

Check!

2007-03-21T23:14:00.000-04:00

Today, I feel
__x__ Surly
__x__ Overwhelmed
__x__ Like nothing will ever be happy again

I will most likely:
__x__ Rethink Life
__x__ Drink
__x__ Snap
__x__ Get counseling

Tonight, I need a:
__x__ Drink
__x__ Miracle
__x__ Sedative
__x__ Swift kick in the head

You can help by:
__x__ Being supportive
__x__ Cutting me some slack and not expecting anything from me anytime soon
__x__ Shutting the hell up
__x__ Booking me on a flight to Tahiti

Tomorrow, I hope to:
__x__ Forget today
__x__ Make it through
__x__ Wake up in someone else's body
__x__ Get over myself

Rocking out

2007-03-17T04:35:00.000-04:00

It's Friday morning and I'm in my office working on a report. I'm streaming Last.fm (thanks to Squint) for the first time. I like the music, but it is taking a back seat to the numbers I'm crunching.

Then it happens.

Supervixen by Garbage.

I crank up the speakers (I'm usually the only one in on Friday's before 9) and don't even close the door before I start doing my "Bow Down To Me" bump-and-grind dance. Friday gyrations are serious business.

After the song ends, I think back to the article I read last month about picking a theme song and singing it to boost confidence.

Outwardly, I scoffed. But secretly, I knew it to be true. The first notes of one of my faves always brings out the sexy, in control me - the one who walks taller, moves better, smiles more, and knows that the world wants me.

So why do we need a soundtrack to choreograph our lives?

This is not a new question, or a new concept. Music is more than just entertainment, it is a respected field of study. Click on any of the links here and see what scientists and industry say.

Music does make your brain happy. And that happiness translates directly to a spring in the step, a smile on the face, and out of control grinding and shaking on the dance floor.

When I think of my theme songs - admit it, you have them too - they invoke a feeling that equates to my most powerful moment - my undergrad graduation.

On that lazy Tacoma Sunday, the sun peeked through the clouds - a golden backdrop for nebulous clouds and a shining beacon in my nebulous future. My hair was afrolicious for a white girl, the humidity sparking ringlets amid wild frizz, and I was in great physical and intellectual shape. As I crossed the wide stage, amid cool sprinkles of rain, hope and power were tangible - firmly settled in my palm.

I don't remember what song was in my brain that day - there were several I played in my mind and let slip from my lips that year that I was 21 and knowing. But that day the soundtrack began to change from innocence to experience.

And when I hear one of my theme songs now, those palpable feelings from that day return.

Kenyattasaurus Rex is as real as it gets: A GDC Overview

2007-03-12T02:55:00.000-04:00

I take it back. In my post about GDC07 I stated that video games were pointless. I was wrong. In this small space between today and the future, I am simultaneously excited and terrified.

Nifty things I saw:
The very funny, hip and talented Shigeru Miyamoto
A marriage proposal
Awards
Don't be surprised if you see new games from here - these independent games were amazing.
I Am 8-Bit (Go Burgertime!)
Pirates!
An excellent presentation by the GDC geek of the week.
The Expo booths (I'll have pics up soon, in the meantime you can find some images here)

Impressions:
The people we encountered at the Playstation pavilion and manning the booths were consistently assholes (the night of the booth crawl, at the expo, and in the hallway). Given that my husband gives them a hefty chunk of change every year, I found this disconcerting. We will be spending more money elsewhere after that experience.

Within the next 10 years, games and sims will be ubiquitous. From education to entertainment, hi-fidelity technology is changing our future landscape. And wars will never be the same.

Video games are our future. Not just mine, but yours too. The world of simulation is rapidly replacing the world we live in.

That the future is a combination of serious games and casual games.

More karaoke is coming!

After talking to hundreds of industry insiders, I found that careers are still possible, but it is a competitive industry. While this isn't news, I'm not going to go into everything I learned as that would include the entire report I'm currently preparing for my company and really, do you want to read that?

Wax museums rock

2007-03-07T03:18:00.000-05:00

Touching down on the left bank today washed me in calm. I feel at home in the west immediately.

San Francisco is bigger than I remember it - and more of a city than I recall. My wide eyed wanderings here over a decade ago (1996 a week after I graduated from college and embarked on a road trip, and 1995 when I came here with my boyfriend and nearly left his ass here even though he was the one driving) left me with memories of me here with my innocent self. I'm no longer she, and I'm working on this trip so my aim is different.

I can say that the plane ride getting to San Fran sucked. Although I've rambled about consistently shitty service before, the airlines are the worst offenders. I can deal with no meal service, cattle call boarding, luggage restrictions, and the outragous expense for booze and in-flight headphones. What I can't deal with is that our ticket prices are astronomical and the planes are so fucking filthy I feel like I'm visiting a frat house after a vomit-filled party. There's shit on the ceilings, dirt in every crevice, tray tables breeding bacteria in streaks of filth, gross seats, even more disgusting floors, the interior siding peeling away from the insulation between the cabin and the outer shell of the plane, and at least two or three things malfunctioning on any given flight. AND WE GLADLY FORK OVER OUR MONEY FOR THIS. The airline industry has it made. Get the consumer hooked on travel. Make him think that he is free to hop on a plane at any time day or night to go work, explore, and escape. Provide good service until he is hooked (travel in the 80's and most of the 90s) and then rip it away from him. He will be so dependent on his illusion of freedom and his Airline-Given right to travel that he won't bitch when he sits on a tarmac for 2 hours in hot, filthy conditions because we can't figure out why the hell one of our tailights is malfunctioning. Never mind that he'll miss connecting flights - not our problem. Why should we clean the plane? He'll fly anyway. Not our problem that the guy next to him hasn't bathed - we're packing 'em in like sardines folks! Yes, we ran out of water. No blankets on this flight. The monitors don't work. The plane doesn't work. You'll have to switch planes even though you were supposed to fly straight through.

And the kicker I heard today, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you see an empty row toward the front of the economy section, you may not move to occupy it. Economy passengers are able to purchase these Economy Plus seats closer to the entrance and exit and may enjoy up to 6 additional inches of leg room. You must stay in your original seat."

WTF?

And the last two times I have flown (both within the last 30 days) the captain has made an effort to refer to the passengers in the bulk of the plane as "economy passengers." Last time I checked, $450 wasn't a piss in a bucket. I could go to my favorite gourmet restaurant for 3 times on that amount and they kiss my ass there. I'm economy because I didn't spend $1500 to fly first class?

My intention for this post wasn't a rant. It was actually to clear my head because it is currently almost 3AM in DC and I'm still wide awake. Let's shift away from the airline industry and talk about a completely pointless industry: wax museums. I had the distinct pleasure of visiting the Fisherman's Wharf Wax Musuem after a glorious Dungeness crab dinner on the water. The museum was $10 well spent. Talk about absurd, ridiculous, gross and entertaining. I could go 45 times for the price of one flight and have a ball talking to all the weird wax statues. I don't know what possessed us to go in aside from the fact that one of my counterparts had never been. Come to think of it, I haven't either. Happily, I am no longer a wax virgin.

Some of those statues were incredible. The one of Barry Bonds was so lifelike I could almost see the steriods! Sadly, Michael Jackson looked Greek and Princess Di looked like an 80's modern business woman on her way to church. But, I am absolutely thrilled to know that there is a representation of The Last Supper done completely in wax just down the hall from a wax Adolf Hitler. YEA! And, in the chamber of horrors, the paint spattered floor (red to resemble a massacre) lent credibility to some fo the very creepy creatures. Anton LaVey was very real looking and there was a really scary guy in the corner who, upon further reflection, I think was really a scary guy in the corner. My friend and I booked it out of there PDQ once we saw him. The highlight of the chamber of horrors is the "electric chair" that we all took turns in so that we could be, what else, electrocuted! It scared the bejesus out of me because I didn't expect the cold air to blow up through the seat, but I guess electrocution isn't so bad if it truly feels like a Swamp Ass Cooler.

Ok kids, the Magic Bullet infomercial just came on so I must go be enthralled (nachos anyone? fancy coffee drinks in 7 seconds!). Besides, the alcohol has relaxed me enough so that I may be able to sleep. Plenty of networking to do tomorrow and lots of geeks to meet at GDC07!

Nighty night!

Religion, part two

2007-02-17T10:11:00.000-05:00

And then there was the Daquiri Drive-Through shack filled to the brim with churning hurricanes, pina coladas, and bellinis in 36 ounce To Go cups. And we were in New Orleans where imbibing alcohol on the streets is encouraged.

And life became full of giggles... and beads.

Snow day, a memory, a birth and New Orleans

2007-02-14T07:00:00.000-05:00

Today is a SNOW DAY! No work. Why I'm up doing email at 6:00AM I just don't know.

Today is Valentine's Day. Three years ago, I received a Valentine from my husband and first new that he "liked" me. Aww, how 6th grade. But, here we are married and happy - and about to leave for New Orleans to escape the frigid East.

This morning, I thought of last Valentine's Day. We were in a hospital saying goodbye to an extraordinary woman. We had spent the night before in the critical care unit, just below the maternity ward. Throughout the 18+ hours, we paced hallways, brought food, talked with friends and family, and crossed fingers and toes to cling to hope. That time was punctuated with strains of "Lullaby" from the hospital loudspeaker announcing to the world every new birth on the floor above us. I remember thinking of new life even when one was so close to leaving.

This Valentine's day began when I opened the email annoucing the birth of little Ethan. I cried for joy for Shalen and Pat. And then I shed tears of sadness for Remi who lost her mom last year on this day.

Later today, Oliver will arrive into this world for Amy and Travis.

The cycle continues.

Death, birth, renewal, and hope - what miserable and wonderful things. Life is too short, too serious most of the time. The only thing left to do is celebrate it all. Starting tonight, I plan to drink and flash with my husband, best friend, and Aunt in New Orleans. We will be celebrating those we lost last year (in order) - Sally, Claudia's dad, my great-gram and co-conspirator Ruth, Bettina's dad, Uncle Dave, Uncle Larry, and Gene.

In the crowd, we'll see their faces and our memories.

And I'll have some King Cake for you, because all the drinking I do is going to be for me.

Twenty five reasons I love you...

2007-02-12T14:27:00.000-05:00

25. Your disdain for Brussels Sprouts and all cooked vegetables.
24. Your love of salads.
23. The look on your face when you see a baby.
22. That you don't snore.
21. Your sense of adventure.
20. Your sporadic dancing for no reason.
19. Your sporadic singing (and making up your own lyrics) for no reason.
18. Your sweet laugh.
17. Your stories about history - you seem to know all the "behind the scene" stories for every major event in American and British history (actually, for most locales and cultures), in addition to your knowledge of most world religions.
16. The way you want to help people - especially older ones.
15. Your big heart, brain, and well, your big feet.
14. Your excitement over the little things - and the big things too.
13. The way you can just relax, and how you try to get me to do the same.
12. You share my love of pirates, harry potter, books, travel, art, hardwood floors and shoes.
11. Your patience.
10. Your ability to always win at Roulette, unless I am around.
9. That you love me unconditionally even though I drive you absolutely nuts most of the time.
8. How you make up "Would You Rather" scenarios as well.
7. That you write stories in your head.
6. Your endless adoration of Elvis.
5. That you always are thinking of what would make me happy.
4. How you care for and love your family.
3. That you live in your PJ's, but love suits just as much.
2. That you clean up after the dog when I don't want to.
1. Who you are and who you will be.

Happy 25th Birthday, my husband.
xoxoxoxo

Religion

2007-02-11T09:59:00.000-05:00

And then there was a dirty vodka martini. Four perfectly ripened large olives, a single straw snaked through their green flesh. Smooth Ketel One sullied with a splash of salty green.

And all was right with the world.

Gaming, gamers, games, GAWD!

2007-02-02T01:51:00.000-05:00

Commodore 64. Nintendo. The paddle. The Pacman table at the pizza parlor.

I loved the joystick. Still do.

While I do realize the blips, bleeps, and limited graphics are six feet down in the video game graveyard, I miss them. I miss the simplicity of the challenge on old video games - eat small pellets, avoid the ghosties, eat bouncing fruit and get to the next level. Jump over barrels, climb ladders, rescue the badly drawn girl from the big monkey. Do a triple tuck rolling dive into the pool at the Summer Olympics (does anyone else remember this game on the Commodore 64)? And my fave, typing in command prompts to find Dr. Livingston. We had to presume it was him - there were no graphics at all on that game.

Video games today are alternate universes. Full bodied characters with tits more real than mine feel like they are practically in the room with you. Vampires, gang bangers, militia men, marines, monsters - is there any character off limits? If I let him, my husband would sit in front of the big screen TV blowing shit up in surround sound 24 hours a day.

My personal opinion of video games? They're a way for the powerless to be in virtual control, to feel omnipotent. They're the brain break for the millennial generation. (Why the hell does the millenial generation need a brain break? Even us X'ers weren't as lazy and flippant.) They are coping mechanisms. And they've evolved into complex, crazy worlds that we use to escape the complex, crazy world in which we live.

Still I must admit I do play Trivia on the X-Box upon occasion. And, I love Karaoke Superstar. And the boxing game at Jillian's where I put on boxing gloves, step under the sensors, physically dodge punches, throw right hooks and uppercuts, jump around a bit, punch my opponent in the gut, and then laugh as he erphs and ouphs and bleeds before he falls and I am celebrated as the victor. I like that one too.

With all these conflicting emotions, I embrace my upcoming trip to GDC07. The Game Developers conference is an orgy of companies showcasing the latest and greatest video game technologies. There are expos, presentations, workshops, and plenty of games to explore during the first full week of March in San Francisco.

And I'm plenty excited about the "I am 8-bit: version 2.007 Preview Exhibit" session. And the 5 days in San Francisco at the Serrano can't hurt.

Added bonus? I get to see Heather!

Aptly named after the can of beer up his butt

2007-02-01T07:58:00.000-05:00

Miller, the burning chicken.

Wednesday

2007-01-26T22:24:00.000-05:00

I love the word Wednesday.

Just look at it...

Wednesday

I especially love it when it is written just as above, with proper capitalization. The big W, the round front loops of the d's, and nes right in the middle.

It makes me think of when I was in Ms. Guiffre's first grade class and I was practicing careful loops with my number 2 pencil. The smooth, thin handwriting sheets.

...and the W fills the space between the 2 solid blue lines...

...and the d's are written so the top of the loop reaches the the red dotted line but the backbone of the d - the line portion, if you will - reaches as tall as the capital W...

...and my y always with flourish. Showed a bit of personality...

Friday just doesn't pack the same punch.

State of the Union - Still FUBARed

2007-01-23T21:18:00.000-05:00

The best part about the State of the Union:

"Madam Speaker, the President of the United States."

Because even though Bush should bow down to Nancy Pelosi, it's good enough for me to hear her title first.

Other thoughts...

If Bush spoke this well during the first few years of his regime, his approval rating might not be so far into the toilet. Then again...

Balance the budget? I think someone already thought of that. Wasn't it Clinton? I wish Bush had followed more of what he did. I wouldn't care who sucked his dick - just as long as we weren't at war.

You want Medicare & Social Security to become sound? Make it so that every person in the Congress has to retire with only those two options. It will become sound real quick.

As for NCLB, bullshit. It is the solution to make a mediocre nation - not one that excels. We may need more focus on Math and Science, but what about critical thinking? Today's youth don't know how to think, to problem solve. There isn't time in a classroom to teach that, to develop it. Regurgitation of information to pass standardized test will NOT make a nation intellectually strong. Only true breakthroughs can do that. How about paying teachers more and demanding more of them? Help them get their Masters degrees, their PhD's, and then pay them to build the future of this nation.

Remind me again why we are in Iraq? The 9/11, Al Qaida smokescreen fails to impress. Way to slip in Iran followed almost directly by the word "wicked" instead of evil. While I've known for a while that Iran was our next target, hearing Bush say it crystallized the dire situation this is about to become. I'm curious as to who will profit from this one. Probably the same white men - private and public - that are profiting from Iraq. Make no mistake America. Your boys and girls aren't dying for freedom. They're dying for oil, for profit. And you'll never see a dime.

IT'S SNOWING!

2007-01-21T12:45:00.000-05:00

Thought you oughtta know.

the cost of happiness

2007-01-20T18:58:00.000-05:00

For two brief months, I lived better. I thought about the kind of life I want - a smaller home, a brief commute, a city existence outside of suburbia. Kevin and I planned to think small rather than sprawling. We want to travel, to enjoy things outside the home.

And then, today, we bought a house. It's really beautiful. The lot is surrounded by trees. The house is bigger than we need right now - we have room to grow. The mortgage will be hundreds above my comfort number.

Will we travel? Will we still enjoy life? Is it really just about making a home, raising some kids, and trying to stay out of crushing debt? I think about debt on a regular basis. What amount is too much? How much does happiness cost?

For this moment, I have my answer. Happiness (with a morning room, walkout basement, gourmet kitchen, bay windows and a luxury bath) runs about $350,000 (before design upgrades).

Snap.

2007-01-15T11:42:00.000-05:00

In the picture she is smiling, open-mouthed, face forward, eyes slantways watching him.

He is not looking at her, but directly through the lens at me on the other side of the camera. Lips parted, hair cropped close in the attempt to look GQ or Abercrombie - or like someone from some other place I don't shop. His short wool coat is dark gray, clean lines. I'd like to know him better.

She's wearing tan mules with small heels, desperate for sophistication. Loose blond hair betrays her truth. She has her legs crossed under her short handkerchief skirt, exposed knees held together against the fierce wind and the camera's watchful eye.

Her toe points toward him. She hopes for their future. His feet point west, away from her. He knows he'll be gone by the end of the month. Maybe even the end of the week.

I hold the camera out as he crosses the plaza to me. She grabs her cell phone out of her Dooney & Bourke bag, faces east.

"Thanks for taking our picture," he says.

Between the two of us, four hands on his camera.

I let go. "Not a problem. It turned out well."

He inhales to say something. I look down, smile, and turn west.

The wind smacks us as we walk separate paths.

still i drive

2007-01-12T03:31:00.000-05:00

i drive the wide arizona surface streets. it's only 85 degrees today, in new july. a departure from desert summer. through my windshield i see jutting hills - purple and perfect on the eastern horizon. mountains close in and surround this yawning valley of heat and people.

this sky is full slate - brooding gray at 1pm on a wednesday. the time isn't really significant, more a marker in my mind to separate the time between when i felt fine and now, when i don't.

physically, nothing of note is wrong with me. but a blackening sky and kick of wind has pushed me into contemplation. yesterday's demons and today's loss of hope written on a paper top and spun into my manic brain.

twirling.
twirling.
twirling.

i press the accelerator, lean into the curve, and it's 6 months later in virginia's january. it was 75 degrees in the mid-atlantic this past saturday reminding me that arizona followed me to this green state of rain and sprawling suburbs.

the streets here are lined with trees not fully dormant in this unusually warm winter. spring buds threaten to break free of the branches and the baby birds who are born too soon and will die in the snow that will surely come in late march.

i'm angry about a lot of things - more than the surface anger of someone cutting me off or the annoyances of being overworked. it's an anger without regard to consequences - a hopeless one born of being ordinary with the want of something more. it is nearing despair.

still, i drive these roads through sunlight, rain, and pinkish dusk. in my car, and heart, i am solitary - looking for a twist of road, an adventure to find what I've lost.

Of Shells and Angel Wings

2007-01-08T03:30:00.000-05:00

New Year's Eve and I'm standing on the beach with my toes in the cold, frothing surf promising things that can't be promised - shouldn't be thought of even since they are just future failures waiting to happen.

I found angel wing shells earlier today - blue and purpley smooth on the inside encased in a rough black exterior. The two sides fold in on eachother joined by a thin supple spine. When opened, each side looks like two halves of a chipped and barnacled heart.

I laugh. "A metaphor for me?"

The shelled heart appears as one entity - weathered but resilient. I pocket it and continue to comb through the collapsing tide for jewels and hermit crabs. Later, after we leave the humid beach and the shells dry, I see the tumbled halves are waiting to snap free from one another. Each are plain without the other. I think of this as the darkened sky lights up with the red pops and silver snaps of fireworks shot haphazardly by people on the pier. One misses his aim and the beach erupts in green glitter stars.

Should I notice that my spirit feels as thin and fragile as stray seaweed, my soul bruised and half broken like the coral washing up at my feet? Should I dive into this hopeless fear - of being lost, of being forever unhappy - and experience yet another journey toward renewal and rebuilding?

The tide makes me feel small. I want to be unruly, to gain control of the moment, be wild, be free again. Instead, I drink too much and throw up for the entirety of the first day of this brand new year. As I bend over the bowl, I catch a glimpse of my face in the water and wonder when I became so ordinary.

2006 sucked

2006-12-20T10:50:00.000-05:00

My wish for you for 2007

Gut-wrenching laughter.
Spaces in between chaos.
Happy thoughts when you need them most.
Mimosas with brunch.
A light traffic day when you're running late.
Flat abs.
No flat tires.
Help when you need it.
A surprise.
Glitter lamps, bubbles, & slinky's to play with.
An epiphany - at least one.
Jeans that fit.
Inspiration.
A new connection - or a restored one.
Travel.
Meaningful encounters.
A refreshing swim.
Patience.
A visit from a friend.
A kind word from a stranger.
Something that makes you feel amazing.
A new outlook.
Peace.
Time.
Love.

May your yuletide and new year be filled with the things you need to be happy.

But that's not where your bonus is coming from...

2006-12-08T09:37:00.000-05:00

Overheard at a Capital One Holiday Party

Associate 1: What's in your wallet?
Associate 2: American Express.

where do i sign up?

2006-12-07T10:07:00.000-05:00

apparently, here.

how very fitting for winter solstice.

(you may not want to click this at work. instead, click the news link here.)

happy sad happy sad happy happy sad sad

2006-11-28T10:50:00.000-05:00

jump on the rollercoaster with me folks!

we just sold our house.

i'm happy.

money. we can finally start looking for a house here. we got a great offer. we can move forward.

i'm sad.

such a beautiful place. secrets stashed in the corners. buried under spackle and paint over the living room window is the scar from the plate i hurled. sweet things happened there. it would have been good for our future children. blood, sweat, and parts chipped off toes went into landscaping the backyard. the library was my favorite room - unless i was in the shower in the bathroom under the skylight. we never had a lemon from our own tree.

we'll never have a house that pretty and functional again.

ride over.

the beauty of being together

2006-11-26T22:39:00.000-05:00

inside jokes. holding hands in the cold weather. built in date for those annoying office shindigs. wonderful dinners waiting at home. lots of laughter. help when i can't fix something myself. working with someone, not against. guaranteed booty from a trusted source. another income. two people with different ideas and goals struggling to mesh just because of love. eskimo kissing. spontaneous kitchen dancing. conserve water - shower with a friend. voicemails containing our song. you got my back, i got yours. you rub my back, i rub yours. someone to try my new recipe concoctions. middle of the day email conversations discussing how to escape work. combined daydreaming. warm toes. sharp political debates. car games like 20 questions. sharing perfect secrets. sharing not-so-perfect secrets. harmonizing partner. different circle of friends. extended circle of family. kissing. kissing. kissing. whispering fears makes them seem less real. mistletoe. splash wars in the pool. pinky swears. travel partner. no more agonizing over future dates. someone else to help carry the luggage. extra shaving cream always available. forever broadening horizons. staying up all night and watching the sunrise. giggling with someone. foot rubs. heated discussions. christmas presents that don't make any sense to anyone else, but mean more than the most expensive thing in the world. a more complete book collection. the little, every day things. making up "would you rather" scenarios on the road at 3am. combined nervousness when taking pregnancy tests. taking pictures of us together. telling bedtime stories. future kids. flowers. knowing that it's ok to not figure eachother out. love letters. pointing out the shooting stars that the other would have missed. making out in the desert. lunch dates. sharing the harry potter obsession. spring thaw. touching fingers, ET style. the first i love you. every i love you after that. smiles across a crowded room. always finding a rhythm together eventually - even when creating a new beat. walking through security checkpoint and landing in a hug.

you?

thankful for

2006-11-24T10:16:00.000-05:00

santa fe with my husband
roxy/remi phrases like devilicious, moofuckingmoo, & "pulling a memphis"
lavender
cuarenta y tres con leche
new jobs, new opportunities
lemon trees
european vacations
staple removers
parades
mimosas
elvis
the underappreciated, underutilized sharpie marker
the underappreciated, underutilized dirty martini
road trips across the country
games of "would you rather..."
poker
pumpkin ice cream pie
the fact i can still feel a little hope in the face of this shitty year
spending thanksgiving with my family

just like the cheney's, we're going on a road trip.

2006-11-17T09:51:00.000-05:00

only we are moving, not hitting all 50 states, and larry king will not invite us onto his show to talk about it.

santa fe, somewhere oklahoma, knoxville, northern virginia. we'll be driving the I-40 line.

our internet will be cut off today at some point, so perhaps after we arrive in VA on turkey day i'll write something. that is unless i fall into a tryptophan coma.

bye phoenix! we'll miss you.

written almost 3 years ago, for a time long over

2006-11-16T03:32:00.000-05:00

at the horizon,
shades of us
happening.
you, slow tuesday jazz
me, a warm red raincoat.

sometimes I see our other selves
in another world
and we're playing,
drawing out rhetoric in thin long lines
climbing boulders and
breaking glass
to make ourselves obvious.

sometimes we are just
sprawled,
legs tangled,
on soft red furniture
in our loft apartment
with twenty foot windows
and fifty foot dreams.

i watch our shadows.

wondering where
we'd be now
makes me hate
where i am.

2006-11-15T07:46:00.000-05:00

The first time I remember tasting New York tap water was when I was staying at my Aunt's gorgeous house upstate. Noticing the consistency of the liquid in my cup I told her that I didn't want milk. She looked at me, laughed, and told me to drink my water.

A few years after that, she came to Phoenix. She was thinner, divorced and had a kick ass leather jacket. I idolized her. She was this cool force - successful, talented, funny. She was an electric breeze that came into my life.

Since we didn't live in the same state, we didn't see each other much. But I thought about her. Bragged that I had a cool aunt to my friends. Heard stories from my parents about what she was up to, where she was living.

The times we did share were in Phoenix, in New York. Shopping trips in Manhattan. Me asking her questions in the guest room in Phoenix. Standing outside Mamma's house in the Bronx. Now these times are in Virginia, sitting around the table at holidays hearing the banter between she and my dad about thier shared childhood as they retold, relived their memories on E. 191st Street.

I don't really idolize her anymore - idolotry to me sounds removed, cold. What I do have for her is warm admiration. I cherish our talks, know that we'll have more giggling moments, more serious conversations, more mimosas.

Happy birthday, Aunt Doretta. Love you.

things i love about fall #1

2006-11-15T01:51:00.000-05:00

songs that represent autumn/fall to me

kiss - london after midnight
millenium - killing joke
killing moon - echo & the bunnymen
karma - delerium
now i fall - wolfsheim
another world - beborn beton
christian woman - type o-
fall with your knife - peter murphy
cry little sister - from the lost boys soundtrack
how soon is now - the smiths

anything type o negative, nin, dead can dance, tori amos

forget milk. got goth?

Almost

2006-11-10T22:02:00.000-05:00

"Hi baby, what's up?"
"Not much, you?"
"Driving home."
"Do you want the bad news? Or do you want to wait?"
Thinking it had something to do with the fact that my husband hadn't finished packing for the move, I breathed out slowly. "Ok, give me the bad news."
"Nelson was killed in Iraq."
"What?"
"Nelson."
"What? No."
He's silent on the other end of the phone.
"No! That's not possible."
"He was killed in battle."
"NO! It's not possible."

It couldn't be true. Not Nelson. Not sweet, smiling Nelson. So polite. So damn smart. An incredible young man. My former student - one of the ones who helped me remember on a daily basis why I loved teaching high school.

I didn't believe it. The tears that came weren't real because it couldn't be happening.

I hung up with my husband. I called Bettina.

"I have some terrible news."

My voice broke. Her disbelief washed over us like the second tidal wave in a suddenly stormy sea.

We know that too many of our students meet unfortunate ends. Death shouldn't steal their hopes, our hopes for them. But it does. And now one of the finest young men I have ever met has been killed?

Bettina and I try to reconcile the news with reality - what should be versus what is. For 20 minutes, we tumble through stories, recount our daily lives, try to cling to scraps of hope.

"Kevin's calling me on the other line. Maybe he knows more. I'll call you back."

I pick up the line.

"It was a mistake. He's ok. I don't know the full story yet, only that he's coming home. He wasn't killed."

The tears that come from relief feel nothing like the hopeless ones of only moments ago. Reality turns real again. In that split second, I can almost understand what a second chance truly feels like. I can almost understand what a mother must feel when finding out her own is still breathing, even if slightly scarred. I can almost understand why belief in a god is necessary.

Almost. Thank God.

the beauty of being alone

2006-11-10T01:16:00.000-05:00

listening to the same song over and over again without someone telling me to turn it off. loud, obnoxious karaoke in the middle of the night. finding a single ticket to the theatre when all the seats together are sold out. painting toenails on the couch while watching "Real Sex" and smoking a cigarette. night breeze through the window, sprawled on the bed, only frogs and me breathing. conversations with the dog, no interruption. the peace of only me. obsess. obsess. obsess. sleeping with the blinds open and waking up to sunshine. stretching across the whole bed. the spaces in between. cheese and crackers for dinner; every night. long hot showers. putting on that black dress and looking incredible for me. the delicious wait for the next first kiss. rabidly reading, without pause. rabidly daydreaming, without pause. knowing that everything before me is possible. shameless flirting. the entire closet filled with shoes, purses, and as many damn scarves as i want. strength. girl trips. whenever, wherever. not having to explain that gambling loss. calling my ex and thinking about slipping into old, bad habits. meeting my ex and slipping into old, bad habits. dumping him the next day and moving on. deciding to make cookies, eating half the batter while mixing and throwing out the rest without even turning the oven on. another tattoo without judgment, without telling anyone. painting poetry all over my walls. watching "practical magic" over and over. reaching the summit and feeling accomplishment. cleaning the house and knowing no one is coming home to mess it up. endless buffy marathons. no planning, just living. experiencing the train station, eyes closed, feeling the breeze from the train stir the cool, humid air. walking around naked. picking out my own jewelry and flowers. spontaneous disappearing. listening to garrison keillor every sunday morning. embracing more challenges - keeping my edge. afternoons spent with pictures. amassing an impressive collection of "toys." change. write without accountability. speak without accountability. cute containers of soup for one. not shaving my legs. not shaving there either. spending the holidays with the people i want to see. not having to explain why i unloaded an entire can of raid on a cricket. knowing new sex will happen. not sharing the last bag of popcorn. whispers to the moon are secret, pure. it's ok to be eccentric, odd, "out-there," weird, depressed, mad, drunk. red painted walls. learning, exploring, becoming a better me. simplified tax returns. contemplation. feeling complete.

you?

Say it with me people

2006-11-08T13:30:00.000-05:00

"Regime change."

Doesn't it sound pretty?

Unfortunately, when I woke up this morning I knew GB is still president

2006-11-08T08:37:00.000-05:00

But, the good news is that I am so proud of Arizona. According to the AP "...Arizona became the first state to defeat an amendment to ban gay marriage."

While I can't agree with everything the voters have done in my state (cough whatthefuckareyouthinkingjonkyl cough), I am excited and happy that in Arizona the constitution doesn't define commitment and love based on gender.

In other news, I'd like to shout out a big "goodbye motherfucker" to Rick Santorum. Perhaps with your new time off, education will open your mind a bit?

Celebrate with Mr. Hanky

2006-11-06T14:11:00.000-05:00

My company is currently celebrating a big anniversary. To commemorate the founders - and to celebrate the milestone - our campus is holding fun activities all week to get us in the spirit.

Today, we are using Play-doh to be creative and build a sculpture of our choice and enter it into a campus-wide competition.

When I found out about this, I was actually excited! Play-doh? Oh yeah, baby.

This morning, I received my tub of goo. It smells delicious - just like childhood. The problem? Mine is brown.

Somehow, I don't think Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo is an acceptable entry for today's contest.

previous music

2006-11-05T14:09:00.000-05:00

Brandon Elliot Smith (a former student of mine) - You Lied

Sarah G - Hot Pink Champagne Cotton Candy Makeover

Beat Gorilla feat. Lisa DeBenedictis - Brilliant Daze

Gillian Welch - Soul Journey

dye it black

2006-10-31T08:52:00.000-05:00

"when i called her evil
she just laughed
and cast her spell on me
boo-bitch-craft"

happy halloween

oh, and my nanowrimo 2006 blog is up.

Buy Our House - PLEASE!

2006-10-17T10:09:00.000-04:00

C'mon. You know you want to move to Surprise.

Here are some pictures!

Good area. I love our house.

Let me know if you're interested!

tonight, i'm in phoenix...

2006-10-13T01:16:00.000-04:00

and damn it's good to be home.

even if this will only be home for another month.

the nanowrimo challenge

2006-10-11T02:40:00.000-04:00

so, last year i did nanowrimo. this is what i wrote.

and this year i'm taking the challenge again.

only this year i'm going to be moving cross country for one whole week in november so i will cut myself some slack if i don't reach my 50,000 word goal.

last year i was just lazy (and too perfectionistic).

i'm a writer - i can make up words like perfectionistic.

get off my back.

Boxes of questions

2006-10-10T02:48:00.000-04:00

Why are we collectors?

Is it an attempt to feel more connected, more permanent in this world? Do things make us more significant? Define us?

Why do I have a frisbee from the USS Intrepid that I visited at the age of 11 and a program from the Barnum & Bailey Circus from when I was 6? I remember the smell of the Hudson, the taste of cotton candy. Do I need the things from these places to connect?

I still have the Sports Illustrated magazine outlining the events and US hopefuls for the 1984 Olympics - back when Summer and Winter were held in the same year. Is it so I can remember that my girl scout troop came over to my house to watch the opening ceremonies and my mom made Sloppy Joe's for all of us? Am I trying to recapture the connection I felt with the world at the precise moment the torch was lit?

I've lived without these things in boxes for years. Why should I hold on to them? So I can continue to own stuff?

Really, it's just owning me.

Little Life Lesson #1

2006-10-06T15:08:00.000-04:00

Never start a brand new job on a Monday.

It may be a bitch for payroll, but it's not about them.

It's about the fact that by Day 3 you'll be gagging on the new names you have to pronounce, cursing the 2 story blisters popping up like new condo complexes on each of your heels (caused largely because you get lost every damn time you go pee), and I guaran-fuckin'-tee you that you'll have a strong desire to suck down 12 martinis while belting out "More Than This" in some backwoods dive bar named Lou's where the "L" is burned out on the neon sign but people show up for cheap beer, cheap women and cheap cigarettes from the prehistoric pull-knob machine in back by the pay phone.

And really, if that is Day 3, wouldn't you rather start your new job on a Wednesday so that Friday night you can pass out under a bar stool in a pool of your own drool?

change

2006-09-25T22:14:00.000-04:00

i keep telling myself that it's only weird when things stay the same.

really, change is the rule, not the exception.

so why does it feel like someone spun me around after drinking too much champagne on new years and then sent me in the opposite direction of home?

why is change, something that happens every day, sending me into loops and twirls?

and why won't my new life feel real until i'm there, in the middle of a new street on a new day and i realize that everything that was real the week before is now my past and isn't part of my day to day life anymore?

i'll write about it - letters to myself in long scribbles on clean pages of my journal - and i'll have all these feelings of loss for my old life - the one in arizona - and excitement for my new life in washington dc.

and the scariest part will come when the change is no longer a change, but normal.

and usually, that's the point when i screw my eyes shut, jump over a cliff into a new horizon, and wait to see where i land.

unrelated

2006-09-20T12:39:00.000-04:00

Carbon Leaf's new album Loss Love Hope Repeat has the most awesome-ist bitchin' song - "Learn To Fly".

I must have it.

I also must have Pete Yorn's new CD. Like now. Like I'm going to buy it this week. Like I will feel all-empty-inside-wanting-to-crawl-into-a-corner-in-a-fetal-position-and-I-may-just-die-before-I-get-it-like-for-real-die-not-just-saying-that-because-I'm-all-melodramatic-ok-so-I-am-melodramatic-but-you-people-know-I-can-get-that-way-because-I'm-neurotic-and-don't-judge-me-'cause-you-want-shit-too-so-let-me-jones-for-Carbon-Leaf-and-Pete-Yorn-and-just-shut-up until I get it.

And so what if I will also probably by G.Love's Lemonade. If you heard "Hot Cookin'" you'd buy it too.

Just saying.

Everything must go!

2006-09-20T04:34:00.000-04:00

It's official. We are moving to Washington DC. Well, at least northern Virginia.

We're packing the boxes and donating half the house contents. We definitely have too much crap.

And, for the first time I can remember in my life I can fit all my clothes into one closet.

But don't even think that I'm getting rid of all my shoes and purses.

Savages.

Argh me maties - and a happy birthday!

2006-09-19T23:08:00.000-04:00

Today is National Talk Like A Pirate Day. But, even more importantly, it's Jodi's birthday.

Jodi and I have been friends for over 15 years. We've fought like crazy. We've been the best of friends. We've hated each other. We've done nutty things together and laughed over everything and nothing. There have been times we haven't been on speaking terms (most recently due to me). But there is not one day that I don't thank my lucky stars to have a true friend in someone as fabulous as she. She is one of the wittiest people I've ever met in my life. And I couldn't think of anyone better to share her special day with something as awesome as National Talk Like A Pirate Day! YEA!

And for that, I say "Avast me hearties! Raise your grog and raid the bung hole for celebration victuals! It's Wench Jodi's birthday! Toast the beauty and wish her Ahoy and a happy day!"

Week in Exclusive Detox Resort!

2006-09-09T19:18:00.000-04:00

Your host Roxy would like to let you know that she is currently not posting to her blog due to her extended detoxification and "All About Roxy" stay at an exclusive, trendy resort with sweeping mountain views, and a gorgeous private suite. She's very busy with her numerous facials, massages, and occasional drug binges.

Ok...

Actually...

Replace "detoxification" with "no food or liquid, just IV's"
Replace "All About Roxy" with "doctors and nurses poking at Roxy"
Replace "exclusive, trendy resort" with "hospital"
Replace "gorgeous private suite" with "not bad private hospital room"
Replace "numerous facials" with "numerous tests"
Replace "massages" with "needle pricks"
Replace "occasional drug binges" with "morphine drip"

The morphine drip is the best part...hopefully I'll be out before another week passes.

naked wrestling with ranch beans and vibrators

2006-08-30T01:13:00.000-04:00

To prep for my flight on Thursday, I've shaved all hair from my body, plucked the strays and have been doing 1000 ab-crunches a day just in case the FAA makes me strip naked to pass through the metal detector. Oh, and since I recently lost 25 pounds, I'm not too worried.

I've packed all liquid in double ziploc bags in my suitcase and thrown out the citrus fertilizer I was going to bring to my mom for her mini-lemon tree. Not quite sure how I'm going to explain the Macayo's Enchilada Sauce and the Ranch Beans that I've carefully packed between skivvies and my interview suit. Hopefully they won't mistake the Rabbit Pearl as a detonator. I'm carrying my ID and a boarding pass to get on the flight. Should I even bother to wear shoes?

By the way, while we are consumed with this mock terror, there are more terrible things happening in the world. If we only focus on the shiny objects in the media, perhaps we can forget the information below:

Thought of the day:
We are spending $8 billion a month in Iraq. That's $2 billion each week, $267 million each day, or $11 million each hour. For what we spend in three weeks, we could make needed improvements in order to properly secure our public transportation systems. For what we spend in five days, we could put radiation detectors in all of our ports. And for two days in Iraq, we could screen all air cargo."

The Devil is in the Details

2006-08-16T04:01:00.000-04:00

Recently, the Phoenix Business Journal used this title in an article about ASU moving into their new downtown space. I think it is more apropos to use it to address some of the details of our current administration and what I’ve been hearing in the news over the past week.

One thing every journalist knows is details make for a better story. The story of a meth-lab bust in the West Valley is always more interesting when details are given about affected children, the quiet neighborhood streets, the seemingly normal drug dealers. Details make us empathize and when pieced together, show us the big picture.

If this is the case, however, why is it that our government has only been focusing on the details of "terror" instead of society's big picture? The war in Iraq has diverted attention from protecting America from terrorism. This past week 9/11 commissioners said Iraq is distracting from security at home.

This past week, we've learned more about a large-scale terrorist plot to attack the United States. And what is the response from our administration? Political attacks against Democrats - against Americans in our own country.

A prime example is Dick Cheney's response to Ned Lamont's victory in Connecticut. To say that Connecticut voters were supporting Al Qaeda by voting for Lamont is something I expect a terrorist to say - not the Vice President of the United States. Since when is voting for someone who believes differently an act of terrorism?

In the same speech that President Bush said, "Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists" he also said we have "...our freedom of religion, our freedom of speech, our freedom to vote and assemble and disagree with each other."

And so it goes. We gather around exploited details and blanket statements so often that we lose sight of the big picture.

Five years after 9/11, the Bush administration has failed to keep us safe. The Republican Congress hasn't followed through on the recommendations of the 9/11 Commission. The war in Iraq has inflamed the whole Middle East and is helping Al Qaeda attract new recruits. Osama bin Laden is still on the loose.

The big picture shows us that we are not safe - that we probably never will be again. But we must stop reacting to the little details and focus on the big picture. Given our current administration over the past few years, I think the big picture should involve less blaming of Democrats and more working together toward the common goal of security and freedom.

We should all take responsibility for finding out all the information we can - to process the details as part of the big picture. To not resort to partisanship and political jabs. To assess people on track record and a strong vision for the future.

That is how I intend to make my decisions when I vote this fall. By looking at the details and how they influence our society as a whole. Not by listening to the blatant politicized terror threats I've been hearing throughout the past week.

Does that make me a terrorist too?

fear, terror, evil-doers, freedom, blah, blah, blah, and other such words in our great Wag The Dog marketing campaign

2006-08-15T09:51:00.000-04:00

finally, someone points out that our obsession with the little things takes away focus from the big things. which, in my opinion, is what is wrong with most people today. if we weren't blowing the small stuff out of proportion, the big picture could be addressed.

read this great article.

a snippet:

"US NOW: BE AFRAID!! Oh God, the Brown Bad people could strike any moment! They could strike ... NOW!! AHHHH. Okay, how about .. NOW!! AAGAGAHAHAHHAG! Quick, do whatever we tell you, and believe whatever we tell you, or YOU WILL BE KILLED BY BROWN PEOPLE!! PUT DOWN THAT SIPPY CUP!!"

For them, it's us

2006-08-14T16:04:00.000-04:00

On my way to work this morning, NPR was covering the UN cease-fire plan and the withdrawal of Israeli troops from south Lebanon. I started thinking about Hezbollah.

How are these people acceptable in society? I thought to myself. I felt myself getting angry, turning nationalist. Why are they allowed to do this? Why doesn't someone do something?

And the voices grew louder in my head.

Someone should round them up and kill them.

This thought - this toxic thought - swirled in my brain drowning the soft, internal voice that asked why should any kind of killing be sanctioned? and failed to remind me that I don't believe in killing or war as an answer to a problem.

And I thought of the innocents that are affected by this fighting until everything in me was screaming KILL THE BAD MEN!

And I paused as the realization washed over me...

This is what the innocent Iraqis think about the American soldiers who are abusing their positions. This is what the Muslims in this nation are experiencing when other Americans are attacking them for their beliefs.

This is how Americans are seen throughout the world.

And, sadly, with good reason.

the first postcard is up

2006-08-12T13:17:00.000-04:00

here

go here if you don't know what i'm talking about.

Who's the F-in Fascist?

2006-08-11T20:57:00.000-04:00

From this article on the BBC: "US President George W Bush said the alleged plot was a 'stark reminder that this nation is at war with Islamic fascists who will use any means to destroy those of us who love freedom'."

The only part of that quote that doesn't apply to GW is the word "Islamic."

Blogger Roxy Clafoutie said that GW’s quote is a “stark reminder that this nation is governed by a group of mostly white male fascists who will use any means necessary to destroy those who elected them into office and any semblance of freedom left in this country.”

What is the word for lying to the public, allowing 9/11, passing the Patriot Act, saying that those who believe in freedom are "siding with terrorists" when we really only want to be free and not in a war over OIL, not about terrorism at all?

Fascism:
A system of government marked by centralization of authority under a dictator (take power away), stringent socioeconomic controls (oil? gas? travel? investments overseas? privacy? wiretapping?) , suppression of the opposition (people who opposed the Patriot Act are "terrorists") through terror (fear, fear, fear) and censorship (if you think you really know what is happening in our government and what really happened on 9/11, you don't know what has been censored), and typically a policy of belligerent nationalism ("you're either with us, or you're with the terrorists")and racism (must I find examples?).

Read the definition people and tell me you don’t see it.

really, slumbering is the last thing i think about

2006-08-05T02:08:00.000-04:00

When I think slumber party, sleep never enters into my mind. I hear music, see big bowls of puffed popcorn and smell chocolate chip cookies baking. And since my teen years (and maybe a bit before) I think boys and booze.

Slumber parties are essential to the girl growing up experience. My 9th birthday - it must have been because it was 1984 - was my first official slumber party. We swam, watched MTV, and launched ourselves off my parent's coffee table while listening to Van Halen's "Jump" over and over again.

At my 13th we watched scary movies, played "light as a feather, stiff as a board" and "bloody mary," and fried the ends of cheetos with the fire flickering from the candles we lit (it doesn't improve the taste). The following year - my freshman year of high school - a group of neighborhood boys found out about the party and spied on us and launched stink bombs to get us to run out of the house in our PJ's. Instead - they got my mom. A subsequent slumber party culminated in making burnt chocolate cinnamon ice cream (don't ask how we burned it) on the kitchen floor (with my little brother staying up with us) and laughing so hard my mom came flying out of her bedroom and yelled at us to be quiet.

Tomorrow night, we are having a slumber party. Sixteen Candles, Brat Pack movies, beer, boys, making postcards, giggling, karaoke, games, and maybe even some tarot cards or seances. Who knows?

Women will be girls. And I know someone is going to get her bra frozen.

Ginger goes to Mexico

2006-08-04T00:11:00.000-04:00

And we think we should send her some postcards...

don't even think about telling me what constitutes family...

2006-08-01T20:56:00.000-04:00

As you may know, the so-called "Protect Marriage Amendment", has been designated with the proposition number 107. Arizona Together and Planned Parenthood have joined forced to stop this amendment.

This proposition is not only a crass attempt to influence this election to hurt progressive causes, but it will also hurt families who depend on benefits from their employers.

We are building up our force to fight back, and we need your help.

Planned Parenthood is committed to helping Arizona Together build up a strong volunteer core. We will work to increase the dedicated volunteers from 2,000 to 5,000 by the day the first ballot is cast! We will identify who wants to help, in what ways, and when. Come join your friends and family as we keep building to defeat this initiative.

The FIRST Wednesday of every month is PLANNED PARENTHOOD VOLUNTEER NIGHT for the Arizona Together campaign.

The campaign will make calls from 6:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. at 319 E. McDowell Road every night with times available for daytime volunteering. Planned Parenthood supporters are encouraged to join us the FIRST Wednesday, but will be welcome ANYTIME! Training for new callers will be provided.

RSVP for Planned Parenthood Volunteer Night Here!

There will be food, fun and victory at the polls!

finger crossin' and coast hoppin'

2006-07-27T15:13:00.001-04:00

Just had a preliminary phone interview for an awesome opportunity with my company in Virginia!

Next step is a flyout to the campus for an official interview.

I think I can I think I can I think I can...

Screw that.

I KNOW I will.

(oh, and if I'm using you for a reference, please don't say anything truthful about me. make up all the good shit that you can...)